Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"

Awesome!

Thanks, SD, have a terrific weekend!

There was little Alaria remembered about fear. She had been afraid when they had first met the thugs on the streets of Hawkview. But she had overcome it. She had been afraid of the goblins that had ambushed them. That fear was almost nothing compared to what she'd feared from the giant crabs on the boat en route to Dragonbone Isle. The crab demon had been a shock, but not really a fear to compare with watching Haelan carried off by a harpy. The were rats had been a scare because of their unnatural nature. The trolls outside of the Feldmere were a concern more than a fear. But they'd conquered all of those.

The toothy maw of the piercer lunging for her was a memory she yet encountered in troubled dream. The "rock of death" was awful, but easily enough overcome. The battle with the ghouls in Shafton was a battle to live on in legend and song. The dark wizard, Tresahd, who she was now certain was a dragon was a foe she wished not to face again ever in her lifetime. The night hag in the Gorathgraard dimension of night and the demons in Tresahd's stronghold had filled her with apprehension and questioning their survival.

But this...this Bulgruch...this was something she had never dared to imagine was a creature she would ever face. It was only 50 yards away. A complete horror filled her being.

"Haelan, elf-priest. Make your invocation of protection. NOW!" Alaria shouted in evident panic as the great wolf-demon began the very few strides toward them.

“Deisa Faerantha, ep localis sanctum a spiritaii.” <spell: Sanctuary. “Holy Faerantha, let this place be a sanctuary to your devoted follower.”> Haelan immediately invoked even as he watched the great beast pounce toward him.

"Suprima Matra, Arinane, ep localis sanctum a spiritaii." <spell: Sanctuay. "Great Mother, Arinane, let this place be a sanctuary to your devoted follower."> intoned Cyrillian.

The two clerics, positioned before the rest of the party, almost simultaneously, had a circle of silver light surround their position. The Bulgruch came to land upon the mystical barrier in a great burst of silvery sparks.

It recovered immediately, shook its head and growled at the assembled heroes. I began topaw itself slowly to the left...the clerics could not move their holy spaces to match him.

"Abomination! You shall assault the Green no longer!" cried Fen and began to incant a powerful spell.

"Shall I not, tree priest? I beg to differ." the Bulgruch growled back. Gaging his position to be around the elf-priest's protection lunged forward again to be halted, half of him at least, pushed aside from a bruch with the invisible barrier in a silvery spray of light.

"Stay behind us, Braddok. We will take care of this." Alaria said, and without a second thought, loosed a lightning bolt from her staff.

The electrical streak shot forth, sending a rolling rumble of thunder behind it. This struck the demon-wolf and threw it a few feet to the side. Fen continued to chant under his breath.

"Ahhhh. So you are the magess, eh?" the beast growled at Alaria. It shook its head back and forth, as if to reorient itself.

*Kandu. I need to see. You showed me things before. Can you be my eyes now?* Braddok thought, desperately, toward his sword.

*Kandu can, warrior. But this evil is greater than my power alone can subdue. Open your mind to my...uh...eyes* the sword replied.

A hazy image framed in blue came into Braddok's mind. It was as if he were there...but not there...he saw the huge wolf creature leap toward...ALARIA! As if by instinct more than thought, Braddok swung his enchanted blade.

It caught the beast in the neck. And forced its reaching claws to fall just before the edges of Alaria's robes.

The magess looked at the blinded warrior is utter surprise.

"HYAHHHH!" came Duor's eloquent battle cry as the shadow-shrouded dwarven rogue leapt up to sink his green-ethereal-flamed dagger into the monster's side.

The Bulgruch bellowed. These heroes were, indeed, the threat he'd been told of. Their weapons bit into him where no other mortals encountered had been able to pierce his supernatural coat.

Suddenly, there was another pain, deep in its back...from above. Pyrnion's axe sank into the creature with a mighty force.

The Bulgruch did a complete flip coming to land back on his legs. The dwarf, the warrior and the winged thing were all thrown from it. The magess still stood, fear obvious on her face. She would be easy prey. It would engulf her and send her to the planes of the Abyss. But it couldn't...Tresahd wanted her, for...something.

The magess completed the obscure phrase and the Bulgruch found itself covered in luminescent strands of webbing. Nonsense...this "magic" of the mortals. It began to pull itself free, with obvious ease.

As it pulled itself free and reached again for this magess, scalding hot steam filled its eyes.

"Noh hhhurtsss mihhhssstrisss! Bahd Buhhhlgruhhh" Meeessh shouted in defiance.

"Insolent IMP!" the Bulgruch shouted in return as it swiped up through the air, through the mephit, disipating him like swiping its claws through a cloud of smoke.

"MEEEEEEEEESSSSSsssssshhhhhhhh" the mephit's "dying" cry hissed through the field as he disappeared from view.

Alaria again commanded the Staff of Azanna to loose a lightning bolt, even as she saw her companions recover from begin thrown off the creature.

The lightning struck, to be sure, but it did not seem to stay the monster at all. In fact, a wicked grimace showed on its face.

*TANNNNNGGGGG*

The Bulgruch shook his head, as the clanging reverberation of the metal edge of the shield bounced off its head. It looked to its left to see the daelvar cleric reclaim its small round shield as it returned to his waiting grasp.

"You'll be next, lil' priest." the Bulgruch growled.

"You'll not have a FIRST!" Braddok cried as he brought Kandu down, with both hands, upon the monster's neck.

The enchanted blade bit into its hide. The sword's enchantments burned. The Bulgruch knew he could not suffer many more blow like that.

"Groooooosssssssssssuht!" it growl and the globe of darkness encased the whole of the battle. Its prey, it knew would be utterly blinded. Its demonic magic was not easily put aside. The magess, outlined in white to the demon-wolf-goblin's sight, was evidently surprised by the sudden darkness. Severring her head from her shoulders would be a single easy swipe.

"I can't see it" cried Pyrnion from above the globe of blackness. "Who's gotta a shot?"

"Blind as a bat here!" Duor's voice came from...somewhere.

Alaria felt the sweat on her forehead...she was completely blind. The monster was not 20 feet in front of her...or was...the thought of hard deadly claws raking into her flesh at any moment filled her with terror. She sank to the ground. Maybe it wouldn't know she was shorter than she was. The magic...the magic was her only hope...as she had always held it in her heart...she had to steady her mind...find the words of power...find the words...the creature's hot breath was felt through the unnatrual darkness...

"Theran...arkana rebismio THERAN!" Alaria shouted. <mage spell: Dispel Magic> The magic flowed through her...the intoxicating ecstasy of power flowed through her. This tier of magic was something she had not dreamt.

Suddenly the blackness disappeared. The slight light of predawn was practically blinding for the party, let alone the dark-sensitive Bulgruch. It let forth a painful howl as the ever so slight light struck its abyssaleyes unexpectantly.

"Get it!" Cried Duor. The dwarf lunged at the creature even as Fen's voice rose in the unperceivable tongue of druids.

The half-elf through his hands to the skies above him...which none had noticed had turned the deep dark grey of storm clouds. With a single swift gesture pointing at the Bulgruch, a rumble of thunder went up from the sky and a streak of almsot green lightning surged down from the sky, turning not 5 feet from Fen's head and slamming into the side of the Bulgruch.

The blow sent the beast reeling to the side. Only Duor's deft reflexes saved him from benig crushed beneath bristled demon-wolf.

"EH! Lil' warnin' next time, tree-hugger!" Duor protested to the druid.

The half-elf's eyes were filled with green light. If he heard the dwarf's protestation, there was no evidence of it.

Pyrnion had again taken flight and, following the lightinging strike dove in to hack again at the beast's back.

It howled in pain and roared at its surroundings.

Braddok, through the mystic gaze of his sword, took up a position between the Bulgruch and Alaria. "It shall not touch you while I draw breath." the swordsman proclaimed for all to hear.

