Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"

Where to Next?

The party returned to the keep from the temple of Desri with Braddok in tow. Introductions were made and Haelan attempted to give the warrior an overview of their adventures since he'd "been gone."

Braddok listened patiently and attentively. Some things he recalled...or pieces of things. Others were completely "new" to his ears.

When arriving at the mammoth towered keep of the Dragonmage and their lavish suite of chambers, the swordsman asked, "And you...we...live here!?"

"Oh no no. We're just guests for the time being....until we got you back, actually, I guess." Haelan, who had been doing most of the talking, as per usual.

The man had been clothed in a plain grey robe by the temple. Upon their return, Alaria suggested they all get a good rest during what remained of the night. She roused the young manservant, Quip, and asked that he find Braddok some suitable attire. "Breeches and proper traveling boots. A smart shirt or tunic." Quip nodded his understanding through sleep filled eyes and went on his errand.

"And we can go shopping for some new armor for you tomorrow too, if you want!" Haelan proposed enthusiastically.

"Yes." Braddok replied after a pause. "Some armor sounds...right...would make me feel more...myself."

"We'll go with yeh, Braddok." Duor interjected, indicating himself and Coerraine. "Need to stock up anyway if we're huntin' fer dragon treasure." the dwarf smiled broadly at the idea of piles of riches.

"Dragon treasure?!" Braddok said surprised.

"Tomorrow, Duor. We will discuss our options tomorrow. For now, Braddok, I think it best we listen to the Shaalir and get you some rest." Alaria interrupted before any of the other companions could launch into the tales of what might or might not be contained in the treacherous swamps of the Feldmere.

"I think I'd like to stay up for a while, my lady...erm...Alaria. I've been 'resting' for some time, it seems." Braddok grinned weakly at the lovely wizardess.

"Well," Haelan began with a yawn, "I am happy to keep you company and continue to jog your memory...as long as I can. It is rather late for us." the daelvar priest smiled at his returned friend. "Oh! And we have this!"

The priest went behind one of the large comfortable chairs near the burning fireplace and returned dragging the large triangular shaped shield emblazoned with the black fork-tailed bird.

Braddok's mind swam with dream-like hazy memories of the image he'd seen in the Underworld. The fork-tailed bird....swallowtail!....swallowtail hawk...."Yes! This is the swallowtail hawk! It is the coat of arms of my family!...My family in Denil!" Braddok burst, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.

Haelan smiled broadly. "I'd hoped you'd like it. I think the smith at Bridgetower did a very fine job."

"Yeah. We had it refurbished fer yer expected return." said Duor, stepping up beside the halfling.

"We?!" Haelan protested. But he let it drop. Braddok was back, that was what was important...he mentally apologized to Faerantha for his "pride".

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you all catch up." yawned the satyr with a long stretch of his arms. "Was nice to meet you, Braddok. I'll see you all in the morning."

"Thank you...em....friend satyr. Good night to you." Braddok replied. He found couldn't recall the satyr's name...nor anything else about him other than being introduced as the company's newest addition.

"I too require some rest." Alaria stated. "I feel tomorrow may be another long day and we've much to discuss and decide. I will take my leave of you, gentlefolk."

The companions all said their good nights to the magess. Coerraine and Braddok both rose from their chairs as the wizard took her leave.

Braddok questioned his instinctive action, but figured since the paladin had done it, it must have been the right thing to do.

The rest of the men stayed up talking with Braddok for another hour or so. At one point, as Duor was regaling him with his stunning victory against the ogre at Bridgetower, Braddok's stomach made a loud rumbling. The warrior excused himself to his friends and then realized that he was quite hungry.

This, of course, prompted Haelan to grab his new "gift" from the Dragonmage and asked Braddok what he would like to eat? The warrior had no response other than, "Umm....I don't actually know. What do I like?"

"I know! You haven't had any of the Wyvern's Wing mutton pasty before. You'll love it!" without waiting for a response, the halfling touched the pestle/spoon to the side of the bowl and said, "Mutton Pasty from the Wyvern's Wing inn." He then handed the bowl over to Braddok.

To the swordsman's amazement, the bowl was filled with pastry pockets filled with the spiced meat and onions. The odor of fresh baked pastries filled the chamber. Braddok sniffed in deeply and smiled. Yes, he definitely liked that smell.

Duor and Haelan each took one when the bowl continued to supply the things. the three ate hungrily and talked and laughed a bit. Braddok found himself feeling comfortable with these fellows, who apparently had been his "friends." He enjoyed the "new" feelings of comradery very much.

After a while more the swordsman, having finished all of the food the bowl had to offer, had to admit he was in fact actually tired.

The companions all retired even as the sky was taking on its pre-dawn rosy hue.

Braddok laid on the comfortable bed and stared at the ceiling with his hands crossed on his chest. Despite being tired, his eyes did not close at all. He was feeling...something...something that made him not want to close his eyes. A cold feeling. He shivered at the unpleasant sensation.

He laid there for a couple of hours, the satyr and halfling were deep in slumber. He waited when he heard others of the companions rise in the outer chamber. Then he rose to meet them...still tired.


The following day, once everyone had risen, the companions were visited by a black bearded gnome in bright and mismatched blue and yellow striped leggings and a green tunic with orange polka-dots. His feet were contained, somewhere, within the bright blue ankle-height shoes with the gnomish style curled up toes...that rose practically to the height of the gnome's knees.

Haelan was thoroughly perplexed how the gnome made the seemingly soft fabric shoes curl up to such a height and stay there. Gnomish magic, the daelvar presumed.

Perhaps the most shocking part of the outfit was the floppy broadly-brimmed hat the gnome wore. It was nearly as wide across as the gnome was tall of bright pink felt with a large green feather that "matched" his tunic.

He was introduced by the still sleepy looking boy, Quip, as "the Vale's finest tailor, Gnormelligent Quickstitch."

"But ye's can call me Gnorm." the black bearded gnome winked. From around his waist, he withdrew a long ribbon, that seemed to have circled the gnome three times over. He placed the small step-stool he'd brought along and took measurements for Braddok.

"Something in charteuse stars I think would be lovely on such broad shoulders. OO! Or I have a fresh bolt of some lovely pink and orange striped Thelitian silk I got from a trader last month. Can't go wrong with Thelitian silk, me mudma always said." Gnorm suggested, in an attempt to be helpful. <author/DM's note: 1)"mudma", if not obvious, is the gnomish iteration of "mother"...gnomes finding all things related to the earth, including mud, as highly important/venerated. 2) The Orean Gnomish sense of fashion is something of an...acquired taste for anyone but gnomes. >

Braddok looked with some worry to Alaria who had been watching the tailor do his work.
"Something in a pale blue, I think, would be more fitting." Alaria offered to the tailor. "Plain pale blue. Something durable...for travel. Perhaps with the black swallowtail hawk on the chest?" Seeing Braddok smile in thanks and approval, Alaria confirmed. "Yes, with the hawk on the chest. You can duplicate something like this?" She asked the gnome indicating the symbol on the shield.

"My dear, Magess, I am Gnormelligent of Daenfrii. I can duplicate anything...as long as it's fabric. hahahaheeheeee." the tailor replied with a smile and chuckle.

The similarity of the tailor's laugh to Gnobert's was...a bit unnerving.

"But very good. Yeer the customer an' the customer's always tight....er...right. heehee." the gnome smiled and winked. "A blue tunic with a black swallowtail hawk it shall be." the gnome finished and re-wrapped the ribbon-tape measure about his waist.

"Should be ready before six bells. Will you be picking it up or shall I have it sent? Only 2 silver more fer deliv'ry." he asked as he absently scribbled notes and numbers onto a small pad he'd produced from some unseen pocket.

"We'll pick it up. Have to go into town for some armor, anyway." Coerraine offered for the swordsman.

"Very good, my lords. I bid ye, all, a good day." he made a flourishing bow with his broad-brimmed hat before exiting.

As the gnome took his leave, Fen returned and behind him the giant ferret, Buttercreamshadowfeet.

Braddok looked at the half-elf and his eyes bulged open. "You! You're the druid who had my back!" Braddok again burst with satisfied surprise before taking the druid in a big bear hug. "My thanks to you, my brother-in-arms. I bare you no ill will for my untimely fate. The battle was hard won, from what I am told."

"B-Braddok!?" Fen managed to get out before the large man hugged him. "Uh...um...yes. Welcome back. I am pleased to see you...uh...well." he looked over Braddok's shoulder at Alaria and Erevan with a look that said, quite clearly, "what's this all about?"

When the swordsman released the druid, Fen said to the collected heroes with a charming smile, "Seems it worked then?"

"Well, mostly." Erevan replied before explaining Braddok's lapses of memory quickly in the elvin tongue.

"Ahhhhh. That's it then." Fen turned to Braddok, still smiling charmingly.

"And you found Buttercream!" Haelan cried and hugged the fluffy neck of the ferret which made small squeaking noises in admiration and nuzzled the daaelvar priest.

"We have a ferret named 'Buttercream'?" Braddok questioned the others with some disbelief.

"We didn't name her." Alaria replied simply and smiled back at the warrior. "But she's ours now. Or, well, more accurately Fen and Haelan's."

Their company complete, all of the companions noticeably relaxed in each others' company as the servants, Rik and Quip, entered with trays of food for the company's lunch.

Everyone ate and drank casually and discussion of their next move began.

"Seems a no brainer." Duor spoke up through the long drawls of ale from his mug. "We got Braddok back. The Iser Pale is in safe keeping. Adventure and dragon fortune awaits!"

"Ihs Repahl." Erevan corrected. "It's called the Ihs Repahl. And do we truly mean to leave it here, Alaria? Beyond that, I say we head to my homeland and aid in the defense against the goblin army incursion. That is, no doubt, where we will find Treesahd and could put an end to his wickedness." The elf finished and sipped calmly on his goblet of elfvine. The elf felt himself with an uncharacteristic burning to battle again with the dark wizard and give him "what for."

"Well...I mean...do we have to, Erevan? He wanted the orb and we don't have it anymore. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. tresahd will probably want nothing to do with us again." Haelan interjected.

"'Cept kill us all, of course." Duor muttered under his beard. "To the Feldmere and fame and fortune, I say."

The idea of meeting the wizard, who had very nearly slain several of them including Haelan, was not something the halfling Hilltender looked forward to. Festus concurred with Duor and Haelan.

Even Coerraine had to admit, the prospect of eliminating the evil of the dark wizard aside, they did not seem in a position to take him on with any hopeful chances of success. But in time...the Redstar, again to himself, shared Erevan's desire for a "rematch." His own feelings, ultimately, meant nothing. He was duty bound to go wherever the dwarf decided...the young Goldshield just hoped the rest of the party would agree and be with them.

Alaria proposed the idea of "wintering in the Vale." She was not in any rush to leave this intensely magical place. There was much here, she was sure, to be learned. "....and with the snows expected in no more than a month, according to Captain Rynthis, would it be wise to find ourselves in a quickly freezing swamp?"

"We could...I...I should...return to my homeland. I have much to do there." Braddok offered cautiously. The swordsman silently admitted, however, he did have a debt of honor to be repaid to this curious company...his former friends...who had gone to the trouble of raising him from the dead! If he were to retake his ancestral lands, he would do it with honor. Memories or not, his sense of honor was not impaired...if anything, it seemed more intense....more focused.

"But, whatever the group decides. I swear, my blade is yours as long as I continue to draw breath." Braddok added. His gaze had fallen, decidedly, on Alaria when he said "yours." Then chuckled to himself before saying, "And even beyond it seems."

Several of the companions chuckled at the jest.

Alaria smiled and nodded. The humor was good. It seemed, to her, Braddok was more like his "former" self. She hoped such attributes would continue to surface and grow...into the man she knew, yet had barely bothered to "know."

"Fen?" Haelan asked the druid.

The half-elf just shrugged as he bit into a large round red apple. "Whatever you all decide. My order has given me no indication where to go from here. Simply to protect the orb. That seems to be done, as far as I'm concerned."

"A vote it is to be then?" Festus said. In aside to Alaria, the satyr leered, "I get a vote now, don't I? I am a member of the company now."

"Of course, Festus." Alaria confirmed, though she was careful not to meet the satyr's gaze.

To stay in the Vale for the winter, there was only Alaria and Haelan.

That not winning, Alaria placed her next vote for Miralosta along with Fen, and Erevan.

Festus, reveling in his newfound freedom, was anxious to get somewhere out of Daenfrii or the neighboring elvin realm with which he was somewhat acquainted. Between himself, Duor and Coerraine's "forced" vote with whatever the dwarf decided and, to everyone's surprise, Haelan, the decision was made.

"Well, if we're not going to be safe here, we might as well not be safe somewhere Tresahd is not!" the daelvar defended his vote.

They would supply themselves and prepare to make for the Feldmere.

Alaria proposed they remain for a week's time, to gather whatever information they could and give Braddok some time to really "get back on his feet."

Everyone agreed to that.

"AlRIGHT! Dragon treasure hunting wins the day! C'mon Goldilocks. C'mon Braddok. We have some armor and supplies to buy. Leave the brainy types to the research department. Festus, you want to come too? We'll see you lot later." Duor hopped up from his seat, thoroughly satisfied at getting "his" way.

