A Picnic in the Park, A Temple's Beauty Mark, Theryn in the Dark

Erwen was sitting in a tree in the Hero’s Garden in the guise of a child, absently puffing on his pipe disguised as a lollipop, watching the clouds scud slowly across the blue sky above Waterdeep. He drifted off to sleep, happy to be amid some green space. Something sharp hit him in the shoulder. Erwen’s eyes snapped open. He looked down at the ground below him. Standing next to the trunk of the tree were two children, twins by the look of them, a boy and a girl dressed in fashionable frippery that spoke of wealth unearned. The girl’s blonde hair was styled in ringlets and tied in a long ponytail, while the boy’s hair was bowl-cut and unruly. The boy was clutching a handful of tin soldiers, and the girl had grabbed one out of his hands and was winding up to throw it at Erwen like a professional bowler. “Ow!” Erwen said, annoyed. “What was that for?” “Hey!” the girl called up to him. “You wanna play?” “Not interested, dudes,” Erwen said. “Are you sure?” The girl cocked her head to one side. “We have all the best toys!” Erwen used alter self to turn his face into that of a creepy, wizened old man. “Beat it, kids!” he growled. At this, the girl burst into a peal of laughter and clapped her hands. “You’re funny!” Erwen sighed. “Come on, come play with us! We hardly ever get to come to the park. You’re ruining our day!” The girl pouted. “Where are your parents?” Erwen asked. The boy was looking at the ground shyly but cast a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, they’re just setting up a picnic,” the girl said. “All right, I’ll come with you as long as I can be a cat,” Erwen sighed. “Oh! That sounds like fun!” the girl said, eyes wide. Erwen wildshaped into an orange tabby cat. “I love it!” The girl said, clapping her hands. Purrwen dropped to the ground and did a furry figure-eight around the girl’s ankles, and then hopped up onto her shoulder. “This is so much fun!” the girl said, scratching Purrwen behind the ears. “We’re so lucky that we got out of the house today, aren’t we, Terenzio?” Terenzio kicked at a stone on the ground, not meeting his sister’s eyes. “Yeah, okay I guess.” Suddenly a matronly voice called from afar. “Elzerina! Terenzio! Come here please!” “Oh! That’s mom!” Elzerina said. Purrwen pointed a paw in the direction of the sound. The children scampered towards their mother. Purrwen’s eyes widened as he took in the “picnic” that Elzerina had been referring to. It was in fact a full-on pavilion, with several conjoined high-peaked tents erected on a grassy knoll in a picturesque section of the park’s grounds. A veritable army of servants were marching about with purpose, pounding tent pegs into the earth and setting out a service of fine china on a long table beneath the central tent, which was already laden with platters of tasty-smelling hors d’oeuvres and crudités. At the head of the table were two of the finest-dressed humans Purrwen had ever seen, a middle-aged man and woman of noble birth. Purrwen licked his chops as he saw all the food set out on the table. He’d heard stories of druids who had turned themselves into housepets and never bothered to revert back to their natural form after getting used to being waited on paw and paw, and began to understand the logic. “Mummy! Mummy! Look!” Elzerina called to her mother as she ran towards the table. “Look what I found in a tree! It’s a cute little kitten!” She winked at Purrwen. Purrwen meowed and gave his very best slow-blink. “That’s nice, Elzerina. Remember, don’t run too far from sight now, you know how special you are to dear papa and I,” Elzerina’s mother said, her heavily-starched collar preventing her from looking down at her daughter. “Yes, mother,” Elzerina said. “Can we keep the kitten?” Elzerina’s father was reading a broadsheet, a number of scrolls piled on his plate in lieu of food. “Now Ellie, you know what happened the last time you wanted a pet,” he said absently as he perused the newspaper. “But this time I won’t forget to feed him, papa,” Elzerina said earnestly. Purrwen gulped. Terenzio sat down next to Elzerina and quietly tried to tug on Purrwen’s tail without being seen. “Terry, stop that!” Elzerina snapped. “Be good or else we won’t be able to keep this kitty. Mom, do we have any salmon?” She turned to Purrwen. “Are you a seafood cat or a chicken cat?” Purrwen licked his chops. “Oh, you’ll eat anything, won’t you?” Elzerina said with a wide smile. She gasped. “Oh! And I get to name you too? Smashing! Terenzio, go steal some food!” Terenzio obediently slunk away, intent on gathering food surreptitiously. Purrwen looked around. He remembered family outings with his wolfpack, and even wolves knew how to have fun now and then, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the least fun family picnic he’d ever seen – these wealthy day-trippers had apparently brought their entire dining room set and kitchen with them and arranged it atop a thick carpet laid over the grass. Neither of the twins’ parents seemed the least bit interested in the environment around them, and the servants milling about were doing little save for inadvertently flattening some fine flowers while they waited on the family. Purrwen noticed other people in the park, and those strolling the grounds seemed to be giving the family picnic a wide berth. However, there were sunbathers, other picnickers on smaller blankets, a young couple flirtatiously giggling, and folks walking their dogs, but Purrwen got a sense that everyone within a hundred feet was in fact an undercover guard or sentry. Purrwen could smell the wealth. Elzerina was hand-feeding Purrwen morsels of chicken a piece