As mentioned in the earlier post - this the write up I did, paraphrasing the 15 sessions as told by the Necrolord of Grymeria, Lord Duncan Eternal. No pictures went with this post report - sorry!
Follows:
The spectral glow of the Nightwood’s made light clock gave a pulse twice before muting back down, only the faint metallic tick tick tick of the gearworks within gave testament to the time piece’s operation. Necrolord Duncan Eternal, ostensibly the most powerful undead in the realms, took a deep breath into his lungs and let out a rather living sounding sigh.
“Something bothering you?”
He looked around his chambers, features shrouded behind a wall of negative force, seeing nothing but knowing he was not alone. “Not bothering me so much as perhaps reminding me of things…long unwelcome.” The timbre of his voice was deep like an ebon baritone, hinting of a greater power. His eyes were darker fields under his cowl but still undefined. “I don’t like things I cannot…control.”
“Hmm. That was always your problem.” The other voice was female, but seemed to match the Necrolord’s, an alto compliment to his deeper tone. There was a playful sound to her voice, but it did not diminish the gravity of her strength. “Is it our visitors?”
“You know it is.”
“You could have had them denied entrance when they first came to Slumber.”
Duncan gave an imperceptible shrug, his shoulders barely rising but it was enough to let his unseen companion know that he was emotional. “I know. I know. But it has been some very long spell of years since anyone from Erylond had come. And adventurers as well.”
“Do you miss it?”
He laughed, a roiling sepulchral sound that was still rich in mirth. “No. Not a chance. Days of hardtack and marching, nights of watches and ambushes. The gritty feel on the back of your teeth after your 6th day on the road. Rooting around the fallen foes for trinkets and body fluids. Cold nights, hot days, and the constant need of oil and torches.” He waved and free hand absently. “No. I do not miss my adventuring days. You know for me they were a means to an end.”
“I know. Better than most.”
“Hmm.” He rose from his chair and moved to a mid-sized table map, his fingers graced the tops of the flags. “The scholar in me knows that there are people like that, unable to adhere to the order of things, ever curious, ever questing. I was one for a time and had many friends, long gone now, who were as well.”
“So the issue is?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You are lying.”
“You are wrong.”
“And now you are being belligerent as well.” Her voice scolded him but there was no malice in it. “The people seem to be appreciative of them and their efforts.”
The Necrolord turned from his map and walked to his bookshelves, gloved fingers tapping the unlabelled spines of the chained tomes. “If it wasn’t for their appreciation, I would have them removed from my lands.”
“Have they broken any laws? Damaged the fabric of society? Stolen away with ill gotten goods?”
“No. None of those things.” He turned and pointed roughly south and west. “They are actually well behaved and have done what they can to fit into our land and our way of doing things. They haven’t abused our good will or trust, and have taken much personal hurt and loss to address the issues my councilors have brought to them.”
“Then what?”
The air around him grew darker and there was an undercurrent of some vibrating sound before it faded away. “It’s the mercenaries and fools that will follow them after they leave here with their bags of lucre.” He walked back to his chair and lowered himself onto the seat. “Adventurers, sellswords, they will come here after seeing the riches there Vanguards have amassed and will want to try their hand and luck within our borders.”
“If that happens, you can address it then.”
Duncan gave a shake of his head. “It’s not that easy. The moment I expel or reprimand some half imbecilic group of murder hoboes, the last 16 years of goodwill we have worked to build up with the other Sovereign Lands as well as the Duchy of Rand ends. We will be once again, ‘that steaming shithole filled with zombies’ and every outreach, trade route, treaty, pact, and contract that goes beyond our borders is in danger.” He spread one hand and pointed behind him. “Grymeria works because of a very rigid structure that I have worked tirelessly to keep in place to keep every citizen here, animate or living, safe, happy and healthy.”
“And they all love you for it.”
“And it can all end after this Captain Asher Reed and his party leave our borders and return to Erylond.”
“You are right. It can.”
“Hmm.” Even under the cowl, it was obvious he was scowling. “I feel a rebuke to that statement coming on.”
“Strange you should mention that,” she answered with a short laugh, “shall we add divinicist to you ever growing list of skills and talents?”
“Make your case. I actually want to be convinced.”
“I know. Let’s take it from after they resolved the issues with the warring bakeries.”
“Adjunct Rawanis had that one as his longest running problem. I’m glad it was taken care of. He deserves a shot at the next election for an Outer Circle seat.”
“That is true.”
“And…the…you know…” The Necrolord’s voice grew uncertain.
“Your problem? What about it?”
“He took care of it. Correct? I don’t know WHERE it is and I am both relieved…and wanting to look upon it one more time.”