"Nor you my valiant love." Alaria returned.

"Aw, c'mon! Really, you two?!" Duor grumbled under his breath. "Just KILL IT!"

"Suprima Matra, Arinane..." Cyrillian began began again but never finished.

The Bulgruch's impossibly opened maw lunged up and over the elfin priest. In a single smooth movement Cyrillian, the moon-priest, was engulfed in the creature's mouth and disappeared with a shriek of terror.

In a simultaneous movement it grabbed Haelan and crushed the daelvar in its massive grip.

Alaria was stiken with the horror of seeing terror upon an elfin face for the second time that night...she hoped never to see suchan expression again.

"DIE MONSTER!" Pyrnion cried as he dove down into the monster's face and hacked at the side of its face. The swing missed by less than an inch.

It tossed the daelvar tens of feet away and the small body bounced and rolled several tens of feet more.

"HAELAN!" Alaria cried in abject concern.

The Bulgruch clamped its jaws around the winged man in mid-flight. Pyrnion brought his axe down upon the monster's snout. It cut badly, but did not release the zepharim.

Another direction of Fen's arm brought another bolt of lightning slamming down from the sky into the wolf-beast. Pyrnion cried out in pain as the electrical energy danced around the two creatures. One of a heritage of immotal light and one of immortal darkness. Both were wracked in pain.

The Bulgruch, spasming, released the winged-humanoid. Pyrnion fell to the ground at the demon-wolf's feet.

Alaria backed it up with a lightning bolt of her own for good measure and the whole of the company saw the Bulgruch falter from the blow of magical energy.

"I will not be brought down by such as you." the Bulgruch protested, struggling to regain its footing in defiance.

"I think yeh might." said Duor throwing his ethereal dagger into the beast's side, not daring to make a strike in person should one of these lightning-happy spellcasters be throwing any more at him.

It proved a wise choice as, not a moment later, another bolt from Fen found its mark.

Braddok surged forward and took another overhanded strike at the beast's neck...nearly severring it.

The massive wolf-goblin-demon form fell to the ground with an audible thud.

Braddok hacked at it again...and again. The third strike removed the beast's head.

*It is done.* came Kandu's voice to Braddok's mind again even as the mystical sight withdrew from Braddok's perception, leaving him again in an unconcerting darkness.

Alaria turned to see the elfin forces, who none had realized were watching the battle from a distance looking at the collected heroes in disbelief.

"The Bulgruch is fallen!" she proclaimed out over the field.

A cheer went up across the field even as the first pinkish orange rays of dawn broke the tree tops. Followed by the chanting cheers of the "N'cynbiiri Hallae! N'cynbiiri Hallae! N'cynbiiri Hallae!" <literally from the elvin: "Champions of the Storm">

Alaria grasped Braddok tightly around the neck. "We've won! The Bulgruch is no more." she said.

"Do you hear that?" She said with a tear in her eye, whether the joy of triumph or the overwhelming relief of the fear leaving her, she neither knew nor cared.

"I still can't see." Braddik said quietly even as he smiled with the chants rushing over him and the close, reassuring touch of Alaria.

"Yes, I know. We'll fix it. Haelan will fix it." she smiled through her tears, listening to the elfin adulation.

"Haelan, do you hear that?" Alaria looked with a smile to where she'd last seen the daelvar. A small lump still lay there.

"Haelan?"

Haelan sat, legs outstretched, looking out over the Dale on the warming summer evening. A permanent grin on his face as he closed his eyes to allow the twilight breeze to caress his face. The wind brought with it a fragrant waft of wildflowers and pine trees.

He tilted his head back and opened his eyes to gaze up into the broad branches spreading over him, like a great green-furred umbrella. His eyes caught sight of a flitting blue-spot butterfly passing by. He followed the elegant creature's looping trail until it came to rest on the outstretched finger.

Haelan started. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone else was here."

Haelan felt himself begin to blush, despite himself. The female daelvar was beautiful with rosy apples of cheeks, rich full lips and a head of flaming auburn curls contained within a ring of bright yellow and blue flowers and large white daisies. Her dress was a simple shift of white cotton, but intricately embroidered along the hems with incredibly intricate patterns of leaves, vines and budding flowers, again of blue and yellow.

"I...uh...I'm Haelan Spurthistle. I don't recall seeing you 'round these parts before..." the daelvar priest offered as he watched, with some surprise as a chipmunk came bounding up to the woman and jumped into her lap where it curled itself up in obvious rest. All around the woman the ground was sprinkled with daisies and buttercups, as Haelan now noticed, was most of the slow sloping hill upon which they sat.

"I know who you are, Hilltender. You have achieved great things in Faerantha's name. All in a few short months since you've 'ventured beyond here," the woman stretched out her arm to indicate the quiet lazy dale stretched out before them. "More than most Hilltenders ever do in their lifetimes. You are truly blessed to have made such diverse folk your friends. Together you may achieve great things, all while maintaining and honoring the spirit of your own kind. It is truly a thing of beauty." The woman paused a moment to receive a chirping bluebird on her finger. She let the bird chirp for a few moments and then said...to the bird?!..."Yes, of course." The bluebird flew off and the woman turned to look, directly at Haelan.

The Hilltender met her large pale green eyes and felt himself filled with a falling sensation...no...rolling down a soft grassy slope. It was a feeling of pure comfort and safety and oneness with the grass, the flowers...the hill! Haelan's eyes darted to the ground and, if he hadn't already been lounging, he would have dropped to his knees.

"Apologies my Lady! Are...are you...you are Faerantha?! Am I...I mean, is this...Am I dead?" Haelan fumbled all over himself, desiring beyond anything to sound reverent.

The female daelvar placed her fingers to her bright cherry red lips and twittered a little giggle. "Me?...Faerantha?!" she giggled some more. "Certainly not, I'm far too pretty. Don't you think, Hilltender?" she leaned forward slightly and batted her long auburn eyelashes the tips of which sparkled with almost imperceptible points of light, like diamonds.

Haelan's mouth went dry and he stammered over himself several times to get out a discernible "Yes, very." before reality dawned on him. "You are Jepsabelle! The Morning Dew! Holy daughter of the Spring, beauty and love!"

Jepsabelle smirked at the hill-priest's realization.

"Forgive a poor servant's foolishness, lady. I am mortal after all and can not help but mistake one goddess for another." Haelan quickly offered by way of explanation.

At this the bluebird, which had been watching from one of the lowest branches again twittered, with some insistance. Jepsabelle took notice and seemed a bit annoyed. "Yes. Yes."

Then, she rose and moved to the still bowed daelvar. She placed her fingertips beneath his chin and lifted it until he faced her.

"Hilltender Haelan Spurthistle, your time is not now. As I said, you have many great things that may yet bring further glory to your beloved gods."

"I am the Holy Family's humble servant, lady. Anything you wish is mine to attend." Haelan responded with complete veneration.

"You are doing just fine on your own, so far." Jepsabelle smiled softly. "Follow your heart, kind one, and at all times protect the stone, Haelan. It is very important and he must not get it." She let go of Haelan's chin and staightened, seeming...somehow...in an instance to tower over him, growing to the height of the great tree under which they had sat...and eventually seeming to take up the whole sky as yellow, blue and white wildflowers sprouted from everywhere all around him until all he could see were flowers and her giant pale green eyes.

*Awaken.* came the goddess of spring's final word to Haelan's mind.

Haelan's eyes shot open as he spurted and nearly choked on the pink fluid that was being shoved into his mouth.

"MORE! He needs more potion yeh daft druid. Giv'im MORE!" came Duor's voice to Haelan's ears even before his vision cleared to see the dwarf trying to grab the potion vial from the half-elf druid. The magess and warrior stood over/behind them with expressions of severe worry on their faces.

"He's awake!" Alaria burst.

