"Alright Nimozaran, I got your letter. Now what do you want me for?" Curudir asked as he entered the Septarch's Tower, overlooking the town of Fallcrest. "Be patient young lad. I'll inform you just as soon as the others arrive." The elderly wizard told him. "Others? Whatever you need us for is sounding more perilous by the minute. It wouldn't involve Kobolds by any chance, would it?" Curudir replied.
It wasn't that Garron had an especially sensitive nose. But the stench wafting off the armored man was incredibly ripe, a combination of weeks of filth and a lot of wine.
His escort and compatriot, a theoretical Paladin by the name of Luther Anders, didn't really look the part. He was scruffy, dirty, and had spent the majority of the journey anywhere between tipsy and barely lucid.
They'd met up in Harkenwold, about two weeks ago. Garron had received a message from an old colleague, the wizard Nimozaran. While passing through, he had met up with Luther in the bar. Luther, appearing to be a confident and skilled mercenary, already properly outfitted, seemed like an ideal escort for a rather squishy wizard.
It hadn't been the best deal. Luther had a skin of wine at hand most all the time. The man had gone from being a little scruffy when they had left to being a complete wreck, eyes bleary and bloodshot from the wine and apparent lack of sleep, his movements seeming off, and not just from being drunk.
The Dwarf shook his head. Drunkards were nothing new to him, but this 'Paladin' didn't make much sense. Still, he had done this escort out of goodwill, so Garron didn't voice his complaints.
"Luther! We're almost to Septarch's tower."
Luther snapped upright and glanced up, almost looking for a moment like the Knight he was supposed to be.
"Ah! So we are. Excellent, we made good time."
That was more or less true. They'd been waylaid only once, by a handful of highwaymen who had more business picking their nose than holding up travelers. A globule of acid to the face of one and a little sword-waving on the part of Luther had been enough to dissuade them from their ambitions, and they had fled into the wilderness, hauling their horrifically maimed comrade.
Such was life for criminals.
The horse and pony rode up to the tower, and Luther quickly dismounted and tethered them to a peg.
He'd make a better manservant than a Paladin. Garron slid off his horse and approached the tower, focusing his mind away from his boozer companion and onto more important matters, this vague note he had recieved. He thumped the door into the tower with an irritated expression, wishing that the other wizard had not chosen to be so bloody vague. It was so...cliche.
"So, did that old wizard summon you here too?" Came a booming female voice from behind Luther and Garron. It was the voice of Akra, a Dragonborn Warlord from beyond the Vale. Little was known about her, aside from her ferocity in battle and her ability to lead others.
If there was one thing he was painfully aware of at that point in time, it was just how badly he needed a drink.
Hethra Hiazoki, a ranger, had been walking for what felt like hours, though he certainly was in no mood to recall with any accuracy. The sun was high up in the sky, and there wasn't so much as a scrap of shade to be found. He sighed inwardly. What had he done in his life to deserve this kind of punishment? He just didn't know...
He thought back to how the current situation had come to pass...
***
The bar had smelled like a stable after a long hot summer day, and then multiplied ten-fold. But that was the price you paid for not wanting to pay the price of expensive alcohol. Plus, Hethra knew just what kind of establishments to frequent when it came to gaining information. On this particular day, however, information had come looking for him.
"Excuse me, sir." a small voice from just behind him. Hethra's hand was on the hilt of his dagger, hidden underneath his heavy cloak, in a flash, though the stranger behind his would have no way of knowing...
"Please," the stranger continued, "I mean you no harm. You can remove your hand from the hilt of that dagger."
Hethra was stunned, but only momentarily. He had dealt with Wizards and Sorcerers before. He removed his hand, and then used it to beckon the figure to the other side of the table. The stranger sat.
"I take it you have something you wish to say to me?" Hethra spoke, softly, dangerously. His dark eyes gleamed. The stranger said nothing, and instead reached into the folds of his robes, and pulled out a small red envelope. He slid it across the table to the Ranger. Hethra picked it up, and turned it over. On the front was a strange rune, one he could not make out. the stranger smiled.
"It is a request. A request of the utmost importance. All of the details are within. You may choose to accept or decline, but i must warn you..." the stranger looked straight into Hethra's eyes as he stood up to leave. Hethra stared back with intensity.
"The message will self-destruct as soon as you decide to accept or decline."
