#but here he is! on his boat! Still trying to get to the Innkeeper's brother's abandoned castle ruins lol. but it was mentioned

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 7: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should go on a 5 day journey to find the Innkeeper's weird brother who studies animals, and show him the Suspicious Egg….

~

The next morning he wakes early, buzzing with renewed purpose, and also minor back pain from sleeping on old potato sacks.. After a meager breakfast of more free leftover scraps, the Innkeeper stops him before he leaves, giving him a few extra supplies for the long journey, as she can tell he doesn't have much. He packs up and sets out onto the road once again, crumpled sketchy map in hand...

He has a fairly uneventful journey for the first day - waving at the occasional other travelers as they pass, cleaning his boots in a nearby pond, stopping to eat some dumplings whilst watching the sunset, and finally setting up a small tent a short ways off the main path, resting with his cat by a dim campfire until they both fall asleep......

The second day, however, does not start as smoothly.. Only a few hours further down the road, he's met with a large barricade, guarded by a group of what seems like elven soldiers from one of the larger surrounding cities of the area. Practicing his confidence, he puts on his best "brave face" (which to others, appears more as some sort of pained wince, like he might have something in his eye), shakily striding right up to the authority figures he is definitely not afraid of.

"Halt, traveler! You cannot pass."

He sways slightly, struggling to keep his wobbly legs under control, "OH, y-yEAH, ssorry, I was-, hh, I was just walking, ~o-out for a stroooll~, haha, so I .. uh.. o-okay. That's.. okay. But, uh.. could, can.. euh.. C-can I ask why? like... why the, uh... blocking off.. of ... the um.. the-"

"Unfortunately, we are not at liberty to disclose any information on the nature of this current road closure. Our sole duty is to maintain security of the barrier."

"hhHeh, ye.. eAh, for sure, I-I get that.. Duty is.. really so... important in ... today's world.. gotta, um.. do the duties.. or, uh.. .. yeah, but.. so, uhhh... wh-Do you know.. maybe, uh... H-how long you'll, like... be here? guarding... and such...??"

"We'll be here as long as we need to be here."

"...O-okay.. but, like.. uh... any,,.... time estimate? hahahehhh?? like, uh.. a day, or... two, or um...??"

"This matter does not concern you, traveler. Move along."

"Aoh, yeahgh, I.. totally.. totally.. it, uh.. Well.. but it kind of does though,, right? B-because I do, in fact, actually have to go down that road at some p-point sssoo, um,... uh.. I-"

"I said move along."

The guard abruptly takes a step forward, causing The Adventurer to yelp as if he'd been hit, tripping over his own feet and scrambling off on hands and knees, lunging into bushes near the rocky roadside.. After exchanging a confused glance, the guards both shrug, resuming their stoic positions at the barrier.

The Adventurer watches from the uncomfortable safety of some berry brambles, surveying the area at a distance and desperately trying to work out how he can still get where he's trying to go. The map given to him by the Innkeeper is pretty straightforward, not showing alternate paths. Based on his primary map, he could maybe think of a few detours, but he's anxiously unfamiliar with the area... How should he proceed?

----

Additional Details - (I decided whenever he gets new items or goals or something, I'll list them at the end just to keep track)

items + to inventory (from the Innkeeper): 2 lunchboxes of vegetable dumplings, 2 canteens of water, a box of tea, one rope, 1 pouch of dried meat, 4 candles, a hand-drawn map

main goal: get to the abandoned castle ruins to see the rare animal specialist about the egg

[mistakenvilliany]

Episode 8

Teens are on the loose! We will have adventures, we will get into mortal peril, and we can't keep secrets to save our lives! I love that we have Wei Wuxian chasing after Lan Wangji because he doesn't want to be left out of their quest, Jiang Cheng chasing after Wei Wuxian because he's sure his brother is an idiot, and then Nie Huaisang is there because he doesn't want to go home. Here we begin see that the (other 4) great clans are really behind the eight ball on this, and it's only going to get worse. Anyway, I have a surfeit of things to say, so without further adieu:

• So we go backwards a bit to have Wei Wuxian try and find Wen Ning, only to see that all traces of the Wens are gone. I like to think that strolling up to haul Wen Ning out for archery practice or other fun was just a thing that Wei Wuxian did regularly. My guess would be no since Wen Qing is there to be protective and not rock the boat with the rest of the Wens, but I think it's a fun theory anyway, so I'm gonna roll with it

• Back with bunnies, and I just want to point out here that Wei Wuxian is perfectly capable of holding an entire conversation on his own. Baby, that bunny cannot speak to you and if it could it would ask you to put it down!

• Wait, wait, wait - they really just tossed rabbits around like that for filming?!? I really hope that they did that one in one take. Please treat your rabbits with kindness!

• When Lan Wangji leaves and bids the rabbits farewell, he just looks so soft! I just want to cover him in bunnies. My guess, Wei Wuxian went back for the rabbits on his own, which of course was noticed by Lan Wangji, but he couldn't join because his brain went bluescreen at the cuteness of it.

• Wen Chao sucks

• Wen Chao is out in the rain and antagonizing Lan Xichen, just the look on Lan Xichen's face makes me believe that above and beyond the whole "your dad is trying to take over the world" thing these two have hated each other for years

• Wei Wuxian leaves in the middle of the night to chase after Lan Wangji, smart move as Lan Wangji is likely to sleep when it is dark, and WWX has some ground to cover. It's the smiley face though! Gets me every time. Just leave a note that says "I'm off to find danger! 😀" Not comforting, baby, just not comforting. Jiang Cheng clearly agrees with me

• Jiang Fengmian, what am I going to do with you? Actually, all the Sect leaders all seem to be locked up with an inability to act. Lan Xichen can do nothing to protect his brother right now, Jiang Fengmian can only acquiesce to WWX leaving and hope that things work out, Jin Guangshan is an asshat, and we haven't seen Nie Mingjue yet

• My babies are together again! And Lan Wangji, darling, please stop pretending you don't like him. I fully believe that Wei Wuxian is just talking to talk, he's offended to be left behind since he's an amazing companion in his own not so humble opinion, and literally the only thing he gets from LWJ is "how boring"

• Wen Chao sucks, but I want to know more about this bird

• The look on Lan Wangji's face when he gets hit with bonding/binding! It's 100% "bitch, you didn't!" which moves into 90% "fuck my life" and 10% "this is kinda hot"

• Yin Iron signal!! You are headed in the right direction! Okay let's be real here - does this mean that they picked a direction and decided that eventually it would work out? Because why, exactly?

• Nie Huaisang: "I know that laugh! I will pal around with my good friend Wei Wuxian instead of going home!" Sweetheart, why do you do this to your brother?

• In all honesty, I do think that WWX and NHS do see a reflection of themselves in the other. Conversation is easy, inside jokes are created on a whim, they can see how smart the other is, and their reasons for not conforming to the "I am intelligent and capable" mold

• Jiang Cheng is sneeking out of Lotus Peir via the very obvious front door. Really? That's about a subtle and sneaky as a ball through a window. Oh summer child, you have much to learn.

• I kinda can see that Jiang Cheng is worried about Wei Wuxian, after all they are brothers and Wei Wuxian's overconfidence is super obvious to Jiang Cheng, but the main reason he leaves is so that he isn't left out. There's a super cute story about a similar thing I did following my sister on a tricycle, so I get it.

• Jiang Yanli (my treasure) has now been left by both her brothers to deal with home life. Yikes!

• Back in Tanzhou, we learn that Lan Wangji does not like crowds (unsurprising), but that he will still follow Wei Wuxian (as long as he is pulled along), and that Nie Huaisang is good at remembering things. Also that Lan Wangji is the best looking man alive. The look on WWX's face when NHS says that is perfect. It's a blend of "oh, I see now, yes!" And "why are you noticing that" and "just fell more in love, thanks!"

• The poor florist lady's place is entirely ash - Wen Chao super sucks, and I still want to know more about this "Dire Owl"

• Wen Qing is really trying, both in her attempt to herd Wen Chao (who sucketh) in another direction and her subsequent "fight" with Jiang Cheng to give him a direction. I do feel bad for the innkeeper though, poor man doesn't know who to serve and ends up not serving anyone

• Sure, let's follow the terrified old woman into the creepy ghost town, surely we'll find a place to stay for the night! It even feels weird to WWX, and they still continue on! But she said "spirit snatch" so off to obviously, now we climb a mountain (that's at least a mile straight up) to investigate

• Old man "you should leave, this statue (naturally formed btw) steals souls, but if you're going to stay, you might as well stay here. Night!" Old lady - here's some kindling

• Well, we're in for a creepy night in soul snatch temple! Might as well get what sleep we can until it all goes to hell

• In the fight with the statue we have impressive displays of teamwork and bravery (and hiding: NHS) and I love that bonding/binding is useful! I've also noticed it's now a gold color. At the end of it she's back where she belongs

• Zombies are here! Sorry, I mean puppets. I know that they are about to converge on the temple, but sir, why do you have a bucket? And what is that wheel going to do? It really just looks like they are headed to make camp somewhere.

• Trapped in a temple! Those doors are not sturdy, kids. Better figure out what your going do when they fail

[is-that-another-soulmate-au]

Zukaang soulmate au part 15

@mypureessence

@chaoticidiott

Sitting around the fire telling ghost stories was pretty fun, but when they were interrupted by a nearby innkeeper everyone was on edge. There was something about her that felt... off. Both Zuko and Sokka felt it, but neither of them could put their finger on it. She always seemed to have a slight glare on her face when looking at Zuko but he was used to that so he didnt play that into whatever was going on.

When they got home from the market and Hamma left to go to the market Sokka did some snooping around, and while Zuko wanted to know what was up he was in the same boat as Katara, not wanting to intrude where they weren't explicitly told they were allowed to go. So when Hamma walked in on them Zuko was by the door watching her walk in. He gave her a nod in the groups direction and she gave a hard glare before getting the attention of the others.

When it was revealed that she was not only from the southern tribe but also a waterbender Zuko's heart sank. Her retelling of the things she went through made his heart sink even more.

"Hamma" he started earning a slight glare "I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, and I know just from the glares you've given me that it probably won't change much. But, I'm sorry" he was looking at his hands "I may not have been around when my nation hurt you, but my ancestors were, and I'm so, so sorry." When he looked up he was met with not a glare but instead a softer expression and eyes threatening to burst with tears.

"Oh Lee, I'm sorry, I hadn't noticed I had been glaring at you. I'm sure the fire nation has hurt you too, I shouldnt have-"

"No, you were right to glare at me. You're right to be angry with me. Sure the fire nation hurt me, but that does not compare in any way to the pain its caused you. The pain its caused every one else at this table." He looked at his hands "my direct ancestors are the cause of so much destruction, so you're right to be angry with me. I don't need forgiveness and I dont need you to turn around and apologize to me. Just know that I'm sorry, and that you don't have to forgive me" looking back up he saw Hamma give him a small nod.

And that was the last bit they spoke before Katara and Hamma began their waterbending training, leaving Sokka and crew to try and find out the mystery behind the people going missing. After talking to old man Ding, who managed to escape the gasp of whatever was causing this Toph made a connection

"Oh no!"

"What!? Whats wrong?!" Zuko and Sokka said in unison

"I did hear people screaming under the mountain! The missing villagers must still be there!"

And with that they all ran off towards the mountain, finding the missing people was a breeze thanks to Toph and her all seeing earth bending feet.

"We're saved!" One of them exclaimed

"I didn't know spirits made prisons like this?" Aang muttered to himself "who brought you here?"

"It was no spirit!" One of the female villagers said in an irritated voice

"It was a witch!" Another exclaimed

"A witch? What do you mean?" Sokka pressed while Toph went around uncuffing the villagers

"She may seem like a normal old woman but she controls people like some dark puppet master!" The first woman finished off her statement with a rub to her now uncuffed wrists.

"Hamma" Sokka spoke through clenched teeth

"Yes! The innkeeper!" A man shouted from where he was on the wall.

"I knew there was something creepy about her!"

"We have to stop Hama!"

"You guys go! I'll get the villagers out"

And with that Zuko Aang and Sokka were off to find Katara and Hama. Zuko lost himself in thought as he ran, Hama could control people like a puppet master? Being a waterbender she probably could have used water and ice to do that right? But then they would have just said she was a waterbender... and Old Man Ding didn't say anything about water.

Shaking his head he kept running, taking a glance at Aang he was filled with worry, they had no idea what they were going up against, on a full moon none the less. He didnt want to lose him again.

Coming up on Hama and Katara, Sokka was the first to shout out "we know what you've been doing Hama!"

"Give up! You're outnumbered!" Aang shouted out the threat with full confidence

"No!" Hama shouted back as she stood "you just outnumbered yourselves"

Suddenly Zuko felt a hot stinging sensation flow through him and he was pulled forward by an invisible force along with Aang and Sokka. They were thrown at Katara, but she managed to dodge them and throw an attack at Hama.

The fight went on until Aang and Zuko were frozen to trees and Sokka was frozen to the ground "dont hurt your friends Katara" Hama mocked "and don't let them hurt eachother!"

Zuko and Aang were pulled towards Sokka from both sides with him now forced standing upright. At the last second before they all crashed together with weapons drawn they stopped moving and Katara shouted "No!"

Hama was brought to her knees with Katara's blood bending. Just as she was knelt down Toph arrived with the villagers and put her in cuffs. "You're going away forever"

"No wait" Zuko said with a raised hand

"Zuko what are you doing?" Aang went to reach for his lowered hand but Zuko moved away

"I get it, yeah, she hurt all of you, and yeah sure, maybe you didn't deserve it. But neither did the people I hurt. And she didn't deserve any of the decades worth of pain she went through along side her brothers and sisters. The pain she went through is astronomical compared to what she's done." He looked at Hama with a sad expression "let me be the first to say that I would gladly take the beating she wants to give to the fire nation, my ancestors are directly linked to the near extinction of her culture, and they're linked to the extinction of the air nomads!"

He turned to Katara "I would be shocked about you not wanting to use that power to get back at the fire nation, but its just not in your nature, and thats okay. But its also okay that she does want to." He gestured around vaguely "she deserves to express her anger! She deserves to let it out! Sure maybe this wasn't the best way to go about it, but she's been stolen from her home! How else would someone react?! I mean fuck! I was burnt and banished and the first thing I did was set out to hurt people!" He took a breath and refocused "hurt people, hurt people."

He looked Hama directly in the eyes "while I dont think you were right in hurting these people in particular, and the way you went about it was definitely not the right way. You deserve to let out your anger. And the best way to do that without causing any real damage, is to scream." When her expression turned from anger to confusion he continued "so I want you to scream Hama. Scream at me. I'm connected to the people who caused you pain, my ancestors ordered that pain to happen. Yell at me! Scream in my face! Tell me how much you hate my guts! Scream Hama! Scream until you can't scream any-"

"AAAAAAGH!" Hama let out a loud scream, interrupting Zuko's long speech. "You want me to scream at you? Want to hear how much I hate you? Fine!" She tugged forward but was held back by her wrists "I hate you! You are disgusting! How dare you! How could you! You attacked us! You knew we were without an army! And you attacked us! You took my friends, my family! And you took me! You stole me from my home and locked me up like a wild animal! You deserve nothing!"

She took a loud shaky breath and continued "you deserve to ROT!" She took a moment to look at Zuko, who held an expression one could only describe as empathy, no pity, no fear, no anger, just an empathetic sorrow filled expression. She stared at him and then looked down "but not you, not any of you, you werent there" she fell to her knees with the man holding her falling suit. "None of you were there, none of you hurt us, but I-"

"Did what you had to" Zuko finished as he knelt beside her "Hama, you were stolen, you were hurt. By people of my nation, of our nation" he said motioning to the people behind her, those of which were part of the fire nation "of course you would direct your anger at us. Hell, if I were in your shoes I would do the exact same thing" he paused for a moment and then sighed "and as much as I dont want to admit it. What you did was wrong in so many ways and yeah, you do need to go somewhere else, but, you don't have to go in thinking you won't get out."

He took a second to let his words sink "because we're going to stop this war, and when its over I'll personally see to it that you are given a safe place to heal"

And with that they watched her and the villagers walk away, leaving Zuko with the weight of the promise he just made and Katara with the weight of her new found ability. The group packed up and left after that.