at a time. She leaned down and whispered into his ears. “I’m going to take such good care of you, kitty. I’m going to take you home and introduce you to all my friends.” She frowned. “Well, they’re my toys, but they are my friends.” She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially. “You can keep a secret, can’t you kitty?” Purrwen nodded and nibbled on another piece of chicken. “You know, sometimes I can make my toys talk and move around,” Elzerina whispered. “It’s ever so much fun. I keep them in my toybox back at the villa. I think you’re going to like them.” She giggled. Purrwen gulped and then bolted, scampering down the length of the table, knocking platters and goblets of wine aside, his tail bottled in fear. “Kitty, no!” Elzerina screeched. “Come back!” She burst into tears. Her father sighed. “You see, Ellie? I told you that you and pets just don’t get along.” “Oh, stop it, Victoro,” the mother said. “You’ll only encourage their antics.” Victoro grunted from behind his broadsheet. “You’re the one who wanted to come out here.” Purrwen ran to the south at top speed, the sound of Elzerina’s tantrum fading behind him. Toys that walk and talk are just unnatural , he thought to himself. As he ran, he felt a prick on his flank and batted it off with his paw. It was the tin soldier that Elzerina had thrown at him earlier. It landed on the ground feet-first and seemed to look the druid straight in the eye. Suddenly, it gave a cheeky salute and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Purrwen yowled in surprise. I’m never altering myself into a child again, he thought to himself. In fact, I’m going to throw my child clothes out after this. He pondered things for a moment and then bolted out of the wrought-iron gate of the Hero’s Garden, rushing across the street, dodging wagon wheels and horse hooves, and then shimmied up the first drainpipe of the first building that faced the park. Spooked but intrigued, Purrwen lay down in the eaves and settled in to observe from a distance, tucking in his paws like a furry loaf. His tail twitched reflexively as he kept a cat’s eye on the far-off shape of the pavilion.   At the temple of beauty, Varien and Bob enjoyed the ministrations of the acolytes as they were pampered and primped. Bob’s attendants were very curious about his handsome bronze scales. Their armour and clothing were cleaned, buffed and pressed. After an appropriate amount of time in the baths, they emerged. Iseriasha, her face flushed from the heat of the bath and the passions therein, smiled brilliantly at them and said, “It’s well past time that we visited the High Priestess.” “Right,” Varien said. Iseriasha led the pair to the private audience chamber of High Lady Ssaeral Shadowstar. The Temple of Beauty continued to live up to its name as they traveled through it, its walls covered in frescoes, bas-relief carvings, and every door framed in stained-glass apertures. It was more stunning that the Crystal Cathedral in Neverwinter, and larger too. High Lady Ssaeral was devastatingly beautiful, her red hair shaped and styled in the fashion of the Lady Firehair. Her revealing vestments were in keeping with the colours and fabric of Sune’s followers – dark red, wine and burgundy. Varien reflected that the High Lady’s physical features and personal beauty were more than enough to propel her through the ranks of the clergy. The High Lady was reclining on an oversized ornate daybed suspended between two seraph statues. Behind her rose a two-storey statue of the Lady Firehair. Varien looked at the statue and back at the High Lady and realized that it was obvious that High Lady Ssaeral had sat as the life model for this particular statue of Sune – her proportions and figure were identical to the statue she was posed in front of. The attendants formed a rather alluring barrier behind them. “May I present to you the High Lady Ssaeral Shadowstar, Priestess of Sune of Waterdeep,” Iseriasha said in a formal tone. “High Lady Shadowstar, may I present to you two pilgrims of Sune recently arrived in Waterdeep from parts beyond who wish to share their knowledge and direct contact with the Lady Firehair with you.” Lady Ssaeral batted her lashes and said, “Please, honoured guests, approach. I see you have availed yourselves of our amenities. I hope that we have been hospitable and welcoming.” “Yes, it was very comforting,” Varien said. “Yes, I can imagine,” the High Lady said knowingly. “But all the same, welcome to the Temple of Beauty. Please, tell me of your business in Waterdeep.” “Thank you,” Varien said. “As mentioned to the High Exultant Iseriasha, we have recovered what we believe to be a holy relic, and we believe it needs to be brought back to its rightful place, which we believe to be here.” “A relic? This is all very stimulating. May I see it?” “Probably,” Varien said, looking the High Lady up and down. “It is in several pieces, but we have it in a frame, and I can present it to you now.” He and Bob pulled the stained-glass frame out of the bag of holding and held it between them. The crystal panes caught the light in the room and reflected it back in a golden glow through the glass. “Such fine detail!” High Lady Ssaeral’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of the resplendent crystal. She was taken aback by its obvious beauty. “Such an artifact and specimen truly belongs at the Temple of Beauty, wouldn’t you agree?” “What do you know about the Arcetalos?” Varien asked. ““Arcetalos? Arcetalos,”” the High Lady repeated, rolling the word around on her tongue. “Well, that is not really my area of expertise, but of course we welcome the followers of the Cult of the Phoenix into our midst as a tolerant denomination. I must call for an expert.” She turned to Iseriasha. “Iseriasha my dear, please summon…” Varien launched into the verse that Sune had given him. “And what is this poetry?” the High Lady asked, eyes wide. “Fact,” Varien said. “As I told you, High Lady, this pilgrim, Varien Aether claims that he has been visited by Sune, and has had a vision, and is reciting the Lady Firehair’s words.” “Oh really?” High Lady Ssaeral replied. “Please, give me the message that you received from the Lady Firehair.” “This is the truth,” Varien said, and continued. Travel the length of the Twilit Land; Where the peaks cut deepest take your stand. Against the ghosts of the Broken Bone; Crystal panes your keys to own.   