‘Renewing old ties’
Part 4 The Clockwork Maze
Mission Report by Thar Nomis, Ranger of the Elvenblood
River, Herald to the Temple of Tymora, and Dashing Young Bard
about Town.
The Mission Report:
It is now nine days since the rest of my party and I left Sarbreenar.
Time was fast running out for our adopted city, and unless we
were able to complete are mission and return to Sarbreenar within
the week with reinforcements, we feared the city would be over
run by the Zhentarim Army.
First light on the morning of the ninth day, a day’s ride
south from High Haspur, and according to our map, still some three
hours from the strangely named ‘Clockwork Windmill.’
We had been unable to gather much information about our destination,
other than a brief description of the building. Records in High
Haspur were surprisingly vague, unheard of really for Gnomish
book keeping. What sketchy information there was, was that it
had been abandoned by the Gnomes who had built it, almost three
centuries ago. Those Gnomes who were searching the other possible
seven sights where Princess Syrina might be being held, seemed
greatly relived not to have gotten the Windmill as their mission.
When questioned about their apprehension, their worries and fears
seemed to be based purely on superstitions and old ghost stories
from times past. Their fear seemed so irrational for so logical
a race; but it had been effective enough that no Gnome had visited
the site in living memory. There was no official record for the
reason behind the warning issued by a High Lord of High Haspur
almost three centuries ago, to stay away from the Windmill. The
only reference we could find as to why, was a most cryptic note,
scrawled by a shaky hand and stuffed between the pages of the
Windmills description and location.
"We thought to surpass nature with
our skill, but creatures with no soul care not for our frailties.
Seek wisdom and happiness in the harmony of true life, for what
emotions and selfless passion can one create in spring and steel
that is not but a false and shadowy copy, doomed to failure."
We pondered much over this note as we rode towards the ‘Clockwork
Windmill’, as to its meaning, and what warning it might be
trying to give us.
As the day’s ride progressed, I was also thinking a lot
about the Cleric Rusty Double Hammer, and his promise of support
from his church if we should be successful in rescuing Princess
Syrina. I am normally a very good judge of character, and the
absolute certainty I felt in believing the Clerics word of support
should have reassured me that he would keep his word; as it was,
for some unfathomable reason, it unnerved me. I just couldn’t
put a mental finger on the reasoning behind my unease; it was
just a gut instinct that something just wasn’t quite right.
It wasn’t even as if this feeling was trying to warn me of
some unseen danger. No matter how long I thought about it, or
tried to make sense of it, I was unable to find any clear reason
behind the feeling other than what it was a gut instinct. In the
end I simply had to put it to one side, and promise myself that
I would make a few inquiries about Rusty Double Hammer upon our
return to High Haspur.
Meanwhile, I had to another problem on our journey that needed
my attention… I had to keep Jerome in his saddle. Jerome
had had no chance to recover from his night’s watchkeeping
before we set out on our mission. He was quite literally falling
asleep in the saddle. If I let my attention wonder for to long,
I would be brought back from juggling my mental puzzle, with a
thunderous crashing, as the mithril encased Watchman toppled from
his horse. This was the main reason we camped for the night after
the first day’s ride, even with time being such an imperative,
and hadn’t push on the last few hours to the Windmill. If
we were to successfully defeat the attacks we were all certain
would face us in or forthcoming rescue attempt, we would need
Jerome’s skill at arms, and not have him enter battle so
exhausted he wouldn’t be able to even lift his sword.
After breaking camp, we travelled the last few miles to the Windmill.
I must admit, even with the gravity of our mission, I was eagerly
anticipating my first sight of the ‘Clockwork Windmill’,
its description if it was to be believed from the Gnomish records,
was nothing short of wondrous. We negotiated the last mountain
valley, and as we exited its forested pass, there before us stood
our journeys end.
Its description did not do it justice. The building was colossal.
We were still a half hours ride from its base, and in clear crisp
morning mountain air, we could see the building in all its glory.
It was staggering. It towered into the sky, its very pinnicle
lost in the upper clouds. Four gigantic sails turned slowly in
the morning breeze. Its sides seemed unblemished with a single
marking or weather scaring. The only entranceway we could see
from our vantage point was one large double doorway at its base,
directly below the sails central axis. What was even more incredible
was that the whole structure appeared to be made out of metal.
I have some knowledge of Engineering and Architecture, but I couldn’t
even begin to comprehend how such a titanic building could have
been constructed. Why the quantity of raw materials that would
be needed in base metal alone, was simply staggering. Powerful
magic must have been used in its construction.
I looked around my companions, seeing that they too were in awe
at the mind-boggling sight. I tried to make an off-hand joke to
lighten the mood, "Well my lady and gentlemen, at least we
can be assured of one thing… we don’t have to fear any
attacks from rust monsters. Even with old Jerome over there wrapped
in his mithril plate; we wouldn’t even warrant a nibble."
I got a few polite chuckles for my effort.
We make our way cautiously towards the mammoth structure. I took
the lead, scanning the ground around us looking for signs of tracks;
but other than those of indigenous mountain valley wildlife, I
can spot nothing out of the ordinary. When I inform my party of
my findings, or lack of them, they seem to take little reassurance
in the information. I know what they must be thinking, anything
that can successfully hide its passage from my tracking ability,
must have great skill indeed.
We finally make it to the Windmill’s base, and its large
entrance. We pause a moment as we inspect the structure once more.
It is indeed made completely from metal, flawless in its construction,
without seam or moulding. After circumnavigating its base, we
can find no other entrance other than the large metal double doors
we had originally seen from the top of the valley. We picket the
horses, Zuke having a word with them to stay close by, and we
approach the doors.
Geroff takes point, inspecting them for locks and traps. It’s
hidden lock located, and finding no traps, we ready ourselves
for anything, and push open one of the doors. The large door almost
ten feet high and three feet thick swings open effortlessly and
silently.