“I have heard that he took care of it and testament to him, he has said nothing to anyone about it. The only hint I had heard about it was one of the Woodwards in the Timbers, Larogius, guided the Vanguards deep into the woods and then left them. And that was only noted because he was late returning to Vitalia that day and he logged the encounter.”
“I should ask the Vanguards to check on my property then.”
“Your constant checking and meddling is what brought you to this point and why the edict was issued to seal and spirit the issue away.”
He thumped the desk with his index finger. “Last I checked, I’m the Sovereign here.”
“Last I checked, you come to me for advice and guidance.” Her voice took on a smirking quality. “Behind every strong powerful man, is a woman who is just as equally great.”
His stance softened. “As you often remind me. Thank you.”
“Understood.” She paused for a moment and then resumed. “Anyway, after the bakeries the Vanguards were given a task where they had to resolve the stolen machinery, stores, and product from Goliene the Basketweaver on 3rd and 18th. His entire shop had been robbed of everything and he was in danger of defaulting on his loan contract with Lord Gatraise.”
“A nasty bit of an affair,” Lord Duncan commented. “I have had a meeting with Lord Gatraise a week ago and had to explain to him that the loan contracts should not be manipulated in a way that it unfairly traps the signer in an indentured situation.”
“True. The Vanguards not only uncovered how the machinery was taken, but also the deeper meaning as to the why of it all.”
“Controlling interest in a potential gold mine.”
“Exactly. Their efforts stymied the plot and foiled Lord Gatraise in this matter. And we also learned that there was a corruption of lawfulness in our Constabulary.”
“Something that we had until now been unable to truly identify.” He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “It’s one thing to suspect there is a flaw in the system, it’s another thing to learn of it.”
“Flaws can be fixed.”
“It’s what I do.”
She continued. “After that they were given the next matter to take care of. The betrothal between the Mason and the Chimney family. Leeann Mason of legal age called off her 4 year betrothal to Ostant Chimney and fled the familial estate to take up residence and safety in…”
“Relent.” The Necrolord muttered. “And Lord Recian.”
“Yes. Your longest friendship and trusted companion.”
“Who hated me ever since I became lord here.”
“True. Because he was not given a choice.”
Duncan growled. “If I hadn’t given him some of my life force while in that fucking Hellhole to keep him alive he would have been dead. On his way to Nifelheim and lost. I sacrificed for him.”
“A situation that I am sure weighed on him constantly. Here he was, imbued with the maximum amount of negative energy that can be absorbed into a single form and having the aversion to sunlight, garlic, and the need to feed on blood. He did not see it as a gift.”
“And for that we did NOT talk for 12 years.”
“Until the girl.”
Duncan calmed down. “Until the girl. And once again, the adventuring party.”
“By their actions they had managed to head off an assault on a Lord of Grymeria, certify the love affair between the two figures, Leeann and Lord Recian, and by my count, gave you an audience with your erstwhile friend for the first time in many a years.” Her voice grew softer. “I think that in and of itself should have you also look fondly on the Vanguards.”
“And there was the matter with Irwin Venter next.”
“When an august family that has done so much for Grymeria and you would be torn apart from internal family strife, it shows that your need to have order sometimes causes chaos.”
He whipped his head around and again the air grew dark about him. “That is NOT my intent.”
“Be that as it may, it did indeed happen. You have a personage who demanded to not be raised upon his death nor to be disturbed and through an idly placed request YOU made to him, you circumvented your own laws and made a paradox.”
“Stop it.”
“Chaos.”
“Enough. Don’t chide me.”
“Silencing the truth does not make it any less true.”
He stewed quietly for some time, counting off the ticks of the light clock before finally speaking. “My Inquisitors have made restitution to the families that had been injured and/or slain during Irwin’s rampage.”
“That’s good.”
“And their member, Dizzy, did an admirable job in defusing the situation.”
“Correct.”
“So much so that there is thought from all 12 Inquisitors as to the true nature of Irwin and his current actions, but even they are unsure of the reality of Master Venter’s existence and charge and have adopted Dizzy’s explanation as the fact.”
“So it is ok.”
He sighed again. “Yes and no. It’s a fact based on a false truth. It’s not real.”
“But enough people say it is and to them it is indeed the truth of it. Irwin Venter is not present and it was a singular aberration brought on by his new wife and his offspring.”
“And what if the Vanguards speak of the truth then?”
“My Dear Duncan. The Vanguards of Ragnarok have so far kept your council without you even needing to ask it of them. That should be another point of resolution for you. Regardless of your past experiences, not every adventuring party is in for the gold and glory. There is some honor, some chivalry to them. And it is in their trust that must continue to believe in and have faith in.”
