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Chapter #1220

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                           +                   +
                         +                       +
                       +      THE ADVENTURERS      +
                         +                       +
                           +      Epic VI      +
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+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+     Many of the locations, non-player characters, spells, and other     +
+   terms used in these stories are the property of Wizards of the Coast  +
+   which has in no way endorsed or authorized their use.  Any such       +
+   property contained within these stories are not representative of     +
+   Wizards of the Coast in any fashion.                                  +
+     The player characters depicted in these stories are copyright       +
+   1991-2026 by Thomas A. Miller.  Any resemblance to any persons        +
+   or characters either real or fictional is utterly coincidental.       +
+   Copying and/or distribution of these stories is permissible under     +
+   the sole condition that no money is made in the process.  In that     +
+   case, I hope you enjoy them!                                          +
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+   Date:          4/20/587 C.Y. (Common Year)                            +
+   Time:          morning                                                +
+   Place:         the northern end of the Rakers mountain range          +
+   Climate:       cold                                                   +
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+   "They know you’re coming."                                            +
+   "Of course...but it won’t matter."                                    +
+                  - from _John Wick_                                     +
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++





                   MCCXX.  The Hidden Fortress





  Deep in the northern reaches of the Rakers mountain range, in the peaks
between the Troll Fens and the Timberway Forest, a small angular fortress
was nestled within a particular mountainside.  It hadn't been built along
the steep slope so much as carved out of the solid rock itself; resting
thousands of feet above the peak's base, it was perpetually shrouded in
thick mists that cloaked it from the sight of anyone below or even on a
nearby mountain.  In this way, it offered its occupants a commanding view
and a tactically advantageous position while maintaining its anonymity.
This was the hidden citadel of Chargrim, supremely powerful evil archmage
and member of the Crimson Blades; it was his second home, intentionally
constructed far from his primary base of operations in Rauxes, capital of
Aerdy.  That had been nearly a decade ago, at which time the stronghold
in Rauxes had already existed and been manned for several years.
  For many years, the purple-robed wizard had alternated his time and his
various efforts between the two locations.  His reasons were known to him
and only him, but his more powerful, trusted servants and followers could
make a pretty good guess:  their master needed to maintain a substantial
presence in his homeland - and be able to influence things there - while
keeping certain things out of sight of the chaos in Aerdy.  If this was
indeed the case, then it stood to reason that great power and knowledge
might be secreted somewhere in the depths of this hidden citadel.  Of
course, the exact location and nature of those things were known only to
Chargrim himself.
  Wherever he was.  To those left behind to live in and guard the place,
this matter was the subject of daily speculation and discussion...for the
wizard had not returned to the hidden citadel for many years now.  Those
left in charge had waited patiently...and then continued to wait...and
then waited some more...and kept waiting as the months and then years
passed...and to this day, they still continued to wait for their master's
return.

Cleavus:  (idly cleaning a smudge from the large ruby which gleams at the
  butt of his broadsword's pommel)  We're coming up on six years.  I'm as
  loyal as anyone here, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life in
  this forsaken place.
Wanzock:  (wearily)  Understood...but you'd better hope he doesn't ever
  hear you say that.
Cleavus:  True, but he'd have to come back first.

  Cleavus was the commander of the citadel's small military force (which
numbered about threescore veteran soldiers who were basically stationed
here permanently.)  A heavyset warrior whose muscle had recently started
going soft, he was nevertheless a skilled and dangerous swordsman.  Both
his short hair and the perpetual stubble across his jaw and chin were now
more gray than brown, and the dark patches beneath his eyes betrayed his
weariness.  Still, Cleavus was a tough but fair leader - exactly the sort
needed to maintain strict discipline for a group of seasoned troops in a
remote place such as this.

Wanzock:  Careful.  With the magic he commands, you never know if he'll
  hear anything we say.
Cleavus:  (smirks)  Good.  At least then we'd know he was back, and we
  could return to some sense of normalcy.

