Finally, soon after midnight, you are taken out to the stables behind the constabulary where your mounts await you. Several officers are there, and they then lead you through a maze of back streets and alleys, avoiding the main roads, to the southeast edge of Tybol. No one harasses you.
Before you runs the Imperial Road, curving south towards Vandrake.
Checking his saddle bags, Kadlian find a sealed letter from the Mayor inside. There is also a note attached to it -
"Enclosed is a letter of introduction which should guarantee you safe passage through the Empire. Also, my advisors advise me that I have not heard gossip of problems in Vandrake after all. You may want to change your travel plans. My constables can direct you to the correct road if you decide to do so."
It is signed by the Mayor.
"Hmmm... Oh, well, we shall head south anyway and see what the truth is in Vandrake. We can always journey on from there."
The constables wish you good bye and god speed, and you set off southeast down the Imperial Road for Vandrake.
Almost as soon as you are out of sight of Tybol and the constables you hear a loud belch from nearby.
"That sounds like Niko," says Vastelle.
You also note that Sian and his followers - excepting Nuanna - are not present either.
Kadlian reins in Fleetwing. "Okay, we might as well stop here and figure out what we want to do. Anyone know where Sian and his followers are?"
Niko turns visible.
"Dunno...he wasn't in the inn. Nuanna, do you know?"
The cleric shakes her head.
"He's been doing a lot of exploring the countryside with his other followers."
"Does he know we plan on leaving? I do not wish to abandon him, unless that is what he wishes."
Edelle steps out of the darkness.
"I am here as well," she says.
Kadlian smiles. "I was worried. So, if everyone else is accounted for, shall we decide where we want to head? I told the constable and Mayor we were going south, but I think we should strike west or north, instead. I was unsure how much to trust them. They did prevent things from getting too out of control in their town, but that does not mean they might not sell us out at the next town."
Nuanna smiles and shakes her head.
"In fact, I probably should read what the Mayor wrote in his letter of introduction."
Kadlian takes out the letter and breaks the seal. Taking out the letter he reads it by the light of his glowing longsword.
The letter within is written on fine vellum. There is an impressive coat of arms at the top.
The text reads -
"I, Rorgus Tartaris, Mayor of Tybol requests in the name of Clarvis, Emperor of Saltar, all those to whom it may concern to allow the bearer, one Kadlian Lun Folard, and those who accompany him, to pass freely without let or hindrance and afford the bearer such assistance and protection as may be necessary."
At the bottom is the Mayor's signature.
"Where's the tattooed freak?" Edelle asks, "And Kailar?"
Kadlian chuckles and puts away the letter. "Oh, well."
He answers Edelle, "Rage? Kailar? Are you two here as well?"
It is well after midnight.
"Rage has gone," says a voice, as a male of average height and unremarkable features fades into view. The man is holding the staff that you all know to be Rage's. "For now, I have been sent in her place."
Malvis turns white for a moment, then asks, "What did you do with Rage?"
Kadlian's eyes narrow. "Rage has gone...where?"
"Away," the man replies, "But will return when the time is right."
"Could you be a little less mysterious? Rage is my friend and it is unlike her to vanish like this. I would have at least expected a word or two before she disappeared."
"She was indisposed," the man says before rolling on the ground, laughing.
Before your eyes, the man melts away and becomes none other than Rage.
"I'm back," she says, still laughing. "Miss me?"
Kadlian sighs heavily. "I was, but now I am not so sure."
"Wounded," the woman says. "Kad, you wound me... Should I leave again? That can be arranged."
Kadlian chuckles. "You are wounded? I should take you over my knee for that little stunt, but you would probably enjoy it!"
Malvis turns several shades before he regains control of himself, then asks Rage, "Do you often come and go like that?"
"Only when it suits me," the mage says, "Only when it suits me."
"I thought it was kind of funny," interjects Kailar.
"Oh please," the woman says, "Don't tease me like that."
"Then please behave. Your supposed disappearance had me quite worried. And you likely knew what my reaction would be before you pulled this stunt. Do you really enjoy manipulating my emotions like that?"
"So I guess the Lich gets to continue to haunt the sewers. Where we headin' to?"
