Darrak Canaglym, Griffon Rider

The next couple days travel were uneventful as the party traveled south to Dragonspear on the way to Candlekeep. On the third day, as Ironica was scouting ahead, she came upon a wounded griffon, wallowing amidst a party of slain Red Tusk. She called her companions to come check it out. 

The thing was fierce and menacing, a wounded wing preventing it from flying, but Rya and Dala'gse looked for any healing remedies they could find, and Dala'gse approached the beast with a mix of nature magic and learned animal handling. The griffon calmed when the healing spells washed of it, and it introduced itself as *talon* to Dala'gse who had managed to communicate with it. Ironica looted the corpses of the dead, finding some unsoured Dun-kan jugs. 

*Talon* asked where they were headed and suggested that now it could fly, it could take them there. Dala'gse said his companions were all traveling to Dragonspear. All of you? *Talon* wondered, then I should get my children to help. 

An hour later *Talon* flew back with three juvenile griffons. The party climbed atop -- three on *Talon* and one each on the little ones. They party set off for Dragonspear, riding high above the Moor and making great speed atop their new mounts. 

In another day, they could see the many spires of Dragonspear rising out of the landscape just Southwest of the Moor. As they approached a few of the party wondered aloud whether it would be better to enter through the front gate. We don't know anything about this place, they may not take kindly to six heavily armed (though notably magical item-lacking) adventurers invading the castle from high above the walls. Words that were lost on the wind, it seemed. 

Dala'gse, with Falka and Rya aboard, indicated *Talon* should land on the highest of the spires, a central tower that rose prominently out of what seemed to the the main keep of Dragonspear. That would do, they thought. Safad, Slothrop, and Ironica's griffons settled for the second highest spire. 

As they crossed over the walls, they heard cries of alarm from below and shouting in dangerous tones from heavily armed guards. The noise was somewhat drowned out by the awful scratching of *Talon*'s talons on the slate tile roof of the tower's spire. Either that, or Dala'gse and Falka pretended not to hear. But Rya heard. She rolled off *Talon* and her companions' stomach's lurched as she spilled over the side of the tower into a empty sky and an impossible fall to the ground. But Rya remained calm and cast her favorite Misty Step, disappearing from the free fall and reappearing in a burst of fog at the entrance to the keep, in front of what appeared to be the guards in charge. 

Their hackles were raised, but Rya's charm put them at ease. She explained she and her companions were looking to spend the evening and enjoy the Greengrass festival before setting out for Candlekeep. The guard introduced himself as Ems Gallton, and he was flustered but thanked her for coming to greet them but insisted her companions--Falka and Dala'gse now dismounted on the top of the spire--needed to come down and once and register their name with the guard. There were protocols to follow and it involved checking in at the main gate, not landing a griffon on Lady Starboard's tower. 

Rya apologized on behalf of the party and told them the names of her companions. She said they were there on invitation of the Earl of Farthington, and were guests of his. Guests of the EF, the guard wondered, and raised his eyebrows. The guard watched as *Talon* kicked off, pushing a few tiles loose--one landing on a passing citizen. Rya grimaced. They could make out the shapes of Falka and Dala'gse helping one another over the top of the spire and into an open window of the keep. Oh my. Guests of the EF. Well, he lived in Tower Nine, and indicated it was in the southwest of the castle. 

Ironica thought she'd have some fun before letting her griffon off to see *Talon*. She had it swoop down toward the market on the way to Tower Nine, and somersaulted off the back of the beast, landing gracefully atop the shoulders of a passing Red Tusk. The Red Tusk was insulted and tried to throw her to the ground, but she was too nimble. A small crowd formed. Just as a fight was about to break out, the Red Tusk charging at her, he noticed the jug of Dun-kan attached to her belt. 

He stopped.

Dun-kan!

Ironica smiled. Said it was from a Red Tusk friend of hers. He said his name was Bo-rep, and she must meet him at Brass Tacks tavern that night to share Dun-kan, none of this Nessguin beer weak brew they drink here, but Dun-kan! He clapped her on the back, yelling Dun-kan at passerbys as he went. 

Safad, Slothrop, and Rya joined Ironica at the tower of the EF.  On their way, they noticed the castle was still undergoing some serious reconstruction. It looked as though almost all of it had been rebuild in phases over the past thirty some odd years -- and very much nearing completion. 

They introduced themselves and Safad presented Whudry's letter to the majordomo. The man looked skeptical, and appraised their filthy travel clothes wearily. He read the letter in front of them and they caught the hint of a knowing smile when he read the name at the bottom, "Whudry." 