This time flying away was not at all a good feeling. Zuko was sitting with his back against Aang's chest while the two sat at the front of Appa with the reigns in Aang's hands.

"You really meant what you said to Hama didn't you?" Toph suddenly broke the silence

Zuko looked down at his hands "yeah, I did"

"How are you going to make good on that?"

"I...." he trailed off for a bit before coming to the realization that he doesn't know how he's going to pull off getting Hama the help she needs "I don't know"

"You'll figure it out," Katara chimed in "and we'll be here to help you when the time comes"

"Yeah," Aand said as he rested his chin on Zuko's shoulder and turned to give him a kiss on the cheek "We're all here help"

[fandomn00blr]

In Deep, Chapter 4 Excerpt

[Ok, so this is probably longer than an excerpt, but Alarion is so cute and I couldn’t bring myself to cut this random, unimportant scene after I’d written it, inspired by finding the love letter here in Origins. The actual letter in-game is a spoof on romance novel covers...I’m pretending that Solona and Leliana, in all their wlw solidarity wrote that one themselves to sell to “R” and cover for these precious young lovebirds. Oh, and IDK why, but I guess I’m also head canoning that everyone Solona befriends starts making awful puns. It’s a disease I guess. Or maybe a side effect of her magic? IDK...]

...

They followed the road around the lake to the docks outside the abandoned Spoiled Princess Inn. It had clearly been looted several times over and had perhaps even served as a shelter for various waves of squatters and refugees during the turbulence of the past decade and a half, but it was completely empty now. Of people and anything that might have been useful to them.

“I used to know the innkeeper here…” Anders reminisced. “He was mostly loyal to the Templars, but he did eventually warm up to me after I helped him out with a bad infection during one of my escape attempts.”

Alarion just smiled and shook his head at him. He couldn’t imagine anyone not warming up to a young Anders.

“Poor man.” Anders sighed. “First the Blight hit, then the war with the Templars…” He looked sadly around at what remained of the inn for any sign of his fate. “I hope he got out before things got too bad.”

Alarion didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t exactly an expert on the Blight or the Mage-Templar War in Ferelden, so he couldn’t offer much reassurance or any suggestions about the innkeeper’s fate. He tried to busy himself with looking around the wreckage of the place as well.

In a little room off to the side, he found a chest that had already been pried open and emptied of any valuables that it might have once contained. But there was a letter, neatly folded, laying undisturbed at the bottom. It was one of only a few things in the entire place that wasn't completely ruined or plundered, though he could tell by the yellowing of the paper, that it was at least a few years old.

“My dearest Virginia Trueroyal…” Alarion began to read aloud as he gently unfolded it.

He looked to Anders for any sign of recognition, but the mage just shook his head and laughed. “That has to be a fake name!”

“Words are a sad substitute for basking in the glory of your presence…” Alarion continued.

Anders groaned and walked back into the main dining room of the little inn in search of something less trite and ridiculous.

“Forgive me for my extended absence, my love, but Mother has insisted on my entertaining an endless stream of suitors now that I am of ‘a respectable marrying age.’

Don’t worry. They are all men. None could ever come close to competing with you for my heart and my...more carnal desires, as well. I blush from my cheeks all the way down to my thighs as I write this and my mind begins to picture all the things I wish to do to you the next time that we are alone together.

We shall see each other in a few weeks at the summer estate in Highever, but our reunion can’t come soon enough. Mother keeps reminding me that your brother Rory will be there, and that he is still single. Do you think he’ll still be up to playing along? He was such a good sport last time, and I don’t think he minded a chance to be alone with the horses and away from the chittering hens that have replaced our mothers in their advancing years.

Thinking only of you...and your lips...and your neck...and the rest of you,

A.”

Alarion smiled, amused, and carefully re-folded the letter, placing it back in the otherwise-empty chest for someone else to hopefully find some day and enjoy.

“All done?” Anders asked, popping his head back in the door to the little side room.

“I just don’t understand why she would make up a fake name for her lover, then mention so many traceable personal details, then sign with an initial, and not create her own pseudonym? It would be so easy to figure out who wrote this and to whom.”

“Because she was clearly just a bored, dumb, horny teenager…” Anders smiled. “Not a well-trained operative for some secretive spy network of elves.”

“Oh, I thought you had stopped listening,” Alarion smiled up at him.

“I heard ‘carnal desires’ and decided to start paying attention again.”

“I wonder what happened to them.”

"Is there a date on the letter?"

"5th of Cloudreach, 9:29"

“Well, if they didn’t die in the Blight or the War, I’m sure they both were forced to marry men they didn’t love and bear children they grew to resent. Best case scenario? They remain close and still get to fool around with one another every so often…perhaps at otherwise miserable family gatherings...”

“You’re such a romantic!” Alarion laughed.

Anders shrugged. “They probably had a great time that summer, at least? Right before the Howes sacked Highever and the Darkspawn began ravaging the country, that is...”

“Poor Rory, though.”

“Sounds like he enjoyed the company of the horses more, anyway.”

“Can’t say I really blame him,” Alarion snorted. “Horses are easy to understand...you know when you’ve won them over, at least.”

Anders looked at him a little apologetically and sighed. If only Alarion knew what a doomed disaster he was. “Come on...let’s go see if we can find a way across.” He would realize soon enough, Anders supposed.

“You actually want to cross the lake? To the tower?”

“Yes.” Anders nodded darkly, before adding, “You don’t need to come if you don’t want to…”

Alarion stood up. “Well, I’m certainly not going to let you go back there alone.”

“We may need to swim. Seems someone went through and burned or hacked up most of the boats on this side to bits.”

“Oh, that’s not foreboding…”

“For...boating, you mean?” Anders smirked awkwardly. The words had just kind of spilled out of his mouth. An old habit. Something he and Solona had done to lighten the mood in the Circle, and taken back up together at Vigil’s Keep. Something he’d almost completely forgotten about. But there was something about being back here...

“Wow…puns?” Alarion was trying hard not to laugh. He didn’t want to encourage this, obviously, though it was a bit of a relief to see the mage almost smiling. “I might actually consider going separate ways if you keep that up!”

...

[yanceyrenee-blog]

A Different Take Outlander AU

Okay by request I am going to attempt to do a different take on Claire. Making her a Twenty-first century woman. She enters the past a different way also. Also NO FRANK! Let me know what y'all think. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was so happy to be out of the university for awhile. Her medical studies are important to her but her mind, her body needed a rest. This holiday in Scotland was just what she needed. She leaves the hustle and bustle of Inveness for a hike along the countryside. She craves the fresh air and open blue sky. " Ye will be careful Ms. Beauchamp, won't ye?" Mrs Graham, the innkeeper inquires as she prepares to head out. " Yes, Mrs Graham. I have my cell and am only taken a small amount of money. And I won't be gone long. Do you have a specific worry?" " Aye tis' just close to the fairy time, almost All Saint's Day, tis. And the fairy's are more active, ye ken." She laughs aloud unable to hold it back. " I am sorry Mrs Graham. That was unspeakably rude. It is just this is 2017. You can't still believes those tales. " There are more things in heav' and earth than can be seen with the naked eye, my dear." Well, at least she isn't offended, Claire thinks. " I promise to be careful." " Verra good dearie. Try to be back in time for supper. We are having Brunswick Stew, so we are." " Sounds delicious. I will be back." She gives the kind lady a smile and a small wave. It would be the last time she saw her. " Now what is this." Claire mumbles to herself as she approachs the small pond. It is like none other she has encounted on her hike. It seems the same from a distance but as she approaches it, it feels different. The water is darker, for one thing. At first she attributes this to the shade from the surrounding trees. But no. It isn't deep blue but black. " That is queer." Claire thinks. She moves a step closer. She is leery of any open water source. She has had a genuine fear of drowning since her parents died in a boating accident ehen she was five. She was raised by her mum's brother, Uncle Lamert. But it was more than this fear that made her hesitant to approach the strange pond. She stops a couple meters away from it. For some reason Mrs Graham's warning runs through her head. " Oh rubbage. There is no fairy's nor reason to fear this pond." With that declaration she decides to move closer. To work against her fears. She takes one step. Then another. " Claire." " Who said that? Who's here?" She moves closer searching for the source of the Scottish voice that called her name. She was distracted and unaware of how close she was getting to the mysterious pond. Suddenly she slipped or was drawn in. She isn't sure which. But the shock of the cold water had her gasping and struggling. But no matter what she does, the pond won't let her go. James Alexander Mackenzie Fraser, Jamie to friends and family was enjoying this fall day hunting. They have good meals in his Uncle Column's castle. Castle Leoch this is. But he is craving meat cooked over an open fire that he had taken down himself. Besides he needs the fresh air and open blue skies of the Highlands. He moves almost soundless through the country side. This is his country though not his land. His family property is a couple days ride from here. Still he is familiar enough with his surroundings to know when something different. He stops and cocks his head, listening hard. There it was. A scream. A woman's scream. He takes off running towards the direction it is coming from, his kilt swinging. " Help. Someone help me!" Claire desperately cries. She tries to get out of the pond herself. After all it wasn't that deep and she is a good swimmer. But the pond pulls at her. Her head goes under and she comes up stammering. She tries to pull herself out again but the lake takes her under once again. When she manages to get her head above water again, she lost any inhibition to call for help. " Anyone. Please, please help me. Oh God. Please! I don't want to drown!" Jamie slids to a stop in front of Skye pond. The lady frailing about inside it takes his breath. She is the most beautiful creature he has ever seen. And she is in a fairy pond. Was she one of the little people then? " Oh thank God. Please help me. It doesn't seem to want to let me out." An Englisb woman. A Sassenach. So no fairy then. And she needs help. " Aye miss. I will get ye out. But ye should've been bathing in a fairy pond." As he talks he approachs the pond. He takes out his dirk and quickly saws a branch off of one of the surrounding trees. He holds it out to her. She grabs a hold and he hauls her out. " Thank you. I wasn't bathing nor swimming in your " fairy" pond. I slipped in and couldn't get out. I appreciate your help. I have a tremendous fear of drowning." She stops talking and turns fully to him. He stares at her in a way that gets her guard up. Before she can say anything he says, " Miss, why are ye dressed like a man. And such a queer man. I have nev' seen such particular clothes." She frowns and looks down to refresh herself with what she is wearing. No nothing queer. Jeans and a plain blue shirt. She wears boots for hiking. She then looks over at her rescuer. Her was the one dressed queerly. In a kilt topped with a linen shirt of the type she had only seen in books and museums. And was that a real sword he was wearing? And a sporren?" " Okay. Is this some type of joke? Where's the cameras? It is for a telly show, right?" " Telly? Camera?" the young man says. It is then Claire feels real fear. What in holy h+ll was going on here?

[imagineclaireandjamie]

What if the reunion (Print shop) was for both of them absolutely surprise? Claire was not prepared.

The Reunion. 

Nursing her second glass of whisky, Claire fumbled through the loose change she had left in her pocket. It wasn’t much considering she’d been living off the spoils of Roger’s finds for the past month - without a job, however, she would soon run out.

Claire had no plans save for coming through the stones and living out the last of her days in the relative comfort of the eighteenth century. She missed it. The simplicity of her life -before- had called to her on the most basic and primal level and even without…Jamie.

Her chest throbbed.

She had meant to come through the stones at Craigh na Dunn and head straight for Lallybroch and Jenny and Ian.

That’s what she had *meant* to do.

But on her arrival, she’d found herself unable to push herself in the direction of Broch Tuarach. Maybe it was the fear that Jenny would be angry with her for disappearing and leaving no word. Maybe not. But either way, she’d found herself in a carriage making its way towards Edinburgh and she hadn’t had the energy to argue with herself.

“Another?” The kind barmaid asked, hovering the full bottle over Claire’s empty glass, “on me, lass. Ye look like you could do wi’ it.”

Claire nodded, opting not to use words lest she be judged for her English accent.

Sipping slowly, she let the amber liquid flow into her veins as she curled herself around the glass.

What she was thinking she was going to achieve here, she couldn’t quiet be sure. But her heart told her it was where she needed to be.

–

A quick flash here and there made Jamie feel like he was slowly losing his mind. The last few days had been hectic to say the least. He had hundreds of leaflets to press and Geordie had come down with a mystery illness that had him wrapped up in bed being nursed by his terse wife.

Instead of being focused to his task, Jamie had been chasing a ghost through the city.

He’d caught sight of the lass once before, only a few weeks previously and she’d been so similar to…

No. He stopped himself from going into the tavern, holding himself back from the disappointment. Having been here before, he knew the abject emptiness that awaited him should he get his hopes up again. One time was enough.

Turning rapidly on his heel, he hightailed it back to the shop, slamming the door behind him and setting himself to his task as his mind emptied of everything other than the myriad of leaflets at his fingertips.

–

Sitting in front of the small mirror, Claire brushed the tangles out of her hair. Since arriving back she’d stopped trying to control it, and had opted, again, to let nature take its course. The distinct curls pinged back to form the moment the hairbrush left them and Claire quirked her head to the side as she admired their tenacity.

Sighing, she eyed the window of her rented rooms with some trepidation. The street below was still alive, the drunks stumbling out of the inn below and tumbling onto the rain drenched cobbles as they sauntered home. She would only be able to afford a few more nights here and then she would have to make an important choice.

Daylight streamed through the lace netting, waking Claire at dawn as the sounds of tweeting birds pulled her from her slumber. The days just seemed to be slipping by and she was no closer to pulling together the bravery she needed to leave for Lallybroch. Something was keeping her in Edinburgh, but she couldn’t quite figure out what.

“Morning, mistress,” the chirpy daughter of the innkeeper piped up as Claire rose for the day and wandered down to breakfast. “Can I interest ye in a kipper this morn? Fresh off the boats, aye?”

Claire shook her head and smiled. “No, thank you.”

“Yer very quiet, mistress Claire,” the young lass continued, an eyebrow quirked in Claire’s direction. “Do ye want to talk about it? I have a canny ear and I willna gossip.”

She had an honest face, and Claire slumped into one of the stools, her chest expanding as she breathed in deeply. The bar area of inn was relatively quiet, it only being just after sunup and Claire felt as if unloading the burden of her choices might make it easier to leave Edinburgh and continue on with her journey.

“I’m…” Claire began, her eyes catching the lass’s as she stumbled over her words. She hadn’t spoke of her extended family to anyone. Jamie, yes. But only to Joe, Brianna and Roger and only very recently. Since her decision to come home she hadn’t discussed Jenny, Ian or Fergus with anyone.

“Dinna werrit, mistress, I think ye need a kindly ear.” Pulling the chair besides Claire out, the waitress (of sorts) placed her water jug on the table and put her hands gently around it. She waited patiently for Claire to recentre herself, a kind smile pulling at her mouth.

“I lost my husband. A long time ago now, but before…he made me promise to leave. Scotland wasn’t safe and I was pregnant. So I went, no word to anyone of why. But now –my daughter is grown and I felt…compelled to return. I don’t even know what my sister-in-law will -might- say. If I go.”

“And yer torn? Ye dinna want to go back now yer here?”

“No.” Claire’s cheeks heated at the mere mention of Jenny. “I do. But…I fear I might not be all that welcome. Having vanished all those years ago without even a letter to explain why. And adding to that the loss of her brother, it might just drag up a lot of buried hurt.”

“After you’ve travelled such a way, mistress, ye’d think of no’ just squaring yer shoulders and marching over there. Maybe you’ll find it happier than ye think? Wi’ the pair of you finding comfort in one another…even after such a long while.”

“You don’t know Janet Fraser Murray…” Claire mumbled under her breath, hopefully too low for the lass to hear. No recognition at the name showed in her eyes (if she had heard) and Claire heaved a sigh of relief. Licking her dry lips she choked back a sob at the last memories she had of Lallybroch and its inhabitants. “I wish I could believe you.”

“Then, if I may be so bold mistress, why did ye come if you didna think it a good idea?”

“Because this is home. More than any other place,” Claire returned without pausing for breath. “…and I thought they might like to know their niece, in portrait form anyway.”

“Then I think ye ken what you have to do, mistress Claire. Sup up and get ye gone! I dinna think ye’ll regret it.” Patting her hand, the lass got up to leave, pausing to top Claire’s glass with a wee morning dram before winking and sashaying away.