The two human warriors, the dwarf rogue and satyr ranger left for the town (which apparently had no name other than "the Vale" or "Dragonwing Vale").

Alaria, Erevan, Haelan and Fen began discussion of how to go about their researching. Alaria would meet with the archivist Felton at his first convenience. She and Erevan hoped to be able to access the Keep's library or perhaps the temple of Manat, below the actual keep. Haelan said he would consult with the local priestesses of Gilea and perhaps other temples to see what materials they might have. Fen agreed to accompany Haelan, though, himself, had little interest in research and would probably end up wandering the town or surrounding farmlands to see what rumors or myths the local populace might have.

Five days later, the day of Darkveil Night (Braddok's deadline for returning from the Netherworld) the party was entirely prepared to leave the Vale of the Dragonmage.

Evening fell over the Vale of the Dragonmage in the realm of Daenfrii on the world of Orea.

Bonfires were easily seen from the party's high vantage point in their chambers of Dragonwing Keep. Silhouettes of figures could be seen flickering before the large fires on the hilltops outside of the "town" proper. Within the town below the keep, several other fires had been lit in various squares. The streets were crowded with revelers celebrating the night of the "thinness" between the realms of the living and the dead.

There was some disagreement some disagreement among sages as to the purpose and origins of the "holy day." For some, the fires and reveling noise was a warning or defense against the return of spirits. To others, the light and noise was to be a beacon for the souls of the dearly departed, to come partake of the festivities. For most of the commonfolk, it was a holiday...a good reason for a party.

The party had decided, venturing off into the world beyond the Vale on the day of Darkveil would be foolish and open them up to potential attacks they had no desire to undertake.

Braddok was particularly at a noticeable unease. The idea that the veil between the living and the dead was at an annual thinness seemed to sseverely shake the man, who had just in the past few days gotten used to the fact that he was again in the lands of the Living.

Not that he believed he didn't deserve to be "here", in the Living Lands. He had an ever-present pressing on his mind...his soul...that he had "much to do." But he was consumed, throughout the afternoon and into the beginnings of the festival, by the idea that he might accidentally "slip" back into the Grey Lands of the goddess of Death.

Several flagons of ale later, with his friends Duor and Festus, alleviated this strange sensation, which Alaria and others had told him was "fear."

He did not like "fear", at all. he made a mental promise to expunge it from his mind forever...overcome it, as was only logical and he felt honorable, to a warrior of his caliber.

During the past week, he had acquired his new garb, a suitanle long-sleeved jacket of chainmail and a new helmet that was "plain" by many standards, but had a noseguard and a few strips of black leather flailing out from the tip. He felt a proper "soldier"....and it felt "right" to him.

The mages and priests had uncovered much information about the Fledmere in their week's research.

Alaria was sorely disheartened by the Lord Chamberlain's response to her request to the keep's library.

"You want access to the library? The Dragonwing family library?! No, my dear, I am afraid that will not be possible." the aged elf had said.

But the Witch-priests of Manat in the temple below the keep had been more than accommodating...after their "tribute fee" had been paid.

The time in research had not allowed her any time for transcribing spells...but then, she had not had opportunity to utilize those she had gained in Bridgetower. Erevan, however, did take some time to add to his spellbook, noticeably thinner than Alaria's own.

The greatest resource of information had been her meeting (with Haelan and Erevan in tow) with the keep's archivist, Felton.

"About the mage, Tresahd, as my lord-prince had requested, I can not tell you anything...as of yet." apologized the festitiously groomed and garbed grey-bearded man.

"But of the Feldmere! Oh, that's a horse of a different color." he smiled in self-appreciation.

"Are you familiar with the Ballad of the Swan Prince?" Felton asked.

"I know the rhyme." Haelan interjected.

From the questioning looks he received, the daelvar began chanting what he claimed to be a child's rhyme in his homeland of the Free Hollows.
"You never heard that? It's a children's song? Ev'ry daelvar child knows that rhyme from the first sprouts of hair on their feet!" Haelan protested in surprise that he knew something these other "bigfolk" didn't.

"Hmmm. No doubt a folkloric bastardization of the Ballad." Felton nodded in sincere curiosity.

"The Ballad, itself, was composed, of course, by the great bard, Calidwyn the Spellsinger. It is hailed as one of his greatest works. It was composed in the aftermath of the Battle of Thornfeld in honot of his beloved champion's victory.

"It reads as follows...you'll forgive me if I don't sing it." the sage chuckled to himself. "I assure you, you would not prefer it so."

Alaria smiled in response, waiting for the actual relevant material. The casual attitude of these outlander mages and sages about information that she took as quite serious continued to vex her.

"Now, the interesting part is that in the days of the Scourge Wars and the days of Calidwyn...it is common knowledge after all..." Felton looked at the transfixed companions.

"The image of the 'swan' was often used instead of the 'dragon.' Long necks? Powerful wings? Unpleasant calls, to say the least, could be equivicated with the legendary wyrms' dangerous breath...Do you not see?!" He huffed in what might have been aggravation.

The companions shook their heads in a communal lack of understand.

"The 'black swan' of the ballad? It is my supposition, is the symbol for the well-documented dragon-commander of Nor Gorthok, Desaarthal, one of Sharzaak's brood...and a wyrm of indescribable evil by all accounts.

"There is some disagreement in the texts. I have found references that the 'White Swan Prince' might have been a Selurian lord...the Selurians, naturally, being known to be a wholely albino race." Felton said with conviction.

"Others believe he might have been a prince of the Shi...an errant elf lord who cobbled out a realm of his own when the bulk of the elves moved to ShiStaliir...There's really no definitive account.

"But what is definitive, the Silver Prince is no doubt the high-king Elibon, for whom the ballad was composed. He turned the tide of the Scourge Wars and brought unity to the realms of Grinlia...with our lord, the Dragonmage's aid, of course."

Felton waited as all of this sunk in to the inquiring group. He was most assured he had found the answer to all of their questions.

He was mistaken.

"But...then...when does this black swan take daelvar feet?" Haelan asked, concerned.

The archivist's eyes bulged in his head.

"If it is, indeed, the dragon that Master Felton supposes, Haelan. Then I imagine it takes the feet off of anything." Erevan explained.

"Ooooooh." replied Haelan before gulping audibly.

"May we, Master Felton, take a copy of that ballad with us?" Alaria asked.

He also had a map of the Feldmere that he 'gave' them a copy of, included in their fee. "The ruins of Nor Gorthok are, by my accounting and the latest available material, there," the archivist noted a marking of a hill...or was it a mound of rocks?...in the dead center of the Feldmere.

"Our thanks, Master Felton," Alaria offered and nodded a bow of leave, which indicated to the others that the meeting was at an end.

"Gods' Speed to you, Stormrider. May you find what it is you are seeking." Felton replied with a ceremonious nod.

"And not die trying." Erevan whispered to Alaria as they departed.

The Stormriders to date: an Overview.

Alaria "the Stormrider" Staver: human mage (level 4) from the "Wizard Lands" of R'Hath. She is enjoying her foray into the "outer realms" but is uncomfortable with her role (initially formal) as "group leader", foisted upon her. She is hoping that Braddok's return might alleviate some of this pressure and leave to her more personal care of exploring and increasing her power in "the Mysteries" of magic. With the loss (turning over) of the artifact known as the Ihs Repahl, by far her most potent item, into the hands of the Dragonmage, Alaria is looking forward to increasing her spellcraft.

"Goldshield" Coerraine: human paladin (level 3) of the god of defense and battleskill, Celradorn, hailing from the southern kingdom of Mostrial. He has striven, with some success, to live up to his homelands standards (as well as his Lord and God's tenets) of honor and duty. It is these standards that have brought him to his "unfortunate" role as personal protector of the dwarf rogue, Duor (following a magical assault in which Coerraine was charmed, attacked Duor and brought him shockingly close to death). He has some qualms with Alaria's seeming willingness to parley, deal or otherwise "allow" creatures of evil intent to go unpunished.

Erevan Ryvsorai Aiiri: elf "tracker" (a fighter/mage, in official "crunch" terms, levels 2/2) of the Miralostae ("Moonwatcher") nation. His homeland is currently under seige by an army of goblins led by some creature known as "the Bulgruch" along with the aid of a powerful dark wizard the company has encountered, named Tresahd. He is concerned for his land and people, but is firm in his devotion to the group, assured that, when the time comes, they will aid in his people's cause. He is eager for a "rematch" with Tresahd and vows to put an arrow between the wizard's ears when next they meet. He has a sincere appreciation for this odd collection of companions, despite his usual tete-a-tete with the dwarf, Duor. He is particularly appreciative of the magess, Alaria, and her greater mastery of the Mysteries than himself. The return of Braddok from the humans' "Land of the Dead" is something that fascinates him thoroughly.

"Hilltender" Haelan Spurthistle: a "daelvar" (halfling) cleric (level 4, "Hilltender" is his temple rank) of the halfling "Mother Nature" goddess, Faerantha. Haelan hails from the Free Hollows dale near the human city of Hawkview. Other than Fen and Festus, Haelan is the character "closest to home" and the evils they have encountered on their journey, to date, are of an increasing concern to him. Polite and hceerful, almost to a fault, Haelan is much more secure in his faith than when they started. Still, caution is a time-honored trait of the daelvar...but so is "curiosity" and hairfoot tenacity. He counts all of the company as his closest friends (despite their relatively short association).

Duor Darkesmythe: a dwarf rogue (thief, level 5) of unknown origin. As far as the company is concerned, he is from Hawkview. But that has never been confirmed. Duor is out for gold and glory. Make his big name and big fortune to prove all of those "thugs in the Dusk [Hawkview's thieves' guild] what a big mistake they made crossing blades with him. These folks he travels with are a great way to accomplish that. Though he is loath to admit it, they have grown on him some, even the "smiling dimwit Hilltender." He is especially happy with the company of the newest addition, Festus, but still maintains a questioning eye and ear on the druid, Fen. He thinks Braddok is the most level-headed of the bunch and is thoroughly pleased with his "personal paladin", Coerraine. The elf can go back to the woods, far as he's concerned and Alaria gets a bit "too big for her britches" sometimes...but one can't go dragon treasure hunting without a mage, "an' that's fer sure."

Festus Hornshod: satyr ranger (level 3), until recently, of the Dragonmage's Defenders of the South March. Festus is eager to leave Daenfrii and see more action and adventure than his prior tenure involved. He likes Duor's company a lot, anyone who can keep up with him in a contest of drink is "good folk" in his book. But he likes all of the rest of the company just as well, even if Alaria is sometimes a "stick in the mud." They are "the Sotrmriders" after all...and now he's one of them! This "Braddok guy"that the rest are so pleased to have back really doesn't mean anything to him. But if the company likes him...and went to the trouble of raising him from the dead!...then he can't be all bad.

"Fen" (a.k.a. "Faeryl of Enkort"): A half-elf druid (level 3) of the Ancient "Holy" Order of Mistwood, Orea's worldwide druidic organization. He is handsome, charming, charismatic and still something of mystery to many of the other companions. His "missions" as directed from the Ancient Order are currently suspended (as far as he knows). He has grown close to Erevan, in particular, but is thoroughly amused by Haelan and has a good respect for Alaria and the others of the company, including the "new addition" Festus. He is particularly fond of making the paladin, Coerraine, uncomfortable with his rigid religious and social attitudes. He knows he is untrusted by some among the party, but was thoroughly surprised by the raised Braddok's newfound "friendship" (something that was noticably lacking before the warrior's death).

Braddok Kar Barforth: human fighter (starting/just level 3, after being "raised") who was an original member of the company. He fell during a battle with an ogre and was recently returned to the lands of the living by his companions. He has a limited memory of these people and a curiously lacking "sense" of emotions, but seems to have some connection with the beautiful magess, Alaria, he can't quite describe. Duor and Festus seem agreeable, the Hilltender is over-eager but seems to be nice, the elf and paladin he has little feelings (one way or the other) for, and the druid Fen he recalls from the afterlife as being one who "had his back" in the fight that ended his life and thoroughly appreciates it/the effort. He knows he's missed about a month of time with this diverse company of folk, but is eager to repay the debt of having his "brought back." Braddok has a new-found "focus" since being returned from the dead. He is secure in the hopes he can count on their assistance in the reclaiming of his ancestral family realm of Barforth, a barony in the far off Duchy of Denil in the western kingdom of Grinlia.

Now...on to the Feldmere.
--SD

The Feldmere: Part I

The party gathered up their supplies and made ready to depart Dragonwing Keep. For mounts and carts and how they would tote away a dragon's treasure (assuming they found one) had been given curious little thought...other than Duor picking up an armful of large burlap sacks.

They had received an overview from Felton of what they might expect to find: trolls (duh. They knew that!), a tribe of lizardfolk (maybe more than one), wandering undead. Not to mention the environmental hazards that traversing a vast swampland would bring: sinking mud holes, flaming gases, carnivorous plant life had all been documented by the, relatively few, expeditions that had only scraped the perimeters of the vast 'Mere.

Over the centuries a plethora of folkloric tales had arisen of spirits and hags and unknown monstrous beasts.

