Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"

Thoughts and feelings

The magess from R’Hath, the swordsman from Barforth, the Redstar Knight of Celradorn, the elf tracker, the dwarf thief, the halfling cleric of Faerantha and the half-elf druid carefully piled the bodies of the elf defenders of Silver Falls into a pire in the center of the glade.

A flick of arcane fire from Alaria set the elvin bodies ablaze.

They silently gathered what supplies they could carry from their ship and climbed the stairs around the massive bronzewood tree to the bridge that led to the top of the falls.

Each of them lost in thought over the discovery and events of the previous afternoon. It was was agreed that for all of their sakes, they not camp at the decimated elvin outpost. They got a solid league away, sticking close to the D’Evand, following Erevan and Fen’s superior night vision in the cloudy darkness of night before stopping and making camp.

There was a goblinoid army on the loose. From what they’d learned from their captives, it was heading to “the big wood.” Erevan, Alaria and Fen (who actually hailed from the nearby region of the Laklans) agreed that could only mean they marched for the kingdom of the Miralostae elves itself.

Erevan scoffed at the thought. No matter who or what this “Bulgruch” was, there was little doubt in his mind that he would be able to march, unopposed, into his homeland.

What concerned Alaria (and the rest of the group once she explained) was the statement by the goblin archer that “Sharzaak would rise.”

Sharzaak was the dreaded dragon of legend whose remains were the very island of Dragonbone Isle itself. If that were true and a purpose of this army, then Tresahd must, in some way be related to it.

Alaria couldn’t really get a clear picture as to how, but was firmly convinced that the possession of the black pearl from the Tyrisian temple and the clear orb she now carried were somehow related to the “rising” of Sharzaak.

Worse yet, Fen pointed out, if the army headed west and north, they would sooner or later come to the hamlet of Welford. If the remnants of Silver Falls were any indication, the quiet orchard farming hamlet stood little to no chance.

Most of the party passed the night in fitful sleep.

Alaria awoke several times, haunted by nightmares of the elvin mage she’d watched die that evening. She pulled the small leatherbound book from the satchel that contained her spellbooks and paged through it. It was obviously the mage’s spellbook. As best she could tell by a cursory examination, it contained two spells she could use and three others that were currently beyond her capacity, like one of the scrolls Vertior had given her. The young wizard stared for a moment at the crystal orb in her pouch, wondering what role it played in the, almost unthinkable, resurrection of the dread dragon, Sharzaak.

Coerraine passed the rest of the night and following day in silent contemplation. Was it wrong he had not intervened in Erevan’s “dishonorable” slaughter of their captives? Would they have showed the party any similar concern had their roles been reversed? Could he forgive Alaria her allowances for evil to “pass them by”? Could he maintain his god-given duty with this group of beings? He prayed heavily on these issues.

Haelan lamented the goblins’ end. But given the devastation their company (and possibly they themselves) had wrought, he saw no conclusion but that their deaths were just. Still, the deaths did not sit well with the daelvar Hilltender. Tears flowed from his eyes as he wondered why the races of Orea couldn’t “just get along?” Why did there have to be evil in the world? Fen seemed to think there should be…no, had to be to maintain his esoteric “balance.” Haelan scowled at the thought. He liked the druid very much, but something was just wrong to everything Haelan had been taught to believe. Most perplexing for the halfling, why would anyone want to be evil?

Braddok and Duor slept soundly, if lightly.


Braddok kept two watch shifts instead of one. He was certain they were in danger. His strategic training led him to the most disturbing conclusion. If this was, indeed, an army of goblins…marching west…they were now behind the enemy’s lines.

Erevan, as usual, kept a vigil all night, silently watching and listening in the darkness.


During his watch alone, there was a momentary break in the cloud cover that revealed the partial silver greater moon, Arinane. The elf looked around at his, then sleeping, companions and back to the moon. The silver light glistened against the tears that welled up in his violet eyes and streamed down his cheeks.

The slightest of rustling in the night air caught Erevan’s ear and the elf turned with a nocked arrow to see Fen looking with sadness (or was it pity?) upon him.


The elf lowered his bow to his half-blooded kiiri. Before Erevan knew what was happening, the two embraced and held each other tight, silhouetted in the silver light.


The clouds, again, closed and the two elf-blooded companions continued to hold each other in the near-complete darkness.

Don't split the party!!!

