Day 2, Afternoon:
Aside from the constant pleading of Brindol’s children clamoring to ride your Pegasus, things have been relatively quiet for you. There’s a plow-pulling competition tomorrow that looks interesting, and plenty of people have suggested you enter the boxing and arm wrestling tournaments, but you remain unsure.
As your companions accept and participate in the festivities, you hang back with much on your mind. Perhaps the heavy reading of the Chronicles has taken its toll on your heart? I mean, it’s not every day one learns their home hasn’t existed for nearly six hundred years…
Day 2, Evening:
Growing tired of watching your companions compete in various games, and feeling a sudden pang of hunger, you make your way to the Stone Wyvern with young Fergus in tow. It’s packed, though you manage to find a seat toward the back. Fergus is enthralled by the petrified Wyvern. “It’s huge!” he exclaims. “Whoa. What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the stinger. You take it as a teaching opportunity, explaining the beast’s basic anatomy, its methods of attack, and where to strike for maximum effect. By the time the lesson’s done you’ve attracted a small crowd of onlookers hanging fervently to your every word as in a spellbound trance.
“Treybold Finch!” a young halfling announces, thrusting his open palm up toward you.
“Ayas,” you say in return, shaking his small hand carefully.
“I know who you are! Fate’s Hammer, right?”
You nod.
“Thought so. I’m the proprietor,” he adds. “You sure know a lot about wyverns!”
Uncomfortable with your newfound stardom, you demure.
“Please, let me show you to your seat,” he insists.
“We already have a seat. Back there,” you say pointing.
“Oh no!” he exclaims. “I have a reserved table for you and your friends. Please. Come.”
Sure enough, there’s a table near the front door, set within a bay window. Well lit, whoever sits there can clearly be seen from up and down the street. Fergus is thrilled. You? Not so much. What you had hoped to be a quiet bite to eat has turned into a publicity stunt as admirers of Fate’s Hammer clamor for your attention. Before you know it, the table before you is heaped with steaming scalloped potatoes, ham, mixed vegetables, soup, bread, roast goose, deviled eggs, a pumpkin pie, a pecan pie, a flagon of wine and about a dozen chilled mugs of beer. You accept the gifts and thank the well-wishers as best you can, secretly hoping Kai was here to avail you.
Exhausted and on the edge of annoyance, you’re shocked when looking out to the sanctuary of the street, you see two dragonborn looking right back at you. Instantly, you’re reminded of the disappearance of Valanus and his men outside of Yellow Water. Standing, you try to force your way through the crowd toward the front door. A move made unnecessary as they enter to greet you.
“Good evening Ayas Raion,” the taller of the two asserts. “I am Savaxis Iscalon, son of Tajan, son of Xafiq, brother to Inzul, Dux of the Velites. This is my attendant, Khiraj Razaan, son of Brevarr, son of Draxan.
You can’t help but smile. It’s been too long since you’ve heard a properly announced pedigree, reminding you of just how foreign this land of humans is and although you don’t recognize the names, you know the title Dux means leader, and a Velite was a spearman, at least in your time.
“Yabling,” you roar over the noise of the crowd.
The little halfling instantly appears. “What is it?” he asks worriedly. “Is the food unsatisfactory? Is the goose not cooked? Is the..”
You interrupt him. “Everything’s magnificent. Thank you. I was hoping you might have a room where I could talk in private with my acquaintances.”
Undeniably relieved, he looks from you to the other dragonborn and back to you. “A room just opened up,” he says. “Give me just a minute.”
Your gaze follows him as he makes his way to the bar and engages in a lively discussion with a tough looking halfling of the female persuasion. Her expression goes from shock to outrage as she looks over his shoulder in your direction. Yabling shrugs and she stomps upstairs rather angrily. Returning, he invites you to follow him.
“Right this way gentlemen. Should I have the food sent up?”
“That would be fine.”
“Ayas?” Fergus speaks up. “Can I stay here and play with Rollo and Poe?” he asks, gesturing to the two halflings about his age.
Relieved for the timely convenience, you look to Yabling.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” the innkeeper offers, freeing you to talk with Savaxis and Inzul…
Day 2, Night:
You stand in the center of the small room surveying your surroundings as your eyes adjust to the dim light, an annoying buzz replacing the unrelenting noise of the inn. As it abates, you notice Inzul whispering to Savaxis, but try as you might, you can’t decipher his words.
Catching you watching him he tells Savaxis, speaking in draconic. “I’ll wait outside.” Turning to you he asks, “Is there anything you might require?”
You shake your head, indicating no.
“Very well.”
As the door closes behind him, Savaxis invites you to sit. “Please,” he suggests.
Doing so, you pour a goblet of chilled water before offering the ewer to Savaxis.
“Thank you.” “You must have questions,” he surmises. Again, he speaks in draconic, and you realize it’s been a long while since you’ve heard it spoken correctly.
You must have smiled, for Savaxis notices something and quizzes you, “What is it?”
You shake your head again. “Nothing. I haven’t heard our language spoken in a long time.”
He smiles at that. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is beautiful is it not? By contrast the human tongue is so… coarse.”
“How do you know my name?” you ask, changing the subject.
“Good question,” he answers, buying time to think. It doesn’t take him long to get his thoughts in order.
“We knew there was a dragonborn counted among the ranks of the adventuring group, Fate’s Hammer.”
You interrupt him. “Who’s “we” and what do you know of Fate’s Hammer?”
His brow furrows. It’s evident he’s unaccustomed to being interrupted.