  It had not been easy keeping the soldiers happy for more than five long
years, and had required a combination of Chargrim's seemingly bottomless
coffers (from which these two had the authority to draw funds as needed)
and the use of some creativity in the spending of that coin.  Aside from
the men being well-paid and kept busy with patrols and weapons practice,
they were also well-provisioned with fine food and drink.  That of course
required regular supply runs to nearby kingdoms or trading posts - trips
often fraught with peril, especially after the recent wars.  Indeed, the
current sixty or so soldiers here had been nearly a hundred in number
when the citadel's master had left all those years ago.  Some measure of
attrition was unavoidable, especially over such a long time; the finding
and training of new recruits was proving ever more difficult.  Those who
left posed no security concerns; to those fighting men, the cold, lonely
fort in the middle of nowhere was just an unusual (albeit well-paying)
job.  They had been led to believe that the place was an outpost put in
place to guard the area against invasions by giants - which was a viable
possibility, given the area - and they certainly had no idea that anything
extraordinary might lie in the depths of the citadel.

Cleavus:  At this rate, we won't be able to properly defend this place if
  someone ever attacks.  Not even with the magic of you and your adepts.
Wanzock:  (smiles thinly)  Don't count the wizards out...if not for them,
  the supply runs would lack any magical protection, and we wouldn't even
  have fresh food and ale...

  A rail-thin human of late middle age whose long white hair was braided
into a ponytail, Wanzock was a skilled wizard and apprentice to Chargrim
himself.  When his power had grown great enough (which happened quite a
few years ago) he'd been given leadership over the dozen lesser wizards
who lived and worked here.  In the master's absence, it had quickly if
unsurprisingly fallen to Wanzock to not only continue their training but
also keep them under control with regard to their experiments as well as
their actions.  It would have helped if Chargrim had left his subordinate
wizard some way to communicate with him during his absence - or shared
any information at all about where he was or what the Crimson Blades were
seeking - but that was not Chargrim's way.
  Along with the soldiers (whose ranks shifted over time) and the wizards
(whose ranks did not, as they were all sworn to serve Chargrim) the place
was home to a rotating group of strumpets who were kept around to make
life a little less boring.  A single, cranky old priest and a handful of
more unusual residents rounded out the population of this hidden outpost
within the Rakers.

Wanzock:  ...much less be capable of holding this fort.
Cleavus:  Which is why it's a good thing we're on the side of a mountain
  with only a single narrow, steep road leading up to our front gate.  A
  couple of commoners with bows could hold attackers at bay indefinitely.
  With the skilled bowmen we have, we can do much better.
Wanzock:  Of course, nobody's come here in all these years.  And it's been
  difficult to get news of the outside world, at least in any timely sort
  of manner.  (he sighs, at almost the exact same time as the warrior)

  Their bickering might have appeared contentious to an observer, but in
truth these two were good friends - intelligent men, each one experienced
in his profession, forced by circumstance into the teamwork that had kept
this remote fort operational and secure for the past five years and more.
Neither of them truly believed that Chargrim was ever coming back, but yet
they couldn't be _sure_, and so they had to be ready for that.  After all,
their wizardly master had (along with his companions, some of whom were
just as fearsome as him) been known to conquer kingdoms, demolish cities,
obliterate entire armies, and even challenge gods.  A five-year absence
wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility for such people.

Cleavus:  Coming up on six years, though.  And you've gotten no messages
  from him at all, by magical means?
Wanzock:  (shakes his head)  Nothing.  And all of my scrying attempts,
  which I try every so often, are fruitless.  (he frowns)  It's as if he
  left this world.
Cleavus:  Well, he - they - just might have.  I mean, they've done that
  before.  (he pauses)  Haven't they?
Wanzock:  Indeed they have.  And that would certainly defy my scrying
  magic, such as it is.  Believe me, if I had a way to confirm that they
  were on another plane, I would have done so by now.
Cleavus:  Damn.  (he peers over the chest-high stone wall, into the mists
  that hide the site from the view of anyone below)

