Session 16: The Dreams Dragons Bring Part 2

Scene 2: In the Halls of the Mountain King

Our heroes have travelled far into the icy north in search of the Heart of Maran Gor. Chiniko’s unerring sense of direction has brought them to Mount Wintertop, a mountain sacred to the local people. The mountain is engulfed in a violent storm and the group decides to avoid it for now, fearing for the safety of the ship.

Instead they investigate the locals and quickly find themselves in the town of Valberg. It’s a small and rude place compared to the vast, if crumbling, City of Kings but it is the seat of Heboric, the Mountain King. The people also bear an unusual physical resemblance to Morn, one he is all but blind to.

As strange and unusual visitors to the region the group are quickly brought to the attention of the King. They enter his great hall, small and smoky compared to many they have visited where his Court ogles and stares at their outlandish clothing. The King looks old beyond his years, many troubles afflict him but his company is pleasant enough and his wife is a charming and genial host. They order a feast in celebration of the new visitors.

It is Winter in the Mountain Kingdom and, with travel, farming and herding out the people spend most of their time indoors eating, drinking and dancing. The mood is a little forced, all is not well but Chiniko spices things up by drawing out one of the Kings own dreams and weaving it with the music and performance of his bards. In the centre of the room a tall slender warrior woman takes shape and begins a dance of blades with dark cloaked figures. As the battle builds the people begin to sing and Morn finds himself singing along.

With the mood lightened the party circulates to find out what has been going on here. They learn much quickly. Azhanti is the subject of much curiosity, his kind is unknown here and he feigns a lack of knowledge of the language. Artemis speaks with the King and plies him with flattery and wine. Assamber strikes up a rapport with the brooding priest Brand while Chiniko aggravates all of the young men by becoming the centre of the attention of every unattached woman in the room.

The party soon learns that the Kingdom is suffering. They have somehow offended the Gods who have turned their face from them. Undead have arisen from the old burial grounds which have been exposed by the retreat of the great Glacier. Giants have been spotted in the Northern mountains and every omen sought by the priests has been unfavourable. The storm engulfing Mount Wintertop is believed to be the sign of the Gods anger and the Emissaries of the Gods failed to arrive for the choosing. This attracts some attention.

It seems that once a year the Storm Lords choose a number of the people to serve them on the mountain. They send their Emissaries on the wings of dragons to pick those who are worthy. This year they have not come and there is much consternation. Hebeoric fears that his brother Wolfgang, the last King, offended the Gods with his belief in the Old Ways, the worship of the Faces in the Rock.

As the party descends into drunken debauchery the doors to the Hall burst open and an ancient crone makes her way to the centre. “Morag, you are barred from my Hall, you risk my displeasure by coming here” snarls the King, deep in his cups. “I require no blessing from you false King, a true Heir to the Throne sits in this Hall now, Morn, son of Mirta, daughter of Wolfgang.” The crowd falls, silent. “Is this true” asks the King. Morn, ox grease dripping down his chin looks baffled. “I’ve no idea, never been here before in my life.” “I’ve had enough of your meddling old woman” the King declares. “Take her away, let her be stoned in the morning.”

The arrival of Morag seems to dash cold water over the party and the King and Queen retire quickly followed by the rest of the celebrants. Morn decides to try and talk to the Hag and is allowed entry. His name seems to have some power now. Morag explains a little of his history. As a child he was one of the chosen. His mother, Mirta, was a hero of the Clan and accomplished monster slayer. She was also the old Kings only daughter and as such could not inherit unless by the will of the old Kings Council. She was also a devotee of the Old Ways and urged her father to overturn the ban on their practice. Morn was chosen when he was little more than 4 years old, a highly unusual occurrence. Incensed by his virtual kidnap his mother sought the Temple of the Stormlords on the top of the mountain. Those who are not chosen can seek entry to the City by Facing the Mountain, a deadly climb up narrow, icy, monster infested cliffs. Neither Mirta nor Morn was ever seen again. Morag urges Morn to seek out the Faces in the Rock, the Old Gods of his people to learn more of the truth of these events.

Determined to make his own enquiries the group explore the castle further. The Hall of Heroes records the names, deeds and images of those who were chosen and there Morn finds an image of himself as a young boy and his mother. It is the woman drawn from the Kings dream. Further enquiries are made at the Shrine to the Stormlords, there they see images of the Emissaries, Tiefling Warriors mounted on Wyverns descending out of the sky to steal away the locals.

Shaken by these revelations Morn retreats to the high cold battlements to ponder. As he looks out over the long cold valley another figure joins him. He turns to find the spectral image of an elder northman standing before him. His hand goes to the hammer out of instinct but the spirit raises its hand in peace. “Who are you?” Morn asks. “I am Wolfgang, your Grandfather. I too often came to this place to think.” “I know what happens here” says Morn. “It’s a lie, one I could shatter in the morning if I so chose.” “Will that help your people?” the old King asks. “Can you do what is right for your people, for such is the mark of a good King.” As the spirit fades away Morn mutters under his breath “Yes, but I’m not a King.”

The group determine to seek out the Faces in the Rock the very next day and learn more of the truth.