The Throne of Fur

07 Newkolt 349 AC

Menathradon arrives in Silvanost, having teleported in from the Tower of Wayreth to assist in the rebuilding process.

AT THE PARTIALLY REBUILT HOUSE OF HEALING

Grotto waits to hear Agnes response about her kin joining the war and any clues to dark catacombs.

Agnes nods. "I could go back to my clan and tell them about these dragonmen. Somehow, I feel like they are linked to our stolen eggs." She gazes off into the distance for about a minute and then shakes her head. "Sorry. I was thinking about how I would get back to the island, I didn't mean to ignore your other question. I know nothing about hidden catacombs beneath Silvanost."

Arthur looks to Lorraine, "By any chance is there a crypt in this city? Or some long forgotten tomb?"

Lorraine shakes her head, "We have mausoleums for our departed. This close to the river, we have had problems with flooding in basements since the water table is so close to the surface. I suppose there could be hidden chambers in the temples we stopped using when the gods departed. Almost all of the Gods of Light: El'i, his queen Illumini, Kiri-Jolith, the Blue Phoenix, Astarin, all of them have stood empty for much of the last four centuries."

Grotto looks to Agnes and Arthur, he says to Arthur, "Will you be coming with me to look for our gods or will you go with Lady Agnes to meet her kin to help plead our case for the noble metallic dragons to join our cause?"

Arthur looks to Grotto,"I'll fly with Agnes and plead our case." Arthur clasps him om the shoulder "Be safe my friend, let the other know I'll return as soon as I can." The paladin turns to Agnes, "Let us go."

Grotto says to Agnes, "Please, fly swiftly. I too feel the two are linked. We can use all the help we can get. Hopefully we will be in a rescue mission for the eggs. If they harmed the young wyrm within the eggs, that is an act of genocide against your people. Kidnapping and killing of the younglings can not stand either way! When you return, find me in the darkness looking for god!"


Agnes nods, "Be safe, Good Dwarf." She takes a few steps back, her skin already taking on its mirrored sheen. Horns sprout around her neck and fuse into a crest that frames her head. Her clothing is absorbed into her body as wings erupt from her shoulders. She doubles, then triples in size, her arms lengthen and claws grow from her now massive hands. A long, sinuous tail emerges and she drops to all fours as she assumes her draconic form.

Grotto replies with a worried look on his scarred face, "Wish me well, into the darkness I go. I hope to see you again"

Ag'nesallynn turns her head, "My Knight, it is time to fly!"

Grotto readies himself. Fear grabs his mind. He wishes Agnes and Arthur well as they fly towards her kin. The dwarf looks at the ground. His feelings of abandonment swell. He yells to the void, "For my god! For the land! Hanseath great god of war, guide my steps!"

Lorraine touches Grotto's shoulder, "Before you run off half-cocked like your elven friend, if I may interject," the old healer moves in front of the scarred dwarf and looks him in the eye, "Listen closely, the Gods of Light are not cruel, only absent. If you seek a war god like your Hanseath, I can take you to the temple of Kiri-Jolith. You can start your search there."

AT THE TREE OF PROGRESS

“Well this must be important.” Cedron completes his prayer and returns to the others at the direction of the eerily sounding owl. “Lead me to them, my friend.” Cedron grabs the hems of his cloak and takes to the air, flying after Bubo returning to Kysek with a sense of urgency.

IN COUNCILOR SUMMERWALKER'S WAREHOUSE ~ NOW SERVING AS RA'ZIIR/SHADOW/KYSEK'S COMMAND CENTER

Shadow continues speaking with Lord Hamish as they wait on Cedron, "So tell me of your court, Lord Hamish, what do you do for entertainment there?”

Lord Hamish smiles, "Saim as a'body, dances, parties, guid fairn, hae wild 'n' anonymous shags wi' multiple partners either in succession or a' at wance, speil pranks oan mortals, git guid 'n' liquored up, ye ken, th' usual."

Ra’ziir asks the cat “Who is your original employer, the one who hasn’t paid up yet?”

Lord Hamish shakes his head, "Na offense, laddie. Bit ah cannae answer sic a straightforward quaistion as simply as that - tis nae howfur th' folk work." He thinks for a second before answering, "This is yin kent tae th' sugar plum, a grieving mither wha wis wance a miller's guidwife, th' mistress o' hings that creep 'n' crawl wi' duin stings in th' steid o' spears, yin wha's mithral crown wis placed upon her brow by th' yin she plots tae murdurr."

Ra’ziir relays the riddle to Raven via their mental link, then adds “Is this cat referring to Ellesandra?”

Raven listens and then sighs. "I gave her son two chances to surrender and gave her the Crown of Crawling Fey. She has Eilra, Cassidy, and the others?"

“It would seem so, according to this fey cat… would you like me to tell him anything in response, and would you like me and Shadow to come fetch you from Kurinost?”

"Not yet, I have a situation here. Do you have a way for us to evacuate between fifty and sixty possible prisoners? Say, just after midnight?"

"Yes. Shadow and I can prepare spells of mass teleportation to transport your prisoners. We should find somewhere to hold them also..”

"No, prisoners I will be rescuing. Kurinost has fallen completely."