"What are we supposed to be finding again?" the mage says. "Some sword somewhere? Or are we on the robe detail? Let's go West and see what's happening that way."
"We are supposed to go to Atlantia to find the Robe. At least, that is where we think it is. We stopped in Tybol to rest and have a little fun adventuring. It did not turn out as we had hoped."
"So, west is fine with me, if everyone is in agreement."
"Actually," interjects Wizbang, "If we're going to Atlantia, then it is to the east."
Rage jumps up suddenly.
"The Light. I have seen the light," she says. "It's time for a change. The way is clear to me now."
Rummaging in her pack, she pulls out a sash, and puts in on around her head. The sash is multicolored, dominated in purple.
"No more will we be divided. Unity abounds," says the mage, smiling, her gaze dwelling on Malvis and Kadlian in particular. "Come, Malvis, we're saving the king."
You notice a lighter step in the mage's walk.
"Um...Rage? What king are you going to save? And where are you going to save him?"
"West," the mage replies. "Come now, our first duty is to protect the king."
"What King?"
"THE King," Rage replies.
"Yes, I understand his title, but there are many kings. My king is King Goldhine of Aldacan. Of which king do you speak?"
Rage rolls her eyes.
"THE KING," she says. "Let's get going."
"Rage, you can blaze those words across the sky and I'll still not understand any better. This king must have a name, right? And he must be the king of some territory, right? So, what's his name and what territory does he rule?"
"The King, you know the one who needs the cloak and scepter and everything, he who comes from Memphis...Elvis," the mage replies merrily, "For don't you step on my blue suede shoes."
"I was afraid of that response," says Malvis, his head hanging and with much resignation in his voice, "But we might as well go along with her. Does anyone else have a better suggestion? At any rate, we were already headed to the West, I believe."
Rage shakes her head.
"Does the name matter?" she asks, "We have a King to save and we dwell on menusha. If I said his name was Elrond, would that make a difference? The King, the once and future King is who we need to rescue. Come or not, I care not anymore, we bicker and dicker and waste time and energy. No more infighting, we move forward, as a company and maybe we'll find some recruits along the way."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Malvis says with patch over one eye. "The crew be with 'ya."
Kadlian continues to be perplexed by Rage's Ramblings.
Kadlian shakes his head. "No, I do not know of Elvis. I remember some impersonators back in the Black Keep, but I never did understand who they were impersonating.
"I do not know of Elrond, but if you want to head to Atlantia, that is fine.
"But, I do not know why we go to save whatever the King's name is. We are to find the Robe, remember?"
"First we sleep, since it is late. And then we go East to Atlantia," the mage says. "Thank you Miss Wizbang for having a better sense of direction than I."
Kadlian shrugs. "True. I took a nap while in jail, so I guess I did not really pay attention to the time. Tomorrow, then, we go east to Atlantia."
Suddenly someone steps out of the darkness.
A slightly startled and somewhat confused Grey Elf looks around, her eyes widening briefly at the sudden sight of strangers.
The Grey elf is typical of her kind, though beneath her cloak is a suit of plate mail that has been lovingly polished to a shine despite the obvious fact that it must have been in service a great many years, more years than she can obviously account for. Her silver braids disappear beneath the armor, so that attackers cannot take hold of them during battle. Her violet eyes appear reserved, but friendly. She is no beauty, but to her own people, she is at least attractive and her manners impeccable.
She stands 5' tall and over her armor is a full cloak in a shade of sage green with a deep smoky purple trim with matching gloves and boots. She smiles slightly, her eyes looking amused.
"It would appear you all have the advantage of me. I am Galil-Gadith, but those not of my land usually call me Gabby." she says softly, looking composed now, though obviously quite confused as to her circumstances and whereabouts.
A short woman looks up suddenly and shakes wine from a colorful sash she is wearing around her waist. "Excuse me. This sash was a gift to me from the queen of America."
Galil raises her brows slightly. "It is a lovely sash. The Queen must think quite highly of you," she replies softly, a bit puzzled by the comment.
Disarmed by the comment, Rage says, "Well, umm, yes."