Not to mention the possibility that the Feldmere's creator, an evil dragon of reputed power named Desaarthal <"dez-AY-ar-thal">, may still lurk in the ruins of his centuries old stronghold, Nor Gorthok.

The true concern, to Alaria (which she shared with everyone) had to do with Desaarthal's documented connection to the dread wyrm of legend, Shaarzak <"SHAY-ar-zak"> as being one of the ancient dragon's children. What they had learned in their time and travels, between Welford, Bridgetower and the Dragonmage's Vale, about the Ihs Repahl, along with a goblin's rantings that "Shaarzak will rise", seemed to point to the possibility that the dark forces moving through the land meant to return the mother-wyrm to the living realms.

But with the Ihs Repahl securely in the hands of the Dragomage-apparent, Montor, they had little concern that the evil Tresahd might bring that supposed purpose to fruition.

They dismissed the boy-servants, Rik and Quip, with the final task to find the Lord Chamberlain, Celerion, that they might offer their thanks and farewells beore leaving. To their surprise, Rik nor Quip returned to their chambers with any news, but Celerion, himself, showed up at their suite's doors.

"Off already?" the aged wrinkled elf asked with a smile. "You've been taking lessons from our lord-prince, eh? heh heh heh."

"Well, let Daenfrii and the house of the Lordmage, Arganor offer you one, last, boon. Follow me." the regally robed elf offered and turned without another word.

They followed the elf down out of their chambers and across the great hall and up into a different tower, one of the many that constituted the Dragonwing Keep.

They entered a chamber that was long and broad. A dais with three steps rose in the middle. A single tongue of stone rose beside the dais.

Celerion went to the "pulpit", for lack of a better term, and instructed the company to go stand on the thirty foot across circular platform.

"Or you certain this is what you want to do?" asked Celerion.

All of the companions, including Braddok, looked to Alaria.

"This is our course of action. I pray to Manat that we meet again soon, good Chamberlain. Perhaps even before the snows fall." the magess responded with a weak smile.

"Where would you like to go?" asked the old-looking elf. "Keep!" he commanded. Even as the blue-white ball of light swirled into view, Celerion continued, "This is a teleportal chamber. I can send you to anywhere in the known realms. But, I fear, I can not bring you back. Choose your location carefully."

Alaria pulled out the map of the Feldmere that Felton had supplied them. She had no desire to "wander" about the marshlands and checked with her fellows before instructing the Lord Chamberlain to place them in/near the "mound in the middle of the Feldmere, here" which they presumed to be the ruins of Nor Gorthok.

"As you wish." Celerion responded before passing his hand over the surface of the podium before which he stood.

Immediately as he concluded his wave of the arm, an image of light appeared behind him. It was a map of Orea.

The old elf strode up to it, the clacking of his staff on the stone floor was loud as he stepped slowly.

He waved his staff and floated up into the air to touch the region of the Feldmere with his finger.

Instantly, the image changed to be a "close-up" version of the swamplands a half day's journey outside of Daenfrii's borders.

A mound of ruins appeared in the center of the swamp and Celerion again touched it with his finger. The "mound of rocks" became the entire image before them.

Celerion floated down to the floor and returned to the podium, his staff clacking along the way.

"Are you ready, Stormriders?" he asked.

The companions nodded their accent.

"The gods protect you and keep you heroes. I will pray that we meet again....before the snows fall." he directed this last comment to Alaria and winked a smile.

"Keep?" the old elf said.

"Coordinates are locked, Lord Chamberlain." came the buzzing chorus of voice from the blue-white ball of light.

"To the Feldmere, if you please." replied the chamberlain.

"By your will, Lord Chamberlain." replied the ball of light.

"But what about..." began Haelan's voice as the companions were again surrounded by the teardrops of white and blue and golden light.

Unlike their transportation by the Dragonmage-prince, this teleport did feel like moving, Alaria noted.

Sparkles of gold and blue and white trailed all around them for an instant before the unpleasant sensation of hitting a wall! There was a flash of blue, a falling sensation and then an abrupt (if not damage causing) end.

All of the companions felt bruised, the wind knocked from their lungs. They roused themselves with moans and groans to find they were upon a high ridge that looked down, out over, a vast swamp swathed in thick fog.

Erevan, of course, was the first to recover from the unpleasant teleportation experience. He surveyed their surroundings and, lamentably, relayed, "We seem to be upon the Thornfeld....outside of the Feldmere."

"Ya see," snorted Duor as he roused himself from the jolting landing, "elves cain't do nuthin' right. We shoulda gotten horses. Magic be damned!"

"We had no money for horses, though." Haelan retorted as he straightened the helmet on his brow and took up the pinecone-headed mace which was inches from his grasp.

Typically, the Hilltender did not see the dwarf's scowl in his direction.

"Everyone made it, though." Festus said, instinctively defending his homeland's lords.

With a good amount of gathering up their supplies and weapons, straightening of hair and tunics, the party looked out over the vast expanse.

"Well...this sucks." said Coerraine.

Eyebrow rose and laughs came unbidden at the paladin's unexpected assessment.

"Nothing to do about it," said Braddok hoisting a good amount of equipment onto his own broad shoulders, "but walk. Where's that map?"

Alaria gathered up the map, which had been in her hands during teleportation and had fallen some distance from her on the ground.

Erevan and Braddok consulted the map and surrounding for a time.

"Hey, ranger here!" Festus piped up robbing his horned head.

The three unlikely warrior-companions consulted the map and surroundings and decided on a course of action.

Taking up a marching order, for which Braddok leaned close to Alaria and murmured, "You stay behind me, ok?"

The magess nodded her agreement and listened with gratitude as Braddok "commanded" the various members of the company into their positions.

Festus and Braddok would take the fore. Coerraine insisted on being before Duor, if he wasn't going to be in the front rank. Braddok deemed the Redstar's more heavily armored form might be unwise beside the otherwise stealthy satyr. So it was Coerraine and Erevan in second rank. Then Alaria and Duor. Fen ("watching my back") and Haelan, with their "pet", Buttercream, would bring up the rear.

"She'll go where she wills, swordsman." Fen offered gently to, what the druid still considered the "fragile" warrior. "Have no doubt, she will aid as as she can."

Assured in their direction, the team wandered into the fell marshes of the Feldmere.


Based on the time they'd been marching, it was nearly midday before the fog-ensconced party was abruptly halted by the ranger's raised fist. The satyr raised a finger to his lips and looked at Braddok. Braddok did the same behind him and the rest of passed it back.

Festus withdrew his shortbow and nocked an arrow.

Erevan, who had had an arrow nocked since they had reached the base of the ridge and entered the soft marshland, drew his bow. Waiting, listening, wondering why they had been halted.

There was a distinct sloshing sound, the elf noted. Which only he or the satyr ranger might have hoped to hear.

The satyr nodded to the elf in the second rank and whispered, "and Duor is you want." to follow him.

Duor passed.

The elf and satyr disappeared into the mists to their left and were gone from view in an instant.

Three instances later, Erevan's shrill whistle of warning came piercing through the mists.

The party took off in their direction and came to an abrupt halt before a massive beast.

It was knee deep in watery muddy sludge. It had an incredibly long neck and equally long tail. Two arrows were noticeable in its thick, rhinocerous-like hide.

"Stay back!" called Festus from somewhere on the other side of the creature. "CataloooOOMPH!"

The figure of Festus flying through the air into the mist from a swing of the thing's club-like tail.

This did nothing to deter Braddok or Coerraine who charged forth with weapons singing.

With the first strike of Braddok's sword, the long neck swung into the air with a bellow.

The head swung around to the other companions...it was like a wart-hog, but with more ridges and large yellowed bloodshot eyes.

It bellowed in the direction of the approaching companions.

Something about its face...it's eyes...its gaze...it was HORRIBLE! Terrifying!

Alaria shrieked in horror and immediately turned to disappear into the mists surrounding the horrid creature at top speed.

Braddok faced a similar fate. Shouting in obvious fear back into the mists after the wizard.

"Alaria? Braddok! Come back!" Haelan called. He looked upon the truly disgusting face of the creature and shook nearly to his hairy toes, before following the magess into the mists.

"Dammit all!" called out Duor before firing his nocked hand crossbow. "So glad we brought'cha back, Braddok." the dwarf mumbled under his beard.

Fen immediately began to chant under his breath.

Coerraine struck with his spear and the creature bellowed again as blood flowed from the gash in its side.

The Redstar knight was not as fortunate to avoid the swinging tail of the thing and was knocked down into the sludge in which he, and the creature, stood.

Two more arrows found their way into the thing's hide from Erevan's bow. The elf, as well as the satyr, seemed immune to the creature's terrifying gaze.

With an amazing bound, the satyr landed upon the creature's back and slashed viciously with his falchion and newly acquired magic short sword.

"Ahwoooooo!" the thing bellowed in pain into the mist before its mouth was closed and its body encircled with reeds and swan grass that leapt up to entangle it.

Fen clenched his fist and the creatures head was pulled, with a loud splash that covered the remaining companions, including a Coerraine who had beginning to rise out of the muck, in muddy water.

The druid was now the recipient of the monster's hard bulbous tail as he tried to near it with his leaf-shaped spear.

Coerraine rose as the druid splashed loudly beside him.

Two more arrows from the elf's magic quiver sunk into the creature's neck.

Festus stabbed deeply into its bony back with both of his blades.

"BY CELRADORRRRRRN!" the Redstar Knight invoked as his spearhead sunk deeply into the creature's thickly hided side.

The gripping vegetation loosened with the druid's "smack" and the creature's head emerged from the muddy water and howled into the sky before its whole form slumped over to the side.

Festus leapt off of its back as it fell to land before the paladin and druid raising himself from the muck. The half-elf wiped mud from his face to see the satyr standing, smiling triumphantly.

"Catalobemplas." said Festus, as if that was an explanation.

"Catoblempis." said Fen as a correction.

"Catabolemphas" said Coerraine.

"Estis'phak" said Erevan, matter-of-factly. <translated from elvin: "Fear face" or "Face of Fear">

"Wute'er it was, it's DEAD now! And we lost half the bloody expedition!" Duor raged.

The elf tracker, half-elf druid, satyr ranger, human paladin and dwarf thief looked into the fog from which they'd come.

"Let's go find them." said Erevan, casually.

"Not before we see if this thing had any treasure!" the dwarf quickly corrected.

Coerraine and Erevan rolled their eyes.

"You do that, we'll go find them." said Erevan.

"I have to stay here with Duor, it would a dereliction of du-" began Coerraine.

"YOU stay with the dwarf." said Erevan in annoyance. "WE (indicating Fen, Festus and himself) will go find them. We will meet you back HERE! Do not wander."

So the party set off, split off <DM's note: "AGAIN?!?! Ugh"> to find their companions and regroup.

"And we're only four hours into this." mentioned Fen with a calming smile to Erevan.

"You're not that cute, you know?" returned the elf (in elvin) with a grin.

"You know I speak elf, right?" replied the satyr, in the Common tongue of Men, as he casually wiped gore from his blade.

Without another syllable, the three disappeared into the fog after their swordsman, magess and cleric.

The search party found Haelan first, not far beyond the path they had been following.

The cleric was bent over, hands on his knees, huffing and puffing.

"I'm sorry, Erevan, I tried to catch up. Their legs are so long! I....I don't know where they went. I hope nothing bad has happened to them." the Hilltender panted.

Fen placed a reassuring hand on the daelvar's shoulder. "Don't worry, friend Hilltender. We will find them."

"Sure you did your best." added Festus as he crouched down to scan the ground.

With little trouble they came upon Braddok, standing in a nondescript clearing, surrounded by fog. The swordsman's face was very pale as Erevan broke the mist to see the dark-haired human clearly.

"Erevan?...It...it is Erevan, right?" Braddok stammered. The big warrior was visibly shaking. "Am I dead again? There was this....horror...and now I'm here....and the fog is like...before...and...am I dead again?"

Erevan looked at the obviously distraught warrior and said plainly, "No, Braddok. You are not dead."

This seemed to reassure Braddok very little until, shortly after the elf, Haelan, Fen and Festus came into view.

The big man exhaled audibly and shook off the last remnants of his "fear".

"I don't like fear. I have failed you, my friends. I have failed Alaria." Braddok said with disappointment.

"Do not be, warrior." Fen, again stepped up to reassure. "The creature has an unnatural...well, no...an enchanted gaze. There was very little you could have done. Feel no shame." the druid smiled warmly.

Braddok shook his head in understanding before asking, "Where is Alaria? Is she ok?"

"We're...um...working on that." Festus piped up. "Did you see which way she went?"

Braddok admitted he had not. He had raced through the mists in a panic that clouded his still-fragile memory. He had stopped running in this clearing with the distinct horror and panic that he was, again, in the Grey Lands of the dead.

Festus began, again, scanning the swamp's soft ground around the clearing. Just as he found what appeared to be a small stamp in the soft marsh-mud a woman's cry rose up from somewhere in the fog.

"HELLLLP!!! Braddok? Erevan?! Anybody!" it said.

The, now five, companions followed Erevan's keen hearing to find Alaria up to her thighs in muck and mud. She was desperately trying to reach the edge of the mud-hole, in which she was firmly entrenched, with her staff.

A little of shimmying later, Braddok, led out to his knees gripping Fen's spear shaft, was able to grab the magess and pull her to safety.

