As the invisibility spell wore off, Ghanadar’s plain gray robe reflected the moonlight, but hopefully not enough to allow his pursuers a glimpse of his hiding spot. The small gnome had just made it into the forests north of Alaron before the guards that were chasing him lost their way. It wasn’t the first time he had owed his life to the tall trees. His spells had also concealed his position many times when his small feet could not run any further. The flight from the city was fast-paced and dangerous, and if just one of the Watchmen were able to get their hands on him, the end would be shortly after.
Ghanadar breathed heavily and mumbled a few arcane words, conjuring up a few goodberries and some water to quench his aching throat. Leaning against the tree, the sounds of the Watch slowly faded away. He was left only with the sound of crickets, squirrels and the moist night air of the deep forest. For the better part of two days, he had been on the run, and now found himself well within the forest’s boundaries. He could only hope that the men chasing him did not have a ranger with them, able to track his steps despite the many spells he had cast to conceal his movement.
Over one year ago, the gnome had met his nephew under strange circumstances, but he could not have foreseen what would come of it. Since that fateful day, he had gone on with his life as normal, researching his craft and serving the city Watch with loyalty. It was only a short six months after that he had been accused of conspiring with a traitor, a crime punishable by a lifetime in the seaside dungeons of the western coast. Despite his arguments and logical rebuttals, the die had been cast – he was a criminal against the capital city. His flight had begun.
Attempting to traverse the city in hiding proved useful, and for another three months he was able to gather information about the political and economical changes that were taking place in his beloved home. It was apparent that Calad Brae was becoming a different animal, and the magic flowed more than ever out of the city. He had spent most of his time hiding in the Royal Peaceyards among the graves and tombstones. Whatever was happening still respected the sacred and quiet bonds of eternal rest. Guards were slim in the middle of the night, and luckily the winter months has passed before all of this had taken place – the gods of warmth it seemed, were on his side. Ghanadar knew the laws of action & reaction, and a change for the better on this scale could not have come without great sacrifice. But who’s? It was not a question to be answered soon, and it was only a matter of time before the city’s magical defenses became so overpowering that a simple disguise self spell did not do the trick anymore. Even the Peaceyards fell victim to the “betterment” of the city. One night, he awoke to the sounds of clinking swords, and gruff voices in his direction. They knew he was here…
It had been three days since his run from the city, the voices he heard in the Peaceyards only now fading away – but they would return. He knew that, somehow. He breathed another sigh of relief and cast locate object, hoping to find the small medallion he had given to his friend, the traitor, just over six months ago. Ghanadar knew he was near, or at least that was what he believed, based on their last conversation. The spell hummed quietly in his head and he closed his eyes, receiving a outlined image of his surroundings. Nothing. He would have to keep walking and casting, trusting his intuition that he was on the right path. Ghanadar continued north.
Another day passed and the gnome woke up from his slumber on the woodland floor, covered in the makeshift hiding spot of leaves and twigs. He had slept through the entire day, finding now that it was twilight, with dusk fast approaching. Researching his spells immediately, he again began his casting and heading north; it was only an hour before night had set. Scanning his closed eyes across the nighttime landscape, it appeared. The small medallion he had given his friend, glowed brightly even through the earth that covered it. The small gift would produce two small meals a day, water and warmth – enough to keep someone alive during the kinder months.
Ghanadar approached carefully, noticing that a small hole had been dug in the ground, a very faint light of fire reflecting upwards. Were he not looking right at it, it would have been lost. Approaching, he heard the string of a hunter’s bow becoming taut, and the shadow of an arrow tip pointing upwards. “Show yourself.” whispered the voice from inside. It was a raspy-edged tone, one that did not betray the hardships he had gone through to escape. Ghanadar moved to the entrance, hands raised, until he saw the scarred face of his friend. The man was disheveled, in sore need of a bath, with scars on his arms and face that would rival even the most prestigious battle wounds. A stubbled beard covered his face, and his legs wobbled, giving away the weakness that lie there. The man lowered his bow and dragged a bad leg, revealing a small hole, enough to hold a fire, cot and some weapons. He looked at the gnome, and smiled his bittersweet hello. Ghanadar clasped a hand on his shoulder, returning the welcome.
“Amadius, my friend. How times have changed.”
In all seriousness, there have been so many clues this campaign, that I’m sure even Namakin’s accurate quill has failed to record all of them. Here is a refresher for clues that may have fallen along the wayside. Use these in conjunction with the upcoming Ghanadar post, and you should have a steady path for planning next session:
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