{DM}

Browsing through the old trunk containing what remained of his parents things was something
Red Dawn Hawk had once done every few years. But since ... since Nothroel, other losses had
occupied what time the Elf had had for pensive reflection. Still, his belongings, kept for him by settled
friends in Greengold these last many years, were just as he'd left them.

His mother's trunk itself contained among other things several of her journals, pretty things,
their embossed covers thoroughly familiar. He lingered over them for a moment, then brought to mind
their contents. Or tried. Trivial platitudes? Personal notes? Nothing memorable. Nothing at ALL
memorable.

It was a long moment of confusion for the Elf, realizing he had never read the journals at all...
the presence of strong enchantment raising the hairs on the small of his neck. He turned the journal
over and over. Began to lift the hasp, but his training made him hesitate. It was true that Red Dawn
Hawk had learned much since last he looked over these things left from his parents' possessions.
And only now it dawned on him, what might be at work. The enchantment was well known. And with
the sure expertise of any of the witches who'd taught the young elf their craft, he found their hallmarks
when he looked for them.

Inside, he knew, the writing was such that it could only be read by its intended recipient. Anyone
else would be placed under a powerful but temporary spell, from which they would emerge witless of
whatever the book contained, remembering pretty and indecipherable script, if anything. And to
unweave the enchantment was well beyond his current skill. 

Still he kept the conundrum with him, the last volume of his mother's Journals. And whether in a
few hours intuition, or over the span of several seasons, the solution to this riddle eventually occurred
to him. It was possible that he himself was of the spell's intended recipients. Himself as his parents
had known him. Not the Varisian Elf outcaste.

...

And unlocking this secret, he read many things. There was frequent, but ambiguous, mention of
a figure, Orsinia, and her league of alliances. Philosophical musings on the nature of evil, of slavery,
of the races of the backwater planet Golarion, and the fundamental quality of intelligence all speaking
things alike possessed. Of the significance and folly of procreation and childbirth. Other names, few
Red Dawn Hawk had ever heard, were found therein-- allies Orsinia had won over-- two dragons,
Munkare and Chandrilkasta. And then, among the last entries, word of the alliance Orsinia had made
with a young Dwarven prince of High Helm, Borogrim the Third, to whom she and her husband would
soon travel to take Oath with the League.

How could this not be one in the same, Borogrim the Hale, King of Highhelm?

And, in the very last. A most disturbing entry. One penned with obvious anguish. His mother
admitted to betrayal of the Lantern Bearers. Admitted to ambiguous regrets she hoped this new
alliance would help her put aside. 

Travelling to High Helm would present no great challenge. The young hawk was no stranger to
the open road, and with no commitments to keep, free to await a trading troop leaving Greengold for
the foothills of the Five Kings Mountains, and its capital. Would he dare go and confirm what the
Journal hinted?{/DM}

{DM}[Thanks for your patience so far. I have my own peculiar standards for setting opening scenes
of stories. May not be the most direct.

Like I’ve told the other players, I’m essentially handing out standard d20 roll arrays to everyone to
use through plot arcs. (1,3,5,7,9,12,14,16,19,20) They refresh when you use 9 of the 10 values, and
you carry the last one forward. 

Let me know if you want to inquire into anything in particular, and what you might have in mind to do,
assuming do want to take Red Dawn Hawk to Highhelm. The King’s Court Steward is known or easily
inquired after, to hold correspondence and entertain inquiries and requests for a direct audience with
the King, on a weekly basis. Dwarves are very bureaucratic even at their noblest. :) 

Please let me know if I’m leaving anything obvious out. I do want to give you some latitude to do as
you like in the setting, if you need to fill in some blanks with what Red gets himself into, don’t hesitate,
I can always edit in details, sort of as I did here with your proposed introduction.]

{/DM}

{RDH} 

Red, closed the journal, fastened it’s clasp and slowly returned it to his Mother’s small travel chest.
He closed the lid on the chest and sat upright with his hands on his knees. A long sigh, slowly
escaped.

