Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"

The dwarves chit-chatted (in dwarven tongue, of course) for a bit before Alaria took a sip of her black ginger tea and interrupted.

"Imgulg, can you tell us, please, how you came to be here? Tell us about your mistress and this strange realm bathed in night." the magess asked as politely and casually as she could.

"He's been around since the beginning!" Duor said excitedly. "He knows where the treasure is!"

"Aye, mistress. Twas just tellin' cousin Duor, here. I've been with milady for's long as I cin 'member. Her fada before her.

"Poor lass. So full o' life and joy once 'ponna time. Don' judge her harsh, I beg ye. She is bitter with loss and deservin' o' yer sympathies. I came with the mistress an' 'av been here e'er since. I won't 'bandon her...nay for alla gold'n the werrold. She's a good mistress." the white-bearded dwarf replied.

"What is it she's bitter 'bout losing?" Haelan said offhandedly as he took long appreciative sips of the, equally deilicious to the winter-Gorathgraard, hot chocolate.

"Wut she ain't, curious furry-footed one? Her fada. Her home. I mean her real, first home. Her sisters. Her beloved champ'yun. Then Madag-" the dwarf stopped himself at the mention of the name and looked toward the stairs.

He continued in a softer tone.

"Then, her one sister fell to the Dark One's influence. Cursed her champ'yun, she did. Inna form mindless and fere'er tied to this Forge-forsaken place." Imgulg halted his speech. His eyes went to the floor and a sadness greater, if possible, than the expression that seemed the norm for his face came over him.

"Milady has been through much. Watched the disintegration of this world her b'loved fada gave to her n' her kin...with his last breath, he did!

'Twas all well for a time. Then, them wut din't go with the Lady Amthyriine began t'fall. Twer lost, one by one.

"Milady watched'm. Protectin' them as she could. But one by one, all'em lost. The beasts. The birds. The courtiers n' servants til only Ole Imgulg is left.

"That horrible!" Haelan exlaimed. "Madag-a-bwil did that?" the daelvar was fairly confident he'd gotten the pronounciation correct.

"Twisted in the wicked corruption's o' her lost sister, they was. Lur'd by her magics n' charms. Left to roamin' the woods, mindless, tireless...dead but undying....til the woods 'came swamps...n' still they wander. Lost fore'er.

"Milady lost many friends. Many devoted ladies n' lords. But none so dear or tragic as what...the Dark One done milady many inj'ries but none greater'n wut she did o' poor Inskuel." he finished. As if to forget all that he was recalling, the dwarf looked up to the other companions and asked if any needed "more drink?"

"We're fine, good master Imgulg." Festus said at first and then found his spiced wine was, actually, empty. "Oh, um, well yeah. I suppose so."

"Festus!" Alaria chastised. "What is this form with which Madag-er -um, her sister, cursed her champion? He was one of the Swan Knights, like Ifthrakuel and Itzisgruel?" she asked.

"Aye. Twas a noble soul. Lost now t'wander the swamps a broken husk of a creature, bound t'the plants n' murky muds. Tis a fate wors'n death fer a warrior such as he...was." Imgulg again looked sadder than normal.

It didn't take much for most of the party (Haelan and Festus, notably excluded) to come to the conclusion that the Swan Knight was, or might be, that "shambler" they'd encountered.

Before Alaria could ask more, Fen interjected.

"Good dwarf, I've no doubt you've tended your lady lo' these many eons. But what was it, if you know, that might have been done by the Holy Order of Mistwood. I would, if I may, seek to make amends as it sound there has been a long time for grudges and bad feelings I would see remedied." the druid offered.

He made no charming smile, not any 'pleasant' look. He seemed entirely sincere, as best he could.

Imgulg frowned at the druid. "Ye dost not ken?" he began angrily. But then, he took a breath and looked again at the stairs. "Nay. I suppose ye wouldst not. The time has been long in this starlit place and, judging by what cousin Duor hast told me, the werrold tis now much changed..."

The dwarf seemed to think for a minute. He placed a finger to his bearded chin and seemed to be trying to recall something.

"Ah! Yay, I 'member. Twas one o' ye Greencloaks what brought the Dark One to Gorathgraard n' milord Gorathiel. Interduced 'em, s'I recall. Twas a friend o' high repute with his lordship...the Forge keep 'im."

When none of the companions made other query or interruption, Imgulg continued.

"Twas an advisor n' trusted friend to his lordship...I'm nay permitted t'speak his name in this hall, by milady's command. But he was one o' yer a...Sha-...Shaylok..ye calls 'em? A...wutzit?...a 'Keeper' in the human tongue.

"Said twas sent by yer 'order' to help maintain the beautiful realm milord had created inna werrold." Imgulg, literally, spat on the floor behind the couch.

"Twas a liar n' corruptor. Stayed milord's hand mor'n once against the Dark One...counseled him to accept the Temptress' affections n' averred, o'er n' o'er, her 'love' t'be true. Twas HIM wut did this to us."

He shook his head at the floor at some unknown lament. "Brought the Dark One, he did. Brought 'bout the end'a the whole o' our werrold, he did.

"All the folk of Gorathgraard he doomed. E'en Ole Imgulg. And so...ye und'rstand, milady hast no love for ye n' yers." Imgulg concluded more to himself than the company as he moved to collect Festus' goblet and replace it on his silver tray. He took Haelan's proffered empty cup as well.

"Might I assist yeh, oorn?" Duor asked as he rose from his seat. <DM's note: "oorn" - a dwarven term for "elder" or "father" harkening back to the origins of dwarfkind believed created by the Elder god, Oor, who was said to have carved the original dwarves of Orea from stone in his own image.>

This struck all of the companions as strange, Duor offering to help?! But Duor was very curious to explore more of this tower than he did the last.

Imgulg looked again to the staircase that rose arond the perimeter of the single chambered ground floor. "Milady wouldst nay like it." he said at first. But then his expression softened and he added, "But yer a nimble one. Cain't begrudge Ole Imgulg a bit o' aid after all this time." he winked at Duor and let the young dwarf accompany him down to the kitchens.

Imgulg returned with the refreshed drinks. He left Duor in the unremarkable kitchen, below. What the dwarf rogue was hoping to find, the aged dwarf did not really care. There was nothing of interest, as far as Imgulg was concerned, for his youthful kinsman to find.

"Alaria Staver and Erevan Ryvsorai, I wouldst speak with thou." came the voice of Evaranthriine from above to everyone's surprise. The star-studded lady stood upon the landing far above looking down upon the companions.

Alaria and the others who had suffered at the swiping sapping attacks of the shadow noticed they were beginning to feel significantly better from the warmth of the firepit and the tasteful libations.

The magess and the elf rose and made the slow climb up the winding staircase. Their companions watched in concern, hoping that nothing would befall their magical companions, but assured they could rush to their aid if needs be.

