A Bard a Beholder and Two Barflies (Sheritomo)

[Akavit]

Prologue

Amidst the haze and bustle of the Elfsong, two men sit at a table savoring spiced mead and conversing with each other. Perhaps conversing is not the best way of putting it, rather, one man is talking while the other nods agreement and makes a few terse replies. As they (he) talk, their glance keeps straying to a nearby table at which two young women are seated. One might be tempted to smile at their preoccupation but a closer examination reveals that their gaze never rests on the beautiful elf but rather, on her less attractive companion.

The loquacious balding man takes a long pull on his pipe then sets it down. The other man - much younger and likely a relation judging by his features - sips delicately at his drink. He savors the flavor in his mouth as he waits for his elder to resume speaking.

"Aye, she be a strange one, sure enough. Though I reckon that's as expected from a foreigner. Not her fault of course, what with being born in the wrong place and all. What's your take on this here Kah-Rah-Tur place she hails from, laddie? What manner of city be it?"

A moment lapses, evidently due to the term "laddie" raising some feeling of annoyance. The answer comes eventually though, short and to the point. "It's a continent. I know nothing else about it."

"Eh? Well, it be a foreign continent, no less. She ain't all bad though. This season's trip was all the brighter considering. The miles from Westgate ain't never passed so quickly as this time around. I won't deny that. But that fibbing of hers, that's after the manner of them easterners. Can't trust 'em to tell it straight, no sir."

"What makes you think she's been telling lies?"

"I didn't get my gray hairs without learning a thing or two over the years, boy. That fanciful tale about the Geeyaas, eyes and city-sacking was just the sort of thing a gal would tell to garner attention."

The subject of their conversation rises from her table thus bringing it to a temporary halt. Her slanted eyes, black hair and dark complexion clearly confirm her to be one "of them easterners". She is very short and her almost painfully thin form is clad in a dusty, faded tunic - formerly rich purple but now lavender.

The talk resumes. "Anyhow, you wouldn't know but I questioned her later and got her to admitting the truth." A pause suitable for eliciting the listener to prompt for the continuation of the tale ensues. The prompt fails to come, resulting of course, in the resumption of the story. "The poor gal is reluctant to talk of it but as it turns out, she's a runaway slave. Yep, some right, powerful, Calimshamian efreeti got the idea in his noggin to enslave her and her kinsfolk. She'd not be here now if some hero paladin hadn't had his say. The efreeti was none too willing to be letting go of his "belongings" as was his way of putting it. The paladin and his wand of fire says otherwise and the wicked feller goes scooting off with a bad case of the sweats."

The girl reaches the exit then looks at the two men. A broad smile spreads across her face as she waves to the pair. A moment later she is gone from sight leaving them staring at a wooden door.

"Could stand to gain a few pounds, that one. Them foreigners don't seem to eat good and proper. Can't say if they're being finicky or just too cheap to spend a copper on vittles. What do you think, boy?"

The other's eyes roll back in curious coincidence with the pronunciation of the word "boy". "She ate nothing, excepting what I offered her."

"That's what I mean - cheap. I wish there were something I could do to help. Hey there!" A passing barmaid stops and looks at him. "Bring us another round of spiced mead and some meat besides."

A few moments later, they are digging into a roasted fowl. A golden silence reigns for several minutes, punctuated only by the clatter of dishes and utensils. Only when two stomachs are satisfied is anything spoken.

"Gonna miss her singing." The words are spoken wistfully.

A slow nod is the only answer that comes.

[Akavit]

Chapter One

The story begins in a large city located in the continent of Kara-Tur. Neither the name of the city, nor that of the nation is known. For Sheritomo has spoken of her past just once since leaving her native lands and did not reveal the location. She has sundered herself from her past with such finality, that only one incident remains in her waking thought. What follows is the story that was told to two sympathetic but unbelieving merchants.

A small figure hastens through the narrow confines of an alley. The moon is a full but it fails to brighten the dark streets between the rooftops of tall buildings. For just a brief instant though, a shaft of light shining between two buildings illuminates the girl as she passes by. Her presence is incongruous with her surroundings. To see a girl of seventeen running through the streets during the night is odd enough, but this one is dressed in a tunic of rich purple cloth quite at odds with the dinginess of the neighborhood. The cause of this abnormality however, is evident. Many of the streets are aglow with fire. Shouts, screams and the occasional clash of steel permeate the night air.

