The party backtracks a bit to do some things before entering the Shimmering Veils of Pride. Fyn handles the dragon turtle while copying a bunch of spells into his spellbook. This is a much-needed exercise.
Meanwhile, Fobias does his best to neutralize the poison in Barnaby. Unfortunately, the poison bursts from the halfling’s arm, nearly knocking him unconscious and dealing some Charisma damage. The extra rest is appreciated after that outburst, for sure.
Finally, we’re back to the hall of mirrors where Barnaby felt invigorated with Pride. As he looks into the mirror, he sees that his reflection is perfectly identical to him. Well, almost identical.
His reflection is wearing a rectangular, bronze pin. It shows a series of shields, split in half, duplicated across three rows and four columns. There isn’t a shield in the second column, second row, however. Instead, there is a closed fist with a starburst radiating from behind it.
Suddenly, Barnaby’s mind goes dark as his memory gets triggered by this pin.
An Errant Carriage
Clackety-clack, clackety-clack, clackety-clack.
Pale moonlight shines in through the parted curtains of a stagecoach. The velveteen interior speaks of opulence, as does the finery of its riders. The clacking of the wheels is accompanied by the thunderous pounding of hooves as the horses pulling the carriage continue towards their destination.
Shadows from the wooded canopy above cross Barnaby’s face. His gorgeous blonde mustache gleams, almost white, as he smiles at the fair-skinned woman sitting across from him.
“We’re almost there, my dear. Once we arrive in Castle Everstand, Captain Arald Gauntwood will make us soon forget the unsettling nature of this accursed forest.”
The woman smiles and her worried expression seems to soften.
“I know, it’s just that the Fangwood has all of those stories. Lady Garanthee was telling me about these fey that can change their shape, becoming anything they desire. They coax you in, tricking you, before slicing your throat and eating your liver!”
She pulls back the curtain to reveal the dark underbrush alongside the road.
“What if they try to impersonate you? What if I’m fooled? What if…” Her eyes get wide. “What if…they already got to you!?” She pushes herself back into the corner of the seat, beginning to tremble.
Clackety-clack, clackety-clack, clackety-clack.
“My dear Adriella, you don’t honestly think that some sort of fey delinquent would be able to outwit, outsmart, and out-duel me, do you? Come now.”
Barnaby holds out his hand to console the woman.
For the Hordes
Just then, the carriage passes over a particularly treacherous pothole, sending its occupants sprawling to the floor. As Barnaby helps Adriella back to her seat, the horses whinny and a gruff shout comes from the driver. It’s quickly followed by the thud of something embedding itself in the wooden frame of the carriage.
“What was that?!”
The carriage begins to slow, but it continues to rock incessantly. The horses are obviously startled and distressed. Eventually, it comes to a halt.
“Good driver! Sir! Is everything all right? Why have we stopped?”
There is a second thud near to where the first occurred. There is no response from the driver.
Adriella lets out a shriek.
“Now, now. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just a bit of wind or tree blown over the road. The good man might have dozed off even! Don’t tell him I said so, but he is rather old and becoming more senile with every passing moment. Running this blasted carriage back and forth every single day…hell! I’d probably fall asleep too! I’ll be but a moment, my dear. Just relax.”
Adriella smiles weakly, her face a stark, ashen gray. Barnaby unlatches the door and steps out onto the road, closing the door behind him.
Outside, the carriage’s twin torches provide the only light. Everything else is masked in darkness. As Barnaby passes underneath them, the light catches on a small, bronze, rectangular pin on his lapel. The halfling walks confidently towards the front of the carriage where the horses are stamping their feet anxiously, steam billowing from their nostrils.
“Driver, my dear friend, why have we -”
Barnaby stops, staring at the slumped over body on the seat. Two arrows protrude from the lifeless body – one from the forehead and the other from his chest. It appears as though the arrows are the only things keeping the driver’s body from falling from its perch onto the softened road.
Barnaby instinctively draws his scimitar, looking around wildly. As the torches flicker, every shadow appears to be a threat. His breath condensates in the cold silence.
“Show yourselves, devilish fiends. This is a friendly carriage, and I daresay that you’ve slain an impeccable man. Someone on the forefront of truly driving change in the carriage industry. And, I might add, he’s connected to wealthy and powerful friends. You’ve just handed yourself a death sentence, and I’m here to carry out the deed. For I am Barnaby Daryngton, Hand of the Watcher-Lord of Lastwall, and I dare you to beat me in a scuffle!”
