Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"

The Feldmere: Part VI: The Swan Maid

The party kept their eyes glued to the tall silvery spire upon the small isle in the center of the mirror lake.

It was obvious, as they neared, that the shining light that provided a "sun" of sorts for this wintery realm was fixed directly over the tip of the tower.

Around the base of the isle, a multitude of swans calmly swam about, leaving trailing ripples in the otherwise perfectly still reflective surface of the lake.

A few snowy white egrets could be seen poking about the lightly colored reeds at the island's edge. Haelan and Fen observed one, as they neared a short low pier of white wood, pull a silvery fish out of the shallows and gulp it down hungrily.

The swan shaped skiv in which they rode came to a smooth even halt at the side of the pier.

"Guess we get off here?" Festus said tentatively. He was becoming increasingly nervous in this strange land which, "obviously!", was inhabited by "snow fairies."

"'Course we get off here, goat-butt. This is where the treasure is!" Duor scoffed at the satyr as he clamoured out of the boat before anyone else.

The companions stood, calmly on the short pier and, after taking in the elegant and beautifully carved tower, began wandering to the shore.

Before Duor could set foot on the actually ground of the isle, a breeze swept up and the form of the woman of snow again coalesced before them. Eventually, she was entirely solid and the breeze subsided.

She was about five and half feet tall with curling locks of the palest blond, almost white, that flow freely all about her down to her waist. She was swathed in a fitted gown with billowing skirts, all of white with intricate brocade of glistened like actual silver. Her exposed skin was, likewise, incredibly pale.

Her eyes were most captivating, large and round, with irises that also glittered of metallic silver. They seemed to convey curiosity, a calming wisdom, and soul-piercing intensity all at once.

She said nothing, but just looked from one companion to the next.

"Snow fairy!" Festus burst and again drew his blades.

She looked at the satyr as if he were a blank wall.

Braddok stepped forward to lower the ranger's blades.

"She's definitely not one of my people." Erevan whispered to Alaria.

"Is that a Selurian, Alaria?" Haelan asked nervously recalling at once the archivist's description of them as "albino" but also calling to mind the horrid tales he'd heard as a child of the demon-worshipping, infant-eating, would-be world conquurers of the last age.

"I...I don't know Haelan." Alaria said calmly, attempting to take in as much of the woman's facial expressions and body language as she could. Her Magess' curiosity flooded her mind with her own quetstions. What, in fact, was she? Who was she? Where were they? What did this have to do with the tomb...or the dragon...the poem...Nor Gorthok?

"Ok, Snow Lady, where's the treasure?" Duor blabbed.

The woman just cocked her head and looked at Duor.

Her expression was unchanged and yet, the dwarf felt firmly cowed.

"Greetings, my lady." Coerraine posed to the silent woman. "We've come to...um..from..." the paladin's attempt at an elegant introduction halted as the woman's gaze turned to him.

She looked at him for a moment and the slightest, most demure, courtly grin formed on her lips. She blinked.

"Are you a Selurian?" Haelan asked, his face full of sincerity and curiosity.

The woman looked at the daelvar and grinned further.

"Thou wouldst be heroes. Yet thou coat and arm a child?" the woman said with...not concern...but curiosity.

"I'm not a child! I'm a fully grown daelvar, thank you very much. I have a full thirty-five springs." Haelan protested. <DM's note: In Orea, it is true that most of the hairfooted folk are, actually, born in the spring. Even if they are not, the daelvar measure age by number of springs, regardless of when in the year one is actually born.>

"Apologies, gentle folk" the woman replied with a short curtsy. "I have ne'er seen one of thy kind. Be at peace and welcome to Gorathgraard."

"Aight, so yer talking now. So let's not have any upset. Where's the treasure? We fought the tomb guardian of Eats-his-gruel and..."

The woman's silver eyes turned to the dwarf with obvious surprise. The first indication of emotion she had revealed.

"Thou hast seen Itzizgruel?!" the woman breathed in shock. "He lives yet?"

"Apologies, my lady. But no." Alaria interjected in an attempt to get things more on track and, hopefully, some information. "My dwarven companion has the name mistaken. We entered this realm from the tomb of Ifthrakuel."

"I see." she said, obviously deflated. "Yay. Ifthrakuel was one of the first to fall. Of Itzizgruel I have known not for..." She lifted her silvery gaze to the top of the large statue breaking the tree tops beyond the edge of the inner woods.

A tear formed from the woman's eye and trailed down her cheek before seeming to freeze and fall, solid, with a soft sound into the snow about her feet.

"My lady," Coerraine attempted to begin again, "if I may, what is this place? How did you come to be here? What is your name that we might thank you for the timely assistance in the woods."

She nodded. "Nay. Thy thanks art necessary not, fine paladin. Thou art of obvious character and valiant cause. Though, I confess, I nay have ken thy coat of arms. Long has it been since I stopt to dream for champions for Gorathgraard."

"Is that where we are? You still haven't answered the Selurian question...your, um, ladyship." Haelan asked.

"Swanmae! I've got it! You're a swanmae!" Festus burst. "Not so bad as fey-folk go...definitely not like pixies...and, if I may say, one lovely to behold." the satyr concluded with a leery smile and raise of his eyebrow as he noticeably adjusted his crotch.

"A...what? Yay, I was once called as one of our lord's Swan Maids. Though of the faye art I surely not! Surely not so nearly as thou, satyr." she replied with some annoyance.

"So you are a Selurian, then?" Helan again pressed. He was getting decidedly fearful at the lack of answer.

"A 'Sel-ur'...? Ah, yes. I remember. One of the White Tribe of the East, thou means? Nay. Our lord gave us this place long before their rise.

"Though I see the Green Tribe of the South still roams the land. Star-blood or nay I wouldst know thy kind anywhere, traitor!" she concluded with a scowl in Fen's direction. The breeze returned and raged a bit around the lake and island before subsiding.

"The Green...what? No, milady. No! I am of the Holy Order of Mist-" Fen began to explain with his most charming smile in an attempt to soften the maid's disposition.

"Thy charms art wasted on one such as I." she said now fully frowning at the company. The winds again rose and intensified and became bone-chilling.

"Alright. That's enough of that. Nice goin', druid. I'm gettin' my treasure now!" Duor growled and withdrew his ethereal blade.

"Heroes thou wouldst pretend, yet I art to be deceived by the Black One, once again! I pray for champions and find delivered, instead...

"Greed!" she spat at Duor.

"Lust!" to Festus.

"Apathy and Avarice!" toward Fen and Erevan.

"Ambition!" toward Alaria.

"My lady, no!" Alaria protested. "We're here to help! Duor, stay your blade!"

Duor made a dive toward the woman, his intent clear.

She did not move, nor spoke any word, but the winds now swirled around Duor's form. The mini-blizzard entirely shrouding the dwarf from the others' sight.

When the winds and snows dispersed after a moment, where Duor had been now appeared a crystalline statue of blue-white ice, in the shape of the dwarf. Only the green smoky glow of his dagger was unchanged, in the frozen grip of his now ice hand.

"My lady, please!" Coerraine said in horror.

Her gaze, now filled with anger shot at the paladin and then softened immediately.

"Yay. But I am also brought valor..." she said, again softly.

"Innocence." she said turning her silver eyes to a fright-filled Haelan.

"And one touched by the Eight...Desri, is it?...if I do not forget." looking to Braddok.

"Well, I never actually touched her...but um...Yeah, you could say we 'met'...kind of." Braddok replied, with a nervous look at Duor's form.

"My lady...could you...um...unfreeze our friend, please?" Haelan asked politely. His eyes glued in shock to the ice sculpture that had been their dwarf rogue.

She grinned lightly and blinked slowly.

A moment after, Duor transitioned, before their eyes, to be a living breathing, if impossibily cold, dwarf again. He dropped to his hands and knees. The ethereal dagger falling from his grasp. The dwarf shook uncontrollably from the cold.

Festus rushed forth and placed his woolly patchwork travelling cloak over the dwarf and rubbed him vigorously to warm him up.

"W-w-wuh're yeh w-waitin' f-f-f-fer. Slag her!" the dwarf protested, noting none of his companions attacking.

"Be still, Duor!" Alaria commanded. "And be grateful to her ladyship. Lest you spent the rest of your days as a sculpture."

"W-wuh?" the dwarf said confused. He looked up at the again totally blank stare of the white woman. "Yeah. Ok. Thanks blizzard witch." he said under his beard.

"Very well. Peace." said the woman. She seemed to stare off again, beyond the party.

When her eyes returned to the strange assembly of "heroes" on the pier, she again spoke, "Apologies, my hospitality hast become lax in my time. Come. Let thee warm thyselves by my fire. If thou wouldst like."

"Yes! Thank you, lady." Alaria interjected before anyone else could speak.