He looked around the small loft, it was filled with the detritus of the dead. His mother’s and father’s
things sat on one table in the corner. A set of books on the history, flora, fauna, geography etc of the
Foggy Peaks, a treasured possession of his Godmother he had taken from her room after her death,
were in a bookcase. Zandu’s scarf, around his neck, a constant reminder of his friend and the only
father he had ever known. 

Finally, with an almost physical pain, he open the side table’s drawer to look at the only reminder of
his love. He had found Nothroel in a pool of her own blood. Floating in that pool was the white feather,
stained dark by her blood, he reached out and touched it in that drawer. He knew what that feather
meant. He knew her killer was a Babau demon. He knew they were assassins, that could wait for
years to ambush their prey. He closed the drawer.

He got up and left the room. He needed to clear his head with a walk through Greengold. The pain
of loss was so fresh with Nothroel, it pushed all the other losses away, but he felt them too, distant
flashes of pain and loss that could thunder into his psyche with the scent of a cooked meal or the
sound of jangling bracelets.

He pondered as he walked. What could he do? He often fantasized about charging into the
Tanglebriar and killing all that he could before some demon, beast or cultist killed him. It would end
the pain, but the thought never satisfied him. Red wanted revenge. Real, devastating permanent
revenge on the demon that had killed Nothroel..

His Mother’s journal gave him a course of action that might achieve his revenge. If there still was a
League operating that was better than the Lantern Bearers, the King of Highhelm would know of it,
be a member of it, be able to help him get the revenge that burned so brightly in his heart. 

He walked on and made plans and when he returned to the home of Nothroel’s friend, where he had
been staying for almost two years since her death. His pace, his gaze, his jaw were all more
determined than they had been for a long time.

. 

He spoke with his host, Mellimeldisiel, inquiring about the lineage, biography, political affiliation and
historical actions of King Borogrim. As they dined together, that night, he sought references to others
who might have information of a more personal or intimate nature about the King. 

Over the next several weeks, he visited Greengold’s library and visited with the most learned Elves
and Humans to discover what he could of the King and his known associates and advisors. 

Much more discreetly (seeking and using sources that do not include general conversations with
friends) he will investigate what he can find on the two dragons (and with great caution) on the person
named Orsinia. 

Red begins to investigate if Orsinia is a name associated with a particular race, culture, nation or
religion? Is there any indication that the four named individuals in the journal know each other or have
any form of relationship? Are there any commonalities of location, time, group affiliations in their past?

When he feels he has learned what he can in Greengold, he will take passage with a trading
company and raise some funds with them, if possible, by concocting light heal or other potions for
them, if they are interested.

Once, he arrives in Highhelm, he will continue his research in Helmslore in the same manner as he
proceeded in Greengold. 

Once he learns (or fails to learn) more about the four individuals he has read about in his Mother’s
journal, he will decide how (if) he wants to approach the King of Highhelm.

{/RDH} 

{TLG}

I am impressed with the amount of work you are doing and greatly enjoying this. Don’t burn yourself out, this is something we can pace ourselves and take the time to do well.

{/TLG}

{DM}

Mellimeldisiel seems to know perhaps a thing or two about the High King of the Dwarves.Generally well trusted by most Elven political figures of note, reigning for some ninety years now. Seems to have made an art of playing his rivals against each other, and giving them and his other critics just enough rope, and patiently waiting for them to hang themselves. Good for business, certainly. Presided over the Dwarven presence in the Goblinblood wars. Is thought to have once made a conciliatory gesture toward the goblin peoples of Isger, an inexplicably unpopular move, as Dwarves and Elves alike are singularly unfond of goblin folk.

[Thanks!

Should have gotten back earlier on the knowledge checks. I imagine some of your actions will be predicated on them.

There’s fully sufficient information on King Borogrim and on Dragons generally to make lore checks on each. We’ll count those as two checks, which you can make with your straight intelligence bonus.

