Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"

“Well, how d’yeh suppose we get out of here ‘chief’ boss lady.” Duor said angrily.

“We still have a Hargak to slay.” Coerraine observed.

“Oy, Goldilocks. Yeh don’t think rock spikes falling from the ceiling constitute ‘death rock’? We were brought here to be trapped and killed…not do the yappers any favor!” the dwarf retorted, angrily.

Coerraine pointed toward the tall stalagmite the kobold captain had pointed to. His eyes glowed with the golden light of his gifted vision.

“That tall rock there…” Coerraine began.

“The stalagmite? By the lake’s edge?” Corrected and questioned Fen.

“Stall-ag-whatever. That one and a few of the smaller ones around it are most definitely Evil. Whatever else is in this cavern, there is definitely something to be defeated here.” The Redstar Knight said. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, unfortunately, whatever else those spike-creatures were, they did not register in his divine sight as evil. He mentally said a prayer that the companions had slain all of the things.

“We go back. Right now!” Duor began to rant again. “We kill all of the yappers and take their treasure…though, honestly, how much wealth could a buncha those no-good-fer-nuthin’s have? I say we round them up and herd them in here so the Hargak can kill them for us!” the dwarf said definitively.

The rest of the party looked at the wall of fallen rocks and stone that blocked their way back to mine. Then looked at Duor.

“How would we do that, exactly?” asked Haelan with all characteristic sincerity.

“This rockslide is a trap and kobolds do love their traps.” Kurn offered.

“And they said there was more of their clan to come through into the mine.” Observed Erevan.

“They will reset the trap?” Alaria questioned.

“They will have to if they want to get the rest of their people into the mine.” Kurn nodded, agreeing with the elf’s observation.

“Kobolds are almost as good at digging as our kind.” Kordun grumbled. The dwarf warrior’s pride was sorely bruised at being ensnared by so obvious a kobold double-cross. "They will have this cleared away in no time…Once they think we are dead.” He finished morbidly.

“IF they think we are dead. IF there are others of their kind to come through! THEN they will clear the blockage.” Duor raved.

“Then they will find the Hargak gone.” Alaria said plainly. “And we will reap the spoils of our arrangement whether they like it or not. Just because they don’t keep their word doesn’t mean we don’t have to, Duor.” The magess stated in her ‘commanding’ tone.

The others, particularly Coerraine, agreed with this…much to Duor’s disapproval.

Their wounds bound, their weapons readied, the companions set off for the tall stalagmite near the lake’s edge.

On their way to the water’s edge, Erevan noted movement further up the sloping cavern, near the opposite wall from where they had entered.

A small fissure was there. Evident, now that they were closer, it was easily large enough for humanoids to pass through. They were small and scurrying. More kobolds, Erevan noted. The dwarves confirmed the elf’s guess. The creatures scurried into the fissure and no further activity was noted.

“Let’s go kill some kobolds! Frag the Hargak!...assuming there even is one.” Duor enthusiastically proposed.

Haelan looked nervously at Alaria. Fen conferred quietly with Erevan.

“No, Duor.” Alaria said quietly. Coerraine’s heart was buoyed. The wizard continued, “The kobold chief said the only ones of their kind left here were their females and younglings…and the shaman. No doubt there is a limited compliment of soldiers left to guard them. But we will not slaughter those who have not wronged us.”

“They HAVE wronged us!!!” Duor burst.

“HAVE WRONGED US…-AV Wronged Us…-onged us…us…” The outburst echoed throughout the vast arched cavern.

Everyone looked at the dwarven rogue. Duor cringed a bit as his statement bounced off of the various stone walls.

“You are the worst sneaky dwarf I have ever had the misfortune to encounter.” Erevan seethed through clenched teeth.

Duor looked to his two ‘kinsmen’ for affirmation. Kordun was staring at the ceiling. Kurn simply shook his head side-to-side before continuing to march, next to Alaria, holding his torch aloft for the human wizard.

“What time is it? Should we, perhaps, rest a spell and continue later.” Festus interjected. The satyr did not at all like the level of tension among the group. His eyes, periodically, went to the ceiling to see if any of the dipping rock formations moved.

“It’s only mid-afternoon.” Duor and Kordun said in tandem.

Bollux, Festus thought to himself.

“We can do this, friend Festus.” Said the half-elf. His assuredness seemed as solid as the stone around them.

Drawing confidence from that, Alaria nodded the companions to continue. They meandered through the veritable “forest” of stalagmites toward the eight or nine foot tall pillar of wet stone the paladin had identified as the “Hargak”.

As the party approached a ring of smaller pillars that surrounded the tallest one, Coerraine identified four of the three to four foot tall stalagmites as also emenating ‘evil.’ The air was very moist and as they’d approached, the amount of lichen and moss, both glowing and dark had increased. A peculiar clear-ish slime coated much of the ground and rocks around them.

Was there more than one ‘Hargak’, Alaria wondered.

Kordun pointed to one of the small stalagmites and looked at Coerraine.

The paladin nodded.

The dwarf warrior stabbed his white-glowing broadsword into the slime-covered rock.

Immediately, the entire site went mad.

The source of the 'stone' immediately “grew” six small tentacles that flailed about in pain. A single large round eye shot open and a “mouth”, which has previously appeared as simple folded of dripped limestone opened to reveal rows of small pointed teeth. A crying screech went up all around them.

The other three small pillar that Coerraine had identified as “evil” similarly opened mouths and eyes and began screeching. All around the party, tentacles flailed off of stalagmites and whipped about furiously at anything close to them.

One, beside Haelan, wrapped around the daelvar’s ankle and Haelan was pulled from his feet to lie flat on his stomach with a jolt.

Another of the small pillars wrapped tendrils around both of Duor’s arms but not before the quick thief was able to draw his enchanted dagger. The ethereal green energy of the blade blended with the green and blue glow of the cavern about them.

Kurn was entirely surprised and became enwrapped in six tendrils from another of the small pillars, marginally shorter than he was. His face portrayed abject horror to see an eye and toothy maw before the creature sank its teeth into the dwarf silversmith.

Coerraine, immediately, stabbed at the thing holding Duor. It shrieked and released the dwarf. The echoes of the creature’s cry bounced around the hollow cavern.

Alaria backed away from Kurn and prepared to cast. Fen, also, was chanting something in the cryptic tongue of his order. Haelan was beginning to pray fervently.

In a simultaneous moment, a ring of silver light appeared around Haelan <cleric spell: Sanctuary>, Fen’s skin appeared to turn into a deep brown wrinkled surface <druid spell: Barkskin> and Alaria made weaving motions with her hands.

The energy flowed through the wizard, it seemed to her so simple now. So invigorating. She was casting her first “second tier” spell and the “power” that she felt flowing through her body was intoxicating. There was no swirl of air about her. No sparks around her person. No ‘raising’ of power. It was just there and it was hers to command.

“Arakii arachnaeus” <mage spell: Web> her mouth said without thinking. Undistracted by the things happening around her, Alaria directed her spell at the large, eight foot tall pillar of “stone” even as it began to bend and move.

A ball of white light burst forth from her hand to slam into the tall grey-green slime-covered “formation.” In a blink, the ball burst and the whole of the pillar of “rock” was practically caccooned in sticky luminescent webbing.

The smaller creature’s tentacles, two now circled the halfling’s legs, were immediately expunged from his circle of Santuary.

Kordun, despite his plate-mailed form, dodged a couple of whipping tentacles from the creature it had stabbed before the thing slumped forward and did not move.

Coerraine pulled Duor free from the creature who had entangled him. The dwarf slashed at the nearly four-foot tall creature, severing ends of two of its six tentacles in a swath of eerie green light.

“STOP!” <translated from dwarven > came the deep gravelly voice from the largest creature.

The sudden voice caused everyone to pause.

The exclamation was followed by the sound of rocks rolling over each other.

The creature holding Kurn released him and began to slink, rather like a slug or worm back toward the tall creature. The wounded creature that had gripped Duor and felt Coerraine’s spear did the same.

The third small stalagmite also inched its way toward the large creature. The one Kordun had slain did not move, instead oozed out sickly grey fluid out onto the stone, slime-covered, ground.

“It can talk?!” Haelan said, still secure in his Sanctuary invocation, careful not to move outside of its protective area.

“Are you the Hargak?” questioned Fen through brown cracked lips in Dwarven.

“It is what the furscales call me. I do not know its meaning, nor care. Just stop hurting my babies!” the web-wrapped pillar of stone said. Its single eye was huge. Its mouth was barely able to open to speak.

From its attempts to free itself from Alaria’s spell, several thick portions of its previously singular body became apparent. The creature’s tentacles, all presumed, like its offspring had.

“Babies?!” Haelan repeated in Common…not sure if he got the translation right. “It has babies?” he said looking at Alaria plaintively. His gaze shifted to the “little stalagmites” inching their way along slimey “tails”, that appeared no more than slime covered stones, to go behind the eight foot tall web-wrapped creature.

“You are the Hargak?” Alaria asked directly.

The creature looked to the dwarves among the bipeds. Kurn translated into dwarven.

“That is what the furscales call me.” The creature responded after a moment.

“Please, let me younglings go. I will give you treasure. I will give you whatever you want .” Said the spellbound creature.

“Gonna give us treasure?!” Duor said enthusiastically. “I don’t see a reason to hinder this monstrosity if that’s the case! More than the bloody kobolds did.”

Coerraine made a move to stab another of the “younglings” as it made its slow approach to its, apparent, “parent.”

“Coerraine, hold!” Alaria yelled.

As if by instinct, the paladin stayed his blow.

The creature continued to inch its way until it was behind its “mother”….”father”...whatever it was.

“Kurn, if you please,” Alaria began. The dwarf nodded and translated for the magess.

“You wil leave this place, and take your ‘younglings’ with you.” The R’Hathi wizard looked at her companions. None disagreed, though Duor looked at her somewhat pleadingly. His face was lit by the unreal green light of his dagger. Alaria knew her spell would not last much longer. She assumed the creature knew that as well.

