The Guards of Galdenwyck [1-2]
On the other side of the Sea of Avax, in the small fishing village of Oculan, the townspeople were gathering in the meadow above the village. They had been called there by the mad wizard, Azi Zanisi, who ruled the lands along the north shore of the Sea of Avax in the name of Chairman Taga. As the people slowly made their way from the village, their eyes could not help but be drawn to the dark tower of Azi Zanisi which stood on the rocky cliffs overlooking the sea. The top of the tower was so high it could not be seen, and only the magic of the green and yellow moons, Craon and Graephon, kept it from crashing into the murky water below.
According to protocol, Azi’s apprentice, Assamabinladin, cast a charm spell on the villagers before Azi would appear to them from his tower’s pulpit. A bright and variegated light streamed from his palms as he threw his spell components at the meadow. The villagers all failed their saving throws, and were charmed for several turns.
“Master Zanisi! Your people eagerly await your bidding!”
Assamabinladin’s familiar, a Manx cat, thrust his head squarely into the gong at the base of the tower to signal Azi’s arrival. The villagers pointed to the pulpit and cheered as he entered their collective gaze.
“Villagers of the Sea! Bow before Azi Zanisi, your eternal and gracious ruler!” Assamabinladin motioned for the villagers to bow, and they did as ordered.
“A grievous day has come to the Sea of Avax,” Azi began, “And to the Ffjords of Galdenwyck as a whole. Today, the 14 moons, our celestial guardians, have aligned! Avaximander’s critical failure has come to haunt us again, as the guardians will take their mortal form and return to Galdenwyck to reclaim their throne! Clio, the Reddened Cleric! Morimuto, the Silver Streaker! Craon and Graephon, the Citric Levitators! Cletus, Zeigdan, and Bronte, the Purple Partners in Deception! And…the other various moons.”
There was a great murmur among the people in the lea-like meadow. The return of the guards was supposed to be a terrible thing, something they heard about in phantasie songs from the bards who stopped in the village on their travels.
Assamabinladin asked for quiet and was rewarded with the hushed and awed crowd that Master Wizard Azi Zanisi required. The Master soared into the sky on his charmed roc and dove back to earth where the giant regal bird alit on a stump located in the middle of the mass of villagers. The people all turned inward and gazed upon the leader.
“My loyal people. The coming times will be hard on us all. Many may die. There will be battles. The guardians will not take the throne from Chairman Taga without much blood being shed.” No sounds escaped from the crowd as the Master let these words sink in.
“Because of this threat to our security, starting at suns-rise tomorrow, all men between the ages of 16 and 60 will report for military training. All others must begin doubling their work if we are to resist the Guardians. In addition, each household must begin paying 1 extra electrum piece per week in tax.”
The people all nodded in agreement except for one man, an old fisherman who was rumoured to have once traveled the known world as a bard of the highest university. Before either Assamabinladin or Azi Zanisi could react, the fisherman, who went by the name of Kierian, made a successful saving throw. He was charmed no more.
“Master Zanisi,” Kierian said, “Why are you sending the most productive element of our peaceful and sea-faring society to certain death? Everyone who knows the legend of the Guardians understands that their arrival portends certain doom! An entire army of the best fighters and wizards could not stand their ground against any nine of them, let alone all 14!”
“Who is this precocious worm, Assamabinladin?” Master Zanisi asked.
“The villagers know him as Kierian, Master.”
“Kierian, is it? How have you come to know of the legend of the Guardians?” Zanisi was waving his hands, preparing a powerful magic missile spell.
“I have traveled all the great regions of Galdenwyck,” Kierian said, “from Aerion to Cratuk, and from the Ffjords to Brandune. The legend is . . . .”
Zanisi cast his magic missiles at Kierian, and as the red orbs of 1D4+1 damage flew from his hands, they were immediately drawn to Kierian’s Boots of Magic Missile Absorption.
“Those are interesting boots, Kierian.”
“Yes, they come in handy when talking to maddened wizards.” [dramatic pause] “You know your only hope of defeating the Guardians is to recover Avaximander’s great spell book from the tomb of Werkingetorix, which I’m sure you’ve heard is the new home of the high vampire, Tamcruz Bradpit. And finally, an extra piece of electrum per week will hardly cover the costs of all the burials that will be required after the utter destruction of our people, let alone be enough to field an army. And once your hired swords discover their opponents to be the Guards of Galdenwyck, they will quickly leave the army and prepare for their inevitable destruction at the hands of their new masters.”
Azi Zanisi was busy looking for the spell components for a stinking cloud spell (he always kept a rotten egg somewhere in his Robe of Invisibility), but suddenly remembered that he forgot to memorize that particular spell this morning.
“Your silvern tongue,” Azi said, “and your leathern boots betray your true nature. I should have known that do-gooder Lord Carrollan would have one of his spies close by. Well, have it your way. I suggest you hurry back to your cowardly master before I send you to the 3rd plane of Hell!”
“I have lived in this village for well nigh twenty years now. I am just as much a citizen of this land as Reg, the cooper over there, or Emos, the arrowsmith, who stands behind you.”
Azi Zanisi had had enough of this Kierian but hadn’t really planned on any trouble and had not memorized any more offensive spells this day. He looked at Assamabinladin and shook his head. Assama wasn’t able to cast anything beyond a magic missle either as he wasted all his time memorizing useless illusionist spells to impress the mermaids who swam up near the shore at night.
Azi Zanisi motioned for Assama to dismiss the people, all except for Kierian, who remained behind. He stepped down from the back of his mighty rock and approached Kierian who did not shrink back from the mighty wizard.
“Very well, Kierian, the fisherman, you have won your life . . . for now.” Master Zanisi’s black eyes burned with anger. “You should consider yourself blessed I did not have any other offensive spells at my disposal today, or my anger would have cut short your existence. Also feel lucky that I have run out of darts +1.”
Kierian nodded his head toward the Master in a half-hearted bow. “I thank you for your goodwill,” he said flatly.
“Now, this spell book you speak of,” started Master Zanisi, placing his arm on Kierian’s shoulder. Are you confident you know where it is?”
“Yes, Azi Zanisi. Why?”
“If I let you live, you must go on a quest for me. Retrieve the spell book before the Guardians return and you will live out your platignum years in comfort; if not, you will die.”
Kierian laughed. “If I don’t get the spell book everyone dies.”
Azi Zanisi moved his face until it was almost touching Kierian’s face. “Let me put this another way,” he growled. “You will go on this quest or I will kill you now. I still have my slingshot +2 and some sling stones +1 handy.”
“Well, if you put it that way, I guess I’ll go.”
“Good. Assamabinladin will accompany you. You will depart tomorrow.” With that, the wizard climbed above his roc and rose into the darkening sky until he disappeared among the clouds. Kierian, watching him go, noticed Clavdia, the pink moon of love and fertility, appeared dimmer than before. He shuddered and started the long walk back into town.