Before us opens an immense hallway, empty and devoid of all decorations,
its walls ceiling and floor once more made of flawless steel (this
we were to discover, would be the same in every corridor and room
through out the Windmill). At its end on either side, are two
doorways. As will become standard practice through out our search
of the Giant Steel Windmill, Geroff, always leads first, checking
for traps and listening for any sign of danger at any doorway
we come across. (A true and loyal friend, I know my Hobbit brother
can act the roguish scoundrel and practical joker from time to
time… well, ok, all the time, but when it comes to the dangerous
task of finding and disabling even the most cunning and lethal
traps, magical or non-magical, there is non better. No secret
or locked door, chest or cabinet of any kind, can withstand his
keen eye of nimble fingers for long.)
Finding no traps and hearing no sign of danger, we all move as
silently as possible to the hallways end and open the doors one
after the other. Both lead to large rooms; one is completely empty,
the other contains a small metal box which is fastened immovably
to the metal floor, and has a small narrow machined slit in its
side. We also find a scroll, inscribed with a short riddle.
I am the ruler of shovels
I have a double
I am as thin as a knife
I have a wife.
WHAT AM I?
As the others search for hidden doorways that will lead us deeper
into the Windmills interior, I ponder the riddle. Suddenly its
meaning becomes startlingly clear to me, and I open my pouch taking
out my much used Talis deck. Cutting the deck once, I turn over
the top card… The King of Spades.
The answer to the riddle was the King of Spades; the same card
Tymora had dealt Heinrich as we played for the restoration of
my life, after my slaying at the hands of the Zent assassins.
A second idea occurred to me; the metal box with its slit-like
opening. Saying a silent prayer of thanks and hope to Tymora,
I inserted the card into the slot. Shouts of surprise assailed
my ears from my other companions who were in the hallway. No hidden
doorway had been unlocked, but the whole hallway itself had begun
to move forward revealing another passageway. Unfortunately, this
movement was also sealing the two rooms behind the hallway’s
two foot thick metal walls as they slid across the room’s
entrances. I dashed towards the room’s exit before it sealed
me in, but it was hopeless. I was trapped.
I quickly returned too the metal box, and with some trepidation,
attempted to remove the card. Success; I was able to remove the
card with ease, and the Hallway once more moved back to its original
position, uncovering the room’s two exits, but sealing the
hidden passageway once more. After explaining what had happened
to the others, we decided to cast the spell Mage Hand and
use it to insert the card whilst we all stood in the corridor.
The plan worked without a hitch, and we found the way open to
the inner sanctum to the Windmill.
The passageway lead to a series of rooms and our first hostile
encounter. After finding nothing of interest other than an old
storage room, we entered another large hall, and were immediately
set upon by some most unwholesome creatures. They looked like
man size lobsters, which attacked using their large vicious claws.
At first these fearsome looking creature appeared to pose little
threat with their physical attacks, as our own superior martial
skills were easily defeating them. But as a fourth then a fifth
fell beneath our attacks of sword, arrow and magic, I began to
notice the unnerving effect their close proximity was having upon
my companions.
The creatures were radiating a supernatural aura of fear, which
was affecting many of those in the party, and slowly turning the
tide of the fight in their favour. Serin and Hamlin succumbed
to the full effects of this aura, and ran in fear as more or the
creatures appeared. I knew that if I didn’t counter this
spell-like charm soon, eventually we would all succumb
to its effect, and it would not matter how poor the creatures
fighting talents were, as we would be helpless to defend ourselves.
With rousing Bardic ode and verse, I fought off the effects of
the creature’s aura from my companions minds. Freed from
the induced fear; we continued the fight with renewed vigour,
fighting an almost continuous battle for every square foot of
corridor, hallway and room, as we progressed deeper into the inner
core of the Windmills ground floor.
Our initial assessment of the danger these creatures posed to
us had been wrong… very wrong. As we fought our way through
the lower level of the Windmill and encounter more and more of
these creatures, additional dangers from their attacks began to
manifest themselves. Though I was able to counter the aura of
fear they radiate, their touch was also draining the very will
power of those they successfully attacked. We had to defeat these
creatures quickly, for should we be completely drained of our
own will to fight, not even my inspiring words of courage would
be enough to sturdy my companions hearts.
We finally reached what appeared to be the creature’s main
nesting area, in a huge steel hall. Hanging on every side of the
metal walls, were large moth like cocoons. This was to be the
final battle against these ‘Mind Lobsters’, but yet
again a new weapon in the creatures arsenal was brought into play,
and we faced yet another new challenge in defeating them.
The creatures began to ‘Blink’ in and out of existence,
materializing seemingly randomly behind us or next to us in no
discernable pattern. This greatly frustrated any coordinated attack
we tried to initiate. Half the time, before we were even able
to respond to their unexpected attacks from areas only moments
before had been free from danger, the creatures would disappear
again, only to reappear and attack another member in the party
equally unexpectedly.
Ultimately with the aide of my verse and ode’s of bolstering
my companion’s courage and skill at arms; and with great
valour and cunning use of magic, we were able to defeat the last
of the foul creatures. We had searched all of the ground floor
of the Windmill, and we now turned our attention to the cocoons
hanging on the walls in the nesting area.
As we had rightly guessed, they contained the paralyzed bodies
of gnomes. Many fitted the descriptions of those gnomes which
had gone missing around the area of High Haspur, though some of
the poor unfortunate souls, seemed to have begun a mutation whilst
encased in the cocoons, being transformed into the same type of
‘Mind Lobster’ creature we had just defeated. None fitted
the description of the Princess Syrina, and thankfully the luckless
gnomes that had begun the transformation were all male. There
was still hope that the princess was alive and waiting to be rescued
by us some where in this mammoth building. We would just have
to continue are search.
The gnomes we had now released from their cocoons remained paralyzed
in a catatonic state. It would have be impossible to take them
with us as we searched the rest of the Windmill, so we decided
to confined then for their own safety in the old storage room
we had found. Zuke and Hamlin had examined the gnome survivors
carefully, and were confident that they would remain in there
catatonic state for days, or until they were revived through clerical
healing. This would allow us to continue our search for the princess,
without the worry of the gnomes awakening and possibly harming
themselves in panic.
Once the gnomes were secured, we returned to the nesting sight.