The following morning, the mood at camp was grim. Haelan attempted to lift spirits by making breakfast, using up the last of the fairly stale bread and final few sausages he had packed from Shoal. The sounds of songbirds filled with early day.

Fen nibbled on a handful of bright red and black berries he’d gathered

“It may be unwise to cook such savory delights, friend Hilltender.” The druid mused. “We are nearing the woods and hills known for bears in this country.” . His attention seemed drawn to a jay that had alit on the branch of a silverleaf tree handing out over the river. Its leaves had turned their dark green, the metallic silver edges of the leaves dulled to the deep violet of the late summer. The leaves will drop soon, thought the druid.

Haelan looked concerned for a moment before retorting with a broad smile, “Well, you can just talk to them and invite them to join us for breakfast, then.”

Duor huffed a short chuckle. Even Coerraine smiled.

Alaria had her nose in the small leatherbound spellbook of the elf mage while the halfling cleric cooked. She had learned in its pages he was named “Lethyllis” and belonged to “Eres’ka Staliirosta” <elvin: “House Starwatcher”, literally “those who watch the stars”> . Her inquiry as to if Erevan knew or had heard of him was met with a silent negative. The elf tracker did note, after a moment, that Eres’ka Staliirosta was the ruling house of the province of Evandrial, Miralosta’s most eastern region, though he had not heard of anyone named Lethyllis in the royal family.

Braddok brooded through much of the morning and ate in silence. When most of the party was finished with their morning meal, the western swordsman spoke.

“We should move away from the river and proceed with all caution.” He began. “The goblin army is somewhere between 1 and 2 days ahead of us, now. Thieir size will cause them to move more slowly than our group…and an army, even of goblinoids, needs a lot of water.”

This was mulled over by the group. Alaria did not like the idea, siting the river was their best chance to a) arrive to Welford ahead of the army and b)arrive at Welford more speedily. The completion of her errand was never far from her mind. “If we arrive at Welford before the goblins pass by, we can perhaps save some lives.”

“Or aid in the town’s defense,” added Coerraine.

“True, magess. But we no longer have a way to move upriver.” Duor pointed out, paying no mind to the paladin’s foolish assumption.

“We could make a raft.” Haelan offered.

“We could.” Conceded Braddok. “But sitting on a raft in the river is a great way to get us all filled with goblin arrows when we pass the army’s position.”

Alaria admitted this was not a pleasant prospect.

“Besides,” continued Braddok, “we have no indication the goblins are going to pass Welford. If they are heading for Miralosta, as you and Erevan suggest, they may pass by the hamlet without even knowing it is there.”

Braddok had a point, Alaria admitted. However, given the state of the elvin outpost, the prospect that the force might pass by or through Welford was not one any of the party wanted to dismiss.

Finally, Erevan weighed in, “If they are headed to my people’s realm, they will encounter the stronghold of Evandrial in the eastern wood.” He turned purposely toward Alaria. “Milady, if we can get before the enemy, I must continue westward to warn my people of the coming invasion.”

Alaria nodded. “Of course, Erevan. We will do everything we can.” Alaria has always been fascinated with the elves she had met. Erevan was no exception. She had studied their tongue since a young age. She felt an affinity for them and their legendary skill in magic-use. She also admitted to herself that the prospect of actually seeing or visiting the elvin land would be a most welcome experience she had not even considered as part of her foray into the realms beyond R’Hath.

Braddok was not at all concerned with the possible problems for Miralosta and made his position clear. “Alaria,” he began gently, “my lady, you hired us to protect you on your errand. Please allow us to do so. The decision is yours, of course. But I strongly recommend we leave the river. If we are set upon and it becomes necessary, we have no way to escape across or down the river. As a smaller group, we can easily overtake a large military force on foot…and gods willing, unnoticed.”

Duor had not thought of this and heartily endorsed Braddok’s position.

“But we also know we can’t be attacked by them from the river either.” Haelan pointed out. He cringed a bit at Braddok’s dark glare.

Alaria calmly packed the small spellbook back away in her pack with her own. She thought a bit before realizing that everyone was looking to her to make the final decision. Braddok’s argument was sound…but she desperately disliked the idea of slinking through the wood on foot in, what she had to consider, “enemy territory.” She felt saddened and defeated that all of the time to be saved to arrive in Welford now seemed to, again, be denied her.

As if in answer to her distress, Fen interrupted her thoughts. “Look there!” the druid pointed upriver. Slim barge floated aimlessly near the middle of the river.

