The Prodigal Wizard
Session Thirteen of the Notoriety of Kings Campaign

Vítday, 43 Brightday 204 [continued]

The party begin to think and think fast. They know they cannot go into the camp. Their unwillingness to enter the camp (the only safe place for miles around) makes the soldiers suspicious. They believe that the party must have something to hide and guesses that they are probably criminals. Their confidence in the group is not heightened by Nicos and Elias’ brilliant idea of avoiding contact with the captain by pretending to be simpletons. They head-butt one another, and try to convince the guards that Raza is a madman and that he sees dragons everywhere, and no-one should take anything they say seriously. Suffice to say that they are not 100% convincing. Fortunately, in the end, the party persuades the guards that they are in a hurry because of Narramac’s quest, and have to press on. They suggest that Brack goes into camp, as a ranger he will be able to impart the most useful information to Skellig. The rest of the group will press on. The guards quickly discuss matters amongst themselves and agree. Brack is led in a large camp of several hundred armed soldiers a little way from the track the group was following as the rest of the party gallop off into the darkness as fast as their horse’s legs will carry them.

The soldier leaves Brack and then heads into a grand tent to speak with Captain Skellig. Minutes later he emerges and shows Brack into the tent. Seating behind a desk are the angular Captain Skellig and Archnecrotain Varamil of the Watchers in Northmeet. Varamil regards Brack sternly utilising his Mortis-gifted ability to detect lies. Brack is uncomfortable as he introduces himself and answers all of Skellig’s questions. When asked his name Brack says, “Dascar”, which is not a good start against someone who knows all of Brack’s lies before he does. When Skellig begins to ask about the rest of the party, whether they are criminals or not, Brack finds himself weaving other untruths and he is waiting for Varamil to pick him up on it. In the end the Watcher does nothing. Skellig thanks Brack for his time and says it is sorry that the dwarf hasn’t the courage to help them slay Furnice. He offers Brack some water from the canteen before he goes and the interview.

While Brack takes some water for himself and his horse he is approached by Archnecrotain Varamil. “What is your real name?” the Watcher asks firmly of him. Brack pretends not to know what the cleric is talking about, so Varamil continues wearily. “On the thirteenth of this month five individuals escaped from Castle Northmeet. Among them was a girl called Ravenna who is partially responsible for the current animosity between the Watchers and the Church of Fire. Quelator, Duke Colharn’s friend and wizard, sent out his familiar – a golden eagle – to search out escapees. They were spotted on the North Uris Road heading toward the capital, although they were not seen entering the city. A dwarf was amongst them. There are not many dwarves involved in Narramac’s quest. I know that you are the dwarf that the eagle saw. What is your name?” Brack says it is Ogrebane, Varamil nods and continues. “Very well, Ogrebane, let me tell you this: Captain Skellig has taken the matter of the escape from Castle Northmeet very personally. He is almost insane with rage about the matter. If he discovered that the individuals who just rode around his camp were the escapee he would take this entire army and send it after them. I cannot allow that. Furnice is too great a threat to allow Skellig to do that, and so I am letting you go. Take this with you: I know who you are, and I will be able to find you. Ravenna may well be the key to ending this trouble with the Church of Fire, but she is not important enough to jeopardise this hunt for. I have been searching for Furnice for most of my adult life and I will not stop now. Be on your way, Ogrebane. There will be Watchers waiting for you at the Village of the Eighteen Churches.”

The rest of the party and Quelator travel as fast as they can until dawn, although they are forced to slow as the unskilled Ravenna and Raza keep falling off their horses. The camp down for the day in heavy undergrowth in the shadow of a large tor, hoping that Brack will be able to catch up with them.

Terday, 44 Brightday 204

Brack does indeed find them, and the ranger is roots them out of their hiding place by mid morning. The group rests the day away at their camp, Raza engaging Quenqurial in a long philosophical discussion about the nature of godhood. Raza is interested that Io sees himself as a creator but not a god to worshipped. He considers this an oxymoron. Quenqurial is mildly amused by Raza’s philosophy and contentedly takes the opposing viewpoint for a little while, until Nicos joins the discussion and both lose the will to carry on. “You are an interesting mortal,” Quenqurial says of the monk.