From this great hall there were two routes we could take to continue
are search. The first was a chained and padlocked doorway which
we had been forced to open by slicing the chain apart using Jerome’s
adamantine sword. This doorway lead to a winding staircase which
descended to levels beneath the Windmill. The other was another
circular staircase in the centre of the great hall that ascended
to the Windmills upper levels. We chose to first investigate the
lower levels, thinking that as this route had been so securely
padlock that not even Geroff had been unable to open it, it might
well lead to more significant finds.
Two very wasted and frustrating hours later, we once more found
ourselves back in the nesting Hall. The only thing we had found
in all this time spent searching the lower floors, had been level,
after level, after level of coiled spring steel. It was like the
inner workings of a wound up pocket watch, but as with everything
in this structure, on a monumental scale.
Spending a few moments to check on the gnomes in the store room,
we then took the stairs to the upper levels. Well over a thousand
flights of stairs later, we reached the next level. The whole
floor was covered in traps, and Geroff, with Hamlin to assist
him, were hard pressed in disabling them all. Both were wounded
a number of times whilst making the passageways safe for the rest
of us. There were two rooms of interest on this level; the first
contained the skeletal remains of an armoured human and a single
picture of the Windmill itself hanging on one of its walls. I
had deduced using my knowledge of architecture that a similar
room should have been mirrored on the other side of the Windmill;
but when we examined the metal wall where a doorway should have
been we could find no opening. Geroff studied the room from the
doorway and could locate no hidden traps. I still didn’t
like the feel of it; it reminded me too much of the room that
I had found myself sealed in on the ground floor near the Windmills
entrance. I sensed a trap, no matter how safe Geroff and Hamlin
said it was.
I cast a spell and called forth my trusty servant Jeeves and
had him enter the room. I sent him to investigate the picture
on the wall, specifically to attempt to remove it and hand it
to us in the door way so we might examine it more closely. As
soon as he moved the picture, the walls of the room moved, slicing
across the doorway, and sealing it tight. Giving Geroff and Hamlin
a knowing smile, I recalled Jeeves to my side, and we moved on.
The second room of interest on this level was by far the most
interesting we had discovered so far. After Geroff had finally
manage to unlock the door, (thought for a while we were going
to have to rely on Jerome and his Two Handed Adamantine tin opener
after my brothers second failure), we were confronted by the room’s
guardian. The large room appeared to be a workshop of some kind,
with a large working furnace in one corner. Numerous levers were
located around its walls, there purpose unknown, though my gut
instinct rumbled loudly once more, and I hazard a guess that they
probable controlled many of the Windmill’s hidden traps,
secret doorways and passages.
I recognised the room’s guardian from my planar studies;
an Azer Samuri, from the elemental plane of fire; this was not
a being even the six of us would wish to confront if it could
be avoided. A lawful creature, not an Evil one, I greeted him
with courtesy and respect, and he responded in kind. His word
was given that he wished us no harm, but would allow none to enter
this room, which was under his charge. He would not speak of how
he came to be here, except that his guardianship was to end within
a week, and then he would be returning to his own Plane. We would
be free to investigate the room’s secrets after his departure.
This piece of information set my mental alarm bells ringing;
a week’s delay was time we could not afford to waste if we
were to complete our mission and return to Sarbreenar in time.
I was certain some one or something had placed this creature here
to delay us. These thoughts lead me to reaffirm my initial idea
over the rooms propose. If I hadn’t been so utterly confident
in my parties matchless talents to bypass all future confining
traps and hidden deadly devices; or had some of my party been
already trapped, then we may well have had to confront the Samurai
to gain entry so we might but my theory about the levers purpose
to the test. As it was, fighting this creature would gain us nothing.
We would continue our search of the rest of the Windmill; should
that search prove fruitless, we would return to the room, and
peruse the matter differently.
The next level proved equally fruitless, though the magically
charged gaming room with its animated pictures had my mind racing
with possibilities for the future. All we really found were more
empty rooms and more traps, so we moved on, ever upwards.
We made are way through more levels, these housing many mechanical
wonders; astonishing mechanized marvels of life size of Birds
and animals; even a whole level of annoying singing bouncing gnomes.
These robotic gnomes seemed to maintain the many large turning
cogs and other moving mechanical devices housed in the upper levels.
But there was still no sign of the Princess. We continued are
seemingly endless assent of the Windmill.
Our passage for many levels now had been relatively easy, with
few, if any traps. I believe this may have gone very differently
if we had tried to harm or even remove any of the exquisitely
made mechanical creatures (each one would be worth a fortune in
gold) but our mission was to find the Princess, not to acquire
treasure. Needless to say, one member of the party, who will remain
nameless, protested loudly against this. Using my knowledge of
engineering, we had no difficulty in finding a safe passageway
through the endless series of rotating cogs; it was a simple matter
of mathematical timing which I was easily able to deduce.
After many hours of endless assent and fruitless searching we
found ourselves confronted by one more construct. This one however
was not of the cute and fuzzy kind. It was as big as a mammoth,
standing on razor sharp clawed feet; its arms were fitted with
all manner of twisted weaponry; it belched fire and its jaw was
filled with slashing teeth the size or broadswords…. This
thing had no intention of letting us past so we might continue
our search, and any form of negotiation was pointless. We had
no option. We attacked.
The fight was short but vicious. Jerome and Hamlin flanked the
creature and attack with their swords; Geroff and I gave them
what cover we could, loosing arrow after arrow into its metallic
hide; Serin cast a steady stream of destructive spells, in a imposing
display of magical might; and Zuke summoned wave after wave of
powerful ‘Nature’s Allies’ whom he directed with
lethal skill.
The creature fell, with a final devastating final blow from Jerome’s
sword which sliced the constructs armoured head from its body.
It crashed to the ground with a thunderous noise; its limbs still
flailing in spasm, refusing to believe it had been defeated. But
defeated it was, but not without first inflicting many near mortal
wounds upon us all.
Using nearly all of the healing spells we had left to us, we
cured our wounded and singed bodies, and once more continued our
search. We eventually reached the uppermost level of the Windmill.