His challenge is met with silence, save the whispering of the trees.
Barnaby stands there, perplexed. A small bead of sweat forms across his temple, but he urges the temptation to brush it away.
Suddenly, he whips around and CLANG! His blade connects with the curved sword of a huge orc.
Graaaghghhhhh! The orc bellows and several others come out from the cover of the trees. Barnaby begins to move quickly, ducking out of swings and delivering blows right back. He jumps up onto the carriage, using the high ground to his advantage as he tries to stave off the orcish ambush.
“Time to put these ruffians to rest!” Barnaby shouts. “Good thing I’m alone. These fools are unlucky that I didn’t stay within this carriage with the doors locked no matter what!”
The orcs converge.
A Visitor in the Dark
As the sounds of battle and clanging steel commence, Adriella huddles in the corner, whimpering.
“No, no, no…this can’t be. Please take care of them Barnaby. Please.”
The latch of the door pops up.
“Eep!”
The door slowly swings open, revealing a tall, slender man with pale skin, mottled with reddish charcoal-colored markings. His short white hair curls, obscuring his face. He wears a wide smile. The figure is sharply dressed in a black suit, embroidered with curvy lines in heavy thread.
“There, there, Adriella. No need to be alarmed.”
The man steps into the carriage and Adriella backs up further into the corner. She looks up and grabs a dagger that had been resting above the opposite door frame.
“Oh come now. That won’t be necessary.”
As the man sits down, he quickly disarms the woman, tossing the dagger outside before closing the door.
“Let’s have a quaint conversation shall we? Like civilized folk.” He holds up a long finger to his mouth. “But this will be a conversation where I do the talking, and you do the listening. Speak when spoken to, or else…”
The man drops his finger and slowly slides it across his throat.
Tears begin to form in Adriella’s soft, blue eyes.
“Good. It appears we have an accord.”
The man sits back and crosses one leg over the other as if getting comfortable.
“So this is what Lastwallian finery looks like. I’ll be honest, I was expecting something a bit more…genuine.” We can hear Barnaby’s grunts of exertion through the padded carriage walls.
“You’d think the Hand of the Watcher-Lord would be afforded anything his little heart desired. No expense spared and all that. Don’t you find it odd?”
Adriella keeps her lips pursed, silent tears flowing from her eyes.
“You don’t find it odd,” the man continues, “that this man you’re traveling with never seems to take you within the castle proper? That you’ve never attended a lavish ball, a knighting ceremony, or really anything remotely public at all. You don’t find it odd, Adriella, that nobody seems to recognize him, despite the highness of his elevated station. He’s the Hand to the Watcher-Lord of Lastwall for fuck’s sake.” He raises out of his chair. “Don’t you find it ODD?”
Poetry in Motion
As the man raises his voice, Adriella shrinks away. She shakes her head.
The man seems to catch himself for a moment and sits back down.
“Oh forgive me. I’m dreadfully sorry. I’ve really dampened the mood now, haven’t I? Let me make it right, with a little rhyme that’s been frolicking across my mind.”
“Barnaby Daryngton
Body toned
Daring doo and daring don’t
Ran his mouth
And told his lies
So salty tears
Pour from his eyes
He has three hands,
But two are his
The third is but
A counterfeit
He swings his sword
At orcs outside
One errant step
And ope. He’s died.”
“There. Wasn’t that lovely?”
Adriella gives a slight nod, still trembling.
“It is customary to applaud such a performance. You don’t want to break custom, now, do you?”
She reluctantly puts her hands together in a half-hearted clapping motion.
“It’ll do. Adriella. He’s a fraud. Living on a reputation built on lies. Nobody likes being lied to. Me least of all. Smile, my dear, if I’m correct in my assumption.”
Adriella forces herself to form the semblance of a smile.
“Yes. He leeches off the hard work of others, draining everything he touches. He is a leech, siphoning off whatever fame and reputation his charm can manage before he slithers away to another host. He takes from others, so I will return the favor, and graciously take from him.”
Light of my Life
There’s another thud, like a heavy body hitting the side of the carriage.
“Sigh. Listen to him out there. Hacking and slashing. Whacking and bashing. That’s the real shame; people never kill people with panache anymore.”
