For an introduction to this collaborative Mythic Game Master Emulator adventure, see this post.
Player Characters: Nivek, Kelthas, and Hresstan.
Previous scene: Scene 7 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)
EPILOGUE (Posted by Eloy)
“ 'Tis a strange tale you've told me,” Gregos says. “Yet I believe every word.”
The pale light of dawn illumines the burnt ruins of what once was The Silken Veil. The remnants of a bucket brigade continue to pour water onto the charred wood, as few wisps of steam and smoke still rise from the now extinguished inferno.
“I had my suspicions about Jaessra for some time now, but only recently discovered her involvement with sorcery.” Gregos continues, watching his men search through the rubble. “I thought her merely unfaithful, arranging clandestine trysts with some secret paramour. My spies discovered her association with certain... disreputable Quarmallian elements in the city.”
“And so it was that I took it upon myself to gather a small force of warriors to confront her, fearing she had readied some foul sorcery or some hired bravos to guard her,” looking at Hresstan, he adds. “One of my contacts even mentioned a Northerner who was interested in such an assignment, yet he never showed to the meeting.”
“In any case, imagine my surprise when I arrived at my estate to find her gone.” Gregos is abruptly cut-off as one of his men returns bearing a soot-covered object in his hands. He quickly hands it over to his employer, as he mumbles a brief report. The men have found no sign of the bodies of Ilsbert nor Jaessra, Gregos' wife. Gregos dismisses the man, and passes a handkerchief over the object, revealing the grotesque demon-mask worn by Ilsbert.
Fingering the hideous object, Gregos continues his tale: “I did not suspect Ilsbert was involved, however, in retrospect, his complicity seems obvious. He arrived a few days hence, and Jaessra pronounced him his nephew, from Ilthmart. Though now it seems perhaps he was her lover... or perhaps her teacher, or her apprentice... It matters not.”
“She sent me out of the house to show Ilsbert around. She must have been making preparations for the dark ritual here. No wonder Ilsbert was so insistent on continuing his tour of the city, and on visiting the Plaza of Dark Delights. He wanted to bring me here, away from the safety of my home and my guards, to perform their foul magics.”
“No matter,” he says with a sigh. “It is all over now.” Turning to the three battered swordsmen, he adds. “You have done me a great service here, tonight. I shall not forget it.”
***
A scarce few hours later finds the three friends on the corner of Whore and Cash streets. The Golden Lamprey is busy, as always, and a raucous din fills the common room, as customers eat and drink and converse loudly.
The three swordsmen sit in unusual silence, drinking from their tankards and pick sullenly at the scraps of food on their table, their minds on the dark events of the previous night.
Kelthas drains the last from his cup, and belches contentedly, his spirits much improved after having drained the fourth such draught of ale.
“Well,” Nivek says, setting his own cup down. “At least we've some money now. Enough for this fine meal, enough to buy you a new shield and saber, Kelthas, to replace what you've lost. If we're thrifty enough, there should be enough to pay the rent and maybe even afford guild dues.”
“It looks as though we won't starve this winter,” Nivek adds. “If we spend that money judiciously.”
“Indeed. I agree. Perhaps we should...” the words trail off as Kelthas catches sight of a pair of voluptous young whores.
After a short pause, Kelthas adds. “I'll be right back, Nivek. Order us a couple of more ales, will you?” He says, standing up and jiggling the coin pouch at his belt.
As the mercenary hurries off in the direction of the whores, Nivek sighs ruefully. “Or perhaps we will starve, after all.”
Hresstan Hammerhand laughs loudly and claps the smaller man on the shoulder. “Be at ease, friend Nivek. You're in the company of a man of the Cold Wastes. I know a thing or two about surviving a cold winter.”
“Besides,” he adds, with a twinkle in his eye. “The lady Lycinia forgot her money pouch, in her haste to vacate the premises.” With a wide grin, the Northerner pulls a fine velvet pouch from his belt, bulging with coin.
Their laughter rises, and is soon lost amidst the noise of the great city.
Finis