Just after midnight the party leave the moorland and head out onto the open plain. The plain leads to woodland and the beyond the woodland is Oakholme and the North Timberlake Road that will take them to Mount Korvast. As they head across the plain the sharp-eyed Brack catches sight of two gnolls who are sizing the party up with a short bow. Arvan, Brack, Elias and Raza rush to attack them. As they do so a further six gnolls rush the party from behind preparing to despatch Ravenna and Nicos with speed. The plan is a good one but does horribly wrong thanks the the party’s skill and the gnoll’s bad luck. All the ambushers are killed without any members of the party being injured. The group is immediately suspicious of how easy things were.

By the end of the night they reach the edge of the woodland. It will take three days to cross. They decide to stagger their sleep patterns so that by the time they emerge on the other side they are sleeping by night and walking by day.

Zephday, 45 Brightday 204

The group presses off early before it is dark. In the dying light of the day they come across a large stagnant pong with the bodies of goblins and orcs floating within it. They have died by violence (the cuts and slashes of swords are obvious) and their corpses are being feasted upon by stirges – giant mosquito-like creatures as big as an eagle. They give them a wide berth and press on towards their destination.

Ravenna cannot believe that they are going to have to go anywhere near the Village in order to inscribe the egg. After Varamil’s warning, she is worried that she’ll be captured by the Watchers before the quest can be completed. Elias suddenly starts beating his head against a tree. He bought a disguise kit in Uris all those weeks ago! It has ink, dyes and brushes within it. They can inscribe the egg themselves! Pausing in their journey they write “The answer to Curmudgeon’s riddle,” on the side of the egg in Norandon. Ravenna breaths a sigh of relief, although they will still have to take the road via the Village to get there in time.

Caladay, 46 Brightday 204

At lunchtime a bear wanders into the middle of the party’s camp and begins to rummage through their food supply. Arvan advises that they leave the creature be and after a few minutes it has satisfied its apetite and strolls back into the forest with a certain arrogant swagger. By this day, less than half their journey is in darkness.

Sharday, 47 Brightday 204

A half-hearted attack by an assassin-vine is easily thwarted by the group who are getting so close to their destination that they can almost taste it. Something else that Nicos can feel is the waning of Calafax. The moon goes dark on the 49th, and he will be virtually powerless for a week. By the time they camp the group is very near to the northern-most limit of the woodland. All day they have been hearing the sounds of other travellers in the woodland, although they have seen no-one. Raza counsels that they should take care to hide the items they are carrying as there will undoubtedly be thieves who wish to take them.

Morday, 48 Brightday 204

At last! They are back to travelling by the day, and leave the forest first thing in the morning. After an hours travel they come to a large area of scorched ground. Nicos recognises it as the place where he and Minsc watched Furnice toast all those questors six weeks ago. That means that they must only be about half a mile from Osroth Manor. Ravenna looks determinedly in that direction.

“We don’t have time!” exclaims Elias. Ravenna says that she has to find Honour, and see that she’s all right. It has all ready been too long since they abandoned her. “It is a matte of honour!” she says with half-grin. “And besides, it’s only half an hour away.” Elias is determined that they should press on. They don’t have time to get entangled with Constable Trench and his forces. Ravenna only agrees if the rest of the party promise to come back with her to Oakholme as soon as the quest is over. She makes Elais swear to do so on his faith. He reluctantly agrees, knowing that he has probably been suckered into a one-way ticket back to the dungeon of Castle Northmeet.

The party continues. They don’t take the path straight to the Nort Uris Road as that would take them via Oakholme (a bad thing) instead they hug the south of the road, travelling from copse to copse. Shortly before lunch they hear a crashing from a small growth of trees. Within moments, two figures burst out of the trees in front of them. One is a young human, tall and aquiline; the other is a short and very smelly gnome with long, plaitted nasal hair. “Alessandre’s party!” Elias says with some degree of satisfaction, recognises Mortimer and Nosuch from the bard’s description.