  The remote citadel was built into the steep mountainside, roughly three
thousand feet above ground level, and was far smaller than Chargrim's
more prominent stronghold in Rauxes.  Viewed from the outside, this place
had a simple profile:





           to top of mountain
             (~6000' above)

                    ^
                    |
                  __|__


              \
               \
                \
                 \                  |__ = 20'
                  \
                   |
 3            ____ |            <-- ledge with w/Cleavus, Wanzock talking
 2        ________  \
 1      ____________ #_         <-- gate & entry into citadel
 B    __    ______     \        <-- winding road downhill begins
 S  ______              \
                         \
                          \
                           \

                  _____
                    |
                    |
                    V

            to base of mountain
               (~3000' below)





  This outer face of the mountainside fort was thus just eighty feet high
and perhaps fifty feet wide.  Aside from the main entrance and the short
patio outside it (accessed by the roadway from below) there was just the
one small door behind the narrow walkway where the two stood talking.  A
pair of sentries also patrolled this ledge; both were skilled archers who
could take down a moving bird at an impressive distance.  These guards
regularly changed with other pairs to ensure fresh eyes and a general
lack of boredom, but there were also magical methods to guard this place
and alert its occupants if anyone approached by land or air.
  Beyond the thick barred gate and the massive iron-banded doors behind
it, the citadel's interior consisted of five levels, all of these spaces
substantially wider than the fifty-foot exterior face.  The entry floor
had a great hall, a few chambers for guests, a number of storage spaces,
and multiple wells that tapped into a large reservoir of clean water in
the heart of the mountain deep below.  It also contained a stable-like
area for the small herd (or perhaps more accurately, fleet) of magical
stone horses and mules, and the wagons that they sometimes pulled.  The
creation of these artificial animals - which never needed food, water,
or rest - had been one of Chargrim's few non-aggressive successes with
magical research and experimentation.
  The second level, just above the main one, served as quarters for the
citadel's soldiers and storage for their weapons, armor, and supplies.
A third, much smaller floor above housed the rotating groups of sentries
when they weren't on duty.  Below the primary floor was a basement level
which housed the dozen wizards under Wanzock's command.  Like the main
level, all of these other floors had multiple narrow shafts connecting
to the outside, for ventilation.
  Finally, a separate, even lower sub-basement, to which only Chargrim
had access, held whatever unknown things the wizard had seen fit to put
there.  This level's very existence was known only to a very few of the
citadel's personnel, and reaching it was impossible by conventional means
since it was blocked by (and concealed behind) a thick stone wall.  Past
this barrier, the actual entry down to the sub-basement was made via a
thick door of some otherworldly wood banded with black iron.  This stout
portal was thoroughly secured and warded by enchantments of great power;
even Wanzock would have been unable to defeat them, had he dared to try.
To even get that chance and approach the door, though, one would first
have to defeat the iron golem that was stationed right in front of it.
This unusually wide and heavy automaton obeyed no one but Chargrim, and
had orders to destroy anyone who came too close to the door.  Fortunately
(for them) nobody had yet done so...and thus the iron golem hadn't moved
in more than five years, its dull gray form now covered in a thick layer
of dust...and the contents of the sub-basement remained a total mystery
to those who guarded and maintained the modest fort above; the same fear
that kept them all from deserting the citadel also prevented them from
plundering its innermost depths and secrets.  Wanzock did know that the
forbidden level held something powerful, for faint but potent traces of
magical energy emanated from below.  However, neither he nor any of the
few wizards in the complex who could also sense these auras could defeat
the magic of the door leading down there....and none dared risk their
master's wrath by making the attempt.  Indeed, one of Wanzock's primary
jobs these days was quietly making sure that none of the wizards under
his command did or learned anything having to do with accessing or even
attempting to access that forbidden sub-level.

  Such was the state of things at Chargrim's hidden citadel on this cold
morning, a morning like any other...until suddenly it wasn't.