Here another mathematical puzzle blocked our path. To progress
any further it would have to be solved to hopefully reveal the
next hidden passageway.
We had to divide the face of a clock with two straight lines,
so that all numbers in each section equalled the same amount.
I studied the puzzle and smiled, mumbling a quiet silent thank
you to my tyrannical mathematics tutors in the Academy of Suzail
in my home country of Cormyr. In my youth, I had been forced to
sit many boring hours in stifling classrooms, working over many
similar problems. The answer to me was child’s play, and
once I had moved the two bars provided to correctly divide the
clock face, a hidden doorway was revealed.
We now entered what was to be the last level of the Windmill,
and a day had elapsed whilst we had searched this gigantic structure.
If we did not find the princess on this last level, we would have
to retrace our steps, and spend hours once more searching every
level again for hidden rooms and passageways we may have missed;
time we could ill afford to lose. It was beginning to look that
I had made the wrong decision of not confronting The Azer Samuri
in the furnace room, and discovering that room’s secrets.
But for now, and saying a silent prayer to Tymora, we pressed
on with our search.
The passageway led in to on opulent study, though one that had
obviously been abandoned for many years. Though it did not help
us in our search, we discovered some correspondence from the Court
of Cormyr that was most intriguing to me personally. I recognised
the seal of the Noble house attached to the letters; I had once
fought a duel with a younger son of that house over the honour
of a lady….. aarrrr… happy days. A small chest was found,
also containing Cormyr artefacts; the regalia of a high ranking
Noble, and a jewel encrusted dagger with the same family crest
as that of the letter. What these were doing here I was at a loss
to explain. On closer inspection, the coraspondence also appeared
to be over 20 years old (I and my old duelling opponent hadn’t
even have been born at this time). I kept all these items to study
at a later date. I may no longer be an active member in the Court
of King Azoun the Fifth, but a mystery that involved the Kings
court of my old home land was too intriguing to ignore. The least
I could do was forward on the correspondence to my Father in Cormyr,
and allow him the chance to investigate the matter himself.
The only problem with this was the chance he might track me down
as well. For over two years now I had been dodging his agents
as they had attempted to find me, and direct contact might give
him too much of an advantage. No, I would investigate this matter
my self, when time allowed.
Anyway, my rambling thoughts digress. Moving on from the study,
we passed through a hallway containing statues of the Gnomish
Gods. I stopped momentarily in front of one, because for some
unknown reason he looked familiar too me; but why I should think
so I had no idea. Just one more mystery to add to the others in
this place.
The Hallway leads us into a large room, containing various pieces
of furniture in varying states of disrepair. As we entered the
room we were confronted with two gnomes. One was held in chains
on the floor, radiating evil malice that was so tangible, you
could almost see it in the air; the other, if our descriptions
of those gnomes kidnapped were to be believed, resembled the missing
elder son of the High Haspur Lord, Snorem-Niggleson. When questioned
about their identity and how they came to be here, Lord Snorem’s
son’s answers just don’t ring true. Something about
the situation had my guts rumbling once more. Serin also whispered
in my ear, that she sensed a strong aura of illusion and misdirection
around the two gnomes. But before I could investigate the matter
further, Jerome without warning, attempted to grapple and restrain
Lord Snorem’s son, crying, "Deceiver… beware the
evil lies of falsehood." If I didn’t know the Honest
Watchman better, I would have begun to believe he was beginning
to have delusions of Paladinhood.
The moment Jerome attacked, the truth was revealed. The evil
facade of the gnome in chains was replaced with the cowering figure
of the real elder son of Lord Snorem, and the gnome Jerome attacked
vanished, amidst gales of maniacal laughter. Releasing Snorem’s
son, we questioned him about the identity of the vanishing gnome,
but he seemed dazed by the whole experience, and the last thing
he could remember, was being attack on the High Haspur road by
insect-like creature, and could remember no more. So, Lord Snorem’s
dazed son in-tow, and weary of the reappearance of the menacing
gnome mage, we ready ourselves as best we could against surprise
magical attacks, and we moved on.
The next room was a filled with old storage crates; but what
was most unexpected was the presence of the deranged human mercenary,
‘Harpic’. The Rangers last encounter with this unbalanced
character, had revolved around the Diamond mine fiasco I have
already mentioned in this report which had so incensed High Lord
Morninglight against the city of Sarbreenar. . (I heard the rattle
of dice in my head, and felt another piece of the puzzle falling
in to place before me, but try as I might, I still couldn’t
piece them all together.)
Harpic was sitting on one of the crates, eating some sort of
gruel. He seemed completely oblivious of our presence, mumbling
over and over to himself, "I had to do it… it was for
her own good… all Fleetwood’s fault anyway…. Always
his fault…. Had to let them kill a few gnomes to get him
to come here…. It was for her own good… safe she is…
does love me… Fleetwood set her against me he did… here
now, safe she is…." On and on he rambled.
The references to ‘She’ held my interest however, and
along with his other ramblings, began to lead us to believe that
this mad-man looked to have had a direct hand in kidnapping the
princess, and the other missing gnomes, even if it was only to
turn a blind eye as he watch the foul Lobster creature carry out
their grizzly work.
Harpic rambled on and I continued to listen to his mad mutterings
trying to make sense of them, as the others search the very last
room on this the Windmills top floor.
Soon I heard cries of excitement and jubilation coming from my
companions in the next room, and Geroff stuck his head around
the door to tell me they had found the princess. After giving
me the news, his jubilant and cheeky grin was so infectious I
even forgot to keep a hand on my money pouch as I dashed past
him to see for my self….
I entered the room just in time to see Jerome attacking a large
four poster bed with his mighty Adamantine Two Handed sword, upon
which lay the sleeping form of Princess Syrina. Things really
started to go down hill form there.
Before I could ask what the hell he was doing, I was sent flying
to the metal floor, bowled over by Harpic, as he came bounding
into the bedroom shouting, "NO! YOU SHALL NOT HAVE HER, SHE IS
MINE, SHE LOVES ME…SHE IS MINE."
