Chores

Day 17: Can’t get over this mansion. Its huge and ornate, easily the best accommodations I’ve ever had in my life. But…it’s too much. I’m used to the easily arranged and moveable tents my tribe lived in or the convenient inns along the roads. I chose one of the smaller rooms for myself, but even that is quite large. I’ve thought about adding in a small alchemy lab or a work bench or something to fill the space in here.

I got caught up with everyone else at breakfast (the pantry was just as huge as you’d expect in such a house, fully stocked and everything. I didn’t mind that so much) where they filled me in on their antics. More work with Marius and their expected silliness handling that. Business as usual, I suppose. Zedyethe looked like she didn’t get a wink of sleep, but she struggled on to be awake with everyone else. I worry about her, but she left my business alone and it was clear she wanted her own business ignored as well. Fair is fair.

I slipped away shortly after, regretting that I wouldn’t be joining them yet again. But I had to get Azadon figured out. What was this destiny it had tied with me? Why did it choose me? What if its evil? These thoughts did nothing to comfort me as I made my way to the old fort I met Andraste in.

The building was surrounded by people, each person busy cleaning and repairing different parts of the fort. I noticed they were all of different races, but primarily dwarves humans, elves, and a scattering of other random species. Not one was a dragonborn. Occasionally I would see them bring a stretcher with a fallen legionnaire out of the fort, which they quickly set about stripping of weapons, armor and anything else of value. Definitely not a sign of respect for the dead. This must have been the resistance Andraste said would be meeting her.

All of a sudden, a booming voice came from behind me. “HEY BRIGHT-EYES!” Andraste’s familiar shout proclaimed, a hefty hand smacking hard against my back “Glad you showed up.”

I turned confused, “What’s going on? Why clear out the fort?”

“OUR fort, now.” The dwarf magus said, nudging and winking at me “Thanks again to you and that little fella for helpin out the other night.”

I wanted to tell her she pretty much won that battle single handedly, but the wind was nearly knocked out of me as Andraste thrust a broom into my gut. “Here, start sweepin.  The plan is to get settled in by tomorrow, but this place needs to look ship shape before we can do that.” I started to ask why I needed to be doing this when she interrupted me again “When you’re done, go see that carpenter with the salt and pepper beard. Names Odver, he’s getting up in age so he could use some young muscle hauling wood. I nominate you, Bright-Eyes. Have at it!”

She started walking away, giving orders to a few other people. “Wait a minute!” I yelled, still clutching the broom for some reason, “I thought you said you’d teach me about….my sword.” I said, not wanting to say too much about Azadon in front of strangers.

Andraste turned back to me, annoyed and on the edge of pissed. “This comes first. I gave you an assignment, do it or leave.” She went back to giving orders and helping wherever she could.

This wasn’t any of my business and a waste of my time, I might as well have gone with the others for Marius’ assignments. But I was already here, and I would need to gain Andraste”s favor if I was going to learn anything from her. So I set about sweeping, like a maid….

It was boring work, sweeping every room of this huge four story building with another two levels below it. In one exceptionally large room (I assumed was either a meeting room or a small dining hall) I found something shimmering in the dust. I picked it up, wiping it clean. It was a golden amulet, ancient and dirty but still beautiful and held a faint aura of magic. From the shape it looked like a Scarab of Protection, an incredibly high level item. But the jade scarab was missing, leaving only the circular space for the carved gem to fit in and not even half of the magical power it should possess. I tried channeling my own power into it, and its aura increased considerably, lightly reflecting with warding magic. I decided this was a great find and slid it into my pocket. A reward for all this needless work.

Odver was an old dwarf carpenter with severe arthritis. He could barely lift his saw, so when Andraste instructed me to “help” him, she really meant I would be doing all of his work. He gave me brief rundowns on how to cut and smooth the wood into the right shapes, politely correcting me when I made mistakes. Not many dwarves are so mild mannered, in my experience with them. As tiring as it was, I’m glad I met old Odver. He taught me a lot, more than Andraste had promised to.

All the way from early morning to just after sunset, they worked me to the bone fixing up this old fort. The job was done, all they would have to do the next day was move in supplies. We all sat around a campfire where they passed around bowls of soup for everyone. I’d never been so hungry in my life, and many of the others seemed to share this feeling. Andraste found me at last and sat down beside me.

“Good work today, kiddo.” She said, almost respectful “Come back in a couple days and we’ll continue your lessons.”