“Help us!” cries Mortimer. “We’re being pursued by thieves! They are trying to steal the water we collected from the bottom of the Great Sea!” Moments later five pursuers also emerge. One is a human flying the colours of King Yaddagon and dressed in highly polished plate armour, the second is a half-orc a head higher than Arvan; the third is dressed in the habit of a monk; the fourth is a priest of the church of the land; the fifth is a Watcher who eyes Nicos with suspicion. “Stay where you are!” calls the man in plate armour arrogantly. “Identify yourselves to me!” Nicos asks him (rather impolitely) who the hell he is. This seems to offend the man greatly who takes a step forward. “You do not know who I am? I am Iltilmus! Right hand of Alberdark, favourite son of the Norandor Court and heir to the duchy of Kemelicus!” Ravenna moves to speak. “Silence, peasent,” Iltilmus says.

Iltilmus goes on to state that it is Mortimer and Nosuch who are the thieves. They stole the water that Iltilmus had collected himself. They deserve to die, but he will settle for arrest and incarceration. From the devastatingly-poor acting skills of Nosuch, it is obvious that Iltilmus is the one who is telling the truth. The party is ready to abandon them to their fate, but Nicos is having none of it. Remembering the debt they owe to Alessadre he shouts, “We can’t leave them. These guys got us out of Northmeet!”

Every single member of the party looks at Nicos, as the impact of his words sinks slowly into Iltilmus. “You are criminals then,” he says drawing his sword. “You are all under arrest!” There is a slight pause in efforts to quell this dangerous situation as everyone brow-beats Nicos, pointing out his alarming list of faults (and in some cases, those of his parents). Ravenna looks at Elias. Elias shakes his head, and remembers that he has more than enough of the required water to share with Mortimer and Nosuch. “Give them back the water,” he says to Mortimer. The wizard is unwilling, but Ravenna quickly charms him. Now, unfortunately, Iltilmus is disinclined to accept the water back. He wants to arrest anyone. The monk, Yargon, bends down to him and points out that they are in a hurry to get to Korvast in time, and really don’t have time for a confrontation.

Iltilmus is unconvinced until the sound horses reaches the assembled. The neat-bearded Alexi (clad in black plate armour) and Scintile, cleric of the Arcanum Incognita, appear on the scene. Alexi carries a certain presence that is initimidating to all, but he doesn’t want to fight saying that Mortimer and Nosuch have brought shame on him and that they must return the water immediately. With pressure from Alexi and Ravenna’s magic Mortimer returns the water to Iltilmus. He has been persuaded that a conflict at this point would not be worth it, but it is obvious that he isn’t happy. His parting shot makes him sound like an obstreperous child more than a nobleman. “I will not forget this!” he waves his finger at all of them. “You have not heard the last of this, or of me!” With that he takes his group back the way they came leaving the party, Alexi, Scintila, Nosuch and Mortimer alone.

After they have made sure Iltilmus has gone, Elias offers Alexi one of the spare skins of water he took from the bottom of the Great Sea. He explains that they owe Alessandre a favour. “Oh you are that group,” Alexi says. “My thanks. Our water was stolen from us some time ago. I would never condone the actions of these two, however. Theft is beneath an honourable man.” Elias also gives Alexi the 40 crowns that the party owe the bard. “Tell Alessandre that we are even; and that I’m sorry we can’t see her.” Alexi nods. There is a mutual understanding that the groups should not travel together.

As they turn to leave, Mortimer asks where Alessandre is. “She is breaking the camp with Jakil,” Alexi says. Mortimer is agog. “You left Alessandre and Jakil alone? Together?! Oh no!” he runs off into the woodland. Elias feels a nasty shudder as he waves goodbye to Alexi’s group, but he cannot thing of Alessandre now. They must get to Korvast is time. Soon the party is on the Hadradan road, and they spend a quiet (if uncomfortable) night sleeping with dozens of other questors around a backed waystation. They keep watch lest someone tries to steal the items they have taken so much time and trouble in gathering.