"May we have thy...er...thou...um...your name, lady?" Braddok again asked gently. "That we may thank you, properly."

"Amthyriine..." she said softly. Then, with more strength. "I was known as Amthyriine." <DM's pronounciation note: "AM-theer-ee-en">

Without another word, nor waiting for any thanks from the company, she turned and seemed to float more than step over the snow, leaving no footprints, to the single large doorway at the base of the tower.

Slowly, with cautious looks to each other, the party followed.

Erevan found himself feeling some unknown sadness as his companions trudged their way through the serene blissfully undisturbed snow as they followed.

Fen, Braddok noticed with surprise, seemed to walk over the snow. His footsteps not disturbing a single flake nor leaving any trail at all. Druid magic, something in the warrior's mind told him.

Alaria's mind was a flurry as she followed the woman, keeping a close eye on her back...for all of the good that'll do! she thought. She was desperately cataloging what little they had revealed.

This realm was called "Gorathgraard" which had to somehow be related to Nor Gorthok...This woman, Amthyriine, was one of the "Swan Maids" of the legend of the Swan Prince...how long again was that, again? She didn't know what a daelvar was?...and the Selurians she referred to as 'the White Tribe'...which Alaria could recall and confirmed to herself.

It seemed they had been correct to assume that Ifthrakuel, and apparently someone named Itzizgruel, had been one of the Swan Knights of the legend...She had mentioned being deceived by the "Black One" which Alaria could only presume to refer to the "Black Swan" of the Ballad...which archivist Felton asserted to be imagery for dragons...how laughable.

Her mind, unbidden, went to the "Black Wizard", Tresahd...what was it the elves were calling him on the battle-front? The "Black Drake"...Drake...Dragon? No...That could not be! Alaria shook the thought from her mind and laughed inwardly at her own unfounded leaps as she entered the silver tower.

Finally done reading, can't wait to see where this is going now. They always surprise me.

<Author's Errata: As a point of clarification, Amthyriine should have referred to Selurians as 'the White Tribe of the West' not 'East' as was posted. It is really neither here nor there, but for the reader's understanding and world consistency, the White Tribe...who would become the Selurian nation...were from the West, not the East. /Errata. Moving on...>

The party entered the base chamber of the tower. It was massive, easily 100-150 feet in diameter. The walls and floor were composed of the same white and silvery stone at the exterior and the whole space glowed with a soft white light. Compared to the glaring reflection of the snow covered landscape outside, the softer light was most welcome.

'Stark' was the best way to describe the huge round chamber. In the center of the room a large (20' diameter) circular firepit burned with a low even flame. Around the pit, chairs, stools, benches and divans all strewn liberally with bright white and pale grey furs.

A single stone staricase off the right twirled around the outer wall to disappear at a landing high above them at the easily 50 foot ceiling. A second staircase, leading down, far at the far side of the chamber.

"Make thy selves at ease and comfort. I shall present refreshment." Amthyriine said and "moved" across the wide hall (as her skirts seemed to simply flow across the floor, making no sound or motion of "steps") to the stairs leading down.

The party, for the most part, made themselves comfortable in the various warm seats around the fire.

"She said she was not faye. Yet, we have no confirmation this is not actually a fairy-realm." cautioned Erevan. "I would counsel against partaking of any of her refreshments."

"There is something off about her to be sure. Not a Selurian. Not a faye. Did you see, she left no tracks in the snow? She may be some kind of lost spirit or something." Braddok posed quietly.

"Well neither do I and I'm not a spirit." defended Fen.

"No. Yer a 'traitor'. Wud'ja think she meant by that, hmm?" Duor said mockingly.

Fen just shrugged in return to the questioning eyes of the rest of the companions.

The dwarf took one of the pale grey furs from ff the seat he'd been standing by, waiting for Amthyriine to exit down the stairs. He wrapped himself in it and, silently (thanks to his magic boots), began padding across the room to the walls. He carefully inspected the floor and walls as he went. He removed a glove and ran his hand along the strange white stone. No seems. No irregularities. Very much warmer than stone "should be" according to the dwarf.

"Duor, do not offend our hostess." Alaria whispered, much annoyed by the rogue's uncoothe behavior.

"I think we can be at ease here." Coerraine suggested as the golden glow of his mystic sight left his eyes. "There is nothing here that is evil. Indeed, I sense a pervading warmth of good and peace."

"Sure it isn't the fire? It is lovely warm." Haelan posed snuggling into the furs of the chair he had hoisted himself into.

Coerraine looked at the cleric with mild humor. "I am sure, friend Haelan."

"We must get answers." Alaria said, again, quietly. Yet the openness of the chamber seem to amplify all but the weakest whisper.

"Indeed we do, boss lady. Like where's the bloody treasure?" Duor replied absently as he placed an ear to a section of wall and tapped lightly with his fist.

"Alas, dwarf, the riches of Gorathgraard are not here. Nor mine to give, if they were." came Amthyriine's voice to everyone's surprise. The white clad maiden had ascended the stairs carrying a tray on which sat eight large and deep, beautifully crafted, silver goblets studded with white stones and crystals.

"They were lost to us when she ensnared our lord with her wicked wiles." she added as she came to the firepit and passed out the goblets.

'OOoooo! Hot chocolate! How did you know?" smiled Haelan.

Alaria looked at the steaming liquid in her own goblet and sniffed deeply. "Lady, Amthyriine, if I may ask, who is 'she'. Is...is this...black ginger tea?" the magess asked in surprise.

"Is it?" replied Amthyriine, obviously not sure.

For Festus, Braddok and the two elf-folk a warm steaming mulled red wine.

Coerraine looked at his goblet in surprise as well and asked the white lady, "Is this really warm sheep's milk with nutmeg?" The Redstar Knight tried to remember the last time he had partaken of the traditional winter "nog" of his homeland.

"With honey brandy if I do not forget the tastes of the Red Tribe of the South." Amthyriine smiled back at the paladin.

"Art they not to thy liking?" she seemed concerned she had served the wrong thing when none of the companions partook of her offerings. "I couldst prepare alternate libation, if thou wouldst prefer."

"Forgive us, lady. But it isn't magicked or anything is it?" Haelan blurted with sincerity. The poor daelvar was practically licking his lips to get at the sweet frothy chocolate staring him in the face.

"Poisoned, perhaps?" Duor offered, surreptitiously returning to the circle to take the goblet and sniff deeply as the deep golden warmed cognac in his cup. "Sweetstone Amber?! Where'd you find this?"

To their collected surprise, the dwarf didn't waste a moment waiting for a reply, but took a long sip accompanied by a satisfying moan deep in his throat. "Aaaaaah. That's the real thing. *buuuurp* Mm. Nothin' wrong with this stuff."

Amthyriine smiled lightly at the dwarf's apparent satisfaction.

"Forgive our hesitation, my lady. But time abroad has taught us to be cautious." Braddok explained.

The pale woman nodded with a sadness the companions had not expected to see. "It is to be understood. I thou assure no enchantment nor poison wouldst I soil the hospitality of the House of Gorathiel...even unto his enemies."

"You must understand, Amthyriine, that you have exhibited more than a small talent for the Mysteries. And we still do not understand how we came to be in this enchanted place or what effect it may have." Alaria explained in as courtly and congenial a manner as she could muster.

"Enchanted...yay. Gorathgraard exists, only thus, due to enchantment. Twas our lord's final gift to we that remained...in the end...when he finally awoke from the dark serpent's snares." the lady replied. "But by then, the damage was too great."

"So this is a fairy land?!" Festus nearly spat out his drink in concern.

"A 'fairy land'?...how curious. Nay." Amthyriine again seemed to stare off in distraction before continuing. "And yay...in a way, I suppose. This permutation of Gorathgraard exists as a...pocket...a 'demi-plane' wouldst thou call it" she turned with a questioning look to Alaria. "Hidden away from the mortal realms and, originally, protected from the insidious evil of the dark one. Our lord created it in his final days, with but six gateways. Only four now remain."

"And this 'dark one', the serpent, you refer to, is that Desaarthal?" Alaria asked.

As she spoke the name, the room darkened noticably and a rumbling thunder could be heard throughout the chamber.

"Speak not her name in this place!" Amthyriine said in obvious concern. She looked about her and the chamber as the rumbling trailed off and the light returned to normal.

"She knows it is here. But Gorathiel's sorcery was greater than her own. Once, we were wholely protected here. But she has found ways to infiltrate the realm. Pick away at the edges...as it were. The wolves were the first to turn on us. Some of the other creatures as well. Then the ice trolls began moving through the outer wood..." her silver eyes, again, filled with water, and another single tear flowed from one eye, to solidfy and clink upon the stone floor.

Duor watched in curiosity as the bright, clear, crystal he was assuming to be ice just laid on the floor...and did not seem to melt.