Ra’ziir shares the information with Shadow. The dark elf nods, “My teleport will bring 10 to 20 folks depending on the eating habits. I doubt they will be fat so 15 to 20 max. Maybe we can make two trips?”

“Understood. That will give us time to prep the spells. I’ll notify you when we’re en route.” Ra’ziir explains the plan with Shadow “We should prepare the mass teleportation spell at least twice each to be safe.. plus at least as many spells of teleportation just to get us there and then back again to get all the prisoners here… does that make sense?”

Kysek leans in, a slow smile spreading across his face, “Ahhh; it’s becoming a little clearer now, Lord Hamish. You were withheld payment for the services you provided; so you come to us asking for a song for your information. However; your actual payment is the retaliation that you’re certain will come. Does that about cover it?”, the elven thief turned mage states to the cat as he awaits Bubo's return with Cedron.

It is at this point that Kysek gets a first-hand demonstration of the expression that lead to the coining of the phrase "the cat that ate the canary".

Cedron arrives at the semi-converted warehouse where Kysek, Shadow, and Ra'ziir fill him in on the deal they have struck with Lord Hamish.

“A song about a cat, exclaiming the virtues of said cat.” Ced begins contemplating his repertoire. “Maybe I can improvise a few melodies I’ve used for royals?” He ponders for a moment before clearing his throat.

🎶 “Upon the sill in regal grace,
The sunlight crowns his ancient face.
No king nor knight could ever dare
To rule with such instinctive flair. 🎵

🎶 "He needs no crown, no throne of gold,
His gaze alone can make you fold.
A silent prince, a shadow purr—
All hail the throne, the throne of fur. 🎵

🎶 He moves with silence, velvet-pawed,
A ghost of dusk that leaves you awed.
No leash, no law, no soul he owes—
He walks the path the wild one knows. 🎵

🎶 He needs no crown, no throne of gold,
His gaze alone can make you fold.
A silent prince, a shadow purr—
All hail the throne, the throne of fur. 🎵

🎶 His eyes, twin lanterns, gold and wise,
Have pierced the veils of age and skies.
He sees through lies and knows the game,
While dogs still bark at shadows' name. 🎵

🎶 He needs no crown, no throne of gold,
His gaze alone can make you fold.
A silent prince, a shadow purr—
All hail the throne, the throne of fur. 🎵

🎶 You fetch and beg—he claims, commands,
With softest touch and steadiest hands.
Where canines serve for treat and pat,
The world itself shall serve the cat. 🎵

🎶 He needs no crown, no throne of gold,
His gaze alone can make you fold.
A silent prince, a shadow purr—
All hail the throne, the throne of fur. 🎵

🎶 No foolish loyalty he feigns,
He loves with depth that still remains.
Not bought, not bred to please or play—
He stays because he wills to stay. 🎵

🎶 He needs no crown, no throne of gold,
His gaze alone can make you fold.
A silent prince, a shadow purr—
All hail the throne, the throne of fur. 🎵

🎶 So raise a glass, and bow your head
To whiskered gods on silken bed.
For all who think they lead the pack—
A feline rules behind your back. 🎵

🎶 He needs no crown, no throne of gold,
His gaze alone can make you fold.
A silent prince, a shadow purr—
All hail the throne… the throne of fur.” 🎵

Lord Hamish sits at attention throughout the bard's song. As it comes to an end, he inclines his head toward Cedron, "Weel dane. Yer a credit tae yer craft. Ah accept yer jiro as made 'n' shall fulfill mah pairt o' oor bargain ... Begin yer search in th' court o' th' River King." The cat rises. "Yin lest thing, ken that this be a trap. Th' Lassie o' Crawling Fey haes marshaled a' o' her forces 'n' wull be waiting lik' a spider in her web."

Then without fanfare, without a single word or even the slightest movement, Lord Hamish vanishes from the table.

AND, FINALLY, HIDDEN IN A FLAG SHOP IN KURINOST...

Raven spends hours watching the prison ship. The minotaurs, despite their savage appearance, run a tight command. Despite the cold, despite the ice-bound harbor, they are constantly at work maintaining their vessel. Deckhands beat the running rigging with large wooden dowels to break icicles free from the lines. A work crew down on the ice is pressing hot tar into the seams of the hull's wooden planking. A small group of ten warriors spar in pairs while an older minotaur with gray in his muzzle looks on with a keen eye. Their forms are rudimentary, emphasizing their power and reach with little finesse. Every so often, the veteran stops a pair of duelists, corrects one of their forms and has them begin again. The swordsman shakes his head and has to look repeatedly, trying to wrap his head around the fact that these minotaurs have feet instead of hooves!

Raven's eyes keep drifting back to the sailors on the ice. He begins calculating, estimating the thickness of the hull's planking. On a regular ship, this would probably only be an inch or so but given the sea-going nature of the ship and the size of its sailors, he estimates that this ship is likely twice or even three times that specification.

The prisoners are likely being held at or just below the waterline and the ice is thick enough to support a work party of heavy minotaur sailors. Raven smiles slightly as he turns his eyes to Nightwatcher and its adamantite blade. 

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