Episode 35: Fashionistas

Daric peers carefully around another corner. This floor of the Quarry Mage tower is a clutter of angled hallways, passages to nowhere, intersections in unseemly places. The design is actually quite effective: it enables the wizards to move about, surrounding invaders and taking them out with surprise spells. Not that it mattered too much, the rag-tag group of escapees has made fairly quick work of these mages despite all of them, save Daric, being imprisoned for the past three months. “I don’t think these mages thought out their defenses that well”, he thinks. “Perhaps they should have put in more physical barriers instead of relying on their spellcraft. I’m also guessing they’re way out of practice. Maybe they should get out in the field more.”

He approaches yet another intersection. As usual, the elf takes it slow as he peeks around the corner. It takes a moment for his vision to adjust: there’s light coming from a door to the right. He hears voices:

“I have to tell you: I’ve got my orders. I’m supposed to send you to my master. You know what HE will do, don’t you? He will RIP what you know from your MIND, and leave you a broken, shell of man! Is that what you want?”

Daric hears a muffled reply, a voice so weak it’s hardly audible.

“I can spare you all of that. if you tell me what you know right now, I’ll let you go. You can go back to whatever godforsaken land you came from. Hell, I’ll even give you a camel! Isn’t that a lot better than being chained to the wall, your own filth up past your ankles? Is this really worth dying for?”

Daric hears a familiar grunt behind him. He turns to see the bulk of Bas the minotaur, with the rest of his companions coming up behind. Daric puts his finger to his lips, the rest take his cue and freeze in their tracks. Daric is intrigued and wants to hear more: what secret is this inquisitor trying to get from his hidden prisoner?

“Dammit” yells the voice. “I have had enough!” A crash is heard, followed by metallic clanking as if tools were hitting the floor. “TELL ME WHERE YOU GOT THIS CLOAK OR I WILL MURDER YOU RIGHT HERE AND NOW.”

Daric is startled at that, he now knows who the prisoner is. Turning to the minotaur, he whispers “I think there’s another wizard in there who wants a word with you.” Bas snorts and casts Daric a wide grin. “Just watch out for the prisoner, he’s a friend of mine.”

——

Ket rubs his wrists. Clearly, the past three months have been hell. Ebo ties another healing poultice to his arm while the scout continues his tale. “They really wanted to know where my cloak came from, and how to make it work."

Daric holds Ket's cloak in his hands. “I wonder why they were so fascinated by it? There are plenty of ways to add protective enhancements to cloaks and armor. What’s so special about this?”

“I don’t know. It’s all they asked me, they didn’t care about anything else."

“Would you mind if I put it on?” asks the wizard. “I promise to give it back.”

“Um, you might not want to do that.” Ket points at the dead wizard by the minotaur’s feet. “He put it on once, it burned him pretty badly.”

Daric walked over to the corpse, and rolled up its voluminous sleeves. Sure enough, the dead wizard’s arms are covered in burn scars. “Interesting. How did you come by it?"

“It was given to us as a reward by a dryad back in Ag-Rakade, I’ve been wearing it ever since. It’s saved my life more than once. Never had a problem with it, but it clearly didn’t like him.”

“What do dryads have to do with any of this? What are these wizards up to?"

Samman, who had been rifling through the various equipment on the shelves, pipes in. “Maybe this will help”. He hands over a note, formerly sealed with black wax (the sealing sigil no longer readable). In very fanciful script, the note reads:"Meriptah,""Our benefactor’s patience is wearing thin. Emissaries are on the way to the Quarry now, they have orders to take the Cloak back with them when the leave. It would be a boon to your career, and a credit to our race, if the Cloak were accompanied by a full report detailing its abilities and effects. Do not disappoint me, elsewise you may find yourself reassigned to wyvern duties.""'Osymundyas, H. M."Daric carefully stows the note in his pack while Ket gets to his feet. “So what’s the plan? What’s going on?”

Samman replies, “Our allies are attacking outside. We’ve got to find the others and get out of here before the mages blow the tower.”

“Terrific. Did you guys find my swords?” Daric grabs them out of his pack and tosses them to the rogue. "By the gods, I hate these guys,” says Ket.

“Be thankful,” says Gimble the gnome. “At least they didn’t dissect you.

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