Amthyriine gave it no mind, staring somberly into the flames flickering in the fire pit. She bent down to pick up a long silvery poker and set to adjusting a few of the logs.

"Forgive us, my lady." Coerraine stepped forward. "We meant not to cause you sorrow. My own heart is pained to see you thus. Is there anything we might do to alleviate your suffering?"

The Swan Maid looked up at the red-tabard of the paladin and the curious golden shield amulet flanked with spears that hung from his neck.

"Alas, champion, even the offer lightens my soul. But I fear there is naught that might be achieved by even so valiant a soul as thine. All of our lord's knights made such attempts and our lord, himself...in the end..." her eyes again stared off blankly in the fire.

"We can take out this Desa-ar-um...'dark one' fer yeh...For a modest reward, of course." Duor offered in a casual manner as he sipped again on the strong warming liquor.

"Did you not here her, Duor? The dragon still lives!" Fen protested.

"You mean, this dark one is the dragon we've heard about in legend and it yet lives and accosts you, even here...right?" Haelan asked for clarification.

"Yay, my noble'hearted guest. But enough such talk of it. Tell me of your people, gentle one. Whence art the day-al-far? What art thy pasttimes and goodly pursuits? I must make apologies that I trouble guests with such concerns as gloom the House of Gorathiel. Tis remiss for a hostess to divulge trouble in such a manner. I have forgotten much, it is seems, in my long solitude."

"That's 'daelvar', sweet lady." Haelan corrected gently. He smiled after a long sip from the "simply scumptuous" hot chocolate. "Well, I personally hail from the Free Hollows...near Hawkview. Do you know it? It's a lovely place. There are other Dales, of course, scattered about Orea. As far as I know, the Hollows was the first, though. As a people, we like..."

"Haelan, later, if you please." Alaria interrupted. They were beginnign to get somewhere and the Hilltender's ramblings would easily take them hours off course.

"So there is no one else with you...um..here? In the whole of this realm?" asked Erevan.

"I have the beasts and birds. Them that hast nay fallen to the dark one's influence. Yay, though my heart is heavied by dreams tis only a matter of time ere they all will be corrupted." Amthyriine replied to the elf's question.

"But otherwise, nay. My sisters have all gone. The knights fell or were lost to her wicked charms. My lord gave himself that we few who remained might have this place."

"They 'have gone', lady? To where if they are not here?" Alaria inquired calmly before a sip of the delicious tea of her homeland.

The magess' mind swam with the possibilities. Perhaps this woman held some telepathic ability, like Rhea. How else did she know what each of them individually wanted? Besides the conjuring that would be required to manifest the drinks so speedily. She, apparently, was a potent sorceress, changing into the winds and snows and freezing Duor as she had. She was still at a loss to describe just of what the seemingly peaceful lonely woman was possible.

"To Gorathgraard, of course." she replied, as if this was the obvious resposne.

"I thought this was Gorarthgraard?" Haelan said innocently, slurping again at his hot chocolate.

"Yay. So tis." Amthyriine replied. She seemed confused at the party's confusion.

"Shhho," began Duor who was nearly the bottom of his goblet and feeling nothing but the warming licquor flowing through his veins, "ifve take care ovvv this dar-*erp*-ragon fer yeh, wut're we gettin' in return? Wutsh ish gotta do with Nor Gorthok?"

"Nor Gorthok?....ah, I see. Wouldst seem to be a name of thy kind." Amthyriine answered.

"So Nor Gorthok is Gorathgraard?" said Alaria, beginning to comprehend.

"Aren't we in Gorathgraard...right now?" Haelan said, still confused. His confusion became quickening concern at the prospect that there was some ancient dreaded evil dragon on the same place he was.

"Yay." Amthyriine said to Alaria. She turned to Haelan at his question and again said, plainly, "Yay."

"And the other Swan Maids are in Gorathgraard, also?" Fen posed. The druid was also becoming more confused.

"Yay. Tis all Gorathgraard and Nor Gorthok. Tis all the same. Dost though not comprehend?" she answered the druid, though her face betrayed some irritation in the half-elf's direction.

"I'm afraid I do not understand, my lady." Braddok said. He looked at Alaria. Maybe the wizardess was getting this, but he was just a soldier, a warrior.

"I believe I understand." Alaria said before their hostess could be barraged by any more questions from her 'less versed' companions.

"It's like an onion." the magess explained to her companions. "You said, Lady Amthyriine, this was a 'demi-plane.' We are in Gorathgraard...and there are other Gorathgraard's where others of her kind are, or might be, in their own hidden realms. And all of the Gorathgraard's are also where Nor Gorthok is...on Orea. They're all contained within a pocket dimension, like the layers of an onion. Each separate, but all the same onion." Alaria looked at their hostess for confirmation with the hopeful expectation she often felt at having the 'right' answer.

Amthriine grinned slightly and nodded. "Just so....an onion. Curious, though not inaccurate."

"Iiiii still don't get it." Haelan said with a shrug. "But it was a lovely explanation ,Alaria."

"Me neiver. *hic*" piped in Festus as he had reached the end of his goblet. "Got any mora thish stuff? 'Ssreally good."

Amthyriine nodded with a grin. She took the empty goblet from the satyr and placed it upon the silver tray.

"Is there any more hot choclate_" Haelan asked in wide'eyed hope. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Nay a trouble at all, small one. It warms a long cold heart to bring thy satisfaction." Amthyriine smiled in response.

When she had floated back across the chamber to descended the stairs to who knew where, the companions discussed what Alaria had explained for them.

"If that is so..." began Erevan, his mind mulling over the curious dimensional situation, "could be not, perhaps exit this realm anywhere within Nor Gorthok?"

"Yeh. We could get in, get the dragon treashure n' slip back out wiffout the wyrm ever knowin'." Duor smiled. His cheeks and nose had taken on a thoroughly reddish sheen as he swirled about the last sip of his cognac in the bowl of the goblet.

"Oddly enough, the dwarf proposes exactly what I was thinking." Erevan said.

"Alaria?" Braddok questioned to the wizardess, obviously deep in her own thoughts.

"Hmm? I'm sorry. What? Yes! Yes, Erevan, that could be possible. Though I will confess, my own studies in the way of dimensional travel are limited, at best.

"The lady said there were but four gateways left that access this place. She said not where they offer egress to...or even if they do. We know the portal we came through goes back...or seems to." she concluded,more to herself than the others.

"But if we're in this 'onion' then shouldn't we be able to just leave the onion where we want?" Haelan asked. His mind then drifted to the thought of onions...and spiced meat in the mutton pasties he so enjoyed.

"There are 360 degrees of horizontal and vertical, Haelan. We will have to ask Amthyriine.We might come out in Nor Gorthok...We could, as easily come out on the other side of the world...or Dessarthal's treasure chamber."

Again, the room darkened, deeper this time and the rumbling thunder seemed as much in the chamber as without. It seemed even the room shook slightly.

"Oh *hic* goat-patties." murmured Festus.

A clanging crash caught the party's attention to see Amthyriine, who had reuturned to the top of the stairs, as the tray of four filled goblets hit the floor. She placed a hand against the wall to steady herself.

"What hast thou done here!? Didst I nay tell thou nay bespeak its cursed name!?" she looked worriedly at the ceiling until the rumbling subsided and the light returned to normal.

"Thou hast overstayed thy welcome. I wouldst not see Gorathgraard fall to such careless lips as thine. Begone!"

"My lady I am sorry. It was slip..." Alaria began to apologize.

"I bade thee goooooonnnnn...!" she shouted across the chamber. Her voice melding with and then becoming overwhelmed by the blasting blizzard of air that manifested within the chamber. All of the companions were swept up in the furious whirlwind.

A moment later they were crashing down into several feet of snowy ground.

The party roused themselves and took account of their number, including Haelan who was literally standing in a daelvar shaped whole in the snow up to his chin. Everyone was there and seemingly unharmed, though jolted from the abrupt landing.

They looked up to see themselves before another towering statue of one of the swan knights. It was, however noticeably different in detail than the one between whose great crystalline feet they had arrived.

"Well, that was well done, eh boss lady." Duor grumbled and pulled the grey fur pelt he had managed to grab during their abrupt ejection.

"Sure fire way to lose a buzz, that's for sure." Festus said, rubbing his goatish hindquarters.

Duor looked down at the crystalline tear he had managed to palm off the floor while the others were talking about onions or some such. His eyes immediately widened in disbelief. He placed the pure clear teardrop shaped stone between his teeth and then just stared at it agape.

"What's the matter Duor?" Braddok asked.

"It's...it's..." the normally prolific dwarf stammered.

"It's?" questioned Erevan unconcerned, shouldering his pack and adjusting his quivers. He shook he silvery grey locks and what little snow was in them fell and slid out easily. In only that moment, the elf looked again as his near-perfect self, like he were about to walk into a ball.