“You will leave us you treasure. But you will not return here. If you do…we will return and slay you and your children.” Alaria swallowed loudly after the last statement.

“Release me and I will do as you ask. Just do not hurt my babies.” Said the weird creature in broken dwarven.

“Alaria, they are EVIL creatures!” Coerraine protested.

“It is but a mother protecting her brood, paladin.” Fen said in defense of the wizard’s proposition.

“And it’s giving us treasure, Goldilocks.” Said Duor irreverently.

“You will give us your treasure and we will stay here to make sure you leave and do not hinder the kobolds or darken this cavern ever again.” Alarai said again.

Kurn translated into dwarven.

The luminescent webbing snaring the creature faded from view.

One of its tentacles reached down behind it and threw a large sack toward the party.

“The furscales were trying to move this through the cavern .” The creature admitted. Kurn translated for Alaria.

Duor eyes nearly popped out his head to see the sack land, opening, to reveal coins and gems and who knew what else.

“That’ll do.” Said the dwarvish rogue.

“But Alaria…er…Duor… the creature is evil!” Coerraine protested again.

“We said we wouldn’t slaughter, Coerraine.” The Hilltender said sternly. “I will not kill ‘children.’ Would you?” his hazel gaze landed firmly on the Redstar.

Coerraine, despite himself shrank back from the halfling’s gaze.

“And it’s giving us its treasure…and leaving. That’ll be enough for me, pally.” Duor retorted.

“It is only trying to protect its young, Coerraine.” Fen offered in an attempt to get the paladin to understand.

The “heathen’s” reasoning did little to soothe the Redstar’s heart.

“And we now have more to contribute to Braddok’s raising.” Erevan said matter-of-factly.

“We will wait and watch, while you depart.” Alaria said to the creature.

The roper’s eye narrowed, angry to be commanded in such a manner, but unwilling to put its young at further peril. It had already lost one. It would not dare to lose any more from this bunch.

“The cavern is yours, heroes.” It said.

A piece of the floor, previously thought to be just another slimy stone formation ripped up from the ground. With careful purpose, it slithered itself away from the party. Its body twisted so that its giant eye was fixed on the companions. The three remaining younglings followed in a row.

“It’s just like a mother duck.” Haelan said innocently, watching the creatures leave.

Coerraine looked angrily at the cleric. The Hilltender did not notice. Duor was busy counting through the coins and gems.

“Kordun, if you please.” Alaria said nonchalantly and nodded toward the sack of booty.

The dwarf warrior took it out from under Duor’s eager eyes. The dwarf thief grumbled something inaudible.

“I propose,” began Alaria, “We stay here for the remainder of the day.” Her suggestion was met with questioning glances.

“We must ensure the creature does not return.” Alaria reasoned. “And if the dwarves are correct, give the kobolds time to clear the trap.”

“And then what?” said Coerraine defeated. “I suppose we’ll go skipping, hand in hand, with the kobolds back to their lair?”

The acid was shocking coming from the Redstar Knight.

“No, Goldshield. Then we …get even.” Alaria said. The gaze she shot the blond paladin put the young Redstar off his game. He nodded an understanding.

The companions, collectively, watched as the tall creature made its way among the natural stalagmites and disappeared through another, until them unnoticed, fissure in the cavern wall.

“Sharpen your blades, boys.” Alaria said to no one in particular. “Tomorrow, we will be fulfilling our end of the bargain…in spades.” Unintentionally, the air around the R’Hathi sparked a bit with arcane enegies.

Fen and Erevan shifted uncomfortably at the wizard’s obvious anger and malice. Haelan, as well.

Coerraine smiled. As did Festus.

Duor along with his dwarven “kin” grinned menacingly.

The party found a patch of stone free of slime with an overhang, in the event some piercers had been missed, and made camp.

Despite whatever time it was outside the mountain, the party easily fell into deep sleep, when their watch wasn’t up. Two at a time, just to be sure.

Haelan flinched seeing something disturb the surface of the water of the lake.

Thankfully, for all on watch, there was no further piercer attack, not did the roper or its young return. Coerraine confirmed this with his god-given sight.

The company slowly made their way back up the way they’d come. Erevan and Festus assured them they were following their own trail.

Sure enough, the dwarves’ supposition had been correct. The passage sat there, open and free of debris as if they had just passed through it.

“Shall we explore this passage?” Haelan asked, pointing out the side passageway that was just inside the entrance way.

Again, against her will, Alaria was put in the “command” position. She made a mental note to have the charter from Bridgetower changed as soon as they got back.

“No, I think not, Haelan.” Alaria said. “We go straight back to Chief Barper’s throne room. You know the way, Kordun?” The dwarf miner/warrior nodded.

“And, we take no prisoners along the way.” Said the wizard angrily.

Fen raised an eyebrow toward Erevan.

The elf seemed not to notice. He simply nocked an arrow in his bow. “The less kobolds we have to deal with, kiili, the better.” <translated from elvin>

Alaria heard Erevan’s remark and smirked approval. She had “geared up” for the day. She looked forward to again experiencing that magickal ecstasy she’d felt the previous day when casting at the roper.

Fen nodded an agreement at Erevan. The rest of the party already had weapons ready.

They moved quickly, following Kordun’s sure lead. The dwarf warrior with his white-glowing broadsword was eager to expunge the double-crossing creatures.

Still, it was an hour before that arrived at Chief Barper’s outer chamber. The kobold soldiers there were shocked to see anything come up through the passage to the Hargak, let alone humans and elves and dwarves.

With quick slashes of blades and stabs of spears, the sentries were put down.

Between Coerraine and Kordun, they easily shoved the large wooden doors open, to Chief Barper’s horror.

The kobold chief leapt up onto his throne, as he had at their initial meeting, and began barking and yapping at the top of his lungs.

The six guards around the chamber took up a position around the “dais” of the chief’s throne.

The “next-shaman” came scurrying into the room…he paused mid-scurry to look at the party in disbelief before taking a position on the dais beside the throne.

The chief, again, whispered into his intermediary’s ear.

“Chiefest Barper bids you good welcome you lived for the Hargak.” The next shaman said shaking.

Haelan called out to Faerantha to slay these creatures affronting Her hills.

“Este nonclim everus shuduntae, Deisa Faerantha!”<cleric spell: Spiritual Weapon, “ Holy Faerantha, bring your justice down upon these creatures!”> the Hilltender shouted with amazing, to his companions, presence.

The appearance of a glowing golden bough of pine, sporting needles along its length, and tipped with a huge pinecone sped across the large chamber and struck three of the guard kobolds.

The creatures, completely fearful of the magic before them broke formation. The “next-shaman”, Kiff, glowered and began chanting, even as his chief was barking orders at him.

“Everx imberil rex” Alaria said plainly. The magic flowed up and through her outstretched arms.

Violet and blue flames shot forth and pummelled remaining guards. Their cries buried in the crackling of magical flame. The burst of magical power had disrupted the kobold would-be shaman’s attempted invocation.

“You tricked us.” Alaria said firmly. Kurn translated.

“I…no, I…Yarp…he…him fault…” <translated from kobold > bumbled the King of Kobolds of This-Here-Rocks.

Two more kobold guards entered the room and immediately charged the party.

With a wave of his hand and an inaudible phrase, vines shot up out of the ground and completely entangled the attacking kobolds. They yipped and yapped their displeasure before the vines sealed their canine snouts.

They thrashed for a moment and the kobold chief barked his disapproval, relayed by the thoroughly concerned “next-shaman.”

“Yous nots attack us. We’s alliedances.” Kiff protested.

“Like hell!” Duor shouted in response before sending a crossbow dart into one of the more stalwart un-charrred guard’s throat. The creature dropped immediately.

“No’s. No’s! We has deal!” Kiff relayed from the obviously scared chief.

“’We has deal’ that you broke!” Alaria shouted across the hall before summoning her power again and sending two violet-red shards of energy into the chief.

“Gah!” shouted the eldritch stricken chief and pounced off his seat to land behind his throne.

Kiff, utterly at a loss as to what to do, made a dash for the other passage. Erevan and Festus took him down in a hail of arrows.

The kobolds entangled by Fen struggled and tried to cut the vines and roots with their spear tips.

The carrot-topped half-elf clenched his fist and the vegetation contracted, completely snuffing the life out of the creatures.

Five more guards entered the chamber led by Cap’n Yarp. Yarp slid to a standstill, but only for a moment, as his guards slammed into him and the three front-runners fell to the floor on top of each other. The last two, seeing the humans and elves and dwarves, went running away, yipping and howling as they went.

Haelan flung his magic shield and knocked both of the deserters unconscious, the shield clanging off one then the other before returning to the daelvar’s waiting hand.

“Chief Barper!” Alaria proclaimed, not knowing or caring if the chief was still in the room to hear, “We have defeated the Hargak. You have no more reason to stay here. I suggest you gather your people and return to your former lair.” She slammed the iron shod end of her staff down on the floor to reinforce the command. It “clattered” loudly throughout the chamber.

There were only two shaking guards near the throne and Cap’n Yarp with two if his soliders near the passage from which the party had originally entered the throne room.

A crossbow bolt from Kurn and another arrow from Festus’ short bow left Cap’n Yarp standing by himself.

“No’s hurts! No’s hurts! Make deals!” Yarp yelled. He threw his short sword to the floor and held up his small clawed hands in an “I give up” pose.

“You’s lousy cap’n Yarp! No more’s cap’n!” came Barper’s barking voice from behind the crudely crafted stone throne.

“And you’s lousy chief, chiefiest chiefs of kobolds!” retorted the obviously vexed Yarp.

“Give us yer treasure an’ get OUT!” hollered Duor through the chamber.

There was the sound of sliding stone. Yarp closed his eyes and bowed his head.