The woman scratches her head. "Malvis, take a note. Remind me to work on that spell. I didn't think I put illusions in it and I certainly don't want to have people popping in without announcing. We need to get a good butler spell."
"Spell? Your spell brought me here?" Galil asks. "I am no illusion, of that I am certain."
"Umm... I don't think my spell did this, unless you are supposed to be the butler for my shelter," the mage says. "However, it is possible that there has been a tear in the very fabric of the universe and the summoning of the house caused you to be here too. But since you are here, I will have to assume you are the butler for the house. Malvis take another note, next time we summon the butler, let's make sure we don't get a horse as well."
Galil pauses as she digests what Rage has said. "A tear in the fabric of the universe, a summoned house, a butler?"
"I am a mage, after all." the woman says, "We do summon things, and occasionally the gods play dice with us."
Galil nods. "Yes, that I can understand."
"You do? Sing with me and find the key," the mage replies.
Galil smiles, knowing how her teachers despaired of her ever being able to carry a melody. She takes a deep breath and begins to sing in a husky contralto. It is a fast paced song, perhaps a song for elven children or hobbits.
"The end of the Civil War was near when quite accidentally,
A hero who sneezed abruptly seized retreat and reversed it to victory.
His medal of honor pleased and thrilled his proud little family group.
While pinning it on some blood was spilled and so it was planned he'd command F Troop.
Where Indian fights are colorful sights & nobody takes a lickin‚
Where pale face and redskin both turn chicken.
When killing and fighting get them down, they know their morale can't droop.
As long as they all relax in town before they resume with a bang and a boom F Troop."
Galil shrugs gently, "It is a children's song as I am not talented in singing."
"Clearly, as it made no sense to me. Malvis, note about looking up F troop."
Turning back to the new arrival, the mage says, "I am known as Rage, and people not of my race call me... well, call me Rage too."
The woman has fiery red hair, is wearing a tunic and britches, as well as the colorful sash. She has a staff nearby and a tall pointed hat.
"Rage, good day to you." Galil replies with another amused smile. "You must be a powerful spellcaster indeed to have brought me here. It is no wonder you are highly regarded."
"Well, it's night. After midnight local time." the woman says, "So you might want to find a bunk and turn in for the evening. There is plenty of room."
"Thank you for your hospitality." Galil says, grasping the reins of her horse and speaking softly to it for a moment before turning back to Rage.
"You speak horse? I might have to have you teach me that," Rage says, "My horse and I don't seem to be on the same page."
"It isn't so much a matter of speaking horse, it is very much a matter of understanding their nature and working with it. They are not like us in mind and so must be approached in other ways," Galil explains patiently.
"Yea, yea... whatever," the mage says. "I just want it to go where and when I want to. Magic carpets are much more predicable."
"Indeed they must be. Magic carpets are devices of magic that we control. Horses have minds of their own and so cannot be used as one would use a device."
"A pity," the mage says, "But much like men."
"I would be most interested in learning exactly what the circumstances are here. I've heard the news that The Empire of Salter has been re-established and is claiming all that was once part of their old\ Empire. Are we in a part of the old or new Empire of Saltar?" she asks, her eyes more intense now.
"Tomorrow, in the morning. I like my coffee black, and my bread lightly toasted."
"I am not familiar with making ... coffee is it? I would be happy to share what food I have in return for shelter this evening. As my bread is several days old now, toasted would be best. Again, thank you," Galil says. "Is there a stable for my mount?"
"We have plenty of food, right everyone," the woman says. "There should be some in the pantry, over there."
Galil's eyes show her confusion, but she recovers quickly. "Thank you, but I have no need of food. I was offering what I had in exchange for shelter this night. If food is not needed, then I will be happy to pay some fee for staying here."
"Nah, don't worry about it. If you were summoned as the butler, that mean I have to pay you. However, we can call it even and that will be that."
"Even? But I have yet to make payment of any kind for your hospitality," Galil replies.
"Consider it paid for."
"Oh, Malvis, another note, I have an idea for a new spell, summon The A Team," the mage says. "It will require a leather jacket, a cigar, a gold necklace and some spectacles."