Sunday, 49 Brightday 204

By the time they leave they realise that they have less than a day to reach the summit of the mountain! There horses clatter down the road to the Village of the Eighteen Churches as fast as they can go, with the enormous crowds that are descending on the area. Eventually they leave the road to Northmeet, travelling along a inadequate track that goes directly to the Village. About an hour before dusk the Village looms up in front of them. It is (again) packed with people. An enormous queue is issuing from the gates that the party find themselves flung into. They try and fight their way to the edge, having every intention of taking to the forest around the Village rather than going any nearer toward it and giving the Watchers a chance to spot them.
As they are bustled through the crowd another horse enters their group. The rider throws back her hood to reveal Alessandre. She has left her group briefly to perform in town this evening. She would love the party to come and watch here – especially Elias. Elias suddenly seems to be in physical pain at the conflicting emotions that are assailing him. Nicos immediately agrees, but is talked out of it by the rest of the party. Elias just can’t bring himself to say “no” to Alessandre, regardless of the time or the danger or the fact that he wouldn’t let Ravenna go and find Honour. Eventually he has to whisper to Ravenna to charm him, so that he can be persuaded out of entering the Village. Alessandre seems genuinely upset, and clatters away without saying goodbye.

It takes almost four hours to circumvent the Village, but once beyond it the group makes all due speed for Korvast. It is now dark, and they know that they have a long climb ahead of them – even if there are steps for most of the journey. After two hours they come to the foot of the mountain and discover that a large open-air inn and stable has been hasily erected in the shadow of Korvast. As they approach a hobbit runs out toward them.

The hobbit introduces himself as Holwell Bobbin, and says that he has the honour of welcoming the successful questors to Mount Korvast. The party have little time for his selling pitch, and no intention of having any food or drink. They will, however, stable their horses with him. He asks the mighty sum of five crowns per horse, plus an extra crown for each day he keeps the horse beyond the fifth. The party are reluctant to pay such a sum, but Holwell has rather cornered the market, and they have no choice if they wish to see their horses again. Giving the reins to the hobbit and leaving the name ‘Juilian’ they head toward the mountain on foot.

The climb is long and hard, but not too dangerous. There are steps, ledges and swinging rope bridges for most of the ascent, and they would have made it to the top much sooner if Nicos hadn’t claimed he knew the way and led them in the wrong direction twice. Nicos seems genuinely awed by this place: it is, after all, the holiest spot of all the moon gods’ religions. As it is they make the final climb and reach the top about four hours before dawn. They have made it!

The top of Mount Korvast is a vast plateau of bear rock. Fires burn up here, and many dozens of people shelter against the cold. They are more than five thousand feet up, after all. The party takes a good look around at the, the eyes of the other questors regarding them closely, but the group recognises no-one. They quickly get themselves into a reasonably defensible position and begin the wait until dawn. Brack begins to dig a large hole as Nicos potters around from camp to camp steal bits of wood to create a fire of his own. The party manage to talk him out of the idea of popping back down the path and stealing all the slats from the rope bridges to create an even larger fire, and the cleric makes do with what he has.

Tedious and freezing are two words that cannot be used enough to describe the wait. More questors emerge up the path as the night draws on, but the party take solace that their single-mindedness has put them at least five hours ahead of all their enemies. Ahead of all their enemies and Alessandre, but Elias had no choice. At least Ravenna’s charm spell wears off.

The party has just thought they are going to make it with no further hassle when they see a group of familiar figures approaching them. The paladins Garnir, Zender, Lowron, Cardon and Patricia stride purposefully over to the group. There seems to be a look of twisted glee on Garnir’s face; Patricia stands determined by the knight, while the other three look unnaturally grave. The cleric, Inictious, is hanging around behind them saying nothing and doing less. Nicos takes the opportunity to wander off, not particularly wanting a confrontation with the paladins. Garnir steps forward, and immediately gets to the point.