Erevan and Duor raced behind the throne to find Barper was not there. It was a simple thing for the elf and dwarf to locate the “secret”door. Simpler, still, to figure out how to open it.

With Coerraine and Fen, their spears at the ready, the dwarf thief opened the sliding stone panel and quickly moved aside. Behind the slab was a small, crudely crafted alcove, Chief Barper was huddling in a shaking ball of fear…surrounded by coffers and sacks and chests spilling over with gold and silver coins, gemstones, potion bottles, a couple of hilts sticking out of the bags. The chief had had the foresight to grab one of the blades from his trove and made a swipe at…well…nothing, covering his eyes to no see to heroes before him.

Coerraine raised an eyebrow at the druid. Fen burst into laughter.

Then there was a series of howls and barks as ten more kobolds raced into the chamber.

“I think not.” Alaria said, plainly.

Her fingers immediately began “weaving” her magic again and a simple phrase later, the lot of the charging creatures, including the unfortunate Cap’n Yarp were trapped beneath a layer of iridescent webbing.

Festus began skipping around the trapped kobolds, firing randomly into the mass of bodies and webs.

“One little, <pfft> two little, three little kobolds <pfft>…four little, five little <pfft> six little kobolds…” the satyr gleefully canted as he clip-clopped around the trapped creatures.

“Alaria?” Haelan practically whined at the wizard.

“Enough, Festus.” The magess proclaimed.

“Awwww.” The satyr leaned in close to one of the kobolds still alive, “and I was just starting to get my groove on. You should thank the nice lady.”

“Thanks lady! Thanks you’s! Thanks lady!” cries went up from all of the surviving kobolds within the magical web. Only Yarp’s, of course, were understood in the Common tongue.

Coerraine unceremoniously dragged Barper out by his blue caped collar and tossed him in front of Alaria.

The chief cowered before the magess.

“What you’s want? What you’s want?! ” the chief sputtered. “Give you’s Yarp?” he said with a smile. Kurn translated in between chuckles.

“Hey!” protested Yarp from within the webbing.

“The Hargak,” Alaria repeated, “is gone. You will take what people you have. You will leave this mine. You will NEVER come here again nor EVER harass the people of Shafton again. If you do…WE will come back and NONE will stay our wrath. Do you understand?” Alaria said imperiously.

Kurn translated, again trying to feign fear in the face of the great wizard.

“What’s a Shafton ?” Barper questioned innocently.

“Feorn’s Beard! Can I just kill him now!?!” Duor roared.

“Go! NOW!” commanded Alaria.

Barper barked and yipped at his guards who were thanking whatever gods kobolds have as the magical webbing faded. The guards initially ran to the secret treasure room only to find a large red-tabbarded human and green-cloaked man, both with spears pointed at them.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Duor said with all of the smug-ness he could muster. The dwarf crossed his arms and sneered at the canine-reptilian creatures.

They darted away, passed Yarp, passed Barper and ran as fast as their little clawed feet could carry them down the passage that led to the cavern with the lake.

“I suggest you follow them.” Alaria nodded to Barper. The chief held his silver crown close to his head and slunk toward the passage.

“And what, Barper?” Alaria called over her shoulder.

“Nevers comes back .” The kobold chief said under his scarred snout. Kurn translated and Alaria smiled and nodded to show the chief she agreed with what he’d said.

Duor turned his attention to counting the surprising amount of loot these kobolds had…with Coerraine over his shoulder and, eventually, Haelan and Kordun also helping.

steeldragons said:

What did you appreciate about the fight with the piercers? Not sure I understand that. But glad you liked it.

Just wait til they get to the Hargak (coming soon)...hope you like that as much. lol.

Click to expand...

The description of the monsters and the way you wrote their confusion and the chaos of the resulting fight. It's kind of an oddball monster -- one of many -- but iconic D&D. Always nice to see them getting some use along the way.

The Hargak fight was more interesting to me for the party's reaction than anything else. The paladin arguing to execute the evil monsters, while most of the rest of the party was willing to let them live as long as they left. Makes an interesting contrast with their dealings with the kobolds that double-crossed them -- there was no question of mercy or quarter in THAT fight.

Although I'm shocked that they let the chieftan live, in the end. I was expecting him to buy a crossbow bolt in the back.

The party descended back to the cavern chamber. Duor quickly found the switch to cause the cave-in again. When they were sure all of the kobolds had come through, Duor set off the trap and blocked the passage to the cavern of the Hargak and the kobolds.

Kordun assured them that first order of business when he got some of the other miners was to create another to fully block off the passage. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.” Said the dwarf warrior-miner as he looked around the carved passage. “They’ve done a good bit of damage down here. Prolly have to close off other passages and reinforce others from the yappers’ shabby work.”

With some difficulty, the party managed to tote the treasure sacks and chests from the roper and kobolds up and out to first floor chamber where they’d fought the carrion crawler.

Thank Manat for the additional dwarves, Alaria thought to herself. Else it would have been quite the ordeal to get it all up at once.

Haelan went to stand near the side passage that had the lingering ghoul smell. He seemed troubled.

“Are we going to go down this way?” the daelvar asked.

Fen stood near the entryway and looked serious. “We did slay a lot of the creatures. But we have no way of knowing if we got them all.” The druid pointed out.

It was quickly agreed they would check out the passage. Kordun told them what to expect from the passage, but he and Kurn were assigned to wait in the chamber with the load of treasure. Duor and Festus, despite their volunteering to wait, were ushered into the passage ahead of the party.

They were only a short distance down before weapons were drawn and spells called to mind when they rounded a bend to see the back end of a green and purple, multi-legged body in the passage.

Tension eased when they were close to notice, the creature did not move. Its front half was squarely pressed into the floor beneath a ten foot long section of “wall” with sharpened saplings and stone spikes. Green ichor had oozed out and puddled all around the creature.

“Heh. Looks like it’s ‘crawler carrion’, now.” Duor joked, thoroughly pleased with his own wit.

“HA!” burst Festus quite by accident. The burst of laughter echoed down through the passage. The satyr received several disapproving looks from the human and elvish contingent of the party.

The odor of the ghouls had not lessened or increased, however. So the readied-party stayed a bit on edge as they climbed around (or in Duor’s case “over”, with a few good stomps on top of the trap) “Just to make sure.” The dwarf defended his actions to the questioning party.

Festus chuckled softly. He did like the dwarf’s style.

Shortly after the crawler’s corpse, they came to a small chamber containing a lift that only went down, as Kordun had told them they would. The platform for the lift was lost somewhere in the dark shaft below. None desired to make another descent and after Erevan and Duor listened carefully at the railed pit in the middle of the room, nodded that there was no strange noise coming from below.

They carried on down a smaller passage that struck out into the darkness heading west, “obviously freshly carved” according to Duor.

They came across several scatterings of small bones and half assembled skeletons. One half-eaten disembodied head proved to them all that they were kobold remains.

Duor spat on one skull. “Too bad the rest of yer ilk didn’t share yer fate.”

Festus relieved himself on another collection of bones. “Maybe you’ll think twice before assaulting Daenfrii and clashing swords with the Stormriders.” The satyr said to the newly dampened bones. He received no reply.

Alaria continued down the passage, ignoring the satyr’s utterly repugnant actions. She was accompanied by most of the party. Duor gave the satyr a high-five.

They moved with caution, Festus and Duor back in the fore to seek out other possible pitfalls and traps. After a while of slow-going, they saw the passage ended in a chamber, seemingly much older than “fresh construction” they’d been moving through. There were many bones scattered about. A cursory inspection by Erevan and Fen confirmed that some were kobold, others human.

As they moved into the narrow passage between the slightly arched walls, they realized they were in a catacomb. Slots in the walls to either side, three high, were carefully carved into the walls in neat rows. Between the slots, some of which contained tattered rags and scattered bones, others were sealed with at least partial slabs of stone which had not been disturbed. Etchings of the”Y” symbol of the goddess Desri and the “X” shaped symbol of hammers and chisels crossed, the holy symbol of the smith god, Dunric, lined the walls between the alcoves of the dead.

They were elegantly created and decoratively etched. Other sections of the stone walls bore prayers in Dwarven and Selurian writing.

“These must be the catacombs of the Dunrician shrine.” Haelan said quietly, voicing what many of them already suspected. “Could we have traveled so far within the mountain? I wish Kordun was here.” The Hilltender muttered distracted.

The whole area smelled of death only slightly overwhelmed by the “ghoul-stank.”

“We should not be here. Let the remaining dead rest in peace.” Coerraine said. “We should complete the circuit. If this is the catacombs beneath the shrine, we should be able to go up and out through here. We can double back through the mine entrance and collect Kordun and Kurn.”

“And our treasure, pally! Let’s not forget why we’ve been riskin’ life n’ beard through this hell-hole.” Duor said, still mirthful.

Things then got very serious very quickly.

Coerraine was tackled by a gaunt grey shape that fell on him from one of the upper slots. The paladin cried out in pain for a moment before the ghoul toxin seeped into his blood from the thing’s bite and froze his muscles and joints.

“Shite!” shouted Festus in alarm.

Another ghoul appeared at the edge of their flickering torchlight from further in the catacomb and lunged at the closest warm-blooded body it could.

Fortunately, that was Erevan. While the elf was knocked back by the creature’s swiping claws and the chilling pain ripped through his body, the Miralostae’s blood rejected the unearthly toxin and he was able to rip his finely crafted longsword from its scabbard before the ghoul could make another attack.

“Haelan!” cried Alaria as she stepped back behind the elf. Her mind searched through her remaining spells for something that might help. She had, somewhat foolishly in hindsight, she thought, expended more magic on the kobolds than was probably wise.

Fen’s spear tip flared with its green glow as the druid angrily stabbed into the creature attacking Erevan. His aim was somewhat off as he fought to stay the rumbling in his stomach form the creature’s foul scent.

