Monster Party Book Six: Only mortal trust or faerie dust...
Chapter one: A town where everybody's all the same, like a city full of zombies going by the same name.
"Boss, if he makes it back to the Shadow Rift, we're not going after him." Insisted a dirty blond haired man.
He was dressed in a fairly simple brown cloak, though it was possible to also see he had on a blue suit-coat with a red tie beneath it. His cold blue eyes were made frostier still by a pair of clear blue lenses he wore across them.
"Nobody, NOBODY knows what is in there! It could be like those stories of the places elemental supposedly come from, nothing but shadow. That means no ground to stand on, no food to eat, no water to drink just a lifetime of falling through shadow, not that you'd live all that long. Especially if there's no air to breath either." He continued wearily.
"It probably won't be that bad..." A younger brown eyed man countered.
He was dressed in a bright red jacket and pants with traveling shoes of the same color. A large wide brimmed red hat rested across his head which obscured the color of his hair.
"The joy of another 'I told you so' doesn't make up for the fact that it'll be my last one. If you're so certain we could survive then you can go in. My advice however is to send your girl instead, she'd probably be right at home." The dirty blond haired man insisted.
"Not if I'm the only one, I'd get lonely, by which I mean hungry." A woman shot back.
She had midnight black hair, spilling out from a simple white hat, and was dressed in a white jacket and black pants both cut along masculine lines, though this only ended up displaying more of her feminine figure than any normal dress would have.
Here eyes were concealed behind a pair of ruby red lenses which unlike Cal's had been designed to only be opaque in one direction.
"Cal, James, Mirri, we don't have to argue about this. I'll stand by my promise, if he's made it back to the Shadow Rift then we won't press the issue. We just owe it to Inquisitor Wyan and the others to make sure that Loht the so called 'Prince of Shadows' has learned not to interfere with the people of Tepest." Declared Alexander Diamondclaw, the group's leader.
He was a tall man dressed in a full body black outfit cut along vaguely martial lines with a few silver runes inscribed upon it. His blond hair fell down to his shoulders while his green left eye currently surveyed their surroundings for any sign of a trap or ambush. His right however was completely covered by a black eye-patch.
Callan "Cal" Wright a Lamordian alchemist (the frosty domain was known for producing as many scholars and artificers as it did rampaging golems and run a muck mechanical monsters) found little reassurance in those words.
"Just wanted to make sure we all understand the situation. I don't want to end up hearing 'we came this far we might as well try and go further' when the times comes." He grumbled still expecting the worst.
"The closest we'll come to the Shadow Rift is throwing distance, and I've seen Alexander throw things pretty far." Reflected Devi Skye.
She was a brown haired woman with brown eyes dressed in a close cut blue dress with a flail wrapped around her right arm, ready to uncoil and use at a moments notice.
"We'll hurl the Eye of Vhaeraun into the Shadow Rift and depart. Nothing more can be said on the issue." Declared Florence Bastien decisively.
She was a green eyed woman dressed in a similarly colored leotard like outfit who had decided to shave herself bald. What had once been a powerful tree limb had been repurposed to serve as a staff held loosely in her hands.
This particular group of adventurers last adventure had ended a great deal less decisively than most; the main villain they'd faced (an evil fey named Loht) had managed to escape, even getting his hands on some mystical sword he'd been seeking. The only good news was that he'd been rather badly injured in the process.
Not only had Loht escaped, but another major malefic artifact the group had come upon during their adventure had yet to be properly dealt with.
If inspected by hand in a room completely devoid of light the Eye of Vhaeraun was nothing but a simple round stone about half the size of a man's fist. In the light however it would appear as whatever the viewer most desired, inevitably making them wish to possess it, frequently to a homicidal degree.
Having sought wisdom from an aged Vistana they'd been told that since the Eye's power relied upon light, it could only be destroyed by casting it some place where it would never be seen.
In another situation this might have made for a rather complicated riddle, but luckily there was a decidedly literal answer on hand.
Where the nations of Markovia and G'Henna had once resided, there was now only a gaping chasm cut into the Core. This pool of inky blackness spread across geographical maps as if someone had accidentally spilled a bottle of ink on them. It was called the Shadow Rift, and no human being had ever managed to return from its dark depths.
While normally the Shadow Rift might only be good for insuring that Tepest would never need to fear the armies of Vlad Drakov (not that his previous invasion of neighboring G'Henna had met with much success) soon it would gain another, a sight for the destruction the Eye of Vhaeraun.