The Burning Dawn holds sacred fire; Dread’s darkness drowns flames of desire. Where the Obsidian Circle leaves its mark; Vashi claims her holy spark.   Arcetalos locked in a crystal prison; In Beauty’s Temple a rot arisen. For the phoenix’s flame you now must fight; Cleanse the darkness with my holy light.   High Lady Ssaeral fanned herself after Varien finished his recitation. “Oh my,” she said. “I’ve been following Sune’s words since I was a boy,” Varien said, “and I believe that Sune has brought me here for this purpose.” High Lady Ssaeral was duly impressed by Varien’s oratory. “That is quite a speech, young brother. When did our Lady Firehair visit you?” “This most recent visitation happened at the Crystal Cathedral in Neverwinter,” Varien said. “Ah, yes,” High Lady Ssaeral’s eyes drifted over to Bob. She batted her long lashes at him. “And you, brother, can you corroborate this vision?” “I believe I can,” Bob said. “Well, we shall have to send a note to Rose-Tender Alicia,” the High Lady said, “with some flowers of course.” “Of course, milady,” Iseriasha said. “And Iseriasha, do fetch Dhaera Darklight,” the High Lady ordered. “She’s something of an authority on matters of the Phoenix.” “At once, milady,” Iseriasha said and quickly departed. “So, this relic that you are holding, you believe this to be the crystal panes mentioned in your visitation?” the High Lady asked. “My confidence is unwavering,” Varien said. After a few moments, a paladin of Sune was invited into the chamber. Iseriasha took her place at the High Lady’s side and said, “May I present Dhaera Darklight, Paladin of Sune, and member of the Cult of the Phoenix.” Dhaera said demurely, “I have answered the summons, High Lady.” She noticed the crystal panes and while her expression remained stoic, her eyes widened. “You summoned me, milady?” “Yes, Dhaera, you are something of an authority on the Phoenix, and this paladin Varien Aether and cleric Robert Trevelyan have discovered this relic that is Sunnite in origin but also bears the markings and the imagery of the Phoenix, and young Brother Aether here was asking about the Arcetalos.” “The Arcetalos, milady,” Dhaera said, gently correcting the High Lady’s pronunciation. The High Lady waved a hand. “Well, you are the expect after all.” Dhaera turned to Varien. “May I inspect the relic?” Varien nodded. “Exquisite design,” Dhaera said as she leaned in close, inspecting the crystal pane. “Where did you find this?” “At Mount Stonefang,” Varien said. “It was quite unnatural for it to be there, I think?” “Where? How?” Dhaera asked. “I’m sure it was not just sitting on the mountainside.” “It was beneath the mountain inside an orc stronghold.” “Orcs?” Dhaera said. At the word, the Sunnites recoiled. “Yes,” Varien said. “They were in the midst of crowning a new king, so of course with the help of Bob here and a few other friends we were able to put a stop to that, but we recovered this object and felt that it was right to bring it back here. Have you heard of such a thing?” Dhaera kept looking it over, unable to bring herself to touch the object. “This is a representation of the Arcetalos, the Aspect of Hyolyn, the Phoenix. Sacred guest of Sune. It is exceedingly rare to see this representation made physical. It’s so beautiful. As the legends say, the Arcetalos is the physical manifestation, the avatar of Hyolyn the Phoenix and her visitation upon this plane would be considered a great blessing and would herald the cleansing and purification of the earth, in new beauty. But the Arcetalos has not been seen in Faerun for generations.” “What do you know of Vashi?” Varien asked. “Vashi?” Dhaera replied. “Who is Vashi?” “I’ll take that as a no, then,” Varien said. “She’s one of the Sinister Seven of Nessus. Vashi is among their number. As per my revelation from Sune,” he gestured at his gauntlet, letting Dhaera read it. “I think Vashi has entrapped the Arcetalos.” “Oh my,” Dhaera said. “And this is the key to defeating Vashi and the rest of the Sinister Seven and setting the Phoenix free, or something along those lines.” “Fascinating,” Dhaera said. “This would certainly fit with the legends and lore of the followers of the Phoenix. Again, the unbridled power of the Arcetalos has been bound and perhaps you are right, perhaps this is the key to enabling her visitation upon the earth. And you say you found it in an orc dungeon? Very strange.” “Yes, it was quite the gruesome location,” Varien admitted. “Well, clearly we must spend some time in prayer and study,” Dhaera said. “If we are to learn the secrets of these crystal panes and their rightful place and use. “I see,” Varien said. “We must learn more,” Dhaera continued. “Yes, you have certainly given me much to think about, Brother Varien,” High Lady Ssaeral said. “I shall ponder the words of the Lady Firehair and try to glean more knowledge from it. Some of the words are quite cryptic and to be honest some of them are concerning.” “Concerning how?” Varien asked. “Well, the mention of a rot in Beauty’s Temple, I mean, really,” the High Lady said. “What specifically about that is concerning? The fact that it’s here, or the fact that you would hear me say it?” The High Lady looked a little flustered. “Certainly, you are of course the messenger so my concern is not with you, Brother Varien.” “Would you disregard the Lady Firehair’s words?” Varien said.