“We have heard the tale of the murders you have committed, and that you are fugitives from the King’s justice. I am therefore placing you under arrest. Your quest is over.” The group immediately begins to protest, but Garnir will not be gainsaid on the matter – he is as stubborn and arrogant as ever. The other paladins – even Lowron and Zender – are siding with Garnir on this. “You must realise that a matter such as this cannot be ignored,” says Lowron. “You attacked a squire and murdered two men. I know that you had your reasons, but they do not condone your actions. You must stand trial for your crimes. However, I am prepared to act as your advocate when this matter is brought before Duke Colharn. The truth will out.” The party are grateful to Lowron for his fair-mindedness (for a paladin), although Garnir scoffs at the gesture. However, trying to convince Garnir to let them just finish the quest is met with implacable resistance from the knight. He sees they have forfeited all right to it by their conduct in Oakholme. Ravenna accuses Garnir of just wanting them out of the way, but Garnir rides over her objections. Things are obviously starting to get a little nasty and, regardless of what else they have overcome, the party do not believe that they can prevail against the paladins in a straight fight. But as Garnir moves to take them into custody there is a glimmer of light on the horizon. The summit of Mount Korvast is bathed in a pink glow. It is dawn.

Vítday, 1 Suntask 204

For a second longer, as the warmth of the early morning sun touches the barren rocks, Garnir continues to square off with the party. Suddenly it becomes apparent that they, and everyone else who is assembled, are staring past the party. Slowly the group turns in nervous anticipation.

Folded on a rock at the edge of the precipice, looking for all intents and purposes like a badly packed bag, sits an old man. He has no regal bearing, no firm chin or flowing robes. His straggly grey hair and unkempt beard are tugged by the mountain wind as he smiles toothlessly at you. The figure leans heavily on a gnarled staff, which he draws absentmindedly across the ground. When he speaks it is with an old emphesemic voice, heavy with bile.

“This is where it all began,” he gestures to a bear an uprising of stone behind the assembled. “That’s where he stood; where Uros stood. Raised his hand to the sky and begged greater powers to intercede for him. If you believe in that sort of thing of course.”

The speech has stunned the assembled into silence. Narramac quietly reaches up and pulls a tattered dog-end from behind his ear. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it intently for a moment. The end catches alight, he smiles, and then takes a long and obviously welcome drag. He grins serenely, then degenerates into a brief, but violent coughing fit, spitting black bile onto the ground. It is too much for Garnir who steps forward. “You are not Narramac!” the paladin says. “Narramac was a strong and nobleman. You are nothing but a peasant. Where is the wizard? Where -"

Garnir is cut off by a gesture from Narramac. He is frozen completely still by obviously powerful magicks. Narramac turns his hand and Garnir rotates a further 180 degrees to stop in the same position, but upside down hovering just a fraction above the ground. Narramac continues:

“I can see that Sir Garnir of the Order of the Roaring Lion is as notorious an old windbag as his reputation has led me to believe. Is there any one else here who believes I am not the one you seek?” Silence is Narramac’s only answer. He takes another long drag. “Very well. I see that you have all laboured hard for the past month and brought the stuff I asked. Funny how some of you couldn’t follow the simplest of instructions, though. A wyvern egg taken when Vítaeous is full means just that, did you think I wouldn’t know? Also I asked for a skin of water from the bottom of the Great Sea. A skin. Not a bottle, not a flask, not a barrel. Was that really so hard? Anyway, what’s done is done. All of you risked much, some of you lost much. Many of the people who left here a month ago aren’t here today. Some gave up. Some are dead. That’s the way it is, of course. Everyone dies. But men aren’t measured by their deaths, no matter what the Church of Contention might think, they’re measured by their lives. That’s what’s important. Your lives and how you live it.” Narramac shakes his head. “An end to this. I’m rambling. So, which of you won?”

Immediately, hubbub erupts as a hundred people begin talking at once, attempting to convince the wizard that they are the victors of the contest. Narramac sits quietly on his rock, not saying anything to anyone for five minutes, just listening to the assembled. When it becomes obvious that the wizard isn’t going to make a reply to them, the voices become muted until eventually there is silence on the plateau. Narramac scans the crowd slowly. His rheumy eyes are incredibly piercing as he looks intently on each and every questor. He catches the eye of the party more keenly than most, looking at them for an extended time. He smiles briefly then moves on. At length he settles back down on his rock, re-lights his dog-end and nods gravely. “It is decided then!” he exclaims.