Wanzock:  (abruptly frowns in mid-conversation)  Hmm.  (a small, magical
  bird of shimmering green energy appears near his head, chirping strange
  sounds into his ear)
Cleavus:  Eh?
Wanzock:  (holds up a hand as he listens to the thing for a few moments,
  after which it vanishes into thin air)
Cleavus:  What is it?
Wanzock:  We have visitors on the road from below.  They do not appear
  to be making any attempt whatsoever at stealth, and they are moving
  quite slowly, but still...they are visitors.  Visitors to a place that
  typically does not receive visitors.  (they exchange concerned glances)

  The citadel's occupants were quickly mobilized to defensive positions.
Bowmen lined the ledge that looked over the entryway and the road that
led up to it; these were augmented by a number of wizards who stood ready
to unleash magical attacks alongside the archers' arrows.  Another force
waited just inside the huge banded doors, should they be breached.  Aside
from a score of warriors and a handful of wizards, this group included a
pair of stone golems and their handlers - men who had been specially
trained and empowered to command the powerful constructs.  With these two
dedicated individuals actively controlling the golems, the things could
be much more effectively utilized in battle.
  While all of this happened in a fast and efficient manner, the magical
alarm-spell's trigger was quite a distance down the winding pathway.  In
theory, the defenders had plenty of time to prepare, even if whoever was
coming had been riding hard.  But they weren't riding hard; as a matter
of fact, they weren't even riding at all.  About two dozen in total, this
morning's visitors moved up the road at a leisurely pace, as if they had
all the time in the world.  They varied widely in species and appearance;
some were obviously warriors, others were clearly wizards, and right in
the center of their ranks towered a massive form...a golem of bluish-gray
metal.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+                                                                         +
+   Alindyar       18th level dark elven wizard, illusionist              +
+   Belphanior     18th/18th/18th level elven fighter/wizard/thief        +
+     Hope           16th level female human wizard                       +
+       Poulos        8th level human warrior                             +
+     Irina          14th/7th level female human priestess/warrior        +
+     Neera          12th level female human wizard (sage/savant)         +
+     Otto           12th/14th level dwarven fighter/thief                +
+       Adolphus       10th level half-ogre warrior                       +
+       Damien         small, renegade imp                                +
+       Peyton         11th level gnome thief                             +
+       Rogar          10th level human priest of Olidammara              +
+       Sylus           8th/10th level  dark elf warrior/thief            +
+       Wembly         10th level human wizard                            +
+     Paige          13th level human female warrior                      +
+     Razor Charlie  12th level human fighter                             +
+     Skektek        14th level human wizard                              +
+     Ys             14th level reptilian fighter                         +
+   Lyra           14th level female drow wizard, invoker/evoker          +
+   Pallin         18th level grey elven wizard, teleporter               +
+     Socrates     large albino hound                                     +
+     Talos        adamantine golem                                       +
+   Parekh         18th level female human wizard, innovator              +
+     Drak         15th level human barbarian                             +
+                                                                         +
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Cleavus:  Well, fuck.
Wanzock:  (watching this group draw nearer, although they are still more
  than two hundred feet away, at the upper end of the roadway before it
  opens to the flat patio outside the citadel's gate and double doors)
  I daresay they mean business.
Cleavus:  No doubt.  And they haven't given the designated signal that
  would be known to anyone sent by our missing boss.  (he absently rests
  one hand on his sword's pommel)  So...how much closer are we going to
  let them get before we attack?





next:        the fate of the hidden citadel
map:         http://www.peldor.com/world/atlas/Bright-Desert_1203.jpg
www:         http://www.peldor.com/download.html
homepage:    http://www.peldor.com/
email:       tmiller@peldor.com
released:    7/31/2026
notes:       So the rough timeline here, from the point of view of the
  deceased Chargrim and his henchpeople, looks like this:

  (572 C.Y.)      rough date of construction of main citadel in Rauxes
  (577 C.Y.)      rough date of construction of hidden citadel in Rakers
  (3/579 C.Y.)    main citadel is operational and churning out evil
  (7/581 C.Y.)    Crimson Blades go to Center of Time, do not return
  (582-584 C.Y.)  Greyhawk Wars
  (4/587 C.Y.)    present time

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