"I hate this swamp." said the R'Hathi wizard as she released Braddok from a thankful hug. "What happened? How did I end up here? Where were you all?!" She bulleted off the questions.

The companions filled her and the warrior in on their way back to find Duor smoking a cigar setting atop the fallen bulk of the fear-beast's large body. Coerraine was leaning casually against its side but jumped up as they returned.

Alaria began to chuckle and laugh into the wind, to some of the companions confusion. Coerraine, Fen and herself were almost entirely covered in muck and mud.

Expending a few simple prestidigitations to clean up the company, they re-grouped companions again set off in, what Festus was sure was, the right direction.

The next few days passed with relative unevent.

<insert Author/DM's 80's-style montage here...>

*The group forced to go to single file through some particularly close underbrush.

*Huddled close around a small campfire at night. Keeping two-person watches throughout.

*Running away from a surprise encounter with two large alligators.

*Festus and Braddok slashing through the brambles and grasses with their blades.

* A very nervous Haelan keeping guard with a very calm Fen as an array of strange eyes watched the campsite from the darkness.

* Festus, Duor and Braddok arguing over the map and pointing in various different directions.

* Butercream munching happily on a large snake that the company had not noticed in the brush beside them.

* Alaria, and all of the company, laughing at a satyr covered head-to-hoof in mud who had made a misstep from the path into a pool of mud. The magess performed another prestidigitation to clean him up.

* Erevan and Fen sharing a quiet moment as the others slept. Alert, but comfortable.

</end montage>

In the afternoon of their fourth day in the Feldmere, they came to the edge of their path.

Festus and Braddok quickly backed up with loud "sssshlunk" noises pulling their feet out of the mire that was before them. They had sunk up to their ankles in a moment. Both of the fighting men backed onto the solid-ish path they had be following.

A mound of solid looking ground was not more than 20 feet before them. Cursory prodding to their left and right revealed the mucky, sinking ground seemed to extend indefinitely in either direction from their position.

Fen strode forward and whispered some incantation of his secretive langauge.

Alaria and Erevan heard certain syllables. They were jolting, but not harmful.

"--../..-/.." spoke the druid.

Alaria, who knew that the language of the Mysteries sounded like nonsense to the "uninitiated" couldn't help but wonder the origin of this completely alien language of the druids.

A five foot wide path of the muddy loam seemed to come together and form something of a causeway for the group that extended across the span to the mound. <Author/DM's note: Druid spell: a reversed "Soften Earth">

The group moved, carefully at first, out onto Fen's magically created ground.

When they'd reached the mound, Erevan strode off to the side and knelt beside what appeared to be a small bump of weeds and vines.

The elf wiped and pulled the vegetation clear to reveal a marker of severely eroded and pitted white stone, like the Selurian's used. The inscriptions on the stone, however were most definitely not Selurian...nor were they in any elvish tongue Erevan or Fen understood fully...though it appeared to them to be similar to elvish.

Alaria set to examining the stone with Erevan.

"It is, perhaps, some proto-elvin tongue?", Alaria posed. "Ancient as the stone seems to be. Not like the tongue we know today. Could it be ShiStaliiri?" the magess posed to the "young" Miralostae elf

Fen seemed distracted by something in the mud they had crossed over.

"What is it, Fen?" Haelan asked with his normal innocent curiosity which had become thoroughly tainted with worry, moreso than usual, in their days within the Feldmere. The poor daelvar seemed always on the verge of a nervous breakdown while Fen had seemed to become ever more serene than normal, if that were possible.

Then it leaped up from its hiding place in the muck surrounding the mound. A serpent, huge by any definition its brown-black scales glistened in the limited light of the afternoon.

Buttercream immediately hunched her furry back and hissed loudly at the snake.

"Bloody hells, I hate this swamp!" Duor cried out in surprise as a bolt from his hand crossbow flung, sorely off the mark.

The weapons, which were almost constantly drawn since their second day in the swamps, rose to face the creature.

"Up on the mound!" shouted Erevan. It wasn't a suggestion. The elf shoved Alaria up the slight incline, away from the edge of the mound where the stone sat.

Coerraine and Braddok took positions in front of the dwarf and halfling as the stoutfolk scrambled to climb the mound.

Festus pulled out his shortbow and reached for arrows.

Fen helped Alaria to her feet, sorely displaced by the elf's harsh push, and the two began to climb the mound a bit before turning to take in the scene.

The snake struck with devastating accuracy, clamping its fangs into Erevan's shoulder and reeled back for another attack. It easily avoiding Braddok's sword swing and Coerraine's spear jab. The creature was incredibly fast.

Erevan fell onto his back, gripping the bleeding punctures of the things fangs. The wound burned worse than fire. The elf knew he was poisoned.

He reached back for an arrow from his quiver...either one! But his eyesight faltered and blurred before he could get one on his bowstring. The arrow fell to the mound beside him from limp fingers as his vision darkened.

"KIILI!" shouted Fen before occult verse began bursting from his lips.

Alaria, simillarly, called to mind a spell and began to incant.

[EDIT] Festus [/EDIT] let loose with an arrow from his small bow that whizzed passed the creature by a hair.

Braddok blocked a snapping bite from the giant snake, brushing its head aside with a firm "whack!" from his shield.

Coerraine "raced" as fast as he could across the soft slippery ground to get his body between the snake and the prone elf. The paladin noticed Erevan's eyes were closed and what little color Erevan normally had in his face was noticeably fading.

Ten feet of the thing bobbed above the murky mud, staring with purpose down on the warriors that faced it. Which morsel to strike next?

---to be continued---

Coerraine struck out with his spear. The invocation for a "smite" from his lord went unanswered.

Despite its "monstrous" appearance, this was not a creature of "evil" merely a creature of nature following its instincts.

Still, divine assistance aside, the spear struck with telling effect.

The massive snake hissed loudly and showed its fangs to the disagreeable meals before it. Then it slunk back into the mud from whence it had come and could be seen winding its way away, a trail of blackish fluid noticeable across the muck's surface as it went.

Fen's and Alaria's spells went off as the creature retreated. It could not be determined if the fans of flame harmed the creature or not...much of them going up in bursts of steam against the brackish water/mud.

But the snake was soon gone from view.

Coerraine immediately poured some of his vial of "anti-toxin" potion into the grey-pale elf's mouth and massaged it down his throat.

<Author/Dm's note: The party had invested heavily in "neutralize poison" and "healing" potions as part of their preparations for the Feldmere. Wise beyond belief. A healing potion for each member, all 9 -including Buttercream at Haelan's insistance- and 3 neutralize poisons. Haelan is of level to "slow" poisons, but not neutralize them>

Fen came rushing up next to the fallen Miralostae. "Haelan!" the half-elf called.

A moment after administration, the elf's face took on its usual color and the labored, almost non-existent, breathing became smooth again.

Erevan roused himself to sit up as the paladin then laid his hands upon the fang punctures on the elf's shoulder.

A golden warm filled Erevan.

The wounds closed and the bleeding seemed to fade into the elf's exposed skin.

All of the companions backed away from the mucky edge of the mound before Alaria used another prestidigitation cantrip to mend the elf's black shirt and leather "armor".

"I am in your debt, champion of Celradorn." Fen said matter-of-factly.

"No debt, is there, in the protection of a fallen ally." Coerraine responded with a smile at the half-elf. He was more quoting Redstar doctrine than answering the "heathen" druid. But was filled with a warming sense of purpose, that he had done everything that he should have done. The young paladin was sure of that.

Erevan and Coerraine clasped arms, when the elf rose to his feet.

"My thanks, Redstar Knight." the elf began. Before turning to the druid and muttering, "You worry too much."in the elvin tongue.

"My furry satyr arse!" interjected Festus with typical lack of tact.

The company looked at the satyr in surprise at the exclamation.

"That was a Blackmuck-Viper" the satyr said as if that were an explanation. "A giant one, to be sure...but still, a blackmuck viper!"

Seeing the lack of comprehension on most of the companions, Festus continued with surprise and energy, "One of the most poisonous serpents in the known realms! Another three moments, my good friend elf, and you would have been lost! 'On the boat to the moon', as your people say."

The use of the elvish idiom did reveal some shock to Fen and Erevan.

Erevan looked at Fen.

Fen nodded his agreement.

"For humans," Fen continued the explanation to the others, "its bite is fatal in two breaths."

"Wut 'bout dwarves?" asked Duor.

Fen scowled in the dwarf's direction but did not meet his eyes.

The party crested the small mound and gained a much better perspective of their position...or lack thereof.

The"mound" was all of 20 feet wide and seemed to extend, roughly, 60 feet. The grasse and reeds brew up, tll, all around the base. A few young narrow trees, leafless in the late-ish autumn, and short thickets dotted the top and sloping sides.

The party decided this was far enough to have lunch. Between Haelan's mystic bowl and Fen's capacity to purify water, expunging the sediment or plain muddy waters they encountered, the party had little fear of running out of food and drink.

They'd only brought two days of rations with them, figuring they'd be on foot, at least to Bridgetower where they could replenish. But when the Lord Chamberlain of Daenfrii says "come with me", you don't reply with "Hang on. Lemme just go to market." As Alaria had pointed out the previous day when their limited rations had run out.

They ate heartily from the magical food-producing bowl, which Haelan had decided should serve "Dartha's shrimp puffs" from their time at Shoal.

"Shame you can't get the Tyrisian's Pure Water from that thing." Duor mumbled as he crunched into a shrimp puff.

"I could try when we're done." offered Haelan, sincerely.

"Better you save it for the evening meal, Haelan. Or breakfast." Alaria interjected.

Noone argued that.

The "daytime" glare across the fog-filled landscape that surrounded them was definitely shifting to the west.

"We should continue on." Braddok mentioned as he wiped a few shrimp-puff crumbs from his week-old tunic. "There's only a few hours of daylight left."

The party gathered up their things and assumed their marching order, intent on following the mound and down the opposite side.

As they descended the opposite slop, a sound came from the reeds and weeds around the base of the mound.

Four, then six, then ten lizardmen emerged from the swampy vegetation all around them at the base of the mound.

"Yer kiddin' me!" Duor burst.

"Least they didn't distrub our lunch." responded Haelan softly.

Weapons were already drawn and pointed on both sides. A combat seemed imminent.

The lizardmen were, mostly hunched. But still large and broad of shoulder. The one standing seemed to top out at seven-feet tall. They possessed, from what the party could see, bone tipped spears and fang-edged swords.

Thick forked tongues flicked out from lizard or snake-like extended snouts and lips. The scales about their head and shoulders seemed much heavier than the rest of their torsos. Thick tails, reminiscent of an alligator or crocodile, flicked back and forth behind heavily-scaled thighs and lightly-scaled shins.

Then a call went up from one of the lizardmen on their flank. It...he?...was hissing and pointing at Fen.

A couple of gutteral growls and hisses later from the standing "commander" and the whole company of reptilian folk disappeared with all speed into the mists of the swamp with so much as a "by your leave."

"What was that about?" Braddok asked his companions, sincerely confused.

"It seems," Alaria, who was next to the druid and stared at him questioningly, "they were afraid of Fen."

"HA! Afraid of the half-blood?! Seriously? Well, not as bad as bein' 'fraid o' fairies." the dwarf said pointedly at Festus.

The satyr frowned a return.

"We should track them and take their treasure! Festus, find their tracks!" Duor shouted.

"We'll do no such thing." Alaria stated plainly. "They left us alone. We will do the same. May the Blue Star grant we not cross paths again."

"But..." Duor began to protest.

"You are interested in the dragon treasure, are you not, friend dwarf?" Fen asked casually.

"Well...yes, but..." Duor tried to defend himself. He thought for a second. "Maybe they know where that is! Dragon..biiiiig lizard...lizardfolk? It could be a lead!"

"Why did they seem scared of you, Fen?" Haelan asked innocently. The dwarf seemed to be able to ignore him easily enough. The daelvar had begun to learn to do the same...though he still felt badly for being rude.

"I do not know, friend Hilltender." Fen answered honestly.

Alaria and Erevan looked at the druid.

"I really don't know!" Fen repeated. "The lizardfolk are a superstitious lot...but not, necessarily, to use your iteration, friend Goldshield, 'evil.' They are capable warriors, to be sure...and we are, for all intents and purposes on their turf.

"Perhaps they've never seen a half-elf before?...or a leaf-tip spear?...or one of the Ancient Order? I cannot say." the half-elf supposed.

"What I can say is they are particularly territorial. And if they are here..." Fen began.

"Then, we are in their territory." Braddok finished. His tactician mind began opening up and recalling things of his experience and tutoring and training that he did not like at all.

"Close ranks." Braddok said with more command than any of the companions were used to. "I want a 3-4-1 formation."

"A whaaat?" Haelan replied.

Braddok set to redirecting the marching order, guarding the magess foremost. Though he did not know why.

"We'll try, Braddok, but this terrain is not conducive to a wide march." noted Festus.

So, with Braddok. Festus (for his tracking ability and knowledge), and Coerraine in the fore, followed by [left to right] Erevan, Alaria, Duor (insisting he be immediately behind the Redstar Knight), and Haelan in the next rank, with Fen bringing up the rear....with Buttercream "as she feels comfortable" (and the fact that Fen averred to the commanding swordsman that the ferret was not under his control!)