"It's a diamond!" the dwarf said, unexpectedly. He mentally chastised himself for informing his fellows, who would surely what a cut. But he wasn't about to give it up.

"Well, where to now gentlefolk?" Fen suggested brushing the snow off his billowing druid's cloak as it shifted from the pale grey-green it had been within the tower to a pure white of the surrounding landscape.

"DUCK!" shouted Braddok as he dove to knock Alaria, who had also been wiping snow off her cloak and robes, back into the banked snow.

All of the party dove, tumbled and were jostled from their feet as an icy snow covered boulder shook through their position, crashing very near where Alaria had been standing.

Again, they all jumped up to their feet, this time with weapons raising with purpose instead of wiping snow off themselves. Some fifty feet away, along the treeline of the wintery wood came three gargantuan humanoid figures.

They were white as the surrounding environs. Icicles hung off of pointed noses and ears. Chunks of ice and snow clung to their shoulders and seemed to stick to their thighs and forearms. Two held giant icicles that looked like clubs. The other, who had apparently just thrown the boulder was grabbing another. And they were huge! Easily 10 feet tall, like hill giants, but snowy.

"Hey! Those aren't any trolls!" Haelan said in protestation, as if it would cause the creatures to assume a more troll-like stature.

The two ice-club wielders began to charge forward as the third raised another boulder over its head. Their steps thundered loudly as they approached.

"Whatever they are, might I suggest a hasty retreat?" Festus posed and pointed at the ice wall that stood between the statues giant feet.

At the satyr ranger's prudent suggestion, the company all made for the relative cover of the statue's foot and hoped for exit between them.

Festus, easily bounded with his goat legs, but Duor and Haelan were having quite a bit of trouble in the three foot deep snow.

Erevan was peppering the approaching 'ice troll/giant' things with arrows as his companions raced for the ice wall/door. His normal arrows seemed to strike just fine, thank the Silver Moon, as he wished not to use any more of the 3 enchanted arrows he still possessed. Need to refill that quiver, the elf mentally noted.

Alaria moved as quickly as she could, which was some difficulty, through the snows.

Braddok stayed to her left with an eye for where the next boulder would be coming from.

Coerraine, similarly, stayed between the fast approaching ice-ogre-esque creatures and Duor.

The dwarf cursed and mumbled to himself, trudging through the deep snows.

"Do something, druid!" Duor shouted to the half'elf who passed through the snows easily, not getting too far from Erevan, but leaving no trail or trace behind him. The snows just fell into the path he made, as his cloak seemed to swipe them to clean undisturbed state, leaving no discernable trail.

"Right you are, friend Duor. Are you certain you want a 'traitor's' help?" the half-elf smirked in retort.

"Just do something!" the dwarf said angrily.

The druid spoke his words of power and a dull green blot was seen beneath snow striking out to the ice troll closest to the treeline.

Immediately, a large root seemed to pull up from beneath the snow and trip the charging creature. It landed with a thunderous boom and sent snow flying up all around it. Even as the snow landed, other roots and vines were seen reaching up and tying the large creature down, its face firmly planted beneath the snow.

This managed to momentarily distract the other charger as he was momentarily blinded by the great cloud of snow that rose into the air at its comrade's fall.

Braddok grabbed Fen around the waist and, more of less, threw him behind the cover of the great statue's foot before, himself, diving for the same cover.

A moment later another boulder crashed off of the foot and rolled away from the companions. The agile Erevan easily skirted the rolling stone.

The bellowing of their assailants rattled snow of the tree limbs.

All of the company was now hidden from their attackers as Festus pressed his hands into the ice wall in front of them.

"Should we not stay and fight?" Coerraine hollered. "We could lessen the evil one's influence on this realm, if only by a little."

A massive white hand gripped the statue's foot and the ice-laden face of one of the trolls peered slowly around it to show a pointed toothy smile at the seemingly "trapped" company.

"Celradorn, protect your valiant servant and defend his charge and your servants of justice!" Coerraine hollered from his position at the rear, between all of the companions and the ice troll.

Alaria, Braddok, Fen and Erevan were all caught unawares to see the paladin raise his arms to either side above his head, shield on one arm, spear in the other hand. A golden light shown around the Redstar Knight for a moment and then spread out, in a blast, to either side of him.

In the blink of an eye, a golden 'wall' of light filled the whole of the space between the statue's feet, with Coerraine in the center...a part of the wall himself.

"GO!" shouted the blond paladin.

Fen, shaken from his awe by the paladin's single command, grabbed Erevan's arm and pressed the two of them into the ice wall.

Festus was already gone.

Duor looked for a moment to say "Nicely done, Goldilicks." then also pushed into the ice wall.

Alaria was next but did not move.

She winced noticeably as a giant ice club, seen through the nearly transparent golden light, slammed into the field, to no avail.

"Coerraine!" she called.

"Come on Coerraine. That is well done, let's go!" Haelan said from the edge of the ice portal.

"Braddok get them to safety." the paladin called. His stance had not changed and but he seemed to stagger a bit when the next club strike came baring down upon his field.

Braddok began pushing the magess. "Come on, my lady, you heard the man."

Reluctantly, she moved her way through the ice, looking back, she saw a second of the ice trolls round the edge of the crystalline feet.

"Haelan, quickly now." Braddok said tugging on the daelvar's arm and almost throwing him into the portal.

"But...but I can help...I can invoke Faerantha and..." the daelvar began protesting.

Two ice clubs came slamming into the field of light. The ground all but shuddered beneath them and Coerraine was knocked to one knee. It seemed as if the barrier now cracked and began to splinter off pieces.

"Now Haelan!" Braddok said sternly.

Haelan nodded and pushed his way into the portal.

"Coerraine, they're all through. Come on!" called the Grinlian warrior.

Coerraine merely turned his head and looked at Braddok.

Braddok knew...he had seen this look before...there was something in his grey'hazed memory...that same look...his father? His older brother? He had an older brother?! That look...he knew it...

The swordman raised his blade and took a single step toward the paladin.

The blond man shook his head, sweat now beading on his brow.

"Now, Braddok." the Redstar Knight said calmly and seemed to push and press the golden wall up upon his own shoulders and he again regained his two feet.

The bellowing trolls shook the whole area. The THOOM THOOM of their now constant assaults on the wall of light, of which Coerraine, apparently, was a part, echoed through the landscape.

Braddok knew that look. He raised his sword blade to his face in salute and turned and dove through the ice wall portal.

The swordsman's ears were filled with a tinkling, and at the same time, a loud crashing sound, like the breaking of a hundred glasses.

He landed heavily on the ground with a breath-expunging jolt.

Braddok looked up, all of the companions were there, weapons at the ready.

Alaria and Haelan gripped either arm of the swordman, half-helping him up, half-dragging him away from the portal. They were outside...out of doors, somewhere. The night sky filled his vision.

Braddok rose to his feet. He turned to face the unremarkable night air that he had just passed through.

The party stood there a moment in tense readiness. Except Braddok who moved to the back of the group, his eyes to the soft, moist grass covered ground on which he trod.

Two moments.

Three.

"Where's Coerraine, Braddok? Why isn't he coming through?" the daelvar Hilltender asked to any and everyone.

Another moment.

Duor looked to the ground and shook his head.

Festus looked to Braddok who stood with his back to where the portal should be...but gave no indication it was there.

Alaria inhaled curtly and raised a hand to her mouth in understanding as tears filled her eyes.

"What? What's wrong with everyone? We have to go back and help Coerraine!" shouted Haelan to his companions. The daelvar made a racing run to where the portal he had, only moments before, passed through.

He ran another 20 feet just to be sure, before turning to look at the rest of the group. "Where is it? Why isnt't it working?! Alaria, we have to help him! We have to..." the daelvar's protestations trailed off as tears now filled his eyes.

Fen walked forward and placed a hand on the Hilltender's shoulder.

"I think, my friend, our Redstar Knight has helped us more than we ever could him." the half'elf said with a slight grin...though it lacked the mirth and charm his smile's normally presented. More sympathy then anything else.

"But....we have to help...." began Haelan before his just broke down into free flowing tears and gripped the druid around his waist as his shoulder betrayed wracking sobs.

The druid hugged the Hilltender in return. The half'elf patted the daelvar's shoulders as they shuddered.

Duor placed his hand on Braddok's back.

The warrior looked at the stalwart face of the dwarf.

Duor simply nodded in understanding to the warrior.

Braddok nodded back.

Festus attempted to console the wizardess who had silent tears now streaming down her cheeks.

Alaria shoved his hands away before collapsing to her knees on the top of the mound upon which they all now stood.