Narramac waves his hand in a grand gesture. Every questor on the mountain top apart from the party are frozen just like Garnir, although it takes the group a little while to realise this fact. Narramac beckons to them. “Come on, come on. You won!” They come toward him and he looks at them. His expression is a mixture of gravity and sorrow. “You have done so very well,” he says. “We won’t be needing these any more.” With another gesture the rest of the questors disappear from the mountain-top. Narramac and the party are alone.

The party are really too excited to say very much at this point. They have triumphed over all the questors – most at which were significantly more proficient than the group. Narramac is every inch an irascible old wizard, as he looks at them for the first time. “Elias Raithborne, Ravenna, Nicos Allumière, Brack Kurast, Arvan Walker-in-Shadows,” Raza looks a little nervous, “Raza de Luna!” Narramac winks at the monk. “I’ve enjoyed watching your adventures very much. I’ve particularly enjoyed watching you,” he claps his hand on Nicos’ shoulder. “I told you you shouldn’t have done that with Baron Dolanz,” Elias whispers to the cleric. Narramac walks past them over to Quenqurial and gazes into the non-face of the prismatic dragon. “I bid you welcome, and offer you the protection of the Great Pact. Where you tread there is peace,” Narramac says bowing. Quenqurial nods in return and Narramac turns back to the party. “I’m sure you all have many questions for me, and I will give you the answers I can. However, let’s not hang around up here all day. I’m freezing my arse off!”

With that the old wizard gestures and the stone he was sitting on rolls aside. Beneath it are steps leading down into the mountain. Nicos bites his tongue at the obvious sacrilege and the group descends below the surface. Within moments they are in a stone chamber that has been pleasantly warmed by magic. There are a number of soft chairs in the room. Before collapsing into one of them, Narramac turns to Quenqurial. “I know we have much to discuss,” he said. “But if we may talk in a moment.” Quenqurial nods and moves to leave. He turns and looks at the party, realises that he has nothing to say and departs. Narramac ushers the group to sit.

“Well. He says. I suppose I’d better see what you’ve brought,” and holds out his hands for the items they have collected. He tastes the water, and nods with authority that it is truly from the bottom of the Great Sea. He smiles at the what the group had written on the egg. “Oh very clever. I only wanted ‘a stick’, you know.” Then he asks them about the secret known to no other soul. Ravenna says that they have secrets, but if they told Narramac then they wouldn’t be secret any more. The wizard smiles and nods. “Good, good. He says,” re-lighting his dog-end. He offers some of the tobacco to Nicos who lights it, takes a swift drag and almost passes out. “Good stuff!” he splutters unable to speak. “We want a lifetime supply of this stuff,” says Elias.

Narramac says that they may now ask him any questions that they wish. He will answer as truthfully as he can, but there are some questions that he cannot answer – some things he cannot say. He looks at the group thoughtfully. The questions come thick and fast, but it is not the quest that the party asks Narramac about first, they want to know things about themselves.

First he looks at the magic items they have gathered on their travels. Ravenna’s magic box is self-explanatory, her pendant a means for an individual to locate her. Ravenna takes comfort in the fact that Derriac can find her. Elias’ ring is a minor protective magic, his sword dates from before the arrival of the Hadradans, when the human civilisations were at war with giants. He says that is particularly effective against true giants and ogres. Brack’s ears immediately prick up. He wants that sword. Then Raza shows him the crown they found in the Barrowmoor. “Why have you bought the spirit of an undead barrow king into my home?” Narrmac asks matter-of-factly. He commands Raza to put the crown down on the stone floor. Using his staff Narramac atomised the item before their eyes. Nicos then produces the bag with the swords believed to have been possessing the ranger, Josepp. This time, Narrmac is not so blasé. He looks very worried. “Put them down and do not touch them!” he commands. “They are evil artefacts from the Úngorn,” he explains. “They are beyond my power to destroy.” At this the party take an involuntary step away from the swords. Narramac takes the handles of the bag on the end of his staff and casts the items into a dark corner. “I’ll deal with them later,” he explains. “I know others who have the power to destroy them. Now, your questions…..”

