Hello, Everyone!
I've forgotten, again, that today was a posting day. Summer break is a very disorienting time for me, I have no idea what day of the week it is anymore. You must forgive me!
Anyway, last time, Mary and her friends went to buy some fancy clothes in order to be able to have a fancy dinner in a fancy restaurant. Dynatos Perres, the ruler of Pamagos himself, invited them. How do you ignore such an invitation?
Well, our friends went to the 'Gastrognome', the fanciest of all fancy places, and shortly after they were seated, a commotion happened at the door. A familiar, but really unexpected figure, was trying to get in.
The interior of the ‘Gastrognome’ was buzzing with quiet indignation. The faces of the restaurant’s patrons were turned towards the entrance, where, at the moment, the grotesque figure of Kalien--the half-dragon, half-man servant of Nurvureem--was trying to make his way into the establishment. He was wearing a tailcoat and the hair on the human side of his head was slicked back in a mockery of a stylish high-society coiffure.
“I have the right to be here, same as everyone else,” he said calmly to the security that had stopped him. “I am awaited. Here’s my invitation.”
He handed them a piece of paper. They checked it carefully, shared a worried look and moved out of his way.
Mary’s heart leaped in her chest. Was Kalien looking for them? Was he going to tell them how disappointed Nurvureem was that they didn't visit her new lair, and that she was now going to come visit them instead?
Don’t look at him, she thought. Don’t LOOK!
With the corner of her eye, she followed his movement to a table at the very end of the hall, right next to the musicians who were now resuming their tune after the commotion had subsided. Kalien was greeted by a man who stood up and gestured to the seat next to him…
… with a hand that was too thin, and all dried up.
Mary inhaled with a hiss. She remembered that hand, holding a cencer down in the tunnels beneath Belfast. She remembered that man, saying "Give me the crystal, Agrax" and taking the Artefact for himself before disappearing into a teleportation circle.
That man… was working with Kalien?!
She turned to her friends and saw the same kind of recognition on their faces. Anabelle Perres, with confusion in her eyes, began asking a question but her husband took her hand and shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” Mary whispered a Message into his head. “Something is happening that we must take care of.”
“I can see that,” he replied in the same manner. “But you’re going to tell me about that when the evening is over.”
Mary nodded and heard him start an inconspicuous conversation with his wife to provide them with some cover.
It was Aurum that was going to try and find out what the two men were talking about. He took out his crystal lense and began concentrating to project his consciousness to their table.
His Clairvoyance spell was going to take a while and Mary spent that whole time trying not to be obvious about looking at Kalien and his mysterious companion. They didn’t seem to be able to start a conversation right away. First, a gnomish waiter was taking their order, then they were choosing from the menu, then the waiter was back with the wine list.
“I’m on to them,” Aurum said. “Kalien seems in a hurry, he sounds really annoyed talking to the waiter. The other guy is calm and almost indifferent. I can hear him munching. Oh, now that they’re alone, they’re starting the interesting part! Kalien is first to talk. Someone called Dio-? Diohastos?... is apparently dead. They’re looking for a buyer for… something. He says… Oh! He says that Nurvureem turned out to be quite useful. Killing her own kind obviously gave her pleasure.”
Mary’s chest tightened. Why did Nurvureem have to be everywhere? Under Belfast, in her nightmares, in Meraket’s outskirts, even in the safety of Pamagos… And now she was killing other dragons? How powerful was that monster?!
“The waiter served them the second course,” Aurum said. “Now that he’s gone, Mr. Shriveled Hand is talking. Someone died in battle. Mel-trond? No, Meltharond. He fought his ex. Nnno, that can’t be right. It’s ‘ix’, not ‘ex’. He fought the Titan of Ix. And won, but also apparently died? The White Queen--ooh, there’s a queen now!--she she’s going crazy because she can’t accept his death.”
Mary had taken out her notebook and was writing furiously. All of this could be useful later. She heard Aurum gasp and raised her head.
“Kalien is asking about the Artefact!” the bard said. “The other guy says it’s been delivered and something is about to start soon.”
“What is about to start?” Mary asked.
“Beats me,” Aurum said after listening for about a minute more. “They’re saying some cryptic shit now, like a prayer, and I can hear them get on with their dinner.”
His Clairvoyance ended and all his senses returned to the table. Mary made sure to have him repeat all the names and cryptic stuff he could remember, so that she could write them down.
The evening continued almost as if nothing weird was happening. Mary, Bruno and Aurum ate their fancy dinner, talked to Mr. Perres about their upcoming visit to Ekoba and answered his questions about other parts of their journeys. He seemed particularly interested in Granny Gretel who’d obviously made a big impression on him.
“We don’t really know much about her,” Mary mumbled. She didn’t like that that fact much either, and glanced at the ruby amulet that peeked under Aurum’s white shirt.
At one point of the evening her eyes met with Kalien’s. He nodded in recognition. She did, too. The mundanity of the gesture was equal parts creepy and funny. The next time she looked in his direction, he was gone. His companion was enjoying his wine alone, raising a glass to the light of the crystal chandelier and looking at the liquid inside.
Under the table, Mary conjured her spider familiar Peter and folded him from an empty page of her journal. She sent him scutling towards the man in hopes of finding out where he’d go after leaving the restaurant. The spider climbed up his leg and almost reached his thigh before getting noticed.
The man sighed, shook him off and stomped him with his velvet boot. He didn’t even look around to see who the spider had come from. Having people spy on him must have been a usual occurrence.
“It’s been payed for,” the waiter said when they asked for the bill.
Oh, no, Mary thought. Here we go again!
“Who payed it?” she said out loud.
“The lady did,” the gnome said, gesturing, not at her, but at Anabelle Perres.
The woman looked confused. Mr. Perres even more so.
“Do you even carry money with you, honey?” he said.
“No, I don’t,” she smiled helplessly. “This is so bizarre!”
You have no idea, Mary thought.
“So, do we have to send you home now?” Bruno asked Mr. Perres when they went out on the street.
“Oh, no, no need,” he smiled and pointed up. “Elaria’s been keeping an eye on us. She’ll take care of it.”
They raised their eyes. On the opposite roof, half-hidden in a shadow, a lone fiery-haired figure stood watch. She stepped into the light and reached out her arm. A small winged figure--her pseudodragon--flew out, and with two beats of its wings, grew much larger. Elaria waited for it to circle back and jumped off. The dragon grabbed her by the shoulders and they started flying high above the street as a special kind of guard for the ruler of Pamagos and his wife.
All right. Things are getting more and more interesting. What's going on with Kalien and the Dry Hand? Who killed whom and why? And who keeps paying our heroes' bills?!
See you next time when we'll continue with our evening in a less official manner. I think Mary will surprise us :)
Until then,
Take care and be well!
(Also, here's a link to the Chapter Guide, the Glossary and the Map for the series. You're welcome!)
An important disclaimer: These are my notes from a D&D game turned into a narrative. All the worldbuilding and NPC encounters belong to our DM, and all the actions of the other main characters (Aurum and Bruno) belong to my co-players. My contribution to the story is only everything Mary-related (actions, reactions, inner thoughts), as well as the writing itself.