"Let us hope that we exit their territory with all speed." Braddok posed.

The party, cautiously, finished their descent of the curious mound in the midst of the swamp and continued along the broadest, most solid path they could find.

A few hours of marching later, the party stopped to make camp.

Erevan and/or Festus noticed lizardmen shadowing them but keeping their distance, until the day's light was fading into evening. Though the party continued on for a few more hours, the lizardmen were not seen or noticed.

"It is too cold for them." proposed Fen as an explanation. "They are lizards, afterall. This level of cold does not agree with them. Prdobably have retreated underground to their own lair.

"I would propose we get to moving before first light." the druid cautiously offered.

None of the company slept soundly at the start of that night.

But then, they didn't really have much chance before Haelan and Fen were rousing them in the midst of their slumber.

The night was particularly chilly and an occasional breeze moaned through the bare branches of the surrounding trees and whistled through the tall swamp grasses.

The first watch had gone off without incident, though Braddok and Festus were decidedly on edge from their odd run-in with the troupe of lizardmen.

Despite the chill, they'd let the small campfire run its course, down to embers, fearing the light would be too tempting a beacon for lizardmen or giant insanely venomous snakes or whatever other predators the Feldmere had in store for them.

Fen and Haelan agreed when they were roused. The daelvar puffing into his gloved hands occasionally to ward off the chill. He watched as Buttercream stretched and rose and disappeared into the night. It seemed, to Haelan, since they'd entered the swamp, the ferret was fond of hunting while Fen was awake/on watch. But, she always managed to return before they broke camp in the morning and had no trouble maintaining pace with her many two-legged comrades.

Haelan said a silent prayer to Faerantha that their fuzzy companion be safe in her wanderings.

Fen, as was his usual tack, moved to a place of clustered trees and/or undergrowth along the perimeter of the camp and, with a wink and a smile, quickly faded from few wrapped in the blending enchantments of his sacred druid's cloak. Every now and again, the halfling might pick out the outline of his leaf-tip spear or a stray tress of orange hair poking out from a rounded "head-sized" knot of bark...but they were always momentary and quickly meshed in again with the illusion.

Haelan blew into his cupped hands again and debated the possibility of using his enchanted bowl to "magic up" some hot chocolate. But, he decided against it and chided himself for his selfishness when the party was becoming increasingly dependent on the magic of the stone bowl to feed themselves. Maybe, the daelvar cleric mused, he would suggest to Erevan and festus to do some hunting the next day. There had to be some marsh deer or rabbits or something suitable to eat that didn't need to be "magicked up."

He smiled to himself as his thoughts turned to his mother's rabbit stew.

Then he saw the first one. A dark shape whizzed across the edge of the limited light from the glow of the dying fire. Haelan jumped from the fright but figured it was a bat. A large bat, to be sure but nothing so unusu-WOAH! There it was again...or antoher one? Another two? Wow they were big...and fast...and whipped around in the air completely silent.

Unnerving, to be sure. But just bats, Haelan reassured himself.

"HAELAN!" Fen called out from his hidden resting place across the campsite.

Haelan's mind heard the half-elf's words just as a loud "whizzing" sound passed very near his right ear. Then there was a high-pitched "screeee" from just behind him. Only after all of that did the druid's form come into focus as the cleric turned around to see the Feldmere's latest horror!

Thoroughly skewered upon the leaf-tip spear and pegged to the ground was Haelan's "bat."

It was a foot and a half long, a dirty brownish grey, with six grasping legs with little hookish "feet". Its bat-like wings fluttered momentarily until it stilled, completely dead. It's head was broad and flat with huge yellowy eyes and another foot-long...was it a "beak?"...not a "snout", Haelan mused...but a long slender needle-like protrustion where a nose or snout would be.

"Ugh! That's disgusting what is it?" Haelan was questioning before the realization that he'd notced more than one of the things! "Fen, there..." he began to cry.

"To arms! To arms, friends! We are under at-AAAK!" the druid was hollering at the top of his lungs as another of the things swooped down onto his back and struck its needle-like "nose-beak-thing" into his shoulder even as the insectoid hooked legs clamped down around him to secure the creature on the half-elf's back.

Haelan, on pure instinct and horror flung his magic shield toward the thing on Fen even as he heard Alaria scream in surprise from her bedroll.

Unfortunately, the daelvar missed his target and banged loudly off of a tree behind the assaulted half-elf. More unfortunately, the shield's mystic return was impeded by the head of the half-elf.

"OO!" Haelan winced visibly at the loud clang off the druid's cranium. He managed to get out a, "Sorry Fennn!" as the shield returned to his waiting hand.

The druid, thoroughly knocked out, crumpled to the ground, the creature still clamped onto his back with its beak stuck into the druid's meaty shoulder.

A moment later, an arrow struck clean through the bat-thing slurping loudly on the half-elf. A second arrow from Erevan's bow, the elf still crouching in the place he had been "resting",sent the creature flying off of his "kiili."

"Stirges!" cried out Festus as the satyr swung with his blades and hopped around in a panic, attempting to keep the creatures at bay moreso than to actually strike or do any damage.

"Gods' Blessings, goat-butt. Now hit something!" Duor returned from his position, crouching unceremoniously beneath and behind Coerraine shield, which the paladin was using to bat away more of the creatures dive-bombing the campsite.

The Redstar Knight was jobbing into the air with a distinct lack of results. The things were barely visible until they were practically on top of him and completely silent in their flight. His spear was proving most ineffectual.

An arcane syllable was followed by a bright burst of blue-white electrical light flared as another "stirge" flew, trailing smoke and sparks, from the position of Alaria's bedroll.

It hopped a couple of times before coming to a smoldering lump at Haelan's har-topped feet.

It twitched once before Haelan slammed his mace down upon it...just in case. The creature "splattered" most visibly and audibly all over the halfling's feet.

"Augh! GROSS!" Haelan protested.

Erevan, who now stood over Fen's unconscious form, let another arrow fly in Haelan's direction. His bolt flew with elvin accuracy to skewer another of the creatures right out of mid-air somewhere behind the halfling.

The wounded creature made "scree-ing" sounds and fluttered about, though unable to regain flight, until Haelan ran over and again, splattered the stirge-thing's guts all over the ground.

With the increased light from Alaria's staff, Braddok was actually enjoying "batting" at the creatures with his newly purchased morningstar [Author/DM's note: the spiked ball/mace-head kind, not the variety with a chain]. The dark-haired warrior had struck down two of the things but was having trouble making contact with a third...as he was trying to aid the paladin while, at the same time, avoid Coerraine's less-than-controlled attacks with his spear.

Another of the stirges was able to land upon Alaria's back and shoulder. The magess shrieked as the needle-like proboscis sank through her cloak and robe into he back.

Festus, finally, made contact with the thing on Alaria's back, severing it in two. In his panicked zeal, however, the strike of his second blade also managed to slice into the wizard.

"OH goat-patties! Alaria? Alaria?! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! HAELAN quickly!" the satyr ranted in apologetic surprise as Alaria slumped forward to her knees.

Alaria maintained a grip of her staff, which was all that held her up for the moment, though the electrical light filling the campsite began to flicker and spark and dim. She grasped her shoulder (she could not reach where the wounds actually were) with a stunned silent surprise on her face. She was in a pain she had yet to experience in her short-lived adventuring career. A grin began to form on her lips as she thought to herself, "Here lies Alaria 'the great and powerful Stormrider', felled by a drunken lusty lout of a satyr."

Her vision was just beginning to cloud and darken as she heard Haelan's familiar voice close to her and began to notice the scent of honey and pine trees.

The pain seemed to warm away and her vision cleared in an instant to see Haelan standing before her with a concerned look on his face. The Redstar Knight and warrior stood over her with similar looks on their faces while the satyr seemed practically in tears.

Fen rose with Erevan's assistance, rubbing the back of his head and tenderly touching the large bump that had formed during his 'nap'. "That was quite a clobber, friend Hilltender. But we seem to have won. So that's something."

The druid then whispered some words of his secret tongue and a feint greenish glow later, he stretched and cracked his neck, side to side.

"Ah, that's much better. How'd we do?" the half-elf said scanning the sliced, skewered and utterly smashed remnants of their attackers. His gaze came to rest on the gore-smattered feet of Haelan.

"We won...and nobody died." Duor said dryly in Festus' direction.

"I said I'm sorry!" the satyr defended.

The Feldmere: Part IV

"I don't know how much longer we can keep this up, Braddok." Alaria said as she slumped down upon a fallen log on the third of the narrow and long mounds they had encountered in the passed two days.

The other party members, similarly, flopped to the ground.

Two more days and nights had passed since the "attack of stirges."

They had fended off another encounter with a larger group of lizardmen with a single "entanglement" incantation and Fen shaking his spear in their direction shouting "ooga-booga!" The reptilian warband had gone fleeing wildly at that.

They had had to alter direction three times to maintain their trail on some "walkable" ground, winding around rivulets, large ponds of muck and noticeable pits of sinking mud.

Festus was sure they were still heading, more or less, in the right direction.

The increasingly colder nights had taunted them a "will o' wisp" (according to Fen and Festus), a roving troll who was not stupid enough to take on so large a group of armed warriors...and his return with three friends in the early morning hours.

Erevan and Festus had gone hunting more than once and were able to return with no more than a small collection of swamp rats.

Alaria was sore and tired and cold and they seemed no closer to this alleged massive ancient fortress than they were over a week ago.

Haelan, similarly, had begun arguing for their retrurn to Daenfrii "...or Hawkview...or anywhere else besides this accursed place." the morning after the stirge attack.

Festus again took out the map and consulted it with Braddok.

"There!" cried the satyr, pointing out over the mists to a broad open flat area beyond the stretch of trees before them. "That must be this lake!" the satyr indicated something on the map.

"And just beyond that, this mound here, that is supposed to be ruins of Nor Gorthok." the satyr concluded with satisfaction.

Haelan "wished up" a warming bowl of "Hollow's chili" (a tomato-based concoction of chicken and rabbit and park thoroughly seasoned with garlic and herbs). The halfling began doling out portions to the companions with the magic pestle/spoon.

"That looks far." Haelan said. He looked out to where the satyr was indicating and put half of Duor's first ladle-full in his lap. It was almost-but-not-quite a whine.

The dwarf, in his own exhaustion and deep sniffing in the spicy meat dish didn't even notice.

"We can be to this edge of the lake by nightfall." said Braddok. The warrior also stared out where the ranger had indicated, not noticing Haelan's disappointed look.

"Very well." Alaria began, taking on the commanding tone she had not emplyed since they'd begun this trek. "If, in two days time, we have not come upon the ruins, we turn back and make all haste for Daenfrii for the winter."

"I second!" Haelan said enthusiastically.

Coerraine looked to Duor as the dwarf stuff his bearded face with a large spoonful of the chili.

"Make it three days and yeh'll get no argument from me. Dragon treasure ain't easy to come by, to be sher. Else ev'ryone'd have some!

"An' I'd hate to be in spittin' distance and walk away. But this 'Mere's a death-trap an' that's a fact!" the dwarf finished.

Coerraine nodded his, given, agreement with the dwarf's wishes.

Erevan, who didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation wandered along the 20 foot wide, 60 foot long top of the mound on which they found themselves. He crouched down and peer off to their south. The elf was almost sure he could see another of the mounds just breaking the low-lying fogs.

Fen came up behind the crouching elf and followed his gaze. "Yes. That appears to be another one." the druid agreed with the elf's unspoken observation. The druid turned to look behind them.

He could see the one they'd crossed that morning and then pointed out a fourth one to their north and west that they hadn't notice in the fog as they'd passed.

"There's another." Fen said simply.

"'Nother wut?!" Duor said with some concern as he put down his spoon in favor of the hilt of his ethereal dagger.

"Another mound." Alaria clarified. "I wonder how they came to be?" asked the magess of no one in particular. "And why just here?" she said after scanning the rest of their surroundings. "How many is that? I haven't been keeping track."

"That'd be six, counting the one with the snake." Festus said after some quick calculation.

"'Six swan knights and Six swan maids'...isn't that what the poem said?" Haelan quoted, off hand, as he moved on to dish out some chili for Braddok.

Erevan, who had returned to the companions' resting place raised an eyebrow at the halfling's simple memory.

"Ugh. [chew] That ain't never good." mentioned Duor. "Wut is it, point-ear?"

"Nothing...nothing..." Erevan began before pausing in apparent thought. "Unless..."

"Unless, Erevan?" Alaria questioned. She took another dainty bite as she waited for an answer. The chili was particularly tasty, reminiscent of the heavily spiced dishes of her homeland, and warming.

"In the ages passed...before the rise of Men...before the ShiStaliiri made their home in the southern woods...it is said the elves made their burials in sacred mounds...warded by enchantment. Though we, my people, I mean, do not carry on such practice." Erevan explained.

Duor leaped up from his seat beside Alaria. "Are yeh telling me we're sittin' on an elf-tomb!"

Haelan made the curious hand symbol he sometimes did as a "warding" gesture.

"There's no cause for alarm, friend Duor. The enchantments are only for those who would enter such places...Or so I was told as a boy by my mother...She was well-versed in the ways and histories of my father's kind." Fen expained, further.