Before the group could worry about that though, first they'd need to pass through Briggdarrow, the last remaining town east of the Shadow Rift.
There they planned to resupply and see if the locals had any information which might help them track down Loht. As the six's conversation carried on, slowly the scent of woodsmoke began to fill the air as they finally emerged from the forest they'd been tramping through.
Laying ahead was a small cluster of buildings clinging to the murky shores of Lake Kronov. A more pleasant change from the forest's damp chill would have been difficult to imagine. A battered sign in the shape of a slender fishing bird welcome them to the village of Briggdarrow.
The village seemed a quaint enough place like most towns in Tepest, all the buildings were made of wood or thatch, and there was no house that had more than one story.
It was possible to see many fishermen busily carrying baskets containing the day's catch up from the shore while a number of cooking fires offered the tantalizing promise of a hot meal. Here and there various craftsmen worked to repair wagons, homes, or anything else in need.
The only thing odd about them was how odd they didn't find the new arrivals. The half a dozen adventurers were used to quickly becoming the center of attention wherever they went, and that was doubly so in a domain as paranoid as Tepest.
Here in Briggdarrow though no one seemed to pay them any attention at all.
"Hey, how much are the fish today?" James called out to a nearby fisherman who was at the moment walking in the shade of a large tree.
The fisherman said nothing, he didn't even bother to look in James' direction. The young red haired man began to pat down some of his pockets jingling the coins held within to try and get his target's attention.
"I said, how much are the fish tooooowwwwwoaaahh?!" His slightly louder repetition of the question gave way to a cry of shocked surprise.
James Firecat had traveled across nearly the entire Core (and even to some of the strange islands beyond) and was of a very passive temperament. It took a lot to surprise or unsettle him, but the fisherman managed to pull it off without even trying.
Because when he stepped out from the trees' shade, he the only thing that stepped out of it.
The man cast no shadow upon the ground.
"Mirri are you feeling hungry?" Alexander suddenly asked.
"Not in the least." The black haired woman replied to his apparent non sequitur with utter indifference.
Strangely reassured by her answer James drew a little closer to the fisherman who still refused to pay any attention to him.
Even in his brightly colored outfit and waving his hands around wildly still did nothing at all to make the fisherman acknowledge James' existence.
In the end he technically managed it by stepping directly in front of the fisherman, but only to the extent that the fisherman made the effort necessary to step around James before continuing on his way.
Looking at the town again with a critical eye it soon became clear that the fisherman was ominously par for the course. None of the residence of Briggdarrow cast shadows, None of them cared to acknowledge the group's arrival.
Instead they just went about their work in a vaguely inattentive, almost dazed manner. Their unblinking eyes stared at their chosen tasks without any sort of interest. Their work was slipshod and careless.
If they had looked more pallid and breathed less it would have been easy to believe that the entire town was filled with zombies of some form or another. As it was, Briggdarrow left the six with the strange impression of being the only ones awake in a town full of sleepwalkers.
"Florence if these people are all under some sort of magical enchantment, I'd like to know about it now rather than later." Alexander insisted.
Florence Bastien waved her hands around and chanted words in a language far more primal than any human tongue.
When she had completed the process she shook her head slowly.
"These people aren't under any sort of traditional human magical spell. That means we're unlikely to be effected, but there's nothing I can do for them..." She sighed heavily.
"You said it wasn't a human magical spell, do you mean…?" Alexander began.
"I'll need to see more before I can be sure." Florence cut him off.
The group decided to double back slightly and check out the first building that they'd come across, hoping they could discover more information about the bizarre state of Briggdarrow.
One look around inside the place proved that it must be the town's general store. Coils of rope lay in one corner, an assortment of tools hung on pegs next to the door, and bundles of candles dangled beside an open window.
The keeper of the general store was seated in an uncomfortable looking chair opposite the door. he was a sallow faced man wearing simple clothes and a leather apron. His salt and pepper hair was cut short and his face was coated with stubble, as if he hadn't bothered to shave recently.
Despite the fact that opening the door had caused a bell to ring the merchant only stared blankly ahead, taking no notice of the group. He like everyone else they'd closely examined in Briggdarrow cast no shadow.
"How much is the rope?" Devi asked, but the store's proprietor didn't bother to respond.
"He's got what looks like a cashbox..." Cal suggested his eyes focused on a wooden box with a lock on it sitting a foot or so away from the man.
