26th-27th of Eleasis (Highsun) – Summer 1486
Location: High above the Dessarin Valley
They must have climbed a thousand feet on the curious cloud ramp and risen three times that amount into the air by the time the party and their wagon of beer and smuggled weapons broke through into the stark sunlight beyond the cloud’s grey ceiling. Before them rose a singular phallic tower of white stone, at least two hundred feet high and of enormous proportions. More curious than its size, easily attributable to the likely probability this was a Cloud Giant abode, was the roof. In place of tile or thatch was a fifty-foot tall pointy wizards hat, resplendent in royal blue hues and complete with golden stars and crescent moons embroidered around its conical circumference. It waved gently in the wind like it had been starched to near perfection.
So distracting was the sight that the Griffon lazily sunning itself on a pile of fluffy white cloud rocks almost went without notice as Smacky drove the fully laden beer cart soundlessly through an opening in a low circular barrier wall that marked the edge of the solid cloud base upon which the tower stood. Pinko quickly assessed that the winged beast did not appear hostile. Its nap disturbed by the intruders, the griffon stretched luxuriously, arching its feline back high before gracefully launching itself into the air, circling the tower twice and disappearing into the aerie directly under the brim of the wizard hat roof.
An open archway invited investigation as the only visible entrance to the tower at ground level. Smacky parked the wagon and pulled out his hammer before approaching… just in case. The empty vestibule was separated from the hexagonal chamber beyond by a thin, translucent blue curtain that flapped gently in the breeze. Brushing the cloth aside, Seepage strode into the middle of the main room, taking in a giant-sized wooden table and an equally proportioned stone chair which were its only furnishings. Dangling from the ceiling by iron chains, six crystal spheres radiating analogous sunlight drew the eyes upwards to a 20-foot-wide hole in the soaring ceiling through which was silently descending a billowing purple cloak and a huge pair of sandals.
The cloud giant landed softly in front of the desk with what Pinko identified as the hallmarks of a Levitate spell washing over him. He had windswept white hair, a wispy white beard, and his gaudy purple robe was adorned with the same gold stars that graced the roof outside. As he studied the trio of adventurers in front of him his face broke into a wide and beaming smile. “So, I have finally caught up with you! I’ve been observing your exploits ever since you trounced those brutes trying to get into Goldenfields! I must apologise, I don't usually stalk so ominously, but I had to be sure you were the ones. I am Zephyros, wizard and seerer of things. Welcome to my home.” he bowed with a grace that his size belied. "Which 'ones'?" asked Pinko suspiciously. "Why, the chosen ones of course. The smallfolk who will bring peace to Giantkind."
Ignoring the accolade Seepage jumped in with her own inquiry. “Are you the one who attacked Nightstone?” She asked the question using an academic tone that Pinko found hard to read the intentions of. It was equally likely the warlock would either applaud an affirmative response or use it as an excuse to do something very, very, stupid. ”Not I, no.” responded Zephyros, his head hung in genuine sadness. “T’was misguided kin of mine who believe the Nightstone to be an artefact from old Ostoria, the ancient kingdom of the Giants. Though how they thought it would assist in raising their position in the Ordning I do not know.” he continued as if this explained everything.
“What is ‘The Ordning’? queried Pinko, his interest raised. “What WAS the Ordning you mean.” countered the giant. “It is smashed, broken, sundered. It is why you are here before me now!” The blank expressions on the faces of the adventurers prompted Zephyros to explain further. He broke into a monologue that seemed almost rote learned from some ancient text designed to convey exposition of an obvious scenario to a group of slow-witted students. “Giantkind lives in a caste system imposed by our chief god, Annam the All-Father. The Ordning determines where a giant stands among his or her ilk. Traditionally, storm giants have stood at the top. Powerful seers, skilled at identifying and interpreting cosmic signs and divine omens, they struggle to keep the weaker races of giants from despoiling the realms of small folk and sparking conflict. My kin, the cloud giants, tend to be more aloof and aristocratic. Most rarely condescend to deal with lesser giants or small folk. I am considered somewhat eccentric by my fellows it may surprise you to know.” Smacky was picking his nose enthusiastically and getting bored at all this history talk. He started sniffing around his pack for something to eat. Zephyros seemed to sense the barbarian's mood and took a piece of cheese from his pocket that was nearly larger than Smacky and placed it on the ground in front of him. The half-orc grinned upwards, grabbed the slab in both hands and started gnawing at it like a big green mouse.
