Report-93 - An Elegant Exit

Everlund — August 1367. The aftermath at Grimble's Tannery, a short walk with the Watchful Order, and a disappearing act outside the city walls.

Where we left off

The fight was over. The masked inquisitor had vanished through a portal, taking Harl Grimble and one patrolman with him. One patrolman stood frozen as an ice statue. The two survivors had been healed by Myrbec, and one of them had just shown the party wanted posters with their faces on them. Myrbec's Moonbeam still burned inside the double doors, and the whistles had been blown twice.

What now?

Telepathically, the party weighed its options.

Lambert, ever the tactician, pointed out that the moonbeam at the door did nothing but escalate things. The aim now was to de-escalate and get out. They had come for one thing — the holy symbol — so: find it, take it, and leave. The longer-term answer to being wanted was to go up the chain of command and present their own side of the story.

Rudi had a further suspicion. The masked man and the patrolman he took with him might be something special — agents of some kind. The remaining patrolmen looked like ordinary guards, and they might be genuinely baffled by what had happened in the last few minutes.

The holy symbol

Myrbec let the moonbeam go, mumbled, waved his stick and cast Locate Object, picturing the holy symbol they had come for. He sensed it to the north and about fifteen feet up: on the upper floor, past the top of the stairs.

On his way, Myrbec told the patrolmen that they seemed decent and trustworthy, so he would remove the moonlight so that no one else got hurt. The patrolman muttered to himself, wondering where the others were — they should have been here by now.

Myrbec strolled up the stairs as if it were nothing at all. There was no door at the top, only an open doorway into a living space. On a table to the left lay sewing things. Someone was crouching behind one of the beds: a young woman. Someone else was hiding behind the other bed: a middle-aged man in worn, shabby clothes, someone who had clearly seen hard times.

The spell pointed past the table, to an old chest with a domed lid. Myrbec put a finger to his lips for the two of them to see and searched it quickly. Inside were clothes and the kind of everyday things a young woman would need. In a small box was the holy symbol, matching its description. It looked more like a trinket than a relic — old and worn smooth, as if nobody had used it for ages.

The young woman stared at him, stunned. Myrbec could read the words on her lips: "What on earth are you doing in my things?"

Myrbec pocketed the symbol. He then took out a single gold coin, closed the lid and left the coin on top of the chest, still holding his finger to his lips.

Telepathically, he told the others there were two frightened people up there, probably Harl's workers. It would be best to get the patrolmen out of the building.

Going along — for a while

Myrbec's proposal: let the patrolmen escort the party towards their post. Once out of the building, the party could decide whether actually to go with them, or vanish — invisibility, a change of shape, gone with the wind. "Anything goes," said Rudi.

Rudi did worry about walking through town under escort, with the townsfolk staring and the party's faces fixed in everyone's memory. Lambert noted that the inquisitor had said he'd "seen enough" — he had presumably been gathering evidence of magic use, violence, or both. Going along for now would postpone the reckoning and keep their options open. Leaving by Dimension Door was always possible too. Myrbec pointed out the obvious, though: next time, the patrolmen would not let them walk freely.

Back downstairs, Myrbec told the patrolman that his friend wasn't upstairs either — so where had he vanished to?

Then Myrbec went on:

"Your notices say sightings must be reported. Who to? Then let's go and meet that person right away, and get this cleared up."

The patrolman said they report to their commander, who gives them their orders each day. "So you're willing to come voluntarily?"

"We have nothing to hide," said Myrbec. "We are men of peace, on this realm's business. There must be some misunderstanding here, and it should be cleared up as soon as possible."

Rudi privately chuckled at the thought that they might be sent off for a bath first — the tannery stink would let them slip out of many places.

The registration question

Rudi asked how self-registration as a "dangerous magic user" actually works. Is there paperwork?

The patrolman said it can be done at their barracks, though the Order would want to assess them first, which takes time. In their case, probably an interview as well. He added something telling: none of the people who have been sent for assessment through them have been seen again. They are moved on elsewhere, through the Night Watch.

"The Night Watch?" The patrolman explained: it is the legal arm of the mages' guild — the Watchful Order's police, so to speak, who hunt down unregistered mages.