Alaria recalled tales her studies of Selurian history, much of which was adopted in the dawning years of her own realm."The Selurians, also...If I recall correctly."

"HOT DAMN!" Duor said with a great deal of pleasure. "Wut're we waitin' fer?!"

This outburst confused his companions.

"Are yeh's allll daft or just the hairfoot?!" Duor said as way of explanation.

Seeing no response forthcoming, the dwarf continued.

"We're sitting...and have been passing by!...mounds full of ancient elf...or, even better, Selurian treasure!" the dwarf explained as he hastily gathered up his belongings.

"If they are so, they aren't going anywhere, Duor. Finish your lunch." Alaria said calmly, though the prospect, she had to admit, was somewhat appealing.

"If they are so," amended Coerraine, sternly, "we are not grave-robbers!" The Redstar Knight turned to Alaria with purpose, "I must protest this course of action."

"Yes! We should not mess with the dead." Haelan added nervously. The poor hairfooted priest's mind was filled with images of all-manner of ravaging undead creatures.

"'Sides, who knows what unnatural stuff we might unleash by disturbing them! Right Fen?! Right? Erevan?" the daelvar looked to his elf-folk companions in hopeful agreement.

"Maybe we should move our luncheon...ya know, outta respect." Haelan looked nervously at the cold damp swamp grass beneath his feet.

"Aw, shut up yeh! Yer belly's as yellow as yer foot-hairs." Duor argued.

"I do not think they mind us taking a peaceful meal, friend daelvar." Fen intoned with a light smile. "However, as to breaching the mounds...if they are, indeed, burial mounds, I too would argue against."

"Course you would, tree-hugger." Duor said with obvious disdain. He was similarly scowling at Coerraine for countermanding him.

"We shall see after we've eaten and rested a bit. Now, Festus? Braddok? Please sit. Eat." Alaria spoke up to diffuse the current debate.

The party passed the next hour in quiet and calm food and conversation.

Finally, as they gathered themselves to continue on, Alaria moved to the edge of the mound on which they stood and intoned her "Arkanavis" cantrip to detect mystic energies.

The purple energy surrounding her outstretched hand and she moved it, slowly around the perimeter of the mound.

To her violet-glowing eyes, the mound on which they'd just lunched did give off a dweomer. As did, at the edge of her vision the mound to the south. To the west and north, she could not see or determine. But these two, most certainly contained powerful enchantments.

This news altered some of the companions attitudes a bit and Coerraine invoked his god-given sight to see if he could make out any "evil." None was forthcoming...but, the young paladin had to admit, he didn't actually know if it could penetrate earth.

"The grass and dirt isn't evil." he said with a smile.

Then his gaze passed into the distance, in the direction of the broad open space before them that Festus presumed to be a lake. The Redstar shuddered a bit to see practically the entirety of the horizon beyond the presumed "lake" gave off a faint glow, perceived by his gold-glowing eyes, as wholely menacing.

"There, however...I do think we will find what we seek." the paladin said, staring beyond the lake.

"Well, ain't that just grand!" Duor said. "SO, easy pickin's elf-treasure or goin' on to the belly of the beast? Wut say yeh's?"

"I am confused, Duor...was it not your suggestion that we go find the dragon's treasure. The great big evil dragon...that we knew to be evil and deadly down through the ages of legend?" Haelan prodded gently. He was making jest at the dwarf's expense, yes. But he was equally concerned at the prospect that their presumed destination was giving off "evil vibes" even at their current distance.

"Whatever we do here," began Coerraine, "I can not...will not leave this swamp without expunging whatever evil...that is."

"Yeh'll do wut I tells yeh, Goldilocks. Yer bound to my protection." Duor argued to many of the company's discomfort.

"Alas, my Charge, you are correct. And seeing you out of the Feldmere, if such is your wish, is what I shall do. But once I have placed you in a secure region. I will return here and see...that...wiped off the face of Orea." Coerraine countered, to everyone's surprise, without facing the dwarf.

"Of course..." added the paladin with an uncharacteristic sly grin on his face, that only Alaria and Haelan caught, "then any treasure I obtain shall be mine, alone."

"LIKE HELLS!" burst the dwarf. "I didn't say we weren't goin' there. I just said, let's see what's in these mounds first!" quickly amended the dwarven rogue.

"Now, boss lady Magess, how'd we get into these magic mounds?" the dwarf offered as a quick change of subject.

"We shouldn't..." began Haelan.

Fen and Erevan just looked at each other. The elf shrugged at the half-elf.
"They could be Selurian in origin, as the magess proposed...Or lizardfolk, for that matter. We just don't know." Erevan said.

"However!" Erevan spoke up, "if we do find evidence that it is an elvin burial place...I respectfully request that we leave it to rest and take nothing we might find from it."

"That is agreeable." Alaria nodded, fully agreeing with the compromise. "I wouldn't suggest any other course."

"Very well." said Fen. "What is the will of the group?"

"If nothing else, perhaps we might find some lost or forgotten Selurian magic that could aid us in our further pursuits." Alaria reasoned for the, hopeful, benefit of Coerraine and Haelan.

A short vote later, it was decided they should at least attempt to find an entrance into the mound they had eaten on.

--Next: The Feldmere: Part V "Into the Barrow of the Swan Knight"--

Alaria was able to circle about three-quarters of the mound before her magic sight faded.

It seemed to her that the western side of the mound was noticably stronger in its aura than the east.

With slow deliberate purpose, the Alaria, Fen, Erevan, Festus and Duor wandered around the base and slopes of the mound. While Coerraine, Braddok and Haelan kept a nervous watch, as best they could, on their surroundings. Buttercream had wandered off again as they'd lunched and startled the halfling with her return, crunching on a large muddy rat-looking thing.

"We really must work on your manners, Miss 'BC'" Haelan said softly to the ferret, stroking her neck and sure not to go anywhere near the disgusting creature that disappeared with a few loud "crunches" into the ferret's throat.

Buttercream just looked blankly at the daelvar and licked her muddied and bloodied chops.

"Ah, here! What's this?" questioned Festus to the rest as he discovered, with a firm tap of his hoofed foot that caused him to trip, a small mound, hard lump in the ground.

It was covered in moss and muck which Erevan cleared to reveal a triangular white stone sticking out of the ground near the western base of of the mound.

With a bit of digging and pulling away of soft dirt, it became obvious the stone was the top of a thoroughly buried vertical stone, like the one they'd found at the other mound. On one side was carved the same strange elf-like writing. They had only revealed a few inches of the thing and the rest of the thoroughly ancient rock was still encased in the ground, but it was, most definitely the same writing.

With the aid of the larger, stronger, men, they managed to clear away enough of the side with the writing to see about a foot.

Alaria and Erevan had been having a hushed discussion before the magess returned to the stone and pulled out the small elvish spellbook form the dying sorcerer in Silver Falls.

"Let us pray that this stone reveals something to us. We only have one shot at this until I can recopy the incantation from Erevan's tome." the wizard said as she flipped through the small book to the page she wanted.

"Imporkuel Ap Rehnizus" <mage spell: Comprehend Languages> she read from the leatherbound booklet. As the words passed her lips, the writing on the page glowed and flared a moment before, by the time the whole spell had been read, the page disintegrated in a puff of bluish smoke and dust.

Alaria bent down and peered at the stone. She had never used this particular spell of revelation before and raised her eyebrows in surprise to watch as, it appeared to her only, the chiseled lines of the writing of the stone began moving and swirling about on the rock face.

The lettering repositioned, crisc-crossing and curving serpentine over themselves, into words she could understand.

"'Here lies...If...thrak...Ifthrakuel...the Brave...Knight of Gorth...no...Gorathgraard <DM's pronounciation note: "gor-ATH'-gray-ard">...'" Alaria paused as the "writing" beneath the inscription changed, not into words, but a picture of a swan upon a shield.

"...And?" Duor blurted when the magess did not say anything further. "How do we get in?"

"That's all it says, Duor." Alaria said calmly, if somewhat defeated. "It does not say anything more."

She placed her hand upon the top of the stone to move herself around to see if there were any discernable writing on the other sides of the stone.

"What's that?!" Festus blurted as her hand had been upon the stone for a moment.

Everyone, naturally, reeled about with weapons at the ready to gaze up the slope where the satyr pointed.

They saw only a grassy muddy slope.

"No...it was there. Do it again!" Festus said to Alaria.

"Do what?" said the now standing magess, her staff in hand for some expected assault.

"Whatever it was you just did...I saw something there...a flicker in the slope. It could have been a doorway..." Festus replied.

Erevan and Fen went up to where Festus was indicating and gave the area a thorough once over, prodding and running their bow and spear along parts of the ground.

Alaria bent down and touched the top of the white stone again. She left her hand there a moment and watched where the elf and half-elf, now joined by the satyr, were prying.

Nothing seemed to happen.

She released the stone and then went back to the side that had the writing. She placed her hand on the stone and repeated the epithet.

The three sylvan adventurers took a step back in alarm as the grassy knoll beneath their feet did, in fact, seem to ripple for a moment and then went still.

Alaria concentrated hard on the stone, now turning to her lessons in magic - How to focus her mind...How to maintain an effect...How to...Yes! She understood...or at least believed she did.

"Erevan, here! Place your hand here and, when I'm ready, repeat what I said." Alaria instructed.

The rest of the party had moved over to where the curious effect had occured while Erevan switched places with the magess.

She placed the butt of her staff against the sloping ground. "Now!" she commaned as she called up the incantation of opening.

Erevan began to again say the words from the stone, with his hand upon it.

The ground did, again ripple and the grasses flickered into and out of view as Alaria spoke.

"Venta norx!" <mage spell: Knock> Alaria spoke loudly and tapped the end of her staff upon the hillside again.

Suddenly, the grass and dirt faded from view to reveal a small, roughly foot foot square, indentation in the side of the mound. It was paved and wreathed in solid stone blocks with a single cross-bar supporting the top of the opening.

The companions looked with surprise and awe at the magically revealed doorway.

"Gotta give it to yeh, boss lady. That is well done." Duor smiled broadly.
"Let's get us some elf...er...I mean, Selurian gold."

Alaria just smiled triumphantly at her companions and, with a thought, caused the top of her staff to flare with the electrical ball of flickering light.

Haelan, with a soft-spoken invocation, set the pinecone-shaped head of his mace ablaze with his own yellowish glow.

One-by-one, the Stormriders entered the barrow.

The first chamber was tight and cramped, only twenty feet across and long, though thankfully the ceiling had risen to allow the human-folk to stand upright.

Haelan jumped immediately at the site of large skeleton in one of the corners. A broken spear shaft and tattered loincloth seemed to be all that remained of the large thing.

Duor examined the skeleton. The skull was most noticeably not human or elf, looking to everyone's guess like a lizardman. The line of bones that would have been the poor creature's tail confirmed that.

"Well, not elves, it seems." Duor said happily, though lamented the remains did not hold anything of value.

"Nor Selurians." Fen added.

"But lizardmen do not employ enchantments like the ones masking this place." Erevan was sure. "At least none that I've ever heard of."

"It could be the poor fellow just wandered in here and got trapped." Braddok posited.

This cause Haelan to back toward the still open entrance and look nervously outside.

Two simple pillars and a slab of stone across the top indicated a doorway that was simply filled with solid stone.

Duor examined it thoroughly while Alaria continued to study and stare at the strange writings on the pillar.

"What's it say?" asked Festus.

"It doesn't make any sense...except...ah...wait..." Alaria jostled her way around the crouching dwarf to the other pillar and looked intently at those writings.

"Yes...ok. This makes sense." she said more to herself than anyone else.

"What makes sense?" Haelan questioned from the rear.

"The writing goes from floor to ceiling..." her face following the light of her staff which she was moving up along the pillar. "No elf tongue, nor Old Selurian was written in such a fashion, that I recall."

Erevan and Haelan each confirmed the wizard's supposition.

"Alaria, what does it say?" Coerraine questioned after assuring himself, through his gifted vision, that there was no "evil" in the chamber or door that he could perceive.

"This says, again, 'Here lies Ifthrakuel, the Third. Bravest Knight of our lord Gorathiel...may his light shine forever..." Alaria moved back to the left pillar and continued to read.

"Slayer of trolls and giants...Defeat-er?...no...Defender of the Shining Spire...Brought low by the...Dark?...Drake?...It's...it's waring off..." Alaria said in some panic and concentrated harder to maintain the enchantment.

"...the Demon-Drake...Cursed be...herd?...no...her darkness...Then there's something more here...but..." She ran the lit end of her staff along the thoroughly dust covered top-stone, "That's it..the magic has left me."

Alaria frowned at the convaluted lettering behind the dust. There was mroe there...she knew it.

"WELL, bully for If-thats-cool. Sounds like he'll have some nice blades and armor if nothing else." Duor said, distractedly to Braddok, who stood at his side. "Not finding any traps along here. Looks like all we need to do is push." he turned the companions.

"Ok, Pally? Braddok? Get to shovin'." the dwarf rubbed his hands together.

With a disapproving gaze from both of the men, the warriors did as "bidden."

Several heaves later revealed just enough of a space to one side for the companions to barely squeeze through.