Erevan just watched all of this. He understood the situation entirely but could not bring himself to comprehend the various races reactions. He, eventually, lowered his bow and stared off at their surroundings.

They appeared, as best the elf could tell, to be again in the Feldmere. But it did not seem the appropriate time, to Erevan, to mention this to the others.

With the return of the wizard, Tresahd, the invasion of the elf lands of Miralosta was again proceeding at a noticeable pace. The battle was joined, anew, in a broad open sloping glade within the wooded realm.

A flight of arrows soared into the air from a squad of goblin archers toward a line of lightly armored elf spear men.

Rhea, the Lady of the Emerald Tear, floated up into the air behind the cluster of elves. Her green corona surrounded her, suspending her in the air. She raised her arms to her sides and the emerald teardrop upon her bow flared as the approaching arrows began their descent on her position.

Then all of the arrows halted in midair, individually surrounded by the emerald glow.

With a forward thrust of her arms, the arrows all turned in midair and streaked back across the battlefield to rain down upon the archers who had just fired them.

Silran and the warrior-prince of Daenfrii, Montor's brother Malak, charged a path through the goblin and hobgoblin foot-soldiers with blades ablaze with their enchantments and bathed in dark goblinoid blood.

A group of undead shadows swept across the field from a collection of orcish shamans and black-robed skull-masked Endoren priests. The elvish troops they moved through fell easily to their reaping touch.

The Gilean Protectress, Lela Eth Mitar, raced to a position before a soraryn <DM's note: Soraryn="Golden Stag", elvish knights, basically> captain upon his war-stag and the soldiers that clustered about their superior in fear. She thrust her sacred "rosehead mace" before her and became immediately bathed in silver light. The silver light shot forth from her position and washed the abominations from existence in a wave of shrill objection.

The hairfooted hero, Carak, bounded from his near-invisible hiding place in the brush along the perimeter of the battlefield. He leaped up onto one of the worg-riding goblins that was attempting to lead a squad through the trees to flank the elf army's position. His short sword and curved Thelitian dagger easily sliced deeply across the surprised goblin captain's back. He stabbed into the back of the beastly mount before jumping from the falling creature to do the same to the nearest next worg-rider. Then leaping off of that beast and disappeared again into the thick underbrush to choose the recipient of his next attack.

Montor, the Dragonmage-apparent, wiped clean rows of the encroaching evil forces with bolts of lightning and torrents of ice and hail. The young wizard saw the dark robed mage with the dragon-skull headdress at the back of the enemy forces in his war chariot hitched with two huge hellhounds.

The mage in midnight blue cloak uttered an arcane syllable and began rising into the air above the carnage and called out to the wizard.

"We have unfinished business, Tresahd!" he yelled as he streaked out over
the field.

"It shall not be finished here, today, wyrmling!" the dark one smiled back.

Montor's initial barrage of sapphire blue magic missiles burst, harmlessly, across a field of soild black "light" that manifested with a swipe of his arm.

"Look to your own 'Dragon mage'" the evil wizard's use of Montor's ancestral title was dripping in mockery. Tresahd incanted a sinister sounding spell.

"Mon! Dammit! Quit makin' yourself a target!" Malak protested as the young wizard fly over him. He yanked his magic longsword from the fallen ogre and caught an orc's battleaxe on his shield before slicing through the brute in a single swipe.

Then the warrior and elf swordsman, Silran, were surrounded in a sudden burst of inky black tentacles.

Montor frowned at the attack and returned to hover near his brother and long time friend. He ignored the flurry of arrows being blocked, a few feet from his back, by the protection enchantment he had invoked earlier and began to cast.

"Arcaniventa atherver*! Urk!" <beginning of the mage spell: Dispel Magic> he began to cast before an arrow actually, not only broke through his enchantment, but pierced into the back of his shoulder. The mage was thrown from the air to land hard on the ground between the warrior and elf, in the midst of the black tentacles.

The Bulgruch lowered his massive bow as a smile spread across his horribly wide and toothy maw.

Meanwhile...back in the Feldmere...

"You should have grabbed him! You grabbed ME! Why did you just leave him there!" Haelan shouted through tears as he slammed his small fists into Braddok's abdomen.

He wasn't hurting the swordsman so Braddok just let him "get it out" for a bit. "He told me to, Haelan. I...I am sorrry...but he told me to." the warrior replied quietly. Braddok's blue eyes turned to where Alaria was rising and composing herself.

It was Duor, of all people, who eventually grabbed the hair-footed daelvar by the shoulders and surprisingly gently ushered him away from the warrior.

"He told you to? Crazy paladins." Duor asked with some surprise. Then to Haelan, "Wut're yeh all in flurry about, hairfoot? I'm the one outta a bodyguard! Be still. Goldilocks wouldn'ta wanted such disorder in our ranks."

The dwarf found himself striken with sadness also and kept looking over to where the portal would or should have been, thinking, perhaps, the Redstar Knight would come flying through at any moment.

"Chin up, friend Haelan." Festus offered. "The Knights of Celradorn are not to be trifled with. He may yet live."

"Then why hasn't he come through?" the calming Hilltender replied. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and the leaking mucus from beneath his nose, noisily.

"ALARIA!" Haelan again perked up. "You can send us back! We just need to find the white stone for this mound, right? Then we can go back...We can help!" he appealed.

Alaria looked at Haelan full of pity and shook her head. "I do not think we can, Haelan. I'm sorry. I don't think it works like that...." the magess turned to look to where Erevan was calmly reloading his enchanting quiver.

Seeing no help coming from the elf's direction, Alaria continued.

"We exited Gorathgraard from a different portal than we entered. It does not seem to have two-way access. And...I don't believe this is the mound through which we entered. There's no telling where a portal from here might take us...if there is one.

"We don't even know, now, where in the swamp we are.

"Do we?" she concluded in a defeated question. She looked to Erevan and Festus for confirmation, but their surroundings in the starlight vista looked different to her.

Festus now took in their location and shook his head in a negative. He quickly pulled out the map and began looking from it to different directions off the mound.

"Or when." replied Erevan softly.

"What?" Fen said in surprise.

"How long, would you say, we were in that snowy realm?" Erevan posed to the company.

"An hour or two perhaps?" Fen posed.

"Maybe three." added Duor.

"Then why is it night here? And why do the stars not turn? What stars are these? Where are the moons?" Erevan said simply, looking up into the night sky.

"Aw BOLLUX!" Duor exclaimed.

The company gave the dwarf little notice as they (thought!) they were all thinking the same thing.

"The damned Redstar was carrying most'a my STUFF!" Duor finished unexpectedly.

He looked up at the expressions of horrified surprise on his companions faces.

"I mean, not any of the good stuff. I have all of my treasure, of course. But my bedroll...but change o' britches...my beard comb...Wut?!"

Braddok studied the map with Festus, who had raised his eyes to the sky at Erevan's observation.

They were not, it seemed, back in the Feldmere...or even Orea as far as he could tell.

The night was alive with the sounds of crickets and frogs across the marshlands. The bright, if curious arrangement of, stars bathed the party in a soft white light that seemed to be the only source of illumination. The moons were noticeably missing. But then, Festus mused, depending on where and when they were, they may have set for the day. There were a couple of noticeable mounds barely breaching the treetops far to their...presumed 'north.'

"I suggestion we make camp here." Fen proposed. "Get our bearings in the morning. I am all but spent of my energies and we have all had a, lamentably, trying day. And it seems, for the moment peaceful and a secure location to rest." By Fen's calculations, back in the Feldmere, it should be nearing 6 or 7 o'clock at night.

"There!" Festus burst. "There's a tower is just there!" the satyr pointed triumphantly to what they had decided was 'north' and west.

The other companions, besides Erevan, strained to see the rising slender form of a tower of dark indigo, blending almost seamlessly in the dark shroud of night that filled the heavens there.

"We would never make it before the morning, and I must concur with Fen." Alaria said. "We need to rest and recoup...and settle ourselves." she said finally in Haelan's direction.

The poor distraught halfling cleric was on his knees, apparently deep in prayer for their lost companion.

She nodded to no one in particular and, without waiting for confirmation, began unloading her bedroll. She also took out her spellbook. Looked at the brown leather cover blankly and put it back in her pack. The taste of black ginger tea still lingered on the back of her tongue.

The party set to camp. Haelan, eventually, cmae out of his meditations and produced a thoroughly warming spiced chili in his bowl, again. They ate in near silence, set watches (with Braddok volunteering to take two to accompany Duor in Coerraine's place) and went to bed.


"Alaria...Alaria! Wake up!"

It was Haelan. The rest of the companions stood around the sleepy magess with their equipment and weapons, obviously ready to break camp.

The sky was still dark. The soft white light of the stars filled the area.

"Haelan...what is it? Are we under attack! Coerraine?!" the magess suddenly came to her senses and jumped up, grabbing her staff.