Hethra stared blankly at the stranger.
"You... you're serious?"
***
He had been very serious. The letter, which he had opened later, had been rather mysterious, and unclear in its purpose. It merely stated he was being summoned by a figure called Nimozaran to his tower located a slight distance from the town Hethra had been in. Apparently it was located very close to a forest. Hethra had thought to himself "Well, why not?"
BANG!
So here he was, hours away from shade and shelter, and no forest in sight. He was about to give up, when suddenly, just at the very limit of his vision, he saw the top of a tall tower. He picked up his pace immediately, all fatigue suddenly forgotten as he thought forward to the cool shade that would await him at the base of the tower.
He reached the edge of the forest a few minutes later, surprised to see it loom so quickly out of the horizon. He expected that he would reach the tower itself within an hour or two. He would have been right had it not been for a strange collection of thieves that had apparently collected upon the road he was traveling. There were several of them, and one leaning propped up against a tree, his face wrapped in heavy bandages. On the whole, they didn't seem very threatening. They ran very quickly after Hethra placed some arrows into two of them, in places that would hurt like hell for a good while, but leave them alive. Luckily for him, they had forgotten most of their belongings when they ran. Hethra sifted through them quickly, finding nothing of worth aside from a few gold pieces. He took the gold and went on his way.
He could see the end of the forest ahead of him, and two horses beyond that when he heard a knock, what sounded like a fist on very thick wood, echo from the same clearing. Clearly he hadn't been the only one invited to the party. He made sure his sword was ready beneath his cloak before he stepped from the protection of the forest, to meet whatever awaited him at the Tower doors. If they were friends, then no harm done. If they weren't friendly...
He wasn't one to be caught unprepared.
Seeing the three adventurers at the door, and the Ranger making his way to the tower, Nimozaran summoned an Arcane Gate between the base of the Septarch's Tower and the top floor. "You know, you could have just left the actual door unlocked." Curudir commented. "Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger." Nimozaran pointed out. "You call an Arcane Gate on the outskirts of Fallcrest subtle?" Curudir asked. "No, but you didn't seem to notice the other thing." Nimozaran replied. "What exactly do you, wait, my voice..." Curudir then realised that Nimozaran had transformed him into a woman while he was not paying attention, hopefully in jest. "Very funny. Now change me back." She sarcastically told him. "Fine, but you're much better looking this way." Nimozaran replied, and restored Curudir to his natural male form. "You are a very lonely old man, aren't you?" Curudir unenthusiastically asked. "Maybe." Nimozaran repliedwith an unsettling grin on his face. Curudir looked at the other side of the Arcane Gate. It appeared the others were composed of a dwarf, a dragonborn woman, and two human men.
Hethra took a deep breath as he readied himself for a possible confrontation. So far her knew that at least one person, enemy or ally, was trying to enter the tower, but there could be more. He stepped out from the shelter of the trees. In front of him, a few yards away, he saw a man and a dwarf standing at the entrance to the Tower. The humans fist was hammering at the door, explaining the noises that he had heard earlier. Off to the side, approaching rapidly, was one of the Dragonborn, hailing the two at the door in a booming, raspy voice.
"So, did that old wizard summon you here too?" Hethra decided that if they already knew of the wizard, and if they were still standing, then they were probably safe to approach. He did not, however, fully resheath his blade. It was still ready for any scenario. He walked towards the trio at the base of the tower just as a shimmering portal appeared in front of them. He didn't know if any of the adventurers at the tower had noticed it, still was the attention on the Dragonborn, but Hethra decided he would wait to hail them until they had.
No sense in causing more confusion than he had to.
Seeing the portal, Akra shoved Luther and Garron out of the way and rushed through. Looking at Curudir and Nimozaran, she didn't look impressed. Still, she attempted to remain polite. "So, you must be Nimozaran. And you are?" She asked Curudir. "Curudir Therias, a fighter from the South." Curudir replied. "A bit scrawny for a fighter. Still, that woman I heard from the other side of the portal sounds like she could be a powerful mage, if she avoids alteration spells. Where is she, anyway?" Akra commented. Curudir cringed at the mention, as he thought sound didn't travel through an Arcane Gate. "Um, she's Nimozaran's apprentice, and she's not coming with us." Curudir quickly thought up, though the idea of that made him want to vomit. "Sure you are." He heard Nimozaran mutter under his breath.