“The gods are smiling on us, Alaria. Perhaps it is a gift from Tyris for getting her pearl for Tidemaster Kama!” Haelan enthusiastically suggested.

All in the party were forced to admit, it was a happy coincidence until they realized they had no way of retrieving the drifting skiv.

As it neared, Duor amended, “Not Tyris, hairfoot. Looks more like Desri.”

The mood was again darkened as they noticed a body slumped over the side of the vessel, the upper half dragging through the water. A number of arrows could be seen protruding from the corpses back. More arrows were visible sunk into the side of the barge and the few barrels that seemed to be its cargo.

“Here.” Said the dwarf plainly. He handed his length of elvin rope to Erevan and set to tying the other end of it to his normal length of hemp.

Erevan looked distractedly at the rope, then the dwarf.

“An arrow, yeh daft…” Duor quelled his tongue. Even the rock-thick skull of the dwarf felt pity on the elf for the severe loss he had suffered the previous day. “Tie it to one of yer arrows and drag it over here.” He finished as kindly as he could muster.

Understanding flashed on the elf’s face and a moment later, the archer was taking aim. His elvish skill was unquestionable as the bolt flew steadily into the prow of the barge. Gently, Erevan and Coerraine led the barge to the riverbank some distance downstream from their camp.

Sure enough, the bargeman had been an elf. The barrels, several of which at leaked their contents through holes made by goblin arrows, had begun to fill the floor of the barge with the golden elfvine wine, so treasured in the Freelands and R’Hath. Laying out of view, on his back on the deck of the shallow barge, another elf was peppered with goblin arrows in his chest. A bow and mostly empty quiver lay beside him.

Coerraine and Haelan, again, bowed their heads and began funerary rites of their respective religions.

“They’ve been dead ‘bout half a day.” Duor observed after a quick examination of the bodies.

Alaria and the others looked at Duor in shocked question.

“I’m guessing!” defended the dwarf, “I’m no physician.”

Further examination, lamentably for Duor, revealed they held no treasure but a few silver coins stamped with the large tree with a circle in the tree’s leaves and topped by a . This was the symbol of the Miralostae nation. The dwarf handed the coins to Erevan. “I can’t do anything with elf coins,” reasoned the dwarf to himself.

“Probably traveling in the night,” reasoned Fen. When he received some questioning looks, the druid explained, “The Moonwatcher elves are prone to travel at night. They prefer it and it is safer,” he looked at the bodies, “…usually. As I understand it, anyway.”

Erevan confirmed Fen’s statement. He added it was part of the reason that humans rarely encountered elvin merchants or travelers outside of human lands. His people, if they left the security of Miralostae at all, preferred sticking to the woodlands and waterways whenever possible.

“Erevan,” Haelan began gently, “shall we burn them like we did the others.”

“No.” said the elf plainly. This raised some questioning eyebrows.

“Erevan’s right.” Braddok offered. “Setting a pier now, in daylight, could attract notice.”

An hour or so later, the elvin winesellers entombed in a shallow grave near the riverside, the party discussed their next move. Alaria refused to pass up the prospect of speed that using the barge allowed them. Nor, she added, would she seek to offend whatever deity it was who offered them this chance.

The problem became logistic. The barge, even without the barrels, was not large enough to carry the whole party.

It was decided Alaria, Coerraine (who refused to be separated from his duty to his charge) and Haelan would take the barge and proceed by water, staying as far to the opposite bank as the river would allow. Erevan, Fen and Duor would proceed on foot, staying near/within view of the river to better be able to allow assistance or signal for aid if they needed it. The elf tracker, half-elf druid and dwarvish rogue were sure they could move with speed and stealth through the woods. Braddok insisted he would be able to keep up. Erevan insisted, due to Braddok’s armor, he (and Fen if he wanted) move ahead of the band on foot to better survey the region before them…and better keep silent away from the chainmail clad warrior.

Coerraine declined Braddok’s offer of his bow. He admitted, somewhat sheepishly ,that he was not trained in the art of archery. This troubled Braddok, but Alaria assured that the spellcraft of herself and Haelan would offer them ample defense should they be assailed from the riverside. And in the event of goblin arrows, Coerraine’s armor and shield would prove invaluable.

“Here.” Said Haelan offering him the crystal vial with the pink potion. “Take this. You may need it and I may not be able to reach the shore in time if you require healing.”