That made my eyes snap wide awake and my temper flare “Lessons?!” I said, spitting a few bits of diced carrots from my mouth “You forced me to work my ass off on this damn fort all day. How does that help me understand anything about the power of my Black Blade?”

“I never forced you. You chose to.” She looked into the bonfire, a serious expression on her face “That was lesson 1, willing to voluntarily help even when there was no gain in it for you. Lesson 2 was committing to bothersome or downright hard work. No going soft or slacking off. Lesson 3 was working alongside someone who could not directly help you, but you needed to cooperate with anyway. Those are the first three things you need to learn in order to establish a relationship with your Black Blade.”

I thought it over, and realized she was right. I had been thinking of Azadon as a tool and that there was some kind of manual on how to properly use it. But as Bartleby revealed in the tavern, the sword has a soul. It’s alive. I needed to start treating it like so. “I’m sorry,” I said solemnly, piecing together how obvious the connections were, “You’re right. I learned a lot today….thank you.”

She gave a wide grin and patted me on the back “You’re a smart guy, you grasp this stuff a lot faster than most do. That makes for a perfect student. Go home, get some rest. I’ll see ya back here in a few days, maybe teach ya some cool tricks.”

I thanked her and everyone there for having me and made the trek back into Fastigium. Back to my friends and my new home. Everyone was asleep, except for Dye. I decided I didn’t care about secrets anymore. I told her everything about Azadon. Everything, from how I mysteriously obtained it in the hydra chamber to today at the fort. She listened intently the whole time, only interrupting for a few questions. At the end she wondered why I felt the need to hide all that, and I felt stupid myself for doing so. I showed her the blade, and for once its yellow eye opened upon my command. She seemed fascinated by it, much like Bartleby had been.

She told me about her day as well, apparently they had quite a few close calls in battle but prevailed in the end, finding an assortment of magical weapon and armor to boot. They saved a suit of slick leather armor for me, which I love now. I felt bad not having anything to give her. Then I remembered that amulet I found earlier. I had planned to use it myself, but maybe it would be better with Dye, possibly even with whatever was keeping her up at night.

I pulled it out by the gold chain, polished while I was taking a break by the big bonfire. Her eyes gleamed at the sight of it and it took some effort not to blurt out how beautiful she was. That would have been awkward. I told her about its power and she was even more delighted to see it light up with the reaction of her magic. She gave me a big hug and thanked me.

We went to bed soon after. I didn’t hear Zedyethe toss and turn in her room, so maybe my little present did help.

Midnight Massacre

Day 18: It took us a few days, but Bartleby and I pinpointed where Andraste was being held; a tiny Legion camp some few miles west of Fastigium. We had no way of knowing the exact layout of the camp, nor how many guards we’d be expecting. So we decided to wing it. Wouldn’t be the first time, gods help us it not be our last.

We snuck in at night, both of our eyes slightly glinting with darkvision. Turns out the “camp” was an old abandoned fort taken over by the Legion, their red flags billowing from the decrepit tower. From the forest we could see two Legion sentries posted at the front gate, their scales casting reflections of moonlight. They looked tough, and I really didn’t want to mess with them. 

Bartleby had other ideas. He kept his hood well over his face and scurried out of cover. I stayed back, silent, waiting to jump in if needed. The gnome started crying, remarkably similar to a human child. The guards were on edge at first, but lowered their weapons at the sounds of a child. Bartleby paused before them, hiding his face in his hands and continued to cry just like a child. One of the guards leaned down and tried to calm him, extending a hand to pat him on the back. Bartleby took the opportunity and grabbed the dragonborn’s head in one hand. With the other, he flourished a coat pistol from beneath his robes to shoot him point blank between the eyes, somehow only making a slight puff of noise. That was my cue, running forward and charging magical lightning into Azadon. The magic was noticeably stronger in the Black Blade, making my hands throb just trying to hold it. I caught the second guard by surprise and sliced through his neck, beheading him in a diagonal line.

So we had two headless dragonborn, eliminated quickly and quietly. A good start. We grabbed what little gold they had and tossed the bodies behind the bushes. We slowly entered the old fort, dim torches partially lighting the way. It wouldn’t be quite so easy to sneak past here.

I looked to my gnome friend and whispered “Do you have any ideas?”

Bartleby smiled “I do.” He pulled a tiny flask from his satchel and consumed the contents in a quick gulp. Almost immediately, his skin started turning greenish, his eyes bulged, and his fingertips grew long and bulbous at the end. He tested his fingers against the wall and stuck to it. He proceeded to climb the vertical wall with sticky fingers and bare feet. Even more astounding, his skin changed to match the color of the walls. He moved deeper into the hall and I lost track of where he was. I could barely hear him whisper back “Good luck.”