"We're not stealing from people just because they're not able to realize we're doing it." Alexander insisted.
"Wouldn't think of doing it Boss, it is just cashboxes are important! There are coins inside, and if those coins aren't of a local make it might give us some clues." Cal pointed out.
The tall blond haired man sighed and then made a dismissive motion suggesting that he could think of no reasonable counter argument.
"Need my help?" James offered almost instantly gravitating towards the object in question.
"Not really, that lock looks like a toothless guard dog, more for show than defense." The alchemist insisted as he removed a few tools from his cloak.
Sure enough it took only a few seconds work (which the cashbox's owner remained completely and utterly oblivious to) to spring the lock.
Inside the box were forty coppers, two dozen silvers, and one gold coin. The coins had been struck in the style of the Horseshoe, the Spur and the Bridle, and given Tepest's somewhat backwards nature Nova Vaasan currency was about as close to "local coin" as one was likely to find.
There was also a small notebook inside the cash box and Cal began to eagerly flip through it. He found that like many books in the land of Tepest it was written Vassi, since the written form of Tepestani was still quite new and not very wildly spread.
"Hm, looks like a list of various people's names, who bought what, on what date, and how much they owe him." He explained to the others.
"When is the last entry dated?" Devi inquired.
Cal flipped to the end of the book, then started to flip back as there were many pages that were still blank and waiting to be filled in. Eventually he managed to locate the last page that had writing upon it.
"Four days ago." The alchemist answered before placing the book back in the cashbox and replacing the lock all with the expression of a magician very much upset over the fact they have been made to preform in short sleeves.
"So, shortly before Wyan's daughter was kidnapped. That's something at least..." The blond haired reflected, though being able to place a rough date on the start of the town's misfortune did little to clarify exactly what had happened to the people of Briggdarrow.
"Lets go inspect this town's church, whenever disaster strikes people tend to flee there..." Alexander suggested since it seemed that there was nothing more that could be learned from the small shop.
Luckily the church was not far at all from the general store.
It was not especially grand as one might expect from a minor village like Briggdarrow. Near the front of the building beneath a wicker dome stood a stone statue of a muscular man who was wearing seashell armor. He held a trident with a fish impaled upon it, and the man's expression was wise but also openly benevolent.
Alexander had no trouble at all recognizing the figure as Manannan mac Lir, the Tepestani god of fishermen and the sea.
Inside the temple looked anything but ordinary.
Briggdarrow's church was less well furnished than the one back in Viktal, it had chairs for worshipers to use instead of proper pews. Those chairs had all been cast into a haphazard pile around the central altar.
Dozens of guttered black candles covered the wooden floor, each at least three feet away from all the others. Scattered around these blobs of dark wax were some strange black crumbs.
"Florence?" Alex asked at once, not bothering to directly request what he wanted.
Florence Bastien for her part needed no further clarification, she repeated the necessary incantation having already used it once that day.
"Candles are magic, so are the crumbs." She answered confirming Alexander's suspicions.
"Whatever you do, don't eat the food, don't even touch it, nothing good comes from unknown magical food." Alexander advised his companions as he took a few cautious steps into the church.
He bent down next to one of the strange black candles and sighed heavily before straightening up.
"Magic candles, magic food, the way these people are behaving… they're elf-shot." He realized in surprise.
"Excuse me?" Devi Skye suddenly interjected seeming most upset by Alexander's choice of words.
"Sorry, they're shadow-reft. Except, this doesn't match any of the stories..." He lamented trying to make sense of the strange fate of Briggdarrow.
"Why don't you fill the rest of us in on what you know? Some of us come from sensible places where a man's shadow does the sensible thing and follows him around." Calla Wright offered.
Alexander retreated back out of the church as quickly as he could and only once he was completely outside its walls did he respond.
"I've heard this is what happens when some fey, the worst kind of fey, get interested in mortal demi-humans, in the worst way possible. They don't see us as people, just animals, and they're only interested in a horse so long as it dances.
They don't even have the decency to kidnap the entire person, they just take their shadow and in doing so hollow the person out. What's left behind… well look around and see for yourself." He reflected gesturing vaguely towards the citizens of Briggdarrow who continued to sleepwalk through their lives.
"Wait, so in this analogy, a person's shadow contains all of their emotions and personality? Shouldn't the shadow contain all of the things that a person doesn't like about themselves? Maybe everything that they won't admit is actually apart of themselves? Like for example Boss' shadow would contain the fact that he has such a huge tremendous ego. You know, because it is dark and follows them around no matter how they try to get rid of it..." The alchemist pointed out.