Erevan noted the distinctly dry dusty odor of the cool air beyond the slab.

Duor and the broadly shouldered warriors needed a bit of help, pulling from one side and pushing from the other, but they made it.

This chamber was much larger, maybe forty feet across and almost twice as long.

This confused Duor and Erevan who both noted that the mound, itself, only extended about sixty feet.

The stone encased chamber was almost entirely bare of furnishings or obstruction other than an eight by four foot sarcophagus in the middle.

The walls, similarly, were flat but adorned with grandiose paintings that were remarkably preserved in the dry, sealed chamber. They portrayed scenes of huge battles. Brightly armored knights, rays of light shining off of them, with shields, spears and swords and winged helmets did battle with trolls and snake-like dragons and winged demon-looking things.

The largest of the armored warriors seemed to have great white wings coming from his back and floated above the other warriors.

Another scene showed a handsome armored figure in a serene looking glade with a similarly beautiful white gowned maiden having a picnic. A great white stag stood at the edge of the trees and white, elaborately plumed birds and snowy white squirrels filled the tree branches. Fen examined these closely and was particularly curious about the portrayal of the birds, which did not match any variety with which he was familiar.

Duor was "casing" the sarcophagus. He carefully ran his hands over the stone carvings around the sides, shaped like pillars and trees with other images of a sword-wielding knight with a shield on which was a raised swan. He occasionally tapped at this or that part of the sculptures with a slender "wand" like pick. Coerraine stood close by.

"Wheeeeew." whistled Haelan from the far end of the chamber. "Look at this!" the daelvar called to Braddok who had been staying near Alaria as she and Erevan perused one of scenes on the walls.

From the pale glow of the halfling's mace, an object set in a shallow alcove a couple of feet off the floor of the chamber, glittered and sparkled.

"Hot dang!" Duor said and quickly left his examinations only to slump his shoulders in defeat when he arrived at the Hilltender's side.

"Well, t'ain't diamond...still might fetch a price if we could get it outta here." the dwarf murmured under his beard. "Nice craftsmanship, I'll give 'em that."

The other companions moved closer to see the five feet tall crystal carving of a humanoid male. "His" face showed no emotion, staring out in endless vigil over of the chamber. He was armored in rounded scales with a shield at his feet (again with a swan carved upon it) and sword in hand. Cascading off the top and down the sides of the figure were what appeared to be feathers that fell to its feet.

"Do you think he's an angel?" Haelan said to anyone in general.

"Perhaps all of them are angels?" Coerraine supposed, noting the winged figures in the paintings. "Perhaps this 'White Swan Prince' was some sort of immortal of the higher planes."

"I was dead and the only wings I saw were on a black sphinx." Braddok mentioned...feeling the need to contribute to the conversation. "But, seeing as there is no 'treasure' for us to claim here...and it does seem to be a burial chamber for a noble warrior, I say we leave it in peace."

"Aw c'mon, Braddok. Yeh don't want to see what kind of enchanted sword this guy used? Might be a good'n." the dwarf coaxed. "'Sides, it's obviously all of the loot is in the sarcophagus. Help me open it."

"He does seem to have been quite the champion." Festus added taking in the sparkling crystal statue.

After some assistance from Festus and Braddok and, reluctantly, Coerraine, Duor slumped to the ground huffing and puffing. The top simply would not budge.

"Hey, Alaria, got another of that opening spell?" the dwarf asked plainly.

"I'm afraid not, Duor." she responded absently, still examining the statue and wall paintings. "Nor," she added after the request had really sunk in, "would I use it to desecrate a hero's tomb."

"That's all I was waiting to hear." Coerraine said. "That will be enough, Duor. We should leave this place in peace."

The dwarf had gone back to examining the carvings around the base of the large stone box. "S'gotta be around here somewhere...AHA!" the dwarf burst triumphantly.

With a flick of his iron pick, Duor caught an edge in an outstretched arm with a sword pointed at a dragon-looking thing. The whole arm and sword moved, with difficulty, to swing down a few degrees.

With a loud "hsssss", displacing dust in all directions, the top of the sarcophagus lifted an inch or so and rotated a few degrees to the side.

"HA! Let's hear it for the dwarf!" Duor preened as he jumped up from the floor and shoved passed Braddok to get to the narrow opening. His celebratory exclamations overshadowing the grating of more stone behind them.

"Wait! NO! The door!" Erevan yelled. He and Fen raced to the stone slab through which they'd entered as it slid, the feet or so it need to reseal with a dull thud.

Braddok and Coerraine now raced for the slab also. The for males heaved to no avail on their only point of egress.

"Ohhhh goat-patties." muttered Festus.

"Yeah, let's hear it for the dwarf, indeed!" hollered Braddok over his shoulder as he and the other men continued to try to move the entry slab.

"ALARIA, behind you!" yelled Haelan next.

Everyone, including Alaria, turned in alarm to see the crystaline statue move and loosen itself from the crystals forming the winged alcove in which he stood.

Every jerky motion made a multitude of "tinkling" sounds, like icicles falling or the tears of a crystal chandelier all clinking together at once.

Alaria had back far enough away to avoid the slashing swing of the statue's crystal sword blade.

"Duor, I swear by Manat, if we get out of here..." the magess' angry words trailed off as she raced back to put the sarcophagus (and the dwarf) between herself and the crystalline guardian.

"Swear all yeh like, magess. I prefer it in fact." said the dwarf as the green smoky glow of his ethereal dagger whipped out of its sheathe. "But crystal knight or no, I'm havin' this treasure!

"Nobody gets between a dwarf an' his loot!" Duor shouted in challenge to the statue.

The dwarf easily avoided an overhead swing from the crystal knight, tumbling to the side and regaining his feet in a single smooth motion.

Duor's bushy eyebrows rose high on his head when he noticed the crystal blade had not shattered against the stone floor, as he had hoped. but instead left a foot long gash in the rock.

"Eh...'cept his personal paladin of course. Get over here Goldilocks! Might need a bit o' protectin' right about now!" Duor amended as he dove and rolled away from another sword swipe.

Again, the sword blade dug into the stone of the floor.

Duor also noticed an eerie chill emanating from his facetted foe.

"It's awfully cold!" he called as a general statement to his comrades' benefit.

The Redstar Knight was already racing for the dwarf's position, shield in hand and invoking a "smite" from his Lord and God. The young paladin, also, noted the chill of the air surrounding the statue. It bit at him, even through his armor.

"Haelan, the statue is obviously enchanted, we could use..." Alaria began to say.

"On it!" answered the Hilltender briefly before beginning to invoke his Hill Mother.

"Deisa Faerantha, dicteus beneficia spiritos y tiem paras!"

As he charged forth, Haelan did not notice the lack of the Blessing invocation's normal honey-colored glow.

Alaria, however, did notice. She turned to look at Erevan and Braddok.

The elf let fly with an arrow from his enchanted quiver. The bolt did strike the statue in the upper arm and stuck. His second bolt missed by a hair to shatter against the stone wall.

But the bow was not glowing. Neither was Braddok's sword.

"Haelan, something's not right..." Alaria called even as she called to mind the verse for the spell of energy shards.

With a battle-cry echoing through the chamber, Coerraine stabbed at the statue, but the holy aura of his spear blade seemed to flicker and disappear as he struck. The blow, which should have felled an ogre, skated harmlessly off of the crystal warriors swan-emblazoned shield.

"Everx zaar!" called Alaria. Two bolts of blue-violet energy streaked to the statue's back and blasted upon it. But when the impressive looking light dispersed, there was almost no visible damage.

Haelan struck at the back of the statue's knee and though the blow was true, there was little more than a crack. Haelan almost lost his grip on the mace at the reverberations that shook up his arm. "What the...?" puzzled as the daelvar as he caught a swing of the crystal sword on his enchanted shield.

Festus' and Braddok's assaults similarly seemed to do little to damage the thing, but did take some minor chips off the statue's sparkling edges.

Festus jumped back after his strike. Alaria had not gotten used to seeing how effortlessly the satyr could move himself with a single good push off his goat haunches. The ranger landed a good fifteen feet away from the statue.

"Brrrr. What is that?! Like walking into a glacier at Midwinter." the ranger mentioned before again charging forth with his falchion and magic short sword flailing before him.

"Maybe we are fighting an angel?" Fen posed, as he came up behind Alaria.

The warrior's next swing made contact with Festus, sending the satyr wheeling to the floor with a long bloody gash across his chest.

The statue's next swing was caught, again, on Coerraine's shield as the paladin attempted to move into a position between it and the satyr. The paladin struck out with his spear only to have it jarred to the side without damage.

"Here's what I think'a magic statues!" hollered Duor, who had slunk into a position behind the statue as Haelan ran over to the sorely wounded satyr.

The dwarf struck forward with impressive accuracy and the ethereal dagger sunk deeply into the statue's crystalline waist.

The whirling of the wounded supernatural warrior wrenched the dagger's handle from the dwarf's hand even as the crystal sword fell into the dwarf's shoulder with as much ease as the ethereal dagger had pierced the crystal.

The dwarf fell to the ground, bleeding from a deep wound to his shoulder.

Coerraine swiftly rounded the crystal knight to stand before the dwarf before the next attempted blow clanged loudly off the paladin's shield.

"Get back!" called Fen. But the warrior and Redstar Knight did not heed his warning. The druid was forced to wait to invoke his entangling spell...or think of something else.

Alaria, also, was at a lose with so many of their companions clustered around the statue.

Braddok was now the recipient of their crystal foe's diamond-like blade. He shrugged off the pain of the fairly minor blow to his swordarm. But the cold was biting into him. His fingers, even gloved, felt like ice around his sword's pommel.

"Everyone, get back!" Alaria now shouted in her most commanding tone. 'We need a clear field!"

This caught most of the warriors attentions, though Haelan was still kneeling over the bloody satyr. The golden glow of his healing magics just fading from around his hands and the concerned looking halfling stood and helped to raise the sore, but no longer bleeding, ranger and back away from the statue.

Coerraine shoved the statue with his shield and succeeded in moving it a step or two away from Duor. He turned as Braddok grabbed the bleeding dwarf and half-dragged him toward the magess and druid.

"Everx zaar!" came Erevan's cry from the back of the chamber a moment before a shard of blue-green energy raced through the room and blasted on the side of the statue's helmed head. It seemed to do nothing to damage the enchanted object, but succeeded distracting it from the retreating heroes.

The statue began to move, with purpose, toward the elf.

Fen began castign before Alaria could form the words and a flash of green lightning streaked along the floor from where Fen had slammed down the butt of his spear. The green glow faded into the floor and a moment later the statue found itself swinging at ancient roots and very thick vines that crashed up through the stones beneath its feet.

"Now what?" called Erevan as he sent two more enchanted arrows into the crystal man.

The statue's translucent blade easily sliced through the whipping vines and roots, which continued to regrow and replace themselves in constant attempts to get a grip on the statue.

"Everx imberil rex!" conjured Alaria and fanned her hands out at an angle that did not endanger any of her comrades.

Violet and red flames arced through the chamber and slammed into the statue. Several strands of vegetation caught ablaze and the figure writhed in silent futility as the flames clung to it.

There was much sizzling and hissing. Steam seemed to be pouring off of the statue. A moment after the magic fire struck it, it seemed to begin shrinking.

As the flames began to sputter and die down, it could be seen that the features of the statue were rounding...shrinking...the sword blade had all but disappeared down to the hilt, the shield was only half the size it had been originally. Then, to everyone's surprise, the crystal knight seemed to break in two, at the waist.

By the time the burning hands had entirely expended itself a single "foot" and "leg" stood on the ground with a large "lump" that had been its torso.

The rest of the "statue" was just a steaming puddle.

Erevan cautiously went over the the "remains" of their enchanted enemy. He reach out to touch the puddle and sniffed his fingers.

"Erevan don't!" Fen said with alarm.

He held his fingers up to the collected party. "It's only water." the elf said in obvious surprise.

"And tha's what happens when you get 'tween a dwarf n' his treasure." Duor said weakly. "Now...lil' healing here."

Receiving scowls from almost everyone in the party, the dwarf felt the need to amend.

"What?! Oh. t'uh. Fine...'a lil' healing here...please'?"

Alaria rolled her eyes and left the assembled party to inspect the watery remains of their "crystalline" foe. If was, to all appearances, that the statue had, in fact, simply been made of ice. Enchanted, supernaturally strong ice, yes. But ice nonetheless.

"The door didn't open." Braddok noted. "Aren't the trap doors supposed to open when you defeat the trap?" The Grinlian swordsman didn't know why he thought that...but he did.

"Put the top back on the sarcophagus." Festus posed. "That oughta reset the thing and let us move the door again."

"Like hells! Are yeh mad, goat-butt?" Duor burst.

Healan, who was in the midst of healing the wounded dwarf, frowned at the interruption.

"We'll see what's inside first. We just destroyed the guardian after all. Shoulda known...tombs always have guardians. But fair's fair! We beat the guardian, the treasure is ours! Them's the rules." Duor continued in protest.

"The rules?" Fen said with an amused grin on his face.

Braddok conceded that since they had just faced death, and the sarcophagus was already open, they might as well take a look before closing it.

With great effort by the two human men, they swung the lid to the side a bit more.