He led them into the tower and into a waiting room. Shortly thereafter, a large man decorated in a breastplate and other finery, introduced himself as Chev Arget, the Earl of Farthington, and father to their "friend" Whudry. Whudry, Whudry, Whudry. 

The EF said the group had put him in a delicate situation, flying in like that and claiming they were his guests, but the laws of hospitality dictated that he dine them tonight and the price of their plates would be the story of aiding his errant son. That is, if dinner weren't cancelled because his Earlship ended once Lady Starboard found out about this whole business. Well, he admonished, just keep a low profile and we should be OK. If you must go out, stick to the Red Dragon Inn. Avoid the Brass Tacks at all costs. But please, just stay inside. 

Meanwhile...not keeping a low profile, were Falka and Dala'gse, who terrified an attendant cleaning out the top of Lady Starboard's tower. They sent him running as they inspected the carpet, the paintings. Not too shabby, they thought. They descended the spiral staircase and entered another, more finished chamber. This one arranged with a few chairs and a beautiful view out a wrap-around window. The rug was one of the finest from Silverymoon, Dala'gse surmised by the pile, dyeing, and threading. 

On a table besides the chairs were two decanters. One filled with an inviting amber liquid that seems to swirl about a bit. The other the color of a dull headache. The decanters themselves looked quite valuable. They recognized the spirits as Dwarven Firewine and a moonshine called Pigswill. The firewine alone should be worth around 175gp for that volume, and the decanter another 25gp. They made themselves at home. 

Falka, then Dala'gse took a sip of the firewine, their legs kicked out in front of them, muscles sore, unaccustomed to griffon-riding. 

When the liquid hit their mouths, it started of vague then blossomed with delicate flavor and nuance. There was a funky earthiness, and then a strange, fiery effervescence that filled their nose, in a pleasant way. It was a multi-sensory experience. 

Just then, Ems Galton, captain of the guard, burst into the room. 

"What the devils are ya doing? Lady Starboard is going to be furious!" 

"We're waiting to meet this Lady Starboard and talk to her about regional affairs," Falka remarked calmly, taking another sip of wine. "Is she aware, for example, that a town a few tenday from here is in reality a mind-flayer controlled front?" 

Ems was confused. Then realization dawned on him. They were cursed, they were crazy, mad! He could help, priests of Torm would know what to do! 

"Let's just, err--get you two out of here. There, there, don't worry about the sad town. Come with the nice man and we'll get you help," Ems chided reassuringly. 

But it was too late, they heard yelling and heavy booted scuffing of footsteps on the stairwell below. 

"Torm save me, I'm going to get it now." Ems genuflected, reverently. 

Not a minute later, a battle-scarred dwarf woman, with an attractive bit of wild auburn beard emerging from her jowls, strolled calmly into the room, looking like she owned the place. She did, in fact, own the place, turns out.

"I'm Sheena Starboard, ruler of Dragonspear. Who the hell are you?" She looked angry, but amused almost. "Another glass of firewine, perhaps? I prefer the pigswill myself," she poured herself a glass. 

Falka and Dala'gse put down their hostess's expensive wine and stood boldly before her. "We're from a town called Old Weir that was taken over by mind flayers. We were enthralled for twenty five years and are looking to kill the sonofabitch monarch who did this to us. Jeremius Mason. You know him?" 

Lady Starboard spit up some of her pigswill. "This is great! First, I get word that a band of griffon riders have invaded my castle, now I learn that not only do they favor expensive dwarven spirits, they are court jesters full of tall tales! Welcome, welcome."

Falka's eyes narrowed. 

Dala'gse looked at the woman curiously. 

Ems Galton stepped from one foot to the other. 

Lady Starboard folded her arms across her ample chest. 

"You're quite serious, then," the ruler of Dragonspear asked.

"Quite," Falka replied, coldly. "And do you always look down so haughtily on those looking for help?"

She had struck a nerve with Lady Starboard, whose eyes softened, and she gestured for them all to sit down. 

"Ems, it's all right, go enjoy a Nessguin. Look, you two have broken every protocol we have--" 

"And severely wounded a townsperson with a falling tile!" Ems interjected

"--but I'm no stranger to being told I'm a fool telling tall tales. I spent years gathering allies to help in my campaign to reclaim this place, my clan's ancestral homeland. My name's not even Starboard, it's Canaglym, but Starboard reminds me of my failure to our family--of dereliction in my charge--and the promise that I would never let it happen again. You know how many times I was laughed at? Told I was making up stories? Too many to count. And here you with that same look in your eye I had those many years ago. I'd be insulting my younger self to send you away. So, tell me, then what's going on in Old Weir? Barely heard of that backwater." 