–

In the corner, awaiting Fiona’s attentions, Ian sat with his ears pricked. The strange English lass had mentioned ‘Janet Murray’. He couldn’t stop staring as he hid cautiously behind a bollard at the end of the long bar.

“Who’s that?” He whispered covertly to Fiona, as she walked towards him, pointing suspiciously to her abandoned table companion.

Fiona turned and then twisted back to face Ian, a look of trepidation on her face. “Who? Mistress Claire? She’s just a guest is all,” she replied, with the nonchalant twitch of a shoulder as she slid Ian his own glass. “Naybody fer yer young ears to be concerned with, aye?”

“Maybe,” he returned, waiting for the lass to leave before whispering over the rim of his tumbler, “but maybe so…if she kens my mam…”

–

It was the intricate filigree that caught her eye first. Masonic symbols were strewn throughout the sign but it wasn’t that that captured her attention. In between the complex metal work sat two (heavily obscured - but still there nonetheless) jagged letters. Slightly separated from one another, but to her there was a definite ‘J’ and ‘C’.

Claire’s heart stopped, and then proceeded to pound so hard that she felt as though her chest might implode.

The very clear name hanging beneath the swinging metal read simply - A. Malcolm; Printer.

Claire shook her head of the myriad thoughts that rolled through her brain at that precise moment. She castigated herself for being so foolhardy as she quickly strolled away, her eyes not catching the young lad as he watched from the window above.

Not possible, she said to herself over and over. Yes, A *could*, might…but probably not stand for ‘Alexander’. That would make the ‘J’ and ‘C’ investment *Jamie* and *Claire*.

But Jamie was dead. Buried (probably) with the rest of his regiment on that damnable moor. There was nothing to suggest that he’d lived, and she hadn’t stuck around long enough for Roger or Bree to unearth any concrete facts.

Claire had simply needed to vanish back into the past. Frank’s death had taught her one important lesson; never settle for less that you’re worth. Claire knew, wholeheartedly, that this was where she was supposed to be. And even though it had taken her just over twenty years to come to that - rather sane - conclusion, she wasn’t sorry for it.

But James Fraser was still a ghost, he was still as elusive as ever and not a sign nor some intangible facts could sway her to think otherwise.

Pulling her cloak up around her face, Claire quickly darted away from the small close, the thick wool catching the heavy droplets of Scottish mist as she turned the corner, not looking back.

–

Fergus held his breath for a moment longer than strictly necessary causing Ian to slap him squarely on the back.

“Who is she, man?” Ian whispered in his ear, his back studiously turned from Jamie who was hovering of the press. The noise from the machine kept him blissfully unaware of the conversation going on right under his nose. Too distracted by his nephew’s sudden appearance, he was working on a way to get the lad back to his mother - and quickly.

“Fils de pute…Ian, where did you see her first?”

Ian, confused as to Fergus’ obtuse answer tilted his head to the side as he surveyed his adopted cousin. Something was amiss, of that he was certain. Fergus had gone extremely pale, his grip increasing exponentially against the wooden window frame.

“Ye ken her then? How does she know my mam, Fergus?”

“Ian!” Fergus retorted, a stern edge to his hushed tones as he twisted and grabbed young Ian by his collar, “I asked for you to tell me. Where. Did. You. See. Her. First?”

“A-at the inn, the one where Uncle Jamie always rescues the Chinaman from.”

Nodding, Fergus looked back at Jamie, watching with caution as his adopted father scratched his scalp and went back to rearranging the letters on his press. “Whatever happens, Ian. We cannot let her leave the city. You,” he said with a forceful prod to the chest, “must ensure she stays at that inn - just for a day or so. Yes?”

“Alright,” Ian agreed, nodding vigorously as he stumbled from Fergus’s firm grip. “I’ll see to it that Fiona keeps her occupied. But seriously, man. Who is she?”

“She is Claire, mon petit frere. Or Aunty Claire to you.”

Ian’s jaw dropped at the title. He *had* heard, in the dark recesses of Lallybroch and on odd occasions in Jamie’s dreams when he’d snuck in to see his uncle safe, the name ‘Claire’. But he had been young and it had been infrequent. Now, however, the full force of understanding plowed through him.

“But the most important thing is that we *make sure* they meet, yes?”

“Aye,” Ian whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he peeked back at his uncle. “I agree.”

–

All packed and prepared to leave, Claire had collected her sparse collection of belongings and trekked downstairs within a day of her ridiculous musings out in Edinburgh. The city was starting to get under her skin and her mind was playing tricks on her. The sooner she made the trip to Lallybroch, the sooner she could quiet her demons.

But Fiona, her new confidant, had pulled her aside at the last minute, a jaunty glint in her eyes and a tall tale on her lips. Nevertheless, it had been an interesting tale and it had caused Claire to delay her plans for just a wee while.

Fiona had told Claire that the Murray’s intended to visit Edinburgh in the next few days on business, and that she was better off awaiting their arrival here - neutral ground - rather than travelling all that way back towards Inverness to be disappointed.

Claire was only a little dubious, after all, Jenny had never left Lallybroch whilst she had been around, even when Jamie had been taken to Fort William and flogged in the early days. But Fiona, she had found out, seemed to have credible information on the comings and goings of the city.

So she let her shoulders flop, turned on her heel, and returned to her rooms.

–

Ian waited below, sneaking to the bottom of the stairwell so that he could hear the conversation between the two ladies. Fergus had brandished him with some coins and bid him to pay for Claire’s suite to make doubly sure that she didn’t leave.

“She’s staying then, aye?” He whispered to Fiona as she moseyed back into the bar area.

“Aye, yer lassie isna going anywhere.” She winked, pocketing the silver bobbies Ian handed to her.

–

The sun had only just set as Claire made her way down to supper. It was late, but not late enough that the tap room would be full of drunks. She had discovered this was the perfect time to eat and nobody bothered her if she stowed away up a corner somewhere out of sight.

“Mistress!” Fiona shouted on her entrance into the small, but overrun room. The extravagant gesture caught her eye immediately. “I have something special for ye tonight, come and sit here.” Patting a stool close to the doorway, she placed a full ale-pot against the wooden tabletop and winked suspiciously.

Taking a step backwards, Claire shook her head infinitesimally. “I-I’d prefer somewhere…quieter. If you don’t mind?” She posed the reply as a question, but really she didn’t want to cause a scene.

Tipping her head to the side, a canny grin plastered on her face, Fiona shook her head, her tight (perfectly circular, Claire noted with some jealousy) curls bobbing against her pinked cheeks as she patted the chair with more vigor now. “Ach. No, Claire. Ye canna hide yersel’ away. Come, sit here and chat wi’ me. Please…”

Rolling her eyes, Claire acquiesced with a slight sense of grim acceptance. She could do worse than making friends with a kindly young woman - especially since Claire *assumed* it was her who’d placed down the fee for Claire’s extra nights when her coins had run down. Pulling her knitted shawl tightly around her shoulders, she pulled the final few bobby pins from her updo and let her damp curls fall around her shoulders. She’d twisted it up into a rough bun in preparation for her trip back across rugged Scotland and had forgotten to pull it back down in the hours since. But she felt happier shielding her face as the space began to fill with more and more workers as their days ended.

It was beginning to heat up as Fiona brought Claire a nice, large bowl a stew. The broth looked inviting and before long Claire had cleared the whole dish, her stomach growling happily at the warm food as its nourishment began to course through her veins.

Suddenly her spine began to prickle and she swept her curls aside. She had the uncanny feeling that someone’s eyes were upon her and, although she couldn’t yet see who that was, her gaze began to float around the bustling tavern.

Her heart thudded evenly in her chest as she took in one happy, tipsy Scotsman after another. But nothing out of the ordinary piqued her interest.

Out of the corner of her eye a flash of red caught her attention, and she swivelled (in a *very* unladylike manner) to try and catch a glimpse. The crowd though, jolly and in deep (loud) conversation with one another, seemed to swallow up the sight and Claire placed her hand over her heart as if to calm herself.

‘It’s nothing, just your imagination,’ she self-flagellated, her bottom coming to rest back in the stool once more. In her momentary haze she’d tensed her legs and ended up half-squatting over the chair like a lioness waiting to strike her prey.

Without warning a scrawny blonde lad came darting through the inn, his limbs flailing in some cartoonish moves as he darted this way and that, trying to avoid the grumbling cliental of the lively alehouse.

“Ian! Ye wee fiend…” came a familiar cry, his deep Scots burr ringing in Claire’s ears as she clung to the table for dear life. “…get BACK HERE!”

Claire’s palms sweat; the dampness seeping into the wood that seemed to grow up and around her fingers as the world flipped on its axis. She knew that voice, she was certain. But the knowledge that had haunted her of his death all of these years was deeply ingrained and the more rational part of her was certain she’d concocted this whole sordid evening out of pure want.

Certain that she would turn and see a stranger, Claire slammed her eyes shut and inhaled one really deep breath. Stale ale filled her nostrils as she gasped and re-opened her eyes. Persistent chatter surrounded her, the white noise dissipating as her head stopped spinning. The argument between the lad -named Ian- and his soon-to-be-captor seemed to have petered away in the time that Claire had been semi-unconscious and she could no longer hear the voice she so desperately wished was real.

Considering herself safe for the time being, Claire turned on her chair to survey the room once more, her skin still flickering with the latent feeling of being watched.

It was then her heart stopped dead in her chest, its beat pumping out one intense thump before ceasing…or so she felt.

His eyes were directly on hers; those blue pools that had captivated and enslaved her all those years ago. She recalled the subtle flecks of yellow that curled around his pupils, only visible when in certain flickering candlelight, her instinct picking up the most redundant details as the rest of her body shut down and then restarted once more, shock filling every inch of her.

Her throat dried and her eyes watered as she stood, without consciously thinking of her actions, and stepped (in time with him) forwards.

Claire blinked for the first time in what felt like forever, her vision blurring and then righting itself in the candlelit room as the tears began to cascade down her face. His cheeks were already wet, the moisture collecting at the corners of his twitching mouth as he tried to decide whether to laugh, cry more or faint…ineloquently (of course).

It was a dream.

It *had* to be a dream, she told herself, her mouth moving as she soundlessly muttered the words over and over.

Finally, face to face, the slight lines of age marring their faces, Claire allowed herself the courage to speak. Lifting her fingers in time with his, she reached out hesitantly, her hand jerking back on contact with his heated flesh.

“Jamie…”

“Claire…”

They spoke at the same time, the crackle in each of their voices sounding exceptionally loud even though they were only talking in hushed whispers in the middle of the extremely busy taproom.

“…you’re alive!”

“…you’re here!”

[trueloveseyeroll]

When The Tide Turns (2/16)

Summary:  The plan was to go to England, finish the case and head back home in a matter of days. Of course, nothing in Emma’s life ever goes according to plan. Not only does she end up travelling across Europe, looking for a Liam Jones in order to finish her case, she ends up travelling with Liam’s brother - an annoyingly handsome Killian Jones. And she doesn’t trust him one bit.

Rating: T, for language and a bit of violence later on

Beta-reader: the lovely @forget-me-not-s  :))

Artists: check out @theblacksiren’s beautiful artwork for chapter 1 here and @optomisticgirl ‘s banner here. And while we wait for @fairytalesandtimetravel ‘s amazing artwork for a later chapter, go check out all her other stuff! Now three cheers for these three fantastic artists!

Word count: ~3,958 (68k+ in total)

A/N: I’ve been so excited to post this next chapter and hopefully some of your questions will be answered!! Thank you all for the lovely response for chapter 1 - I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the fic :))) 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |  Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 |  Chapter 12 |  Chapter 13 |  Chapter 14 |  Chapter 15 |

AO3

Old roads and crooked alleyways shaped the bones of Willesby. Brick houses lined the streets, the Jones’ factory standing tall at the outskirts of the village. In daylight, Emma could see the ocean beyond the hills. The true charm of Willesby though, sparked from the nautical decorations that gave life to the bleak façades all around. A ship’s wheel hanging here and there, oars hanging above doors, a large compass chiselled into stone, and a ship at Emma’s height carved out of one block of wood. The innkeeper had been right when he said that The Brothers Jones had given life to the village. Their love of the sea had made a port town out of the streets amongst the hills.

The notary’s office looked much the same. Rich red wood dominated most of the room. Not just the floor, but the panelling on the wall, the furniture, the doors and even the picture frames. In contrast, paintings of the sea in all its colours adorned the walls. On Mr. Clark’s desk stood a model of a ship, The Brothers Jones painted on its hull.

“Do take a seat, Miss Swan. Please.” Mr. Clark, a short man with an obvious sniffle sat behind his desk, waving Emma into the room.

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” Emma sat in one of the two lavish chairs by Mr. Clark’s desk.

“Of course, I was waiting for you! I received a fax from your office yesterday, outlining the situation.”

“Great.” Emma’s terse smile was one she reserved for lawyer meetings. She dropped it after a split second. “We were very sorry to hear of Mr. Jones’ passing.” And pretty damn shocked too.

“It is indeed tragic. Barrie was a good friend of mine.” Mr. Clark ran a finger over the hull of the model ship. “It frightens us all when a healthy man suddenly dies at 74, doesn’t it?”

Emma didn’t know what to answer. She resorted to nodding.

“About the business, Mr. Clark, the negotiations of the sale between Mr. Jones and my client were almost finished, so I trust that you and I will be able to conclude it?” She hated to come across as crass, but the death of a man she had never met wasn’t an easy topic. She had come here to finish a case - now was the time to do it.

“Don’t set your hopes too high, Miss Swan. I’m afraid it won’t be as straightforward as we had thought, and I probably won’t be of much help to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma narrowed her eyes at the solicitor. “I thought everything was agreed. We have Barrie Jones’ written consent and his death does nothing to invalidate that.”

Mr. Clark swiped at his nose with a tissue. “I understand, Miss Swan. But there’s an unforeseen complication.” His choice of words felt overdone coming from his mouth. Too formal for a small guy like him. Mr. Clark cleared his throat and hesitated through his next sentence while Emma kept her irritation from showing. “You see, there’s an heir.”

“An heir?” She must have misheard him. “We were told there was no heir. Mr. Jones never married and he definitely never mentioned this ‘detail’ throughout the negotiations.”

“I was as surprised as you are, believe me. Everyone thought Barrie Jones was the last of the family alive, but he sent me a letter two days before his death, saying otherwise. Understand, Miss Swan, that had I known about this earlier, I would’ve informed you.”

So far he had had three days to inform Emma or her office of this letter. Emma fought not to call him out on his laziness. Mr. Clark coughed as he retrieved the letter from his desk drawer, handing it over to Emma.

“So who is this heir? I suppose I’ll just have to sign the contracts with him or her, right?”

“Liam Jones; Barrie’s nephew. Brennan - that is, Liam’s father - didn’t always see eye to eye with Barrie, so Liam never lived here in Willesby. He was an adventurous sailor though. Here in Willesby, we always thought he died in an accident on the sea about nine years ago. Apparently, we were wrong,” Mr. Clark gestured towards the letter.

Emma had read about Brennan in her files. The older of the two brothers, he had been meant to take over the family business, or at least run it with his brother Barrie. The factory hadn’t interested Brennan though. He had left Willesby, and died about twenty years ago. But Emma’s files had never mentioned any Liam.

“So where can I find Liam Jones?”

Mr. Clark blew his nose again, and Emma had an odd sense he was trying to hide behind his tissue.

“I don’t know, Miss Swan. All I know is written in that letter, and Barrie only wrote that he had corresponded with Liam for several years. He seems to be travelling around Europe.”

Travelling around Europe. Well, that narrowed it down. Emma unfolded the letter in her hand, skimming Mr. Jones’ words. There wasn’t much information she could use. First two paragraphs of how old Barrie had started to feel. Then a couple of sentences about Liam, a man everyone had presumed dead; nothing specific about his whereabouts.

“Now, I have told you as much as I know, and so the situation in legal terms should be clear. If you want to conclude the sale, you have to find Liam Jones. Believe me, Miss Swan, when I say that I am most sorry for this regrettable setback. Most sorry.”

“Great.” Emma was as insincere as Mr. Clark’s apologies. “What now then?”

“Perhaps you will find more information in Barrie’s office? I have a key here. Two actually,” Mr. Clark fumbled for the keys in his desk drawer before handing them to Emma. “One for the factory and one for the office. I believe my role in this affair finishes here, Miss Swan. If you’ll excuse me, I must rest. You see, my health is not excellent at the moment and my doctor forbids me from working for too long. It’s been a pleasure, Miss Swan. Do not forget to close the door as you leave.”