As Sheritomo pauses to catch her breath, she listens for a moment then presses against a wall. Just ahead, the unmistakable sound of clanking steel becomes apparent. A tiny dagger comes out of her belt. In her eyes, weariness and grief are visible. Yet her demeanor suggests no fear, but rather, that of total resignation to an unavoidable fate.

A small band of armed men file into view. At the front is a short man of muscular build dressed in blue robes. He alone carries no weapon, yet he seems perfectly confident in strolling through the darkness. His glance darts about then suddenly rests upon Sheritomo. He grins then speaks to his men.

"Well now, look who we've found. If the family crest she bears doesn't mislead me, it's the Orestes urchin that escaped our little coup." He looks at the girl and continues in a mocking voice. "Your incompetent kin has held sway over the city far too long. It's my turn now. Too bad I can't promise to rest your bones with your family. My dogs have already finished with them." He laughs then abruptly adds; "I will kill you now."

The response comes low and clear, "Then come here and do so." Her fingers tighten around the grip of her blade.

The robed man shakes his head and utters a few words of arcane power. An orange fog swirled into the alley and the girl reels and falls to the ground gasping. The leaves of a nearby bush curl and crackle. As she convulses in pain, her tormentor nods his head in satisfaction.

"That's the end of her. Let's get back to the killing. This city will bend to my will by morning."

The men quickly retreat from the deadly vapors - except for one man. He slips away from the others and moves quickly to towards Sheritomo. As he approaches, he touches an amulet around his neck and speaks one word. A refreshing breeze rushes through, cleansing the air of the sickly vapor. In an instant, he is at her side working swiftly while speaking feverishly.

"I am sorry about this, sorry about your family, this city. I am sorry about everything. I can't help it. I swore that geas to him years ago. I was greedy and foolish but I didn't know it would come to this. The senseless killing and torture. I didn't know."

At last he succeeds in propping her up and forcing the contents of a potion down her throat. The tremors that wrack her body cease and she falls limp - barely conscious but alive.

"I want out but I can't get out. He knows. He knows and he taunts me, dangling the escape in front of me. But he knows it's impossible. Water of life, amulet of power, eye of the elder, one from Lathander, two from the bearer, the last but not least, seek ye 'neath fair 'un. Look first for the city of Balduran."

The young woman tries speaking but to no words come from her parched throat. The flow of words from the other remains unabated. Even as he pours out frantic speech, he pulls the amulet off and throws it to the ground.

"It binds the geas somehow and those words give the means to destroy it. He told me so because he knows I can't do it. Help me. Please help." He shoots her a terrified look before groaning and letting her fall back to the ground. As he turns and flees, his last words trail behind him in a despairing wail. "It's hopeless! No one can help me now....."

The potion's healing power is strong and Sheritomo soon rises and continues her stealthy flight. The second attempt proves to be more fruitful and by dawn she finds herself far away from the city. A faint orange glow and slowly rising plumes of black smoke are the only signs that remain visible to her. She lowers herself to a sitting position, rests her chin in her hands and gazes at the evidence of her city's tragedy.

They are all dead, every one of them. I suppose I will join them soon enough..... No but wait, he thinks I am dead also. If I leave they will never know. But what will I do with myself? Seek revenge? No. That would only add one evil to another and bring more pain and misery upon myself and the innocents of my poor home city.

She continues to sit and contemplate her future for a long while. In her lap sits the amulet that was left behind by her rescuer.

That fellow, what was he talking about? What's a geas? A curse of some sort? His story is hard to accept as truth. I believe him though. I have never seen such terror and despair in another. She takes the amulet in her hands and fingers it. If destroying it is all that is needed I can take care of that right now. Laying the necklace on a stone she lifts up another rock and repeatedly smashes the delicate object. Nothing! Perhaps there is only one way to unbind the magic that protects it. If only I could make sense of the riddles - and poorly composed at that! - he spoke about. She lets out a long sigh. My old life is gone now. If it were not for that man, I would be dead. Very well. I will see what I can learn about ending his curse.