They entered the chamber that seemed to encompass the whole of the second floor. To one side there were a few rows of books and scrolls. Another part of the walls contained shelves filled with jars and bottles, boxes and containers of all sorts of materials, stacked bunches of dried herbs, bones and crystals and stones of every color and luminosity. Most of the interior of the floor was taken with long tables piled with tomes and scrolls, glass beakers and tubes and hoses running into other tubes and beakers, small cauldrons atop contained flames bubbled and gave off wispy smokes and steams of a myriad of pale colors.

The odors of the room were staggering to Alaria. She could only imagine what the elf's heightened senses were doing to the elf. A sidelong look at Erevan proved the elf to visibly bothered by the assaulting mixture of scents.

Evaranthriine seemed neither to notice, or simply didn't care. She led the two spellcasters to one of the smaller tables around which a few chairs were arranged.

In the center of the table, a perfect sphere of crystal, not dissimilar in size and appearance to the Ihs Repahl rested in an elegant silver stand.

The lady shrouded in night indicated they should sit as she took a seat in the high-backed chair of very worn-looking midnight blue velvet.

"It is my supposition thou wouldst not wish to remain here over long, though, there are chambers aplenty for thou to rest as long as thou wish." Evaranthriine began.

"Indeed, Lady Evaranthriine." Alaria replied. "We would like to return to our own world as soon as might be possible. I would ask if you know of a gateway we might use to that end?"

Evaranthriine shook her head and stared at the crystal ball on the table. "I am afeared, wizard, that my sister made the portals her first priority upon her fall. She distorted or destroyed all of the existing gateways. Plundering the tombs as she went, the witch! All except for one...which leads only to her own realm." She paused another moment and looked hard at the two magic adepts.

"Truth be told, I was unsure there were any other modes for entry than that remaining portal. It seems Amthyriine has access I was not aware of...or perhaps, in the unpassing night I had simply forgotten." she said.

"However, with our realms still being joined, I have been able to determine that the gateway into the original Gorathgraard yet exists within her dark realm. It is through that gateway, as it is the only way I know, that you might return to your world..." then in a whispered weighted down in sadness added, "...once our world."

"Lady, I am sorry to see you thus. Is there no way you might return to Orea as well? Could we, possibly, defeat your sister that you and the Lady Amthyriine would be safe and unhindered before we left? Is there no way to break the Dark One's hold on her?" Erevan offered.

Alaria was quite surprised at the offer. She had already thought she might offer they break the curse upon her champion, for her. Though, truth be told, Alaria thought to herself after seeing the laboratory and magical equipment at her disposal, if this Lady of Night could not undo it herself, Alaria had little hopes they possessed the necessary power.

Evaranthriine looked surprised at Erevan's question. "You ask that which I had long ago stopped considering, master Staliiri. You offer what I long ago thought impossible and lost to me fore'er...to hope again? I dare not."

Erevan wanted to correct the lady that he was one of the Miralostae not of the ShiStaliiri...but thought the better of it. He realized, with what they knew of these strange Swan women, that they would have no knowledge of his relatively "new" [in elf terms] nation.

"Could we, perhaps, free your champion from his curse? I hope you do not mind Imgulg told us a bit of what had transpired here. though to be honest, Lady Evaranthriine, I suspect you are much more versed in the Mysteries than we." Alaria offered cautiously.

Evaranthriine actually grinned at the R'Hathi woman's honesty. It was the sort of grin an adult gives a child who had just figured something out for themselves for the first time.

"Certainly not." she said, albeit kindly. "Yet where I am doomed to failure, magess, it is just possible, though I almost dare not to imagine the possibility, that you might succeed."

"The only possibility, which I am forbidden by law and oath to even attempt, wouldst be Madagbueil's death. A constraint thou art nay bound." Evaranthriine said. She was obviously working through various information in her own mind.

"Yes...but thou wouldst nay stand a chance of survival at present." Evaranthriine said, somewhat deflated.

The lady stood, somewhat quickly, and proclaimed to the magess and elf. "Thou shalt remain, for such a time as thou mayst increase thy skills. This place is yours to utilize as thou might. I shall offer what assistance I may.

"Your companions are capable, I am sure, of honing their own skills as might be necessary. I can offer suitable distraction and opponents aplenty in the surrounding land for their more...physical abilities." Evaranthriine said.

Then, more sternly, "I shall even permit your fellow of the Green to come and go, as he might, for whatever practice he might require. But I warn thou now! If he causes the slightest of infractions or I perceive the hint of treachery from him, I shall hold thou all accountable and you shall be thrust out into Madagbueil's waiting claws. Am I understood? Are we in agreement?"

Alaria and Erevan both thought that they should consult their companions first to see if this was amenable, but the lady's stern manner caused them to agree forthwith.

"Imgulg and the Spire shall see to your needs. I shall have him show you to chambers." Evaranthriine declared and moved out of the "library/laboratory" in a soundless sweep of her twinkling starlit gown.

Author/DM's note: Everybody's going up a level! For Alaria and a couple of others this means 3rd level spells! Albeit a limited selection, in Alaria and Erevan's, based on what they have with them and what Evaranthriine's materials have at their disposal. But still, a good jump for everyone.

Next time: The Hunt for the Dread Witch Madagbueil.

I had already been wondering about the next level

I love the old dwarf, kinda reminds me of my long lost grandpa for some reason hehe

Alaria was gently roused by the old dwarf, Imgulg. It seemed she had fallen asleep, again, sprawled over the ancient tomes and scrolls she had been studying and perusing. Someone, presumably Imgulg, had covered her shoulders with a blanket.

The dwarf smiled at the magess and offered her a silver goblet of honeyed elfvine. "Rise n' shine, magess." the dwarf offered with his weird crooked grin.

Alaria took the goblet and sipped on the sweet golden wine. It was like elfvine and yet not. "My thanks, Imgulg. How long have I been sleeping?" Alaria asked, blinking the sleep from her eyes and noticing the entirely spent candles on the small table in the back of Evaranthriine's library where she had been during almost all of her waking hours for that past...she couldn't even say how long.

The old dwarf set about replacing the used candles and lighting fresh ones with a long taper. "Ye've had a good long nap, lass. Four or five hours at the least."

She casually picked up the scroll she had begun studying last "night" before sleep had claimed her. She drew another sip of the wine and look ed at the old dwarf. "Imgulg, how long have I been at this? I swear, at times, I feel I shall never comprehend these formulae. The Lady Evaranthriine's gracious assistance notwithstanding, of course."

"Well, tis difficult to tell o' course." Imgulg finished lighting the candles and blew out the taper. He looked at the R'Hathi girl and grinned again. "Ye 'mind me so much o' them. The Lady n' her sisters, I mean. So talented. So determined."

He placed a gnarled solid hand on her shoulder. "Ye'll get it, I have no doubt o' that.

"As to the time...I'd say, mayhaps, a week? Mayhaps, eight or nine days? Ye've hardly been keepin' what I'd call 'regular hours.'" the dwarf chuckled a bit under his beard.

