Griznuq Gaming

Thank you for the kind words, one of the greatest compliments a player can give a DM is "great evil genius". Truth be told, it's so fulfilling to give you a glimpse into the rabbit hole, now I just got to kick all you players into it...

...it is a deep hole.

Temmit scanned the demon siege sketch for almost an entire hand, looking for answers to unknown mysteries. He studied it so long that he committed the image to permanent memory. He found himself willing the graphite image to come alive proceed through its history and show him how the story ended, despite what horror he may see. But alas, it stayed in static form and did not obey the will of his fantasy. Finally, his curiosity broke through the obsession with this glimpse of horror, and commanded him to shift to the next page.

Gently shifting the Keep sketch to the side, he was again not disappointed on the next parchment with the exquisite detail from his father's hand. The drawing depicted a scene that although simple, was immersed in one specific unique detail that immediate caught Temmit's attention, his heart again raced at its portent.

(A detail I will save to the end).

It was another Keep (map forthcoming in post or by hard copy delivery), or more specifically, an estate surrounded by a square of four high stone walls. The view of the artist was from above, at its southeast corner (for sake of conveyance here), looking down into the courtyard shared by four buildings within its interior. A gatehouse was in the eastern wall which was drawn away from the artist to the right (leading north).

The walls were twenty feet tall and made of what appeared to be the same granite used in the Our Commons, they spanned hundreds of feet away to the artist left hand side (leading west) and almost as far to the right (again, north).

The gatehouse, sitting in the middle of the right wall, which was assumed the entrance to the Keep, was twice as high. It had what appeared to be an exterior door that led out onto the top of the twenty foot wall. It also has what appeared to be murder holes at the appropriate human height level around the structure at this level. Its flat roof (at forty feet tall) was made of what could only be Outlands wood, bordered by granite buttresses.

Northwest of the Gatehouse and within the courtyard, stood a circular tower that was ten feet higher and also made of the same granite. It had a few murder holes fifteen feet above ground (second floor) and windows about twenty-five (third floor), thirty-five (fourth floor) and forty-five (fifth floor) above ground. Its roof was also made of Outlands timber but formed an upside down cone at the top.

The largest structure was to the Southwest of the Gatehouse and Tower. It was a well built cathedral, again of granite, and had the footprint of a cross with its east and west wings spanning beyond the main structure. It appeared to be shorter than the first two buildings, but had a higher roofline with a massive steeple on its north end. It was simply built, but beautifully so. Stained glass windows were mid-way up the exterior walls with some form of human silhouette etched within the colorful glass.

Northwest again of the Cathedral was a two floor mansion, again with very high rooflines but apparently only a couple of floors (the cathedral having three). The mansion was also a beautiful work of architecture with a blend of Outlands timber integrated with granite. The east and west side of the first floor appeared to be covered porches with beams of Outlands wood holding up a slanted roofline above.

South of this mansion was the last building which by its architecture couldn't be identified. It hosted a mixture of architectural elements taken from the Tower and the Cathedral and also looked to be only two floors high. This building was the only other one in the Keep that had a flat roof (like the Gatehouse) and made of Outlands Timber, with the same granite buttresses.

The buildings shared a system of flat granite sidewalks amongst well-tailored trees, grass and shrubbery. Small statues were about the large courtyard adjacent to these walks but the detail as to whom or what they represented was lost due to scale. It was very apparent that it was a lovely summer day by the evidence of many flowers in bloom. No one was walking throughout the courtyard, nor were they any guards posted on the walls or anywhere visible

What made Temmit's heart skip a beat was that the entire building was surrounded by Outland Trees, giant behemoths with trunks twenty to thirty feet in diameter. A few of them were almost nestled against the outermost wall. It was then that Temmit knew that this place could NOT be in Safe-Haven, for everyone knew that the forbidden forest was hundreds of feet back from the Flame Barrier.

"What is this place Father?" he again asked the room.

a gentle ping

"I am afraid so Shannon," Natasha answered plainly. Shannon's eyes looked like they would explode with tears on the spot, so she added, "but compared to what they faced, they are in far better circumstances than you can even appreciate right now."

It was then that Shannon's mouth almost exploded, Natasha anticipated, and with her two decades of experience as a lawyer, intercepted. "They faced a death sentence, a public execution no less," she said with a hand up to delay Shannon's outburst.

"The city hasn't seen a hanging in over a century, Fresenius, as evil as, wasn't willing to spend the political capital even for that type of display of control. So Cyric was able to manipulate him into a prison sentence."

It took a few moments before Natasha spoke to her. The kind lady simply observed her in the garden for a few ticks while Shannon nervously sat on the white marble bench.

The East Garden was surprisingly on a lower level from the rooftop garden they had just left. It was quite the expanse, bigger in floor space than most homes, and had multiple openings in the ceiling to allow light to shrine down from above. But the most incredible thing about the garden was its open wall to the outdoors. One wall simple didn't exist in the large room, with the garden, full of shrubberies, flowers and pretty landscaping merely ending at the drop off, the ground being 28 floors below.