The nimble grey-skinned creature avoided the blow. The other, atop Coerraine’s frozen form, ignored strikes from Festus’ curved falchion and Duor’s missed swipe of his ethereal dagger.


Instead, it chose to rip into the fallen Redstar to get to more of the sweet warm red blood. Coerraine’s eyes teared up in agony, since his body utterly refused to even make a sound.

“HAELAN!!!” Alaria shouted again at the halfling.

The daelvar priest had heard her the first time, but was engrossed in mustering the divine might of his goddess. Finally, the Hilltender raised the amulet from around his neck and called up Faerantha’s glory to push these abominations from Her holy presence.

The medallion flared with the golden light, as it had a couple of nights before, and then burst forth from the halfling in all directions. The area surrounding the party was filled again with the scent of pine trees and fertile soil.


But there was something else.


Haelan could feel the pressing of evil upon him in the deep enclosed space...it “fought” his invocation in a way he had not been pressed upon in his last “turning.”

The ghouls were all but thrown from the area ensconced in the cleric’s holy power. One behind them. One before. Neither more than ten feet away from the party and the light. They did not dare come closer, but neither did they flee as Haelan (and Alaria and pretty much everyone else) had hoped.

“There’s…something here…it tries to block Faerantha’s grace.” Haelan said strained.

“Well done, Haelan. We just need a bit more time.” Alaria assured the cleric.

Erevan cast the spell of energy darts and a blue-green shard of energy shot forth from him to squarely strike the ghoul ahead of them. A small scorch mark and wisp of smoke on the creature’s chest was all that remained a moment later. It opened its impossibly long jaw and flared its thick long purple tongue at the party with a howl of defiance.

Festus and Duor had taken back to their bows for the creature waiting behind them outside the sanctified area. It cried and howled as it also took to the walls, even scurrying up onto the ceiling shrieking unknown curses at the satyr and dwarf. Most of the bolts missed or skidded off the creature’s greasy flesh.

“Could use some o’ that holy mojo juice fer the weapons, hairfoot.” Duor shouted unceremoniously.

“It…shall…not…succeed.” Haelan said completely unaware of the actions that occurred around him. The devout daelvar’s mind and faith felt as though under a weight. The strength of the Hillmother would not be crushed by so simple and vile a force. He would not allow it.

Fen called forth his ball of flame and launched it from the leaf-shaped spear, like it were a sling.


It struck the waiting ghoul before Erevan and himself and the creature hopped and scurried up onto the walls and rolled about on the floor for a moment before finally crouching to the ground and staring menacingly at the druid. Its skin was severely blistered and blackened, but it was still ‘alive.’

Then, barely entering the light behind the burned ghoul came a black robed figure. It was lanky and hooded, but bore a skull face-mask that covered the figure’s face down to the nose. Two long fangs protruded down either cheek. The glint of living eyes reflected the flickering light of the torches and Haelan’s holy glow behind the bone eye-sockets.

The figure raised its arms and chanted in some language none of the party understood. It was twisted with corruption and dripped with the taint of evil. It was like some inverted form of the Old Selurian used by priests.

“Suetssssid maleviiiicaaa, sarap meit suolsss, Endore ssresssstim!” <cleric spell: Curse (reversed Bless) “Curse these interlopers, reap their souls, Mistress Endore.” >

The air around the party seemed to dim. The holy glow of Haelan’s medallion flickered and then went out. The halfling was shaken to his knees, defeated and exhausted. With the loss of the Hilltender’s holy presence, all of the party felt a weight upon them. Not physically, but a weight on their souls, for no better way of putting it. The catacomb seemed darker than before, despite the torches. More foreboding.

“Haelan, our weapons! You must bless the weapons!” Festus shouted, surprising himself at his presumption of commanding one of the Stormriders.

The satyr was barely able to get the sentence out before the ghoul he and Duor had been targeting leapt back into the fray. The satyr dove/tumbled to avoid the ghoul’s elongated arms that tried to sink its claws into him. The hoofed ranger came to a standing stance between the ghoul and still incapacitated paladin.

Duor climbed one of the walls up to one of the second alcoves. He gripped the lip with one hand and re-drew his glowing dagger, which lent its eerie green smokey light to the gloom that had descended on the area.

The other burned ghoul leapt straight for the accursed nature priest. One arm extending toward the druid and the other to the elf archer beside him.

Its one hand dug into the half-elf who felt the unnatural thing’s poisons course through his body. Unfortunately, his diluted elf-blood did not save him and Fen was able to mutter a curse even as the ghoul’s body came to land upon his spear and impale itself with its own weight. The druid and destroyed ghoul fell back in an unmoving heap.

The evil priest of the Plague Mistress raised its arms to its sides and again began to chant. Almost immediately, the bones scattered around the catacomb and even those still within their slots began to jostle and shift positions, pulling themselves together to form warped skeletal beings.

Alaria withdrew the Ihs Repahl from its pouch. There was no time for delicacy or creativity. With a thought, wind twirled around Alaria, raising dust and small chips of bone and tattered cloth. In the following second a blast of air moved through the narrow chamber striking the black-robed figure with the force of a battering ram.

The lanky figure immediately was thrown from its feet and disappeared into the darkness before them. Breaking the cleric’s concentration (and Alaria hoped wounding him “at least a little?”) , the joining bones faltered and fell to the ground, inanimate.

Coerraine moaned and began rousing himself. His joints still felt like ice, but the creature’s effect was fading. He bled from a large gash in his back and another on his shield-arm shoulder. Weakly, he placed his other hand on his shoulder and through unsure lips murmured a prayer to Celradorn before again collapsing to the floor. The bleeding ceased, but the wounds remained evident and seemed to fester before the eye.

Festus was doing what he could to avoid the remaining ghoul’s attacks, knowing he couldn’t possibly stop the thing himself.

Duor dove off of the wall of the catacomb and sank his green-glowing dagger deep between the greasy grey flesh of the ghoul’s protruding shoulder blades. It screeched an unearthly sound and fell limp beneath the dwarf who quickly covered his nose and mouth with hand before becoming physically ill, finally overcome by the “ghoul-stank.”

“Haelan, quickly now.” Alaria shouted. “We must get that priest of Endore.” She looked behind her for the first time since the encounter began. “Oh, sorry. Are you ok? Coerraine!? Manat’s Star! Haelan can you heal him?! Fen? Fen!”

The druid, relieved of his undead burden by Erevan, was still unable to move and looked pleadingly at the Miralostae.

“Alaria, I fear we are in no condition to mount a hunt.” Erevan said plainly. He didn’t look up from the half-elf, but smiled weakly and nodded at Fen. “It will pass soon.” He said in elvin.

“If he gets away, we will have another horde of ghouls in Shafton in no time. Festus? Duor? You are unharmed? Come with me. The rest of you follow as you are able.” Alaria said in that commanding tone she sometimes adopted.

None could argue with her logic, though the satyr and dwarf looked at each other nervously.

The magess whispered a basic cantrip and light flared from the ironshod end of her staff. “Come on!” she shouted before she took off down the catacomb which ended abruptly at the foot of a staircase leading up.

Festus nodded, setting his face with a determined look.

“She likes me.” The satyr said with a sidelong wink to the still questioning dwarf. This caused Duor to smile despite himself as the two took off after the headstrong wizard.

The R’Hathi wizardess, the dwarven rogue and the satyr ranger raced up the narrow winding staircase to come to a closed door of old wood and iron bindings.

Duor listened at the door and, unspoken, indicated he did not hear any movement. His attempt to quietly shove the door open met with failure. It did not budge. After a quick once-over of the door Duor said it was bolted from the other side. He began to pull slender iron picks and another oddly shaped implement from a pocket on his side.

“We don’t have time for that.” Alaria said plainly.

“Noep.” <mage cantrip: Open> She said with a sliding motion before her. She hoped to the Blue Star the portal was not magically held or elaborately locked. She detested the possibility she would have to read the spell of opening (before she’d ever had a chance to use it!) from her book, as she did not currently have it memorized.

Thankfully, there was the sliding sound and a clunk of metal against metal.

Duor burst into the room with a flying somersault, followed by Festus, with blades blazing. The room was small with two stone tables within. A long side table of wood held various pots and ceramic containers.

The priest was not there. Another door led out of the room. It was not barred and opened to reveal another set of stairs, again leading upward.

The trio continued their pursuit up the narrow stairs.

They rounded a bend to see an open doorway before them before they saw nothing at all.

The light surrounding Alaria’s staff winked out and the three heroes stood in almost complete darkness. A trickle of daylight showed the way to the doorway, but only Duor with his dwarven darkvision was able to climb the unlit stairs without tripping at least once. Festus fare well enough with his own vision but Alaria had to follow the wall with her hand to climb the stairs.

<author/DM note: the priest's Darkness spell only served to snuff Alaria's Light. Thankfully. Else they would have all been totally blind. The priest was working under the assumption the whole party would be coming up with torches, and thus completely blinded.>

The three broke into the main shrine room.

The dark robed figure was racing for the outer door, weaving his way around the mess of workbenches and overturned furniture.

Duor immediately drew his nocked hand crossbow and let fly. The dart missed by an inch, harmlessly sinking into one of the overturned tables.

“Losec!” <mage cantrip: Close> Alaria quickly shouted, again mentally praying to the goddess of magic that the shrine’s doorway wouldn’t prove too weighty for her simple closing spell.

The door, only slightly ajar, slammed shut with a thud.

The priest stopped in his tracks and turned to face his pursuers.

Good, thought Alaria. He thinks he is trapped. In reality, the cantrip had simply closed the door not locked it. If the priest got to it, he could easily push it open.

Then, their ears were again assaulted with the corrupted tongue of evil and the priest invoked his undead goddess.