Alaria smiled back and peered down the one aisle between the shelves to where the central table with the crystal ball and high-backed chair Evaranthriine had spent so much time in these passed days. She was not there.

"Dost...erm...Do you know whence..I mean...where our Lady has gone?" Alaria stumbled over the words. The archaic mode of speaking that Imgulg and Evaranthriine used was proving ever more easy to slip into.

"Aye. Milady hast gone to her private chambers. Yer men hast ventured into the woods again...Oh, 'bout two hours passed." Imbulg answered.

Braddok, Fen, Festus, sometimes with Haelan and/or Duor, had been making regular forays into the surrounding desolate woods to do what they could to eliminate the evils that infested this realm of night.

When they did so, Evaranthriine assured them, the strange sorceress swathed in night did what she could to mask their coming and going from the prying evil eyes of her wicked sister.

They knew that Madagbueil had retreated to her own realm after the party arrived at Evaranthriine's "Spire." They also knew, according to Evaranthriine and Imgulg that she could not hope to pierce the tower, even as Evaranthriine could not pierce into the spire in Madagbueil's realm. But there could be little doubt she was interested in keeping tabs on what the party was doing, especially having been there for so long.

Evaranthriine assured them she was doing what she could from her realm of night to keep the evil witch, her "former" sister, distracted in Madagbueil's own twisted realm.

"Have you seen Erevan?" Alaria noticed that the desk the elf had been prone to use these past "days" was also unattended.

"Aye, the elf's taken to the field wit' th'others." Imgulg answered. "Said he needed t'stretch his bow arm. An' the daelvar is in his room...prayin' as usual." the old dwarf said with a roll of his eyes. Then he added, "Guess it does him some good. Who'm I t'judge."

Imgulg's head turned toward where the door to the chamber was and patted Alaria on the shoudler again. He looked at the wizardess and winked.

"Ye'll get it, lass. I know ye will. But I must be off. Much to do." he smiled. "Been nice t'have 'much t'do' after so long.

"I'll give ye 'nother hour at most and then ye best come down fer somethin' t'eat." the dwarf said as a kindly father and took his exit.

Alaria returned to her scrolls and tomes. That symbol was for lightning. The first syllable was to harnessing the requisite energy from the ether. Then the second called into form...but that next symbol...she knew it...that was...dammit all!

She turned her attention to the thick volume which had served as her pillow. Two pages of arcane syllables with pronunciations beside them.

Alaria, for the umpteenth time, scoured the pages for the sound to match the sigil she was looking at...which would also tell her what the next utterance was meant to bring into being.

She drew another long sip of her elfvine.

-----------------------------

Braddok, Festus, Duor and Erevan returned through the doorway, "hidden" by magics, that they'd been using in and out of the "bottom floor" that led into the kitchen.

They were covered in gore but each, except Erevan, had wide smiles on their faces and congrtulated each other on the disposing of several creatures that afternoon.

Imgulg was hard at work, toiling over pots and pans. He basted a spit full of various birds, "pheasants" he informed the warriors. The old dwarf was also chopping vegetables and then moving to the stove top to stir soup.

The companions, several "days" ago, had stopped wondering or asking where all of the provisions came from as the answer, invariably, was the old dwarf pointing to one of the other doors that led off the kitchen and saying, "Pantry, o' course."

Duor had tried, twice, to gain entry while no one was watching. Both attempts were unsuccessful. Now, he just agreed to go with the flow of this weird magic place.

Festus regaled the old dwarf with their exploits of the day as Imgulg fetched libations for each of the men and offered them some slabs of meat which were "just finished."

The white-bearded dwarf smiled readily these "days", thoroughly enjoying the life and verve being back in his mistress' house.

"Valorous tales will e'er be sung 'round th'fires of Gorathgraard once again, lads. Whence the druid, though?" Imgulg asked.

"Shed he had more shtuff t'do on that garden'a his." Festus responded through a mouthful of pheasant leg.

"Aye," added Duor, "said he was on the verge o' some kinda 'break through.' W'ever that means." He took a long draw on the flagon of first-rate ale he had become very accustomed to and appreciative of from the silver goblet.

Fen had taken it upon himself to try to "right the wrong" his order had done the Lady Evaranthriine. As his meager abilities allowed, he was attempting to "restart Nature" in the starry world. He spent hours each "day" meditating and invoking his powers to bring about some kind of growth, encouraging the long dead flowerbeds and bushes of a small walled in garden behind the tower to return to life.

"Get thee to the fire. I'll bring the food up soon." Imgulg urged the warriors.

"Can we help, friend Imgulg?" Braddok offered. He was already taking up a ladel and mixing a pot of thick-looking tomato-based soup while the old dwarf was chopping some long white carrot-like root on the cutting board.

"If ya wish, master Braddok. Wouldst be appreciated." Imgulg answered in a smile. How the young man reminded him of his lady's lost champion. Courteous, handsome, skilled with the blade.

He was, no doubt, a worthy champion for the lady magess upstairs. Imgulg held high hopes for their eventual union. He had broached the topic with his kinsman, Duor, some "days" ago after observing how the warrior and magess interacted.

"PfAH! That'll be th'day." had been Duor's response. "Alaria's got her nose stuck in the air when it's not inna book. N' Braddok, don't get me wrong, I like Braddok very much...but he's, well, a bit gloomy since comin' back from the dead n' all."

Imgulg just nodded at the response. The old dwarf knew what he saw and it had not been so many eons that he'd forgotten how love took hold and grew. All in time, Imgulg had told himself. Everything in it's own time...as has always been the way, since the first carving of the Rocks of Oor.

<Author/DM's note: the "Rocks of Oor" are the term used among dwarfkind for the first legendary dwarves created by the Elder god, Oor, that spawned the rest of dwarvenkind. Hence the cultural belief that all dwarves are, in some way, going back far enough, related and, thus, "kinsmen.">

"Champions, attend me in the Great Hall." came the voice of Evaranthriine echoing through the kitchen...in fact, through the entire tower.

"It is time." the Lady's stern disembodied voice said.

Congrats!

I just caught up with your story hour and find it very entertaining. Thanks a lot for writing this up for all of us and congratulations on such a successful tale!

Hope to hear more about the 'Stormriders' adventures!

Also, I had a question: Wasn't the satyr a replacement PC while Broddick was being resurrected? Is one person playing two characters? And what is the palladin's player doing while the rest of the group continues on?

redcat said:

I just caught up with your story hour and find it very entertaining. Thanks a lot for writing this up for all of us and congratulations on such a successful tale!

Hope to hear more about the 'Stormriders' adventures!

Also, I had a question: Wasn't the satyr a replacement PC while Broddick was being resurrected? Is one person playing two characters? And what is the palladin's player doing while the rest of the group continues on?

Click to expand...

Many thanks, redcat...and welcome to EN World!

The Stormriders have a bit of a ways to go yet. haha. So no worries. There will be further adventures.