"There. See. Told yeh. Just leave it to the dwarf..." proudly burst Duor.

Fen ignored the rogue and smiled calmly at Haelan. "Be still, Haelan. You had quite a jolt. Gave us quite a scare. Let the potion and my limited talents for healing magic do their work. Gently now..." Fen aided the Hilltender to his shaky feet. "We should get him back to camp so he can rest."

"I...I'm fine, Fen. But thank you. I think I might not be here now without your aid." Halean looked around and smiled weakly at his companions. His gaze finally came to est on the huge mound of black and grey fur and the wolfish head a few feet separate. "So...we won then? We killed a demon?!"

this brought laughter from a few of the companions. "We did, indeed, Hilltender." Braddok answered.

Halean winced as Alaria knelt to give the Hilltender a slightly-too-tight hug.

"Don't scare me like that again, Haelan." the magess said.

Haelan chuckled slightly. "I'll do my best not to. But, oh Alaria, where I went...what I saw!...it was so beautiful...the goddess of beauty, in fact. It was amazing. You see..."

Alaria smiled and nodded as the Hilltender struck off on a detailed and rambling rail of his "vision" while the party was scrambling to keep him from dying.

"Yes, he's going to be fine." Alaria thought to herself as the party collected themselves and slowly made their way back to the elvin camp.

Great battle!

The scene with Haelan and the goddess was nicely done. I really enjoy that in a story hour, adding depth to the characters and the world beyond the action of combat. You do an excellent job with your imagery SD, thanks for another great installment!

The group rested in the large open pavillion tent with the elvish captains, toasted with exquisite wine and enjoying a light break fast of fruits and some deer-milk cheese.

Duor was thoroughly disgusted at the lack of meat or ale until one of a nearby group of satyrs caught his eye. With a wink and a smirk, he waved the dwarf over to their circle. The satyrs were similarly reveling in the recent news that the Bulgruch had been defeated and the evil goblinoid forces were in a complete disarray of retreat. Duor slipped away without incident and joined the goat-men and, more importantly, their burning amber-colored liquor which the satyr’s referred to as “rye.” It was similar, Duor noted, to dwarven whiskey, but had a slightly more flowery tint to it. Between that and the haunch of roasted hare he was given, Duor decided once and for all that feasting with satyrs was infinitely preferable to feasting with elves.

Alaria noted, without comment, as the dwarf joined the satyrs not far from the pavilion. A wave of melancholy passed over her as her thoughts turned to the fallen Festus and then , immediately, to the fallen Erevan. If they had come here to aid this cause as he had argued...but she could not torture herself so. They had played a substantial role in the saving of his homeland and the defense of his people. Alaria hoped to herself that, wherever it was elvish spirits flew <DM’s note: There is no “popular opinion” on the matter. The elves, themselves were notoriously tight-lipped about their conceptions of “death” and “afterlife.”> Erevan would know and be proud of his friends’ efforts.

Haelan and Fen arrived somewhat after the others had begun their revery, having tended Pirnyon, as best they could in their spell-depleted state, in the healing tents. The zepharim had sustained a terrible amount of damage from the Bulgruch’s jaws and Fen’s lightning bolt. Nearly the entire left side of his body, and both wings were bandaged heavily.

The druid had made a somewhat stoic apology, recognizing it as “unfortunate” but justifying that the “unnatural abomination could not have been allowed to survive...whatever the cost.”

Pyrnion did not dispute the fact, but shared that he had no great desire to again join the half-elf on the field of battle ever again. He also posited that with the war seemingly finished, he would be recalled to the aerie of his master, the Wind Wizard, far to the south.

“Oh I hope not!” Haelan had said in all sincerity. “We’ve only just met. You can’t go flying off over one liiil’ lightning bolt! ’Sides, you helped us defeat the Bulgruch, you’re an honorary ‘Stormrider’ now!”

“Haelan, that may be a subject to take up with the others..." Fen tried to interject.

“Nonsense! Alaria will agree for sure!" Haelan smiled in his infectious broad way at the seriously wounded zephari.

Pyrnion’s nodded dumbly in response, looked to the sky with his single un-bandaged eye and murmured something in some language that sounded akin to elvish but neither Haelan nor Fen could make out.

Upon rejoining Alaria and Braddok at the main tent, Haelan was pleasantly surprised to find that his prayer to restore Braddok’s vision actually worked <DM’s perogative >! Buttercreamshadowfeet found the halfling and nuzzled up around him. She remarked through a wide yawn, *Mid-morning is no time for a revery. I don’t know how these elves do it. Wake me when we’re leaving.*

So the Magess, the swordsman, the Hilltender and the druid passed a relatively subdued hour or so ‘celebrating’ their success before realizing that they too had been through the entire night and, other than a brief rest, the entire day before. Without worrying where the dwarf had gotten to, the four heroes retired for some much deserved and needed sleep.

Toward the late afternoon, they rose and again met under a smaller, more private open tented pavilion. Much of the elvin army had seemed to disappear into the woods while they’d slept. Only the commanders’ pavilion and one or two other tents remained. Satyrs with great bundles thrown over their shoulders skipped and cantered away into the woods, led by one less burdened who tweeted out a jaunty tune on his multi-reeded pipe.

The Stormriders watched from afar as a small group of centaurs, many bandaged and showing minor wounds, made their farewells to the elf captains. As they turned to leave, the lead centaur caught the eye of Alaria and Braddok.

The hulking burly hairy-chested and faced horse-man placed a palm over his left pectoral and bowed his head at the magess and swordsman. The two humans nodded their heads in a silent acknowledgement and the centaur leader turned and broke into a gallop to lead his men back to their tribal territory, their hyrd’s lands.

Alaria, Braddok, Haelan, Fen and a greatly improved (due to another battery of magical healing) though still bandaged Pyrnion came and sat upon the low seats and pillow around a low round table. An elf soldier brought, unbidden, a tray of fruits, nuts and cheese, another of some salted fish and large decanters of the fantastic golden elfvine. Alaria asked the server he had seen and/or could track down their dwarvish companion.

The elf appeared, as most the elves they’d seen, no older than Erevan had been. He grinned and nodded. “Anything the Champions of the Storm require, we gladly provide.” <translated from Miralostae> the coppery headed elf answered.

Shortly thereafter, Duor came staggering out of a nearby cluster of trees, arm-in-arm with the russet-haired and goateed satyr with an orangey patch of fuzz on his chest, the one who had invited the dwarf to drnk. As to who was holding up whom, none of the companions could say. They wove their booted and hoofed way up to the pavilion...as they finished some song. Again, who was leading whom in the song was equally indeterminable.

“...an’ th’morrrrrnin’ came-a storrrrrmin’,
an’ th’ *hic* storrrrm[in]-ridershhh came-a courrrrtin’,
annnnn’ th’Buh*URP* a-Bulll*hic* grussshhhh
can bite muh arrrrrrrssssshhhhhhh!”

Duor guffawed and smacked the satyr on the back, which nearly sent the goat-man to his knees. He all but dragged the satyr with him up to table with him attempting to introduce and praise him as they came.

“THISH! D’yeh hear me? That izz GENE-USH! HE wrote that! HIM! Thishguy. Can yeh b’lieve it! Wode’it ferm SCRATCH! AMAYshin’, this guy!” Duor slurred at the top of his lungs.

“Thish..." the dwarf's face scrunched up in a way that all the companions were waitign for the inevitable spew. Fortunately, it didn‘t come.

“*HIC* THISH! Thishizzzz...” Duor squinted very closely at the smikey bleery-eyed satyr. “THISH..iz...JOH...BIAS...He’s wifme.”

Turning his attention to the companions, in an attempt to complete the introductions, “An’ thish izzz...” Duor blinked and swayed, staring at the dark-haired swordsman. The dwarf managed to get out a single, world-class* BURRRRRP!* before slamming, face down on the softly pillowed floor.