The check on “Orsinia” is going to be very difficult to make without quizzing a librarian or some other local scholar busybody on the name, as little as you know about it. If you want to try diplomacy or bluff for asking around unobtrusively, let me know what value you want to use for that check too. You don’t have any reason to believe somebody is watching or cares what the gossip is about what that Varisian-raised Elf is up to, but asking in a way that convinces or tricks your informant into not being likely to repeat what you were inquiring into if somebody came around asking, is pretty high.]

Certainly High Helm itself was not without its libraries, and was a substantial center of culture, but Red Dawn Hawk suspected that the real place to go to conduct further research woud be Tar Kazmukh. If anyone could tell him what “Orsinia” was, the Dwarven scholars of that academic enclave were a good bet. And it was on the way to High Helm.{/DM}

{RDH}

Red thinks the dragon lore s less important and will put less effort into it, so I will use a 5. For King Borogrim, Red will use a 9 for his roll. Red will use bluff and the 16 roll for discovering more about Orsinia.

Red will set up his bluff by pretending research around Varisian folklore for a couple days, before coming back with a question about Orsinia, saying he had heard that she was an important historical figure for Varisian’s.

Red will definitely stop at Tar Kazmukh, then, on the way to Highhelm and conduct further research there.

I will use a 7 for the dragon roll, a 12 for King Borogrim’s roll and the 19 for the Orsinia roll when I get there.

If the bluff works in Greengold, he’ll run the same bluff in Tar Kazmukh.

(1,3,5,7,9,12,14,16,19,20)

{/TLG}

{DM}Red’s research into dragons in Greengold does find one detail worth noting [the 7 does net him an 11] to wit, that there is a story that is told of a despotic dragon on a faraway island by a name probably similar to Munkare. 

Red’s bluff, which he really pours every ounce of his slyness into, comes off in this case like a well-crafted charm. He’s quite sure his informant, a half-elven woman he coaxes into a talkative mood-- her intellect is substantial but she is socially awkward and easily flattered-- surely believes he was sincerely bored by her level of detail on the subject of Orsinia:

“Orsinia, the Lady of Bears. It is told she was a supernatural being, there is much speculation about the origins and nature of such creatures-- some suppose they are the Gods revered by the higher animals. This Orsinia spent time among the Elves of Kyonin, the Poets of Galt, and the Ranger-wardens of Old Taldor and Andoran. She went seeking what her ancestors had written in the unknown records their kind keep-- of deplorable bear baiting, torture, and humiliation. They say she was so surprised to find that most mortals were decent and caring, that she vowed to grant a special blessing to all of the thinking races.” The half-elven woman had smiled. “It’s an obscure story, but retold from unnamed sources by two different authors in roughly the same period, perhaps a century ago. It poses an interesting question-- what was the blessing? Or does the story falsely paint a rosy picture? It makes a counter-intuitive moral fable, if it is no more than that.”

Though happy to chat at length on this subject and many others, the woman seemed to have been able to find nothing more pertaining to ‘Orsinia.’ Her research did suggest a time period, and one of the second-hand accounts was in the name of a Dwarven author whose effects were likely kept in Tar Kazmukh.

Passage there was easy to book, and the center of Dwarven scholarship maintained several decent hostels and other service establishments in its little surface village and the larger underground main hall, beyond and below which were the fabled libraries, kept by its librarians, the meticulous Blue Warders.

These latter proved tremendously frustrating, however. There was a lot of bureaucracy to go through in order to be granted access in any of the libraries beyond the general stacks. At some point, Red found himself waiting in a small antechamber, when another elf, one dressed very drably, with long, unkempt hair, came in and sat in the waiting room with him, staring at him very uncomfortably for the span of a dozen breaths, before he spoke:

“You should have let that arrogant tower wizard take her away, brother,” said the stranger. His voice was angry. “Demons follow you wherever you go. You’re cursed.”

With this element of surprise, he cocked back his hand and hurled something at Hawk’s head, striking the wall nearby. The sound of shattering glass, and the elf left the antechamber, running into the adjacent room and then into the hall outside.