As memory serves, Coerraine's player had some "real life" stuff going on at the time that required him to stop playing. So no worries about him.

Festus, yes, was Braddok's player's "replacement." He has been playing them both, for the most part. Sometimes, if he's not in the mood, he has Duor's player use him for a session here and there. But neither having 2 characters has been an issue. They know what they're doing.

Hoping to get a post up in the near future. Hang tight.

And thanks, again, to everyone for their interest and reading along.
--SD

Alaria exited the second floor library/laboratory her mind swam with arcane syllables and phrasing. Distracted by her own thoughts, she didn't notice Haelan coming bounding down the stairs from the third level that contained their chambers until he nearly ran into her legs.

He wore his signature broad smile and was positively bubbling with excitement as he met her.

"Alaria! Alaria! You won't believe it! I think I can do it. Auntie Gaela came to me in a vision and said I could. She told me Faerantha wants me to! Can you believe it? We can do it!" Haelan bulleted off, his eyes bright with a glassy kind of flare.

"Slow down, Haelan. What are you talking about? Who's Auntie Gaela? What can we do?" the magess calmly responded to the Hilltender's babblings. She descended the winding stairs that hugged the perimeter of a broad open stairwell.

"Auntie Gaela is Faerantha's sister. She's part of the Holy Family, the gods of the Daelvar. We only worship Faernatha, directly, as you know. Her being the matriarch and all. Gaela minds the family and the hearth.She protects the home and our loved ones..." Haelan began his lengthy explanation.

His voice faded from Alaria's ears as the two descended the long winding staircase that hugged the perimeter of the tower. She noted casually, half-listening to Haelan, that Erevan, Festus and Duor entered the chamber below. Her mentor for the passed however many days it had been, Lady Evaranthriine, stood patiently at one side of the large fire pit. The long broad table they had all dined at was to the side, near the stairs that descended to the kitchens which the men had been spending much time in of late and used for entrance and egress.

The thought perked up into her mind as to where it had come from and how the old dwarf had managed to get the huge table into the chamber.

"...and she said I could do it! Then she disappeared." Haelan finished, as usual, with a tint of disappointment in his voice at what was usually the anticlimactic end of any of his tales.

"Could do what, Haelan?!" Alaria responded with a bit too much annoyance in her voice. Her frustration at the newest spell was bubbling to the fore.

"I can remove the curse on poor Inskuel!" the blond hairfoot replied with a broad smile.

This, caught all of Alaria's attention and the R'Hathi magess stopped in her tracks three steps from the bottom. "What did you say?!" she looked down at the very happy with himself halfling.

"We don't have to kill Mag...Mad-gag...Mad Maggie Bweel! I can remove the curse!" Haelan smiled up at Alaria, sure that she would be happy to hear this news.

Alaria stared agape at the diminutive cleric for a moment before turning to look across the broad hall where Evaranthriine stood, still agape.

"What didst though claim, daelvar?" Evaranthriine said. Her voice was soft, even and stern, yet filled the whole of the huge open floor, as usual.

The company came together around the large fire pit and Haelan again re-explained everything he had said on the staircase to Alaria.

"Soooo, we should take yer word for some vision of yer 'Auntie' and try to hunt down that walkin' composte heap...nay disrespect intended, gracious lady...but the witch is the one doin' all the harm here. Who's t'say she won't just change him back?" Duor asserted.

"Well, she's not my auntie but..." Haelan began to defend.

Evaranthriine interrupted, "While I am inclined to agree with the dwarf's statement, however porrly worded," the lady swathed in a gown of night and stars shot Duor a disapproving look, "I know not of your deity...nor any but the Eight. Mine is the way of the Mysteries. If Ins- my champion may be saved while my sister spared...loathsome as she hast become, I wouldst nay wish her dead if there were any way to avoid it."

Braddok now entered the hall carrying a large tray on each arm. Each was piled high with beautifully roasted vegetables and fowl. He set them down on the long dining table and looked to where the assembled companions stood with their hostess. His close-lipped smile quickly faded to see the serious looks on all of their faces.

"What? Did I miss something?" the confused warrior asked.

"Where is the greencloak?" Evaranthriine asked in a commanding tone.

"Imgulg went to go get him. He was working on your garden again, milady." Braddok answered immediately. "Is everything ok?"

"The Hill-foot thinks he's gonna remove the ages long curse of some demonhorse-riddin'-super-witch cuz his 'auntie' told him to in a vision." Duor replied with all mockery intended.

"Oh." Braddok replied with raised eyebrows.

Haelan folded his arms and had had enough of Duor's constant verbal jabs. "Look, Duor, you don't need to believe in my religion or my gods. They aren't your kind's gods, after all. But a little respect for the divine...any divine, wouldn't kill you."

This raised eyebrows all across the room, including one of Erevan's. Haelan continued.

"And if Gaela says I should and Faerantha wants me to, then that's good enough for me. That's what faith is all about. And whether you believe or have faith in my goddesses I would expect, after all of this time, you would have faith in me and show a little respect for my beliefs and feelings."

The look Haelan shot across the firepit at the dwarven rogue was not one of "asking", neither "pleading" nor "innocent", all of which the companions had come to associate with the Hilltender when he spoke...other than invoking his goddess, the power of which could certainly not be denied.

"Haelan...I..." Duor began only to be interrupted by Evaranthriine.

"The Hilltender speaks with a wisdom that defies his stature." the woman dressed in night moved around the firepit in her "non-walking" sort of way that all of the party had become accustomed to seeing. She laid a pale slender hand upon Haelan's shoulder and looked deep into his eyes with her own silvery star-filled own. "Apologies, Hilltender, you are absolutely correct. Though I know not your divine, your connection to it...Her...can nay be denied."

Alaria felt herself awash in embarrassment at her own, all too often, dismissal of the kindly halfling cleric's formidable faith and heart. He'd healed her more times than she could count. Protected her. Defended her even when she, herself, would have fled. Her mind went to that unbeaten path in their first days together, before they'd even gotten to Shoal, and the Hilltender's invocation of Sanctuary which protected her from a grizzly fate at the hands of goblin ambushers. She, too, felt a rush to apologize to Haelan.

Before she could utter it, Imgulg came rushing up out of the stairs to the kitchen. The old dwarf huffed and puffed as he yelled across the chamber.

"Milady! Milady! Come quickly. You must see! The druid. *huff* See what the druid has done *puff* in the garden." the white-bearded old dwarf panted.

At this, all of the party was surprised and concerned to see the stars that glittered in Lady Evaranthriine's eyes and all about the hems of her regal gown flared brightly. Her alabaster face took on a dark shadow of fury and flowing black tresses from her head flared wildly. A rumble of thunder echoed through the chamber as she raced, again with no indication of running beneath her gown, but with shocking speed, across the chamber and disappeared down the staircase that led to the kitchen and outside to the garden.