Erevan nodded a silent thanks and carefully stashed the magical draught in on of his belt pouches.

“How far are we?...from Welford.” asked Alaria.

“As best I can tell, my lady, 3 days.” Braddok answered. “And if Duor is correct, and I believe he is close to it, we will run into the goblin force sometime later this afternoon or evening.”

Alaria nodded in understanding. “Are we ready, then?” she asked.

“Where’s Fen?” said Haelan as he clumsily fell into the barge.

The other looked around. “Where’s the dwarf?” added Coerraine, his voice full of suspicion.

Neither the druid nor the rogue were in the vicinity of the barge…nor the camp.


Fen moved swiftly into the woods, spurred onward by the occasional glimpse of the bright blue as the jay flitted from branch to branch, away from camp. His movement through the brush hardly making a sound. Finally, the jay came to land on the thick branch of an oak that stood in the midst of a shadowy glade.

Unbeknownst to the druid, he was trailed by Duor. The dwarf thief had been the only one to notice the tail end of the druid’s cloak fade away into the green and brown of the woods while the others discussed how the party would be split. Noting the druid had stopped moving, Duor silently dropped behind a large bush and peered cautiously through the leaves to where the druid stood.

Fen pulled the deep hood of his cloak up over his head, set the end of his spear firmly into the ground and bowed his head.

To Duor’s amazement, the bird seemd to bow its head in return and fluttered to the forest floor. No sooner had its feet reached the gound then did the bird seem to stretch and change into a pillar of green light, about the size of the druid. When the light subsisded, where the bird and light had been stood another figure, no taller than Fen, similarly garbed in a deep green cloak, its face shrouded in the shadowy depths of the deep hood. The figure also held a spear with a similarly leaf-shaped blade, like Fen’s. Then Duor noted the cresent-moon-within-a-sun clasp holding the figure’s cloak.

What followed was a series of the statements in the cryptic tongue of the Ancient Order. Duor strained not to hear the syllables assaulting his brain. Determining he would be unable to either withstand the audible assault or understand any of what was being said, the dwarf decided to preserve his sanity and slunk back as quietly as he could to the rest of the party.

What follows is a translation of the conversation between Fen and his superior in the druidic tongue:

“Greetings Fen of Moonglade.” Said the figure. The voice was distinctly feminine.

“Greeting, sister Sage.” Replied Fen, not raising his head. “What brings the Mouth of Moonglade to the Laklands?”

“You, of course, my pupil.” Replied the figure. “I bring word from the Lord of Ash. He commends you on negating the troublesome influence upon Dragonbone Isle but warns your mission is far from over.”

“I suspected as much.” Fen answered. “I have learned there is an army of goblins and other servants of evil making approach to the elf-land of Miralostae.”

“We know.” Responded the Mouth, nonplussed. “I have been sent to tell you that it is of the utmost concern to the Lord that you continue on this course. The forces of the Chaosbringer are moving to increase their power in a way that can only spell the destruction of the Balance and the realms.”

“You know what it is they seek?” Fen answered with surprise. He lifted his head and looked at the druidess.

The Mouth of Moonglade‘s own gaze shot up in a scowl to the neophyte half-elf.

Fen quickly bowed his head again, forgetting himself.

“I…My apologies, Sage, I did not mean…” Fen stuttered.

The emissary of the Ancient Order continued without further comment on Fen’s breach of protocol. “We are near to an answer. But it is clear, the forces of this 'Bulgruch' must not be permitted to enter the lands of Miralostae.”

“Understood, mentor.” Fen answered humbly. “Can you tell me…” the red-headed half-elf began.

In another flash of green light, the Mouth of Moonglade was gone. He looked about to see any other creatures around him. He didn’t see any.

With a sigh, Fen made his way, with equal silence and grace through the woods back to the river.

As he carefully stepped out from the edge of the forest, he looked upon all of his companions staring at him in inquisition. Duor stood before them all, arm’s folded, with a smirk on his face. Even Erevan’s face seemed disapproving…in his own unemotional way.

“Care to tell us what that was all about, druid?” said the smug dwarf.

“My apologies, friends.” Fen smiled his most charming smile.

“We’re waiting.” Said Coerraine coldly. “I am not prone to trust the dwarf. I am less so for you, heathen. Duor tells us you had a meeting?”

The Duor looked pleasingly surprised to hear the young paladin actually use his name.