The High Lady’s expression changed slightly, though a serene smile remained on her face. She got up off the couch and stood before Varien. “Certainly not, Brother Aether. It is an assertion from Lady Firehair that I must ponder and brood upon more before understanding its true, deeper meaning.” “Well, what the goddess has spoken She has spoken, whether by her own voice or the voice of her servant,” Varien said. “It’s the same, and I don’t mean to pry the meaning, but I shall do my best to follow her.” Bob looked back and forth from Varien to Ssaeral, unsure of where this conversation was heading. Varien activated his divine sense . His senses were flooded with the impression of powerful good that rang like heavenly music in his ears. However, at the periphery of Sune’s glory, it was as though a sweet perfume had been poured over a rotting corpse. There was just a hint of corruption, and Varien was unsure if it was emanating from a person or from the environment in general, but he felt something was just a little off. It served to gird his sense of righteousness. Dhaera continued to circle and inspect the crystal panes, heedless of the heated conversation. “Of course, if the Lady has spoken, we shall root out this rot,” High Lady Ssaeral said. “I must pray to the Lady and learn more and seek Her insights and think long upon what you have said this day, Brother. Which reminds me, where do you hail from, pilgrim?” “A small village named Lorelei,” Varien said quietly. “Lorelei. Lorelei?” the High Lady says. Iseriasha cleared her throat politely. “Milady, there is a Shrine to the Red Lady in Lorelei far to the North.” “Was,” Varien corrected. “Oh my,” Iseriasha said. “I’m sorry, was there an Order of priests that was disbanded? This is quite far out of our normal sphere of influence. What happened?” Varien frowned. “It was torn apart by unworthy guests,” he said. Iseriasha lowered her head. “We have heard reports that pilgrims no longer make the final leg of the journey from Ten Towns to Lorelei.” “I am the only paladin left from that shrine,” Varien said. “There was a horde of undead that wiped out the town.” “Oh, I am sorry,” Iseriasha said. “But you were a member of the Order of the Sunrise?” “The Order of the Sunrise was broken before I was able to join its ranks,” Varien admitted. “Since that day I have sworn to challenge any rot that arises when I took my Oath of Vengeance.” “Those are very weighty words,” High Lady Ssaeral said, nodding her head. “I don’t mean to play a game of show and tell with every pilgrim that comes to our temple. Clearly you have been favoured by Sune with this prophecy. Have you any other favours of Sune to show us this day?” Varien pulled out his rose, which had brightened and looked much healthier than the last time he had viewed it. Bob pulled out his vials of evergold and willed a golden tear to roll down his cheek. “Oh my,” the High Lady said. “Oh my, indeed. Evidently the Lady Firehair has taken a shine to both of you. Truly we are honoured by your presence at the Temple of Beauty and in Waterdeep. You are welcome to stay here and avail yourselves of any of our amenties. You only have to ask. As for this artifact, there are learned folks all over this great city who could give us great insight into its construction, its essence, its properties.” She looked at Iseriasha. “I do not recall seeing a receptacle where this crystal pane might fit in our temple. Have you, High Exultant?” Iseriasha shook her head. “Nothing comes to mind, milady but this temple is quite old and expansive.” “Well, then clearly we have much work to do,” the High Lady said. To Bob and Varien she said, “I would recommend that you visit the House of Crystal in Waterdeep’s North Ward. It is the headquarters of the Guild of Glassblowers, Glaziers, and Speculum-Makers. They are experts on mirrors, fine crystal balls, stained glass, all sorts of that type of artisanry and I dare say that several members of that guild are members in good standing with the Church of Sune. While we attempt to divine the meaning of Lady Firehair’s words, it would behoove you to visit the House of Crystal to learn more about where this relic might be seated.” “Thank you,” Varien said. “We would of course offer our protection to you, as well as other hospitalities, while we find out our Lady’s intentions.” Varien looked over at Bob and then back to the High Lady. “Well please do let us know if you are granted any further inspiration.” He bowed and helped Bob pack the crystal pane into the bag of holding . “I seek a reliquary,” Varien said, “Befitting this rose granted to me by Sune herself.” “A gold-and-crystal bell jar, perhaps?” the High Lady said. “I am sure our house artisans will be able to provide you with such an item, for a donation or tithe of course.” Another paladin arrived, a member of the Order of the Ruby Rose by the colour of her livery. She was introduced as Celia Orlyar, a blonde-haired beauty whose armour was contoured to accentuate her curves. Varien gave her a ceremonial kiss on the cheeks. “Thank you for your company, sister. Do you think that protection will be necessary?” “When transporting a relic, it is advantageous to have local support, Brother,” Celia said. “You appear to be quite a prodigious talent with the blade,” she continued, looking Varien over. “Of course, we don’t anticipate any danger whatsoever, but we should be prepared.” “I will consult with other worshippers of the Phoenix and see if we have any other information for you now that we know of the existence of this priceless relic.” “Thank you, Sister Dhaera,” Varien said. Varien and Bob headed to the artisan’s quarters to get a reliquary made to house the rose.   