"Yep. He's dead." said Festus casually, popping a cherry into his mouth from one of the silver bowls that sat on the dining table. The satyr's eyes met Braddok's disapproving own as he pulled the stem and spat the seed into a smaller bowl.

"What?!" Festus protested.

Braddok pulled his sword from the sheathe and glared at the ranger before taking off for the stairs down.

Erevan was already at the top of the stairs before Braddok reached them. Duor and Alaria and Haelan raced toward the table.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Let's go! Stormriders HO!" Festus said and drew his own weapon before cantering off after the Grinlian swordsman and others.

Braddok and the rest of the party races down the steps only to pause in the middle of the kitchen.

There, standing in the doorway to the garden was the silhouette of the Lady Evaranthriine. Just behind her stood Erevan. Both stared, unmoving, out of the doorway which streamed...golden yellow daylight?...into the kitchen.

The companions edged forward and eventually they stood outside, in wonder, on the large flat patio that sat a few steps above the small, walled in, garden grounds.

Their eyes immediately went to the "sky" above them. A bright sphere of golden light floated just over the walls. Its bright sun-like light easily extinguished the starry night sky that was omnipresent in this realm.

Fen stood in the center of the intersection of paths that went from the steps to the gateway in the wall and crossed from wall to wall, leading to other paths closer to the walls. To his left and right rows of blackened leafless tree, formerly dried and cracked ponds with fountains were filled and streaming with fresh clear flowing water from fountains of cherubs and hippocampi. The formerly dark sculptures of dragons and nymphs and knights, which had been entirely pitted, eroded and shrouded in blackened dead vines, were clean and fresh looking as they were first carved.

"Fen, what have you done?" Alaria was the first to gasp. She turned back to look at Evaranthriine, afraid the mighty sorceress would smite the half-elf where he stood.

Evaranthriine simple still stood in the doorway her mouth, shockingly to Alaria, agape. Imgulg had made his way passed his lady's skirts to stand before her, tears in his eyes.

The druid made no response other than to smack the butt of his sacred spear to the ground and immediately, he was clothed in a green radiance.

The green light-clad druid walked to the left, his spear outstretched and touched the first of the black-barked skeletal trees. As the leaf-tip spear neared the outer most branch of the black-barked tree, it bent and wove and BLOSSOMED! Every last edge of branch bloomed with the pink-white blossoms of a cherry tree.

Fen, silently, moved down the side path to the southern wall, touching his spear tip to various trees and bushes as he went.

Bough after bough of cherry tree blossomed as if it were the first of spring. Hydrangea bushes, which had previously been no more than domes of dead twigs, burst into puffball blooms of blue and white. The rhododendron did the same with conical blossoms of gold and white. The fingered black veins of ivy, now shown for the brown they were in the "daylight" burst into green life and leaves as Fen passed them.

At Fen's unspoken command, with a nod of his head, bright bluebells and vibrant violet crocuses popper up out of the flowerbeds. Formerly browned bare stalks turned green, then spurted golden buds, then orange and red snapdragons.

The druid halted at the old black iron gate that led out from garden. He waved his spear in the direction of the northern wall and black trees. A cascade of green and cherry blossoms and other floral colors spread across the northern side of the central path.

The party continued to stare, wordless, in awe at the beauty unfolding before them.

Fen pushed open the old gate with one arm and thrust his spear out of it with the other. Following the druid's unsaid command, the green and growth extended out beyond the gate, sprouting green grass and small yellow buttercups popped up among the fresh new green. The "field of green" extended beyond the walls for nearly twenty feet before stopping at the cracked grey edge of the old moat/lake.

With a wave of his arm, water that continued to flow out of the cherub and hippocampi fountains, lept out of the shallow ponds and began to dribble through the grass to the dried lake bed below. At first the water merely sank into the ancient crack, then began to pool and form a small pond. the water then ceased to flow out of the garden ponds, but continued to stream out of the fountains.

Fen turned in the aged gateway arch, spear pressed to his chest and eyes closed. His eyes opened to stare straight at Evaranthriine in the tower doorway.

"This, my lady,is what the Ancient Holy Order of Mistwood is meant to do." the half-elf said in all solemnity. "I can not begin to avenge the injustice some forefather of my order did to you. But I hope this might bring you some solace."

Evaranthriine remained silent for several beats. The tears forming in her silvery star-filled eyes. One of them began to stream down her cheek as she took in all of the wondrous growth and beautiful colors and the warmth and golden color of the magical light.

A soft *tink* was heard on the stone patio beside her.

"You have begun, druid. You have begun. I find myself taught two lessons this day...from two very different peoples." she said, not looking at Fen.

The lady of the tower just stared at the flowers and the cherry blossoms floating through a calm breeze. Her ears heard the calming pat and small splashes of the fountain waters. Then, a songbird's twitter. Then a warble. Her normally unmoving face betrayed surprise as thing arched dark brows rose and sliver star-eyes widened to see a golden finch and a nightingale alight in one of the freshly blossoming trees.

Another tear *clinked* on the patio beside her. Duor was edging ever closer to her location, but Evaranthriine did not notice.

"You've come back to me. I knew there must be some left." The tears now streamed off her face freely. *Clinks* and *tings* hitting the stone platform as Evaranthriine "moved" forward out of the doorway, her attention entirely wrapped in the newly birthed garden and arriving avians.

Imgulg looked at Duor bending down to grab one of the lady's "solid tears" he frowned and shook his head side-to-side, slightly. The younger dwarf frowned back and reluctantly stood upright after grabbing only two of the precious stones.

"I have misjudged...and lament my bitterness dearly, shalok." Evaranthriine said absently in Fen's direction. "I can nay, myself, imagine a greater supplication of apology."

The druid bowed deeply toward the night-gowned woman, her dress of glittering stars now shining indigo blue in the golden magical light that covered the garden. The twinkling stars that constantly glittered along her hems and through her hair were quieted into simple silver trim, with embroidery of stars. and static pinpoints of light.

"You have my word, as an agent of the Ancient Order, lady, that no druid shall ever do wrong to you and yours again." he said.

The mirth and sarcasm of most of Fen's statements were gone, Alaria noticed. He was entirely serious. She herself was very impressed with the half-elf's amazing craft, and he hadn't done anything wrong by her.

He was giving his word, Braddok thought...not just as a "druid" but as Fen! He nodded approvingly in Fen's direction.

Haelan eagerly skipped down the steps and began sniffing this bloom and that. "You do good work for no goddess, Fen, I must say!" the halfling smiled at the half-elf.

Fen's signature crooked grin returned the daelvar's smile.

"Not much fer green stuff myself *ACHOO!*Sniff* but I must say, treehugger, ya done good this day." Duor wiped his nose with one forearm while squatting down to grab a final jeweled tear of the lady with the other.

"An' tha's a fact!" Imgulg enthusiastically agreed, not noticing Duor's palm.

Several birds now, flown from their hiding places in the forest to the "east" to see about this bright golden mini-sun, tweeted and twittered around the garden.