“Essressstim Endore, Surevvv miclon etne aetuuundshaaaa!” <cleric spell, Spiritual Weapon. “Mistress Endore, attack your enemies with your [un]holy weapon!”>

Immediately, a skull appeared before the priest, ensconced in dark violet flames. The thing streaked across the shrine. Duor avoided the flaming skull attack by ducking at the last moment behind one of the tables. Festus and Alaria, however, were not so lucky and bloth received blows from the spell as it arced its way through the room before returning to hover beside the priest. His smirk was obvious beneath the skull-mask that obscured the top of his face.

As if instinctual, Alaria free hand went to the crystal orb in her pouch. With the other, holding her staff, she extended her index and middle fingers as the power coursed through her body.

“Shaiir shahiir shaiiris” <mage spell: Mirror Image> she shouted across the once-holy place. The power filled her with that intoxicating feeling, somewhat less so than the webbing evocation, but she revelled in the coursing energies just the same.

Her form and, to her complete surprise, that of Festus and Duor flickered and glimmered and suddenly, the priest saw THREE mages, THREE satyrs and THREE dwarves with glowing green blades creeping out from behind a table!

The Plague priest flung his arm at them and the flaming skull again flew through the chamber. It stuck one of the wizards which immediately winked out of view and passed through one of the satyrs, which similarly dissolved before his eyes. Soon after the skull returned to the priest’s side it dissolved back into the cosmos.

A crossbow bolt landed in his upper arm and the priest cried out in shock and pain.

Now two satyrs and three dwarves were charging through the room toward him.

His lips seethed with the unholy tongue of his order. The satyr approached first and cut into him with its curved blade.

The priest reached out his hand and tightly gripped the attacking ranger. Red energy flared around the evil priests hand and the satyr cried out in pain before he was easily shoved aside. < cleric spell: Cause Light Wounds>

The priest backed up a step and grabbed one of the long discarded hammers from a bench near him. He readied to swing at the approaching dwarf.

Alaria pulled the orb from its pouch, ready to use it in her next attack when she heard Haelan’s small voice come from behind her.

“ Beatius Faerantha, benéfica spiritum con u guda rihvahlt!” <cleric spell: Hold Person. “Beatufiul Fearantha, bless your loyal follower with your power to halt/hold.”>

In mid-swing at Duor, the priest made a small “Erk” noise from his throat. In an instant, amber colored light surrounded him and seemed to coelesce into a solid form. The evil priest was forzen in place beneath a veneer of amber. His eyes shifted in their sockets behind the skull mask. He was utterly held.

Two Alarias, two Festus-es and three Duors turned to look at the doorway to see an amber glow fade from Haelan’s outstretched arm with a hand pointing at the priest.

“Taste the power of the Hillmother, villain.” The daelvar said satisfied in his faith and the power of his goddess. “Wow, Alaria…-as. Made your own party?” Haelan smiled.

“It tastes sweet, indeed. I am sure, good Hilltender.” Alaria smiled back. With a thought, she dismissed the illusions so only the originals stood where they were.

“It does, magess.” Haelan responded. “I like it.”

The rest of the party filtered up through the stairwell after the cleric.

Fen did not appear too well at all. The druid leaned heavily on Erevan. But his face was full of fury toward the undead-goddess’ cleric.

Coerraine had seen better days, but at least he was on his feet. He leveled his spear toward the wicked cleric. He knew, despite all of his own wishes, he could not run the priest through where he was stuck, enchanted.

At Healan’s instruction, the Redstar was shocked to find he could reach into the amber coating and remove the priest’s mask.

All of the party gasped to see revealed the face of the lone survivng “Dunrician acolyte.”

All of the party, except Duor, of course. The dwarf simply sheathed his blade and turned to the rest of the party. “I suppose we’re gonna hafta question him now?” the dwarf said, sounding disappointed.

“You’re a bad bad man, Nervel!” Haelan chastised the evil priest. “How could you leave Dunric for that unspeakable horror?”

The Endoren priest looked at the daelvar with nothing but contempt from his position, kneeling on the ground in the center of the circle of companions, tightly bound.

The evil cleric’s voice all but hissed through clenched teeth before beginning to rave, “You insipid imbecile. I was never one of the Smith’s. The Plague Mistress is mine. Forever unending, beyond life, beyond death. Endore will flay your souls from your husks and steep you in the burning juices of Her cauldron. Forever unending, beyond li-…”

SWAK!

The priest became silent and glared at the dwarf.

Duor rubbed his leather-gloved palm before looking at the disapproving party. “What?! He was gonna g’on with that gibberish fer who knows how long.”

“Are there any more ghouls?” Fen asked plainly.

The priest did not answer. He turned away to look at the floor.

Fen lifted his chin with the blade of his spear until the priest was again looking at the druid. “I do not share my companions respect for those who dabble in the unnatural.” The half-elf said acidly. He nudged the spear tip a bit closer to the priest’s neck.

The Endoren gaze was filled with hatred as he met Fen’s bright green eyes. “Now that I have your attention. Are..there…any…more..ghouls?” the druid asked coldly.

“No.” the priest said defeated. “You’ve slain them all. I was going to have to begin all over.”

“He is probably lying.” Coerraine said sternly.

“Yeah. We should just flay him now.” Festus chimed in, rubbing the burning bullseye-like red, black and purple bruise on his upper arm where the priest’s unholy spell had hurt him.

“Why were you here? What did you want with Shafton? What were you attempting to accomplish? To whom do you answer?” Alaria posed, attempting to direct the scene into a more reasonable light.

The priest began with a low grumbling chuckle that rose to a maniacal cackle. “You are all fools! What did I want with Shafton?! Who gives two damns about this backwater? I answer to my Mistress who will…”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Flay our souls’ n’ all that.” Duor interrupted. “The lady asked you who you answer to. Who’s your superior? What did they want here?”

“You will not defeat them. They will raze the free kingdoms to the ground. They will bring about the rise of my Mistress’ greatest achievement. You…you have no hope. You can not win.” The priest broke down into more insane chuckling.

“Alaria,” Coerraine began pleadingly, “if I may? We should just take him back to the village. Let him be brought to justice for the evil he has wrought here.” The blond Redstar Knight turned toward the priest, “Despite my most sincere wish to bring you Celradorn’s justice here and now.” He said firmly.

“Who is ‘them’?” Alaria asked. Concern was growing within her.

The insane chuckling continued as he responded, “They are here…heeheehee…Right now. Watching you. Hahaheeheeha…They are here. You will never win.” The evil cleric’s head lolled to the side and he seemed to be looking at something back behind the party, toward the altar.

“Arkanivis” Alaria said with the last of her cantrips for the day. Manat grant they meet no other trouble this day. For as high as she felt when casting her upper tiered spells, now she felt an equal “low” of impending exhaustion.

The magess’ eyes turned to peer where the cleric gazed with bulging eyes. Alaria was horrified to see the outline of a serpentine form circling the based of the alatar in the shadows beneath. The shadow snake was much larger than the ones she’d previously viewed entirely wrapping itself around the altar’s base.

Its red eyes glowed within her arcane vision, staring directly at the party. At her!

“We must go!” Alaria said to everyone’s surprise. “We must leave here. Tresahd is watching us.”

“Heh heh heh hahahahah ahhhheeheehee…You can not win.” The evil cleric cackled.

“Bring him.” Alaria said backing her way toward the doorway. She could not turn her gaze from the large serpentine form. “The villagers deserve justice…and I suspect they will let you carry it out, Coerraine.”

The party all left the shrine into the afternoon. Clouds had come over the mountains and shrouded the day in a hazy grey.

“Festus and Duor, go back up into the mine and fetch Kordun and Kurn.” Alaria suggested.

“Fetch?!” Duor burst in indignation.

“If you please.” Alaria said annoyed. “I am sorry, Duor, you are correct. Would you please go get your kin and meet us in the village at the Silver Platter.”

“That’s a mite better.” Said the dwarf, all smiles. “C’mon, Goldilocks. Gonna need yer brawn too.”

With that, the remaining party members descend back down the switchback road into town.

They were met with uporoars of cheers and applause from the villagers who saw them before noticing that they had the “acolyte” Nervel in black robes bound with them.

When the dwarf brothers with Duor, Coerraine and Festus came down some time after them and all was explained of their time in the mine, the Hargak, the expulsion of the kobolds and their subsequent capture of the evil priest.

It did not take long for a “council” of the remaining townsfolk agreed to have Coerraine put the cleric to death. Coerraine carried out his appointed position with neither ceremony nor remorse.

The rest of the evening was celebrated with the heroes illustrious return and success.

Kordun and Kurn were equally toted as heroes of the mine.

The companions offered them a modest share (10%) of the collected treasure. The dwarves eagerly and thankfully accepted their tithe.

The following day, two of their horses hitched up to a wagon laden with chests and sacks of coins, gems, weapons and other tidbits, the heroes sat back out for the keep of Bridgetower.

Alaria thought hard, in between detecting magical items among their treasure. Identifying them would have to wait until their return to Bridgetower. How would they raise the rest of the funds they required? Counting in Captain Rynthis’ fees of 1,200, they still had about 2,000 left to go.

There were now only thirteen days til their appointed deadline to raise Braddok

First, I hope everyone (who celebates the holiday) has a great Thanksgiving week/-end/holiday. I am hoping to have some time for a real post at some point before Thursday. If not, then we'll continue over the weekend.

But for now, here's a few loose ends that, if I hadn't been rushing out of the cafe at the time, would have been wrapped up at the end of the last post.

As always, thanks for the interest and reading about this lil' group from Orea. Have fun and happy gaming (gobble gobble)
--SD
------------------------------
Later in the evening the party returned from the mine, Sergeant Borse returned from Bridgetower with 10 guards, 2 Daughters of Gilea, another Redstar Knight and a cleric of Celradorn.

The Celradorn cleric came with a scroll on which was a Cure Disease he used on Fen.

Coerraine's paladinic "disease immunity" kept him from having to worry about the "ghoul fever"/transformation...But, Haelan being Haelan, insisted on tending his wounds with some "Blessed" water (not really official "holy water"...but I thought it was creative. So I awarded a couple of extra hit points to help him get back up to snuff.