Several weeks later, Sheritomo leaves a goldsmith's shop in a somewhat distant town. She no longer wears the medallion which bore her family crest. In her hand she hold a small bag of coins. With the bag in hand, she quickly makes her way through the streets until coming upon a ship preparing to depart.

"I'm back! I've got the gold too. Here you go sir.

"Yer in lass. Welcome aboard! We're 'bout ta weigh anchor. Yer goin' ta find yerself on the mainland faster en two blinks o yer eyes!"

This is it. I'm on my way to Faerun - or at least the first step in getting there.

She settles down on the ship's deck, pulls out an old lore book titled A Brief History of the Nations of Faerun. Its pages naturally part to one particular place as she flips its cover open. At the top of the page reads, The Great Cities of Faerun. Her eyes drop down the page and rest on two words of bold script.

Baldur's Gate.

[Akavit]

Journal entry:

So far so good. I haven't learned anything about the geas but at least I'm surviving! Farmer Jorn paid me well for my wolf pelt so food isn't a problem anymore. I haven't had this much gold since I sold my medallion.

Getting the pelt wasn't so easy though. Just the thought of trying to kill a wolf with my little knife is too painful. It's well that I met a chivalrous paladin who insisted on protecting me from the wolves. Of course I kept an eye out for the creatures and made sure to be dutifully frightened when I saw one.


Journal entry:

Finally! I can do a little hunting on my own. I was fortunate to encounter a group heading to Beregost. One fellow traveler by the name of Nahum gave me a very nice crossbow. I should be able to get a few pelts as long as I don't let the wolves surprise me. One of them did as I was walking back to the city and caught me by the throat. It must have gone away after I blacked out because it was nowhere to be seen when I regained consciousness. There was a woman wearing black armor coming down the road so perhaps that is why the wolf ran off.

Note to self: Avoid people dressed in black. I've never received any kindness from them. That woman who found me bleeding to death was especially cruel. She seemed very pleased at my predicament and even suggested that more wolves would come to finish me off! If one Sir Valek who wore silver armor hadn't come along I don't think I'd be here writing in this journal. He healed me and even insisted that I accept several costly potions in case of future need. I'll probably always bear the marks of that mauling on my neck but I'm just glad to still be alive.

[Akavit]

Journal entry:

I'm not making much progress here. I did obtain a bottle of holy water from the temple of Lathander but that's about it. What does "seek ye 'neath Faerun" mean? The only possibility that I can think about would be a cave. Even that makes little sense and I've yet to find anything of interest in the caverns I've explored thus far. Perhaps the problem lies in that I don't even know what manner of creature an "elder" could be.

[Akavit]

Chapter Two:

With dawn had come ill news for the people of Beregost. A massacre had taken place within the normally cheerful greatroom of the Jovial Juggler. Rumors spread rapidly, yet few were able to say what exactly had taken place behind the closed doors of that inn. A detachment of Fist guards had secured the place and placed a veil over the tragedy. With the surprising exception of a lone halfling, no one was allowed entry and few were even allowed to even remain near the scene of the tragedy. Less than half a dozen people unaffiliated with the Fist were to be seen and it seemed unlikely that any of them had any means to assist the authorties. Eventually the halfling went her own way while an armor-clad man and a short and dark young woman left for Baldur's Gate. The investigation proceeded in their absence for the remainder of the day before the inn was turned back over to it's owner. Though the place was soon put in order, few citizens had interest in frequenting that establishment over the next few weeks - or any of the other inns for that matter.

Thus it came to pass that two traveling merchants seeking rest and refreshment find themselves in the nearly empty dining hall of Feldepost's Inn one evening a week after the murders. Though normally lit in a bright and cheerful fashion, the interior is only partially lit. The air outside is heavy with rain and sheets of water flow down the windows. A fire blazing in the hearth and a lone oil lamp near the proprietor's counter are the sole sources of illumination. The pair have just finished dining and have chosen to retire to a dark corner to relax and smoke. Finding that their vantage point affords good opportunity to observe other patrons without their knowledge, the duo promptly begin to amuse themselves in this fashion.

"Look there lad! I'll wager that man there ain't seen his own feet since the day he was born. Least ways, he could well do without that double potion of tubers." There is some chuckling as he lifts his mug of stout. "He don't needs that beer he's ordered neither." His speech is interrupted momentarily as he takes a long drag at his own brew. "And that woman by the window's a riot. All airs she is. All dolled up in furs and jewels and her nose pointing smack at the roof. Why I'll bet you a team of horses that she's got to stay indoors when it's raining on account of the danger of drowning! Her escort looks a smug sort himself. Why I...."