Erevan wandered about the garden, letting birds alight on his outstretched wrist, only for a moment before that flitted off again. He turned to look at his kiili. A broad grin slowly stretched across the druid's face as he saw the grin on the full-blooded elf's lips.

Braddok walked across the central path of the garden and clasped the druid's shoulder. "Well done, my friend." the dark-haired blue-eyed warrior smiled.

Braddok's smile faltered when he noticed movement over the druid's shoulder.

At the other end side of the long dead lake bed, several forms began to move and shamble forth out of the dense trees of the long-dead forest beyond.

"I am afraid, though. We may have other visitors." the swordsman said quietly.

Fen looked to where Braddok was staring and frowned. "Abominations." he seethed between clenched teeth.

"Indeed" replied Braddok.

"Stormriders, let's go!" the swordsman shouted in a commanding tone.

This jostled Alaria from smelling one of the low-hanging lavender wysteria blooms along the wall. Haelan jumped up from squatting among the snapdragons. Festus, not wanting to be caught unawares as before, as lovely as he found the space, lept off the stone patio and raced to Fen and Braddok.

"What? What is it?" Evaranthriine finally said, distracted from the golden finch set upon her shoulder.

"Nothing to worry about, my lady. We'll take care of it." Alaria said in passing, her staff securely in hand.

"Stay here." mentioned Erevan quietly to the raven-haired woman.

"We'll be back soon." smiled Haelan up at the lady of the tower as he raced by, hefting his curious pinecone-shaped headed mace as he went.

"Not a problem, lady. Be right back." Duor blurted as he raced by. The dwarf thief nocked a fresh dart into his hand crossbow as he ran.

Evaranthriine looked to Imgulg still on the patio just outside the kitchen door, a combination of confusion and longing on her face.

The white-bearded old dwarf grinned and nodded affirmative as he motioned with his aged gnarled hands for the lady to return to the tower.

"Let'em be heroes, milady." the dwarf said.

Evaranthriine nodded her understanding. She moved back toward the tower and watched as the companions raced down the grassy slope, around the new-formed pond, and out on the dried cracked lake bed toward the grey shambling forms that were exiting the forest in many number now.

"They art, thou ken, Imgulg." Evaranthriine said as she watched. "True heroes."

Evaranthriine stood gazing up upon the scrying "window", wreathed in the flames from the fire pit from which she'd conjured the image of what was occuring outside, in the center of the spire chamber. Her face was the the mask of stoic which she had worn...almost constantly...for so long.

Imgulg, geside her was much more animated. Muttering "oo's" and "ah's" and jabbing with his own arms as if he were one of the figure on the field of battle which the duo watched.

She saw as the poor little "daelvar Hilltender" quickly fell behind his companions in their charge to battle. Yet, with an unheard invocation of his divinity, several of the heroes blades suddenly flickered with a honey-colored light.

She saw Alaria conjure up a wide swathe of violet flames that arched up over her comrades to engulf three of the zombies. One fell immediately. The other two shambled their way forward a few steps, each, before succumbing to the magical fire.

She saw Braddok, this human swordsman so like her lost champion in so many respects, and touched by one of the Eight, no less. He raced across the long-dry lake bed, slicing zombies in twain with his sword as he went.

Everanthriine closed her eyes in sorrow, yet no tears fell. These figures which the heroes cut through had once been her responsibility. Her servants. Her ladies. Her lords. Now nothing more than mindless husks of undeath and bent on destruction.

The druid Fen's reviving of her garden, bringing daylight back to the night-clad realm was attracting them all. Yet, the druid raced forward, even as the warriors, stabbing and slashing with as much energy as he could to end the undead incursion.

Indeed, thought Evaranthriine, as he should as these souls are all on his order's soul. And yet...it was not directly this half-blood's fault...

Evaranthriine did not weep nor lament the destruction of the undead things that exited the woods in ever increasing number. They had been caught for so very long, by her fallen sister's malicious enchantments. They were finally being led to peace that she, herself, had not the where with all to grant them. Opting, instead, to hide. To linger in this tower-prison. Letting her fallen sister do with the realm, her own gifted realm, as she would.

Alaria was striking down the creatures with the electrical bursts of her staff. At one point, she opened up the field with the toss of some kind of forceful energy burst, blasting several zombified creatures around her and the elf and the halfling to the four winds. The origin of which Evaranthriine could not determine.

The satyr made significant headway, with Braddok close to his side, slicing through the onslaught of the undead creatures, a short curved blade in each hand. He jumped and leaped through their number, damaging all that he came near.

The elf had forgone the use of his bow, after a few well-placed arrows, in lieu of the slender elf-made longsword which he always had at his belt. He, too, sliced through the former-people and tainted creatures that now streamed from all directions out of the long-blackened forest.

Even that cad of a rogue dwarf was taking down creature after creature, altering between some curious small crossbow and a green-energy ensconced dagger. It was anyone's guess what he would strike with next!

Imgulg made a "hoohoo!" cheer with every abomination the younger dwarf dispatched.

Suddenly, it was there.

Evaranthriine turned her head from the view of the battle to make sure.

Yes, it was. It...she...was coming.

Alaria took a step back from the zombie-boar she had just dispatched, with a bit of help from Festus' flashing blades. The magess looked around the crowded battlefield as the satyr ranger leaped away for his next foe, a nearing zombie-buck.

"We're spreading out too much." she thought aloud. They had moved quite a distance from the edge of the light and the embankment/island on which the spire sat. Alaria realized with some concern that they were squarely in the middle of the lake bed. Nearly 40 feet from the walled garden (20 feet from the edge of the daylight) and a good 30 or 40 feet ahead of them to the edge of the black forest.

Fen was slashing and stabbing with his spear, at the vanguard with Braddok close to his side.

Erevan was far to her right, doing his best to protect Fen's right flank. Haelan was being of some assistance with his mace, flickering with its coating of honey-colored holy blessing.

Duor let off another dart from his hand crossbow, keeping himself rather "in the middle" of the rest of the companions. Out on the open dry cracked lake bed, the dwarvish rogue felt uncomfortably exposed even in the dim silvery starlight of the night sky. He saw no recourse, in the absence of trees or brush or walls or shadows, but to keep himself securely in the midst of the rest of the party.

The number of zombied men and forest creatures had definitely dwindled. Either they were succeeding in slaying everything the desolate woods had to offer or the rest of the creatures in the realm simply had not arrived, yet. It was plainly evident that they horrid beasts were drawn to the new golden day that shone over Evaranthriine's freshly restored garden.

Then, the R'Hathi magess noticed to her horror, that the daylight behind them was shedding long shadows out before them toward the trees.

Almost as soon as she thought that, a solid shadow form rose up out of the her own shadow and reached for her. She nearly tripped over herself backwards to avoid the swiping knife-like claws that stretched forward from the wholly black creature. Alaria knew, too well, the shadow's touch came not only with physical pain but the strength-sapping chill of the netherworld.