If Shannon wasn't so worried about everything, she would have been lost in the beauty of it all.

"Shannon," Natasha began, I am truly sorry for what you and your parents are going through right now, I truly am."

Shannon didn't speak. She wanted to trust the kind lady, but wasn't sure about her yet, despite Natasha's obvious dislike of the priest that was just exhibited in the courtyard.

Natasha sat on a bench a few feet away. The two of them were alone in the indoor park.

"Let's proceed this way, we have a hand to brief you on what is going on, but let's get your most important questions answered first, shall we?"

Natasha's eyes under the slightly grayed brow were very compassionate...it made Shannon want a hug...she really needed a hug. But from her mother.

The parchment within the satchel had yellowed with age, but Temmit found the sheets to be in good condition nonetheless. Each of the half dozen or so sketches were pressed flat from lying in its hiding place for so long.

The top rendering pulled immediately upon the emotional band about Temmit's chest, but not only due to sorrow, but from utter newfound pride. The exquisite detail and artistry his father could attain with only a piece of graphite amazed him.

He stared at the sketch of his mother, his sister and himself for quite some time. At some point he broke from the spell and turned his minds' eye on the task at hand, clues of his family's past. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be found in this one.

He respectfully slid the family portrait to the side to reveal the next rendering of the pile, which he had placed next in a clear space amongst all the items on the floor.

The next sketch caused Temmit to make a low whistle in approving awe (once again) at the beautiful detail etched upon the parchment. The graphite on this second sheet depicted a Keep at the edge of a forested cliff with an open field before it. Within this open field were thousand of Karh'Thul advancing upon the Keep, and at the fields' center a massive Karh'Thul two extra arms and a height that towered over its' peers.

Although he had never been there, Temmit assumed it was Council's Edge, the Keep of the Warden Council. This confused him though, for why would his father sketch a battle that never occurred? Ulstag was a thousand years ago, and in no part of Kaine Scripture or any history lesson lectured to Temmit was there an account of Ulstag leading demons in an attack upon Council's Edge.

Temmit immediately wanted to dismiss the importance of the picture as a passing fancy of the artist, but some internal voice, like whispering smoke, nagged at him not to do so. He therefore started to scan the picture with the skills of an age 14'er from the House of Scribes.

The Keep, wonderfully detailed despite its small and far-away presence within the center of the sketch, sat at the edge of a chasm that divided the Keep from the open field. About the field was a nightmare of demons, most walking about and doing nothing of consequence (except looking evil). However there were two disturbing groups of Karh'Thul that were the exception. His father had sketched a dozen "KT" standing at attention in a circle around Ulstag. As if they were a special contingent awaiting orders. This was not a characteristic common to these wild demons, even though it was somewhat hinted at in the legend of the Battle of Millengarde. And since the story of Millengarde was regarded more as a fable of religion than actual history, this vision gave Temmit some concern.

"Or are you just being an artist of fiction Father?" he asked the empty bedroom.

The other group of demons was also not acting like typical KT....for they were building something. The mass of black bodies obscuring the construction from view, but Temmit did spy discern an obvious mechanical arm with a king of launching pad, indicating some mangorel device(?) One KT was even "directing" a few of the others who were lifting the back end of the machine, almost as if the KT was having them "point" it.

The idea of the KT being militarily organized and communicative in this way would have made Temmit laugh if he wasn't so frightened the sketch's life-like detail. It was then that Temmit picked up a minute detail that had thus far eluded him. The small glow on the horizon line behind and to the right of the Keep...it was NOT the rising or setting sun as he had first assumed. For the watch tower search lanterns were fully ablaze, the glow of the mirror-reflected fire spotlights scanning sharply the enemy down below.

So what was the light on the horizon?

(Feel free to email me with any out-of-game questions, or post them here, whichever is your preference).

Temmit was careful but he flipped two quickly and a section of some of the more brittle pages literally cracked in half. He was careful to put them back into the book where they were and flipped the book over by it's cover so he could better turn to the end.

Unfortunately the symbolic writing was the same at the back as it was in the front. What's more, it appeared to not actually end on the last page, speaking to the possibility of a third volume.

No update in edition! I have my character nice and ready with 2nd edition!

Temmit  placed the book down flat on an empty space on the floor, clear from the boundary of his parents bed-frame. Cautiously, so as not to damage the fragile book, he moved the tattered cover open with one finger to reveal the front page.

A bit to his surprise the very first page was not a title page as he had expected, but a wall of text bereft of an indent. For all indication it appeared a continuation of another volume of work.

What was more disturbing however was that the text appeared to be some sort of symbolic code, and a complex one at that. Temmit had heard of such things but could not make sense of it.

(The text is just in a different language and Temmit doesn't recognize this fundamental concept. Why? Because "languages" do not exist in this world, since everyone in Safe-Haven speaks one common language. The idea or notion that anyone could write, let alone write, in another language is an alien concept).