And like that, Mr. Clark rose to leave the office through a side door, Emma barely managing to say goodbye before he was gone. She stayed in her chair for a moment longer.

An heir. Her mind clung to the word, as if saying it enough times would make it untrue. There was an heir somewhere in Europe, an heir she needed to find if she wanted to conclude this case.

With a sigh, Emma rose from her chair and left the office. Dark clouds greeted her outside, and she fought to keep herself from kicking a lamp post out of frustration. Instead, she followed the road to its end, towards the Jones’ factory.

She did not look forward to calling Regina about this.

The lock gave a last satisfying click before Killian removed the lock picks. Still crouching, he tugged the handle and pushed the door open with a wide grin. It only took him a minute this time; he was getting better at this lock-picking-business.

Killian stood in the doorway for a moment, holding his breath as he looked around the office. He had only been there once before. How old had he been then? Eight? Nine? It had been shortly after his father’s death - that much he remembered. As a child, when Barrie let him enter his office, Killian had felt humbled. Much like then, he now felt like he was intruding on something much greater than he could ever become.

Killian swallowed his uncertainty and stepped over the threshold. Barrie’s desk stood to the left, a great painting of the original brothers Jones on the wall behind it. Matthew Jones, Killian’s great-grandfather, stood proud beside his younger brother Michael.

Two windows framed the painting and let light into the office. His uncle wasn’t a tidy man, that much was clear. Piles of papers littered his desk, some with only a few notes written on them, others with sketches or elaborate drawings. Books lay open and a pen lay ready for scribbling, as if Barrie had only left for a short moment.

The object Killian sought wasn’t on the desk though. He pulled out every drawer on each side of the desk only to find more drawings of boats and compasses and even constellations. Killian ruffled through all the papers, hoping to find something underneath.

With pursed lips, he closed the final drawer and looked at the desk again. What an utter mess. A spindle stacked with bills caught his eye. He wasn’t here to look through papers, yet the bold letters on the bills intrigued him.

Overdue

Killian leafed through each invoice, all of them informing his uncle Barrie of overdue payments and stressing the financial liability of the factory. Killian’s brows stitched together. Did the business really struggle that much? And what would become of it now that Barrie had passed away, leaving behind all this debt? The entire business would probably be sold off and torn down. Killian tried to ignore the several regrets looming at the back of his mind. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he found that bloody trinket.

On the other side of the room stood a file cabinet, as wide as the wall behind it. Killian had no interest in going through more papers though.

Instead, Killian turned to the cabinet against the wall opposite of the door. It was as rich in its design as the desk. Books lined the shelves, along with several trinkets; model ships, an octant, even a souvenir of the London Eye. If the item Killian sought wasn’t here, it wasn’t in the office at all.

He studied each shelf carefully, skimming the spines of maritime textbooks and old classics. One classic in particular caught his attention: Peter and Wendy. Killian grinned, remembering his uncle’s fascination of Peter Pan and Neverland. After all, the stories had been what started this whole mess in the first place.

Killian pulled the book out of its place with a finger on its top. His tug was met with resistance and a subtle click. Killian’s grin only grew wider as the mechanism activated.

What a classic way to hide your secrets, uncle.

The back of the shelf lifted, revealing a hidden space behind it. A space once again littered with both everything and nothing. Killian pulled out old photographs, a teddy bear that had seen better days, a battered notebook and several drawings. The shelf was a mess of rubbish to put it lightly. Items of no value to anyone but Barrie.

Killian shifted through the trinkets and papers, hoping it would be there. Hiding one item of value amidst unimportant things was exactly the kinds of thing his uncle would do. That way, it could easily be overlooked by any thieves or nosy guests. He just had to -

There.

Killian almost laughed, so thrilled to have found it at last. He grasped the round trinket, studying its beauty for a mere moment before tucking it into a pocket of his leather jacket. Finally feeling the weight of it by his side, Killian could rest easy. He looked at the mess on the shelf one last time, his eyes flickering towards a pile of letters.

He knew that handwriting.

Killian reached for the bundle of letters, three in total, with an unsure hand. Liam. They were letters from Liam. He admired the familiar writing on the envelopes, forgetting his former purpose. No matter how much he had tried, Liam was not something he could push away and ignore.

A clang from outside the office startled Killian.

Bloody hell.

The stairs from the work floor to the office - they were of metal grid. That clang meant someone was coming.

Killian’s eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. The office was on the second floor, he couldn’t possibly jump from the window.

The footsteps were getting closer. Killian glanced at the door, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no way out. Whoever entered the door in a few seconds would find him like a deer caught in the headlights - or more accurately, an intruder caught red-handed.

He stuffed the letters in his coat, looked around one last time and made a quick decision.

Bloody buggering hell.

Emma leaned her head back to take in the building as she stood by its door. There was something gothic about the architecture. Maybe gothic wasn’t the right word, but she had never paid much attention in her few choice lectures on architecture. The Jones factory was a grand building, that much she could vouch for. With dark bricks, arched windows and doors, wings on each side and endless details, it might as well have been some sort of cathedral.

Emma chose the bigger of the two keys, sliding it into the lock. She felt odd turning it. The click of the door unlocking and the creaking as she opened it urged her to cringe. She had a key - even explicit permission from the notary - yet she still felt guilty. Like she was breaking and entering. A chill ran through her at the thought.

The door opened to a large open room with miles to the ceiling, or so it seemed. Emma stood in the doorway for a moment, soaking everything in. An assembly line twisted its way through the room with different machines at each station. Pipes followed the line about, creating a net of metal a few feet above Emma’s head.

It certainly looked like a factory. Emma had wondered how compasses and sextants and the likes were made. She had imagined by hand. Like an old-clock worker. The Jones factory was just one large platform, a mixture of machines and tables where workers could do their thing.

Emma wandered about for a few minutes, imagining what the place looked like when the engines were running, the large furnaces in the corner sparking with heat. She almost forgot her initial purpose.

Right. The office. Find the office.

To the right of the main door, a stair led to a gangway with a nice view of the entire factory. The stairs also led to a door, which had to lead to the office.

Against the factory floor, Emma’s steps had been muffled. But against the metal grid of the stairs, clangs echoed throughout the entire building - a stark reminder of how silent the place was. No factory should ever feel this abandoned without even the whirring of an engine. It was like all life had just vanished.

Emma pulled the second key - the smaller one - out of her pocket and slid it into the door lock. Turning it to the left, she heard no click. To the right instead, she heard the wrong sort of click. Emma tugged at the door handle and her suspicions were confirmed. The door had been unlocked before - now it wouldn’t budge. Emma turned the key again. Maybe Mr. Jones wasn’t a stickler for privacy?

Finally, the door gave way and Emma stepped into Barrie Jones’ office. She noticed the sun first. It had found its way through the dark clouds, leaving two long stripes of light on the floor by each window. A few papers lay strewn about. They had probably fallen off of the clutter on the desk. Emma’s face fell at the thought off all those papers she’d have to go through. In addition, there was a file cabinet the size of the entire wall on the other side of the room.

Here’s to hoping he at least organizes his mess.

Emma stood in the centre of the office for a moment, letting her eyes gloss over everything. A painting of two well-dressed men hung on the wall between the windows. The original brothers Jones perhaps? She studied them for a second, squinting her eyes against the light-

The desk chair shifted. The screech of wooden legs against wooden floor lingered. What the hell?

Emma narrowed her eyes at the desk. “Someone there?”

No one answered. Emma kept her eyes on the back of the desk. Whoever hiding there wasn’t doing a very good job. But why was someone hiding there? She was about to say something again or walk over to the desk and expose who ever hid there when the chair shifted once more.

“Swan?”

A head of dark hair popped up from under the desk.

“Hook?”

He looked as surprised as she felt.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you, love.”

“Hey, I had a key. You’re… hiding under a desk.”

Hook, still crouched on the floor, surveyed the desk with amusement. “Not as much hiding as enjoying the view. You’ll find that the spaces under desks are quite riveting here in England.”

This guy was full of crap.

Hook scooted the chair further backwards and stood tall behind the desk. Emma’s eyes flickered between him and the men in the painting behind him, a part of her noticing an odd resemblance. The thought was fleeting though.

Hook surveyed Emma as she surveyed him. A challenge sparked between them. Who would explain themselves first?

“You didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who hides under tables.”

“Then what kind of man did I strike you as?” He dodged her meaning with a lewd grin.

“A cheeky bastard,” Emma deadpanned. He laughed at that. “Seriously, how did you even get in here? The door to the building was locked and I didn’t see any open windows.”

“I have my ways,” Hook wiggled his fingers in the air. Emma narrowed her eyes at him again. She hadn’t slept on the shoulder of some criminal had she?

“What are you doing here?” She kept her voice low and level, turning on her lawyer persona.

Hook feigned a sigh and walked around the desk to stand in front of it as he spoke. “If you must know, Swan, I was merely looking around. My father used to be great friends with Barrie. I’m simply interested in learning about the man I’m here to pay respects to on the behalf of my departed father.”

Something ticked inside Emma. Something was off about his words, but she couldn’t place it.

“I panicked a bit when I heard someone coming - wasn’t sure how they would take my snooping about.” A faint blush tinted his cheeks. “The desk seemed the best choice. Precautions and all.” He reached up to scratch a spot behind his ear as he spoke. Then he leaned against the desk behind him, crinkling a few papers as he did so, and raised a brow at Emma. “So, it’s tit for tat, I believe. What’s your story?”

Emma studied him for a moment longer, trying to see why her lie detector was going off. He seemed sincere enough in his words. Something was just… off.

“I’m a lawyer,” she started. “I’m here to finish the sale of the business.”

Hook’s eyes widened for a moment but he was quick to conceal his surprise. Not before Emma noticed though.

“I suppose that’s rather hard to do with Barrie deceased,” he said.

You have no idea, Emma thought.

“It complicates things…” She paused, realizing that Hook’s sudden presence could be a great help to her. “Hey, if you say your dad knew Barrie well, did he ever mention a Liam Jones? Barrie’s nephew?”

Hook swallowed and shook his head slightly. “Not much. He died at sea about a decade ago, didn’t he?”

He fidgeted ever so little, but enough for Emma to see. He was hiding something. Definitely.

“No, not really. But I guess I have to start looking through all the papers in here to figure out more.” Her shoulders dropped in a show of exhaustion.

“Important for the sale, is he?”

Emma smiled, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Afraid I can’t tell.”

“Ah, of course. Lawyers and their confidentiality.”

“At least not until you tell me what it is you’re not telling me,” Emma finished.

“Pardon?”

“You’re hiding something. What is it?”

Hook challenged her by mirroring her stance, arms folded and brows raised. “What makes you so sure I’m hiding something?”

“You wouldn’t be so defensive if you weren’t.” She’d rather not have to explain her superpower to him.

Hook gave up the challenge quicker than she had expected. He dropped the teasing look and uncrossed his arms. When he reached into his pocket, Emma’s back stiffened. She didn’t really think he was keeping something harmful. Still. Precautions and all.

“In truth, Swan, this is why I’m here.”

Emma looked at the object in his hand, carefully held out for her to see.

“A compass?”

“Aye. Not just any compass though,” Hook kept his eyes on it as he spoke, running his thumb over the glass. “My father gave it to Barrie once long ago. I never completely understood the significance of it, but it meant a great deal to my old man”

“So you’re stealing it.”

“I do have the name of a pirate, don’t I?” Hook grinned. And dammit, Emma couldn’t help but smile too. Just a little. She barely even lifted the corners of her mouth.

“I’m not proud of the way I handled the situation when I heard you coming, but in all honesty, I don’t think I could have been more relieved than I was when I heard that American accent of yours.” There he was again with the smarmy words.

“I just told you I’m a lawyer. Shouldn’t you be scared I’m going to hand you over to the cops or something?”

“Will you?”

His stare feigned honest wonder, but he clearly didn’t believe she would. What made him so sure of that? Emma held his stare for a few seconds before shrugging.

“Not really worth it. No one else is gonna find much use of that thing but you, so I guess I can let it slide.”

“I am most grateful, Swan,” Hook bowed his head at her and tucked the compass back into his jacket.

“Yeah, well, you should probably get going before I change my mind.”

He gave her look that easily read ‘you wouldn’t dare’. Nonetheless, he pushed away from the desk and almost made to leave.

“Could I be of any assistance with looking through all the papers?”

Emma smiled. “Nah. You know, ‘lawyers and their confidentiality’ and all that.”

Hook’s lips curled in a grin. Once again, he nodded his head at Emma.

“I’ll see you around then, Swan.”

She wanted to ask why he was so sure of that, but remembered he would probably be at the memorial in the evening as well. Furthermore, he was already on his way through the door.

“Stay out of trouble ‘till then,” she called after him.

“I’ll do my best.” Hook closed the door with one last cheeky smile. His descent down the stairs rattled the office and echoed even when all went silent again. Emma stood in the office alone, trying to gather her thoughts. And motivation. She probably could have used an extra hand for all these papers. She’d look for letters first, that would at least narrow it down. And a list of workers at the factory - Barrie couldn’t possibly be running everything on his own.

Emma set to work, finding a quiet rhythm, glad to at least be doing something. If only her cheeks would cool down.

[tastesoftamriel]

The tip of Morrowind (a long tale by Talviel)

Middas, 20th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 207. I was in Dragonstar, Hammerfell, after spending months in Elsweyr, and was researching recipes. I had also just celebrated my 24th birthday quietly. Well, almost quietly. On the 17th itself, a courier came bounding into the inn I was staying at, and dumped half a satchel of letters in front of me while I was in the middle of grating zucchini in the kitchen. “I’ve been looking for you. Got something I’m supposed to deliver, your hands only. Got lots of messages for you!” He announced cheerily. “I’ll leave you to your zucchini. Well that’s it, got to go!” I stared at the pile of letters that I only ever got in this quantity once a year, then ignored them in favour of the zucchini. The letters could wait- zucchini balls with tzatziki could not.

When I’d finally finished cooking, eating, and helping the innkeep clean up, I took the armful of letters to my room to peruse. Most were from friends and acquaintances I had made in Cyrodiil, wishing me a happy birthday and a prosperous year. A smaller pile came from across Skyrim, and I found one from my Dunmer friend Lisandre. I set it aside, looking expectantly at the last few letters from Riften. There were three. One was from my parents, another from Keerava, and the last one was from Brynjolf. While we’d written to each other over the years I’d been on the road, our messages became shorter, less cordial, and more sporadic. He mainly talked about how breaking Nocturnal’s curse had made the Guild flourish again and how they were beginning to branch out across Tamriel. I broke the seal of his letter, expecting more of that. The familiar smell of cinnamon and cloves greeted me as I unfolded the parchment.

“Lass, happy birthday. I don’t know where in Tamriel you are, but I trust that the courier will get this to you safely. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you off on your last visit, but I enjoyed the time we did spend together. The Guild sends their best wishes, and we all miss you. Delvin and Vex are plotting the best way to get you to come back to us, but I know your heart is set on your career, and as I’ve always said, I’m happy for you, lass. Hope you can come back and visit us poor folk in Riften again soon, liven up the place a bit. Eyes open, and walk with the shadows. Yours, Brynjolf.”

I smiled sadly, my heart racing. Unrequited love was more of a pain than a mountain lion on skooma. I tucked his letter into the envelope I used to store all of his previous ones, that I always read whenever I missed him. Sniffling and wiping at my eyes, I turned my attention at last to Lisandre’s letter.

“Greetings, Talviel! Word on the street is that it’s your birthday, so happy birthday and big hugs from Gat and I (even though you’ve never met him)! Anyway, just writing because I’m a little bored. Back home now at Lakeview, which is nice and all but my hammer needs some blood. Feel bad about doing any adventuring around now because Gat could use the company, but I’ve been thinking of finally going to Morrowind after the new year. Slightly embarrassing, a Dunmer of my age never having been back to her own place of origin. Don’t know where you’ll be around then, but you’ve spent a lot of time there so I was hoping we could meet up. No pressure, let me know what you think. Anyway, wherever in Tamriel you are, happy birthday. Thinking of you and sending good thoughts your way. ~Lisandre”

I pondered Lisandre’s message. I was setting out the next day to Evermor, which was just across the border into High Rock, and I was planning on spending a month or so going through the region. I had also been offered good coin to cook a banquet at both Castle Wayrest the Sentinel Palace whenever I was there next, so I decided to take them up on the offer. It would take me another month to get to Windhelm, where the ship to Solstheim sailed from, so the timing would be perfect as I hadn’t been to Morrowind in some time. I wrote a letter to warn Wayrest and Sentinel ahead of time and to prepare the ingredients I’d need, then dipped my quill into my inkpot again to pen a message back to Lisandre.