“You speak of faith with a quick tongue,” he grumbled.
“And you know why I speak of it so easily,” came her retort. “Because without it nothing else can follow.” She paused, allowing her words to sink in. “And then they were placed in harm’s way.”
“Not through our direct knowledge.”
“I know. So do you. But they were indeed done so and from what we understand, in the one place that can undo everything you have built here.”
Lord Duncan turned northward, looking through the curtained windows into the night sky. “Shadowthyrst.”
“They went to Gruff to learn as to what was going on with the caravaneers and their seemingly accostings. So close to Merryn’s realm, far past The Dreads, where even the dead go to die. They went there and placed themselves out as bait and were taken.”
“I did not want that to happen to them.”
“No one did. But the Illithid? Operating here? And for how long? Glibtok they called it, a creature once of otherworldly cunning and power but now also twisted with the negative energies that enspelled it. A creature undead, far from the sun, 500 feet below the surface of Shadowthyrst, feasting on the mental energies of your people to constantly try and reach of its home hive and effect a return.”
“I had commissioned a picture from the artist Givraine in Relent of the battle as had been told to Inner Circle Councilor Marrions. I’m going to hang it in the main foyer.”
“Sounds nice.” She paused and continued. “As for the battle, it drained their group. I understand that it was a trying ordeal that bordered on their death.”
He nodded. “And their escape took them through the actual lands of Shadowthyrst.”
“No mean feat. Very few could make that trek.”
Lord Duncan gave a single thump on the desktop with the back of his fist. “Captain Asher and his group did.”
“And once again, they did it and returned broken and hurt, but still able.” She lowered her voice. “So why do you still worry?”
“I worry because it is what I do. I worry about the over 26,000 souls that live in Grymeria. This place is a haven – unlike anything or anywhere else in all the realms. And I don’t want the balance to be upset.”
“You could ask the Vanguards…not…to talk to others of Grymeria. Or perhaps to downplay it.”
He chuckled. “A night of carousing and a sack full of gold when they return to the poverty of Erylond and there will be prying eyes and questioning voices as to their luck and riches. No, the bottle is open and the ink is spilled. It’s up to me to decide if the mess can be cleaned up and contained or if it threatens the rest of the document.”
“A very scholarly way of describing it.”
“I am still a student at my core.”
“True. And now? I understand they are once again, doing heroic things, seeking to affect a rescue of two of your citizens who had been taken against their will to Freemantle.”
Again, the air grew dark and the sounds around him vibrated strangely. “Spencer Thirdson. Avatar of Freya. How DARE he condone this assault? If it occurs once, what’s to say it won’t happen again?”
“You made your concern to Inner Circle Councilor Marrions very plainly.”
“And the man wrote a note. A note!? How was THAT going to fix the problem?”
“Then once again, it’s a good thing that Captain Asher and his people are here to take care of this.”
Lord Duncan Eternal, again the most powerful undead entity in the realm, sat back in his chair and seemed to deflate. “Is it wrong of me to hope that the matter escalates? Is it wrong of me to want the miscreants to be slain?”
“You made a vow to do no harm.”
“I know what I did.” He paused and scratched the surface of the desk with a gloved nail. “But even so, even if it is not my hand, can I feel…pleasure…in the hope and knowledge that those who dare to trespass against my people are made to pay? And made to pay painfully?”
The other voice was quiet for some time, only the faint ticking of the Nightwood’s clock sounding off. Eventually, after many minutes of silence, her voice returned and said simply. “Yes. Yes you can.”
He shuddered and lowered his head. “Thank you.”
“Any time. It’s that…passion…that should give you comfort…that no matter how long you have been the Necrolord, that deep down inside, you are still…Human.”
He gave a single bark of laughter. “Bite your tongue.” He sighed and straightened hiss robe and cowl. “Thanks for the talk. I have work to do still. There is a need for…adventurers here in Grymeria. And I am drawing up some plans for how I’d like the Councilors to design the guild. These Vanguards, they have lit a spark here that some of my people…those who are too restricted by the order I prefer. To exercise a small bit of chaos and mirror their ways and manners.”
“That is a good thing.” Her voice faded a bit as if she was leaving, the distance growing. “I’ll leave you to your work then. Will you meet with them upon their return?”
“Whether they are successful or not. Yes. I will.” He straightened a piece of parchment in front of him, squaring the edge with the blotter beneath. “I will make arrangements to do so.” He tapped a fresh quill into the open inkpot and proceeded to write.
“That is good. Don’t stay up too long,” her voice chided him playfully.
“Thank you…Mother,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Any time…son.”
And then it was quiet again except for the scritching of his quill and the tick tick tick of the clock on the mantle.
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