The creak of badly oiled hinges distracts him from his monologue and he looks towards the newcomer. His keen glance starts at the feet and moves gradually upward even as he lauches into a fresh barrage of criticism. "Eh now what's this? Muddy boots, outlandish curved sword.. Ha! What's she making herself out to be? That little lass thinks she's a real high falutin' adventurer eh?" By now his examination has moved up to the woman's face. "Bah! Just as I thought! One of them foreigners. Can't be satisfied with being part of the regular folk but have to prance about show.... Eh there boy what's your problem?"

The man's companion has grabbed his arm and whispers excitedly, "It's her, It's her!"

"Who's 'her' lad? I......" Realization hits him and his jaw drops into his frothy beverage. For once the older man is rendered speechless as he stares in disbelief at the girl. She orders hot cider from the innkeeper as he rushes up to whisk her drenched cloak away for drying. Upon receiving the requested beverage, she steps quickly to the fireplace. Laying a katana and a small but hefty pack aside, the Kara-Turan sets herself on the floor and sips contentedly from her mug oblivious the whole while to the scrutiny of the reclining merchants.

The younger man takes advantage of the silence to interject a comment of his own. "She's gained a bit of weight."

"Hrrrmm. Yes. That she has." He wets his throat from his cup and clears his throat a few times while searching for words to rekindle his monologue. "Hrrrmmm. Ah, hmm yes. It looks like the local air's done good for her. I reckon she's learned the sensible ways of us folk and done away with that there foreign manner of starving oneself for the sake of a copper or two. I don't approve of her choice of weaponry though. A knife's good enough for the honest folk. Leave the swords to soldiers; that's what I say. Though I'll grant that's something that she's learned from them places she's come from. I ain't blaming her for being cautious what with all the wild and lawless places out there in ah.. hrrmm."

"Kara-Tur."

"That be the place. What with all the lawlessness and trouble in those parts I'm sure anybody would want to be armed to the teeth. This here land though be safe enough. We've got laws and an honest guard to keep order. She don't need that sword anymore."

"She only had a knife before."

"Weren't you listening to me boy? I told you foreigners were cheap! Of course she wouldn't have bought an expensive sword to save her own skin." The "boy" lapses back into silence with an audible sigh. "Now that she's learned some things are more important than gold, she'd no doubt buy a weapon to soothe lingering fears of nasty places like Karat -Ur or Calim-Sham."

The man falls silent and he watches with interest as she pulls a leather-bound book, a rolled up parchment and a writing instrument from her pack. For some time she busies herself by scribing a short line, looking through her pack and consulting the parchment. She carries on the monotonous routine while the two watching men grow more and more incredulous.

"Well I declare that if she ain't keeping a ledger than I ain't the merchant son of a merchant!" His companion shows equal surprise but merely nods in reply. "Ha ha my lad, we've done good! If we accomplish nothing more in this life I'll not be discontent! Who'd have thought she'd actually got the mind and determination to pursue mercantile business. I'll confess I never thought there was anything more than idle chatter behind the unceasing questions she heaped upon the pair of us. But I'm glad to see it. It's a real pleasure to have helped that little one and that's the spoken truth!"

By now all of the other customers have left the room. The proprietor moves about dusting and cleaning. Even as he buffs a set of silverware, he glances at regular intervals towards the woman by the fire. The clink of dinnerware, though soft, sounds loud in the silent room. As the patter of rain upon the roof slows, she looks up and noticing the place being put into order, rises to her feet and calls to the man.

"I'm so sorry to have kept you up like this. You could have said something to me!"

"That is alright miss. I hope you enjoyed your sit by the fire. Your room is prepared for you if you are ready to turn in. Right this way please."

As he leads her up the stairs, the two merchants leave their chairs and slip outside under the now clear night sky.

"It's too bad we can't stay awhile at old Feldepost's place. Business is business though and it's best we get ourselves to the city by the fifth. The caravan master will be wanting to set out pretty soon I'd imagine and he'll not wait up for stragglers. It was good to see an old friend safe and sound though, eh boy?"