Well that wasn’t exactly teamwork…but I moved on, sticking to the shadows as best as I could. The first room that I came to was full of dragonborn, all drinking and enjoying themselves. I snuck past undetected and crept further down the tunnel.

I peered into the next room, seeing another dragonborn guard, asleep at a table. There was a flash of movement and I saw Bartleby’s camouflaged hand take a ring of keys from the lazy guard. I could scarcely see him crawling towards a tunnel downward.

We found a room full of cages, with the only person besides us being a single prisoner. Bartleby climbed down from the wall and reverted to his normal image. We approached a dwarf woman sleeping in her cell, snoring loudly and completely unaware of our presence.

“Andraste?” I said, keeping my voice down, “We’re here to break you out.”

The dwarf woman woke up with a start, staring back and forth between us both “Who are you?” she asked in a hushed whisper, “What are you doing here?”

“Freeing you. Obviously” Bartleby said in his blunt way, searching through vials in his satchel and sizing up the lock’s durability.

“You fools! You’re ruining everything” she hissed, staring wide eyed at us.

“Here’s the deal,” I started, already tired of her attitude, “We’re looking for information on the Black Blades. I’ve been lead to believe you’re the best person around Fastigium that I could talk to. So freeing you is kind of a necessity. I’m not sure why you have a problem with this.”

‘It doesn’t matter why, just get out of here!” Andraste slammed against the cell door just as Bartleby was pouring an acid over the lock. The flask whipped back through the air and shattered, the acid burning a hole in the concrete floor. Up above we could hear the sleeping guard moving, coming down to our level.

“Hide!’ Bartleby and I whispered to each other, taking cover on either side of the doorway.

Bartleby searched through his bag and found a vial full of thick white liquid. He stuffed the vial into a strange second barrel of his gun and stood ready to fire. The dragonborn walked into the room, oblivious to our presence. He must still be groggy from his wittle nap. He looked around the room, finding only Andraste in her cell, pretending to be asleep. The guard turned back towards the door and that’s when the gnome fired. A burst of white, web-like liquid blasted the dragon’s face, effectively silencing and blinding him at the same time. I drove my knee into his gut and brought him to his knees. Crux already had a rope in his hands and we tied the guard up. The thing I loved most about gnomes is how they think of everything.

We tossed the guard into the corner and turned back to Andraste “Come on! Before more show up.”

The dwarf sat there, defiant. “I had a plan. You ruined it. In the morning, a militia of the resistance was going to attack from outside while I broke out BY MYSELF and tore them apart from the inside. Now I have to deal with you fools.” She tossed over onto her side as if she could just go back to sleep. We stood there quiet for a moment, unsure what to do. “….Damn it! Fine!”  Andraste got up and faced us. “We’ll start the attack early.” With a quick punch, she broke the lock and the cell door flew open. She charged past us, her small but sturdy frame nearly knocking us over. We briefly looked at each other, confused, but followed after.

Andraste had already picked a fight with the dragonborn guards we had avoided earlier. She blasted chain lightning from her hands, electrocuting everything in her path. More guards appeared from upstairs, amazed at the carnage before them. I launched two magic missiles into one guard, knocking him slightly back. Bartleby threw a bomb into the group, blasting them out of formation and crumbling parts of the wall. Still more came from above, and Andraste was in a rage. She looked around at dragonborn coming from all sides.

“Ramdus!” she called out, raising a hand over her head. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of amber colored light. As it subsided, a hefty bastard sword appeared in her hand, the metal black as night. 

Just like Azadon.

Now that she was armed, Andraste became a storm of black metal and magic. From one hand she cast a spell of Contagious Flame, sending ray after ray of fire from one enemy to the next. Her sword flashed with electric sparks, slicing through armor and scales like butter. Bartleby and I tried to keep up, but there was no matching her bloodlust.

In mere moments, the entire tower was cleared of Legion soldiers, in large part by Andraste and her Black Blade. I don’t see how she would have needed help at all. The woman was ruthless, especially with her sword. Now was the time for questions.

“So you have a Black Blade?” I said nervously.

She hefted the bastard sword on to her shoulder and nodded “I see you’ve got one too. And you want my help understanding it.” She yawned and stretched slightly. “Yeah, I can teach ya a few things. But I’m beat. SOMEONE woke me up in the middle of the night.” She started up towards the fort’s living quarters, presumably to find a bed. “Come back here in a couple days. The fort will be under resistance control and I’ll be in a better mood.”