"Wrong again Cal, I am on amazingly good terms with my tremendous ego, it is one of my top ten best features." Alexander insisted.
"I once turned you into a floating gaseous version of yourself. After going through that experience, you're still expecting magic to obey the rules of your Lamordian logic?" The green clad woman pointed out.
"Do you promise not to turn me into a tree if I still say 'yes' to that question?" Cal ventured a touch timidly.
"Turn you into a tree? Now you're the one who is talking madness. Conventional magic doesn't allow for transformations that great." Florence offered by way of reassurance.
"It is simply too difficult because you're transforming an animal into a plant. What you should be worried about is the possibility of being transformed into another animal, like a beetle, ant, cockroach, termite, basically all manner of miniscule insects..." She added in a most unhelpful manner.
"Have I mentioned that I really hate magic yet today? Because now seems like a good time to do that." Cal whimpered, earning him a few scattered claps of approval from Mirri who had a similar dislike of the mystical arts.
"What matters..." Alexander coughed trying to bring the subject of conversation back to the matter at hand.
"Is that even the most foul hearted of evil fey wouldn't do something like this. They don't go stealing people's shadows because they like to cause suffering, they do it because they see some great skill and want to see it preserved. They think its a great honor!
My mother's stories were very clear on this point, only people of exception ability are chosen to be shadow-reft, something like one in a hundred at most. Why would they decide to steal the shadows of everyone in an entire village?"
"Maybe we'll be able to find some and ask them. Would you like to help me with the process Mirri?" Florence offered.
Somehow the lenses of Mirri's glasses seemed to sparkle even though it was impossible to see what was going on behind them.
"Oh, is this the 'fun Florence' I heard about? I'd love to help you ask questions! Some of my favorite are 'why are you hitting yourself' 'does this hurt' 'how about now' and of course 'I've heard massive blood loss can be transcendentally blissful experience, why don't you tell me all about it' that one's a personal favorite!" Mirri gushed with clear malice aforethought.
"One way or another we need to get to the bottom of this. Lets go explore the rest of the town, there are bound to be more clues if we look carefully enough." Alexander ordered.
End Chapter.
AN: I'm sorry, I forgot to include Rima's speech to the group about the Eye in the Epilogue chapter of the last book going to go fix that a little bit later but wanted to get a new book started/get a chapter posted.
Amusingly Cal offers a very Jungian description of what a person's shadow should represent ("amusing" since Carl Jung is German and Lamordia has some distinct German aspects to its language and in some ways its people/culture represent the "harmless/domestic Germanic Efficiency Stereotype" (as opposed to Falkovnia which represents a very different German stereotype...)) but since the magic ritual in question comes from an entirely different culture, he's understandably wrong. Not that I know of a person's shadow representing their vitality/personality in a lot of Irish myths, though I don't really know a lot of Irish folklore/myths either honestly.
Also Florence is entirely correct in so far as I don't know of any druid spells in D&D for turning other people into trees against their will. That said, Baleful Polymorph is a level 5 spell (meaning you only need to be a level 9 druid to cast it) which will PERMANENTLY (give or take dispel magic or similar, I'm just saying the spell never ends if you try to just wait it out) transform someone into an animal against their will, and if they're stuck in that form for over 24 hours (possibly even every 24 hours they stay in that shape the descriptive text ("If the subject remains in the new form for 24 consecutive hours...") is less than perfectly clear) they need to make a will save, and if they fail then they become whatever they've been turned into mentally as well as physically. Keep in mind that even with the arcane magic equivalent of Polymorph Other you don't have to worry about mental changes….
Baleful Polymorph, because wizards will be happy to just charbroil you to a crisp, but druids won't think you've suffered enough until you've learned something from the experience.
Florence luckily isn't the type to transform people into insects and then squish them… but it's something that can happen to you in Ravenloft if you piss off the wrong person. She also to her credit knows the other major counter charm against such spells (besides both regular and greater dispel magic which she knows on general principle) which is "Control Shape".
Control Shape first showed up in Ravenloft Gazetteer I (1) and it's a 4th level spell that lasts for an hour per level of the caster, it causes any person who is suffering from a transformation against their will (so can be baleful polymorph, similar spells, or lycanthropy) to instead gain the ability to transform between whatever shape they used to be and the shape they were turned into as a standard action as many times as they wish.