Before Falka could continue, Dala'gse asked quietly, "What happened to your family? We recently failed in our charge of safekeeping too," Heathayla still fresh on his mind. 

"Well, it's a story for another day, but in our exile, my family was sailing and were beset by a terrible storm. Blown way off course. My baby brother was on the starboard side of the ship and I was meant to look after him. But the ship was rolling too heavily. I couldn't make it to him before we we capsized. It was around 50 years ago at this point. I took the name Starboard to never forget my brother."

Falka watched as something changed in Dala'gse when Lady Starboard was telling her story. His eyes lit with a weird purple glow and a moment of panic crossed his face, then an odd comfort--recognition almost. 

Falka looked from dwarf to dwarf. Wild auburn hair to wild auburn hair. Both sitting in a curiously similar way...

"I was once in a bad storm on a boat," Dala'gse offered. His voice was thin, almost scared at the memory. 

"It was the last I saw of my family. I was a baby and only remember a bad storm and then the ocean or the sky opened up with a terrible purple--" he couldn't finished before Lady Starboard joined him.

"--a terrible purple light."

The room was silent as the dwarves looked at each other.

"Darrak?"

A deluge of memories flooded Dala'gse's mind, he could see the same scene, he remembered the kind face of his sister looking down at him. Of his parents, quieting him to sleep on the violently rocking boat. They were singing to him. Darrak...Darrak...Darrak...yes, that was his name. Darrak.

Falka and Ems looked at each other, looked at the dwarves who they now realized were the spitting image of each other, and watched as Lady Starboard wrapped her brother in a tight embrace. 

She was crying into Dala'gse's wild fey hair. "Darrak, it's me, I'm your sister Sheena. What happened, I'm so sorry! What happened to you! We thought--you were gone, you were drowned, oh my, Darrak, I'm so sorry. I can't believe..." 

Dala'gse hugged his sister, and felt home, felt liked he belonged, for the first time in his remembered life.

After the siblings traded stories and caught up, Sheena wiping the tears from her eyes, told her brother and Falka, "What you say about Old Weir and Innesbyr and Jeremius Mason is hard to swallow. But know this--you have Dragonspear behind you. We are with you, and will support you in any way we can. And you are welcome in my castle, in my home. Tonight, we will dine with your companions in my hall, with the EF as well."

Dala'gse could have sworn even Falka had a tear in her eye. "It's my bleeding again, dwarf. It's nothing," she sniffled. 

Back at the EF's tower, Safad was exploring when the manservant approached him and said there was a fellow Calamshani in the astronomy tower who would be delighted to make his acquaintance.

Safad climbed the steps of the tower and at the top found a well-appointed room, lined with bookshelves and a writing desk. Back to him, was an elderly gentleman, fixing some sort of drink. 

"I am Iago Willsunc. I thought I'd take the liberty of mixes us up some Calim Juniper Water with an olive," the man turned and offered Safad the drink. 

Safad accepted graciously, and introduced himself. The two spent the afternoon talking. Iago had a minor illusion going in the background of a vocalist singing, with just he power of her voice filling the space with robust song. 

Willsunc recognized Safad as a Kulis, and said he knew of his uncle. Legend was the Kulius descended from the desert itself. Safad smiled. He told the avuncular calimshani about their plans to travel to Candlekeep to research the goddess Arumbelle. Willsunc told him he recalled the goddess but did not know much about her. He advised Safad to check in at the temple of Torm, they may know more. After they had played an old Calamshani game called pont,and grown closer in their recollections of their homeland, Iago handed Safad a book. 

"It's a history of legal frameworks in Calimshan. I wrote it. The cost of admission to Candlekeep is a work of writing that they do not possess in their grounds. Often a hard feat to achieve, but this may do."

Safad was being called to dinner, but thanked Willsunc, and bid him farewell. 

As he returned to the party, an entourage of well-armed guards approached the EF's tower, saying they needed to speak to the EF immediately. Nervously, Chev Arget confronted the guards, looking daggers at the party, his "guests", as he passed them in the hallway. 

"You are invited to dine with Safad Kulius, Ironica of the Shigatsu, Slothrop of Nowhere, Rya Rezna of Old Weir, tonight in the chambers of Lady Canaglym. Please dress in your finest, all protocols will be observed." The guards announced. They turn briskly on their heels and left. 

The EF looked relieved, and wondered at the change in name--Lady Starboard was now going by Canaglym, it seemed. 

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