"No...but...um..." Haelan began to answer.

"It has been ten hours, magess." Erevan said plainly, his eyes to the star-filled sky.

"It...What?!" Alaria said in disbelief. She looked up and around. There was no indication of dawn in any direction. She felt rested, yes. But it still appeared to her that it was the middle of the night.

"It's true." said Braddok.

"It would seem," Erevan began to pose, "that as Gorathgraard...or the last Gorathgraard we visited was a realm of, presumably, endless winter...this is a realm of endless night."

"So we are still in the onion, then." Alaria said offhandedly, relaxing herself and setting to gathering her stuff.

Braddok waved her off with a soft smile and began to do the magess' work for her.

Alaria looked around.

The one thing about this realm that struck her most different from the "real" Feldmere, if there were such a thing, was the distinct lack of fog clinging to the low parts of the landscape. Also, it was much warmer than the Feldmere they knew. She had not noticed before, coming from the very cold realm of the Lady Amthyriine. But now, it seemed almost humid. Like the night of a late spring in her homeland.

She looked to where the dark tower had been the "night" before, it was still nearly impossible to see...but it was there.

She withdrew her spellbook again and set to studying its pages.

"Haelan, a bit of black ginger tea, if you please." Alaria said sleepily.

The Hilltender made the request to his magic bowl and filled one of the wooden cups he carried with him. He'd carved a star, some time ago in the "real" Feldmere, to indicate it was Alaria's cup.

"I was able to notice, " Erevan informed the R'Hathi magess, "that while the stars do not turn, in our sense of the word, from day to night...they do seem to circulate, ever so slowly, about the top of that spire."

"You don't think...I mean...we're not in the realm of the dark dragon, are we? It does seem peaceful here...dark...but peaceful." Haelan asked worriedly to the elf and wizard.

"At the moment, we have no way to tell, Haelan." Alaria answered taking a warming sip of her tea.

A couple of the other companions took a cup of the warm aromatic liquid also, though only Festus and Duor really enjoyed the taste of the stuff. And that, not so much as anything alcoholic.

Alaria closed her book some time later...it was difficult to tell how long.

"I am prepared." she said seriously. "Let us inspect this mound for another gateway. Then, make for the spire. We will find what we find...and Manat grant it be a way out of here."

"What's that?" Haelan said with characteristic innocence. The daelvar priest pointed to a vague orange-ish trail of light, far away from their position.

Erevan looked with his violet elvin eyes. After a moment, an eyebrow cocked.

"Bollux" said Duor at the now familiar reaction.

"We should descend. Into the trees. It seems a dark horse with rider...flames trail from tail and hooves. I do not like the look of it. A demon-horse of some kind." the elf said plainly and quickly took up his pack and quiver again and began moving down the "back" side of the mound, away from the far distant creature.

The rest of the companions knew better than to question the Miralostae's keen vision and followed suit.

Festus did his best to keep the company on track for the dark tower, but this forest floor was almost as murky and swamp-like as the Felmere they'd entered. Avoiding the wet portions and mud-holes proved difficult in the limited light.

Even though most of the trees seemed to hold at least some of the dried leaves of autumn, light filtered down through the starlit sky enough not to inhibit their vision too much.

They had not traveled, it seemed, very long before Festus was lifted by his cloven-hoofed foot from the ground by what seemed to be a living vine.

"Ahhhhh!" was Festus' eloquent surprise.

A single vine would have been fine, but what came after was a towering mound of leaves and mud and roots that held the upside down satyr before a its leafy maw and curious "holes" in the foliage that appeared where "eyes" would be.

Braddok, who had assumed a forward position in the group charged forward and struck deeply with his enchanted sword.

The creature looked down at the "intrusion" in its business and an "arm" of vegetation seemed to rip up, off, of the body of the thing and swat the warrior to the side.

He landed, unceremoniously, beside it. Mud and murky water splashed all over the next row of the marching order.

Erevan's arrows flew with true aim. One passed right through the thing! The other seemed to get stuck in the vegetative morass that formed the thing's body. If it harmed the creature, none could say.

"By the Forge!" spurted Duor, spitting mud and muck from his mouth as he did so. He fire his hand crossbow into the thick beam of growth that appeared to be a "leg" and withdrew his ethereal dagger.

The small crossbow dart seemed to disappear entirely into the moss and dead leaves and slime that composed the thing's semblance of a body.

"Stay your weapons! It is a Shambler!" called Fen.

"Kill it! Kill it before it eats me!" cried Festus and swung his blades at the thing, though he was not nearly close enough for them to hit.

"But, it has Festus!" Haelan protested to Fen, about to summon up some of Faerantha's power against the thing.

"Is it dangerous?" Alaria asked the druid.

"Well, it can be...but..." Fen replied, clearly unsure of his answer.

"Whatever it is, Fen, we have neither the time nor I the patience for this. We must get out of this realm!" Alaria also protested before summoning forth her staff's greatest power and sending a lightning bolt straight into the "shambler."

"Alaria, DON'T...!" Fen protested, but his cry was lost beneath the increasing volume of the staff's crackling energy.

The staff crackled and shocked for a moment, before a bolt shot forth, sending a rumbling thunder throughout the landscape.

The bright white energy streaked forth and slammed into the creature. The jolt of the lightning was enough to cause the creature to drop Festus, head first, into the muddy waters in which it stood.

A bit of steam rose off the plant creature, but that was all. No scorching. No burning. Not even a step back. It did, however, seem to increase in size by a few inches...in every direction.

When the remnants of the fierce magical attack trailed off into the night realm, its hole of a "mouth" opened wide and it roared at the party. Leaves and bits of vine and gods know what else splattered out toward the party.

"Oh..." Alaria said with wide eyes at the distinct lack of effectiveness of her attack.

Festus picked himself up out of the muck and called to his companions, "Go! Go! Let's go!"

He lept up a good distance to land several feet behind the creature in the shallow muddy waters.

"We can outrun it!" the satyr implored again.

The creature bellowed again and with a flick of its vine/"hand"/"arm" whatever it was, struck out toward the party.

Fen and Alaria were far enough to avoid the attack, but only just.

Haelan ducked and the vine flew over his helmed head.

Duor attempted to dive aside a moment too late and was firmly smacked into the soft ground and water.

"I bet it doesn't like fire! Everx imberil rex!" the magess called out.

As they were supposed to, violet red flames fanned out over her companions. As they supposed to, they burst in a roar against the creature's plant-appearing body. As they were not supposed to, they steamed up and away off the moist surface of the creature, only minimal scorches here and there trailing off wisps of smoke.

The creature bellow again and made a swipe at the risen Braddok who had hacked, now twice, through damp leaves and mud. Whatever he had managed to cut or cleave, the shambler's "wounds" (if you could call them that) just came back together with no apparent damage or signs of slowing.

Fen grabbed Alaria, almost in a hug and began running around the shambler with a curt "Apologies, magess. But the satyr has the right of it!"

Haelan helped Duor up and the two stoutfolk made a wide circle behind trees and brush to circumvent the creature. "Braddok, c'mon!" called Haelan seeing the warrior about to attack again.

The warrior thought the better of it and, narrowly blocking another swipe of its tendril with his shield, raced passed the thing toward the others.

The party, collected at the "rear" of the obviously confused and slowly turning creature, continued on into the night-scaped woods with all speed.

Noooo not the paladin!

I love the dwarf, hope he won't get killed at least

HOHWY SHMOKES!

5,000 to over 6,300 views in two months?!?!

THANKS everybody!

Let's see what I have in my lil' bag o' sketches to show y'all...

Well, I have new "group shot" that isn't quite ready for scanning yet.

Originals of the several of the PC's are here http://www.enworld.org/forum/media-...f/283445-steel-dragons-art-4.html#post5346860 . But I think I've shown you those already...

Here's this...
Montor Dragonwing, the Dragonmage-apparent.
...and Lela Eth Mitar, Protectress of Gilea.

The companions moved through the night-scaped woods...and they had, noticeably become woods, as opposed to swamps, in the past hour of their trek toward the odd indigo tower.

"See there?" Festus said quietly. "The trees break just through there. Looks like pretty open terrain.

Erevan concurred.

The starglow at the edge of the trees was unmistakeable, even to the humans limited eyesight.

"Hear that?" Fen then said.

There was a pause among the company.

"Fen, I don't hear anything." Haelan whispered to the druid.

"Exactly." said the carrot-topped half-elf.

Then they all realized, the night-symphony of crickets and toads they had heard on the mound where they had arrived were gone. Indeed, there was no noise at all....then a small sound....like the scraping of a rake through leaves.

All of their eyes shot skyward to scan the tree tops, some of which still possessed leaves and obscured the sky.

"It's there." Fen indicated, quietly. The form of a doe, its head to the forest floor, almost silently munching on the ground.