I manage to recover my senses quickly, looking up to see Harpic
attacking the rest of my party, with no regard to his own safety.
His unexpected attack, caught my friends and me, momentarily off
guard, and he had actually managed to inflict some minor wounds
with the menacing looking long sword he was wielding. But once
the element of surprise was over, he was quickly subdued, and
disarmed.
When I had last encountered Harpic, I had been with my fellow
Elvenblood Ranger, the Paladin William Brown. He had show great
concern over the prevailing sense of evil and madness which had
been emanating from the Mercenary’s sword, and he feared
it was slowly and surely taking possession of Harpic’s mind.
Zuke and Geroff had also been with me at this time, but Harpic
vanished without a trace before we had been able to investigate
the matter further. So when we had finally subdued Harpic and
wrestled his sword free from his grasp, the three of us would
allow none to touch it.
It had been Hamlin however who had freed Harpic’s hold on
the sword and in doing so had briefly handled the weapon. He began
to protest loudly that we, the Rangers of the Elvenblood River,
just wanted the sword for ourselves, and he wasn’t going
to let us have it. He wanted it… it was his!
He made a move towards the sword which had been flung to a corner
of the room, and as he did so it levitated before are eyes, and
slowly moved towards Hamlin’s outstretched hand. I and my
fellow Rangers shouted our warnings once more, but he ignored
us completely. He was clearly enchanted by the weapon.
We were faced with a dilemma that we had only moments to resolve.
Should Hamlin grasp the sword and be possessed by its evil powers,
we would be faced by a much direr opponent than the fallen Harpic.
We could not allow this to happen. We gave him a final warning
too stop, but he ignored us once again. His hand grasped the hilt
of the floating sword…
We had no choice…., we drew weapons, and attempted to subdue
Hamlin before he could wield the sword against us. The fight was
brutal. Hamlin ferociousness was nearly overwhelming, and he simple
ignored all our subdual attacks, until in the end, we were forced
into a bloody all-out attack to save our own lives. A single arrow
from Geoff’s powerfully enchanted bow, final felled the possessed
bard, and the sword was kicked from his dying grasp. During this
heart-wrenching combat, we were assailed on all sides by a continuous
stream of abuse and manic laughter from the remerged figure of
the deranged gnome mage. It was soon clear that the gnome was
but a projection, as our weapons and arrows sliced through his
insubstantial form, much to our frustration and his glee.
For a moment I feared the possessed longsword had enchanted another
of my companions as Jerome marched across the floor to where the
black long sword lay. My shout of warning to the others was unneeded
however, as Jerome raised his might Adamantine sword, and cleaved
the evil weapon asunder. A small spiralling plume of smoke was
released from the broken blade, and a rancid stench momentarily
filled the air. The malevolent weapon was destroyed.
"BOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" shouted the mad gnome, and even knowing the
gesture was worthless, I loosed another arrow right between his
eyes. This only made him cackle even more, and we simple tried
to ignore his antics as best we could; the only danger he seemed
to be to us for now, was his increasing level of maniac laughter,
which was real, REALLY! grating on our already overstrained nerves.
Zuke was kneeling over Hamlin, stabilizing his bleeding, and
using the last of his healing spells to cure his wounds. I confronted
Jerome in a most unseemly display of bad temper, "What the ****ing
hell were you bloody doing your deranged idiot attacking the Princesses
bed like that, you could have lost your balance and cut her ****ing
head off!"
Jerome, much to his credit didn’t bat an eyelid at my angry
words, he did however answer my outburst by swinging his great
sword with all his might directly at the sleeping Princesses head.
To me it all appeared to happen in slow motion; so shock by his
action I was unable to move; a single scream of "NOOOOOO!!!!"
escaping my lips. Jerome’s powerful blow came to a shuddering
halt upon the Princesses head, like a hammer striking an anvil.
Jerome turns to me saying, "I would greatly appreciate it
Mr Nomis if you didn’t call me a deranged idiot. As you can
see she was in no danger from my attack."
Realising it was I who was an idiot for my brash outburst, I
give Jerome a sheepish smile, "Sorry old boy, please forgive
my outburst; that" and I jerked my thumb in the direction
of the still taunting and laughing Gnome, "has got me a little
on edge. I was just taken by surprise don’t you know."
Jerome gives me a slight nod of his head as he accepts my apology,
whilst Serin tells me what she has deduced about the magical enchantment
enveloping the Princess. Not only the Princess but the whole bed
appears to be in some sort of magical field, which has frozen
them in time. Jerome had been trying to break it when I had first
entered the room, but all attempts to dispel it or even move the
Princess had been thwarted.
As another seemingly insurmountable problem barred our way to
successfully completing our mission, I noticed Lord Snorem’s
son gazing adoringly at the sleeping Princess. He seemed to have
recovered his senses, but was crying in utter despair at the sight
of the sleeping form of the Princess trapped in time. Between
sobs he wailed, "My Love, my true love, what has happened
to you." He turns to us all, imploring us for help, "You
must help me release her. We were eloping to be married….
Please, please you must set her free…."
Tears streaming down his face, he stumbles to her side falling
to his knees, and bowing his head in despair. "It is all
my fault; I should never have made you run away with me. You called
me your Prince charming, your knight protector…., but look
how well I have protected you… I have failed you my love."
Once more the despairing gnome cries out in anguish, "Princess
ohh my beautiful Princess…, what have I done."
As tears of my own began to well in my eyes, I turned to face
the manically cackling Gnome, who was mimicking the Lords son
for his own warped amusement, "Booo whooo, booo whooo; who’s
a little cry a baby, booo whooo, booo whooo."
"You did this! It has been you all along truing to stop
us at every turn. Tell me how to release the sleeping Princess…"
even as I utter my angry demands at the cackling gnome, an idea
so ridiculous it just had to be right, comes to me.
I begin muttering to myself, "Sleeping Princess… a
beautiful Princess…sleeping beauty…; Prince charming…
true love….. THAT’S IT!" I cry.
I look around at my companions, noticing their worried looks
as to my own mental stability. "No… don’t you see, it’s
just like the old fairy tail…. ‘Sleeping beauty’…
she will be awakened by a kiss from Prince charming don’t
you know."