The magess uttered a command and the tip of her staff sparked with a ball of electrical crackling light, causing the shadow to shrink back from the painful light. It disappeared back into the shadow from which it had emerged, which was quickly diminished in the new light source.

A cry of pain from behind her, Duor for sure, let her know that the dwarf was also facing one of the shadowy undead.

"Ack! Dammit. Haelan! Them shadows're here! Do yer holy-light thing!" the dwarf called across the field as he ripped his dagger from its sheathe and slashed at the assaulting undead. He missed, but did give the shadow pause and himself a bit of breathing room.

The halfling was quick to pull his pinecone-shaped amulet from beneath his pine-green tunic and begin to invoke his goddess to "cast out the shadows of evil from Her holy presence."

A shadow again rose from one of several Alaria was now casting off, from the light behind her as well as the light in front from her staff.

"Behind you!" called Erevan as he pulled his slender longsword from the dead lump of a zombie-bear he'd finally put down.

Alaria swung with her staff at the shadow before her, not making contact, but still whirled around to see another of the creatures had risen out of a shadow behind her and was reaching forward with its sharp wisps of fingers.

Then there was a flash of green and Alaria saw the point of Duor's dagger, very near the edge of her face, sticking straight out of the "chest" of the shadow that existed for only a moment more.

With a shrill shriek and trailing hiss, the shadow dispersed before her eyes into fading ribbons of blackness. Duor stood before her, formerly behind the shadow with a smug grin on his bearded face. "Who needs a cleric? HaHA!"

By the end of that sentence, Alaria and Duor found themselves in a ring of three shadows, all reaching forward for the trapped adventurers.

Alaria's mind raced for a spell but before she could pick one, she, Duor and the shades were bathed in a burst of golden light and the scent of summer breezes and pine trees. Again, the creatures shrieked and hissed as they faded from existence. their "arms" thrown up as if to protect themselves from the radiant energy that, literally, ripped them to shreds.

As the light faded, her eyes came to rest on the daelvar Hilltender (now standing in the midst of the companions, where Duor had been). He wore his big bright smile and nodded to the magess and dwarf before again hefting his mace and beginning to run up to Braddok and Fen, and now Festus', position.

Braddok had hacked his...fifth? Sixth? zombie into multiple pieces. Sending his blade into the still reaching crawling decayed creature's skull with an audible *CHOK*. The swordsman had lost count of how many of the creatures he'd slain. But a cursory glance around the field revealed to him that there were no other mottled flesh or half skeletal creatures moving around them.

His blue eyes went to movement at the forest's edge. He raised his blade in preparation of another wave before he noticed is was a singular movement. A singular large movement, just within the trees.

Then the shambling roughly humanoid of the plant monster stepped, with seeming caution, out of the treeline into the open air of the lake bed. It bellowed through the open "mouth" of leaves and mud and twigs. Its "eyes" were squarely on the source of the golden day light.

"Uh. Haelan? Your friend has arrived." Braddok called over his shoulder, unwilling to take his eyes off the plant-creature after his less than effective combat with it when they had arrived in this realm of unending night.

"INSKUEL!" Haelan called across the field. He raced on blond-topped bare feet to get to reach where Braddok, Festus and Fen waited with weapons pointed at the large inhuman monster.

The creature stopped its bellowing and its attention seemed drawn to the halfling at the mention of his name. It slouched a bit and rose its "arms" in what might have seemed like a defensive or protective maneuver.

"Do not harm him." Fen shouted to his companions. "And no lightning!" he added over his shoulder, obviously meant for Alaria.

"Don't worry, Inskuel. Yes. Yes we know who you are. I'm going to help you. We're going to help you." Haelan called, stopping about 30 feet from the creature and closing his eyes to begin the powerful invocation that he had never attempted, nor any like it.

"You must keep me from harm." he said more quietly to the surrounding warriors. "This will require a bit of time and a LOT of concentration. I can not be disturbed. But also, he can not be allowed to leave." with that, seemingly contradictory, statement Haelan stuck the butt of his mace into the dry cracked ground and closed his eyes. His lips began murmuring some unheard prayer almost immediately.

*Stormriders* Everanthriine's voice was heard within all of the companions' minds. *She is coming. You must return to the tower.* then there was a mental gasp and softly, apparently unintended for the "thoughts" of the party, the word *Inskuel?* accompanied by a crushing sense to all of sadness, longing, remorse.

"She is not coming, dear sister. She is HERE!" a cracked harsh unseen voice from above came to the ears of the party.

Even as Alaria began to hear words of power she did not know, a ball of flame appeared high in the air to their south/left, for only a moment before the form of the demon-horse and its black-robed rider shimmered into view. The horse "stood" about twenty feet in the air, the ball of flame grew in size in the poised hand of the rider.

Now so close, the party could see the rider for what she was. Alaria gasped to herself.

'Eeeeew," Duor muttered aloud.

Having met the "pure as the driven snow" white lady, Amthyriine and the darkly beautiful, if stoic, Evaranthriine, it had been assumed their middle sister would also shine with a grace and otherworldly beauty of some kind, in flowing gown or skirts of fine material....maybe bathed in or trimmed in smoke or, based on their initial encounter, fire.

None of the party expected to see the horrid, wart and boil covered face of leathery violet skin. Not the large hooked nose or sharp fang-filled mouth, the steely grey hair that whipped and flowed up above her head, nor the tattered black robes flowing in streams, like ribbons, in some unnoticed wind.

"Haelan!" Alaria shouted.

The Hilltender was already chanting frantically, thankful to his goddesses, beyond thanks, that he had not yet begun the long ritual to remove the curse from Inskuel.

"Deisa Faerantha, benifica spiritumas con u guda..." Haelan incanted as fast as he could while maintaining his connection to the Hill Mother.

The ball of fire shot forth from the hag's hand and roared toward to the band.

Even as Haelan's voice rose in her ears to a fevered pitch, "...Y TIEM PARAS!" <cleric spell: Resist Fire> the thoughts came to Alaria.

This is it. They would perish here...in a ball of flame...burned to nothing like the persecuted sorcerers of old...in this dead place, not even on their own world...No one would know what became of her.

Her eyes closed instinctively and she raised her arms as if to protect herself from the pain she expected in that second. The burst of heat was incredible. The force of the fireball spell threw her to the ground. It was hot. So hot. The flames roared and crackled in her ears to a point she thought she'd go deaf..but...

Alaria opened her eyes. She was not burning. The furious glare of the flames bursting all around her forced her to close them again. But, she did not feel like she was burning. Maybe she was already dead?

A moment later. The roaring of the flames stopped and the golden glare behind her eyes was gone.

She opened her eyes once more and looked around in absolute disbelief. Smoke was wisping off her garments and the ground around her, but...

There was a patch of blackened earth here and there that had flames upon it. The rest of a broad swathe of the grey cracked lake bed was entirely blackened. The streaking marks of the outer edge of the burst stretched out some ten or more feet before her.