“Adriella. I’m sure you’re a wonderful person. But I’m afraid that you’ve already had more breaths than I can possibly allow. There’s just no way around it. See what I mean?”
The man points to the embroidery on his jacket, and as we look closer we can see that the lines, although seemingly random designs, are actually more like signatures. They’re names.
We follow the man’s finger towards the lines he’s pointing at.
Adriella von Fretterling.
She lets out a whimper.
“It was quite lovely to have met you, Adriella. Goodbye.”
The man steps back outside the carriage, smiling wide. He gives a brief bow before closing the door. After the door closes, Adriella rushes to the other door and tries to open it, but it’s locked tight. She jiggles the handle forcefully and tries to unlock it, but it won’t budge.
Outside, Barnaby’s chest heaves up and down. Four orc bodies lie around him in various degrees of amputation. His eye is already beginning to turn purple, and part of his front coat has been sliced clean off, medals and all.
He bends down to wipe the blade in the grass, taking a moment to catch his breath. As he’s bent over, he sees his shadow begin to lengthen. He pauses before hearing a faint crackling.
“Barnaby!”
“Adreilla!”
He springs up and turns to the carriage. It’s completely ablaze in violent flame. Barnaby rushes over to the door.
“Adriella! Adriella! I’m here, I’ll get you out of there!”
Her screams are all but drowned out by the flames as Barnaby tries to pull the door open. Part of his shirt catches fire but he ignores it, trying to unjam the door. He tries using his sword to pry it but it’s no use. It’s stuck.
Barnaby begins to hack away at the carriage, splintering wood but hardly making significant progress. It isn’t long before the flames become too much, he backs away, and the screaming stops.
Barnaby drops to his knees and stares at the carnage before him, flames dancing in the reflection of a discarded Lastwallian dagger. Off in the distance, deep in the shadows, we see a smartly dressed man. Smiling.
Blackout.
Hall of Mirrors
As Barnaby looks down the hall, he sees that mirrors completely line the two directions the party could go in. When he steps into the intersection, however, his reflections on either end of the hallway step out of the mirrors and attack!
It turns out that one Barnaby is a lot to handle, but two Barnabys? Leave me out of it!
The Barnaby clones do some major damage as they charge up to the real one. Barnaby does his best to return the blows, but he’s caught off guard and can’t seem to get a blade in edgewise.
Fobias, thinking it best to help his friend, steps into the hallway to attack one of the Barnaby clones. As he does, however, two Fobias clones step out of the mirrors. Suddenly, it’s six on four and the smiles quickly begin to fade. The Fobias clones unleash their fury on the half-orc, effectively blocking him off from the group.
The wizard thinks on his feet, creating mirror images of himself and casting displacement on Barnaby. Fyn also tries to slow down the clones, but the players built their characters too well! The spell fades without any effect. He almost steps into the hallway, but catches himself early. Would more reflections have been created?
Trace and Fyn position themselves on the edge of the hallway, trying to provide a natural barrier if Barnaby and Fobias can get back behind them. Surrounded, Barnaby makes a last-ditch attack before retreating back. His first swing is parried back at him, lowering his hit points substantially. Another backswing comes at him, and Barnaby burns a bottlecap on the displacement roll.
It’s a 50% chance of death and a 100% chance of fun.
Barnaby lives!
Saving Private Fobias
The party isn’t out of the woods yet. Fobias is still trapped in the hallway as Krask provides his usual barrage of cover fire. One of the Barnaby clones goes down, but with the threat of two full-round attack actions, Fobias needs to get out of there.
The half-orc turns to Fyn, telling him to take care of Richard. Fobias’ journey seems to be at an end. Fyn responds, telling him to take care of Richard himself. Because, in that moment, Fyn casts Greater Invisibility on Fobias. Poof! Safe at last!
Unable to see Fobias anymore, the Fobias clones turn to Fyn and Trace. They have no trouble at all dealing massive damage. Fobias strikes back from the cover of his invisibility, still flirting with death.
That’s when Fyn pulls all the stops and casts Chain Lightning at the clones. Down goes one of the Fobias duplicates, but two are still standing. And they’re thirsty for blood.
How many duplicates are in the Shimmering Veils of Pride? Will the party find Vraxeris in this wing? How do the players keep track of all their abilities? It’s exhausting!