Seeps deftly flicked out a dagger lancing a chunk of curd and snacked on it delicately while hearing out the rest of the Giant’s tale. “Below us are the tyrannical, warmongering fire giants and the merciless, predatory frost giants. Near the bottom of the Ordning are the xenophobic stone giants, who mostly live underground and regard the surface world as a realm of dreams. The lowest and smallest of the true giants are the hill giants, as gluttonous as they are loathsome.” Zephyros outwardly shuddered in disgust as if the mere mention of Hill Giants made him unclean. “Now with the Ordning dissolved and Amman silent as to why, each race of Giant has interpreted it as a test and begun to undertake steps to prove to him that they deserve to be elevated to the top of a new Ordning.”
Pinko pondered this recital insightfully for a moment. “That could explain why the Hill Giants suddenly had the courage to attack Goldenfields. Though who knows what they hoped to achieve by it. If the Storm Giants are so powerful why do they not step in and put the others in their place?” he probed. “Argh, therein lies the mystery. Hekaton has been silent, and that does not bode well for you little folk.” Zephyros once more delivered the remark with an air of finality until the raised eyebrows of druid and warlock prompted him to explain further. “King Hekaton, Lord of Storms, ruler of Giantkind? No? Nothing? Curious.” The cloud giant looked to the sky and muttered an incantation. Wispy energies of foggy mist wrapped around his head as his eyes went pure grey. Though his mouth didn’t move his voice echoed around the tower seemingly targeted at some unseen consciousness above him “Are you SURE these three are the chosen ones? ... Really? ... REAALLY? ... And I am just supposed to take them… Yes I know I only get five questions and I asked two this morning it’s jus… FINE!” He snapped back to reality, flustered and obviously totally oblivious that his half of the conversation was audible to his guests.
“Sorry about that, just checking something, anywho, King Hekaton is usually the one who the other giant lords defer to, however, it seems he is somewhat, errr, silent as of late. His court is unresponsive to communications and the other Giant Lords’ schemes are progressing unchastised. I fear chaos will reign along the Sword Coast unless something is done.” He slumped in his chair, all his energy seemingly leaving him after his magical efforts. Smacky finally chirped up with some action on the cards. Spitting out a mouthful of waxy skin he interjected “Greats! Where weez going den? Smash some giants? Visit Herkytum and tells him to get off his huge lazy arse?!”. Zephyros looked perplexed. “Visit the Storm Giant Court in Maelstrom? Impossible. Even if I knew where it lay hidden off the coast, the Hold of the Storm Giants is located under the sea.” “Under the sea?” piped up Seeps. “Under the sea!” confirmed the wizard as a score of calypso music floated in one high window and danced off down to where it is better through another. “No, I have been given clear instructions. My task is to take you wherever you were headed as a matter of critical importance. In no other way can we avert disaster." said the wizard bringing a clenched fist gently together with its opposite open palm in an act of self-confirmation. “Well that is easy then,” remarked Pinko. “on to Mornbryn’s Shield… we have some beer to deliver.”
Zephyros nodded and levitated himself up to his chambers on the floor above. The cloud tower started gliding north as the breeze picked up and the smell of nesting griffon floated downwards. There were no stairs or means for the party to follow, but they made a comfortable camp on the ground floor and over the afternoon and into the next day they feasted on amusingly oversized foodstuffs, goblets of wine big enough for Seeps to bath in and were even given a few enormous tomes to flick through to pass the time. Smacky liked the ones with pictures of animals in them and the process of having to walk several meters to turn a page. He even learnt about something called a “Crag Cat”. They were big white fluffy kitties and he wanted to snuggle one… or turn it into a warm coat. Or both. His curiosity about the giant cultures raised, Pinko delved into their history and amongst the politics Cloud Giants were so fond of recording, he found some interesting lore on their Fiery brethren. Specifically, that millennia ago before the fall of Ostoria the Fire Giants once dwelt in a great forge called Ironslag, somewhere in the Ice Spires to the north of the Silver Marches. There they crafted weapons, armour and even huge war machines used to battle dragons. When the giants' empire fell, Ironslag had been abandoned, though its great forges were rumoured to still exist. Never one much for reading, Cockseepage lounged in her oversized goblet, the ratio of its wine to urine content tilting inexorably towards the latter. The sound of Griffins coming and going was commonplace, so it was that they didn’t pay heed to the flapping of wings that marked the approach of nine giant vultures until their dark wings started slowly gliding into land just outside the front door, and robed humanoid figures disembarked.
Next Episode: Unfriendly Skies
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