The satyr laughed loudly and casually sat himself on the back of Duor, as if it were the most natural chair in the world. He crossed his goat legs.

“I’m Jovias, actually. Duor mishpronounshd m’name.” he giggled uncontrollably for a few seconds before falling over backwards, his legs still resting atop/over the dwarf and similarly lost consciousness.

As the companions looked to each other in disbelief and questions, the surrounding glade erupted in the loudest ugliest snores any of them had ever heard.

“Well,” said Braddok with a smirk, “what do we do now?”

The companions began their deliberation without the dwarven rogue. Braddok opened.

“It is my belief, that if we hope to completely undo the schemes of Tresahd, we should return to Nor Gorthok as soon as possible. His armies here are scattered to the winds. Before they regroup within the Feldmere, we should go ruin their rallying point.

"Also, Tresahd himself made no move in this latest conflict. His lieutenant, or general or whatever the Bulgruch was, is gone. If we press in a timely fashion, I believe our chances of success are much improved and we could finish this business and move to the matters in the west.”

“But...well, he’s still got that horrid behir...and the wights” Haelan said softly, shuddering visibly at the mention of the wights. “Not to mention the army of hobgoblins we saw there...and MORE demons! What are we supposed to do about MORE demons!?”

Buttercreamshadowfeet came hopping up to the pavilion and sniffed about the table and the food thereon.

*What‘s all the hubbub now!* the ferret‘s feminine voice came to Haelan’s ears. *OO fish!* the ferret grabbed a large whole salted fish from the table.

“Braddok wants us to go back to Nor Gorthok and finish tresahd once and for all.” Haelan explained.

*Munch. Munch. Buh! ECK! Why is it sooo salty. Stupid elves can’t even prepare a proper fish! Wait...what!? Go BACK?! These humans are as stupid as they are mad.*

Haelan found the ferret’s words somewhat out of character, but supposed none of them had had decent rest in several days.

“The Hilltender speaks true. But for me that only manates our return all the more. The knowledge that there are abominations just sitting there unhindered in this world is an affront to the Balance. Braddok’s words resound with reason.” Fen said in all severity.

“I am sorry to say, my newfound friends, that I shall not be journeying further with you.” Pyrnion interjected.

“What?! Oh no, Pyrnion...” Haelan whined.

“My I ask why, Pyrnion?” Alaria finally spoke.

“My assignment was to reamin in Miralosta to aid the elves in defense of their homeland. My charge to aid you in the same. That goal has been achieved. My work here is complete. I would return to my beloved master and the quiet peaks and aeries of my kind.” the feather-headed man said solemnly.

“I would hope you reconsider, my friend.” Braddok said. “We are warriors, you and I. Your charge is not entirely complete so long as the dark wizard remains alive to rebuild his forces. Would not the true completion of your task require his utter destruction? I would greatly value your axe by my side.”

These words seemed to give Pyrnion pause. The winged zephari crossed his arms, one hand to his chin and pondered.

“I thought we proved Tresahd was the dragon...and a 'she’ not a 'he’.” Haelan questioned to the assembly.

“We did indeed, Hilltender.” Fen answered without a hint of emotion.

“A dragon?!” Pyrnion said in disbelief.

“Yeah. He..er...she...or whatever wants to resurrect his or her dragon mommy. ..who I am to understand was waaaay worse than he...or she....is.” Haelan explained as best he could. “She’s after the Windsoul from Alaria for some reason...has something to do with the rite or who knows what magical reason.”

“The ‘Wind Soul’?! YOU possess the Kalanaptra!?! A human mage?!” <Kalanaptra translates as “Wind Soul" in the language of the zepharim> Pyrnion’s eyes bulged in disbelief as he looked at the R’Hathi magess in an entirely different light.

“We know it as the Ihs Repahl...but yes. It seems so.” Alaria pulled the crystalline orb from her largest hip pouch.

Pyrnion’s eagle-like amber eyes widened more at the sight of one of his people’s most ancient legendary treasures. “This is...unusual circumstances...I may have to reconsider.” Pyrnion looked deeply into the Ihs Repahl. “I can not stand by to let the Kalanaptra fall into evil hands.”

“We have no intention, my good master zephari, to let the Ihs repahl fall into evil hands.” Alaria defended.

Buttercreamshadowfeet began to heave the entire length of her being.

“Buttercream?" Haelan asked concerned.

*I do not think *URK* the salty fish agrees *URGLE* with me...* the ferret’s voice came haltingly between convulsions.

“What wrong with the ferret?” Fen said.

“She doesn’t like the fish.” Haelan answered reaching out to pet the ferret in hopes of soothing her.

All of the companions watched in corcern which transitioned immediately to disbelief as the ferret’s whole body shuddered from rump to nose and Buttercreamshadowfeet opened her mouth wide to expel a cloud of billowing black and fiery orange smoke.

In an instant, the smoke swirled and congealed upon the table between them into a towering form giving off flames and noxious clouds and in an instant more, the solid form of the great vulture looking dirty feathered form of the demon they had seen in the summoning dungeons of Nor Gorthok.

The force of the burst sent all of the companions reeling back from their seated places around the table. The vulture demon screamed into the day, its piercing shriek echoing throughout the wood.

“Who wuh huh!?” Duor’s groggy form bolted upright, sending the still unconscious Jovias rollign back off of him. The satyr groaned softly.

*I’ll take that for you.* the screechy demonic voice entered all of their heads. A taloned hand reached forward to grasp the orb from Alaria. It missed by an inch.

“DEMON!?” cried Haelan in disbelief.

“Abomination!” shouted Fen in apparent anger, moreso than surprise. The druid gripped his leaftip spear and the delicately shaped blade flared with green energy.

A burst of light came up before the demon’s eyes. The magical light, while not divine, had a disturbing, disorienting effect on the misshapened figure’s vision. The creature shrieked again.

The companions saw, across the table, the bandaged zephari with an outstretched hand pointed at the demon. The winged humanoid’s wounds were still too grave to attmept to take up his weapon, but the minor magics of his race were still available to him.

Shouts of alarm went up away from the heroes’ pavilion, elvish cries from the remaining soliders and captains in alarm at the sudden appearance of a creature from the netherworld in their midst.

Two arrows struck true, but bounced from the demon’s feathers hide. The capatains were raacing for the heroes position with slender elvish blades drawn and shining in the late day sunlight.

“Beriz Theran!” Alaria managed to shout out, forming a circular field of blue light between her and the momentarily disturbed demon as he reached out again in a blind grab for the orb. The taloned hand crashed against the conjured shield.

Fen’s green-glowing spear tip sank into the demon’s lower back, beneath its putrid smelling wings.

The demon whirled around with a roar, wrenching the weapon from Fen’s grip. Its lunching razor sharp curved beak blocked, abruptly, by Haelan’s small magical round shield (still attached to the daelvar’s arm).

Haelan whirled around in the opposite direction with his mace to clobber the demon’s close head. Without the magical blessing from his goddess, the blow served to deflect the creature’s attack but not cause any actual damage.

The demon raised its arms and wings and its entire form was bathed in rippling heat and flames.

Quickly ushering Alaria behind him and tellign her to get away, Braddok lunged up onto the table as well, ripping Kandu from its sheathe. The blade blazed with sapphire blue light even as it was drawn.

*This is not a creature of undeath, warrior, my enchantments alone will not slay it.* Kandu said to Braddok's mind.

“Yeah yeah, just cut it!” Braddok found himself shouting out loud. And, indeed, Braddok did lay a woeful wound upon the creature.

The demon howled in pain and rage. Again, it whirled around to face the latest assault from the round table. Its great bulk of black and orange feathered form, serpentine tail and swiping claws threw Braddok from the table to some distance off the pavilion.