"Gabby, you do not know of the elixer of mornings? Coffee? Are you some sort of early riser who's instantly on and awake when the sun rises in the west."
"The sun rises in the west here?" Gabby asks, unable to contain her amazement this time. "Perhaps I should ask exactly where 'this' is? This is Earth? Somewhere near Sincity?"
"Yes, last time I checked this was Earth, well, more or less, since we are in a magical rip in the fabric of time and space. This is a little pocket of my own magic, but out that door, yes, that is Earth."
Galil seems quite relieved, though still concerned about exactly where on Earth she is.
"As for where we are, I would ask that morose elf over there, his name is Kadlian, and he usually has better manners than this."
Galil bows ever so slightly in Kadlian's direction, her eyes showing great curiosity at his presence.
"Over there, the little gnome is Kailar, a wonderful illusionist, but don't play cards with his cat, you'll lose. You met Dor D'och. And over there, the one taking all the notes is Malvis, he's an illusionist and a general nice guy. Where's Niko? He's a sailor but lost his boat. And of course there are a bunch of others who have come to us. Miss Wizbang, for example, has a wonderful sense of direction. Who else is there?" she asks, looking around.
Galil nods to each in turn.
"Greetings, Galil-Gadith. I am Kadlian Lun'Folard, Ranger of Aldacan, and leader of this group. From your handling of your horse, I am guessing that you are a ranger as well? Or do you just have an affinity with them?"
"It is an honor Kadlian Lun'Folard. I am not a ranger but a Cavalier in the service of Forseti," she replies respectfully. "Lord Kadlian, what are you leading this group to do? And more importantly, where?"
Kadlian looks surprised. "How did you know that I was a lord? A cavalier that serves Foresti? Hmmm... I worship Solonor Thelandira, but I do not think of her very often."
Galil shrugs. "You are a high elf, far from your homeland and leading a mixed group on some mission. Who else but a Lord would be in such a position?"
Kadlian laughs. "I have been leading this group for a few years and only recently have I been qualified to be called a Ranger Lord. Interesting assumption."
"You know, we need a bard. There has to be a song in there about a ranger lord," the woman says, "Gabby, I appoint you our official bard. Make up a song about a ranger lord."
Galil smiles. "A Lord is a lord, whether or no it is recognized by those who have such rules and designations."
"We are searching for one of the lost artifacts of Saltar. And we are headed to Atlantia to search for it."
Galil's eyes brighten at the mention of this. "Indeed? I have heard that he already possesses the scepter. Do you believe the other accutrements of power will be found in Atlantia?"
Kadlian frowns and his eyes flash. "So we have heard. The sceptre that we recovered from the Rift of the Dead at great cost only to have it stolen by Zanax in some misguided fit of stupidity."
"What is Zanax? YOU recovered the scepter?" she asks in disbelief. Her eyes sweep the members of the party. "And how was it that you let it go?"
Kadlian snaps his fingers. "That reminds me. Zanax was trying to contact me when we fought those guards. I told him to give me five minutes and contact me again. He never did."
"Hold on everyone, just give me a minute to see if I can contact him."
Kadlian closes his eyes and calls out to Zanax using his mind.
Galil waits patiently.
"Take a note Malvis, we need to send for the intercostical clavical some time soon."
"Rage, are you feeling well? You are making very little sense which is very unlike you..."
"I feel good. I knew that I would, yea," Rage replies, "As for my notes to Malvis. The intercostical clavical is a component for a new spell I am thinking about. And I want to keep a record of my ideas, and until I invent the palm pilot, I'll need to ask Malvis to keep the notes."
Kadlian shakes his head. "Up until tonight, you were rarely this talkative and certainly not so... so random in thought and word."
"Moi? Not talkative? Never," the mage says.
"Less talkative and certainly not so random."
"All these thoughts are not random, they are the product of years of processing and only now is the answer, which is 42, clearly available," the mage replies.
"Anyway, let me think how far is Atlantia from where I grew up."
"Malvis, take another note, summon a stable next time as well."
"Sorry, no stables, but your horse could stay in here, or I could shrink it for the night."