A hall that was largely devoid of Dwarves. Tonight was in fact some kind of minor Dwarven religious service, and most were leaving their posts and jobs early. 

[let me know if you wish to immediately pursue, or if there’s anything else you want to immediately investigate.]

{/DM}

{RDH}

Red leapt to his feet, calling out ‘Wait!’ after the elf. He knew the investigation of the thrown item could wait and charged immediately after the fleeing elf, shouting, ‘Stop! How do you know Nothroel? I need your help!’

He stops outside the antechamber, looks for and listens for the elf. Fear grips him. Questions suddenly rush into his mind. Who is this elf? How does he know him? How did he know he was here? Could this be a demon sent to capture or kill him? Could this be an assassin sent by Nothroel’s brother?

{/RDH}

{TLG}

Red’s perception is strong, but he is distracted by his fears and rolls a 3 (if one is required to hear or see the elf)

{/TLG}

{DM} At the sound of the shattering glass, after some delay, a clerk comes out and around into the room and follows you into the larger hall beyond. She asks, “Was it you broke the glass, sir Elf?” She seems to suspect it was not.

There’s a shout that rings out in one direction down the hall -- further into the mountain-- that even in his distracted state Red can scarcely miss. After a while, grey-robe-clad dwarf with a neatly shaven head and an intricate blue tattoo that crosses it and descends the back of his neck-- this would be a blue warder, the master librarians of Tar Kazmukh and guides to its most secure collections-- who comes jogging from the direction of the shout and is probably its source. “Did you-- did you two see the strange elf that came running that way?” He points.

If nothing else, the woman explains he must have been the one who broke the glass in the waiting antechamber where Red had been. He hmphs noncommittally at any other details he’s given, assuming they’re not earth-shattering. He inquires eventually after Red’s name and purpose here.

It occurs to Red that a favorable impression on the librarian would probably go a long way to gaining access to the books he wants tonight. 

[Unless you have in mind for Red to tell some elaborate lie, or some more elaborate scheme that I’m not immediately envisioning, feel free to give me a success on Diplomacy with the librarian. You can also make a perception and/or a knowledge (arcane) roll if you’re interested in looking into whatever it was the elf left behind in the antechamber. It’s also common knowledge that the Blue Warders are as a rule capable if not gifted Wizards in their own right, something not-so-common among Dwarvenkind.]

{/DM}

{RDH}

Red says “Honored Master, I did see this elf and he was very angry. He cursed me and hurled something at me, which shattered against the wall. I don’t understand. I do not know him and I was shocked at his behavior. 

Can I offer my assistance in investigating what the elf threw at me?” 

Red reveres knowledge and those that have it. He is genuinely honored to be in the presence of such an eminent scholar. Red will ask him if he can help him in any way to discovered where or what this elf is doing in the archives. Red wants to discover who this elf is, how he knows about him and how he found him. He also would love to gain a contact or make a friend with access to the knowledge stored in the archives.{RDH}

{TLG} I will use the 20 for the knowledge arcane roll to investigate the item thrown at Red. Red is really trying to impress the blue warder. {TLG}

{DM}The Blue Warder catches his breath, looks around, says, “Show me where.”

In the course of looking over the antechamber where the elf ducked in and out, Red easily uncovers enough shards of glass to recognize a common manufacture of phial used chiefly by alchemists to store substances that react with air. Several possibilities leap nimbly to the witch’s mind, and he’s able to list them off readily for the Blue warder, who listens intently.

None of the options seems realistic. And finally, there’s the matter of the seal on the cork. You know something about potioncraft. Elves and dwarves each have their own methods. This follows neither. It looks to have come from the hand of someone who rudely jammed in the cork with no sealing compound and no art at all. The lack of evident effect brings several possibilities to mind.

“No, of that I’m sure--” the Warder answers him, stroking his beard. “There is no magic in this room or adjacent halls that would suppress such effects. The wards built into Tar Kazmukh are my profession, I should know.”

