So the lady told me another story. On the western side of Minn’s Teeth a group of smaller kingdoms and city states banded together to protect their interests and defend the mountain range. The alliance called itself the Teeth’s Guard and consisted of delegations that include the Dwarves, Dragonborn, Dr’oban, Halfling and Goliath peoples. I saw her tale from the eyes of the Dro’ban. He was… kind of a prissy little thing.
Now this group was heading east to Highbreeze for the coronation of Petrus of Marey the first. Ha. Mary’s Peter. The House of Marey was looking to curry some favor with the other kingdoms of the continent and were convinced by this jerky tool Farrellu of Conton, the lawkeeper of Highbreeze, to invite each kingdom to send a delegation to the event.
In response to the invitation the Alliance each sent someone such that the delegation consisted of both diplomats and security forces, except the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn, in a move most curious asked the delegation to make contact with the son of an Elder on the Dragonborn Council who was last known to be residing within Highbreeze proper. After making contact they were to ensure that he attended the coronation as the official representative of the Dragonborn Council, and then bring him home to ascend to his ailing father’s position on the Council.
As the Delegation made it to the city it was decided that the first order of business would be to follow the leads they uncovered in finding “Molt” who was rumored to be spend far too much time in a Dwarven Tavern. And this tavern was freaking amazing. On the outside it looked like it was carved out of and into a giant boulder, almost a miniature mountain. The inside was so Dwarven you could almost smell the beard oil and all it was missing the sound of someone hammering on a forge in the corner.
Upon arrival at the tavern, several of the delegates made contact with Molt. After a few drinks, they attempted to convince the wayward Dragonborn to join them for the coronation which erupted into a brawl that spilled out into the streets of Highbreeze. That said, you need to understand that Molt was a disgusting being. In everything I saw of him he puke or pissed or soiled himself whenever and wherever he happened to be. And he was brash and abrasive just gross. But nobility I guess so whatever.
After a short scuffle in the streets, the group was able to subdue Molt and as luck would have it, this made me like them more too, the Highbreeze guard came to intervene.
The guards were convinced to send them on their way, showing the how to get to the entrance to the High House District of the city. With little regard for how to behave themselves in proper company in the city, several of the delegates openly made a joke about how they were not there to assassinate the new king. The guards, rightly so and unsure of how to take it, did not take the joke the way it was intended.
The High House District was accessed by means of this platform that was raised and lowered by means of some magick. The district itself opened up before the party and the sights and sounds and wonderment surrounding them caught most of them by surprise and despite the guards desires and attempts to promptly escort the group to the house of Conton the party took in the truly awe inspiring view from the High House District.
On arriving at the house of Conton, the delegates were introduced to the Lawkeeper Ferellus, the Half Elf head of the house of Conton, and ushered into a great reception. Ok, so this guy, this guy here was the same guy who sprung us from jail in Dillard. He looked the same. Same robe, same ears, same face. I’d remember that asshole anywhere. Now if this was truly at the time of the Coronation of Petrus the first, then this was at least a couple hundred years ago. And this guy looked exactly the same, which was more than a little troubling.
Once in the reception proper, a reception that appeared to be held in their honor, which given their low stature in the grand scheme of the world proper, small talk was made. Soon after, the son of Ferellus, Roget, infamous playboy and erstwhile vagabond made his way into the reception and for the first time since he agreed to join the delegation Molt seemed at ease, conversing with his old friend and fellow reveler. I think they totally banged.
Roget begged the party to join him in the spa in the rear courtyard of the Conton Property later in the evening.
One of the Dwarves in the party spent his time using his gifts to investigate the area. Also, he flicked his nipples a lot. Like a lot, a lot. Like ladies get paid to let you flick their nipples this much a lot. Also his nipples smoked. It was weird. Also, he was drinking almost non-stop when he wasn’t flicking his nipples. I bet he knew how to have some fun.
Finding what appeared to be Ferellus’ personal study, he found that the primary knowledge kept in the study related to the many forms of magic found throughout the realm and in the process stumbled across a small hidden alcove that appeared to hold the personal spellbooks from a multitude of spellcasters from throughout the realm and they didn’t know what to make of that. Someone’s personal spellbook was essentially an extension of themselves and the sheer volume of volumes present made them wonder as to the whereabouts and well-being of the owners.
As the party returned to their rooms to ready themselves for the evenings revelry, iit was discovered that many of the political delegates had been assassinated in their chambers. While inspecting some of the bodies the party was ambushed by magic wielding assassins and a battle ensued destroying rooms and setting the mansion ablaze.
For reasons that were entirely unclear to the group, a dark figure began pressing down the hallway towards the fray. As the halfling paladin began to engage (and I have to say this paladin somehow sucked at their job worse than Z), was revealed to be Ferellus himself wielding magical with incredible prowess and almost singing the refrain of “It didn’t have to go this way.”
As the battle raged on the assassins were quickly dispatched through some clever trickery and a giant sized Goliath (I think you had to be there for that to make sense). Eventually, the Dwarf with the nipple fetish and the super pris Dr’oban joined the halfling in the hallway and appeared to defeat Ferellus as he split himself into four entities, one vanishing through a hastily made portal and the other three, looking identical, falling dead to the floor.
As they were falling to the floor, the familiar sound of guard footfalls rang out in the in the hallway and they arrived just in time to see their master, dead on the floor and in triplicate. Seemed and ironic end to what I assumed was a paper pushing lawkeeper. As they were rounding up the group, I got the impression this was not the last time the lady would show me this group.