The Guards of Galdenwyck [1-3]
Back at the Ffjords, Chairman Taga was preparing to eat a huge feast with his advisors consisting of yellow bell peppers as the theme ingredient. One of his personal servants, the Electrum Chef of Aerion, Hemocumen, created the feast in honor of the full yellow moon, Graephon. The other three regional Electrum Cheves were on vacation in the Isle of Grimden, where a magical orb at Praxton’s Lighthouse protected the wary sea-goers from harpies.
Azi Zanisi’s page had not arrived yet with word of the coming of the Guardians, so Taga’s castle was in a pleasant mood this evening.
“I like to eat cuisine!” Chairman Taga screamed, as he tore a huge chunk of roasted yellow pepper apart with his protruding mandible.
“Chairman Taga,” Hemocumen said, “I present you with four dishes, each honoring Graephon, and it’s shimmering jaundice.”
“You have shown us something quite new here, today. I see you have combined the yellow peppers perfectly with our traditional style of cooking in the Ffjords. This is a wonderful presentation you have put together for us. Before we begin in earnest, let us gaze upon Graephon in its full glory.”
Taga, his advisors, and Hemocumen all sallied out to the murder holes of the castle’s third tower. Just above Mount Arapaat could Graephon be seen it its full splendor.
“If memory serves me correctly,” Taga said, “Just last night, all 14 of our celestial Guards aligned in perfect harmony. I have heard a legend that states the Guardians will return to their mortal embodiments to wreak vengeance upon Galdenwyck, for Avaximander created them impure.
“But it seems clear to me that these are old Kobold tales, created by parents to keep children in line.”
Taga’s advisors laughed heartily, and his Man-at-Arms, Purvis Presapus, took the opportunity to stealthily eat one of Hemocumen’s stuffed yellow peppers which he had secreted in his pants. He had always coveted the dishes of the Electrum Cheves but was always denied a place at the table. “A Man-at-Arms should be at arms when his master is dining, not dining with him,” he was always told.
As Chairman Taga and his advisors, Alaric, Captain of the Army; Panchatva Gata, Minister of Magick; Ota, Minister of Finance; and Lazara, the Chairman’s soothsayer dined, Purvis occasionally stole a quick bite of the yellow pepper stuffed with squid and Oculan beef. The meal was informal and there was much casual talk among those gathered. Chairman Taga brought out two bottles of Grappina mead for his guests to drink. The laughter of the diners filled the great banquet hall until it was interrupted by a great commotion at the door.
“Purvis, go see who dares interrupt our meal,” ordered the Chairman, beef blood dripping down his chin.
Purvis quickly hid the pepper under his left arm and stiffly walked across the room and opened the huge reinforced wooden door. He whispered at the door for a few moments and then turned around to face the Chairman, discarding the pepper in an urn full of flowers near the door.
“Chairman Taga, it is the trusted messenger of Azi Zanisi. He brings urgent news.”
Chairman Taga nodded and wiped his chin on his tunic. “Very well, let him in.”
The messenger entered the room slowly. He was covered with mud and left dark tracks on Taga’s prized Aerionese rug, an action which did not go unnoticed by the fastidious Chairman.
“Well,” said the Chairman. “What is this urgent news?”
The messenger’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the sumptuous feast. He had not eaten since he left Oculan two days prior and almost dove onto the table, but he knew of the Chairman’s horrible temper and restrained himself.
“The Great and Terrible Wizard, Azi Zanisi has ordered me to inform you that the Guardians are returning. The fourteen moons of Galdenwyck aligned three days ago and it is only a matter of time before they are here. Master Zanisi requests a meeting with you, as soon as possible.”
“Bah!” shouted the Chairman, spitting mead on the floor. “That old fool. Does he not know it is but a child’s story, this return of the Guardians.”
“Chairman Taga, I beg your pardon, but if you do not believe me, look out the window and gaze upon Clavdia.”
The Chairman glared at the messenger but rose from his seat and walked to the murder hole behind him. As Taga gazed upon the twilit sky, he noticed nothing unusual. All the moons were in their normal orbits, and none of them appeared any differently.
“Just like that mad wizard, to get us stirred for no good cause.”
Ota followed behind Taga and inspected the sky.
“Chairman Taga,” Ota said, “The messenger is correct! Count the number of moons! There are only 13! Clavdia is missing!” All of his ministers rushed outside to view the marvel with their own eyes.
Purvis seized the chance to busy himself in finding the squid-and-Oculan-beef-stuffed pepper he’d thrown into the urn by the banquet hall doors. While Chairman Taga counted the moons, Purvis rescued the pepper and swallowed what remained whole.
“Ota is right,” Taga said, “What does this mean?”
Azi’s messenger crept towards the oaken table to grab two handfuls of yellow pepper quiche. After quickly chewing the luscious delight, he strode to past the table to the murder hole where Taga and his advisors had gathered.
“Clavdia is the moon that the fishermen of Avax use to navigate by,” Alaric said, “They will surely be lost at sea!”
“It is worse than Azi had predicted,” the messenger said, “for this means that Clavdia has already taken her physical form, and is now poised to lay waste!”
“Where would these Guardians appear?” Taga asked. “That is, if the legend is true.”
The messenger discovered a piece of yellow pepper between his cheek and gums, and swallowed it before he spoke again, “The 9th Tome of Avaximander clearly states: ‘The Guardians will materialize in their worldly embodiments, one by one, after the second day of their alignment. The location of their arrival will be the Isle of Grimden, where I, Avaximander, originally manifested their celestial spirits from the 14 elements of Galdenwyck.’”
“Alaric!” Taga shrieked, “The other Electrum Cheves are on sabbatical on the Isle of Grimden! You must send a legion to rescue them from the wily Clavdia!”
Lazara, Taga’s personal soothsayer, bowed her head and scraggly locks. She pulled her black hood over her face and began to channel the spirits of the land, by waving her hands in a crisscross pattern over her chest. Her eyes glowed a deep shade of crimson.
“Whoa, Whoa, woe unto this land!” She was racked with fear. “The Electrum Cheves cannot be saved in time. I see their heads on a spit, slowly roasting on an open fire, blood . . . dripping! Their eyes . . . bursting from the heat! Clavdia has made cuisine from the Cheves themselves! Azi Zanisi’s black tower . . . tumbling into the sea of Avax! Seafarers . . . lost at sea forever! A huge battle in the plains of the Ffjords! Aaaaah!”
Lazara collapsed and nearly plunged out of the murder hole to a grisly death. Taga and his advisors panicked, but lifted her to her feet. Her eyes turned a deep purple, and she was lost in another trance.
“Wait! I see a spell book! It is Avaximander’s lost spell book! A vampire guards it in a distant tomb. It possesses the power to end the pestilence . . . and there is a half-orc . . . he is the only one who can pick its lock! Without the half-orc, the spell book is useless. Without the spell book, the half-orc is nothing! Fate must be in a pleasant mood to drive these two together!”