"You" I shout, pointing my finger at the weeping gnome
at the Princesses bed side, "Stop you’re wailing and
give her a kiss."
He looks at me with bleary eyes, stuttering, "Whhaaatt??"
I practically scream at him once more, "I said kiss her
you damn fool…., it is how the spell is broken."
I know I am right in my crazy idea, for when the young gnome
leans over the sleeping Princess and kisses her on the lips, this
time it is the cackling and taunting gnome who screams in protest,
"NOOOOOO!!" and vanishes from sight.
I watch with a smug smile on my face as the sleeping beauty is
awoken from her slumber, "Well I say how absolutely spiffing…
it actually worked!"
WE DID IT! We had found the Princess; now all we had to do was
get her and the rest of the rescued gnomes back to High Haspur.
This in itself was not going to be easy, and as we all may the
long and winding journey back to the ground floor of the Windmill,
we discussed ways of doing this safely. As luck would have it,
Geroff said he had found a magic item in one the many rooms we
had search in this gigantic structure. He believed it was some
sought of message device, which might enable us to contact someone
in High Haspur to send help to safely escort the gnomes back to
the City.
Giving the halfling a very exasperated look and saying, "Just
happened to forget to tell the rest of us did you old boy? Well
never mind my brother, I’m sure during our long decent you’ll
remember to tell us all about any other items of interest you
might have found and forgot to mention don’t you know."
We handed the item over to Serin for examination, to see if Geroff
initial judgment about the uses of the device was correct. She
confirmed that it was. The magic item was a ‘Mobile Bone’,
a magical device made by the Priests of Gond. It would allow us
to cast the spell ‘Sending’ which would hopefully allow
us to make direct contact with Lord Cliffjapper, and ask him to
send help and transport for the rescued Gnomes.
Fingers crossed we sent our message;
Kidnapped Gnomes, including Princess
Syrina and Lord Snorem’s son found and rescued at Clockwork
Windmill. Kidnappers eliminated. Send wagons and guards immediately.
Though Lord Cliffjapper sounded a little startled, we knew it
had worked, as he replied immediately, saying
Wagons and Guards, will be dispatched
immediately. Estimate arrival 24 hours. Well done. All of High
Haspur gives its grateful thanks.
24 hours… another delay, but it would probable take us at
least 6 hours to make it back down the Windmill, and by then it
would be close to midnight, too late in the day to start the return
journey anyway. A good night’s rest would be very welcome
indeed. We would just have to wait out the following morning and
early afternoon until help arrived.
We couldn’t safely transport all the gnomes ourselves, and
now that we had rescued them, we couldn’t leave them behind
in case other hidden dangers emerged. Once guards and wagons arrived,
we could make a faster return journey on our own, taking Princess
Syrina and Lord Snorem’s son with us. If we rode through
the night we could be in High Haspur by morning; introduce the
irresistible Princess to the Nackle Lords and hopefully see them
swoon at her feet; get their signatures in the Tome of Rulership,
and install the very grateful Lord Cliffjapper as the New Ruler
of High Haspur. If Lord Cliffjapper kept to his word, we could
be on our way back to Sarbreenar the same day, with the promised
reinforcements. This would leave us the necessary two days for
the return journey to Sarbreenar, and we would still make it back
to Sarbreenar within the two weeks that had been allowed for the
mission…. just! We just had to hope everything would go as
planned; any delay could spell disaster to the final phase of
the mission, and the City of Sarbreenar itself.
We made it back to the ground floor without incident. I was momentarily
tempted with the idea of gaining entry into the furnace room that
was guarded by the Azer Samuri, but I managed to curb my curiosity
after weighing the possible cost against the unknown importance
of whatever secrets we might find. I positively hated leaving
the second trap room I knew was behind one face of that level’s
walls, without even a quick glance inside; but the successful
completion of our mission was the only thing that mattered at
this moment. Further exploration of this building’s secrets
could wait for another time; It certainly wasn’t going anywhere.
Maybe next time I could bring my two fellow Rangers Rabbit and
Greentop along. Greeny had been a trifle peeved with me for sneaking
off alone to scout the Zents around Port Soy; he would be positively
fuming if I left him out on a return jaunt to this metal megalith.
As for Rabbit, a gnome of his talents would prove very useful
in unearthing secrets we might have missed. I patted the metal
wall that I was sure block an unexplored room, whispering, "I’ll
be back old boy, you can bet you last rusty panel on that."
Once we made the ground floor, we checked on the gnomes in the
locked storage room. They were still in a comatose condition,
but according to Zuke and Hamlin still in no real danger.
Now Hamlin had been very quiet in our journey down from the upper
levels of the Windmill. I think he felt he had let the rest of
us down when he had become charmed by the possessed long sword
of Harpic. We told him it was not his fault. It could have happened
to anyone of us had we touched the weapon first. But I still think
are words did little to resolve the guilt he felt.
By all the Gods and Goddesses of Heaven and Hell, his one forced
action against us was nothing compared to the deadly dangers I
placed my friends and fellow Rangers in when I found myself under
the influence of a Possessed Daemon Crown. It was only the selfless
bravery of my brother Rangers that saved me from the path of madness
and evil. But I new how he felt; I had no doubt that he was a
man (well half-orc now) of great courage and wisdom, and in time
the hurtful experience would make him a better person, even strengthen
his resolve to succeed in combating all things evil. I know that
this is what happened to me after my brush with its foul touch.
I was not so sure the same would be true of Harpic. But there
would be better-qualified people in High Haspur who would be able
to deduce the true extent of his guilt.
We slept safely within the Windmill that night, and during the
morning began to revive the gnomes. All were confused and scared,
but were eventually reassured that their ordeal was over, and
that help from High Haspur was on the way. By late morning, we
decided to leave the Windmill, and wait for the rescue party in
the surrounding valley .