Between the Daughters of Gilea and the Celradorn cleric, they were able to take care of the rest of the party's scrapes and bruises. So everyone, upon their return to Bridgetower is up to "full" on the HP-ometer and disease free.

Normally, the traitor priest would have been hung on the gallows-tree outside of town, near the cemetery. But given the whole "undeath" connection/thing. It waas decided decapitation and burning was more wise.

Now...the fun stuff...BOOTY!

All told, the party collected:
1,700 gp in assorted coins and gems/jewels
a pearl necklace - itself, worth 200 gp.
a jeweled broach/clasp of amber and jet worth 75 gp.
a pair of statuettes, apparently a set. One a serpentine dragon of onyx. One a golden topaz snake-like creature sporting a "mane" and wings of feathers. Alaria supposed they might be bookends. But they could stand as just decorative statues of their own. The set was worth 550 gp (200 for the onyx, 350 for the topaz)

MAGIC BOOTY! (note, none of this stuff other than potions was able to be identified until the group made it back to Bridgetower)
3 potions of extra-healing
1 potion of neutralize poison
1 potion of Strength
a ring of protection +1
a bracelet of 5 small amber-colored spheres (a bracelet of beads of force)
a short sword +1 (the blade with which Chief Barper had made his pathetic attempt at an attack...yea, sometimes the DM rolls a 2, too.
3 arrows +1
1 arrow, thicker/larger than the others, that contained a strange enchantment they could not pinpoint.
1 longsword +1
1 curved dagger/knife of a curious dull dark-grey/"black" metal. The resident mage of Bridgetower -whose name escapes me at the moment- was able to discern the metal as either "adamantite" or "star metal" (assuming they are two different things), both are exceedingly rare. It gave off a curious dweomer that couldn't be entirely identified. Though it was determined does +2 to hit and damage despite whatever else it might do.

With this bountious...um...bounty. The party returned to Bridgetower.

Gathering the 1,200gp promised by the Captain. The group is at a (purely wealth) total of 2,725 (check my math, though I'm terrible at math when the papers aren't in front of me) of the 5,000gp they need to raise Braddok. With, well after returning to Bridgetower, 12 days to go until their deadline.

It was suggested by some party members, with reluctance, that a few of the magic items be "sold" back at Bridgetower to increase their funds.

Anything else/questions/comments/stuff I'm forgetting? Let me know.
Cheers.
--SD

The party, washed and refreshed from their travel, entered the grand hall of Bridgetower. On the dais in an elegantly crafted chair of dark wood sat the Lady Elhianne. A larger higher-backed chair was empty beside her.

She appeared a vision in a gown of sky blue silk trimmed in delicate swirls of white lace, resembling clouds. She wore a single ring set with a large sapphire on her right hand. A simple band of gleaming silver circled her head to contain the twirling blond hair that cascaded passed her shoulders.

Alaria found herself envious of the woman’s natural beauty and elegance. The R’Hathi mage felt plain before her. She had expended a few cantrips to remove the dust of the road from herself, Coerraine and Haelan. Erevan, of course, was ever-graceful. The elf never seemed dirty or haggard, Alaria noticed distinctly. Duor, even with magical assistance, still seemed ruddy and road-wary. Festus had washed himself and changed his travel cloak for the blue and grey striped cloak of the Bridgetower guard.

The companions strode through the hall with their heads high and bowed at various depths before the Lady of the Tower. Servants scurried in the wings to either side, setting tables for the evening meal and lighting the candles and sconces that lined the chamber.

“Hail and well met, heroes.” Elhianne said with a broad sparkling smile. “We are so glad to attend your triumphant return. The news brought by Sergeant Borsem was most troubling. I trust all is now resolved?”

“It is, milady.” Coerraine responded to Alaria’s mild surprise. “The foul curse of Shafton has been lifted.”

“That is wonderful news, sir Goldshield. My husband sends his apologies he cannot meet you, as was his desire. He is in conference with his lieutenants at all hours these days. The battle has been joined at the south edge of Miralosta, as he tells me. The Lordmage’s forces are all being filtered and deployed through Bridgetower and my lord Captain is kept very busy. But we would be most gratified if you would dine with us, this evening and relay the whole of your adventure.”

“We thank you, Lady Elhianne, for the honor and gratefully accept.” Alaria returned. “We would offer you these spoils of our adventure, gifts for you and our lord Captain, in gratitude for Bridgetower’s abundant aid.”

She turned and nodded at Festus who then walked forward with a small velvet pillow they’d “borrowed” from the ante-chamber. Upon the pillow was the string of pearls and the topaz feathered servant statuette.

Elhianne smiled and took the pearls into her hands. “These are lovely, Alaria.” The lady’s eyes took in the lustrous beauty of the necklace and the fine craftsmanship of the statue of the curious creature.

“My lord and husband has told me of your quest to reclaim your fallen companion. It is a most noble cause which I would be thankful to hear fulfilled.” Elhianne paused for a moment before replacing the pearls upon the pillow.

“The gratitude is ours to give, Stormriders, for your aid to our home and lands. I cannot, in good conscious, deprive you of such valuable jewels when they could aid your cause in no small way.” Elhianne nodded to a couple of guardsmen standing near the dais.

Two guards came forward. Each lugged a handle of a chest of lacquered dark wood set with a silver clasp between them.

“If you will indulge my conscience, I bid you take this in exchange for your gracious gifts.” Elhianne finished.

The guards lifted the top of the wooden box to reveal it filled with gold coins. [600 in all]

“Truly, my lady, the graciousness of Bridgetower knows no bounds.” Alaria said in breathy surprise. <author/DM note: I believe the response from the players was something along the lines of “Lady Elhianne ROCKS!” “Bridgtower is AWESOME!” and other, less polite but similarly complimentary, exclamations> “Our thanks, lady.”

Elhianne smiled, happy to see her intended gift (which had now become a trade) to the worthy troupe well-received. “Now, let us sup and you will tell me all of the exploits of your great adventure. Your time here will be short, I suppose and I do so enjoy your copy.”

With that the party sat and dined and extolled the Lady Elhianne with their time in Shafton. The Lady listened eagerly, fully enraptured with the moments of heroism and danger. She was especially taken with the telling of Haelan’s turning the ghouls and impressed with the compassion of their decision with the monstrous “Hargak.” She visibly jumped when Festus slammed his hand upon the table at dramatic moments as he relayed the incident with the falling piercers.

Near the end of the meal, the Lady of the Tower took a moment to instruct a servant to take a plate of venison and potatoes to her lord husband in his office. She turned to Alaria. “Else he would never eat.” She said with soft smile in that “one woman to another” kind of way.

Duor, none too subtly, asked Elhianne if she knew anything about the “dragon treasure” in the Feldmere.

Elhianne laughed politely. “Alas, master Duor, my schooling does not extend into such things. I have heard the songs and tales, of course…as have all in these lands. But to aver their veracity is beyond me.”

Erevan asked the Lady if she knew of anyone in Bridgetower or Dragonwing Vale who might be interested in the “trading or purchasing” some of their other teasures, including those of an arcane nature.

Elhianne thought for a moment. “Hmmm. With this, perhaps I can help you. In Bridgetower, now all is concerned with battle and weapons and other unsavory things. I fear trade has all but stopped, even in the short time you have been away. There has been no traffic from outside of Daenfrii since shortly after your first coming to us.

“However, my sister, the Lady Dauphinne <”doh-fin-eh”> maintains a position in the Lordmage’s court.” She turned to Alaria again, as if to say to her alone, “She is married to one of the lieutenants in the Lordmage’s personal guard. He is a noble sort, if not as handsome as my Rynthis.” Elhianne concluded with a wink.

Clearly, thought Alaria, the Lady Elhianne was sorely in need of the company of other courtly women.

The Lady continued to the table at large, “She does enjoy collecting items of art and beauty and has a small talent for sorcery, herself.”

She turned for another aside, this time to Coerraine, “Which practically all of the court does, of course.”

Elhianne returned her attention to her plate and concluded with, “Yes, Dauphinne may be a good place to start.” She took a dainty forkful of the glazed carrots that remained on her plate. She chewed delicately and swallowed before continuing.

Haelan listened attentively while reloading his plate with more meat and bread that sat before him.

“There is also an archivist in the Keep, Felton. He was tutor to my sister and I…and before us, I am told, the belated Dragonmagess. Merciful Mother bless her. He is quite knowledgeable in all manner of topics and no doubt would know who in the Vale might be of service to you.”

She took a sip from the gem encrusted goblet before her. A servant immediately appeared and refilled it with the sweet golden elfvine before she set the goblet down.

Alaria also took a polite sip from her unadorned goblet. “If I may, my lady…” Alaria began.

“Alaria, call me Elhianne. Please. It has been long since I’ve had a lady of quality in my company. We are near as sisters, I feel, and would not have titles between us.” The lady said unexpectedly.

Alaria was surprised but managed a polite smile. “As you wish, my…eh…Elhianne. I am honored.

“But, if I may and it does not trouble you, what became of the belated Dragonmagess?” Alaria felt this information may be relevant for them in the future. The wizard hoped it would be well-received, being the closest thing to lady-like “gossip” she could think of…Not to mention Alaria, being Alaria, was simply curious.

Elhianne put down her fork and exhaled. A look of pity crossed her face. “Oh, Alaria, it is a sad tale.”

“If it upsets you, please do not…” Alaria tried to back track, not wishing to sadden their gracious hostess.

“No. No. It does not. But it is a lamentable tale. I was only a girl. Nearing my tenth birthday. The princes were only seven and five. My father was a captain with the Vale guard and we lived just outside the Keep in a fine townhouse. It was a glorious time in Daenfrii. Late spring. The fields and gardens were filled of blooms, the air was sweet and clean with their perfume.” She chuckled to herself. “Whether that is entirely true or the rosy shade of childhood memory, I do not know.”