Back at the offices of Wolfram & Hart, Wolfram good-naturedly showed Siegfried, Alec and Theryn the door, promising that an exchange of funds would be made and delivered to Sweetsong House care of Bob Trevelyan. Siegfried asked an attendant if there was a private room that he and his companions could have an open, private conversation. “Preferably one lined with lead and no paintings,” he said. A bookcase opened to reveal a secret door leading to a well-appointed but smaller private chamber. Three stuffed chairs were arrayed conversation-style. Siegfried sat down in one of the chairs. “Well, Theryn, you had questions for me, and I’m here to answer them.” “I was asking before what your ambitions were, and what your mission, was so to speak,” Theryn said. Siegfried smiled ruefully. “Well up to a couple of days ago it was to reclaim my birthright on the throne of Neverwinter, but now it turns out I’m not the heir to Neverwinter, and a lot of that is up in the air until a lot of murder gets done.” “Murder, you say?” said Theryn. “That can be hazardous to one’s health.” “Well, you’ve et the current heir to the throne of Neverwinter,” Siegfried replied. “What is your opinion of him?” Theryn pondered this for a moment and then spoke. “If a brother is not born for adversity, what is he born for?” “Here’s the thing,” said Siegfried. “I don’t want to be king of ashes. I want people to live well. I want them to be happy. I think I could do a better job of delivering that than a lot of other people who want the throne.” “Right.” “Now a lot of people disagree with me on this. Dagult is one of them. That’s why he can’t know that I’m gunning for his job.” “Sounds like you’re going to need help,” Theryn said. “Yes, that I am,” Siegfried admitted. “And doing the simple math and calculating that you’re looking to those of us in this little band of ours for said help?” Theryn said. “Interesting,” Siegfried. “Mind you, I have infiltrated cults, convinced them that I’m a devil and had the city guard ambush them in the middle of their sacrifice. I am very persuasive. But I don’t think I can convince either Erwen or Varien to do anything they weren’t already going to do already. Actually, Varien’s a little easier because he actually stands for something, but I don’t even know where to start with Erwen.” “Yes, Erwen strikes me as a bit of a loose cannon.” “He’ll loose it, all right,” Siegfried said. “He is a child with a crossbow.” “Varien very much has a code.” “Someone who stands for something can be convinced of something. Varien will always stand for-” “How does the old saying go, if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for everything?” Theryn said. “That’s patently untrue,” Siegfried said. “Look at Erwen, he stands for nothing and can be convinced of nothing.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m not meant to be king of Neverwinter, because I am not the firstborn, but that’s all in the wind,” Siegfried. “Maybe I need to do a little thinking and figure myself out. Now, you’ve also interacted with my mother.” “A lovely specimen,” Theryn said. “Yes, a survivor of the royal family of Neverwinter, the Alagondars. I don’t know what happened to her but it was clearly unpleasant and made her into that and I’ve lived with her whispering in my ear, telling me to do horrible things to the nobles who didn’t help her, and their children, and I’ve been ignoring and refusing those orders all my life, while taking her power. “When you say taking her power do you mean politically?” “No, this stuff,” Siegfried said, as he began to make ashen swords appear around the room. “All the Shadowfell stuff I do. I didn’t ask for this. I want to do some good, but I’ve done a lot of evil stuff to get there. That’s where my brain goes.” “That could be a stumbling block,” Theryn said. “I also didn’t tie people up and burn them alive, but I did think they were going to tell other people that Erwen and Varien tied them up and burned them alive, so I slowed things down to give them time. The end goal is to build a better society, but when you’ve got my skin colour, it’s kind of difficult to do that politically without very heavy boots.” “Hmm,” Theryn said. He pulls out a notebook he had borrowed from Kowalski and showed a page to Theryn. “Look here. These are plans for some tinkering thing called a semaphore tower. It would allow a commoner, for five coppers, to send a message from Neverwinter to Waterdeep within a half-hour’s time. That’s amazing. But, we can’t have that kind of technology because it would completely invalidate a number of postal services, as well as a wizard cabal that make a lot of money through expensive sending spells. Also, there are marauding orc bands, goblins, and kobolds who would tear such lovely things down. They need to be brought into society. They need to be taught law. Unless this land is brought into some kind of sanity, then we can’t really start working together as a people, but none of this can happen before there is one rule. You see, I have a dream in which I conquer the Sword Coast. And from there, the Sword Coast can be built up.” Theryn sighed. “That’s a lot of territory,” he said. “Perhaps,” Siegfried said, “but if we can get Neverwinter and Waterdeep brought under one command and we can