“MMPH!” expelled the drunken satyr as the warrior’s great armored body bounced off of him and rolled off the pavilion’s low platform. “‘EY! Washtit!” Jovias managed to get out, not knowing what had roused him. His eyes rose to see the vulture demon towering over them all. His eyes widened and he let out a high-pitched scream.

“Not so loud, fer cryin’ sakes.” Duor mumbled at his new friend. “Take SISH!” the dwarf forcefully called as a bolt flew from his hand crossbow to sail, harmlessly, into the tent covering above. “Oh. hmph.” the dwarf scowled unapproving and grabbed another dart from his hip quiver. The dwarf’s eyes widened as he thought he saw his weapon glow with a honey-colored light for a moment.

Indeed, all of their weapons, other than Fen’s spear which the demon had wrenched out of its back and thrown far into the nearby field, glowed. And while duor could only smell the satyran whiskey on his beard, the rest of the assembled heroes smelled pine trees and summer rain.

Two more arrows from nearby elfin archers bounced harmlessly from the demon’s body.

The vulture demon reached down with his other taloned hand to swipe at the obviously wounded zephari...He remembered these creatures. The gods‘ divine messengers and servants. Stupid subservient weaklings. Some of their ancestors had been foolish enough to be exiled from the immortal realms by the gods, willingly accepting their fate, and shackled with mortal existence. Not like the demons, they were smart and strong enough to conquer and retain their own immortal planes. Ending this feathered man‘s life would be doing him a favor!

The talon swipe was minor, but in his already weakend form, Pyrnion succumbed to unconsciousness from the wound and corresponding demonfire.

“HHHhHHHYAR!” Haelan roared with a telling swipe at the vulture demon’s legs with his pinecone-headed mace. With the added divine magic, the weapon struck the beastly appendages with a thunder.

The blow knocked the creature from its feet, sending it ‘chin’ first to the floor of the pavilion.

*THPT* After needing three tries to properly load his hand blurry crossbow, another dart from Duor went wildly awry and pireced the delicate fabric of the tented roof. “Frag." the highly drunken dwarf mumbled under his beard. “Wait! Hangon h’ngon...I’ll geddim." and began to fumble, once again to grasp and load another dart.

“Your dagger, Duor! Use your dagger!" Haelan cried.

“R’yeh MAD?!" Duor said in complete increduity. “Tha’s a demon!”

Two elfin captains arrived, leaping up to the pavilion in the fluid movements only elves possessed. One elfin captain tried to drag the large, heavily muscled zephari out of the immediate melee. The other made a swipe at the demon with his silvery blade. He missed.

Fen shouted his tried and true spell. The vines and sprouts of verdant green tendrils lept from all around the pavilion, moving to ensnare the fallen demon. The growth struck toward the creature, but seemed constantly “backed away”, appearing unable or unwilling to trap the vulture demon. The ends of the green ropes charred and smoldered in the demon’s fire shield.

Fen’s eyebrows rose in surprised understanding at the realization his “natural” magic was unlikely to thwart the demon’s unnatural occult power. The half-elf made a dash to where his spear had been thrown, nearly an entire glade away.

Enough of this folly, the demon thought to himself. He was here to get the crystal orb. Only that would release him from the dark master’s hold on him and permit his return to the Abyssal realms from which he’d been torn.

The creature rose with a scathing glare to the srrounding heroes and elves, he found where Alaria stood, backed away out of the pavilion but refusing to flee. Seemingly impossibly, his solid beak-like mouth twisted into a wicked grin. With a waver of the air, the demon disappeared from view.

“Where is it!?” Haelan cried in alarm.

“Shut this area down!” Fen declared as the elves, daelvar, Braddok who had regained his feet and was moving again for the monster, and the staggering dwarf looked around in confusion.

Alaria had been murmuring one of her only other defensive incantations. From what little she recalled of creatures of the lower planes, the illusion might work...or it might not. Even as the demon disappeared, the form of the magess split into 5 distinct forms, each identical to the next.

“Haelan, to me! Invoke your Sanctuary!” Alaria called out in panic as the towering feathered form appeared for a moment to swipe through one of her mirror images. A shriek of frustration went up before it disappeared again.

Haelan rushed for Alaria’s position, the words of the tried and true protection upon his lips. Then he realized the creature might not be stayed by such a phsyical barrier. It was huge and strong and obviously highly magical. No, this required the true circle of protection. "Of course," though Haelan, "the prayer that stays magic and magical beings, not physcial assault."

Braddok, with his longer legs, bounded two strides ahead of the daelvar priest and when the demon again appeared to dispel another of Alaria’s illusions, the Grinlian swordsman made a desperate attempt to strike. The blue energy of his blade ripped through air even as the demon again disappeared with a goading smirk.

Haelan came up before 3 Alaria’s.

“Uh..." the Hilltender looked, frenzied, from one to another. “Which one is you?!”

Bollux, Alaria thought. Her illusion was working too well, perhaps.

Suddenly one of the three remainign images burst out of existence (like a cloud or smoke being blown apart).

“I GODDIM! Oh...wait...” Duor exclaimed with glee and then squinted in the direct of most of the combatants.

“STOP FIRING THOSE DAMN THINGS!” Braddok called out.

With only two Alarias left, the magess decided the cleric’s protection was more important than her own magic and quickly dispelled the enchantment. Haelan immediately began to invoke Protection from Evil which, he was sure, would hold off the creature until the others could destroy it. Likewise, Alaria and himself would be able to cast spells out of the circle, unlike the invocation of Sanctuary.

This proved a moment too long as the demon became visible. Directly in front of the daelvar the demon swung his forearm, that Haelan noted looked like the "scaly" part of a chicken's leg, with its black talons, well over the Hilltender’s head. Slashing and throwing back the magess in a scream of pain and spray of blood.

A second swipe from his other “arm” sent the daelvar tumbling across the ground.

*Now, my dear ‘Storm Rider’, I will be taking that orb.* the demon’s voice sounded in Alaria’s head.

“I think not.” Alaria huffed as she tapped the demon’s vulture-leg like ankle with the tip of the Staff of Azanna. The demon looked down at the plain copper-twined staff at its feet.

With a thought, a lightning bolt shot up from the end of the staff, throwing the vulture demon up and away from the magess. The thunder rolled even before the demon’s smoldering and burned form crashed down some 20 yards away, out in the glade.

“Give me this!” Fen said in annoyance as he swiped the ethereal dagger out of its sheathe on Duor’s hip. The druid raced for the demon’s position, collecting his spear as he went. Immediately the leaftip spear again flared with its green glow. The druid seemed quite the hero of elvin legend as he raced across the field, a green flaming blade in one hand and green glowing spear in the other.

The vulture demon rose and launched itself into the air, flying directly for the magess as she regained her feet.

“I know your tricks too, demon. REPLEESH!” Alaria called with the Ihs repahl in her hand. Immediately the magess wavered out of normal sight. Still, she narrowly dodged the demon’s flying charge.

It rose up into the air and looked down at Alaria’s former position.

*Will take more than your weak illusions to hide from my sight, witch!* the demon said. Its eyes glowed an unholy red light and the form of the magess became immediately visible to the demon.

The elf captain now stood near to where Alaria had disappeared. Braddok also was holding his blade at the ready, not knowing his was by the wizard’s side.

“Fair enough.” Alaria said as she dropped the invisibiility charm and returned to normal vision.

As the vulture demon dove for her, a thought to the Ihs Repahl brought into being a blast of air, striking the flying demon with force of a battering ram, veering it off course and slamming into the ground.

The demon took in the scene. The magess was bleeding across her chest, soaking into her storm blue robes. She seemed to be leaning heavily on her staff. The Ihs Repahl pulsed with blue-white light on her other hand. The warrior and elf captain, blades at the ready, raced for its position. The daelvar priest was intoning some prayer or the other, though he too was bloodied. From its flank, the druid was running up with strange green-glowing weapons in each hand. It seemed it had blown its cover prematurely.