That settled that, I suppose. I thanked Bartleby for all his help and went back to find my current travelling companions. Turns out, we have a mansion now. Must have missed out on that whole business with the lords and they won the mansion and Marius’ favor. I talked with Zedyethe for a bit before bed and we recapped our adventures. My assumption was more or less correct, wish I hadn’t run off when I could have been helping them. I didn’t tell her about Azadon still, just that I was doing work with Bartleby. I feel awful keeping things from her, but it may be necessary at this point. I’ll tell her sometime after Andraste can get me informed first.

Mysteries of Azadon

 (I should note, the following entries are all my own solo adventures from when i was unavailable for full group activity. Besides Zedyethe and some dialogue from her player, all characters and events are from my own writing.)

Day 16: We took a break for the night, hoping to clear out the rest of the dungeon the next day. The construct and samsaren left our party completely. Fine by me, our group was too full as it was.

I wanted to spend the day figuring out this mysterious sword…Azadon. The others were eager to move on and clear the dungeon, but I declined. I told them I had a few other errands, which they believed without question. I kept the sword hidden, not knowing what they would think of the black blade.

Navigating my way out of the dank sewers, I was at a loss where I could find the information I needed. The library wasn’t helpful. It had plenty of books, but none of them held any knowledge on the arcane, except in superstition and children’s tales. I resorted to the taverns, my default method of finding secret information. I had a decent friendship with most of the local bartenders.  Magic weapon smuggling was a big topic in the underground, hopefully I could find someone with ties inside the city. Most of the tavern keepers were at a loss at the mention of magic. Takes a special sort of criminal to get mixed up with magic.

My last hope was in a remote tavern sitting in a dimly lit corner of the city. “The Clever Mule” I believe it was called, complete with a sign showing a donkey with what I assume is meant to be a wizard’s pointed hat on. As luck would have it, the bartender directed me right to a gnome gentleman that had started staying here the past couple days. Word had it he was only looking for work with magic paraphernalia, which suited my needs just fine. From my angle, all I could see was the tiny man’s cloak over his head, a tall mug of mead in one hand and a quill hastily scratching out a madman’s writing in the other hand. As I drew closer, something clicked. I recognized that writing, that stitched together pocket book, even that dusty brown cloak. I casually pulled up a chair next to the gnome in his dark little corner, facing away from the rest of the world. The gnome stopped his rapid writing and slowly turned in my direction, showing his dirt brown-gray skin. I knew immediately my hunch was right.

“Bartleby Crux!” I proclaimed into his face, startling the couple at the next table, but hardly even phasing the old gnome before me. 

“Revilo. I was hoping I could avoid your foolishness for at least one lifetime.” He gave a wide, sharp toothed grin and lowered his hood. The last time I saw Bartleby his hair was a vibrant violet color, in stark contrast to his dingy brown-gray skin tone. Now we were both older, but he had aged much more. His hair was almost entirely white, a few streaks of violet still mixed in, giving a lavender color if one were to look from far away. He was always sensitive about his ridiculously colored hair, always travelling with that old cloak of his to cover it up. Now it looked even more ridiculous, but I kept that to myself.

We got to talking and drinking, reminiscing about the old days in the Arkhosian. Bartleby grew up in the lava caverns below Incendium. Gnomes were treated poorly by the dragonborn, even as gnomish inventions and magic weapons became a solid staple in the Legion’s arsenal. When I first met Bartleby, it was on one of my merc jobs, stealing explosives and firearms for a resistance group. Crux was a researcher for the Legion. Not by choice obviously, he was chained to his lab table when I broke in. I considered killing him so as to leave no witnesses, even brought my blade to his throat. The little man begged for his life, promising that he would let me take whatever I wanted as long as he would be spared. Took a moment to figure things out, but I had a better idea. I asked if he was the one that built all of the war machines in the room, which he answered yes and bragged on being one of the most renowned and educated engineers in the Legion labs. Then I asked if he liked it here. He looked shocked. I don’t think anyone ever asked if he liked where he was before. I’m not sure he ever asked himself either. After a moment, he told me no. He worked impossible hours under extreme stress and got nothing but table scraps back for it. I told him about the resistance group outside the city, which he smiled at. He knew where I was going with this. “You want me to help them.” He mused, “Create weapons against the Legion instead.” I solemnly nodded, not knowing where his allegiance would fall at this point. He made the most awful, mischievous smile I had ever seen and offered his hand to shake. “It would be my pleasure.”