protect the territory between them into order, into society so there won’t be roaming warbands. There won’t be cultists making wagons disappear. Where you can build a village without a necromancer coming to weaponize local thugs to start a slave trade selling the children of apothecaries to cannibalistic goblins. Once we get there, that’s when I can really start helping people. Until then, I have to smile, play the happy little down-on-my-luck half-orc with a toothy grin, because that’s all people see me as – a fortunate boy who is doing well to overcome his cruel, brutish orc nature. But we’re all just waiting for him to snap, rage and bite out our throats, because that’s all he is – an orc. But orcs can do better. You’ve spent your time thinking about us, you’ve looked at our history, you’ve seen the masonry that orckind can build when they put their mind to something other than looting the next village. But there is something that keeps them stupid and violent. Is that Gruumsh? Is that incompetent leadership? Is that the humans who won’t let them in to trade? Why not all of them. “Well,” Theryn said. “It’s a lot to take in, first of all. I think you have a problem of culture there. Have you in your knowledge of history ever come across where culture is changed by forceful leadership?” “Yes, thank you for asking!” Siegfried said. “Let me tell you about the Kingdom of Many-Arrows, a place where orcs do have commerce, laws, and justice, and where there is rule and order, and there are a lot of orcs who say this is not Gruumsh’s way, and absolutely it is better than Gruumsh’s way. So, we know orcs can do better. Orcs are not bound to the violence inherent in their nature. However, do you know how one becomes a noble in Waterdeep, Theryn? It’s a very interesting process.” “Yeah?” “You don’t!” Siegfried said with a laugh. “There is no way to become a noble in Waterdeep. Not anymore. There was a time when people were selling noble titles, and those who were smart enough to rise up in society, who gained wealth, were able to purchase those titles because they were fit to lead, fit to make intelligent decisions. And that got stamped down because it was not the traditional way. And those who try to buy their way into nobility get murdered by the nobility, if not reputationally then literally. That’s something that needs to be broken and stopped. Orcs that go around burning Phandalin for a few copper pieces and wheat, that needs to be stopped.” “And how do the Brothers Trevelyan and Varien factor into your agenda?” Theryn asked. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask Alec?” Siegfried said, indicating the barbarian. Alec shrugged. “You know, it’s good that you have dreams, Siegfried. I had a dream once. But then I got drafted into an army, and my comrades died, and then I got put on a spit roast and almost died.” “Yes, and Theryn, I think people should not be put on spit roasts,” Siegfried said. “Right,” Theryn said, looking at Alec. “So, what are your plans from here on out? Are you wanting to join Siegfried here, or do you have other plans?” “My plans? Well, honestly, now that Nezznar is dead, it’s more that I’ve been helping you all for so long, I need to feel like I’m contributing, and making a difference in people’s lives,” Alec said. “You plan to go your own way, then?” “At least for a little while,” Alec said. “Now that my squad is gone, it’s all a little meaningless. After all, Bob has that dragon thing.” “Yes, that was as fortunate as it was fascinating to watch,” Theryn agreed. “Having a dragon on our side at that critical moment was the difference between life and death. But, Siegfried, tell me, what do you know about Damara?”

Siegfried frowned thoughtfully. “A sparsely-populated kingdom in the Cold Lands to the northeast, isn’t it? About halfway between Waterdeep and Kirkwall, now that I think about it. North of the Sea of Fallen Stars, south of the Great Glacier. A number of baronies and duchies under the rule of King Yarin Frostmantle, last I heard.” He gave Theryn an appraising look. “I knew there was a reason you handled the cold mountain weather so well.” “There’s a monastery in the southwestern region of Damara where I grew up, the Monastery of the Yellow Rose,” Theryn said. “And we focus on the four elements: each monk has to find their own way, but we at a certain point in our development set out on a journey to find the personifications of each of these four ideas in items: fire, earth, water and asceticism. We have to travel the lands and look for the personifications of these virtues and vices in different items. Eventually there is a ritual performed once all four have been found. This is all legend of course because in my lifetime I’ve not seen it, but when the four monks return to perform the ceremony, we become bonded to each other and form a very powerful weapon. This bond also creates, according to legend, immortality among the monks – the only way to kill one of them is to kill all four of them simultaneously. So, the monks are never brought together if it can be helped, because the results would be catastrophic. However, there is a moment in the ritual where one of the monks can betray his brothers and claim the power for himself. The challenge in sourcing these elements is that if you are looking for fire, for example, which represents death and rebirth, you’re looking for a weapon of some kind. If you’re looking for the perfect life, then you’re looking for something in earth, and water brings purity, and everything combined brings immortality. The danger in pursuing the perfect weapon is that you may fall prey to becoming a murderer, the danger in pursuing life is that you risk