"Give me a moment." suggested the druid. "I shall go see what there is to learn of this place."

The company nodded their agreement and watched as the druid moved with typical grace and silence through the bushes and around the trees.

The doe, shrouded in patches of shadow and starlight raised its head at the druid's approach.

Fen incanted the spell for speaking with beasts. He felt a rise of power and serenity as one of the Holy Order's most ancient spells filled him with a link to the natural world...and then, he felt something more.

"Forgive the intrusion, graceful lady. But I have cause to ask the nature of this place. Do you know of anything that occurs in the tall spire across the plain, there?"

As the druid neared, he heard no reply and then the doe took a step toward him, revealing her head beneath a shaft of starlight in the process.

The doe's head was missing an eye and half of its face was nothing but bone.

Fen stayed his approach in shock. He now noticed, closer, that one of its legs was also nothing but bone, the flesh and muscle dangling off of it in an unappealing way.

The doe took another step and opened its mouth. Its tongue lolled out of the half-open jaw and it made a sound like...like nothing Fen had ever heard...something between a sick goat or a tortured cat.

It took another step toward Fen.

"Abomination!" the druid called to his companions and his leaftip-bladed spear, instinctually, took on the pale green glow of the druid's enchantments.

"What did he say?" asked Haelan quietly to Duor, hoping he had not just heard what he thought.

"Something in deer-speak. Who cares?" the dwarf replied not paying attention to the druid, but noting some motion in the trees to their opposite side.

"Somethin' over there though." he warned his companions and pulled the hand crossbow from his hip, inserting a dart into the small string without removing his gaze from the slow moving humanoid figure that passed behind one tree to the next.

Fen stabbed at the lumbering slow creature with his spear. It sunk through mostly rotted flesh and again the creature gave out its sickly bellow.

"And there! Before us!" Erevan now said from his position beside Festus in the front of the party.

He nocked an arrow with fluid grace and let fly, but the humanoid figure moved behind a tree. The arrow struck solid into the trunk. His violet elvin eyes now noticed several of the shuffling shapes in the woods around them.

One of the figures now moved from behind a tree, just beside the party and reached for Alaria.

The wizardess swung in reflex with her staff, which had not been providing light for fear of attracting attention from the strange demon-horse-thing they'd seen earlier.

The staff now flared with an electrical spark and crackle, striking a solid pblow against the gaunt, rotting face of the zombie that assaulted her with a low moan. The blow struck the thing's head clean off its shoulders with a loud crackling flare.

It took another step before falling in a heap at Alaria's feet.

"Zombies!" Braddok astutely pointed out for everyone.

Another now came from the other direction, Duor jumped away from the reaching clawed grey limbs and fired his hand crossbow. The dart sank into the zombie's leg, but seemed to do nothing to deter the undad creature's advance. Duor drew his ethereal dagger.

Braddok laid low another of the things with a single swipe of his magic longsword, severing the poor soul at the waist. Its bottom half dropped. Its top half continued to claw toward the warrior until his took off its head with another swing of the dully glowing blade.

Alaria looked, in some horror at the body of the creature at her feet. The clothes it wore seemed to have once been finery, now tarnished and tattered, but seemed as though they may have once been courtly garb to her eyes.

With another swipe of his green glowing blade, Fen abolished the abonimation of the zombie-deer. He said a silent prayer to the Green and the Balance for the poor creature and raced back to where his companions were being assaulted.

No sooner had he rejoined the group than he felt a slicing across the side of his abdomen. The pain of the wound was nothing compared to the sapping freezing cold it left in its wake.

He cried and turned in time to see the last movements of a shadow sink into the darkness of a tree. The druid was confused and fearful. He felt confused...the cold...it burned?

"There's something else here..." Fen said with worry. "Haelan, do that thing you do..." the druid instructed.

"Undead!" Festus called with a solid swipe of his falshion through the worm filled belly of another zombie. "Yeah, Hilltender, now'd be good!"

Haelan heard the druid's and ranger's requests as he thudded his mace into the knees of the zombie that had assaulted Duor.

The legs seemed to separate in a burst of dust and three-quarters of the zombie flopped to the ground. It continued to claw its way toward the halfling and dwarf.

Duor put his green smoky dagger blade into the zombie's skull and it promptly stopped moving.

"AAAAAH!" Alaria screamed as a darkness leaped out of the shadows of the fallen zombie, beneath the flickering sparks of her staff.

It raked dagger-like "claws" of shadow through the magess' belly. The cold was overwhelming.

Alaria clung to her staff with all of her remaining strength just to keep her footing.

"LIET!" she shouted and a burst of yellowy light flared around her outstretched hand.

The shadow being seemed to shrink back away and "dove" into the shadow of another tree, disappearing entirely.

"It's so cold...a shade of some kind...Haelan..." Alaria said haggardly.

Braddok jumped through the companions to move between Alaria and wherever the thing that attacked her had disappeared.

The party now closed ranks, back to back, with Haelan in the middle.

There were five more zombies closing in around them.

"AH! Haelan, DAMMIT! Where's Goldilocks when you need'im?!" shouted Duor as a chilling rake passed over his back. There was no tearing or ripping of his cloak or armor, just the pain and debilitating cold that seemed to take the dwarf's strength right out of him.

"It was there! Came out of Alaria's shadow and disappeared behind Haelan!" Erevan said. He turned and released another arrow into an approaching zombie. The shaft struck clean through the things dessicated skull with a "puff" of dust.

The zombie kept coming, a hole now in the center of its face that shone, clear through to the woods and starlit plain beyond.

Haelan took the pinecone shaped holy symbol out from beneath his pine-green tabard. He held it aloft and, as it had in Shafton, his voice took on a quality of power and assurance that the companions were not used to hearing.

"Faerantha, Mother of the Hill, fill me with your loving light and force these creatures from your holy presence!" he shouted into the night.

The small amulet took on a honey-colored sheen for a moment before the whole of Haelan's form was similarly bathed in light. An instant later, the daelvar seemed to become engulfed in a ball of dark golden-luminance.

The smell of pine trees and summer breezes filled the area and the cleric shone with his divine might.

"Haelan look out!" cried Festus as he saw the beginnings of the shadow form thing reaching out from a patch of darkness beside the cleric.

Before the satyr could lunge for it, Haelan burst into the honey-colored sun they had seen in Shafton. The woods for easily 20-feet round them came alive in a golden "daylight" that they could assume this realm had never seen.

The shadow made an unearthly shriek at the bright holy assault. It was as if the cry was there, yet not there...far away somehow. It disappeared entirely..."thrown" it seemed from the consecrated and, momentarily, entirely holy daelvar.

Two zombies who were closing in burst into dust almost immediately. The three remaining moaned their disapproval and turned from the group, seeking to escape the painful radiance, and disappeared back into the night-shrouded portions of the woods.

"Make for the plain! Perhaps, under the starlight, we might be safe from the shadow!" Erevan suggested before moving as fast as the group might. The elf was careful not to leave the bathing "sunlight" of the cleric.

Braddok aided the obviously debilitated Alaria. Festus did the same for Duor, though kept one hand free and full of blade. Fen moved after the rest, watching their back with his spear pointed toward the edge of Haelan's brilliance. The spear's soft green natural enchantment was all but invisible within the shining light of the Hilltender's goddess.

The companions were awed by what they saw when they exited the wood-line, but did not stop. They had traveled a good portion of the wide open, entirely tree or brush free wide "bowl" of darkened earth that stood between the forest and the mound upon which the indigo tower rose into the sky.

Then the grace of Haelan's goddess left him and they found themselves upon the barren wide plain, beneath the twinkling white glow of the multitude of unknown stars that filled this night-realm's sky.

Fearful of pursuit, the party did not stop their race for the mound and tower. As they neared, a scuttled boat was apparent at the edge of the incline, beside a short pier that poked out from the "shore."

Erevan then realized they were in a dried up moat or lake...Like the one in Gorathgraard...or the other Gorathgraard...but long devoid of water.

They neared the tower to find no door.

Fen half-expected for a woman of snow to sweep up into existence in their path. But none did.

"Look there." Duor pointed up. There appeared to be door two, maybe three, stories above the ground.

"I could prolly climb that." the dwarf suggested.

Alaria contemplated using her levitation spell and lamented, to herself, the loss of the Ihs Repahl.

As they quickly discussed how to get to the door, a twinkle of stars began to form, first at the base of the door and then descend downward.

"That demon-horse-thing is coming this way!" Fen said, loudly with concern, scanning out over the woods they'd recently left. The creature seemed to halt its airbound charge some distance within, above, the woods.

The twinkling stars that had transfixed most of the party ceased and in their wake, a long staircase rose up to where the door was.

"Nice goin', boss lady!" Duor said.