Ever since, Bartleby Crux has been a reliable ally against the Legion, and to the mercenary world as a whole. He started manufacturing elite military weapons both magical and alchemical, selling them to the highest bidder, never to a political affiliate.  We’ve had run ins over the years when I was still in the desert. Despite how selfish and egotistical the old gnome is, he never forgets a debt. I gave him a new life, and Bartleby has been grateful for it all these years. He may not be thrilled about it, but he will do me a favor if he can.

I asked what Bartleby was doing in Fastigum, to which he replied “the usual.” I knew that to be illegal weapons trade, and nodded. He said he heard about my doings all over the city, which would explain why he never tried to contact me. Crux was a private man, never wanted attention especially in his business. Understandable why he never sought out a local hero.

“So what do YOU need, Revilo.” He whispered, thinking I was in the market for something.

“Information,” I whispered back, “On a special kind of weapon that I’m in possession of. Or possibly….the weapon is the one in possession of me.”

Bartleby looked intrigued, giving me that creepy smile he has when something excites him, “Go on.”

I lifted the sword up, still wrapped in a cloth, and placed it on the table. My gnome friend slowly reached for the edge of the cloth, pulling it back to reveal the black metal hilt set with a dark ruby. He looked confused and stared more closely at the ruby, even taking out a little magnifying glass.

“Let me see!” he hissed. I initially thought he was addressing me, but apparently the magnifying glass responds to his commands. It glowed briefly and looking through the lens revealed that yellow eye in the ruby, staring with disdain at the curious gnome. “It has a soul…” he muttered to himself, “How does a sword have a soul?”

“Azadon.”

Bartleby jumped, grasping the back of his chair. “Who said that?”

“Me.” The mysterious blade said in its deep voice. Apparently, it can talk alongside the telepathy. That was unexpected. “I am not ‘a sword.’” It continued, “My name is Azadon and you will address me as such.”

“Astounding…” Bartleby said in a hushed voice “I’ve never seen anything like this, Revilo. Where did….Azadon come from?”

“I don’t know.” I turned my attention to the ruby at my sword’s hilt. “And you won’t tell me, will you?” The eye inside the ruby was gone, its voice silent. Azadon wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“As much as this…Azadon intrigues me, it’s beyond my area of expertise.” The gnome explained, stuffing the magnifying glass back into his satchel. “I can tell you everything there is to know about alchemical formulae or enchantments or rare metals, but a living soul inside of a weapon? Even a talking weapon, by the gods. It should be impossible.” Bartleby sat in thought, stumped. “Perhaps the Mages’ College. They have a facility in Fastigium, yes? If we could find a way to gain their trust, maybe they would know more about Azadon, or a case similar to this.”

I had never considered that. Zedyethe could even get me an audience with the archmage. But I didn’t want her getting involved in all of this…it could be dangerous, this sword that shouldn’t exist. I had no other way of knowing though.

“Alright.” I said, getting up from my seat, “Thanks for your help again, Bartleby. It was nice catching u-“

“Hold on!” Bartleby held up a single oil stained hand in protest, “You really can’t expect me to sit idly by as you discover the secret behind the most fascinating weapon I’ve ever seen. I’m coming with you, if only to find out this Azadon’s origins.” He placed his hood over his lavender-white hair and slung his satchel over his shoulder. It seems I’m constantly finding companions in the realm outside Arkhosia.

I asked Zedyethe about meeting with the archmage to ask a few questions, to which she had her own concerns. What do you need to know? Is there something wrong? I tried to calm her, but she was persistent. She even gave me that look she always has when she wants her way….and usually gets it. “Revi…”she said, her voice sultry, “Just tell me and then I’ll see what I can do. I can’t very well schedule an appointment with a random magus over nothing.”

I gulped, trying to find a way out. “Just this once.” I tried to reason, “Do this one favor for me, without question, and I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

She looked skeptical, I could see she wanted to argue more, but she knew how stubborn I could be. “Alright.” She pointed a slim finger, charged with magic, inches away from my face, “But you’re paying me back big time. Whenever and however I like. Understood?” I slowly nodded, which made her smile as she turned, leaving for the college shortly after.

The archmage was a tall, proud looking elf with long blonde hair, dressed in a robe of vibrant blues and purples lined with patterns of gold thread. Along its oceanic fabric, I could occasionally see the glimmer of arcane marks scattered all on the robes, many of which were very old. Perhaps they were the marks of all the archmages in the colleges’ history? I could have asked, but I had more pressing questions.