“Hi Lis, thanks for the birthday greetings, and I hope you and Gat are well. Would love to take you over to Morrowind, but I’m only really familiar with Solstheim and Blacklight since the rest of the country is really just ash and small settlements since The Red Year and never really recovered from what I’ve heard, even despite the Great Restoration. I don’t think I’ll have time to explore the rest as I’ve made up my mind to head west early next year, so I probably won’t accompany you through the rest of the country. Once we’re done, I’m sure you’ll have found your feet enough to make the rest of the journey on your own! Let’s meet in Windhelm on the second week of Morning Star, and we catch the ship to Soltsheim from there. Let me know if this is agreeable to you or if you have any change in plans. Hugs, Talviel.”

I sealed the letter with wax and went to find a courier heading to Skyrim before checking on Roach and making sure my bags were packed for the morning. At first light, we trotted into Hammerfell to wait out the month. The time flew by as I cooked and learned and taught. The banquets went flawlessly and my coin pouch was close to splitting. I sketched the scenery, wandered the wilderness, and occasionally woke up naked next to someone. As Evening Star came to a close, I got on my horse and made the long trip to Windhelm. I contemplated stopping by Riften, but the thought of seeing Brynjolf again and knowing he didn’t love me made my heart break. I just couldn’t face him, as much as I wanted to.

I stayed at Candlehearth Hall, and was chatting to a Redguard at the bar when the door swung open, Lisandre tromping the snow off her boots and blowing her hands to shake off the cold. She looked through the crowd and waved excitedly when she saw me. “Hello love, give us a hug! How are you?” She called out, making her way towards me. “Hi Lisandre, long time no see! Can I get you a drink?” “Damn right you can. It’s freezing out there, I’ve always hated this city. One mulled wine please!” She called to the bartender, who brought over a steaming tankard. We toasted to friendship and talked about what we’d been doing in the past few months. As the evening wore on, she began to draw into herself, which was unusual. “Everything alright, Lis?” I asked, signalling for another cup of warm cider. “Well…not really. I should go to the Grey Quarter, see my family and whatnot. Tell them I’m going to the motherland, that should make their bitter asses happy. I don’t really want to go, but…I probably should.” I took a gulp of cider, nodding my head. “Do what you need to do. Just come back here if things don’t work out and you need a place to sleep. If not, the boat leaves at 7am sharp tomorrow so I’ll see you at the docks by 7.45 at latest.” Lisandre smiled wanly and slid her tankard across the bar. “Nah, should be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid. Have a good night with that Redguard woman, she’s making eyes at you.”

I snuck out of bed the next morning, the Redguard woman still fast asleep. Yawning while drinking from a bottle of potion of stamina, I made my way down to the docks and waited for Lisandre in the snow. She turned up just before seven, walking as if her satchel and warhammer weighed a tonne. “How’d last night go?” She grunted at me in reply then skulked onto the boat, sitting down and looking grumpy. “I’ll take that as ‘not so great’. I’ve brought us some breakfast.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood and offering her some bread with cheese and salmon. “Lay off, Talviel. Really not in the mood right now.” She sighed, pulling her hood over her head and falling asleep. She slept all the way until we hit the port in Raven Rock, and she looked around groggily, rubbing her eyes. “Welcome to Solstheim, Lis.” I said, helping her to her feet as she yawned and stretched. Glover Mallory, the brother of Delvin in Riften, waved to me from the bellows as I walked past his forge. I promised I’d come by later to chat. I led her to my house, Severin Manor, which was dusty and cold. I made a mental note to hire a housekeeper, and showed Lisandre down to the spare bedroom, which I also used to store random armour, weapons, and knick knacks that might come in handy.

“If you’re still tired, have a little nap and we can explore the island later.” I said to Lisandre. “Are you kidding me? I saw a potion seller on the way here. Gonna get me a few of those stamina ones and we can start.” She removed her valuables and any unnecessary items from her person, hefted her hammer, and slapped her face to wake herself up. We made our way outside and she went to buy herself some potions and food while I caught up with Glover and got him to sharpen my sword. We met at the centre of the square, now busy with miners and a fair few more merchants than I’d previously seen, while she ate hungrily from a large kebab filled with ash yam falafel. “These fings are weally good!” She giggled between a mouthful of food, and I was relieved to see her in better spirits.

We left the town, meandering north along the coast. I pointed out the ruins of the monuments Miraak had left behind during our battle while I was taking a ‘break’ from chasing after Alduin. A few miles along, we spotted a group of hunters, shooting at a netch family. Lisandre gawped in wonder. “Are those…netches?” She asked, drawing her warhammer and clearly eager to join in the fight. “Yes, they are, but I wouldn’t recommend running in swinging that hammer. Those tentacles lash out fast with huge force, and send out a nice shock at the same time. Gonna shoot them with arrows like those hunters, and I’ll let you do the final honours with your hammer once they’re down.” I explained, stringing an arrow. We ran towards the netches as the hunters shot bravely, though one of their men was down. I whistled a call of greeting and they whistled back. I began shooting at the bull netch as they attacked the betty and calf, and I yelled for Lisandre to quickly finish them off when they splashed into the water. She nimbly leapt to action, smashing in the brains of the calf before jumping onto the back of the betty without missing a beat. Her acrobatics went unnoticed though, as the hunters had gathered around me as we made our final attack on the bull. As it groaned and fell into the water, Lisandre leapt up and smashed it several times over the head for good measure. The hunters clapped and whooped, and we all divided the netch jelly between us. “This stuff stinks.” Lis complained, jamming her share into an empty potion bottle.

Over the next four days, we made our gentle meandering way through the island, as I explained the lay of the land and my history with it. Lisandre was intrigued by Hermaeus Mora. I strongly opposed her, shaking my head. “Never, ever in my life do I want to have anything to do with that particular Daedric Prince ever again.” I shuddered, as we climbed our way north towards the Skaal village. Along the way, we plundered some Riekling camps and caves for the fun of it, happily pocketing our loot. Frea, the shaman and head of the Skaal happily accommodated us for a night, before we made our way to the giant mushroom lair of Neloth, the powerful and eccentric Telvanni mage. Before I went in to say hello and hoping that he was in a good enough mood to enchant some items for me, we stared with awe at the giant mushrooms. “That, Talviel, has got to be the weirdest thing I have ever seen.” Lisandre said, scratching her head. “Just wait til you see who’s inside, and you’ll probably change your mind.” I sighed, as we ascended the steps.

Several hours later, we found ourselves back at Raven Rock after being berated, belittled, and almost conned into being test subjects for another of Neloth’s new experimental spells (I had to drag Lisandre out through the lift portal before she could gleefully agree). We spent the night back at Severin Manor, and the next day we were ready to face Blacklight. The boat trip over took only half an hour, and Lisandre fiddled nervously with her scarf. “So, the city of my people, at last. I wish I could have seen Vvardenfell before the Red Year, behold the glory of the Dunmer before we were literally reduced to ash.” “As far as I know, time-turning spells have all ended in disaster, so this is what we’ve got now. Don’t look so glum, you’re finally on the way to the capital of Morrowind!” I punched her arm gently. We stepped off the boat, shouldering our satchels, and made our way into the city. The towering Rootspire, the seat of the Grand Council, dominated Blacklight from its centre. Dome-shaped houses like those in Raven Rock were dotted around in neat clusters. The Redoran Guard patrolled the city, which was by all means one of the most orderly places I’d ever been to in all of Tamriel, due to it having been put together as the seat of the Dunmer after the Red Year. I suggested we make our way to a cornerclub to settle in first, and Lis agreed.

We spent the rest of the day wandering the city. Commerce was good as the markets were bustling and shops of all kinds were open for business. “I’ve…I’ve never seen so many Dunmer anywhere in my entire life!” Lisandre exclaimed, looking giddy as we made our way through the busy central streets and past the Temple of Azura. “So, what do you think?” I asked. “Well…it’s a bit small. A lot smaller than I expected, really. But…this is what’s left of us, and so be it. I just hope those people in Rootspire know what they’re doing.” She said resolutely. “I know I’ll probably never see it in my lifetime, but maybe one day Vvardenfell will stand as tall and proud as it was.” “Your lifetime? You’re an elf, you’ll probably live to a thousand if you look after yourself. Morrowind will be back on its feet in no time in comparison. And for your sake, I really hope so. Anyway, now we’ve seen everything, let’s go get some sujamma.” I said, clapping her on the back. She grabbed my hand before I could turn back in the direction of the inn. “Talviel, I know I can just take Dunmeth Pass to get back to Windhelm, but…I’m not done. I know you’ve got work to do, but after tomorrow, we part ways. I know that Vvardenfell is still just ashes and settlements, but I want to see it with my own eyes. See where my people came from. Gnisis, Balmora, Mournhold.” “I get that. There’s always hope with what they’ve started in Vvardenfell probably, since they started on the Great Reconstruction, but I don’t know about the outlying parts of the region. Be careful.” I said, and we linked arms, strolling back to the cornerclub.

The next day, I woke up with a pounding head, and I knocked on Lisandre’s room door to see if she was up. “Come in!” She yelled. I stumbled into her room in my dressing robe, rubbing my eyes. She was sitting in bed, looking a little rough around the edges and sipping from a potion of restore stamina. She looked up at me blearily, before bursting out into an outrageous cackle. “What?” I asked, confused. “Oh by Vivec’s floating balls, I’m never going to pick a room next to yours ever again. Woman, you are loud!” Flashbacks of the night before came back to me, and I groaned. Something to do with a red-headed Dunmer and a lot of sujamma. Lisandre mimicked me, moaning. “Oh, yes, Daddy, Brynjolf, please, oh, fuck me, oh Brynjolf…” I covered my face, blushing so hard I thought I was going to burn the room down. “Nooo, Lisandre, stop, not funny!” “Are you kidding me? That was the best entertainment since I punched Rolff Stone-Fist in the face!” “Lis, I know he was an asshole but why on earth…never mind, it’s too early for this.” “Nope, not letting you off the hook. Brynjolf is definitely not a Dunmer name. The man you dragged into your room was definitely a Dunmer. When we first met, you said you didn’t have a beau. So, who’s the mystery Nord?” She grinned, passing me a stamina potion. I took a large swig and winced, beginning my long and embarrassing story. “Okay, so…”

[greyhawk5e]

DUNGEONS & DRAGONS

To Market, To Market

A Third Level World of Greyhawk Adventure for 5th Edition Dungeons & Dragons

Main NPCs

Onar, Apprentice of Rary, Sorcerer of the Bright Desert, arrogant and charming

disguise : Vyran Flent, of the Society of Magi of Greyhawk

Lord Hayden Thistlemane, Shadowclaw Wizard undercover in Furyondy, chummy and smarmy

Rautheene, Apprentice of Mordenkainen, competent, confident, keeps secrets

Alene Wylde – Wizard of Furyondy – Expert on Aerdy Antiquities, Seeker, SO excited by the history of the Great Kingdom, able to geek out about it at the drop of a hat

Brother Ewan – The Abbott of Profound Insight Retreat, friendly, enjoys conversation and ale, an introverted academic

Vaxilla, Drow Spy, dramatic, enjoys her work, loves the hunt, and the kill

Waquonis, Warlock of Iuz, determined, cruel, short of temper, ambitious

Hodar – Academy of Sorcery – cocky, if Han Solo was a magic items dealer, thinks Dyvers is just as good as Greyhawk

Secondary NPCs

Herechel

Nat Fowler –City Watch Captain , All business, a bit distrustful,

Sam Fagyn, Inkeeper of the Salty Wizard, Laid back, loves the bar business

Gorsend

Brylla Wilkes – City Watch Captain, Friendly, but won't take any shit.  Knows rules suck, but knows they have to be enforced.

Sykes, Stable-master – shifty, dirty, easily bought, no morals, betrayer for coin

Fenwick Hollisten, Innkeeper of The Gilded Goblet, obsequious, used to kissing rich people butt, at home among the wealthy, resentful of people with less means, even though he's not rich himself.

Free Borough

Hubern - City Watch Captain of Free Borough, loves his city, appreciates tourists, but knows the weapons rule is final, tries to placate unhappy people while enforcing it

Rafendyl, Half Elf Music Star Bard, - Loves to perform, happiest when making music, will play just for the love of it, anywhere.

Eriel Willan, Light Show Wizard of Street Fest – 25, gorgeous free spirit, as enthusiastic about her art as Rafendyl is about his, hard partying artist

Quickfingers, Juggler of Street Fest – Always “on,” runs entertaining banter throughout performance,  streetwise, been in the game for years

Meladra - Rhenee Fortune Teller of Street Fest, plays up the mysterious exotic lady schtick, will only confide in fellow Rheneee

Salmaz of Ekbir - Food Cart Vendor of Street Fest, Ekbiri immigrant, hard working, thick accent, is overjoyed that Free Borough loves his food and has little prejudice

“The Druid of Dank” - Cannabis Dealer of Street Fest – cartoonish 90's movie pot-head, sells the best weed, has dreadlocks, follows Rafendyl like a Phish-head, will talk your ear off about his best shows.

Hud Glidden – Head Brewer of Glidden's Brewery, chubby, bearded, craft brewer, loves beer, excited about it, friendly and charismatic

Robyn Heward, Chef/Barkeep of Inn –owner of the Spicy Pig, young, innovative chef, knows cooking is a man's world, but determined to make her mark, just got an Able Carter star (Greyhawk's Michelin star equivalent, given out by the carriage line)

Pantarn

Byrus Rendell, Banker of Pantarn – Super enthusiastic number cruncher, knows paper money is the future, can't wait to tell you about it like a Bitcoin enthusiast

Adria Woodhammer, Garrison Leader of Pantarn – classic paladin.  Incorruptible city guard, lives for the job

Lord Myridan Greenfield, Mayor of Pantarn – insufferable back-slapper, really thinks Pantarn is on its way to be the next Greyhawk, full of himself for hosting the Wizard's Bazaar this year, already kissing wizard ass to get it next year.

Schuter Garalend – Herbalist, From Tenh, Makes Orcbane, Flan herbalist, loves his work, contemplative, amazed by plants, wants other people to be as amazed as he is

Sister Hylla - Librarian of Boccob – chubby, avid reader, 50s.  At home doing a puzzle with a cup of tea.  Friendly, but gets serious on a dime when a problem must be solved.

Durbin Pottle, Taxman - Gleeful, knows this is his shot at collecting taxes on magic items that pour in for the Bazaar, not gonna waste it. Loves the game of outwitting tax cheats.

Furyondy's Wizards

Sharapel Endereth

The Chamber of Four – Karzalin (Fire)  Ryshanden (air) , Piscentan – female (water) , Dramaynen (earth) – These are the King of Furyondy's elite military wizards.  They do not exchange pleasantries as they are here to represent the growing strength of the crown. They are friendly but formal and short of speech.

Eriel Willan, (see above)

Janziper – Cruel and full of anger. Was tortured by Iuz's hobgoblins and lives for revenge.  Is impatient with the bazaar and is mainly here to buy orcbane from Garalend.

Cupara, Apprentice to Schuyzer, goes nowhere without a tame sabretooth tiger.  Pleasant but private, reveals little.  But fierce in his defense of Furyondy should anything happen

Countess Ravelle – wealthy, politically powerful fun-loving dabbler.  Not an experienced wizard, but a total fangirl of magic.  Loves to hobnob with wizards, but here as a hobbyist.

Tobian Rushkane – important red-headed Wizard of Furyondy.  Here to scope out the state of local magic and see how well Furyondy is progressing as a magic power

Sir Fyrian Finn - Knight of the Hart, Eldritch Knight.  Finn is a spell-casting fighter, a young handsome veteran of the Northern Crusade, here to accumulate power to fight Iuz.

