Storm Catchers: Chapter 3 ‘The Trojan Horn’

Rocky, Vellym, Artemis, and Morgryn find themselves in the gemstone room. The Murkmire Stone, pale-green and opaque, sits on display atop a pedastal in the center of the room. Casually leaning on his cane, Vellym inspects around the base of the pedestal and around the room for mechanical defenses. Artemis quietly brings up a detect magic spell. Flexing his muscles, Rocky stands tall and intimidating, daring anyone to come at him with a serious face behind his mirrored aviators.

Quick to spot, Rocky eyes a couple of guards. They wear tactical garb, each holding a pouch.

“Divination magic.” Artemis whispers, as Rocky points this out to her. “Just a touch.”

As Artemis and Vellym continue their pass of the room, Rocky is distracted by a beautiful female-presenting dragonborn. Her long bare arms glisten a deep rust colour, under the harsh museum lights. He makes his way over to her to chat.

“Nolxast Bellroth, a pleasure to meet you…” She extends her hand, delicately, towards Rocky.

“Rocky. Nice to meet you.” The barbarian grins stupidly.

Seeing this interaction, Morgryn walks over towards Rocky. Turning to Bellroth, he says in his masked stuck-up accent, “Good evening madame, are you here to admire the stone?”

“You could say that.” Bellroth’s tone is impossible to miss, for Morgryn, and even for Rocky. Her distaste for this place, for Arkin, is evident. “I’m something of a collector myself.”

“Oh yes?” Morgryn makes small talk. “And what do you think of it. This room. This, museum?”

“Well, Miss Arkin seems to think she’s a big deal. But I wouldn’t mind seeing her taken down a peg or two…”

Unearthed Cafe

The gemstone room well scouted, the makeshift heist team begins to hatch their scheme.

“As I was telling you outside,” Artemis whispers. “If we can find a good spot to hide, I can wait until nightfall, and let ya’ll in.”

“I don’t like that idea… it seems risky. But, I am but one vote.” Vellym states, before walking across the main hall towards a big sign reading ‘Unearthed Cafe’.

Vellym looks past the long cafeteria tables and beyond the chalkboard menus. Tall, glass, windows span floor to ceiling. The glass is thick, reinforced, but opens at the top. Outside, Vellym sees the stone wall of the gothic building next door, and the dark alley below. He ponders with one hand on his hip and gripping his cane, the other at his chin. An entryway? Probably not. But an emergency escape route? Potentially…

The Trojan Horn

Artemis, Morgryn, and Rocky investigate the rest of the second floor, finding a narrow broom closet.

“Think this will do?” Morgryn asks Artemis.

She nods and glancing over her shoulder, “Yeah, yeah I think so.” Looking to Rocky.

Rocky nods. His stomach rumbling loudly. “Oops.” He removes his sunglasses to wipe the lenses. “I’m kind of hungry again…”

Artemis stifles a laugh and enters the closet, quickly sifts through its contents, and finds a spot she likes. “Here, on this shelf.” Behind a coil of rope. “I’ll go in, and Rocky put me right there.”

He nods again then cocks his head with a slight worry. “And what happens if they find you? You have a back up plan right? I don’t know about you being in here all by yourself.”

Artemis thinks for a moment, and tears a piece of parchment out of her pocket. She scrawls in ornate script: ‘for Lady Arkin’. “Stick this in the end of the horn, just in case.”

Within the broom closet, a warm wind whispers up from the ground and wraps itself around Artemis, billowing the dark cloak she has wrapped around her shoulders. “See you soon,” and she vanishes with nothing more than a couple golden electric sparks.

Rocky catches the horn, and gingerly places it on the shelf, the note tucked into it. He slides his sunglasses back on, nods to Morgryn, “let’s go.”

Final preparations

The guards usher the guests out of the gala. Vellym takes note that some are dragging their feet. On his way out, he asks the guard at the front if he can have his tools back. This grants him a dark look from the guard, but they bugrudgingly hand back the confiscated thieves tools.

Vellym departs the museum and awaits Morgryn and Rocky in the shadows nearby. When they regroup, he notes, “I think we might not be the only ones interested in acquiring the stone tonight.”

“Yes,” Morgryn agrees. “That dragonborn seemed especially vindictive.”

“Do you think she’s single?” Rocky asks them.

Morgryn raises his eybrows in slight disbelief. Instead of answering, Vellym ushers them both towards one of the alleys. Looking around, he determines they won’t be overheard. “We have two options. The front door we came in tonight, or there’s that loading bay in the back we saw earlier.”

With some discussion, they agree to check out the loading bay. It’s empty, the guard who was there earlier in the day is no longer. In the dark of night, Vellym takes off his goggles, revealing dark eyes, pupiless and inky black. He runs his hands over the heavy door, fishes out his tools, and deftly navigates the locking mechanism with a click.

Morgryn pulls the fake moustache off, scowling. “I can’t be happier to drop that act.” His regular accent returning. “But, I don’t think we’re done for the night.” And with that, a reddish hue emits from him for less than a second. His face morphing into that of one of the guards they saw earlier in the evening, as he casts disguise self.