The archmage sat before his vast, clean desk in an ivory chair not unlike a throne, silent. Waiting for me to speak first. “Lord Archmage,” I began, bowing to show respect. He waved it off, and I continued less formally, “I have questions about a mysterious sword that I have found.” I pulled Azadon out of the cloth and presented it for the elven wizard to see clearly “Do you know anything of this?”

The archmage reluctantly leaned forward for a closer look, inspecting it for a brief time. He made eye contact with me for a moment, still silent, and rested back in his great chair. “What you have is called a Black Blade.” He said, sounding bored “This one is named Azadon, if it hasn’t told you so already. It is a sentient weapon that binds its own destiny with that of an individual who may best utilize its power. These individuals are rare, the sort that are equally skilled in both the sword and the arcane. Magi, as most would call you. Half-witted abusers of power, as others would say. Myself included in the latter.” He stood from his chair slowly and straightened a few books on his shelf. Even aside from the jab at my life’s work and study, I disliked this elf considerably. “Now I’m not saying that every magus finds a Black Blade just sitting around. That would be total chaos. No, the Blade chooses a master that it deems worthy of its own goals, for better or worse regarding the rest of the world. It is a blessing and a curse. Black Blades hold considerable power and you will never find a more suitable weapon to your technique. But you have a responsibility to it as well, to complete your destiny with Azadon. Whether you like it or not.” I felt a chill go down my back, and the archmage slowly turned to make eye contact. I swear, the man never makes a sudden move. ”To be honest, there isn’t any more I could tell you about this. In all my time, I have only ever seen one other Black Blade, and every report or sighting I’ve cared to pay attention to deems them a myth. I do however know of an….expert, so to speak, on this subject.”

That caught my attention and gave me an excuse to interrupt him “An expert? Where can I find him?”

The archmage gave a bitter smile that made me want to smack him. “She. Andraste used to be a professor here, actually. Used to be. Her teaching methods were too…brutal for my liking, and wholly unfit for an institute of learning such as this. I personally terminated her service here a few years after I became archmage. Last I had heard, Andraste was captured by the Legion for being part of some rally against Dythan. Serves her right, in my opinion. My apologies for leading you astray. Short of waiting for her release, I don’t see how you could possibly find any way to contact her.”

“Then you have no imagination.” I wrapped Azadon in the cloth again and headed towards the door, feeling a smile come on as I saw the archmages confusion, “Thanks for-“

The door slammed shut just as I was opening it. I turned back to the archmage, annoyed. “Was there something else?”

“Payment.” He said solemnly, eyes glowering down at me “My time is valuable and you dare not squander it on inane questions about an enchanted sword, however rare it may be. I-“

Zedyethe came in at that moment, a stack of paperwork in her hands. She acted surprised to see me still in the room, but I knew she did that on purpose. I knew her sneaky little tricks. “Oh!” she said, looking between us, “I’m sorry, I thought you two were done. Anyway, here’s the paperwork for this semester, sir.”

The archmage looked flustered now, apparently not so serious and nasty around a pretty girl. “That’s fine Zedyethe, just lay it on my desk. Your acquaintance was just about to make his payment for my time and be on his way.”

Dye looked shocked for a moment, but regained herself. “Revilo would be my friend, and last I checked we don’t charge friends of the college to ask a few questions.” She started in with that sultry voice of hers that makes men, women, even rampaging monsters her sweeties “Really now, does this have to be an issue?”

The archmage looked comically torn between his rage at me and his image in front of Zedyethe. “Fine!” he stammered, “You may leave, magus.”

I barely heard the last of his words before I booked it out of that office and towards the front door to find Bartleby. Dye briskly chased after, stopping me in a grand foyer filled with paintings and statues of famous alumni. “Wait! Can’t you please tell me what’s going on?”

I shook my head, “You promised me, no questions.” She looked sad, being left out of my plans “Look, I just don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want you to get involved.” I gulped “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Idiot, I don’t want you getting hurt either!” Dye yelled back, bringing attention to us from a group of students across the room. “Hehe, its okay. Nothing wrong here!” she explained to them. They still seemed pensive, but went on their way. One stayed behind, looking around to make sure no one else was around.

“Professor Neema? Could I talk to you?” the boy said nervously.

Dye put on a cheerful smile for the student “Of course. What can I help you with?”

“Well…” the boy looked cautiously at me, but continued despite my presence “If someone had, say, taken a familiar in training out of its cage and it accidently got away….what would happen to the person responsible?”