Narramac tells them what they know. He tells Arvan that both his parents and his grandfather still live. He is surprised to learn that the druids sense a darkness coming, but says that it is not his place to talk directly with the Order. He says that he does not know the whereabouts of Ravenna’s parents or her mentor Derriac. Derriac is concealed by some powerful magic, Narramac says. Neither can he help Nicos in his search for Rio, for he is not omniscient (regardless of what his reputation may be). He calls Raza unique, and unlike other men but he cannot tell him why this is the case. Narrmac had not heard of Elias’ homeland and is concerned by the presence of a large dragon there. He promises to find out what is going on for Elias, and to report to him the details as soon as possible. Narramac sits back and looks at them. “Soon you will have the power to discover these answers for yourselves. The one thing you will walk away from this mountain with, beyond any new magical might, is influence. When you speak, people will listen. You will have the contacts and the false friends enough to find all the information you seek. Now, ask on.”

The questions turn to the nature of the quest and why Narramac is doing it in the first place. “Why?” he asks, “A grand gesture for a grand re-entrance back into the world of men. I have been cloistered away these long years, I have no allies in the world. The power I offer makes you my allies, my eyes and ears in the outside world. It is not a power I can wield myself and I would have it out there thwarting evil than sitting here gathering dust.” Narramac is telling the truth but obviously not the whole truth. He says that the purpose of the quest was to “separate the worthy from the unworthy. It was not what you did, but how you did it. Time and again you proved to be worthy of the power. You stopped to help Honour when there was an opportunity to gain a tooth of Gerrius, you stayed your hand and did not harm Misgon or Drasha, you helped Ragginbone escape the cells of Northmeet even though he slowed you down. You have the right hearts, and the right minds. That is why you won.”

Throughout their discussions it is evident that Narrmac is not telling the party everything he knows. But, to his credit, he does not conceal this fact from the party. When Arvan asks him whether he has knowledge of the great threat that Archdruid Tular has spoken of, he says that he does, but he will not tell the party what it is. When they ask who Andel is, the wizard says, “Andel is an ally of mine. Our goals are one, although we do not always see eye to eye in these matters.” He does not say any more though prodded. As to Ragginbone, he admits that Ragginbone is a ‘conceit’ of his. Not truly him in person, but ambulant – something like an homunculus. Ravenna is pleased that she spotted the help the wizard provided. Narramac says that he knew the group would not escape Castle Northmeet without his help, and he wanted them back on the road. He though they had potential. He was proved right it this assumption.

The questions continue with Narramac not revealing a tremendous amount more. Eventually he says that it is time to show them their reward, and he leads them from this chamber, down a rough corridor to the doorway of another room. There is a white light from beyond, glowing around the cracks in the doorway. He lights up and offers a drag to Nicos. Then he regards them in all seriousness.

“I have answered your questions, now you must hear me out. The power I offer is in the next chamber. This is it. This is the real thing. These aren’t paltry magical trinkets like the sword you carry or the pendant you wear; these are items of power forged a millennia ago by the most accomplished craftsmen on the planet, imbued with magic by the most powerful arcanists. This doorway marks your last chance to turn back, to give up on the quest and return to your normal lives. If you accept, if you take this power then do not be deceived: you will be changed forever. You will never rest. For your remaining lives there will always be someone begging you for aid, or someone plotting to take from you what you have won. But you can do a lot of good. More than you could possibly imagine. You will have the power, and influence you only dreamed off. It comes at a price: and that price are your lives as they are now. Decide. You must all be in agreement, for there are six boons to be had and they must not be separated. Decide. It must be all of you, or none of you.”

Narramac’s words rest heavily on the group. Brack, Ravenna, Elias and Nicos quickly agree. The thoughtful Arvan is not so hasty. “Would you take it?” he asks of Narramac. The wizard looks close to tears. “Knowing what you know, I would. Knowing what I know…. I would not,” he turns away from them. “That is as honest as can be with you.” Arvan considers his words carefully, but he too agrees to the power and to the price. Raza says that he believes that fate guides everyone’s lives. That everyone in this chamber is here because they should be here. He says that he has no choice, and so he chooses to stand by his companions. Narramac nods and leads them into the room beyond.