The compound in the phial was obviously inert-- ordinary table water, from the bland, damp scent of it. In the end, there is only one conclusion Red can reach: There is someone with no alchemical experience posing as an alchemist.

Looking as though he is skeptical of any conclusion but suspects much, the Blue Warder introduces himself. “My name is Duran Kurdar, warder of the libraries as my father was before me.” He bows his cleanshaven head slightly. “You do not seem an ordinary Elvish wizard. I take it you have some skill at potion-craft? What are you here studying?” He pauses unreadably. “I may be able to help.”{/DM}

{RDH}

“I am Nethaefarason Tegalad, but most folks call me Red.” He replied, “I have not had what many would call a normal elvish upbringing. I was raised by an academic whose specialty was scroll making and I have travelled for years with a traveling Varisian clan that specialized in crafting potions. Most recently I have part of a coven watching the northern border of the Tanglebriar.” He paused to judge the Dwarf’s reaction. If he doesn’t appear to be reacting with horror or distaste, Red will continue,

“My parents disappeared when I was a child. I have been searching for the reasons for their disappearance and recently while going through their possessions. I came upon a few entries in my mother’s journal. There is a reference to a meeting they were about to have with a Dwarven Prince Borogrim. They wanted to speak to him about a person by the name of Orsinia. I have come to the Five Kingdoms to research this person and ask for an audience with the King,”

“Can you help?” 

{/RDH}

{DM}“Red, then.” The Dwarf tugs at his beard thoughtfully, listening to the Elf’s background, pleased both at having rightly guessed at Red’s training, and at his background. He squinted. “Now, by your turn of phrase,” he said at Red’s pause, “I would have guessed you as a western Taldan. Your master, not old Master Wytt by any chance?” The dwarf cracked a smile for the first time when it became evident he had guessed right. “Bolka’s braids, lad! I Dean Wytt’s classmate for many a year here. Sensible fellow, would have made an excellent Dwarf. Did he ever speak of me?” It was unlikely he had, but doubtless he’d mentioned studying here in the heart of Dwarven scholarship and penmanship.

He gestures for Red to come with him, as the lad talks, leading him up and out of this side hall to the largest of the main halls of Taz Kazmukh, toward the main entrance to the mountain. Gestures to one of the other Wardens to take up the watch behind them, as the two pass.

“Ah, so your birth parents were friends of the King, then?” He says conversationally. “There’s much work here for scrivenors and alchemists alike, you can be sure, the libraries all around us. Orsinea, you say? Hm. It is not a name I know. Which is neither here nor there if you have access to the right indices and digests. Still, you know what they say about a name ye do not know.”

Master Wytt had often repeated, ‘Memorize a name you do not know, but do not let your knowledge of it show.’

“First, however, I think we should settle this business about vials of liquid thrown about in waiting rooms. Not very civil.” The dwarf had led the way, talking, up into the main hall, and up the shallow grade among the main underground shops and offices they walked now, practically alone. The street was bare, though up ahead there appeared to be three, or four gathered together in front of an inn. “Odd,” muttered Duran. “That is the Inn where I thought we might meet the other elven alchemist staying here in the city lately...” The dwarf peered, sure already to make things out better in the dim light than the elf did. “If I am not mistaken, that is him now.”

As they approached it became increasingly clear that a halfling archer and the same Elf that had burst in on Red perhaps an hour before, were conducting a running battle with something.. misshapen... something that stumbled and flopped in a patch of grease on the ground. Feathered with several arrows and evidently a couple of knives, it did not look to be long for this world.

A dwarven woman emerged from a tunnel entrance between shops, assessed the situation about the same time Red and Duran came upon the scene, and let out a bloodcurdling shriek phrased in dwarvish, but stayed where she was.

[I will be moving to another document & chapter. Please follow the link below.]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19VVQkDwImtmBorhrDdWM0jQRsFDZuHjfcAYcJ6Pxuow/edit?usp=sharing

{/DM}