Greyhawk's Wizards

Gelven Binder - Greyhawk Wizard's Guild Library – Javal Severnain's Procurer, Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park type, looking for rare books to take home, intrigued by Arcana

Senthya Quill - Greyhawk University – professor of potions and scrolls, excited to be at her first Wizard's Bazaar after years in the classroom

From Elsewhere

Chan Tao Sen, guest of Countess Ravelle, Far wanderer sorcerer from distant Shao-feng.  Exotic presence, who Ravelle is parading around like a pet, curious about the Flanaess. Charismatic and earnest, his Common improving every day.

Elenere Forester – from Veluna, serious and eager young wizard who is here to co-ordinate magical defenses with Furyondy, and bolster the alliance

Eldrath, Elf Warlock of the Archfey from Highfolk, here for Elven artifacts to return to their proper place among his people, but once the work day is done, its party time.

Brinus, Gnome wizard from Verbobonc, here to sell things from the Temple of Elemental Evil, a bit of a a hard-sell, and his merchandise looks dubious.

Shariel, Redhead young Elf Wizard, new apprentice of Tenser, here to try and buy evil artifacts so her master may destroy them or keep them from harmful use.

Ordann, Keoland, Silent Ones Sorcerer, quiet, serious, here to see if anything from the Suel Empire is up for sale and buy it for his order.

Gredard, Shield Lands refugee Wizard, here to look for work.  Poor, but still powerful, looking for basic reagents and a job, his tower was destroyed when Iuz invaded.

Restan Bandrick - Wild Coast refugee – A wandering Wizard, out on the road, looking to win tournaments.

At the Bonefort

Gorka – Somewhat dim Soldier of Iuz, he guards the gates from intruders

Shenezek – Female Cult Leader, Devoted of Iuz, maniacally enthusiastic about Iuz

Behenek – Frustrated Cleric of Iuz, looking for chance to prove himself and move up

Melfin – Elderly rustic traveling Old Faith preacher, who ministers to the Gnarley Forest

Vaygel – Deadly competent Skull Sword of Iuz, shaved head and skull face paint, fights for money and power, grateful that Iuz gives it to him

Pog – Gnome slave trying to make the best of it.

Breena – Gnome slave, hates her captors, defiant to the end

Grimble - Gnome slave, once the caravan leader, now trying to keep his people safe

Read to Players

“It is Starday, the 9th of Harvester, in the year 597.  The nights are getting shorter but there are still three weeks of summer left.  The boats are being hauled in for the day in Cardyn's Cove.  The Wizard Segrius has given the players his Wizard's Writ and told them the location of The Wizard's Bazaar, which will begin on the last day of Summer, the 28th of Harvester, in a field several miles outside of Pantarn, a town 300 miles further into the interior of Furyondy.  

Your group carries one Null's Impenetrable Box, created by a disciple of Iuz to hide an unknown object.  It can only be opened by the spell Anti-Magic Shell.  At The Bazaar, you hope to find a wizard who will cast it for you, or perhaps a scroll containing the spell so you can cast it yourselves. Once you know what it is, perhaps someone there will want to buy it?”

DM's NOTE: The box holds a locket of the Great Kingdom, containing the life force of Waquonis, a powerful Warlock in service of Iuz. Waquonis is prevented by the magical barriers of the box from using the power of the locket, but the minute the Anti-magic Shell goes up, he intends to possess the nearest person with magic jar and escape.

Journey to the Bazaar

There are three cities between Cardyn's Cove and Pantarn – Herechel, Gorsend, and Free Borough.   There is a road that connects all three.  Along the road, the PCs will get one encounter per day in keeping with the surroundings.  You can make this up or roll on the appropriate table.  There are numerous encounters in the module so it's not necessary to add fights, but some fitting local color will help bring the journey to life. The first stop is the walled river town of...

Herechel

Read to Players

“As you approach the walls of Herechel, you notice numerous galleys of the Furyondy Royal Navy.  Magnificent vessels with crews of hundreds. High above the docks on the city walls you can see one of the Royal Navy's Wizards, conducting a drill with a squad of archers.  They are firing into a dummy vessel that floats on the water.  The Wizard lights up the target for them, simultaneously shielding them from harm. He barks commands as they fill the boat with magically guided arrows.  The scene passes out of view as you approach the looming stone walls of the town.  Ahead of you the wide cobblestone street passes through the city gate.  Four infantry-men of the Army of Furyondy stand in front of a massive iron portcullis. One of them approaches.”

City Walls Checkpoint

The PCs meet a garrison of Furyondy's military.  Nat Fowler asks the PCs their business in Herechel.  If he is satisfied, he directs them to the Salty Wizard Inn, just inside the town gates.

The Salty Wizard Inn

An accordion, tin whistle, and fiddle combo plays sea shanties.  The innkeeper, Sam Fagyn, serves lobster pies with chips.   Most of the customers are sailors and river-boat men.

At a table near the PCs is a man out of place.  He appears to be from the Bright Desert.  His name is Onar.  He is Flan.  He says he is a spice trader.  He drinks Wallech Gin from Urnst with a lemon. He sits with three men in the distinctive clothing of the Bright Desert Nomads.  They do not speak.  

Onar will ask the PCs if they are from Greyhawk.  He asks if they are going to the Wizard's Bazaar.  He asks if they want to sell him anything magical.  He is really there to find the Greyhawk contingent traveling to the Bazaar.  He is going to murder one of them for his master Rary right after the PC's leave.  

Many miles of  grassland later, the PC's see a sign informing them that they have crossed into the Viceroyality of the March, under Viceroy Luther Derwent.  They are nearing...

Gorsend

After their journey, read the following.

“The grasslands of Furyondy soon give way to small farms.  You pass more and more  travelers each hour and then a sign comes into view. Gorsend – 2 Miles.

Soon the town is visible.  You are waved through by two bored looking guards who are wearing much nicer armor than any city watch you've seen.  As your cart moves further down the well-paved road, you notice that the buildings are all well-kept, and the people you see going about their business are dressed in clean and fashionable clothes.

There are guards all about.  After several blocks, the small homes and buildings give way to a row of magnificent mansions.  A sign says “High Street” but it might as well say “Money Street.”   Each mansion on this broad brick boulevard is more ostentatious than the last.  Rows of great big, hundred year old trees line both sides of the street, and bronze street lamps keep it well lit even as the sun sets.

The entrance to High Street is blocked off by two guards.  There is a side street called “Horseman's Alley,” jutting off to the south.”

Brylla Wilkes, a town constable, approaches.  She speaks. “No horses in the town center.  You've got to pay the stable fee.” Wilkes hands the PCs off to Sykes, the Stable-master  He's a cross old fart who leads them to the Stables, a massive wooden complex down Horseman's alley.  Facing each other on opposite sides of the alley are the Grand Stables for the wealthy, and the Common Stables for everyone else.  Only the Common Stables are available tonight.  This is a series of 60 foot barns with room for wagons and animals, stocked with hay and water.  Stable Fees as per Player's Handbook.

Sykes directs them to the barn they have been assigned...

Common Stables

… where they  are ambushed by a Cultist of Iuz named Rado, who Lovecraft remembers from Cardyn's Cove.  Rado fled the village towards the Drow caverns, led by a vision from Iuz.  There he told the Drow spy Vaxilla about Lovecraft, who is still very much wanted by his former allies.  They are now going to kill him and his friends, and Rado will take the impenetrable box back to Iuz.  They have a Giant Spider with them in the Stable.  They have been waiting for the PCs for an hour, having paid off Sykes.  They have tracked them since Herechel, and have been tipped off several times by people who have seen the PCs.

Encounter One

Vaxilla, Drow Spy

AC 12 HP 27 DEX + 2, CHA + 3, Can Dash, Disengage or Hide with Bonus Action.

2 AT + 4,  5 damage, Sword/Hand Crossbow + 7 Dmg 5 feet from ally or w/ Adv.

XP 100

Rado

AC 11, HP 32  AT + 4  DMG 5 melee, +2 AT 5 Crossbow, Advantage in 5 feet of Ally

XP 100

3 Drow

AC 15 HP 13 + 2 DEX  Stealth + 4 Adv vs. Charm, Can't be Slept

darkness, faerie fire at will

+4 AT, 5 damage Shortsword/Crossbow.  Crossbow DC 13 Con save or poisoned, fail by 5 and pass out.

XP 50 each

1 Giant Spider

Ac 14 HP 26 Climb 30 ft.  Stealth + 7

5 AT DMG 7 DC 11 Save or Poison damage 9, paralyzed for 1 hour if HP 0

Web + 5 to hit, target restrained, needs DC 12 strength test to get free

Web Ac 10, Hp 5

XP 200, Total Encounter XP 550

If the PCs are reduced to zero, Rado will grab the box before turning to deal with the players.  Before Rado can kill them, the City Watch arrives.  Rado flees with the box but leaves the pyramid behind.  The PCs will be able to track him.  Lovecraft will be taken by the Drow for execution in the Underdark.  He will have another chance to escape.

When the PC's have dealt with Rado, they will find total coinage worth 35 silver pieces.  

They will also find a pyramid shaped black object, Null's Pointing Pyramid, of the same material as the Impenetrable Box. The tip of the pyramid swivels away from the base, pointing always in the direction of the box.  It is the magical means by which the legions of Iuz track their creation.  

The owner of the stables is mortified and allows the PCs to have the stable for the night  free of charge.  He also gives them vouchers for a night on the house at the finest Inn in town.  Sykes is long gone.

The Gilded Goblet

The Gilded goblet is a fine Inn on High Street with excellent food.  The Inn Keeper is Fenwick Hollisten, who directs the PCs to the best available table and begins to serve their tasting menu over a bottle of fine wine from Verbobonc.  At the table next to them is a group of traveling wizards, also on the road to the Wizard's Bazaar, mostly from the Free City of Greyhawk.

Mordenkainen's apprentice, a young brunette named Rautheene, is accompanied by a professor from Greyhawk Magical University (Professor Senthya Quill,) Wizard's Guild Representative Gelven Binder, Society of Magi Initiate Vyran Flent, and their companion the scroll dealer Hodar of Dyvers.  

They are loudly discussing the Wizard's Bazaar.  They call the PCs over to their table.  

Note: Vyran Flent is secretly Onar is disguise.  Onar murdered the real Vyran right after the PCs left Herechel, and has used magical means to impersonate and replace him.   If the PC's are resourceful, they can pick up the following clues.

He seems unusually jovial lately according to his friends.  

He drinks the same drink as Onar – Wallech Gin from Urnst with a lemon

He knows about the Bright Desert

He won't answer anything specific about the Society of Magi

The traveling wizards impart the following during their conversation:

Binder: Greyhawk's support for Furyondy is the only thing keeping them from being Old Wicked's vacation home.  

Quill:  Furyondy is nothing compared to the wizards of Greyhawk.  Will be interesting to see the show they try and put on, will be cute to see them try.

Flent :  Where is Segrius?  Why are you going in his place?

Rautheene: What do you have to sell?  

Hodar: What are you  looking to buy? Are you manning a booth?  Are any of you entering the Tournament of Duels?

They will also ask the PCs to travel along with them.  If the PCs say no, they keep comically running into the Greyhawk delegation's wagon on the road, and the Greyhawk wizards make jokes about this.

If they say yes, the PCs will catch Rautheene watching them.  She has heard stories of a drow, a half orc paladin, a Rhenee and a Flan killing demons.  If they show her the box, she warns them they carry something very powerful and very evil.  

Eventually, the PCs will make it to....

Free Borough

The next stop before Pantarn is Free Borough, a city of 3000.  There is a local festival going on this week, on a holy day of Zilchus.  It's The Feast of the Heavy Purse, where prosperous merchants are meant to spend money to show appreciation for the god of commerce.  Big tips are customary, and the cheap are shamed.  There are 2000 extra people in the city. The whole region comes out for the festival.  There is an extra hum on the streets even in the early evening hours as the PCs pull in to town.  

They are met by the City Watch, 4 guards led by Hubern. He orders the PCs to abide by city law and stash their weapons and any armor heavier than leather in their wagon.  He recommends staying at the Spicy Pig, an Inn known for the food of award winning chef Robyn Heward.  

The food is pork and rice in a spicy stew with sausage and corn mixed in. The place is jumping, and Robyn says the players can't miss the street festival. Rafendyl is playing!  And there's a chance he'll play a late night set in the pub after the festival is done.

In the Free Borough town square is a large street festival.  Hundreds of people buy food and drink from stalls and watch a parade of entertainers.  The clerics of Zilchus are in full robes giving out coins.  Highlights include:

Rafendyl, a world famous Half Elf Music Star Bard plays an outdoor “Globe Theater” type space, with a great big band, amplified and lit up by bardic cantrips to be the equivalent of a modern rock concert, with lights by Light Show Wizard, Eriel Willan.

A Juggler, Bellyn Quickfingers, works a large crowd in the street.

Rhenee Fortune Teller Meladra reads palms and does Deck of Fate readings.

Salmaz of Ekbir sells Baklunish kabobs and shawarma from his food truck.

“The Druid of Dank” sells weed and pipes and brags like a Phish fan about all the great Rafendyl shows he's seen.  “Dude, Verbobonc County Fairgrounds 589 was the bomb!  20 minute “Old Wicked's Balls,” with a sick mandolin solo.”

Hud Glidden of Glidden's Brewery sells Glidden's Brown and Glidden's Wheat Ale.

The Greyhawk contingent either has traveled with the PCs or they run into them again at the street fest, where there is an unfortunate assassination attempt on Gelven Binder from the Wizard's Guild of Greyhawk.  When they find Binder, he and Flent have split off from the group to get beers from Glidden's tent.  

The assassins actually do the bidding of “Vyran Flent,” who is secretly Onar.  Onar joins in the attempt to fight off the bandits to throw off suspicion.  The PC's are welcome to foil the attempt and save Binder but the assassins will try their best to kill him before fleeing into the crowd, beginning a Chase, as per DM's Guide rules.

Encounter 2

2 Bright Desert Nomads

AC 13 HP 16 2 AT + 4, DMG 5 Shortsword, At + 4 DMG 6 Longbow Stealth + 6

XP 100 Each

Marwan, Wizard of The Bright Desert

AC 12 22 HP Dex + 2

Spell DC 13, +5 to hit Spell Attacks, Light, Shocking Grasp at Will (1d8 dmg)

4 Level One Spells Magic Missile 4d4+4 DMG, Charm Person 

3 Level 2 Spells: Hold Person, Misty Step

XP 200

Total XP 400

Gelven Binder (Target)

AC 10 HP 15

Spell DC 12, +4 to hit w/ Spell Attacks,

Cantrips : Light, Fire Bolt, (1d10 dmg), Shocking Grasp (1d8)

3 Level One Spells (Magic Missile 2d4+2) DMG Charm Person)

If the PCs save Binder, he stays in town to recover from his wounds. He's not going to the Bazaar this year.  He is spooked and wants to take it easy.  He can be convinced to persevere by the players on a DC 20 Persuasion check.  As they leave, they see a sign informing them that they are entering the Barony of the Reach, under Baron Jemian.  Eventually, they will travel the final stretch of the road to...

Pantarn

Read to Players,

“The road slopes down into a shallow valley as the town of Pantarn spreads out before you.  The river Att flows wide and strong through the city center, spanned by a magnificent stone bridge with stonework in the shape of Griffins up and down the railing.  There is a bronze statue of a knight on a paved city park on the other side of the bridge, with a ring of well-kept shops around the plaza.  A large cobblestone road leads out of the plaza away from the bridge.  The road winds up a steep hill where two large stone buildings stand across from each other on the hilltop clearing.  People go about their business.  Carts and wagons travel back and forth over the bridge.  The town is abuzz with the day's business.  A small group of Furyondy infantry approach, led by a muscular blonde woman with a longsword at her belt.”

There is a garrison of Furyondy's military run by female paladin Adria Woodhammer.  Woodhammer is accompanied by the Tax Collector, Durbin Pottle, who assesses the players for their Magical Item tax and Freesword tax (10gp per item, 1gp per weapon.) He is hitting everyone who enters as the Wizard's Bazaar is a big haul for the taxman.  If the PCs refuse to pay they are not allowed into the city. Hiding anything from Pottle (18 Wis, + 6 Perception) will be tough.

This city of 2200 has an awesome stone bridge with statues of Griffins on either entrance. The statue of a knight turns out to be poor missing Prince Thrommel of Furyondy.  