Again, with a casual launch from its powerful haunches, the demon took to the air and sought to fly away. He got some height and was winging above the treeline of the glade before he was redirected, as if be a brick wall of air that swirled around him. One direction then the other, then the opposite, and back around again. The demon began to spin, caught in a conjured whirlwind.

Through the leaf and grass filled winds, it looked down to the magess, holding the Ihs Repahl, commanding the winds to bring him down, closer. It flapped and dove, tried to ride the winds and escape their hold. It could not. The ground came up closer and closer, very quickly now, until it slammed into the ground.

Before it could recover, human, elf, half-elf and daelvar were upon it, slashing, stabbing and pounding with enchanted and blessed weapons.

The creature screeched out in defiance even as it knew, it felt, the cold abyssal fires ripping into it. The painful, but unpleasantly so, burning fires of being ripped from one plane into another. *NO! NO! I’m not finished!NOOOOOoooooooooo* the demon cried out to who knows what dark powers.

In a final burst of flaming energies, sending all around it flying back 20 feet to their backs with force, a smoldering black scorch mark stained the glade where the vulture demon had been.

As the companions stared in shock where the demon had been, a dart thudded in the center of the scorch mark.

“IIIIIII GOTTIM!” Duor shouted in self-adulation from the pavilion.

Great Fight! What levels are the heroes at now? After all, beating a vrock is certainly no piece of cake...

Azkorra said:

Great Fight!

Click to expand...

Thanks. Glad you liked it.

Azkorra said:

What levels are the heroes at now? After all, beating a vrock is certainly no piece of cake...

Click to expand...

I believe this lil' skirmish took place just after everyone [except Pyrnion] hit around 40k from the Bulgruch. So, 5th-6th for pretty much everyone.

I was gonna do a "catchin' up/where we are now" update at the start of the next post...but since yeh asked ...

The Stormriders
Alaria Staver: a.k.a. Alaria "Stormrider" a.k.a. "The Stormrider" a.k.a. "Magess Alaria." Human [R'Hathi]/female. Mage 5th (riiiight on the cusp of 6th, she needs some downtime/training). Our intrepid formerly official leader who now still finds herself more often than not in the supervisory and decision making, if not leadership, role.

Braddok Kar Barforth: Human/male. Fighter 6th. Braddok got squished by an ogre and spent some time...ya know...dead before getting raised. He and Alaria after a lengthy lust/hate dance have finally given in to their feelings/urges and begun an actual relationship.

"Hilltender" Halean Spurthistle: Daelvar/male. Cleric of Faerantha (mother nature deity of Orean halflings) 6th.

Duor Darkesmythe: Dwarf/male. Thief 6th.

"Fen": a.k.a. Faeryl of Enkort, Half-elf/male. Druid 6th (knock, knock, knockin' on 7th's door!)

Pyrnion: Zephari/make. Ranger 5th (only about halfway through 5th. Pyrnion's behind the others since he was a new PC to replace one of our honorably fallen).

NPC: Buttercreamshadowfeet: a.k.a. "Buttercream" a.k.a. "B.C." Giant ferret/female. BC was introduced as a companion of the PC Gnobert (see below) and was, essentially, adopted by Haelan after Gnobert's unfortunate end.

INTRODUCING <cue lengthy fanfare> the new NPC: Jovias Rambark: Satyr/male. Bard 3.
Duor's player decided Duor missed having a satyr in the group to get wasted with. Hence, seeing as they were in the elf-realm of Miralostae and there were satyrs all over, he wanted to get one...Duor also figures, with Jovias being a minstrel, what better way to get his fame established and spread across the world. SO, now Duor has an official, "old school style" henchman.

A moment of silence for our valiant Fallen:
1. Gnobert: gnome/male, illusionist/thief. Squashed to paste by an ogre at the Battle of Bridgetower.

2. "Goldshield" Coerraine: human/male, Redstar Knight [Paladin] of Celradorn. Presumed squished by ice giants in the perpetual winter demi-plane of Gorathgraard.

3. Erevan Ryvsorai Aiiri: Elf/male, Fighter/Mage. Dissolved into a pool of goo by the acid breath of the "black behir", Rach'sha, in the depths of Nor Gorthok after being, forgive the pun, "softened up" by some wights.

4. Festus Hornshod: Satyr/male, Ranger. Dissolved, with Erevan, into the same pool of goo from acid breath in the depths of Nor Gorthok. An NPC turned replacement PC turned regular PC and "official" Stormrider...before he was goo, I mean.

5. NPC: Meeessh: a.k.a. "the Marvelous Mister Meesh", Steam Mephit...presumably male. Ripped to shreds by the [barghest] Bulgruch.

Rehhhsss-tuh ihhhnnn peeeessshhhh, Mister Meesh...<from beyond the planar veil> "That'sss MEEESSH!!!"

After much fussing by Haelan over Buttercream’s well-being and more healing applied to the wounded, including an [again] near death Pyrnion, the companions make the trip, with an elfin guard. They return to the holdings of Evandrial and spend a week in recuperation and relaxation. There is an audience and three days of feasting and celebraation with the Lord Seniiris and Miralostae nobles. They are elfvined, dined, praised in song, tale and dance and ultimately, declared “elf-friends” of the Miralostae for the reaminder of their days.


In lieu of tokens of gratitude and treasure, most of Alaria humbly requests training by one of Seniiris’ mages and access to what arcane research they elfin stronghold possesses. This is gladly offered.

Haelan spends some time with the few Arinane priests to be found in Evandrial. He finds he and the elfin priests seem to have a great deal of philosophical ground in common and greatly enjoys their company. He also attends a funerary singing for the poor moon-priest, Cyrillian.

Braddok spends the time relaxing, when not indulging and enjoying what little time Alaria has to offer while she studies [a.k.a. “levels up"].

Fen takes the time to learn what he can of elvish herbology and, in true druidic fashion, disappears for days at a time for alleged “meetings” with his brethren of the Ancient Order.

Poor Pyrnion is left to mend himself up, again, and contact’s his lord the “Wind Wizard”, courtesy of the Lord Seniiris’ court mages with news of the Bulgruch’s defeat, the unexpected presence of a vulture-demon, the assertion that Tresahd is, in fact, a dragon...and most importantly, the possession of the Windsoul by this [relatively] lowly human magess known as “the Stormrider.” The zephari’s returning instructions are to remain with the party and see to it that the Kalanaptra does not fall into the dark wizard’s grasp.

Duor, of course, opts for riches instead of titles or training. He receives, in complete surprise, a taylor-made shirt of elfin chain that will fit his very un-elvish frame and a small hip-holster of 10 darts of elfin make, enchanted to strike any enemy [+2]. The remainder of the time the dwarf can be found carousing with Jovias, drinking, chasing female satyrs, and regaling the russet-haired satyr bard with his version of tales of the Stormriders’ adventures.

Finally, after a single week had become three, without their notice, the companions finally convene privately to discuss what they really can do. The knowledge, from the female elf Selvarryn, who had become one of their personal attendants of the passed few weeks, that the Midwinter was nearly upon the world (despite the fact that any trace of winter was barely noted within Miralosta’s wooded borders) gave the companions a shock and impulse to really “get something done”.

“We must truly consider, my friends, if we can dare to allow Tresahd the time and opportunity to regain his strength of arms.” Braddok pressed with more urgency.

“If he can attack us here, with demons no less, he can get to us anywhere, I suspect. Apparently, he still covets Alaria’s orb and sooner or later, he will get it. We must end him...” the Grinlian warrior continued.

“Her.” Haelan corrected.

“Her, whatever!” Braddok amended with some annoyance. “He..er..she must be brought down for good or we will not have any peace.”

“I am inclined to agree, Braddok. Though my own reasons have more to do with the disconcerting knowledge that the dragon continues to alter the Blanace by bringing demons into this world. With apparent ease.” Fen added. “We cannot allow such the abominations one foot upon Orea, lest the entirety of the Green be threatened.”