“We, as in the Remnants of Rhestilor, but mainly our commander Magorax. As to the how, realize it or not, the entire Vale knows the story of Fate’s Hammer. How you repelled an army of orcs and ogres at Frandor’s Keep. How you dismantled an evil sect of Bane led by the once proud and noble paladin, Balin. You saved the town of Hommlett, but lost two members in the process… I am sorry about that.”
You nod, accepting the condolence. “That was before my time. I didn’t know them. Please. Continue.”
“The stories go on. How you closed a portal to the Feywild, defeating a demented Foulspawn in the process who was hell-bent on destroying the world.”
He pauses for a moment to take a drink.
“That is fine tasting water,” he states, refilling his cup. “Nothing like this in the Thornewaste. Everything there is gritty and tastes of charcoal. Have you ever been?”
“No.”
“Good for you.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Right.” “My favorite describes how you rid the Vale of a barbaric tribe of gnolls. The Wicked Fangs if I’m not mistaken. They say you stopped their chief, Fangren, from opening a portal to the Abyss, interrupting a ritual that would’ve allowed Yeenoghu to enter the world. In fact, as told to me, he had nearly completed it. Yeenoghu’s hand was beginning to emerge. Is that true?”
“It is.”
“Unbelievable,” he says impressed. “You know, that also happens to be the first story we heard.”
“Where?”
“A Bard in Overlook. A beautiful eladrin with a voice to match. Don’t recall her name… Last I knew she was singing at Pollivar’s and recounting this epic battle with Fangren. And more importantly, the discovery of a dragonborn soldier with no memory…”
“I see.”
“As you can imagine, we were all intrigued by your story. Even more so after discovering your heritage…”
“What do you mean?” you ask greedily, instantly chastising yourself for sounding too eager.
For his part, Savaxis either didn’t catch it, or chose to ignore it.
“Raion,” he says emphatically.
You just sit there looking at him, holding your breath in anticipation.
“So the story’s true then?” he asks with a slight hint of sadness.
“What do you mean?”
“You have no memory of who you are, where you’re from?”
“None,” you admit.
He nods in sympathy.
“You must meet Magorax. He will be able to tell you much more than I.”
“You know something,” you accuse him. “Why is my family name so important?”
“A fair question,” he answers, studying the intensity of your face.
“Very well. I will tell you. But you must forgive me if I’m lacking in areas…”
“Of course,” you answer. “Please. Proceed.”
“There were two important Raions in our history. Radgy and Naje. Radgy was a member of the martial caste. A renowned weaponsmith of considerable talent, he was a gifted strategist and fine leader, well-liked and well-respected.”
He pauses for a moment before continuing.
“His wife, Naje, was a member of the arcane caste, renown for crafting magnificent armor, she imbued her creations with powerful magic. She was as beautiful as she was wise and her advice was highly regarded and sought after.” “What do you know of the final days?” he asks more seriously.
“There was a war. I remember chaos and terror.”
Savaxis raises an eyebrow. “You speak almost as if you were there…”
Covering your slip, you answer, “I have known chaos and terror Savaxis. So yes, in a way, I’ve been there.”
“Yes. I suppose we all have,” he agrees. “You know of the rift between the worshipers of Bahamat and Tiamat?”
“I do.”
“Well. In the last days, the followers of Tiamat launched an attack on Rhest itself. By all accounts it was well-planned, well-executed, and brutal in its effectiveness. In fact, if it weren’t for the heroic sacrifice of Radgy, all would have been lost. According to legend, armed with his famed sword Elatus and wearing, Contego, the armor crafted for him by his wife Naje, he single-handedly battled an aspect of the Dragon Queen herself, buying time for others to escape, reorganize, and launch a counterattack.”
Savaxis rests for a moment, shaking his head in sadness.
“This is where the story differs. The majority believe he died a martyr’s death, though there’s another ending disputing that. It claims he was sparred death by Bahamut himself and carried away to his palace at the end of the East Wind. I admit, I would like to believe that, but as a warrior, I find it difficult. I think it more a story born from the fact his body was never recovered.”
Again he pauses, inhaling and exhaling in a deep sigh before continuing. “As it were, much of the city was destroyed and many of Bahamut’s faithful were slain that day. It was Naje who rallied the survivors, willing them, forcing them to endure. In the end, however, we were too decimated to face the next threat. Humans.”
“What happened to her?” you ask, unwilling to let the story end.
“History tells us she was given a vision. To relocate our people to the Thornewaste where they would live unmolested until the time was right to return. The priests, desperate to avoid extinction at the hands of the humans, embraced her vision. They ordered the levees and dams destroyed and our great city succumbed to the lake, where it lies in wait, free from plunder and desecration. As for Naje, there’s no record she accompanied our people to the Thornewaste. Most believe she remained in Rhest in the temple built to honor her husband. No one truly knows…”
A sudden wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm you.
“Are you okay?” Savaxis asks, concerned.
You fight through the debilitating weakness. “I’m fine,” you answer.
“Are you sure? Would you like some…”
You interrupt, “Truly. I’m fine. But I have a question.”
“Ask it.”
“Magorax believes me to be of relation?”
“Truthfully? He does not know. But he would like to speak with you. In fact, he told me that if by chance we were to meet, I was to invite you to seek him out in Talar. He will be there in two week’s time.”
Rising to your feet you answer. “I will think about it.”
Savaxis offers his forearm in the warrior’s style. “Please do. I think it would be good for you.”
Moments later you’re walking the mostly empty streets back toward Jarmath’s keep. Thankful Fergus is fast asleep, you’re left alone with your thoughts, knowing full well you won’t be able to sleep for quite some time…
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