"It wasn't me, Duor." Alaria replied, her eyes now nervously upon the demon-horse.

A ball of fire was seen bursting into being from, what she couldn't be sure but supposed to be the outstretched arm of the rider Erevan had noted earlier.

"Up the stairs!" Alaria shotued. "Hurry!"

Noone needed to be told twice, in fact Haelan, Festus and Erevan were already bounded up them.

The ball of flame left the floating creature(s) and streaked out over the trees and over the barren plain.

As the first of the company reached the top stair, the door swung open (inward).

They all rushed inside.

Fen, at the rear, took the blink of the eye to look again at the fireball heading for them.

As it reached the edge of the "shore" on their side of the plain, it simply "turned" and fell with a thundering explosion of flame that shattered and burned the pier and scuttled boat below them.

The druid dove inside and the door immediately shut behind him with a slam.

Fen roused himself from the floor to stand behind the rest of the party.

They all stood in silence. They stared at the only figure or feature within the massive round chamber, much as the winter-Gorathgraard had appeared.

A woman stood before them swathed in rippling robes of indigo and deep violet. Stars twinkled here and there all across the boddice and down the skirts. She was as pale as Amthyriine had been, but had hair that flowed down her back, nearly to the floor. Her hair was raven black and also seemed to have stars that twinkled into and out of existence within the tresses that "blew" in no discernable breeze within the chamber.

Her eyes were as captivating as Amthyriine's had been. Large and thick darkly lashed, but sparkling with silver...as though full of stars.

"Thou truly art champions of supreme courage, to be sure.: the raven haired woman said.

None made reply.

"Else filled with supreme folly...devoid of sense." she said with a glower.

The woman stared harshly at the group for a moment before adressing them again.

"Apologies. The encounter with the shadow hast obviously taken its toll upon thee. " she said, though her tone softened by only a little.

"Stay thy weapons. Be at peace and ease. Rest thyselves, here, by the fire. I shall have Imgulg bring refreshment." she said and stepped aside to reveal a flickering firepit like the last tower they'd been in. The benches and couches were adorned in throws and blankets and pillows of black and violet trimmed and sparkling with silver.

The ambient light of the chamber was brighter than outdoors, and looking up, the party saw that the high ceiling was alight with small twinkling, star-like pinpoints of light.

"Our thanks, lady..." Braddok dared to address the woman, seemingly swathed in night.

"Are you kiddin'? She's, obviously, the Dark One!" Duor protested and refused to sheathe his weapon even as his companions all relaed and did so.

"I...the Dark One?!" she said with great incredulity. "Mayhaps, master dwarf, thou wouldst rather enjoy the hospitality of my sister outside."

"That demon-horse outside is your sister?!" Haelan burst in surprise.

The star-sparkling woman looked at the daelvar in curiosity. "Nay. The rider upon the nightmare tis my sister...Madagbueil <pronounciation note: "mah-DAG'-bwee-ill">, lost to the sinister corruptions of the Dark One, lo these eons ago."

"Oh dear. That's terrible!" Haelan replied in sympathy. "She was...I mean...was she...one of the Swan Maids? Are you sisters with Amthyriine, too? We met her...lovely woman...makes a grand hot chocolate."

"Yay. Amthyriine tis another of my kin...the youngest. The protection of her realm from the Dark One's influence, specifically by Madagbueil, tis my sole reason for continued existence in this lost place. Thou hast seen her?"

"Indeed, lady, it is by her...um...grace that we found our way to this realm. Tell me, if you would, is this also Gorathgraard?" Alaria cautiously asked.

"Anthyriine knows little of grace, magess. Impudence and childishness she surely doth. But yay, tis Gorarthgraard...or once couldst be so called. Now all but lost to the pestilence seeping from Madagbueil's touch.

"Curious she wouldst bid thee here...I wonder..." the dark lady intoned. Then seemed to quiet in thoughts of her own.

"Wondrous lady, might we have the honor of knowing your name? That we might thank you properly and give honor to your most welcome intervention." Fen proposed.

The woman's unblinking silver eyes turned to Fen. Her countenance took on that of a storm, as Alaria sometimes did, the wavering of her hair and then robe seemed to rise in some unfelt increasing wind.

"Do not think to charm my with thy serpent's tongue, halfling." the woman glared at the druid.

Haelan found this quite amusing. He'd never heard anyone but a daelvar referred to as a "halfling" before.

"I know the ways of thine traitorous cult!" she continued.

"Again with the 'traitor' thing, eh, half-blood. Yer battin' a thousand with these regal sorts." Duor jibed. In his mind, however, the continued accusation of Fen, did rouse much curiosity and concern for the dwarf. His 'traitorous cult', Duor thought to himself. Seems the druids did something to piss off these curious magical women in their weird magic bubbles.

The woman's twinkling silver eyes turned to Duor. Her expression did not soften.

"I truly aver, my lady, that Fen is no traitor to us. He has, in fact, been most helpful and a true champion to our cause." Braddok offered.

"And what cause might that be, warrior?" she said before taking a good long look at Braddok.

"Well, we're trying to find Nor Gorthok...but then...Alaria thinks we already have...but here we are...and..." Festus began to reply. His attempt to explain that which he barely understood, himself, was silenced by Erevan's light hand on his shoulder and a curt shake of the head by the elf.

Regardless, the woman seemed not to be paying the satyr any mind. The swirling unfelt wind calmed about her.

"Thou hast been touched by one of the Eight!" she then said in breathy surprise, more to herself than to the heroes. "Curious. Thou art truly a most unusual company...of heroes or fools, I still know not."

"Good lady, please. What is your name?" Erevan now asked.

She looked at the elf. An unspoken sadness seemed to full her face now.
It seemed as though she again moved her attention to inward thoughts.

"Evaranthriine," <pronounciation note: "ev-er-AN'-three-en"> she said quietly, then again became stern of tone. "Thou mayst call me Evaranthriine, as none have done since my beloved twas lost...mayhaps longer still."

The company was now situated about the fire. The star-strewn raven-haired Evaranthriine began to move to the single long staircase that led up to some landing high above.

"Be at peace. Take refreshment. We mayst converse more upon my return." she said and without stopping again, swept up the stairs and out of view.

The companions watched as she rose about the perimeter of the tower in silence, not giving them another glance. They noted that she moved with the same fluid-like grace of Amthyriine. Her shirts seems to just brush across the floor with her passing, no indication of "steps" being taken.

"Guess the kitchen's upstairs in this one." Duor said, aside, to Festus. "So, tree-buggerer, what's all of this traitor business with you then?"

Fen merely shrugged. "I honestly have no idea, friend Duor. But I thank thee..er..you..Braddok, for your kindly defense. I have no idea, but it sounds as though these lovely ladies have been wronged by my order in some way."

"Sounds like they were wronged by her sister, t'me." Haelan mentioned and kicked his feet up closer to the fire to warm himself. He glanced around the vast empty interior of the tower. Smiling to himself as he looked at the "stars" on the ceiling. He felt comfortable, like he was outside on a spring night. "I hope she makes as good hot chocolate as her other sister though." he smiled to noone in particular.

Then sadness came over the daelvar's face and he added, quietly, "I wish Coerainne were here."

Alaria ignored her own sadness at the Hilltender's statement and brushed passed it supposing to the company that they might find more knowledge of Nor Gorthok here. Not to mention this "Madagbueil" who, the magess feared, they may have to face again when to leave this place and find a new portal...hopefully, back to their Feldmere.

"And what do you suppose about what she said about her "champion"? Do you think, perhaps, that might be another of the Swan Knights, like the others Amthyriine mentioned?" Erevan posed before standing at the sound of footsteps coming from the far distant stars that led down out of the chamber...just as there had been in the previous tower.

All werre surprised to see an aged dwarf come up from the stairs. He was hunched and haggard looking, but wore a simple tunic of deep indigo. His stark white beard was simply bound in a strip of leather, just at the tip near his ankles. He carried a silver tray, set with similar yet different silver goblets encrusted with dark blue and violet gemstones aroudn the bowls.

"Here now, kinsman!" Duor perked up. "How do yeh come to be in this Forge forsaken place?!"

The old dwarf's eyes rose from the tray and then portrayed a glimmer of surprise at seeing another of his kind. He smiled weakly at Duor. "Hail and well met, brother." he said at first.

He passed out the goblets to the companions, hastily, and went back to stand before Duor, all but completely ignoring the rest of the companions' questioing looks. As it had been in the "winter-Gorathgraard", each goblet contained something different, ideally suiting each hero's taste. Haelan's naturally, was filled with frothy hot chocolate.

"Whence clan dost thou hail? What news hast thou from the outside werrold for Ole Imgulg?" the white-bearded dwarf smiled, strangely, haltingly, as if it were a long time since he had made such an expression with his face.