Around the plaza are the following businesses:

A brand new branch of the Able Carter coaching company, the first in Furyondy, with routes to Dyvers, Greyhawk, Hardby, Narwell, and Safeton.  

Scrivener's Stationary, a front house that serves as the headquarters of the Twilight Hunters thieves guild.

There is the shop of the famous herbalist Schuter Garalend, Garalend's Garden.  He is a Flan, from the Duchy of Tenh.  He makes orcbane, an herb that is poisonous to orcs, doing an additional 1d4 to any humanoid opponent for one fight.  

There is the famous Mercantile Bank of Pantarn, the first to issue paper money.  They will convert any gold the PCs don't want to carry.

The best Inn is the Great Griffin.  

The street leading out of the plaza is the lovely, chapel-filled Church St, which winds up  Serenity Hill to the grand monasteries of Rao and Boccob.  The Library of Boccob is kept by Brother Ewan, the Abbott of the Monastery  The Chief Librarian is Sister Hyllla.  

There are also Churches of St. Cuthbert (small) , Zilchus (big!) Trithereon, and Heironeous. Around the plaza are the homes of Pantarn's citizens.

Boccob Monastery – The staff of the monastery is just the Abbott, The Librarian, 3 Acolytes, and a bunch of non-powered Novices. Brother Ewan will be very interested in the box.  If the PCs tell him what it is, he offers to keep it safe at the Monastery.  It would be vulnerable to attack, though the PCs could track it with the pyramid. The Abbott tells them the box was built by Null, Iuz's right hand wizard, and that only a powerful item would be kept in such a box, and if something is infused with the power of Iuz, it is probably also very dangerous.  

  When they check into their rooms at the Great Griffin, the PCs find invitations to a private dinner at the home of the Mayor.   There they meet Furyondy's wizards – Thistlemane, Ravelle, Endareth, Rushkane, Black, Wylde, Finn, and Janziper.  Thistlemane has a Toad with him at all times.  It appears to be his familiar  He is keen to get on the player's good side.  Janziper asks about Segrius.  All of the wizards want to know about Moonglade Spire. They want to know if Faedra is really still alive after 350 years in the Feywild.

Thistlemane is secretly an agent of Iuz.  He has heard the box containing Waquonis’ soul is missing, and it is his job to find it and save Waquonis.  He will do whatever he can to get in the PCs’ good graces, as he has heard that a Drow, a Half Orc, and two female spellcasters killed Father Zoreg.

They also want to know about Iuz.  They start telling Iuz war stories.   They will be riveted by the story of Cardyn's Cove.  Finn tells the PCs that Furyondy needs magic. He tells them about Orcbane.  He will pay good money for demon globes.  Alene Wylde discusses her love of Great Kingdom artifacts.  

Bazaar Grounds

In the morning, the wizard contingents gather a half mile outside of town in an immense meadow.  23 magic users and their personal entourages. There are wagons gathered at the camp grounds in a circle, per the instructions of Bazaar staff.  The staffers are all Apprentice Wizards from Furyondy's magical college, overseen in the Opening Ceremony by Piscentan of the Chamber of Four.  At one point, she claps her hands.  An arrangement of chairs magically appears.  They form a large open circle.  A presentation begins in the center of the circle.

First, there is a Boccobite Blessing from Brother Ewan. Then an impressive demonstration of elemental magic by the Chamber of Four Wizards  against 6 Thassalos  (Iuz's Bone Golems.) The way their distinct elemental magics weave in and out of the air as they defeat their enemies is both impressive and beautiful.

Karzalin then declares the Bazaar open.  “Three days dedicated to the sharing and furtherment of magic by the wizards of Furyondy and her allies!”  He reads a magic word off a scroll, and magical Tents appear in a circle around the clearing.  23 elaborate luxury tents with an open tent to sell magical wares and a closed tent for living quarters.   They form a second circle around the circle of chairs which appeared previously.   Each tent has wonders of the DM's discretion– an Owl Bear in a cage!  Dragon eggs!  Items of all kinds.  Buying and selling magic items can be handled through the rules in Xanathar's Guide and the DMG.

The Tournament

There is a Dueling Ring in the center of the meadow.  There is to be a Tournament of Wizard's Duels over the weekend of the Bazaar.  The Duel bracket list is kept by Ryshanden, who stays to oversee the Bazaar. There is a grand prize of an indestructible spell book, and an elaborate, ornate hand crafted quarterstaff + 1.  Any PC entering the tournament fights three duels in front of a crowd of wizards and festival staff.  Only spells and cantrips are permitted as Actions.  The Circle is 60 feet in circumference.  It is illegal to leave the borders of the Circle, though you may fly as high as you wish inside it. The first contestant to zero HP is immediately healed by festival staff, and Wizards are told that your opponent's unconsciousness is the goal and murder is punishable by imprisonment. The winner advances to the next round.

Here are the opponents any player entering the tournament will face, in order:

Hodar

AC 10 HP 9 Spells - Save DC 12, +4 to hit  Cantrips - fire bolt, mending, prestidigitation 1st level (2 slots) burning hands, disguise self, shield         Dagger + 2 to hit DMG 3

50 XP

Chao Tan Fen

AC 16 HP 14 Spell DC +4 Sling Dagger + 5 to Hit/5 DMG

Cantrips (at will): acid splash*, blade ward, true strike, prestidigitation 1st level (3 slots): burning hands, ray of sickness, shield, sleep

100 XP

Shariel

AC 12 22 HP Dex + 2

Spell DC 13, +5 to hit Spell Attacks, Light, Shocking Grasp at Will (1d8 dmg)

4 Level One Spells (Magic Missile 4d4+4) DMG Charm Person)

3 Level 2 Spells (Hold Person, Misty Step)

XP 200

If two players enter the tournament, the second PC's opponents in order will be Brinus, Cupara, and Restan, whose stats are the same as the above three contestants.  If the players each win their first two matches, they fight each other on the fourth round, and then the winner takes on the DM's choice of Shariel or Restan.

The PC's will have time to sell magic items to whoever the DM wishes and buy whatever items the DM allows.  Use the Rules for Buying Magic Items in Xanathar's Guide but eliminate the 100gp fee and count the weeks spent traveling to the Bazaar for the bonus.  

Of note:

Alene Wylde will pay good money for any items the PCs have left over from Moonglade Spire.  She is also selling various Great Kingdom antiquities (common minor magic items from the Xanathar's Guide list)

Restan has a scroll of Anti-Magic Shell.  He wants a reagent called Dragonroot, a fiery colored plant.  He sends the PCs to a Grassy Meadow a mile away where an Ogre and 2 Goblins are eating it to get high.  He gives them three baskets to fill up, which will take three hours.

Countess Ravelle also has a scroll of Anti-Magic Shell, but she is waiting on another offer and cannot disclose her buyer at this time.  (It is Quill, who will have bought it by the time the PCs get back from collecting Dragonroot.)

The Grassy Meadow

The players come to an area where tall grasses grow 4 feet off the ground, obscuring everyone but one Ogre, Grossk.  The Dragonroot grows at the base of the grasses.  Grossk is dancing around, high as a kite, giggling away.  One goblin is jumping through the grass, two others remain unseen. They are lying on their backs but will attack if a fight begins.  The Ogre will attack the minute the PCs start picking Dragonroot.

Encounter 3

OGRE                                                                                                                      Armor Class 11 Hit Points 59 Speed 40 ft. ft.

19 STR (+4) 16 CON (+3) Prof +2 + 6 to hit/13 DMG Club, +6 to Hit 11 Damage Javelin

XP 450

3 GOBLINS

AC 15 HP 7 Stealth + 6 Can Hide or Disengage as Bonus Action

Scimitar/Short Bow + 4/5 DMG

50 XP each

The Goblins will hide in the grass and shoot at the players, hiding after every attack.  Once spotted, they will disengage and fire their arrows after every attack.

Opening the Box

Upon returning with the Dragonroot, Restan gives the PCs the scroll.  If they take a look inside, they see that it is a locket with the symbol of the Great Kingdom on it.  Alene can identify the locket as a locket of the Great Kingdom.  She tells them exactly what it does.

If the PCs have Alene with them when they open the box, she will tell them not to remove the locket from the box.  They need to destroy it while it is still in the shell.  If they remove it anyway, Waquonis possesses Alene, and she runs towards Thistlemane's tent.

If the players begin to destroy the locket, Thistlemane will attack to prevent them from doing this, having tracked the box with a second pointing pyramid in his possession. He casts dispel magic, revealing his pet frog to be a Giant Frog. Thistlemane will try until death to move the locket out of the Anti-magic shell.  The locket will possess the nearest PC, who will then run out of the tent, with the locket, to find a better body.   Waquonis intends to escape through the teleportation circle in Thistlemane's tent and Thistlemane intends to guard the way until he can.  Waquonis has no intention of killing the PC he possesses  He does, however, murder several bystanders on his way to Thistlemane's tent.

When the combat is over, they will find Quill has been murdered and Rautheene is  missing.  Asking around will reveal that “Vyran” was the last one to see them.  

If the players asked Alene what was in the box after they spent the scroll, they have to get a second anti-magic shell scroll to destroy the locket.  They will find that Ravelle has just sold it to Quill.  They look for her and find her murdered, with Rautheene missing.  They learn that “Vyran” was the last one to see Quill alive.

Vyran's Tent

If they search Vyran's tent, they find him about to kill Rautheene.  If they have not figured out that he is Onar yet, he will do a monologue and explain how easy it was to fool them. He has a servant who is a fellow warrior of the Bright Desert.  They attack.

Encounter 4

1 Bright Desert Scout. Male Flan in Desert Clothing

HP 13 AC 15 Dex + 2 Perception + 5, Con + 1

2 AT + 4/ 5 DMG Shortsword, + 4/ 6 DMG longbow

100 XP

Onar

Armor Class 12 (15 With Mage Armor) Hit Points 38 (7d8 + 7)  Saving Throws INT +5, WIS +2  Spell save DC 13, +5 to hit with spell attacks

Cantrips (at will): dancing lights, mage hand, minor illusion, poison spray   1st level (4 slots): color spray,* disguise self,* mage armor, magic missile   2nd level (3 slots): invisibility,* mirror image,* phantasmal force*                   3rd level (3 slots): major image,* phantom steed* 4th level (1 slot): phantasmal killer*                                                                                                  Displacement – bonus action after spell projects illusion making all attacks have disadvantage, works until taking damage, recharges after spell casts

Quarterstaff. +1 to hit, Hit: 2 (1d6 – 1) bludgeoning damage, or 3 (1d8 – 1) bludgeoning damage if used with two hands.                                                    700 XP

Thistlemane's Tent

Whether the PCs fight Onar first, then deal with the locket, or whether they destroy the locket first, Thistlemane will attack when they attempt to destroy it.  He has been spying on them the whole time, and it is his mission to ensure that Waquonis makes it to safety.

Encounter 5

Thistlemane uses a dispel magic scroll to grow his Giant Frog pet to regular size at the top of his turn.

Thistlemane

Armor Class 12 (15 With Mage Armor) Hit Points 38 (

Saving Throws INT +5, WIS +2  Spell save DC 13, +5 to hit with spell attacks

Cantrips (at will): dancing lights, mage hand, chill touch, poison spray         1st level (4 slots): ray of sickness,* disguise self,* mage armor, magic missile                            

2nd level (3 slots): ray of enfeeblement,* web,* blindness/deafness*       3rd level (3 slots): vampiric touch,* animate dead* bestow curse                           4th level (1 slot):  stoneskin                                                                                  Withering Touch +5 to hit, 5 necrotic damage                                                    700 XP

Giant Frog 

AC 11 HP 18                                                                                                         Standing Leap.The frog's long jump is up to 20 feet and its high jump is up to 10 feet, with or without a running start.                                                          Bite +3 to hit,  Hit: 4 (1d6 + 1) target is grappled (escape DC 11). Until this grapple ends, the target is restrained, and the frog can't bite another target.                                                      

 50 XP

Locket of the Great Kingdom

The Locket holds one person's life force inside it, currently one Waquonis.  The locket enables Waquonis' consciousness to cast magic jar, animate dead, and feeblemind twice per day.  He will use the first magic jar to possess the PC and the second to switch bodies with one of the wizards he runs into along his path to freedom.

If the PCs can fight off Thistlemane and his frog, keep the locket under the shell, and then do 25 points of damage to it, they can destroy it, and kill Waquonis forever, earning 1100 XP as if they fought him.

Waquonis

AC 11 (14 With Mage Armor) HP 49 

Spellcasting - Charisma (spell save DC 14, +6 to hit with spell attacks)          Cantrips (at will): spare the dying, eldritch blast, friends, mage hand, true strike, poison spray, vicious mockery                                             1st–5th level (3 5th-level slots): chill touch, blindness/deafness, death ward, ray of sickness, silence, fear, hold monster, aura of life, contagion, false life, witch bolt

Defy Death - on a successful death saving throw or when using spare the dying, add 1d8 plus Constitution bonus hp.  Recharges after long rest

Dagger.+3 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 20/60 ft. 4 (1d4 + 2) piercing damage.

1,100 XP

Whoever he ultimately possesses, if Waquonis succeeds in escaping, he heads to Thistlemane's tent.  There the PCs will find a teleportation circle on a rug on the ground, a chest of stolen currency worth 125 gold, 250 silver, 500 copper, and a letter from Iuz's stranded forces for Waquonis to read.  It says,

“Waquonis,

We survived Axeport.  We fled to the Furyondy wilderness.  We lost contact with Father Zoreg's group, but you will know that by now.  If you are reading this, then Father Zoreg must have succeeded in getting you back in a body.  Welcome back!  There are twenty five of us in our group.  Our orcs abandoned us.  They would not go further into human territory.  We made our way south under cover of night to the Domain of Greyhawk.  We found an abandoned keep near the Gnarley Forest.  We call it the Bonefort.

We have taken slaves and made sacrifices.  We managed to move all of the wealth of Axeport to our new home. The war in the north will never be won as long as Greyhawk's money flows to Furyondy and her allies.  We will inflict great terror on Greyhawk until they abandon Furyondy to their fate.  Then we will crush them both.  Iuz will reward us for giving him his revenge on those who imprisoned him below Castle Greyhawk.

We are reaching out to new allies who want Greyhawk destroyed as much as we do.  Together we will squeeze the city until it breaks.  Our agent, Hayden Thistlemane, has a teleportation circle which will transport you directly to our Keep, which we have named the Bonefort. Come join us as soon as you are able.  With you leading our forces, the defeat of our enemies is certain.  All hail Immortal Iuz!

Always and Forever,

Behenek the Grim, Lord of the Bonefort”

The PC's will see muddy footprints leading to the circle.

The Bonefort

If the PCs enter the teleportation circle, they will be transported directly to the front gate of the Bonefort, in the western plains of the Domain of Greyhawk, west of the Selintan river, east of the Gnarley Forest.  The Bonefort was once a Keep of the Greyhawk Militia, during the time of Zagyg the Mad.  Old heraldry of Greyhawk, portraits of Zagyg, and Shrines to Boccob dot the various rooms of the keep, but they have been defiled by the current residents with symbols of Iuz.

Read to Players

“You materialize out of the circle in a clearing.  The air is different, the temperature is ten degrees colder.  You hear unfamiliar birds.  Behind you there is a forest in the distance.  In front of you a large ruined Keep rises from the sparse grass.  It appears to be several hundred years old.  Over the massive wooden doors is a stone relief crest of the City of Greyhawk. At the corners are the bases of what once were surely four towers but now hold up nothing. The top floors have crumbled away, and what once was the second floor is now just the ceiling of a one story ruin.  On the roof you see what appear to be three bird-like creatures the size of horses tied up to a post on the far corner of the keep.  Directly in front of you on the roof are two black-clad crossbowmen, their bows trained on the circle. In front of the wall on foot are four more guards with swords.  They wear blackened leather armor with bleached skulls on the shoulders.”

Their leader, Gorka, yells “Oi!  Who goes there!?”  If fighting starts, one on the roof runs down to the castle to warn the forces inside.

It is possible for the PC's to act like allies and gain admission to the Castle.  If they make a Persuasion check of 15, they can convince Gorka they are here to join up or were sent by Iuz's forces.  Once inside the keep, they will ultimately be brought to one of the Acolytes, who will cast detect good on them and then the jig will be up.  

