Keeping My Word – Part 2

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| Reader Note: This has been
| sent to Brother Malkin, chronicler.
| At the Library of Bletherad.
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Good Master Chronicler of Light,

This missive should arrive a few hours after the first one I sent. I am now back aboard the Vequana. CrIsis has been told we are now only one hourglass turn away from docking in Trade Port, upon the Isle of the Cyclops. I can make out the silhouette on the distance. Something my father said is sticking in my head. About the need to prepare for the Jotan Necromancer having other Jotan, bodyguards! While I let the chill settle in my back muscles from that thought let us go over my trip to the Holy City of Sekti-Abtu and my Father.

3rd of Od, 343 year of the Dominion of Man, and 23rd Year of the Western Emperor Voelkian Itomas II.

One day you are going to have to tell me about the first monk you mentored. How this monk must have been surprised about some of the really scary things you folk protect the world from to this day. I spent to much time talking with the Keeper and you three to not realize you didn’t just hunt lost lore but dangerous lost lore you must keep away from the world to avoid another Necrom or Morcen getting out and wreaking untold havoc! Now this is not a playful jibe because I am aware how small my shadow is next to yours and your fellow monks. If only Master Aesyl could have joined your august fellowship. I know you read about me tossing my spellbook overboard and I am sure both you and the late Minotaur librarian would have throttled me for such an act. Alas, the book was saved but I am digressing which I am often to do. When the guard (a lone guard I might add, poor fellow) got close enough I opened the door and said, “Hello.”

The guard’s reply was (well to me at least) classic, *”I… It’s…. IT’S A… IT’S A MINOTAUR!!!!!”* While he was fumbling with his sword I sighed and dropped a Cloud of Slumber spell on the immediate area to prevent defending myself from fear set in by my people’s evil heritage. Would you believe he was to scared to fall asleep!!! Well his eyes had glazed over in fear I knew he wouldn’t listen to me even though I tried to tell him whom I was. Sigh I dropped a Carpet of Adhesion spell on just his surface area of his whole body. He fell over stuck to himself and the floor, while I bent over and now had his attention once more, “Please remember the Golden Minotaur does not slay those that serve the light.”

When I heard a company approaching I waved my hands and canceled my magic not wanting this to look like an attack. The captain recognized me and so did the majority of his company with statements of the “Golden One” and “CrIsis” being bandied about. When the captain asked about whom I wished to see I stated that I was here to see my father. He offered his company to escort me and I can imagine the pigeons flying everywhere that the “Golden Minotaur” was back in Sekti-Abtu. In my new armor I must have looked like an 11 foot tall Golden Golem more than anything else. Luckily no one could see how uneasy I was at the grandiose epitaphs being tossed around as the procession made its way to my father. I knocked and heard “ENTER” from inside. The company waited for me outside and they sent a runner when I mentioned I would make myself available to the Pontiff should he require my presence. I removed my visor and took a huge gulp as I came to face to face with how my father felt about me.

“Father” *?*

Like lightning had hit him he set his tools down among the glow of his forge. He turned and I don’t think he believed it was me. Before awkward small talk could be made I asked if he had a table I could borrow. He showed me to his dining area and his house and attached working forge was nice with carved furniture, art on the walls, and books! Custom copper cookware from the Master Dwarf that has been helping him with his smith craft. He cleared a leather folio with clients and he mentioned that he had made a blade for a Titan! It really looked as though life working for the Church of Light had made him truly happy. I gulped when I realized I had come to shatter that happiness, hopefully, only temporary. I steeled myself and laid the weapons out *”carefully”* upon the table pointing out how viciously Fryst had taken frosted bites out of me!

“Well Fryst has been corrupted even I can see that,” remarked my father looking upon them, though pausing a little longer on Anzuroq the Stone Mace.

I explained that they needed to go home and help the tribe out with whatever their troubles might be. Before I stopped myself from fear I rambled on about Zeelik, my involvement in getting him to go, and Luur’na’s reaction. My father stopped me and explained that his son obviously saw merit to my idea or he would not have put himself in harm’s way. His wife was unfortunately lost to crazed thoughts with grief and giving her space may be the only thing we can do for her.

I explained that I cannot ask for help because he signed an Agreement, which I promptly showed him my copy and whom signed it. Going on was the notion that if an item can be corrupted it can be cleansed and if the Serinan Tribe were to donate one of the weapons to the Church of Light it may help get the others cleansed so they don’t taint the tribe. He mentioned that the Pontiff would likely send Warrior-Priests to join him so he could make it there and back safely. Before I left with a hug and reassurance that he was proud of me my father promised to give me an update as to numbers and current status of the tribe.

He called me a *”hero”* to Minotaurs and non-hoomans everywhere, I am still stunned by that!

When I returned to the Captain and his company outside I was informed the Pontiff was dealing with a leader of some country and unavailable. I asked the captain if he might know some wizards that worked for the Church of Light and he did indeed. Masters Hasselthon and Fraevian were Elves that had wrinkles so I could not imagine more learned men of magic I could be brought to. I prostrated myself before them and declared whom I was and what I needed help with – a ritual Teleport because I lacked the mystical reserves to perform the spell on my own. They agreed in exchange for some pieces of magic that did not survive the Millennium of Purification. I knew then that the Book of Shadows was the deal clincher. I let them thumb through it and their eyes reminded me of Bast when she met me for the first time in person after I had died the first time. They agreed to let me study the spells later for no charge but after hearing Master Azariel’s name they said the “whippersnapper” would get a heavy discount, but not free.

I could not argue and we began the ritual and I have come full circle back to the Vequana in Brother Indaris’ room to cries of “land ho!” So I must change back to Osric and perform what I have seen of “Western Nobility” to we can stay alive and hopefully bargain getting the piece of Osiris back.

Till next time,

Xerx’ses Goldenhorn,
War Wizard of CrIsis,
aka: Captain Osric Orghallar of Rogtilda

>> Written by Xerx’ses Goldenhorn, upon the 3rd of Od, 70th Year of the Wolfen Empire, 2nd year of King Guy the First of the Timiro Kingdom, 343 year of the Dominion of Man, and 23rd Year of the Western Emperor Voelkian Itomas II. <<

Rod Rambler picture from Nonsonogaia.
Picture of book from Mission of Santa Clara, ca.1908.
Anzuroq the Stone Mace from Cremuss.
All other weapons are found on AQW-wiki.
Rostam picture found at El-Grimlock