Elhianne took a moment to take another sip from her goblet before continuing.

“Well, the Dragonmagess, as of course you know, was a formidable wizardess. She had a beauty and a strength…as all of the Dragonmages do, of course. With such compassion and kindness. Dauphinne and I were raised among courtly women. We are distant cousins, you know? Three times removed from the Dragonwing line…on our mother’s side.

“But I digress…That day, the air turned bad. Sulfur and smoke filled the senses and burned the eyes. The Keep all but erupted in flame and everything turned to chaos.

“It seems a demon had been summoned forth by one of Daenfrii’s enemies and sent to lay waste to the Vale.” The lady’s eyes seemed to glaze over as she slid back into her memories of the dark day.

“Within the Keep, all of the children and ladies were herded from one chamber to the next, climbing higher and higher in the great tower. We raced ahead of the creature…we ran so fast…until we came to the grand hall…it bellowed through the whole Keep…”

The party did not interrupt as the lady again composed herself with a long sip of elfvine.

“The thing, whose name even now I will never dare to utter, left death and burning in its wake. It crushed through the gates. It decimated the waves of guards, whether they bore arms or spells.
Our father fell…” the lady’s story trailed off.

“Elhianne, I am so sorry.” Alaria offered. She gently placed her hand on the Lady’s. It quivered beneath her touch.

Elhianne smiled at the magess. “Many died, that day, Alaria…so many…

“We huddled behind the Seat of the Dragon…um…the throne of the Dragonmage in the grand hall…where the Vale’s magical protections are strongest.

“Selaina [the Dragonmagess] was there. The princes, Montor and Malac had been brought to the hall also with their guard of wizards and warriors. The lordmage, Arganor, was there.

“She had taken up the Staff of Wyr, of course, and readied to fight the creature.

“They thundered their way through the halls. I’ve never…the magic she commanded and the power the creature summoned…your hair stood on end. The air was charged with the stuff. I’ve never experienced the like before or since…nor would I ever wish to.

“The wizards and warriors fell by the handful. Our Lordmage Arganor had expended himself beyond his means and was near death…Selaina…the Dragonmagess…knowing something beyond our ken, used her power to transport all of us, including her fallen husband, out of the hall to the lower courtyard outside the keep gates.

“It is said, the young prince Montor was the last to be swept up in the arcane whirlwind…naturally. He is the Dragonmage-apparent, after all. They say, the poor little prince watched his mother fall.

“In that final moment, the creature made its final assault, wishing to end the line of Dragonwing there and then…but Selaina would not be felled. She used the dragon magics and the Staff of Wyr to destroy the creature…or banish it.” Elhianned smiled weakly, “It depends on who is telling the story.

“The cost of doing so consumed her in the eldritch power and she was lost to us…but Daenfrii and her family…She saved us all.” Elhianne finished, attempting to conclude on a positive note.

Elhianne and several of the companions took a long draw of their drinks in the silence of the finished tale.

“So, Arganor was healed. His strength in the aftermath was amazing. Were it not for him, I doubt Daenfrii would be as strong as it is today. He rules, as Lordmage of Daenfrii, until such time as Lord-prince Montor takes up the Staff of Wyr and fulfills the destiny of his birthright.” Elhianne added, attempting to move the conversation back into the “now” and out of the tragic day.

Haelan’s voice broke the silent hall. “Is there any more of that delightful mince pie?”

“More ale here.” Said Duor in a commanding tone.

Festus, also looking to lighten the mood, stood and raised his mug. “Indeed. More ale! More elfvine! A toast to our most gracious Lady! To our most esteemed Lord Captain. To Lordmage Arganor and the line of Dragonwing! To Daenfrii!”

"To Daenfrii!" the hall resounded in cheer.

At this, all stood and raised their glasses (except Elhianne, of course, as she was included in the toast). The rest of the evening proved most light and they spoke no more of the belated Dragonmagess.

That night, Alaria was roused by a very apologetic page-boy. It was Rynthis’ manservant. Alaria realized through sleep=filled eyes that she recognized the young man. Captain Rynthis was requesting her presence in his office.

“What is the hour?” alaria said sleepily as she grabbed her traveling cloak to wrap around the sleeping gown she’d taken from the armoire in the chamber she’d been assigned.

“Just passed midnight, mistress. The captain said it was urgent.” The youth replied.

She followed the candle baring youth through the tower halls to Rynthis’ office where the large oaken doors stood ajar.

Rynthis sat at his desk engrossed in the parchment in his hand. The desk top was covered with papers. The chamber lit by scores of candles that burned low, nearly spent. He lifted his dark circled eyes from the parchment and smiled weakly.

“Thank you, Timothy.” He said. The exhaustion was evident in his voice.

“My apologies for summoning you at so late an hour, Alaria. But we’ve received word from the front that I thought you needed to hear.”

“Not at all, my lord. What can I do for you?” Alaria said as she took the seat offered by the captain.

“The battle at Miralosta’s southern edge goes harder than expected.” The captain began. “They have breached the wood and make their way, albeit slowly, to Ayla Nirai.

“It seems, by the reports, there are several Endoren priests among the enemy. Goblins and orcs and ogres that are felled and not utterly destroyed have been seen again in the battles. Brought to unnatural life. The elvish sorcerers are being bested by other arcane-casters of obvious power and dark intent.

“There is one, in particular…the report describes him as bearded and swathed in black robes with a dragon skull upon his head. He is able to wreak much destruction, even from his position at the rear of the advance. He rides upon a war-chariot pulled by two black mastiffs, the size of oxen, with tongues and eyes that lick with flame.” Rynthis looked at Alaria.

The expression on her face was all of the confirmation he needed, but he posed the question anyway.

“Is this the dark wizard which you encountered?”

“It is Tresahd. It must be.” Alaria nodded. Concern crossed her face as she thought about the mage who had been keeping her under surveillance.

“Two separate strike forces attempting to assassinate him were utterly thwarted and decimated. No survivors.” The captain added.

“I am sorry to hear, my lord. But I am not certain how I can help you?” Alaria said.

“The newest report, and the reason I’ve called you here, is that the elves noted the wizard, who they’ve dubbed ‘the Black Drake’, breaking from the line and moving east. The concern is he is on his way here…or more distressing, he seeks to enter Daenfrii directly from the wood, behind us.

"Do you have any insight or knowledge of this mage’s ability? Anything that might give us an edge to counteract his magics? We know he has delivered terrible attacks with fire…and, allegedly, the conjuring of some small demons…but little else”

“You know as well as I, my lord. If he is conjuring fires, he may well be capable of the Fireball spell. The small spell of Burning Hands, which I myself am capable of…perhaps he can conjure a Wall of Fire?

“I am sorry, but we did not engage Tresahd when we encountered him on Dragonbone Isle.” Nor did we slay his blasted hellhounds, Alaria thought to herself. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was time to listen to Coerraine regarding the slaying of evil creatures when they were found instead of letting them be. Another, horrid memory came to Alaria’s mind.

“Captain Rynthis, does the report say anything about him wielding a staff? A staff with a large red gemstone?” Alaria silently prayed to Manat that they did not. She very much hoped the dark mage did not hold the Fire Staff of Nator and/or the Fehs Repahl.

“They say nothing of a staff, no. Why?” the captain questioned.

Alaria waved away the inquiry. “Just a thought. It is not important. Something Rhea once told me.”

The captain, tired though he was, managed a chuckle. “Little the Emerald Lady says is ‘unimportant’. But, I will trust you in this since the reports mention no red stones.”

“I can tell you, if it is indeed Tresahd, that he is capable of the conjuring of shadow snakes.” Alaria noted, hoping this information would help.

Rynthis placed a hand on his bearded chin and rubbed. “Shadow snakes, you say? That is something, at least….Do you know what variety?”

“I am sorry, I do not. Other than Rhea said they were the least of their kind…used for observation, I believe. I fear I am not versed in much of conjuration…nor the use of shade magics.” Alaria quirked a half grin at the obvious fact she would not know about the dabblings of such evil sorcery.

Rynthis nodded and “hmm’d.” The seneschal was lost in thought and missed Alaria’s attempted humor.

“Well, if he is making for Bridgetower, what do you suspect of his purpose?” the captain offered.

“I fear, my lord, that he may well be after me.” Alaria said plainly.

“Well yes, you…or rather that orb of yours?” the captain posed.

Alaria nodded. “Yes, the orb, specifically. It is…if I may posit…there was something we heard in our travels before arriving here…but, what do you know about Sharzaak?” Alaria said.

“Sharzaak? Ah yes, Stenthil told me of his discoveries. Do you really think the goblin army is after the Eye of Arinane?” Rynthis said somewhat skeptically. The idea of the goblin army stabbing so far into the elf kingdom was still quite unlikely to his military mind.

“If Stenthil’s supposition of the Repahlentim is correct, my lord. I do, in fact, fear that may it be so. If this orb I carry is the Wind Soul…which Tresahd seems very eager to keep an arcane eye on…and the rantings of a goblin captive we once had are to be believed…it may well be that Tresahd is seeking to bring about the raising of the ancient wyrm.” Alaria was fearful to even suggest such a thing.

The captain’s face became grim as he spoke. “The presence of the priests of the Plague Mistress may well be indication this is correct.” He paused in thought once more. “I can not even imagine the power required to bring about such a feat. Repahlentim or no…but, at this stage, I suspect it cannot be dismissed.”

“I, too, had hoped for some other explanation. But the evidence that seems to reveal itself to me leads to little other conclusion.” Alaria replied. She realized it was time to share her fears with the rest of the company.

“Thank you, Alaria. I have kept you long enough. I will relay your…our concerns to the Vale tomorrow and see what might be done.” Captain Rynthis said.

“How long do you plan to remain in Bridgetower, Magess?” the captain asked as Alaria rose to take her leave.