6 Iuz Soldiers

AC 12 HP 11                                                                                                          Scimitar +3 to hit,  Hit: 1d6 + 1 DMG  Light Crossbow. +3 to hit 80/320 ft 

1d8 + 1 DMG

XP 150 total, 25 each

The gates are barred by a large Iron bar that is locked on the left side by a massive  padlock.  The key is in the bag of the lead soldier.

Entrance Hall

Here an ancient banner of Greyhawk has been painted over with a symbol of Iuz.  There is a wall-length painting of a man with wild gray hair and wizard robes wearing a symbol of Boccob.  The  painting is captioned “Zagyg, Lord Mayor of the Free City of Greyhawk.”  The picture has been splattered with blood and an Iuz symbol has been carved into the painting on Zagyg's forehead.

There is a rack of weapons that is missing 10 swords and 10 crossbows.  There are 8 left in the rack of each.  The room is empty.  There is a barrel of water and a barrel of jerky.

There is a dirty carpet on the ground, and new torches shoved into old sconces on the wall, lighting up the room.  There is a door on the left wall, a door on the right, and one in the center.

The Left Side Door leads to...

a Wide Hallway

90 feet long.

As the players begin to walk down the hall, 4 Iuz Soldiers enter from the far door and begin to fire at them. The knights will flee through the door they came in when they are down to 2 left.  They will join the Scout and Skull Sword behind the cover of the big dining room table, firing at the PCs.

4 Iuz Soldiers

AC 12 HP 11                                                                                                Scimitar +3 to hit,  Hit: 1d6 + 1 DMG  Light Crossbow. +3 to hit 80/320 ft 1d8 + 1 DMG

XP 100 total, 25 each

Room Two

The room at the opposite end leads to a barracks with sleeping quarters, a dining room and a kitchen.  An Iuz “Wraith” Scout is there, who will over turn the dining room table for cover and signal Vaygel the Skull Sword.  He will use his leadership ability to give the others + 4 on their rolls.  The two remaining soldiers and the “Wraith” will fire from behind cover as the Skull Sword buffs them.

Two gnome slaves, Breena and Pog work the kitchen.  They may be taken hostage during the battle, depending on how it's going.  If freed, they tell the PC's that their caravan to Grossettgrottel was attacked by the cultists and they've been serving them ever since.  A few have died, but they think six more are alive in the Priest's wing of the keep.  

Vaygel, Skull Sword of Iuz

AC 18 HP 52 Prof. + 2 

Saving Throws Con +4, Wis +2, Advantage vs. fear

2 AT Greatsword : +5 to hit, 2d6 + 3 DMG, +2 to hit, Crossbow 1d10 DMG       Leadership, 1 min, give command adding 1d4 to Attack and Save rolls of 1 follower until KO Parry. + 2 AC vs one melee attack that would hit, as reaction

700 XP

Iuz “Wraith” Scout

AC 13 HP 16  Perception +5, Survival +5, Nature +4, Stealth +6

2 AT 

Shortsword +4 to hit, reach 5 ft. 1d6 + 2 DMG

Longbow +4 to hit,  1d8 + 2 DMG                                                                        100 XP

To the side is the Skull Sword's quarters, with a statue of Iuz in his Cambion form, worth 25 gold if someone would buy it.   The Soldiers all have 10 sp each. 

The back door leads to the Interior Hallway.

The Center Door from the Entrance Hall leads to a massive...

Worship Chamber

There is a hand-painted symbol of Iuz covering the floor, surrounded by hundreds of candles.  Two giant, oil-filled braziers sit near the center of the room.  They can be tipped over and the oil will spill out in front of them in a cone that extends 20 feet.  Players must make a Dex check( Acrobatics is applicable, as is Athletics) or take 5 fire damage. DC 15. Anyone moving in the area once the oil is spilled will take 5 fire damage.   They will take 5 damage every round until they spend an action putting it out.  

When the players attack, Shenezek will cast hold person on one of them as soon as they are in range of the braziers and then the other cultists will tip them over, starting the fire, with the PC stuck in the pathway.  They will throw 3 demon globes containing Dretch demons at the PCs

Shenezek, Unholy Devoted of Iuz

Hit Points 33 Proficiency Bonus +2

Dark Devotion. Advantage on saving throws vs being charm or fright           Spellcasting. spell save DC 11, +3 to hit with spell attacks.                         Cantrips (at will): light, sacred flame, thaumaturgy                                    1st level (4 slots): command, inflict wounds, shield of faith                       2nd level (3 slots): hold person, spiritual weapon                                        Dagger. 2 AT +4 to hit, range 20/60 ft.,  1d4 + 2 piercing damage.

450 XP

2 Devoted of Iuz                                                                                                     AC 12, HP 9, 

+3 to Hit, D6 + 1 DMG (Short Bow/Scimitar), advantage on Charm,                    

 25 XP each  

3 Dretch Demons (from demon globe)                                                                AC 11, HP 18, 2 

AT + 2 To Hit, Bite : D6 DMG, Claw, 2D4 Damage                         

50 XP each

Behind a door to the left is Mefrin, a human cleric of Beory, painted head to toe in symbols of Iuz.  He was captured while traveling through the Gnarley ministering to his people.  He is soon to be a sacrifice to Old Wicked.

In the rear of the room is a door to the Interior Hallway

The Right Side Door out of the Entrance Hall leads to a 90 foot Hallway.

There are three doors on the right side of the Hallway, one leads to the..

Slave Quarters

Four Gnomes, led by Gimble, wash pans near the straw mats they sleep on.  A giant pile of things to wash is in the middle of the room.  They are guarded by one Soldier.

Iuz Soldier

AC 12 HP 11                                                                                                   Scimitar +3 to hit,  Hit: 1d6 + 1 DMG 

 Light Crossbow. +3 to hit 80/320 ft, 1d8 + 1 DMG

XP 25

The second door leads to a Storage Room

This room has all the things Iuz's forces stole from the people they captured.  There are various sets of clothing, a pile of treasure worth 56 sp, a chest of holy books of Beory, a bunch of gnome trade goods.  The gnomes' gnome-sized weapons.  There is also some things that were cleared out of the keep when they took it over.  

There is a book called Zagyg, Arch Mage of Greyhawk, which tells how he became Lord Mayor of Greyhawk, founded the Guild of Wizardry, built the City Arena and Castle Greyhawk and how he disappeared in 421 and was never seen again.  How some say he captured 9 demigods under his Castle, and how some say Boccob made him a God.

The third door leads to the Priest Quarters.  These are the higher ups in charge of the Bonefort.  They sleep on more comfortable bedrolls and they have two more gnome slaves waiting on them. Two play Dragonchess on a board worth 25 gp.  There is a statue of Iuz here.  Two argue about the duty roster.  Two wonder if they've sacrificed that old cleric yet.  When the PCs arrive they will attack.  

6 Acolytes of Iuz

HP 10 AC 9

Spell Save DC 12 + 4 to hit Spell Attacks

Cantrips : Toll the Dead, Sacred Flame (Purple), Resistance

1st level Spells (3 slots) Inflict Wounds, Command, Bane, Detect Evil and Good

Club (with Skull head) + 2 to hit, 2 DMG

50 XP each, 300 Total

One will run at the end of battle to warn Father Behenek.

A door out of the Priest Quarters leads to the...

Interior Hallway

The Interior Hallway runs the width of the Keep and separates the back third from the rest of the Bonefort. There are two doors.  The first leads to the private quarters of Father Behenek,  the Priest who led the forces of Iuz to the Bonefort.  

If Waquonis was destroyed in the locket at the Wizard's Bazaar, then Behenek is not here.  He is in the Keep Lord's Suite.   If Waquonis lives, Behenek is here.

His bed is here, as well as a writing desk.  He has a lamp and a chest of clothing, several bottles of strong booze and some opium.  He has a demon globe containing a Maw Demon that he will use upon deciding that a fight is inevitable.  He may try to enlist the players in helping him kill Waquonis if they decide to talk first and he sees which way the wind is blowing.

Father Behenek has a large Holy Symbol of Iuz, and a copy of The Book of The Old One, which explains how Iuz was born of Iggwilv the witch and the demon Graz'zt, how he was imprisoned by Zagyg, and freed by Robliar to be slain, but escaped, and how he won the Greyhawk Wars and conquered many nations.  How he will one day conquer Oerth.  How he invites you to join him in his glory.    

Father Behenek

Armor Class 13 (chain shirt) Hit Points 27 (5d8 + 5) Speed 25 ft.                     Bonus action: spend spell slot to deal an extra 10 (3d6) radiant damage on melee hit. If spell slot of 2nd level or higher, add  1d6/level

Spell save DC 13, +5 to hit with spell attacks                                                      Cantrips - Toll The Dead, Sacred Flame, Thaumaturgy                                     1st level (4 slots): Inflict Wounds, Command, Guiding Bolt                             2nd level (3 slots): Aid, Spiritual Weapon                                                         3rd level (2 slots): , Vampiric Touch, Bestow Curse                                         Skull-headed Mace: +2 to hit, 1d6  damage                                                      450 XP

Maw Demon

AC 13, Hit Points 33 Resistant: cold, fire, lightning, Immune: poison, charm, fear

Senses darkvision 60 ft.

Rampage. When it reduces a creature to 0 hp,  gets bonus action to move up to half its speed and make a bite attack.

Bite. +4 to hit, 2d8+2 piercing damage.                                                                                    

200 XP

The second door leads to The Keep Lord's Suite. This is where Zagyg's chosen commander lived in times past.  If Waquonis survived the events of the Wizard's Bazaar, then he is here. If not, then Behenek is here, as he is the lord of the Bonefort.

The suite has a small bedroom, a small study, and a large common area, with a meeting table and several chairs.  There is a door in the back to the Stairwell. At the meeting table are three representatives, Smiling Rem Renney, a ship captain of the Slave Lords out of Highport, Nurrsh, chief of the Crooked Claw Orcs in the Pomarj, and Sibasti, a Sorcerer representative of Rary of the Bright Desert.  They are making plans to destroy Greyhawk.  A map of the city is on the table. There are dots marked off where they plan to attack.  There is also a map of the Domain of Greyhawk, where various objects of power are believed to be hidden.   PCs that use stealth can overhear part of their conversation, as they plan acts of terror on Greyhawk.  If all her enemies work together, there is no way the city will stand.  

IF Waquonis is alive, he leads the meeting.  When the PCs arrive, his three guests turn on him.  

Nurrsh : You said you were strong!  Your whole keep falls to an elf, 2 women and a half blood?  Ha! You are not worthy of the Crooked Claw Orcs!

Smiling Rem : You run a loose ship, matey.  This is no good at all.  If you get yourself sorted, you know where to find me.

Sibasti : Kaedriss! It seems neither of us were content to remain good little desert girls. But you ran away, and now our people bow to me!  

They run through the door, out the back stairs to the roof.

Waquonis confronts the PC's.  What do they want?  Why must they resist the great Iuz?  They killed Father Zoreg.  And now they dare ruin his plans?  Furyondy makes him sick.  

“A nation of peasants, led by dullards and cowards.  Why defend them? They are sheep for the powerful to toy with as they will!  Are you no better than those simple fishermen, boring farmers, and fat merchants?  You worship feeble gods, Lolth, who uses you as her playthings, St. Cuthbert who prevents you from doing anything fun at all, and Boccob, a frightened old man who might as well be dead!  Now you will pay for you folly.”

If Waquonis is dead, Benehek runs the meeting, and the fight with him and the Maw demon happens here.  He says the same basic speech, but adds in

“If you had only killed Waquonis, I would thank you for getting him out of my way, but you have now ruined an alliance I had planned for months!  When I kill you, The Old One will know that I am ready to rule Greyhawk in his name!”

Waquonis

AC 11 (14 With Mage Armor) HP 49 

Spellcasting - Charisma (spell save DC 14, +6 to hit with spell attacks)          Cantrips (at will): spare the dying, eldritch blast, friends, mage hand, true strike, poison spray, vicious mockery                                             1st–5th level (3 5th-level slots): chill touch, blindness/deafness, death ward, ray of sickness, silence, fear, hold monster, aura of life, contagion, false life, witch bolt

Defy Death - on a successful death saving throw or when using spare the dying, add 1d8 plus Constitution bonus hp.  Recharges after long rest

Dagger.+3 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 20/60 ft. 4 (1d4 + 2) piercing damage.

1,100 XP

In Waquonis’ chamber is a longsword + 1 which he looted from Axeport.  It has the crest of the Shield Lands engraved in the pommel.

The stairs lead to the...

Rooftop

If Waquonis made it to the Bonefort and just fought the PCs, The last thing they see as they climb up to the roof of the Bonefort is the representatives getting on their flying mounts and leaving for the south, in three different directions.  

Rem mounts a Giant Seagull, Sibasti a Giant Vulture, and Nurrsh a Giant Bat.  They fly off, but Sibasti circles around once more to warn Kaedriss.  Then she flies off.

“You killed my teacher.  He rescued me from being just another nomad's wife.  And one day you will pay for that.  Come home if you have the courage!”

If Waquonis died in Furyondy and the PCs just killed Behenek and the Maw Demon, then Sibasti is waiting on the rooftop to avenge Onar.  She cannot let it go.  She attacks.  When the vulture is reduced to two HP, it will circle overhead.  If Sibasti hits zero, the Vulture swoops down to save her.  

“Onar came to my village, he saw that I was a sorcerer, but no Bright Desert Man would let a woman wield power, so he saved me from their narrow minded oppression and taught me the power of the Desert Winds! It is only appropriate that I use what he taught me to avenge him!”

Sibasti

Armor Class 12 (15 with mage armor) Hit Points 44

Speed 30 ft. Skills Deception +5, Persuasion +5 Senses passive Perception 10

Spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 13, +5 to hit with spell attacks).

Cantrips (at will): blade ward, gust,* light, prestidigitation 

1st level (4 slots): feather fall, jump, thunderwave, witch bolt

2nd level (3 slots): gust of wind, invisibility

3rd level (3 slots): fly, lightning bolt

Dagger. Melee or Ranged Weapon Attack: +4 to hit, reach 5 ft. or range 20/60 ft., one target. Hit: 3 (1d4 + 1) piercing damage.

700 XP

Giant Vulture

AC 10 HP 22, flight 60 feet

Advantage if Ally is within 5 feet and standing

2 AT Beak +4 to hit 7 DMG, Talons +4 to Hit, 9 Damage

200 XP

Whether the PC’s fight Sibasti on the rooftop or just watch her and her two fellow representatives of hostile powers fly away, they now stand on the roof alone.  They look out over the wall and see the Free City of Greyhawk loom in the distance.  The biggest, most important city in the world.  Their enemies want it destroyed.  They have new friends there who may open up entire new worlds of influence and power.  They have maps that may be the key to magic and wealth.  Will they go back to Furyondy or go through the door that lies open, just a few miles away, in the greatest city on Oerth?

New Magic Items

Vayne’s Demon Globe (minor, rare)

A Magical Glass Eight Inch Sphere.  If thrown at the ground it shatters and releases the demon imprisoned with in it in gaseous form.  The demon grows to full size and solidity and attacks the nearest character on the next round.  

Null's Impenetrable Box (major, rare)

This item is a black box about one cubic foot in volume.  It is made of an odd black lacquered wood into which odd runes in Abyssal are carved into every surface centimeter.  It gives off strong magic and evil if detect spells are used on it. It cannot be opened by any means except by the creator of the box. It is indestructible.  In this case, the locket of the Great Kingdom (from Greyhawk Adventures) is inside it.  The soul inside the locket can normally cast magic jar, feeblemind, and animate dead but because it is inside the magical box, it cannot affect anything outside the box's walls.  The only way to open the box without it's original creator is to cast anti-magic shell. This will also negate the properties of the locket so it would have to be removed from the box and the shell for the soul inside (currently Waquonis, a Warlock of Iuz) to use it's powers to free itself from the locket.

Null's Pointing Pyramid (minor, rare)

This six inch black pyramid is made out of an odd black lacquered wood and is covered in Abyssal runes on every centimeter of it's four sides. The top two inches separate from the base and point in the direction of one Null's Impenetrable Box that is attuned to it.  It will always point to the box until it is destroyed.  It gets warm when the box is close.