The quiet man nods absently and replies slowly with a thought of his own, "She's a strong one."

"Eh? I don't get you lad. She's hardly that. She's a small gal and not particularly strong even for a woman if my memory serves me correct. What's your meaning?"

His companion simply shakes his head and they set out along the Tradeway without further exchange of words.

[Akavit]

Chapter Three

"I'm not sure I will be able to find them now."

"Don't worry. I can find them for you."

She seems confident. I hope she's right but it's so dark in here. But wait... I can see the lights. They haven't gone far yet.

A small woman slips into the musty chamber of a gloomy hall; its crumbling walls were but a sad reminder of Illefarn, the ancient and nearly forgotten empire. As she approaches the group assembled within the room, she is followed by a large figure that towers over her. Yet upon nearing their party, the size-relationship between the two takes on a new perspective. All halflings aside, Sheritomo is no giant herself. Standing besides the assembly of warriors, she seems as diminutive as her hin friend does next to herself.

Yes. They're all here. There's the druid and the ranger. I can see the gnome underneath that elven arcanist. And of course there's the priest. I didn't know he was leading the group. Maybe it's only natural being here. In the darkness he seems the most confident. Perhaps it isn't the darkness though. It may be what lies ahead that unsettles them so. An "aberration" is what the druid called it, whatever that may be.

The priest calls quietly to the others to gather about for the final preparations. Lost in her thoughts, Shero remains outside the circle of protections. Most of her companions vanish before her eyes. Their presence is still apparent as they finalize their strategy. Their hushed whispers almost seem to echo loudly in her ears.

Uh oh... I should have been there with the others. Hopefully I'll get by without the priest's blessings. I'll have to now, they're going forward.

It's odd following nothing. I can't even hear their footfalls. That spell must have changed their very forms. Okay now, just around that corner. Thank goodness for my little friend. If it weren't for her whispers I'd lose them for sure.

The clash came as a thunderclap shattering the deadly silence. She ducks around the corner in time to see one of her companions stagger from a quick succession of magical blasts. Instant panic and confusion break all vestige of order. One man falls, some freeze in place or flee in panic while others rush the foe.

I've been through this before..... Even as the thought arises, a vivid image flashes before her eyes of a dark cave illuminated by the brief yet brilliant flashes of spellcasting. A great bulbous shape looms just ahead, rays of energy firing every which way. Arrayed against it are the white and blue of the Weavemasters, and the red and white of the Flaming Fist. Without warning, a deadly ray lashes out over the silver helm of a knight and the vision explodes in a flash of green light. Searing pain, blackness, then the shadowy form of a great wyrm follow in rapid succession before the tentacled orb superimposes itself once more. Its shape became so clear she can almost see it with her eyes.

With a shock, it hits her that the orb itself was very real. Two more float into view even as two warriors and the cleric rush the first. Not all follow suit as many of the men simply stand with their weapons down, their faces showing astonishment and fear. With a shake of her head, the woman casts the paralyzing thoughts away and dashes to the aid of the three men in the lead.

Why do they stand back like that? The men up there cannot stand alone. There isn't much that I can do myself but maybe I can aid them in my own way. I just need to get a little closer. Even as she prepares to cast a spell, the charge fails as the combined might of the three beholders converges upon the trio of brave but foolish adventurers. As they fall, she finds that nothing stands between her and the monstrosities. Uh oh! I'm either too fast or too slow. Time to go!

Funny how time passes so slowly in moments like this. It's coming after me. I just know it'll hit me in the back......

One of the aberrations floats after the fleeing woman and shoots rays in several directions. One strikes her and she ducks to the ground with an expression of blank surprise even as the rear guard steps forward. With one quick motion, she regains her feet and dashes past her remaining companions before turning about to assess the situation.

I'm still alive! It's had to believe but we should pull through now. It's badly hurt and our spell casters are in action now! I can see the two druids and the rather short mage. Where's my little friend at though? She was here a moment ago. Oh wait! She's gotten behind the thing and.... Yes! She's lopped off one of its eyestalks! One more salvo and it'll be finished!