“We are under a deadline, my lord. I do not wish to remain more than tomorrow.” Alaria said. Especially is Tresahd is heading this way, she admitted to herself. She knew it was now even more imperative that she get the Ihs Repahl into the safekeeping of the Vale of the Dragonmage.

“Well, as I hope you know, you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. You are blocked from Tresahd’s serpents here. And, of course, we will do all in our power to keep you and that orb safe.

“Though, admittedly, the barrier enchantments of Dragonwing Keep are the greatest in the outer realms.” He added.

“Good night to you, Magess.” The captain said before Alaria could reply.

“Good night to you, Captain. I am sure the Lady Elhianne would bid me send you to your chambers for a needed rest.” Alaria replied with a smirk.

Rynthis smiled. “Indeed she would, Magess. You are quite correct. Soon, I promise.”


The following day, the companions broke fast together and discussed their options and Alaria’s meeting with the Bridgetower captain. Festus was not with them, being put about his duties as a Bridgetower guard.

“We’re still a couple of thousand short for the raising.” Noted Duor. “I say we go dragon horde hunting.”

None expected anything less from the greedy rogue.

“If Tresahd is heading this way, shouldn’t we get the orb to the Keep, as Rhea instructed?” questioned Haelan between mouthfuls of porridge and ham.

Coerraine concurred. “The Vale is only two days travel, is it not? The wizard is mortal, even if his demon-beasts are not. He will need to stop for rest and we are easily a day closer than he.”

Fen spoke up about something that had been troubling him since they’d left the Laklans. “With this news of the undead priests among the enemy, I am concerned for the community at Welford Downs. They were experiencing some strange goings on when we left, nearly a month ago. And then there was a presence of the Plague Mistress in Shafton. Can it be coincidence?” the druid posed.

Several of the companions nodded their agreement that it very well may not be coincidence.

Erevan posed that perhaps their abilities would be useful, and more of their fee to the Desriite temple to be made, in the defense of his homeland.

“There’s coin t’be made in war, point-ear, make no mistake.” The dwarf agreed. But continued, “Unfortunately, none o’ that money is on the front lines. And what is...fer mercenaries and the lot...waits til the end of the war to see.”

“But will there be money to be made in the Vale?” asked Haelan innocently as he grabbed a hunk of bread to wipe the bowl of his porridge. He did not notice the scowl from Duor at being countered.

“Our good Hilltender has a point.” Fen said. "It seems the Vale of the Dragonmage may be the place least in need of protection for ten leagues."

Alaria finally spoke up. “We will think on it. For now, we all have duties to attend today and make ready to leave on the morrow. I am prone to wish to continue to the Vale with all speed, as I told Rhea we would. Not to mention, with Tresahd heading this way, it is likely the safest place for us to be.” Alaria proposed. She was a bit surprised how cowardly the last statement sounded. But it was true…and pragmatic.

“We shall take a vote at supper, tonight. Til then,” Alaria rose from her seat with a final swig of tea, “you may find me in the library with Master Stenthil. Good day to you all.”

The other companions bid their magess a good day in return and one by one set about their business.

The rest of the day went by quietly for most of the company.

Alaria, with the aid of Stenthil and his apprentice Devrim, went about identifying the magical items they’d brought back from Shafton.

Erevan came and spent part of the day helping them and then did a bit of transcribing before going down into the open area of the keep to replenish his quiver. The demands of the troops made the fletcher apologetically tell the elf he would not be able to fill his order for at least another day.

Erevan took the opportunity to offer his own services as a bowyer/fletcher. With the elf’s aid, not only did he replenish Erevan’s quiver, but was able to finish off two others and complete three partially begun longbows before the dinner bell.

The fletcher, a man by the name of Jurek, was very grateful to the Miralostae and promised him a quiver-full “on the house” once the current situation had abated. Erevan was grateful for the offer.

Duor took Coerraine to the smith. The paladin’s armor needed repair after his run in with the ghouls beneath the Dunrician shrine. “Cain’t have my personal Goldshield lookin’ shabby in the Dragonmage’s court, now can I?” the dwarf said in good humor.

"I suppose not." admitted Coerraine. "Though I was more concerned with, you know, protecting you effectively." the Redstar amended with some irritation.

Haelan trailed along with the dwarf and Redstar. He also wanted some work done on his armor, but also wanted to check on something he’d set the smith to before they’d left for Shafton. “It’s a surprise.” Haelan said with his signature broad smile.

The smith regretted not having the “surprise” done for the Hilltender, but promised it the following morning.

Haelan agreed that was acceptable. “But I must have it tomorrow morn.” He added.

“To be sure, little master. By Dunric’s own forge, I promise.” The smith smiled in return and set to looking at the Redstar’s armor.

Coerraine wanted to give a report to his surperiors, as was customary within the order. He was mildly disappointed to find the Lightlance and all of the other Redstars had been dispatched to the battle in Miralosta (other than the cleric and paladin sent to Shafton).

The blond Redstar Knight decided to spend the remainder of the day in solitary meditation. The troubling business with the Hargak still weighed upon the Goldshield’s heart and he sought a penance, if his Lord and God deemed it so.

Fen went and secured the company a wagon and mounts for their journey to the Vale…which assumed would be their next move. With Haelan’s permission, the carrot-topped half-elf took the giant ferret, Buttercreamshadowfeet, with him.

The ferret seemed more than happy to follow the druid. Sniffing her way along wherever they went. At one point, Fen had to chastise the creature for sticking her nose into a bushel of apples at the keep’s fruit vendor. The farmer was more scared of the creature than angry. Fen threw the farmer a couple of silver pieces “for any inconvenience.”

About midday, the druid’s attention was caught by a particularly blue jaybird. He followed the creature outside of the keep’s walls some distance into a copse of trees, almost completely devoid of their autumn leaves.

Buttercream excused herself to sniff and crunch along through the undergrowth.

When they were adequately concealed from any possible onlookers the jay transformed into the lithe form of Sister Sage.

<translated from the Druidic tongue>

“Greetings, Sister Sage. What can I do for the Mouth of Moonglade this day?” Fen opened, sure to keep his eyes on the ground before his superior.

“Greetings, Brother Fen. The Lord of Ash sends his regards and his compliments at disposing of the undead threat in Shafton.” Sage returned with all ceremony.

“The destruction of abomination is tantamount to the Balance. I did no differently than any of our Brothers or Sisters would have done.” Fen replied, though inwardly enjoyed the praise.

“You did indeed. However, that was not your purpose...Or have you forgotten?” Sage said somewhat more sternly.

“I am sorry, sister. Events more pressing came to light. The companions with which I travel have their own agendas and, it seems, attending to Bulgruch is not one of them for the immediate time being.” The younger druid attempted to explain.

“Events shall always arise in the realms of Men, Fen. The concerns of Men are not Ours.” Sage responded.

Fen was unable to tell if this was a chastisement or a simple statement of fact.

“It matters not. You have failed in that task. The Bulgruch has penetrated Miralosta. Though it is still somewhat distant from its purpose.” Sage admitted.

“If I may, Sister, what is the Bulgruch? What is its purpose? At our last meeting, you said Moonglade was close to comprehending.” Fen dared to question.

“Correct.” Sage replied. “The creature calling itself Bulgruch is a demon…or a demonically mixed being.”

“A demon! I am afraid, sister, that I am not high enough up the Tree to deal with such an affront to the Balance!” Fen said in some panic. Fen’s eyes rose in surprise. He quickly lowered his eyes again and readied himself for another disciplining at the breach of protocol.

“It is alright, Fen. You may gaze upon me. It has been determined that your purpose must be allowed to…some sway…as the Willow.” Sage said with more reassurance than Fen expected.

The half-elf slowly looked up to the woman, sheathed as he was, in the sacred cloak of the order. The crescent-moon-set-within-a-sun symbol of the Ancient Order of Mistwood clasped her cloak. Her leaf-tip spear bore a different shape, but still leaf-like, than Fen’s own. The woman’s large round eyes, a deep chestnut brown to rival any doe’s, seemed to look through her pupil.

“I thank you for the honor, Sister. What does it want in Miralosta?”

“It seeks the destruction of all of the elves it can, of course. But more specifically, the Lord of Ash has deemed me worthy to tell that he suspects the ultimate goal is the Eye of Arinane.” Sage reported.

“The Captain of Bridgetower and my companions had feared as much.” Fen replied. “But…Sister, are the concerns of Elves any more important to us than the concerns of Men?” Fen questioned, sincerely perplexed.

“It is not the elves that concern us. Nor their artifact. But what might be done once the jewel is in the hands of evil.” Sage began. “For the elves, the Eye is a powerful magical source, yes. But more importantly, it is an…anchor…a root of their heritage. An artifact of their very being. In their hands, it stands as a symbol of their magic and their kind. It is…innocuous to the Balance.”

Fen nodded his understanding.

“To the Bulgruch and the forces of evil behind it, it could be put to terrible purpose. It is feared, not just by the Lord of Ash, but the whole of the Grove itself, that it could cause the toppling of the Balance for unknown ages…perhaps forever.” Sage said.

Fen was amazed at the calm with which Sage relayed such dire sounding prophecy.

“Does it have something to do with the raising of Sharzaak?” Fen pried further.

Sage looked at the rustling underbrush, nonplussed.

Buttercream emerged. Her head covered in dirt and dead leaves.

The druidess smiled broadly at the simplistic joy with which the animal chewed on whatever prey it had found. “She will be an aid to your cause, Fen. Treat her well and she will do the same.”

“Of course.” Fen answered. He took couldn’t help but smile at the ferret. “But what about…” the druid started as he returned his attention to Sage.

The Mouth of Moonglade as nowhere to be seen.

Fen again grinned at himself and “chitted” at the ferret as he patted his thigh and turned to return to the keep. Buttercream followed unquestioning. Fen's mind replayed all that Sage had said…and what it meant for his future and that of his companions.

"Well," said the druid aloud to his long furry companion, "at least I'm a willow."