As we passed once more through the building’s large double
doors, we were ambushed on all side by Zent soldiers. They must
have followed us from High Haspur, waiting to see if we succeeded
in our mission. Looking back upon the fight, I almost feel sorry
for them… well may be not. They didn’t stand a chance;
after failing to hit anyone with their first surprise attacks,
they were met with such an overwhelming onslaught of fearless
aggression on our part that the fight was practically over in
moments. There was simple no way that we were going to be thwarted
with successfully completing our mission, when we were so close.
When the Zents finally lay in various pieces around the Windmills
entrance, I slapped Jerome on the shoulder, "You see old
boy, wasn’t it worth the wait. You even saved the poor taxpayer
of Sarbreenar the expense of a trial don’t you know."
In due time, and ahead of schedule, the wagons and Guards from
High Haspur arrived, and we left the gnomes and Harpic in their
capable hands. We made all hast back to High Haspur, along with
Lord Snorem’s Son and the Princess Syrina.
We rode through the night, stopping only to rest the horses.
We arrived back at High Haspur in the early hours of the morning;
and with the sun rising to greet our triumphant return, we headed
straight to Lord Cliffjapper’s residence. Word of our arrival
had already reached his Lordship, and we found a large assembly
of High ranking Noble ready to greet us in his audience hall.
The only significant absence of note was Lord Franklin Morninglight.
This did not overly concern me, for as soon as we made are triumphant
entrance into the Grand Hall, the Nackle Lords who had been cheering
with the rest of the Nobility were suddenly struck dumb at the
sight of Princess Syrina. They were clearly enraptured by her
beauty and grace.
Giving Geroff a nudge, he moved away from the rest of the party,
Ancient Tome and ink pen in hand; before the Nackle Lords could
regain full control of their senses, he had their signature signed
sealed and delivered in the Tome of Ruler-ship.
Bloody marvellous don’t you know.
The rest of the party and I were exchanging pleasantries with
the various nobility, when Geroff returned to my side, handing
me the Tome. I, in turn, handed the Ancient book to Lord Cliffjapper,
saying, "For you my Lord; may your stewardship of this great
city bring High Haspur wealth and security; and may this auspicious
moment be the beginning of renewing old ties of friendship and
allegiance between our two cities." We all give the new ruler
of High Haspur a deep bow.
Some of the other nobles follow our example, though others seemed
a little bemused as to what had just transpired. As the true import
of what has happened dawns on all the assembled nobility, cheers
of congratulations ring out from most in the vaulted hall; the
few cries of protest from the vastly outnumbered members of the
noble house of Morninglight are drowned in the shouts of praise
for the New High Lord of High Haspur.
The new High Lord Cliffjapper holds the book reverently, a triumphant
smile upon his face, and motions for silence. He addresses those
gathered around him, "I accept the Stewardship of our great
city, vowing to protect her from all danger, and promise to bring
a new golden age of prosperity to all. Let it also be decreed,
that the city of Sarbreenar is now counted as our most loyal friend
and ally once more. As such, troops will be dispatched this very
day to aid our old ally in their fight against the evil forces
of the Zhentarim Empire. For as these noble citizens of Sarbreenar
before us now have show their courage and noble spirit in rescuing
our own people, so shall we aid theirs, to drive the fowl tendrils
of the Zhentarim Empire from these lands."
Grinning from ear to ear, the occasion gets the better of me,
and my courtly etiquette is momentarily forgotten, "I say
old boy that’s jolly decent of you, don’t you know."
But the new High Lord is not offended by my little out burst of
relief. He simply laughs, slapping me on the back.
As we are surrounded by well wishers, another gnome of importance
adds his greetings and thanks; the Cleric Rusty Double Hammer.
"Well Count Nomis, let me also give my thanks and reward
for rescuing my daughter. As I said, my church would also send
aid to your city should you succeed, and I always keep my word."
Still high on the successful completion of our mission, my reply
is once more glib and lighthearted. "Why Rusty old boy, what
an absolutely spiffing chap you are…." I stumble to
a halt in my reply, a little bemused at the Clerics last words.
"Wait a minuet old boy, did you just say daughter?"
I look across at the Princess Syrina, who is almost completely
surrounded by all the young Gnome nobles in the hall, much to
the annoyance of Lord Snorem’s son. "I thought you said
she was the daughter of the Gnome King of the Dragon coast."
A knowing smile spreads across my face, and I give the ‘Cleric’
a little wink, "I thought there was something about you that
didn’t quiet ring true. Here in disguise are we you Majesty."
Believing I’ve solved the nagging suspicions which had been
annoying me about the redoubtable Cleric, I give him a little
mischievous wink, "Well you worshipfulness, mums the word
and all that, old boy, your secret is safe with me don’t
you know. But please, less of the ‘Count Nomis’ your
Magnificence, I left the court of Cormyr nearly three years ago.
I make my own way in the world now, and have no need of inherited
titles to bolster my own self worth. Anyway, that title rightly
belongs to my father, Ator don’t you know."
The Clerics response is at first some what grave and foreboding,
"You have renewed old ties between High Haspur and Sarbreenar
Count Nomis; it is time for you to renew old ties with your estranged
family I think." Rusty also looks across at the Princess
Syrina, "Our children often make decisions and do things
of which we as parents do not always approve, and harsh words
are sometimes spoken in the heat of the moment. But there is no
greater Love than the Love a parent has for his child. In the
end we must all come to terms that they must make there own choices
in life. I advise you to renew ties with your father whilst you
still can. This I tell you out of thanks for rescuing my daughter."
Unnerved by the Clerics tone and insinuated meaning I ask, "How
do you know this your Majesty?"
It is Rusty’s turn to give a knowing smile and a wink, "You
would be surprised ‘Old Boy’ at the extent of what I
know." And so saying a miraculous transformation takes place before
my eyes. Though the already impressive Gnome does not significantly
increase in actual physical stature, his overwhelming presence
and true glory is reviled.
One moment I was patting myself on the back thinking I had discovered
the true identity of Rusty Double Hammer, the next, I find I have
been making glib small talk with a God. For what seems like an
eternity, I stand entrances in his Charismatic aura. As I slowly
regain my senses, the image of a statue from the Hallway of Gods
in the Clockwork Windmill penetrates my addled mind, and I recognise
the divinity amongst us….
