Against the Stone Thief

The following is a result of Nidalru spending her 6 (conflicted) with the Elf Queen to find out about a rite or weapon to be used against the Stone Thief:

Upon arriving in Eldolan, you go to the inn that you set up in last time you were here, when you were summoned by Therilsa Stormhand. It seems so long ago. Before too long, Lawrence, the seargent in the Silver Shields that you know, comes by to check in. Word of your deeds has obviously reached Eldolan, and the city seems happy to have you return. More than once, Lawrence mentions how, even if you are from Hildebrande, your heroic careers began here.

It’s nice to be fought over, thinks Nidalru.

But Lawrence isn’t here just on business. Accompanying him is Master Fenorin, a professor at the Mithral School of Magic. Fenorin is a high elf, and asks if Nidalru will accompany him back to his school. The rest of the group mention they will be seeking out Elsa and Odessa to look into Legion‘s condition, so NIdalru agrees to go.

Fenorin mentions that, as soon as word spread that the Hildes (Nidalru corrects him on the name) had arrived, he knew he had to seek them out for their…expertise…in surviving the Stone Thief. “Because you see,” he said with concern in his voice, “we have discovered a plot within our school.”

Nidalru arched an eyebrow. The professor nodded. “Human, of course.”

“Of course.”

“We have him in custody, in partnership with the Silver Shields; they were only too happy to have an ‘outside consultant’ take charge of this. I’d like you to speak with the man we have taken…he speaks gibberish as far as we’re concerned.”

“Does he make no sense at all? Even for a fanatical human?”

Fenorin frowned. “He keeps mentioning ‘the Devourer’ and the ‘Hungry God.'”

Nidalru took in a sharp intake of breath, never breaking stride. “Take me to him.”

He was being held in an unused office. Two Silver Shield guards stood at the outside along with a handful of mages from the school. Some looked at Nidalru with gratitude as she strode in. Others, with disdain; hating that an outsider (and a non-mage, to boot!) needed to come in. Others still, with a mixture of admiration and lust. There was no reaction Nidalru hadn’t received before, and so ignored them all. Fenorin brought her into the room and protested only a bit when the dark elf demanded she be alone with the prisoner.

Manacled behind a desk was an older human male, balding, with pale skin and watery eyes. He wore the clothes of a custodian. Fenorin had filled in Nidalru about the circumstances of his discovery…it reminded her of Harrowdale.

“What’s your name?”

A chuckle. “It doesn’t matter.”

Nidalru smiled, a thin, dangerous grin. “Won’t you tell me, though? I positively hate torturing strangers.”

The chuckle returned, followed by a rasping cough. “I’m not afraid to die.”

“If you’re not afraid, tell me your name then.”

“Why? Even if I did, would you see me? You look at me, and you do not see me. Why should you? I am a servant, a porter in this school for wizards. There are a thousand thousand more wonderful and beautiful things to see here than a quiet man who carries baskets of robes down to the cellars to be washed. Students go to and fro, carrying their books of spells and gossiping in whispers about their classmates, and they pay no attention to me. Wizards go to and fro, talking in low tones about some intrigue in Horizon, and they do not notice me. You do not notice me.

I have dreamed of your destruction. They are not my dreams—the Masters sent them to me. In the dreams, they taught me how to make the shrine in the cellar, how to chant the rites of calling. Soon, the god will come and devour this house of wizardry.

And as it steals the school, as you all flee before its glory, as you weep that some enemy has struck you with a most unexpected attack, you still will not see me. Why should you? I am a servant, a servant of Secret Masters. And, like any good servant, I am ready to die for those I serve.”

The old man’s response left her cold. She left the room and met with Feronin. “Did you tear that shrine apart?” she asked with some urgency.

“Yes, of course.”

She nodded. Would that be enough, though? When the tiefling witch Jaleh had summoned the Stone Thief to Harrowdale, it involved a sacrifice; she had intended it to be the farmer’s boy, but it had ended up being her. Feronin had assured Nidalru that no student has gone missing recently; after the business with the Seekers of the Lost, Eldolan was taking disappearances *very *seriously. So, maybe they got to him in time…

“Anything else?”

Feronin withdrew an item from the corner of the room. “We found this in his chamber.” The elf wizard was holding what looked to be some kind of spear, but…it was all one piece, smooth…shaped.


Without asking permission, she grabbed the spear from the wizard (to no protest) and walked swiftly to meet her friends, hoping that that shade would be up and ready to put his mind to use regarding the weapon she carried in her hands.

Author: Turnerbuds

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