“‘Bout that, “ Haelan piped in, “how did he get a demon in Buttercream in the first place?”

The companions looked to each other with obvious concern.

“I’ve been thinking about it and it doesn’t make sense.” The Hilltender continued. “I mean, we were here...Buttercream was with Fen...Tresahd was here too! He was fighting the elves while we were in Nor Gorthok...and that vulture-demon was trapped.”

“Well, in all fairness, Haelan, I believe all vulture-demons appear the same...but it did seem to know us. So you may be correct.” Alaria added.

“I’m with Braddok. We said we would have the dragon’s treasure. And we don’t have it yet.” Duor piped in.

“Huzzah! To the dragon’s horde!” exclaimed Jovias from his seat behind Duor at the long oval table.

The present Stormriders gave the satyr looks of irritation and raised eyebrows. Duor grinned but “shushed” his zealous henchman with a silent hand.

”My only concern is the Kalanaptra. I will gladly fight evil wherever it is encountered, but my primary duty is to the safety of the Windsoul and keeping its wielder from harm.” Pyrnion put in his two coppers.

"A cause I am most deeply appreciative of my winged friend." Braddok added.

“Due respect, Duor, but you are the one after the dragon’s treasure. The rest of us want to put an end to the dark evil menace threatening the whole of the realms.” Haelan said gently.

“More or less, Haelan. I confess, the riches contained in Nor Gorthok will be of great use to me and my own cause...which I certainly hope I can count on the rest of you aid.” Braddok added.

“Of course, Braddok!” Haelan quickly added. The daelvar seemed a little off-put that the swordsman would question that. “I just meant...”

“Haelan may be correct. In all truthfulness, Buttercream wasn’t with me. She found me. And for her to make her way from as deep within the Feldmere to my location in Daenfrii...without magical help...would be nigh impossible.”

“What is the last thing you remember before finding Fen, Buttercream?” Haelan asked the ferret. Why he hadn’t thought to do this in the passed 3 weeks did not cross his mind.

*Well, I was waiting for you under the great oak...and then she came and magiked us somewhere...and then I smelled Fen and there he was...and the greencloak magiked us here.* Buttercream said without apparently noticing that there was anything unusual about what she’d said.

“She who?!” Haelan asked in alarm.

*Her...* Buttercream poked her pointy nose in Alaria’s direction, *the magess.

*Would think she’d have the decency to bring me all the way here, herself. But I don’t mind the half-elf’s company...He listens sometimes.* Obviosuly finished with her testimony, the ferret turned and dug her nose through her pelt, along the side, at a persistant itch.

Haelan relayed this, obviously confused.

Alaria looked at the rest of the companions in apparent concern and confusion, as well. But Haelan, I was here...with you. We flew here from Bridgetower. Besides which, I do not possess anywhere near the power to magically teleport myself from place to place.” she said.

“Hunh. That’s true.” Haelan answered. “Buttercream, are you sure it was Alaria?”

*It’s not enough you leave me hither and yon in hostile terriotires whenever you will, now you want to question my eyesight? It's better than yours...even in the dark!* the ferret’s female voice was filled with incredulity.

“No...I...I mean...But she was here...with me...She couldn’t’ve been two places at once."

Casually scratching behind her ear before shaking her head very rapidly from side to side, Buttercream responded, *I’ve not the reason nor care to explain it to you, Hilltender. I know what I know. I am of the natural world. What I say is what is so. And now...I’m hungry.*

With that, the ferret turned in what could be interpretted by all present as a “huff” and scurried her way out of the open aired pavilion in which they were holding this meeting. before wandering too far, she turned her head and chittered one last thing. Then she disappeared into the thick brush.

“What was that?” Pyrnion asked the daelvar who had turned back to the table with a blush.

“She said not to go anywhere without her...'again.’” Haelan said, downcast with embarrassment.

“I think sinister forces were at work.” Fen finally said after mulling things over. “Is it not so, magess, that the succubus demon can alter her shape?”

“It is.” Alaria replied before understanding dawned on her. “As well as possessing powerful charms. The vile creature must have taken my shape to gain Buttercream’s confidence and then somehow charmed her or altered her memory to not know about the vulture-demon’s possession. Then brought her right to you...”

“And I brought the abomination right to us.” Fen said as he slammed his fist into the table in apparent frustration and anger that he could be so easily manipulated. “But I was sent here by one of my own order...unless...”

“Any shape, Fen. A succubus can appear as whomever they like. Have you since heard tell of the druid you met and sent you here?” Alaria asked.

The half-elf druid confessed he had not. “I am a fool.”

“Nonsense, friend Fen.” Braddok now interjected. “The wiles of a demoness are not lightly seen noticed nor pierced. It could have happened to any of us.”

Fen nodded his hooded head in reluctant agreement.

“So...Where are we going now?” Duor said with some impatience.

Next...still more questions than answers in "Birds and Ballgowns?"

“With the Ihs Repahl, we can ‘wind’ ourselves anywhere we like...I think.” Alaria posed. “The question becomes, do we go directly to Nor Gorthok...or do we think the dragon will sit and nurse its loss on this front and take time to rework its plans? If I, all of us, could have a bit longer to study and research, train up our skills just a bit more. We might be in a much better position to take Tresahd-Desaarthal head on.” the magess finished her thought.
“And the demons...the hobgoblins and wights...??” Haelan said with a fearful voice.

“Don’t forget our friend Rach’sha.” Duor added.

“Or whatever 'the Overseer’ is.” Fen added. When the others looked at the druid without understanding, Fen explained. “In the goblinoid camp, Erilyn and I uncovered the proof we needed to assert Tresahd was, in fact, the dragon Desaarthal. One of his/her contacts is known simply referred to in the communications I saw as 'the Overseer.’ “ Fen shrugged. “There was no indication what that might be. Only that is was yet another of Tresahd’s minions. There were also communications with someone named ‘Galtin’ who, it seems, awaits Tresahd’s bidding at Nor Tyrilith.”

“Thaaaa’s a lot of minions.” Jovias added, unbidden. The satyr had been listening intently to the council as he took periodic swigs form his, now nearly empty, wineskin.

“Nor Tyrilith?!” Haelan said in distress at hearing this for the first time. “That is an entirely unholy place. Cursed since before the elves ever came to Miralostae, if I’m not mis-remembering my histories.”

“You do not, Hilltender...unfortunately.” Braddok added quietly. “And it is within the lands ofteh Great Kingdom*. If Nor Tyrilith is again occupied then we may have less time to return to the west than I already believed..." the warrior’s sentence trailed off as he scowled at some inner thought.

*Braddok’s home nation of Grinlia is known as “the Great Kingdom" because of its sprawling size. Grinlia encompasses nearly a quarter of the Orean continent. Though Braddok’s home realm, the Barony of Barforth, is far south of Nor Tyrilith (practically the entire kingdom away, in fact) it is general Grinlian attitude that a threat in any of Grinlia’s lands threatens the kingdom as a whole.

This debate went on for some time before it was decided, the companions would return to Deanfrii. Not to Bridgetower, but the Dragonmage’s own keep in the heart of the magical land. Alaria’s reasoning was sound and with the resources avaialble at Dragonwing Vale, all of the companions could continue to practice and train their skills, hopefully, to their collective benefit within a short amount of time and still strike at Nor Gorthok before the spring thaw. Braddok reasoned that it was unlikely Tresahd would make any push outside of the Feldmere before then.

Agreed, the companions spent one more night in Lord Seniiris’ court and then respectfully took their leave of the elf kingdom’s eastern province.