Zedyethe looked angry for a moment but calmed down before she spoke. “That person would take a failing grade for the entire semester.” The boy became pale at the sound of that.

“What if he were to replace it?” I interjected “Offer another creature suitable as a familiar?”

The boy looked hopeful and Zedyethe thought the situation over. “I suppose that would even things out. But its still a matter that’s up to the archmage…”

I reached into my pack and presented all my hermit crabs (except Henry)to the boy “Here,” I said, urging him to stretch his hand out, “These four crabs have been with me for some time. They are tame and accustomed to magical energy, even willing to bear an arcane mark. The archmage should be lenient if you promise to replace one run away familiar with four fresh ones. Right?”

The boy outstretched his hand and looked delighted as the crabs moved along his arm, single file and adorable. “Okay! Thank you, sir. I don’t think we even have any crab specimens in the lab. Again, thank you so much!” the boy hurried off, careful not to drop any of the new crabs.

Dye gave me a funny little smile. “That was sweet of you. You’re a good guy, Revilo.”

I shrugged “Sometimes.”

Dye stared at me for a moment, ‘Do whatever it is you have to do. I won’t stop you or pester you anymore. Just come back safe. Got it?”

“Got it.” I walked out the of the college, wondering why Zedyethe cared so much.

A Puzzling Adventure

Day 15: Our group was called to aid the temple of Bahamut today. Apparently, word gets around about our deeds. It seems there was more trouble in the sewers, people going in and never coming back. The temple gave us the aid of a samsaren cleric and what I can best describe as a constructed person. The samsaren looked as they all do; tall, pale, and malnourished. An eerie looking lot, but they are exceptional healers. The construct was just that- a metal being, moving on its own either through magic or alchemical fuel (it’s difficult to tell, even with my own considerable knowledge of the arcane).

These new companions led us to the sewer gate, the construct bending the door bar completely out of shape and allowing us access. I believe Bender will be an appropriate name for it at this point. We entered the sewers, surprisingly well lit with torches lining the tunnels. I attempted to detect magic in the area, but something was blocking my powers. Something pressed upon my mind, constricting my thoughts. As I struggled against it, a harsh voice seemed to cackle inside my head, making my ears ring painfully. I hid this experience from the others so as not to worry them. Whatever was down here was not to be taken lightly.

We continued down the hall, and came upon a handful of vishkanya, dressed in rags and wielding sharp kukris. We attempted to sneak by them, but we were spotted easily. Zedaythe hurried, concentrating her magic into a burst of light covering the entire room. She had entered their minds and Commanded them to come mindlessly forward. One vishkanya stood his ground, shaking but resisting the oracle’s influence. The others came like pigs to slaughter. Akai knocked out two of them at once, while Arliim shot an arrow through the heart of the next one and Bender pounded its great metal fist into another one’s skull. Nahjeel approached the last standing vishkanya and attempted to talk to him, ask him who he was and why they needed to fight strangers. The rag-clothed snak replied with a simple “You must die!” and made a wide sweep with his kukri at my friend. Nahjeel moved like a cobra, swerving to the side to avoid the blade, then quickly conjured a wickedly sharp dagger of ice. In an instant, the insane vishkanya’s gut was punctured and began to freeze, cracking and shattering out from the wound.

We tied up the two unconscious vishkanya, waking them up to be interrogated while Arliim and Sumi stood watch over the door ahead. It was pointless getting anything useful from them. They were being controlled, most likely by the same source that was blocking my sense of magical energy. No amount of pain to these bodies could ever get us the information we needed. Our party moved onward, leaving the two mind slaves tied up in a room full of their dead kin.

Sumi had the brilliant idea of sending a firebolt into the next room, in hopes of hitting whatever we might find there. If there was anything at all. That must have hit something bad, because the room erupted with fire, blasting Arliim into the opposite wall while Sumi took cover, only getting singed a little. The room ahead was now charred black and held nothing but burnt rags within. The next door was built of adamantine, standing unharmed by the explosion. It opened easily and we found quite a surprise at the back of the door. A lens of truth enchantment, stuck on a loop, played on its surface. It showed a room full of rich, bejeweled clothing filling the previous room with small piles of gunpowder scattered about. The robes alone looked to be worth millions in gold, the gunpowder could have been extremely useful (at least to me). Then, it showed Sumi’s firebolt, lighting the powder and destroying everything inside. We all gave the tree woman a serious stare at that image. She shrugged it off, saying everyone makes mistakes and the past is the past.