For once truly at a loss for words, I can only utter, "Gaerdal
Ironhand"
The hall that had moments before been a hive of noise and celebration,
was now reverently silent. Those gnomes that had not fainted with
the shock of finding themselves in the very presence of one of
their gods, were kneeling in homage to their Divinity.
There were two exceptions to this however; one was the absolutely
terrified son of Lord Snorem-Niggleson; the other was the beautiful
Princess Syrina, who was trying with little success to calm her
quaking fiancée.
The Stern countenance of the gnome God of War breaks into a smile
at the sight, and if my senses had not totally failed me, I am
certain his next words he directs to his future son-in-law, are
uttered in a most playful manner, "I think my daughter might have
forgotten to mention a few things to you my son."
It is too much for the poor gnome; he faints dead away into the
arms of the Princess.
Gaerdal Ironhand now turns his attention towards the new High
Lord Cliffjapper, "Know you have my approval for your actions
this day. I too shall keep my word and will give what support
I can to the city of Sarbreenar for the rescue of my daughter.
The commandments governing the involvement between the issues
of mortals, forbids direct intervention by any Deity; but I believe
it is within the rules to lend you my pet Badger to aid you in
your fight, as a just and worthy reward for your services. Make
good use of his talents while you many, for his time with you
will be limited."
We all manage to stammer our thanks for his most gracious offer,
though I and I’m sure the rest of my party were wondering
how useful a pet Badger would be against the besieging army of
the Zhentarim Empire.
Gaerdal Ironhand just smiles as if he has read
our minds, then extends his hand to his daughter. Syrina floats
with grace and serenity to her father’s side, even with the
unconscious form of Lord Snorem’s son carried over her shoulder.
"Time to go my dear." He gives a distinct look of disapproval
towards the comatose gnome, but then sighing his resignation,
all three vanish before our eyes, to the resounding rumble of
Thunder.
The Hall is left in stunned deathly silence, until moments later
shouts of alarm can be heard from those outside the Great Hall.
Jolted back into reality by the noise, we quickly make our way
to the windows to see what has gotten those outside so alarmed.
What we see is so mind-boggling, I actually have to pinch myself
to check I’m not hallucinating.
A Badger well over six stories tall is lying on the parade ground
outside High Lord Cliffjappers fortress-mansion. Using claws the
size of portcullises, he appears to be calmly grooming his black
and white stripped fur. I come to the revised conclusion that
perhaps a god’s pet might be of some assistance to us after
all.
I manage to utter what has got to be one of my greatest understatements
of all time as I turn to Zuke for a little clarification, "By
jove; it’s only a guess Zuke old boy but wouldn’t you
say he a little bigger than most other his kind?." I smile sweetly
in his direction, "Good job you have such a winning way with animals
don’t you know. I and the rest of the party I’m sure,
have complete faith in your ability to control our new furry ally.
Best you go and speak to him right away old boy before he gets
a little playful. We’ll just wait to hear froyou; wouldn’t
want to get in your way and all that."
Zuke, not realising I’m making a joke, replies in his normal
nonchalant manner, "Right you are Thar," and before we can stop
him, he jumps through the window and races across the parade ground
to the towering Badges side.
Uttering a loud oath of "Ohh Shit!" I shout to the others to
follow, and jumping through the window myself, make a much more
cautious crossing of the parade ground to my brother’s side.
When I reach him, the Druid appears to be chatting quiet good-naturedly
with the gigantic creature.
Standing around nervously in the colossal Badges shadow, Zuke
finishes his in-depth questioning of our new ally. He informs
us the Badges name is Donavan, and that he is fully aware of the
duty he is here to perform. Though only Zuke appears to understand
him, the Druid tells us Donavan is extremely intelligent and can
easily understand whatever we say. He will also obey are orders
to the fullness of his ability; though Zuke advises us here, that
it might be best if we framed our commands more in a requesting
manner, than in an authoritarian one. Looking up as Donavan scratches
behind his ear with his giant clawed paw, and yawns revealing
a maw full of teeth the size of halberds (shafts and all) which
could swallow a Dragon whole, I couldn’t have agreed more
with my fellow Rangers advice. "Right you are Zuke old boy, whatever
you say don’t you know."
And so our mission to find reinforcements for the besieged city
of Sarbreenar had succeeded far beyond our wildest expectation.
The rest of this auspicious morning is spent mustering gnome troops
and supplies. The new High Lord Cliffjapper gave us 200 of his
best gnome infantry, 40 light cavalry and 12 siege Multi Crossbows
with two engineers apiece. Lord Snorem-Niggleson, still bewildered
and in awe at the thought he might soon have a god as an in-law,
adds 20 gnome Mages to our force. At Donavan’s suggestion,
a miniature wooden fort is constructed and strapped to his back,
with 4 of the Multi-Crossbows placed on its battlements.
We leave the City of High Haspur amidst cheers from the cities
populous, and I along with my fellow party members begin are return
journey to Sarbreenar in grand and stately style; riding in comfort
in a well armoured fort; resting upon the back of a giant celestial
Badger called Donovan; the fond pet of the gnome God of War, Gaerdal
Ironhand the Stern, Shield of the Golden Hills.
I grin to myself, thinking about the reaction we will receive
upon our return. I suppose it has been said that I like to make
a bit of a theatrical entrance from time to time, but that’s
just my instinctive Bardic persona performing for those around
me; but I think even I will be hard pressed to ever upstage this
one.
I am rocked to sleep by the gentle swaying of the fort as Donavan
begins the trek back to Sarbreenar. Exhausted by the all night
ride to High Haspur, and the miraculous revelations and other
experience I have had to endure over the past two weeks, I dream
of the next act to come.
Chuckling to myself as sleep final takes me, I wonder if it might
be possible for the Fates to inject a little more excitement into
my next adventure. These bland and straightforward missions just
don’t seem to hold my interest any more don’t you know
Thar
Nomis, Ranger of the Elvenblood River, Herald to
the Temple of Tymora, and Dashing Young Bard about Town.