Invoking the Ihs Repahl’s most potent power, Alaria, Braddok, Haelan, Duor, Jovias and Buttercream were transformed into wispy cloud-like versions of themselves and sped their way toward the Dragonmage’s stronghold. Fen wished to travel by foot and hoped to meet with his order along the way. Pyrnion, capable of his own flight, agreed to accompany the half-elf and wing them to the Vale when Fen’s business was complete. All of the companions agreed it wise for none of them to be traveling alone at this time. Within Dragonwing Vale they’d have no cause for concern of infiltration by any of Tresahd’s creatures...something they were less sure of in the border keep at Bridgetower.

By the end of the day, the bulk of the party arrived in Dragonwing Vale, unable to make the whole journey in their windy forms due to the protection set up around the Dragonmage’s citadel. They entered through the large town that surrounded the citadel on foot. The diversity of their company was not particularly of note. Gnomes, daelvar, elves, even centaurs and satyrs were almost commonplace among the vale’s population. They did attraact some notice for their obvious armaments, armor and traveling garb.

Given the fact Midwinter was only two days away, Haelan helped his bipedal companions (and himself) to a prayer against the wintery chill. Though the day was bright and sunny the air was crisp and snow caked along the rooftops and road sides, not in inconvenient ways, but just enough to give the whole of the town a fluffy white coat.

“Huhf...Huhf...Huhf..." Jovias exhaled, making little clouds of “smoke" expel from his mouth.

“Wut’re yeh doin’?" Duor said with some annoyance at the satyr two steps behidn him.

“Dragon breath." Jovias replied with ciprian nonchalance.

“Yer wut?" Duor turned to look at the satyr, completely confused.

“Huhfffff" Jovias blew a cloud of chilled air into the dwarf’s face. “Dragon breath. Air’s cold. Makes your breathe smoke puffs.” The red-head and russet haunched satyr said to his new “master” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Haelan giggled and immediately joined the satyr in blowing “smoke puffs” with his breath. “Don’t you dwarves do this? *Huhf* I’d think it’s cold enough underground.”

“I ain’t from underground...not in a long time. And it’s not as cold as all this.” Duor answered the halfling in annoyance.

“Huhf!” Duor caught another blast of “dragon breath” from Jovias.

“Knock it off!” Duor waved away the satyr.

As the party passed through the crowded street of the market distrinct, they were stopped by a familiar voice.

“Alaria?! Magess Alaria ‘Stormrider’, is that you?” came the female voice full of surprise.

The magess whirled around to see the Lady Elhianne of Bridgetower. The noblewoman sported a fur trimmed gown of flowing pale blue. Her blond curls beneath a fur-filled hood from her mantle of deep indigo. She removed the hood. Two maids similarly cloaked against the cold stood behind her, their arms burdened with several bundles each.

“Lady Elhianne?” Alaria said somewhat caught off guard. The magess tucked a strand of her dark brown hair behind one ear and silently berating herself at her “road worn” appearance in the face of the Lady of Bridgetower’s natural elegance and beauty. With a cantrip breathed under her breath as she dipped her head toward the noble woman in a respectful half-bow, her gown was somewhat cleaner and had a bit of shimmer to it. Her hair gained a bit of a luster and smooth wave to it and when she again lifted her head, her face showed a bit of color and lips a touch more red. Still, the R'Hathi woman admitted to herself, she could not hope to compete with Elhianne's golden effortless grace...and she hated herself for that self-realization.

“What a pleasant surprise. What brings you to the Dragonmage’s vale?” Alaria smiled as the two women exchanged kisses on their cheek.

“Same as you, I would imagine. The Midwinter Gala!” Elhianne said in some surprise and exhuberation.

”Oh....is it that time already?” Alaria gave a somewhat inelegant chuckle. ”I‘d completely forgotten. I don’t think we’ve received an invitation?” she looked questioningly around at Haelan, Duor and Braddok.

Haelan shrugged while the swordsman and rogue looked at her dumbly. Behind them Alaria noticed Jovias cozying up to one of Elhianne‘s maids.

Alaria, mentally, rolled her eyes. Satyrs.
“Well of course you haven’t.” Elhianne’s voice snapped the magess’ attention back to her.

“Too busy out saving the whole of the realm, aren’t you?" Elhianne giggled at her own jest. “NONsense! Stuff and nonsense. You are the saviors of Daenfrii. Invitation or not, I insist you accompany Rynthis and I as our personal guests. The Lordmage himself could hardly complain. I won‘t hear another thing about it.

“Have you selected a gown yet?” Elhianne asked considering her invitation automatically agreed to.

Met with a stunned silence from Alaria, the lady of Bridgetower gave the R’Hathi magess a sidelong look and coy grin.

“Of course you have. I can see.

“If you’ve spent these weeks since you won the war in Evandrial no doubt you have a spectacular dress and jewels of elvish finery. You simply must show it to me. I am all but exploding in envy. I cannot tell you the joy you...all of you,” Elhianne amended diverting her eyes from Alaria for a moment to take in the rest of the crew, “have brought to the realm. Unbelievable. Rynthis told me the reports of your victory...against a demon wolf and an army of ghouls?! Is it true? You must give me every detail..."

Elhianne slipped her arm through Alaria’s own and began leading the magess through the streets.

“Where are you staying? We’re at my sister’s? You remember Dauphinne, of course. Rynthis had some things to do back at the tower. Tying up the details of the invasion, you understand. But he’s arriving tomorrow. Are you taking Braddok? He is quite the strapper isn’t he?" Elhianne tittered a courtly giggle.

“You must forgive me, Alaria. I am nearly out of my skin when the Gala comes around. It is the highlight of the entire year!” her voice, though filled with excitement seemed to end on a hidden note of remorse.

“Oh my dear, I am overjoyed to see you. We simply must have tea this afternoon...” the lady of Bridgetower hugged the arm she had absconded.

Alaria’s eyes went skyward even as the tight grin formed on her lips to Elhianne’s well-intentioned though completely inane droning. This lovely lady, Alaria reminded herself, truly needed more time among courtly ladies and less at a border-crossing like Bridgetower.

Braddok offered to help the maids with their packages but they declined to with a blushing giggle, stating that their lady simply wouldn’t permit it. One dared to add, “‘Heroes such as you should not be carrying gowns and garlands.”

“Damn right.” Duor replied to all, though no one was actually speaking to him. He strutted off behind the Hilltender with Jovias smiling apologetically to the women close behind. Braddok followed after and the maids, finally, came after.

The odd procession of nobility and adventurers made their way through the snow-capped rows of stuccoed two and three storied townhouses until the huge walls of Dragonwing Keep came into view.

They climbed up, passing the various temples that surrounded the citadel. First, they passed the large dome and broad gates set with armored spear-wielding and crimson clad guards of Celradorn. All of the companions found themselves staring at the eight-pointed red star symbol of the Golden Defender and saying silent prayers for Coerraine.

Then the plain boxy multi-storied “library temple” of Sorilorr, the All-knowing. Shaved-headed priests and monks wandered in and out, most with arms cradling at least one scroll or tome each. Their bright orange robes and tunics, offset by emerald green trim or breeches flowed with apparent purpose and complete reverence, as if the papers in their possession might break with their slightest misstep.

The final ascent tot he citadel’s gates sported two holy spots. To their right, sloping down back toward the town, the public open amphitheater style devoted to Manat, the Blue Star, goddess of magic. Brightly colored frescos painted the columns and sloping rows. Their images moved regularly, portraying images of the great feats and legends of the goddess of magic and her most devout followers, Keth Dragonwing, the first Dragonmage and his descendants among them.

To the left, the healer’s halls and temple of Gilea, it’s broad staircase lined with huge rose bushes, kept in bloom throughout the year by “the grace of the Merciful Mother.”

Coming around to the open, though guarded, gates as Elhianne took a breath between rambling altering questions and answering herself, Alaria was finally hit with a complete abject horror she had not felt in many many moons...since before leaving R'Hath...

What WAS she going to wear?!