Telepathically, the party pieced things together:

• Myrbec wondered whether the casters at the church — where Myrkul appeared — had been registered ones.
• If registered casters are being gathered and put to some use, and the Grand Duke is under someone else's influence…
• The rules have clearly been tightening. Either this is how the whole system now works, or it's a nasty plot running alongside it.
• They should have looked into Aidan, who was gathering these people, long ago. They never did meet him.
• The Watchful Order seems to have a lot of autonomy to deal with its own. But someone has to oversee them.

Rudi asked, "I take it you'll want to keep a suitable distance, as we're so dangerous — or are we going in irons?"

Myrbec answered for himself:

"As a free friend of nature, I have no love for metal shackles. I'll come of my own free will."

He followed it with a wink.

The patrolman hesitated. He kept glancing at the door, wondering why nobody had come despite the whistles. He was not persuaded. He mustered his courage and pulled shackles from his pocket. Wouldn't it be better to wear these anyway? All they knew of the party came from the posters and the fight just now — not that anyone saw much through the fog, though plenty happened. "In any case, the inquisitor vanished before we had you wrapped up."

Myrbec: "That is hardly our problem."

Rudi added that most of the damage came from people tripping over each other in the fog — or so it sounded. He hadn't seen much either. "Hard place to fight."

Myrbec pointed at the ice statues: those were the inquisitor's doing. And as a gesture of goodwill, he reminded them that he had healed the wounded only moments earlier.

The patrolman relented: "Let's go, then. For understandable reasons, we'll keep an eye on you."

"Eyes open is a good idea anyway," said Myrbec. "Saves you tripping over things."

The march

Their destination was Lion's Rest, the patrolmen's barracks. It's a fairly new place just outside the city, beyond the Downriver Gate on the western side. (Rudi's estate also lies west of the city.) It was not far.

Myrbec's plan, shared silently: leave through the Downriver Gate, turn left and follow the outside of the walls into open countryside, then vanish among the fields before reaching the barracks — and cause no commotion inside the city.

Rudi pulled his hood down deep. His new clothes, freshly made by Halivili, kept anyone from recognising him. Then he made himself invisible. So that their escorts would know he was still there, he played music the whole way — dreadful marching songs. Doing it deliberately badly takes real skill, and Rudi was magnificent at it. It was the worst music the patrolmen, Myrbec and Lambert had ever heard. The townsfolk sighed with relief as the racket passed out through the gate.

The disappearing act

Outside the gate the group turned left along the wall. Lambert cast Pass without Trace. Myrbec cast Invisibility on himself and Lambert. Rudi, already invisible, was simply gone.

The footprints ended at the wall.

The patrolmen were left standing there, arms hanging at their sides, wondering how it had happened. For a final touch, Rudi played a mournful horn — the sound of failure. A silent-film classic.

Myrbec was quietly delighted to be adding to the legend. He toyed with a new title, "the one who vanishes into the wind", but decided it wasn't quite legend material.

Next steps

The party discussed what to do next:

• Where to go. Retreating to Rudi's estate is the obvious move, but Rudi expects the Watchful Order to work out where they've gone and turn up there sooner or later.
• Dream messages. Over the coming nights, Rudi could use Dream to speak with Cornelius (and draw him here) and with Elara, the paladin investigating in Sundabar.
• Samuel. Rudi wonders whether Samuel, the cleric of Myrkul now studying the history of the Lute (Samuel's Tear), could offer an outsider's view of the Watchful Order.
• The rite. Myrbec now has the holy symbol. The holy water is still to be fetched from the temple. Cornelius's family crypt is here in Everlund, not far from Rudi's manor; visiting it might tell them more about the rite.
• Remote negotiation. Rather than walking into Lion's Rest, they could talk to the Order from a distance — by Scrying, or by projecting an image.
• Registration. The deadline has not yet passed. After it, unregistered casters are treated as criminals. The consensus: introducing themselves would be sensible — but on their own terms.

State at the end of the session

Open questions

• Who are the two people upstairs? The young woman owns the chest that held the holy symbol.
• What happened to the reinforcements? Nobody answered the whistles. Why not?
• The registration deadline: exactly when is it?
• Who's next: Dream visits to Cornelius and Elara, and possibly a talk with Samuel.
• Next session: tentatively Thursday 15.10 at 20:00.