As we entered the next room, stone slabs shut us in and an hourglass poured away slowly. The walls came closing in, intending to crush us. There was much arguing of what to do, and in that time the hourglass emptied.  We all held our breath, waiting for the walls to crash in. But they merely lifted. It was a joke, nothing more than something to scare us. Annoying.

As the walls lifted, we saw three doors on each of them. Oh goodie. More doors. We separated to check each of the doors, Zedaythe and I took the left one. Peeking inside, we saw a single chest in the center of the room. There was no perceivable danger in the room, so I decided to open the chest. Zedaythe was cautious, standing well to the side as I opened the lid. I briefly saw a scaly head of tentacles then all I saw was gray for a moment, my other senses completely failing me. I tried to break free of whatever magic had me, but it was futile. Then I felt a warm touch, and my senses started to return. Zedaythe was using her magic to remove the stone afflicting me. As soon as I was free, I shut the chest and lifted it up, taking it with us. The stare of a gorgon was a powerful tool, we may be able to use it. I threw the tiny chest into Bender’s spacious chest compartment, sick of dealing with these ridiculous traps. If I could still sense, I would have easily found that heads aura inside. That was the mistake only children would make.

The others had some more mishaps with traps. I really wasn’t a fan, moving on now.

We unlocked a series of doors and came upon a wide, diamond shaped room. The strange thing about it was the water that filled almost all of it, starting ankle deep by the doorway and steadily going deeper into murky, swamp water. My magic detection still wasn’t working, so I sent Henry to wade into the water, my glowing mark allowing me to judge the depth. Something bubbled in the water. Something big. I whistled for Henry to return, but he was already rushing back. Whatever it was down there, it was enough to frighten him. Out of the water rose the head of a huge sea serpent, a grin of teeth like swords spreading across its draconic face. I’d never faced a sea serpent, but really how much harder could it be than a dragon of the desert?

Two more heads, identical to the first one. As all three heads rose nearly to the ceiling, I could see where the connected on a truly enormous body half submerged in the water. A hydra. Gods help us.

That was it for me. I was sick of all the twists and turns and puzzles of this place, unable to even sense magic just to find this horrible creature at the end. I was furious, could feel it welling up inside. Without even asking the others, I stepped forward into the water, waist deep, and inhaled deeply to prepare a Fire Breath spell. Something seemed different while I was doing this though. The hydra could feel it too, slinking back at the sight of me. I felt more power than I’ve ever had burning up in my chest, urging to be released. The air around me felt hot and the torchlights grew dim. I released my spell. To my surprise, black fire spewed from my mouth in a literal wave that engulfed both the hydra and that entire half of the room. Screams of pain could be heard behind the dark flames, but nothing at all could be seen. My breath grew faint and the spell began to subside. The mighty hydra, easily 10 times my size, sank into the pond, a mess of charred flesh and blood that stained the boiling water. I collapsed to my knees, exhausted. Where the hell did that come from?

“Me.”

I twisted around, shocked. It sounded like some loud deep voice had answered my thoughts, extremely close to my ears at that.

“Down here, at your side.”

The voice was still inside my head, but I felt a slight tug at my belt. I looked down to where my trusty scimitar always waited for me, only to find it replaced with a wicked looking black blade. It was still a scimitar in shape, but this one was wildly different than my old one. It had a deep ebony color to it, and an intricate design from some culture I’ve never seen before. Some of the patterns looked ifrit, while others resembled tribal orc designs, and others still were just mysterious . The handle was weird too. Longer than a usual scimitar, more like that of a falchion, built for two hands and a heavier blow. I drew this new weapon from my side, examining it. The sword had a round, deep red ruby set in its hilt. I stared into for a moment before a wide yellow eye appeared, looking back at me.

“There you are.” I heard only in my head, not with my ears like I had originally thought. “You may call me Azadon. What, pray tell, may I call you, young magi?”

My allies were not paying attention to me, they were busy taking scales from the hydra and emptying its stomach. “I am Revilo.” I thought, hoping that was all it takes to communicate with this blade.

“Revilo. As good a name as any. We are now bound, you and I. Revilo and Azadon. The magus and the blade.”

“What?” I thought, confused. “What does that mean?”

The strange black blade stayed silent. Zedaythe approached me, excited to show me a huge magic sword she had found in the water. I acted excited for her, but my own magic sword bothered me at the moment. Whatever it was, why ever it came to me, it could give me power like I’ve never seen before.

And that was a very intriguing thing indeed.