Having long since realized that the bolts from her crossbow are useless, the woman focuses herself on countering the insidious magic that threatens to send even the bravest warriors running in terror. Her efforts are successful and the small band holds together long enough to conjure an immense storm of missiles and lightning on the beast. The monster screams and shudders under the impact; the very walls of the corridor tremble amidst the echoing thunder. As the sound dies, the Kara-Turan removes the shielding hand that protected her eyes from the blinding light and looks expectantly towards the wreck of her adversary. Hopes are quickly dashed. Instead of falling to the ground, the thing rolls back its great central eyelid then lashes out with rays emitting from its lesser eyes. In a single instant all protective magics fail and one of the druids collapses along with the stealthy halfling. Sheritomo and her two companions turn and flee.

Why isn't it dead? It can't survive that! It's a lost cause for us now....

A call for help from the gnomish druid arouses her from her thoughts of despair. The mage had fallen as they retreated into a large room. Acting swiftly, the two survivors pull him into the room and wedge the door shut with a sword.

He's not dead. We'll save him yet. It'll take some time before those monsters can break down the door.

Her thoughts are cut short at the sound of steel scraping against stone and her eyes widen as she looks up to the door. The sword slides out of its place as the latch moves and the door swings open. Framed within the opening is the beholder - or what remains of it. The central eye stares back unblinking amidst the bloody pulp that surrounds it. Two eyestalks are still attached to the nearly obliterated orb yet barely so. Without a word the young woman dashes away. As all courage fails her, she no longer takes thought of her comrades. The only thought pervades her mind is that of escape - escape from the indestructible fury that pursues her.

Why won't it die?

Another blast strikes her from behind and with a final act of desperation she rolls behind a pile of rotting crates. Weak, half-conscious but very much alive, she lies silent and still while listening for the approaching menace. Something brushes against the wall and passes by. Still she remains motionless and waits. Soon another moves past and shortly after, a third. Sheritomo relaxes slightly but continues to lie in place and strains to pick up even the faintest of sounds. From the distance come faint growls and the sizzling sound of the beholders' blasts echo weakly down the stone passageways at regular intervals. Though the sounds are nearly inaudible her sharp ears detect them.

Those would be the leopards, the poor creatures.

But how... They have no hands! How did it open the door?



OOC note: Thanks to Cephas for the event with the bugged beholders and a total party kill.

[Akavit]

Journal Entry:

I may as well give up the quest. It's impossible as the cursed man said it was. Uncovering the meaning of "eye of the elder" has banished the last vestige of hope.

When that ghost possessed the campfire and spoke to my companions, I thought it rather quaint. When he promised to answer questions, I thought it to be amusing. Little did I expect to receive an explanation about the elder when I asked the spirit about it in a half-joking manner. I am glad I ran away before it got around to the fortune-telling part. My future holds little promise now, to hear some dismal foretelling from an ancient spirit would only serve to pitch me in despair. At least I can still hope against all hope.

A beholder! And not only that, but an incredibly ancient and powerful one! I refused to believe those words for the longest time but I can no longer take solace in self-delusion. Having a lead such as this made it easy to do some research at the city's library. It's true. What's more, "beneath Faerun" can only refer to the Underdark. I've heard rumors of the place before but it wasn't until I found those old tomes in the library that I learned the true extent of it. One could die a thousand horrible ways in such a place long before finding an ancient beholder in those endless miles of dark labyrinths. And if I could locate one, what then? I cannot bring one down. I have seen strong warriors and wizards do such. Perhaps I could find some help? No. I cannot do that to my friends. I've seen many people turned to dust or stone by those creatures. I won't dwell on that thought....

I want to go home so badly and cast this whole business behind me. The path to dispel the geas can end in nothing other than failure and an unspeakable death. It's sad to have come this far, to have traveled across a continent for nothing. The irony is almost unbearable. Who would have thought that breaking the riddle would have ended it all as a failure rather than success?

If I give up now though, I'll bear the burden of remorse until the end of my days. What would become of me then? I would be Sheritomo, a woman without a last name, country, home, family or ancestry. To be an exile, a displaced wanderer for life seems almost worse than death.

I must go on. Finding an entrance is the next step. I think I can start up my trade again as an excuse to acquire books, maps and journals. Somebody has to know a way in.

Looking at the bright side, I'll be reunited with my family. At least my death won't be the doing of a beholder. I'll never make it that far - not in the Underdark.