detachment, succumbing to death, in pursuit of purity it could lead to corruption, and pursuing the enduring beauty, immortality, you could become vain and greedy. So, when the four monks meet there is always a risk in succumbing to the vice within the virtue. And so, you, in your quest to becoming a leader, should the monks of my Order succeed in finding these four items and performing the ritual, they will become a tremendous ally, or foe, depending on the relationship that is established with them. Obviously, my quest involves being one of those four monks, and I respect your ideals of trying to help people and I could see that fitting in to what I would like to do as well, but my main quest supersedes that. However, as is often the case, if you scratch my back; I’ll scratch yours.” Siegfried pondered the weight of Theryn’s words for a time. “And which one of these four elements are you seeking?” “I was sent out from the monastery looking for the aesthetic, the jewel.” Theryn said. “Though none of us can be told exactly what to find. They will know after they seek it out based on meditating and attuning with the item. Fire will be found in the form of a weapon, and the earth, water, and others we are looking for it in different forms. They all follow after their element in general terms. According to our scriptures and legends, the ceremony combines the four elements into a powerful but immaterial weapon that binds itself to the monks performing the ritual. The artifacts phase from the material form into formless energy and are forged through meditation into an immaterial sword that can be wielded against physical and magical enemies. If the monks are pure of heart and mind, the blade is formed in the ceremony. It can be summoned at will by the four monks, but they are bound to it, and to one another, sharing one life force. There are some other details around this legend, but there is also some myth around the blade and its capabilities, in that it has not only the power to deal damage but to heal its wielder.” “Nice sword,” Siegfried said. “And the healing is shared across the monks, distributed at any point,” Theryn said. “The problem is, if one of these monks decides during the ceremony to take the power for himself, it is possible to interrupt the binding, if that monk is not pure of heart, he would be able to sieze the blade and strike down the other monks. The full power would then belong to that monk. There is a cost, however – the blade becomes corrupted and would slowly corrupt the monk’s mind, turning them down a dark and evil path, with a complete disregard for life, even lives they once held dear. Anyone who stands in the way of what they want. And once that corruption begins, it is very difficult to recognize that is it happening.” “So, I have a question for you, Theryn.” Siegfried said. “What is your intention during the ritual?” “My intention is to successfully complete the ritual and establish the era of the reign of these Four Monks,” Theryn said. “I am not of the intention to at this point do anything otherwise, but that is something we are warned against: if you think you are immune to something you are at the highest at risk of succumbing to it. So I don’t thin kfor a second that I’m not above some evil desire to grab power.” “I like that philosophy, Theryn. I like this religion,” Siegfried. “Now, I cannot offer you the Crown of Neverwinter, it is not for you. But, any other relics in my treasury that resonate with you, to help in your crowning are yours if you help me in my crowning.” “Well then we should hope that your crown is not the item I seek,” Theryn said. Siegfried smiled grimly. “I think not, as it tends to kill those who wear it but who are not of the Alagondar line.” He thought for a moment. However, there might be some legendary weapons hidden among the ashes, buried in the fire that consumed Neverwinter, that might be of use to you in your quest,” Siegfried continued. It was said that King Nasher Alagondar wore Gloves of Thunder in battle against Luskan’s legions during the Battle of the Moon. The gloves were enchanted, they say, by the court mage, but others say the gauntlets acquired their magical properties after Lord Nasher was able to break free from the strangling grip of a stone golem using only his hands. Does this resonate with you?” “Well it certainly piques my interest,” Theryn admitted. “The challenge we face in our trek is that we won’t know it until we see it, and touch it, and sometimes, the common thing is to think that it is some grandiose item, but it is quite possible that the thing we are looking for is something mundane and ignored. But it could be both, we must remain open to that possibility rather than concluding beforehand. It is not always the well-guarded secret that speaks the greatest truth.” “Oh, this weapon is no well-guarded secret,” Siegfried said. “It is hidden under a pile of ashes in the ruins of my ancestral home. But if it is what you need, and you are still my friend at that time, then it is yours.” Theryn thought about this for a moment. “There are other avenues open to me. These visions of the White Hand of Yurtrus, the meteor striking Mount Stonefang, and then of the mountains running red with blood and pestilence. This was an orcish prophecy that came to pass that resulted in the creation of the Realm of Uruth Ukrypt. It was likely that Tholl Sla-Houk was the original resting place of this strange unearthly stone carved into the likeness of the god’s white hand. The Dawnbringer Company left it behind in Tholl Sla-Houk not knowing what it was, but according to that inscription in the coffin, the relic was taken to Melairrin.” “Melairrin?” Siegfried