A tall, handsome warrior steps forward, "Greetings beautiful lady. I am Dor D'Och at your service."
"Thank you Dor D'Och." she nods. "Perhaps you can tell me where I am?"
She glances around, her eyes darting to canvas the entire area as she speaks. Her stance is one of alertness, a long sword is at easy reach beneath her sage green cloak.
"I thought your name was Dor D'Och, recently of the Barons service," Rage replies. "Did you shorten it? I always thought recently of the Barons service was a strange last name."
Dor looks confused. "I have been with you and this force of free lancers for sometime, Rage. You know that."
Rage casts Lemound's Secure Shelter and go inside, inviting the others into her small hovel as well.
In the morning you continue to Atlantia.
The day is overcast and hot, but with very little humidity for a change.
You ponder your options. The Imperial Road would take you to Atlantia, but makes a long swing south through Vandrake before curving up again to continue on to the capitol. However, while you were in Tybol you heard that a lesser road runs directly east from Tybol, thereby making for a more direct journey. You decide to leave the Imperial Road and cut across the fields and pastures until you intercept this shorter route.
Striking out to the northeast, you reach this other, nameless road within fifteen minutes, and turn east down it.
The road is busy. You pass many farmers heading west into Tybol for market day; most on foot, carrying their wares for sale in sacks over their backs; a few on donkeys pulling small carts. You also pass or overtake merchants, other travelers and a few patrols of soldiers in the Imperial livery.
By afternoon you have left the last of the farmlands which encircle Tybol behind and have entered a wooded area, with broad shade trees overhanging the road. If this were a sunny day you would appreciate this more.
Suddenly, something drops out of a tree and lands atop Vastelle! It is a giant tick!
Niko, finally over his bout of laryngitis, says, "Look! There's a giant tick on Vastelle."
He ignites his cutlass and looks upwards for other ticks as someone else helps Vastelle out.
Kadlian jumps from Fleetwing, drawing his dagger from his belt, and stabbing the tick at an angle parallel to Vastelle's neck.
Rage looks around for more ticks, ready to cast magic missiles at them.
Galil's lance is ready as she spurs her mount forward towards Vastelle.
Windul heads her off, forcing her to keep her distance.
Dor looks up, in case more ticks start dropping.
"AAAA!" cries the elf, as the tick starts sucking her blood.
Kadlian drives his dagger into it, killing the horrible monster. It drops off of Vastelle.
You ride on.
"If I may, I will travel with you as it has been my wish to travel there myself to discover more of the old Saltar Empire," Galil says.
"If you wish, you are welcome to do so. By the way, where is your homeland located?"
"I'm paranoid about this person," cuts in Windul. "She could be a spy hell-bent to kill us! Let's do her in before she does us in!"
Galil smiles at Windul. "You are quite right - I could in fact be a spy and perhaps I even want to do you in. How can you be sure of my intentions? Or is killing the unknown the only policy you have in mind?" Galil asks, relaxed yet alert for any sudden moves from Windul and those around him.
"That has been the policy of this party," the elf replies coldly. "If Hlarn were still here then we would kill you and then interrogate your severed head to ascertain if you were a threat or not."
Kadlian smiles. "Are you taking Hlarn's place in the party, Windul? We do not kill those who we mistrust. We just run them out of the party."
"And we don't mistrust this one?"
Galil can't help but smile. "It is reassuring to know that. However, you do in fact have no reason to trust me and so if there is something I can do to alleviate your fears, please let me know. These days, mistrust can have more evil consequences than dealing with known enemies."
"My family's lands are near the borders of Dorian," Galil replies.
"Lord Kadlian, do you know if it is normally this busy on this road?" Galil asks softly, watching all the traffic with curious eyes.
Kadlian shrugs. "No idea. Never been here before."
"Interesting," she says softly, keeping her ears alert for snippets of conversation of the other travelers. She guides her horse so that she can inconspicuously listen in on other travelers, moving from group to group while keeping near enough the main party.
Apart from blocking traffic, the cavalier achieves nothing of consequence.
That night you stay in a roadside inn (10sp includes a meal). It sure beats sleeping in the woods.