Duor raced up to peer in. "But...wuh...Haelan bring that light over here."

The daelvar cleric came over and reached his mace-head out over the top of the opening. He raised himself onto his toes to get a limited peer inside.

"I dno't see anything." the Hilltender informed the rest of the group.

Duor had stuck his whole head in the stone box. "This can't be right! Where's the treasure?! Where's the magic goodies?! We beat the guardian!"

"And we're still trapped in some swan champion's tomb." Coerraine noted. "Replace the lid."

"Buh...but..." the dwarf was reaching in to feel around the interior of the box. "It has to be an illusion. Alaria, do the magic detecty thing you do.
Something has to be here."

Alaria strode over to the open cask and, not seeing anything herself, conceded to Duor's request. A moment later, she confirmed there was no illusion nor any kind of magic in the sarcophagus.

"Why'd yeh be daft enough to build a tomb, enchant the entrance, put a great big slab of stone in front of it AND a magic icy thing to guard it if there was no treasure! There's not even a body in here!" the dwarf was beside himself.

"But look there." Alaria pointed back to the alcove where the statue-guardian had stood. "That, is most definitely magical."

The feathered wings that formed the back of the five-foot tall alcove were glowing to her mystic sight and the dweomer seemed to be increasing as she neared it.

With all of the attention on the stone slab that trapped them and the sarcophagus, noone had noticed that the carved crystalline ice that formed the feathered wings had begun to melt. Water was quietly dripping and beginning to stream off the sculpture.

"I see a light beyond it..." Haelan mentioned as he moved closer. "Do you see that?"

It was evident as the remains of the alcove continued to melt away, a light was obvious through it. Much brighter than the light was outside the mound in the mist-shrouded Feldmere.

"Put the lid back. Let's get out of here. That could be another guardian or some other threat." Coerraine proposed. It was sound tactics not fear that fueled his desire to leave this place.

Haelan tentatively reach up with his mace and tapped the melting structure. A good chunk of it gave way and crumbled to the floor of the chamber. Followed by a blast of cold air. Fresh, but cold.

A few snow flakes flew into the opening.

Alaria back away as the warriors moved forward. "Haelan, get away from there." she suggested quietly as the rest of the ice "wings" melted and crumbled out onto the floor revealing a four foot high, two foot long opening that looked out on a peaceful rolling landscape, entirely blanketed in snow.

"This is a portal..." Alaria said with more than a bit of surprise and awe.

"A portal to where?" adked Festus as peered closer at the opening.

"To where the treasure is, that's fer sher." Duor said with absolute certainty.

"We...hnnnn...don't know that." groaned Coerraine as he tried to replace the lib of the sarcophagus by himself.

"Could be to an alternate dimension...the fairy world perhaps?" Fen said in sincere curiosity.

"Or just to somewhere in our own world filled with snow...high in the Worldcrest mountains, perhaps." mused Alaria. She was thoroughly intrigued but had a limited understanding of magical portals and did not wish for them to be trapped beyond.

"Well, it's not outside." Haelan said in a completely sincere attempt to aid in the analysis.

"Yeh don't say?!" Duor exclaimed in exaggerated mocking.

"Or a silver white realm of snow and ice?...the Ballad of the Swan Prince seems to be more accurate than it first sounded." Erevan observed.

"So, you think the Swan Prince's realm is through there?" Haelan asked.

"That would mean that's where the Black Swan...er...Dragon is then? I thought ut was in Nor Gorthok?" Festus inquired. "I'm all for a trip to the fairy-land...but it looks awfully cold in...or...out there. Couldn't we find a portal to the 'spring' side of things? Or summer?"

The air now easily breezed into the chamber, with snow occasionally accompanying it. It was getting quite cold in the chamber. But the scene was very peaceful. The air crisp and clear...the scent of freshly fallen snow all around them. There was a brightness in the sky, but no sun, per se, that could be scene and the snows that fell were the softest flurry...almost welcoming, as opposed to a raging blizzard.

Therer was a thud and a "hssss" again as Coerraine finally got the lid closed. The stone slab that formed the "door" to the tomb chamber did not open. The paladin and warrior strained upon it, again, as they had from the outside. It still would not budge.

"We really aren't equipped to go there." Alaria noted. "If we camp here and wait until tomorrow, I could use the spell of opening again to get us back to the swamp...if that is, indeed what is still outside that door."

"Can't you just read it from the book?" Haelan asked.

"I am not sacrificing one of my upper tier spells, and one of the most useful, just to leave here, now." Alaria said with a bit of irritation. "If we must get out now, there's the way."

"Well....could you magic us up some fur boots?" Haelan again suggested.

"Got my own, thanks. Heh heh." Festus said to lighten the mood.

"Erevan and I...and Festus could go scouting?" Fen offered.

"I would rather you not." Alaria replied. We don't know how this portal works or where it actually leads. I would not want you trapped on the other side. If we are to go, we will all go. What say you?" The magess turned to the rest of the group.

There was further discussion and it was decided that they would attempt to explore the winter wonderland before them.

Haelan agreed to invoke his goddess...he was fairly sure he could ward the three humans and himself against the cold. But once they were out of the chamber. He didn't want his prayers to fizzle in the chamber as his Blessing had. He still didn't understand that.

They passed through, one by one, to come to standing on the snowy hillslope that looked down upon a narrow wood and a silver lake beyond.

"Wooooooah." Haelan said in his typical way.

Following the daelvar's gaze, the other companions turned to see they had "entered" this strange realm from between the legs of a massive statue, whether it was crystal or the enchanted ice, they couldn't say. The figure was that of the "swan knight" they had seen in the chamber.

Even more impressive were the three other statues that dotted the landscape "behind" them. A fourth, partially destroyed, "broken off" about half-way up its torso rose from further back in the snow laden woods. Two more giant shoulders and heads could be made out even further back in the woods.

"DAMMIT ALL!" shouted Duor as the dwarf raced back to the "portal" they had walked through, which appeared from this "side" to be just a wall of ice.

A few of the heroes ran back with Duor as the dwarf discovered that he could reach his hand into the wall of ice...with a bit of pushing, he felt as if he were reaching "through" it.

Braddok, without a thought and before anyone could stop him pressed his face into the ice wall until his head and shoulders were gone.

"Oh my gods!" Haelan cried in dismay.

Alaria's heart leaped up into her throat.

Coerraine and Festus quickly grabbed the warrior and pulled him back.

There was a smile on his face. "It's ok. It goes back to the chamber. We can get back if we have to."

"See. That's why I love this guy!" Duor smiled. "Now we know! Well done dead-man."

"Braddok, please do not do something like that again." Alaria said with a calming exhale.

With Haelan's invocation, Alaria and the other humans noticed a distinct drop in the cold. It was more like a late autumn chill than any debilitating winter's cold. Fen's cloak afforded him some protection from the elements and the half-elf did not complain. Similarly, Erevan and Fen's physiology were not adversely effected. Duor, also, refused to complain.

"Colder'n this in the rocky deep." he smiled though there was the occasional chattering of teeth which the dwarf deeply avowed were not his.

"Look there." pointed Festus.

Out, across the lake, a single towering spire of white and silver rose from the lake.

"Looks like a destination to me." Duor piped up. "Good place to hide some loot. Let's get a move on."

The party began their descent to the narrow stretch of trees that seemed to surround the lake.

Fen noted, compared to the time of day they had entered the mound, the hazy white ball of light in the sky was not where "a sun should be".

"Definitely not." Festus comfrimed.

Everyone was startled by two snowy white grouse that burst from the field ahead of them.

"Dinner!" Duor exclaimed. But frowned in disappointment when neither Festus nor Erevan raised their bows.

Fen and Erevan watched the frightened creatures in blissful appreciation. They disappeared somewhere behind a small dune far away from them.

"I don't think we're in the Feldmere anymore." Haelan stated, as if he were revealing some great secret.

"I am inclined to agree, friend Hilltender." Fen smiled. "Besides, Duor, don't you know you never want to eat anything in the fairyland? You will never be able to return to the mortal realms."

Everyone looked at Fen in surprise.

"That's how my mother told it." the druid shrugged in response.

Festus was distinctly on edge. Duor took great pleasure in teasing the satyr that they "must be in the fairy realm, prob'ly pixies all over the joint."

The party was nearly at the treeline below them when they first heard the wolves.

"Awooooo" sounded form somewhere far behind them.

Erevan's head pricked to the side. He turned to look up the slope behind them.

A second howl went up, further away. Erevan turned to Fen.

"We should hurry." the druid said. "That sounded like a 'hunting' howl."

Festus jumped up into the air to land ten feet behind everyone else. "Did'ja see that?!" he said with alarm.

The party looked to where, along the trees, the ranger was pointing with his falchion. They saw nothing.

"Pixie, was it?" Duor mumbled under his beard and continued to trek through the snowy field that was nearing the dwarf's waist.

"No! There was a lady...a white lady...made of snow..." Festus explained. Though the nervousness in his tone belied the fact he firmly believed...whatever he saw, was somehow "fairy related."

"The satyr's powers of perception seem very acute, Duor. You are wrong to tease him." Coerraine said.

The party continued walking but kept an eye in the direction the ranger had pointed.

"There she is!" Haelan said triumphantly. "Oh. No...Nevermind. Just a snowy covered tree stump."

The howls of wolves again rose to their ears. Even the humans could tell they were closer than before.

"Double time it, people." Duor said in all seriousness.

They were following the ranger and elf into through the woods, fully expecting to break through and see the lake and silver spire before them at any moment.

Yet minutes went by and all they saw was the pristine forest blanketed in snow and ice.

A breeze blew through the trees and disturbed the flurrying snow. Alaria sworn she saw a woman's figure form before them, but in a moment it was gone.

"I...think...I just saw her too." Alaria alerted the others. "Anyone else?"

Erevan was tempted to pull an arrow back in his bow, but somehow didn't feel the need. The whole of the place was peaceful. Natural. Entirely beautiful. Nothing about it, or the female form he too had noticed in the blustering snow, caused him alarm. Still he confirmed that he had noticed it and stated that he didn't feel they were in any danger from it.

"A snow woman in an enchanted winter-land?" Festus asked. "Really, my good friend master elf. What could be more dangerous!?"

The wolves sounded behind them again. Several of them coming from different sides.

"To the trees, I think." Fen suggested. "They are only moments away."

"Then we fight!" Braddok snarled and turned at their would-be assailants.

"I would rather we didn't." Fen said calmly.

First one, then two, snow white does came bursting through the trees and underbrush, and a fawn behind those, all racing passed the party without a thought other than to avoid trampling them.

"Wow. White deer are really pretty." Haelan said to noone in particular. "I wonder why we don't have white deer in the Free Hollows. I've heard of a black one before. Gilbert Brambletoes has a stag's skull on the wall of his tavern that he claims to be a black stag...but I've never actually seen one...The white ones are much..."

"Haelan, focus please." Alaria mentioned casually as she sped her own pace and looked nervously to either side of the path they were on.

"...nicer." Haelan finished quietly.

There was rustling in the snowy bushes on both sides. But no wolves were yet seen.

Then the wind whipped up again and the female form in the blowing flakes formed before them again. Everyone could see her now.

"GAH! SNOW FAIRY!"Festus shouted in alarm.

Fen used his spear to lower the ranger's swords.

The form seemed to be motioning to them with her hand. Motioning to follow.

Then a dark grey wolf leaped out onto the path behind them. It was most definitely larger than a normal wolf and snarled menacingly at the party ahead of it.

Two more, both mostly white, crashed through brush and jumped over fallen snow-covered trees to either side.

Erevan, reluctantly drew <Dm's note: not from his enchanted quiver>and fired at one of the flanking wolves. It struck the leaping creature and with a whine of pain, the wolf fell into the snowy brush.

Alaria jobbed at the other beast leaping at her and with a spark of electricity, sent it flying over their heads to the opposite side of the path. The beast's fur smoldered a bit and the whole area now smelled of ionized air.

"Follow her!" Fen said and made a break down the opening in the crowded forest flow toward the snow-formed woman. She dispersed well before Fen reached her, but the direction was clear.

Alaria followed and Haelan. Then the rest. Festus cursed under his goateed chin, decidedly more happy to take on a pack of wolves.

Erevan fired another arrow to land at the feet of the large grey wolf who had yet to dare to take on the spear-wielding Redstar Knight or the sword-swing warrior beside him.

Two twists through the woods later, they broke the treeline to stand upon a beach of white ringing the lake's edge.

The howls of the wolves close behind.

"Come on, there!" Fen pointed again and took off. Further down the beach was a long skiv, seeming carved of ice and in the swape of a swan at the prow.

Fen waited as the others climbed into the boat and waited for the wolves to break onto the breach before he intoned, again, the incantation of entanglement. To the druid's utter surprise, insytead of roots and vines breaking from the ground, the snow covered and white-barked birch trees bent and reach down to grab the lupines and fling them high up over the trees back into the forest.

The creatures howled and whined as they flew and landed somewhere far back in the woods.

"That's new." Observed Haelan.

The druid climbed into the ice-carved boat and as they noticed a lack of paddles or oars, the boat simply left the beach. Floating them out, smoothly, across the curiously unfrozen water toward the tall shining spire in the center of the lake.