said. “Yes, yes. It’s not that far from Waterdeep, all things considered. A network of caves beneath Mount Sar. Mount Sar is in the southern Sword Mountains, you know. Once the seat of orc power in the Sword Coast.” “As of right now, since my quest involves questing and journeying, traveling about solo is not nearly as pleasant as having someone watch your back,” Theryn said. “Just try to keep the crazy down to a minimum, I would like to not get into more trouble than I might find on my own out and about.” “Elusive wishes, Theryn,” Siegfried said. “You cannot have allies by your side without being enrolled in their troubles. Why we’re here today, to protect Erwen. And I’ll have your back, and I’ll have Varien’s back, and I’ll have Bob’s back, and Alec’s back. Hello, Alec!” He nodded at Alec. In the distance, a wolf howled. “You and I are chasing ghosts, Theryn,” Siegfried said. “You seek the White Hand of Yurtrus, and I seek the Ettin Axe of Uruth. We seek the ghosts of orc hordes past, be they the Broken Bone, the Black Claw, or the Black Horde itself. The centuries have wrought their havoc. But to be honest, if somebody has taken these treasures, somebody would know – namely Rulgar. So then we just find him again, wrestle him to the ground, and punch him in the face until he gives us what we want.” “I have been working on something in secret that might help with that,” Theryn said. “Douse the lamp, Siegfried, and let me demonstrate, my good friend.” His curiosity piqued, Siegfried did so, turning down the wick until the lamp sputtered and died. Theryn vanished from Siegfried’s sight. “Interesting,” Siegfried said. “You have gained a modicum of invisibility, have you?” “He’s right there in the shadows, Siegfried,” Alec said, perplexed. “Hush now,” Siegfried said, scanning the room. “All that time humping around under cave and cavern, I think I have done well at perfecting this.” Theryn’s voice rang out. “What?” Siegfried shook his head. “This is clearly invisibility .” “Nope,” Alec said, “he’s right there.” “I don’t know if you knew this about darkvision, Siegfried,” Theryn’s voice rang out. “but if you close one eye, you’ll be able to see me.” Siegfried closed an eye. Theryn was still invisible. The gloom stalker’s laughter echoed in the small room. “Bamboozled!” Siegfried said, and started laughing uproariously. “Oh Theryn, we are going to create some mischief, aren’t we?” “Quite possibly, just don’t get me killed,” Theryn said. “The murdering of political opponents, though historically effective, might prove hazardous to my health.” “Oh, it’s much better to employ them,” Siegfried said. “I would far rather employ Dagult Neverember in my royal court than have him killed because he’s actually good at his job.” He reflected on this for a moment. “He just needs to be told to keep it in his pants rather than give state secrets away to redheaded girls. The whole Radegast situation, I’m glad it worked out in our favour, but you shouldn’t give royal pardons to the daughters of pretty elves just because they bat their eyelashes at you.” “Learning about these different items, it’s quite possible and worth investigating their candidacies, but I would be remiss if I did not take the opportunity while in Waterdeep to peruse the inventories of the various shrines around the city and the artifacts they have within,” Theryn said. “And I trust you know the city quite well and could assist me.” “That I do. Now, you’ve seen how my family is with their wealth. Outright purchasing of holy relics might be out of the question, but a heist, on the other hand. A heist we can do.” “If it comes to that, possibly, but I don’t need your family’s money, but I do need a tour guide,” Theryn said. “To see if we can peruse their inventories and if I find what I’m looking for, proceed with negotiations.” “A lot of faiths don’t like giving away their relics, so heists may be required.” Siegfried said. “I’m speaking in code, my dear friend,” Theryn said. “Look around you, Theryn,” Siegfried said. “We’re in a room where secret codes aren’t required.” “I like to keep the habit,” Theryn said. “It’s a good habit to keep,” Siegfried said. “We’re going to do actual crimes.” He pointed at the copy of the Code Legal. “There’s a lot we can do here, if we get away with it.” “Getting away is my specialty,” Theryn said. “A useful skill to have,” Siegfried said. “Now, to Thort’s Findings! You’re going to love the place.” He turned to Alec. “And I trust we can rely on your discretion?” Alec threw up his hands. “Fine,” he said.   In the Sea Ward, Purrwen’s ears perked up as he saw a caravan of carriages exit the gates of the Hero’s Garden. From the most opulent coach in the centre of the train, he could see the blonde-haired Elzerina gazing forlornly from a window. The other carriages were crowded with footmen and handlers and other members of the wealthy noble family’s entourage. Fleet-footed groomsmen handed out leftovers from the family’s picnic food to passers-by in the street tied up in neat gilded handkerchiefs as the convoy rolled slowly and conspicuously down the street. “That’s the Cassalanters for you,” a pedestrian sniffed. “Always putting on a show.” Purrwen got to his four feet, stretched lazily, and then darted after the carriage procession, following at a discreet distance as the coaches rode down Diamond Street, past the Temple of Beauty, to a large walled villa at the corner of Delzorin Street and Diamond Street that dominated the block of impressive rowhouses. He watched the family and their entourage glide through the gates of the villa, which clanged shut behind them. From across the street, Purrwen stroked  his whiskers thoughtfully.