"yup"

Where too next?

The three judges didn't move, but those on the council looked to Fresenius for his response to the outrage, except Cyric, he intercepted the moment to perform damage control.

"That will be quite enough Miss Auvryndyr," Cyric commanded with a raise of his hand for her silence. He continued without pause, lest Shannon strike out with her tongue again, "Miss Marks, please escort your young client to the East Garden and confer with her there. Mr. Mills, if you would please continue with your presentation of Dakin Auvryndyr's settlement terms..."

"I don't believe you have the power to excuse a summoned witness in this court Councilman," interrupted Fresenius. Shannon felt the hands of Miss Marks' upon her shoulders tense.

Cyric turned back to address Fresenius, who was now standing on his higher throne. "You're correct Your Honor, but I had assumed you would want the child informed by her representative... what role she is to play in this court appearance. After all, we do have obvious evidence that this child has not been properly pre-conditioned for this trial and..."

Fresenius turned a bit crimson. "You mock this court as some back-house theatre Cyric?!"

Cyric then did an odd thing, he smiled at the High Priest. "Why of course not Your Honor, such a thing would be both blasphemous and considered contempt. I am merely trying to expedite an obvious oversight. This child needs to be briefed on what expectations are placed on her during this appearance."

Cyric then turned back towards the center of the proceedings, and projected his next words above those in audience, allowing their weight to crash down upon the grassy roof.

"After all, it was agreed that Shannon would not be put on trial here. It would be a shame to undue all the justice being served upon her parents by a breech in the agreement reached with them by this court."

Miss Mark's grip on her loosened slightly.

Cyric continued, "The girl speaks out of love, but also in confusion, a confusion that this court in its own negligence is responsible. So before you sentence or question her on her last outburst Your Honor, I humbly request you let this girl of only 10 years get a hand of council."

During Cyric's speech, Fresenius had sat down and gained control of his composure. Shannon had a feeling that these two fought a lot, so much, that they seemed to be always ready for the other's next move.

"Alright Cyric," replied Fresenius, "as you will." Fresenius motioned to Miss Marks for her to escort her charge from the rooftop Gardens.

Miss Marks said to Shannon, in almost a whisper in her ear, "come now Shannon, let's go talk."

As they walked the few blocks, Michael put his arm around the younger kid in a show of compassion. It felt (to Harrison) that this kid was a natural at dealing with others in need, despite his awkward looks.

"Listen Harrison," he whispered as they approached some non-descript porch of what appeared to be a house in the crowded District, "if I can impose on your privacy for just a little bit longer, I may be of assistance in talking to Lorainna?"

Ok, ball is still in your court sonny!

I do not...but YAY THRESHOLD!

"Like I said, you may want to start with Lorainna as she may know more about what your Dad was up too. She operates from her home only a few blocks from here, want me to take you there?"

(Neither the DM or Michael is being a smart ass, just continuing on with the stream of thought. GREAT post btw, you got the 10 year old mind pretty accurate.)

Item after item he sifted thru, occasionally one would bring back a small memory of either parent. Temmit, concentrating on the task at hand, catalogued each memory into a mental file that he could reference at a later time if required.

He wasn't second in his House for nothing ('damn that Jeremy Wilkins!').

There was nothing of seeming importance upon the floor and he was left with only the unknown content beyond the trapdoor, which he slowly opened. He cursed himself immediate afterwards though, "it could have been trapped stupid!" he reprimanded himself.

"Remember your training boy," he said, repeating the words of his HouseMaster Hovric.

He scanned the contents.

Laying atop everything was his father's leather "sketching satchel". Temmit was immediately disturbed however, for his trained eye noted something amiss. He left the room, retrieved an old oil lantern and brought it back to examine this recently revealed evidence.

As the dry wick and old oil spat smoke with a flame that was an angry flicker, he used the light to take a closer look at the layer of dust within the cavity in the floor. As he suspected, he saw an outline (of dust) left behind by items no longer there. The theft was further betrayed by the slight impression upon the leather satchel left behind by weight of the missing items. Upon careful consideration he demised that the two stolen goods were; a book of about 7" x 10" and something else that was 4" in diameter, the latter having some heft and probably therefore metal. Judging the distance between the recently closed trapdoor and the top of the satchel, both items couldn't have been more than about an inch thick.

This evidence investigated fully, Temmit cautiously lifted his father's satchel out of the cavity in the floor and set it aside.

Items covered by the satchel could be defined as his father's treasure. A fine looking dagger with a aquamarine gem in it's hilt lay in an ornate scabbard. Beside it, some kind of incredibly old tomb or journal, it's black leather cover dried from the ages and cracked. The cover was so dry that it's corners were frayed at the edges with the upper right corner actually missing. There was no markings or title upon the face of the book.

Adjacent to the bottom of this old book was what appeared to be a bag of coins, the cloth around which revealed its contents after settling over the years as the bag lie in wait. To the right of these items was a column of small books stacked two by three. Temmit recognized them as his father's personal journals.