The chamber is empty except for a massive stone dais that rises from the floor. A dazzling column of light rises from the dais to the ceiling almost sixty feet above. Suspended in the column of light are six longswords. They shine with a holy energy that radiates good and purity about the chamber. The group cannot help but gulping in a breath of a air in awe of the sight. Narramac whispers that they are more than swords. They contain the power of ages within them. He then says to the group that they must choose. One by one they must go up and select a sword. Although, he confesses, the swords themselves will do much of the choosing.

Ravenna steps forward first. She enters the light and raises her hand. The swords shimmer, and then one descends to her grasp. As it touches her hand the blade shrinks and the weapon turns into an elegant dagger. Brack follows her, repeating the process. His sword turns into a dwarven axe. Nicos retrieves a longsword, Arvan a scimitar, Raza a kukri and Elias a longsword. Held this close together, the blade shine with a great light, they stand looking at one another and at Narramac.

Narramac says that the swords choose someone to complement their own abilities (or contrast with them if appropriate). The swords are made of silvery metal that even Brack does not recognise. They are covered in runes that none of them can read. “But what do they do?” asks Elias. Narrmac rather unhelpfully points out that the group has been solving puzzles for the last month and that they should consider this a further challenge to their skills. He will say that the swords are at their most potent when held close together. Stray more than a hundred or so yards away from each other and the sword will be diminished. Also, he tells Raza to hand his gift to Elias. When he does, the blade of the kukri vanishes into the hilt. Elias throws it to Nicos, who tosses it to Brack. The blade does not activate for them. Only when it is returned to Raza does it scream into life. “You are bound to the weapons,” says Narramac. “They will only function to the chosen.” The group experiment with putting down their blades and picking them up. Narramac speaks:

“These weapons are amongst the most potent artefacts ever created, but only while they are together. Their powers are greatly diminished when the blades are separated. The six of you who stand together now must always stand together if you are to be a force for good. Divided, you will be easily conquered by your enemies. Together you will be a force to be reckoned with. But these swords carry a price, and that price is in your new fame. You cannot leave this place and simply drop into obscurity. It could not be done. Everyone will want something from you. Many will claim to be your friends; most of those will be lying. When you leave this place you must choose your allies carefully, and make enemies sparingly (as antithetical to your nature as this may be). King Yaddagon is an old man, but his mind is young. You can trust him. The others….. I am not so sure of. Uris is at the heart of it. Go there and you will find yourself moving in circles you could never expect; you will have the influence to solve whatever personal matters drive you. You will have the notoriety of kings….. but stay true to yourselves and to each other. Stay together, fight against the darkness when it comes...."

Narramac seems weak and tired. He says that they must leave, return to the world, he will remain in the mountain. But how will they contact him? Narramac says that he will find them again when the time is right. “Wait!” yells Elias as Narramac is about to dismiss them. The bowman has thought of another question. “The columns where the wyverns were – what were those things?” Narramac pauses, as if contemplating his answer carefully. “Discover the secret of Cyryth Allavoraen and you will have your answer,” he says cryptically. And now you must be gone.

With a gesture the group materialise at the bottom of Mount Korvast. Assembled before them are hundreds of onlookers and questors who were banished from the top of the mountain by Narramac. They look at the party with awe. They all still have their blades drawn, and they are engulfed in a nimbus of light of about sixty feet in diameter. The six stand with their backs to the mountain regarding the scene. They feel very vulnerable. Suddenly, above them, the stone of Mount Korvast begins to change and grind until it forms the face of Narramac, exactly as it did one month ago. The mouth speaks.

“Elias Raithborne! Nicos Allumière! Brack Ogrebane! Ravenna Tannesh! Arvan Walker-in-Shadows! Raza de Luna! Know that they are the victors of the grand quest. They are the Chosen of Narramac, and they are under my protection!”

With that the face disappears in to the rock, leaving the party, leaving The Chosen of Narramac alone to their new lives. The crowd looks at them expectantly, each one knows their name. The wizard was right. Nothing will ever be the same again.

The end of The Prodigal Wizard
The adventures of the Chosen of Narramac continue in From Humble Acorns
Minsc returns in The Seventh Sword

Prodigal Wizard Index | Previous Session | Next Session