She turned her head to see who of her companions had been hit. They were all on the ground, even as she. Peeking slowly from behind shields and arms placed over their heads. Fen rose from a crouch behind his druid's cloak which also smoked but did not appear to be burned. he began to race toward where Erevan lay prone, obviously also thrown by the force of the blast.

All except Haelan. The cleric still stood, arms to the heavens, and glimmered momentarily with a reddish light before it flickered and extinguished.

Unbelievable. Alaria thought.

"Unbelievable." Duor said aloud. "The hairfoot's n'er gonna let me live this'un down." he said before rising and helping Alaria to her feet.

A maniacal cackle filled the air from Madagbueil. "Well done, champions. Well done, indeed. This should prove most entertaining. Wouldn't you agree, sister. KAHAHAHA!"

Evaranthriine scowled at the creature that had once been her sister. She stood, now visible to all as a dark silhouette of flowing black hair and twinkling stars upon a narrow ledge behind the wall of the garden.

"This need not be, Madagbueil. Let the heroes help you. They can do it." the voice of the night-clad sorceress filled the open air.

"Nonsense. I've taken one champion from you. I can certainly deal with this haggard band of mortals. Though," Madagbueill returned her attention to the party, "I am impressed, I must say."

"Now," Haelan whispered to Braddok, who was on his feet and wondering how he was going to fight this evil witch floating twenty feet in the air. "Cover me. I can not be disturbed again."

"Beast, take them." Madagbueil shouted down at the hunched vegetative creature, who thankfully she had not included in her would-be deadly fireball.

The creature made a growling rumble in the direction of the tainted sister.

"You dare speak back to me?! You miserable heap of so much rot. You have no purpose but to serve me. Destroy them!" she commanded.

The shambling mound looked toward the party and its shoulders, if it had shoulders, seemed to slump a bit as it began to shamble slowly forward.

Two bolts of blue-green energy flared up to the wicked rider hovering in midair. One struck the black horse with flaming hooves and mane with an apparent lack of any effect. The other struck Madagbueil herself. Again, the energy seemed to simply burst upon her without effect.

The completely unphased hag looked down at the outstretched arm of the grey-haired elf even as the green cloaked one helped him to his feet.

"HAAAAHAHAHAAH" the witch again cackled. "So it's a wizard's duel ye would like. Good. Everx zaar!" she cried and pointed outstretched fingers down at the party.

Four bolts of silver-while evergy flew from the clawed fingertips. Two struck Erevan squarely in the chest, sending the elf flying back to the ground again. The other two struck the green cloak.

Fen's enchanted cloaked offered a bit of protection from the eldritch energy, but he still felt the pain. He looked down in concern to see Erevan unconscious. The small blackened bursts of the energy bolts still smoking on his violet leather jerkin. A bit of blood was trickling from his mouth.

Fen immediately knelt beside his kiili and began casting his only healing magic...his only remaining spell, at all. The regeneration of Evaranthriine's garden had spent nearly all of his energy for the day.

The druid's hands were surrounded by the soft spring green pulse of his spell and he mentally fought with the fading energy of Erevan's body that the curative spell allowed the druid, much to his displeasure, to sense. He had to pull it back, make it grow, just as he had done the garden.

"Grow, killi, you must grow!"

For every "where", every point of energy, he mentally patched, another seemed to open and flow. Fen furiously directed the healing energies as best he could, it was a battle he was unwilling to yield. The noise and bangs and cries of the rest of the battlefield fell from his ears. His attention was completely consumed.

"Aw." mocked Madagbueil. "One fallen, already? I had such hopes for a proper challenge. AAAAGH!" the hag's mocking trailed off in a cry of legitimate pain as she and her mount were washed in a waved of crackling electrical energy. When the onslaught had passed she looked down to the woman holding the still sparking staff and looking at her in a fury that might very well match her own.

"If it's a wizard's duel you want, Madagbueil, then I suggest you put your power to the test of an actual wizard!" Alaria called up in defiance.

"You'll pay for that little sorceress." Madagbueil seethed through pointed clenched teeth. All mockery or amusement was gone from the hag's tone. Her large black eyes glared down at Alaria. "No mortal's toy can defeat the true power of the Dark One at Madagbueil's command!"

The witch threw up her arms and incanted another spell which Alaria could not fully hear nor understand.

The ground all around the party began to rumble.

"Nice job, boss lady." prodded Duor from Alaria's side. "Make the crazy super-witch on the demon-horse mad. Great tactic." The dwarf fired off another of his small crossbow bolts, but this carried a little something extra.

To the tip of this dart, as a few others Duor had prepared some time ago, was tied a small shard of firestone which he had taken from their adventure in Shafton. The chips of explosive crystal had been a "gift" from the dwarf brothers...that they didn't know about. But Duor couldn't see the harm in a few missing shards. They had saved the whole mine and town, after all.

The well placed dart landed, as Duor had hoped it would, with exacting accuracy in the snout of the nightmare which periodically was expelling flickers of flame and smoke as it waited for command from its rider. The demon-horse's head flew up and it reared in the air, completely catching its rider off guard.

Duor watched in anticipation...Just another moment. the dwarf hoped silently.

Just as the bolt struck, the ground before the magess and rogue burst open from a huge arm striking out from it. It was black and gleamed like metal in the twinkling starlight. At the end was a single large claw-like hook. What came after was even more cause for the two challengers to back up more than a few steps.

Another arm, similarly ending in a great hook-claw burst form the ground and pulled the hulking black armored body of the creature from the ground. It had a snapping beak like a turtle or vulture at the end of its inhuman head. Large clawed feet stepped out of the great hole from which it rose and lifting both hooks and it's beaked maw to the heavens it let out a frightful shriek. The thing was easily seven or eight feet tall.

"By the Forge! Ok, fun's fun, Alaria. But it's time for a, uh, strategic retreat." Duor called over the creature's loud shrieking roar.

Alaria looked frantically around the field. Two other of the hook-handed creatures were rising, in similar fashion from the dead lake bed. One near where Braddok and Festus had engaged the shambler-Inskuel and another not far from where an oblivous Fen still knelt over Erevan's body.

Haelan seemed lost in some trance...Alaria assumed to help the cursed Swan Knight.

"Alaria! Need a little help here!" called Festus as he jumped over a swiping vine from the shambler's halfhearted attack.

"We're not going anywhere, Duor. Your distraction was well timed. You keep it busy, while I draw the witch's attention."

"You want more of her attention!?!" Duor said in disbelief.

His disbelief went unanswered as his own attention turned back to their immediate foe just in time to let him dive and tumble away from the magess to avoid a thundering blow of the monster's giant hook into the ground where he had, moments before, been standing.

Alaria raced away from the hooked horror toward Festus and Braddok.

"Yeah. Great. NO PROBLEM! Really. You go ahead." called Duor after the magess as he tucked and rolled, again, away from a another swipe of a massive hook. Least the thing seemed to be a bit slow due to its lumbering size.