“Duor is correct.” Fen admitted. “I was contacted by my order. I am sorry that I cannot elaborate but…”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘The ways of Mistwood are not for the ears of men.’” Braddok interrupted. “Not good enough.”

The druid met the dark-haired warriors glare. His smile was gone and a stoic severity came over him. “That is correct, warrior. I am bound by my oaths.” The half-elf turned to meet the Redstar Knight’s gaze. “Something you can understand I am sure, Goldshield.”

Coerraine was taken aback by this deliberate accusation to logic. The young paladin could, in fact, understand that.

“Suffice it to say,” Fen continued, “we are on the correct path. This army is, indeed, a threat not just to Welford or Miralostae, but the Balance and the whole of the realms.”

No one had any reply for that.

“So,” Fen gestured with all elegance towards he barge, “shall we?”

“Very well.” Answered Alaria. “We make for the break of Imerlis. We will try to avoid contact with the goblin army and make for Welford at all costs. You continue to Welford on foot and meet us at the inn there.” The R’Hathi wizard thought for a moment. “Whatever it might be called. Surely it has to have some kind of accommodation. If you need us, Erevan knows the signal. If we need you, I trust, you will see.” The members of the party, including Fen, nodded their acknowledgement of the dire undertaking they were about to undertake.

Begrdugingly, the party split into their respective groups. Alaria, Coerraine and Haelan poling the barge out into the river and headed upstream.

Erevan looked to Fen. The druid simply nodded at the silver-haired elf. He turned to Braddok and Duor. Braddok nodded also and withdrew his sword.

As Fen moved off into the woods, the western warrior pulled Erevan close and muttered a simple two words. “Watch him.”

Erevan looked at the warrior, without emotion, and nodded a reply of his own. “Give us a hundred count and follow. If I see any trouble, I…one of us…will return.” Then the grey-green clad tracker took off into the woods.

Braddok scowled after the elf and half-elf, their movements almost immediately lost in the woods before them. He looked at Duor. The dwarf smiled an impossibly broad smile from his dark brown beard. Braddok shrunk back from the disturbing visage of the smiling thief.

“Well, fellow treasure-hunter, as ‘Mr. Secrecy’ said….’Shall we?’” Duor answered Braddok’s with a bow and a flourish. “I’ve counted to 100…dwarves are great with numbers.” Duor gave Braddok an evil looking smirk and wink.

Braddok looked at the barge, edging its way slowly out into the river and moving before them. When they were, what he believed to be beyond bowshot, and nodded. “Alright, let’s go.”

The warrior trudged ahead of the bowing dwarf. Duor rolled his eyes. “Ugh.” Mumbled Duor, “Ye need a bit of humor, my friend. If we’re to die today, I’d rather do it with a smile.”

Braddok seemed not to hear, so Duor trotted off behind the wide strides of the swordsman.

Though the location of the elf and half-elf were lost to them, the human and dwarf stuck close to the river, never venturing further than a few widespread trees into the woods, never losing sight of the barge that held their “employer.” Braddok trusted that, at least, Erevan was not far from the river either. The druid, whom he had just begun to think of as a member of the group, was on his “suspicion” list again…”I’m getting as bad as bad as the bloody Redstar,” thought the warrior to himself.


Metal clanged against metal when Braddok’s longsword met the hobgoblin captain’s shield. One goblin soldier from the rear scouting party lay at his feet. Braddok winced from the cut in his upper arm he’d sustained from the hobgoblin’s last attack. He mentally chastised himself for being sloppy in his defense after felling the goblin spearman. His father, Braddok thought, would not have approved. Odd, his mind still reeled as he ducked a powerful swing of the captain’s serated broadsword, haven’t thought of father in month’s. Braddok’s next jab struck deep into the captain’s uncovered yellow-orange thigh.

“Yeah, let’s go by land.” Shouted Duor as he easily avoided a slash from a goblin short sword. “That was a great idea, son of Barforth!” Duor slashed with his flashing green-lit dagger, similarly dodged by his opponent.

A ‘fipt’ and a thunk registered before Duor noticed the arrow in his assailant’s temple.

“Eh! Stick to yer own goblins, point-ear!” called Duor before another ‘fipt’ and thunk caused him to wheel about to see another goblin behind him, hand axe raised for a cleaving blow drop lifeless to his side.

“As you wish.” Said Erevan plainly, nocking his bow again in a single fluid motion. “Or, perhaps, my subtle dwarf friend,” Erevan’s bow twanged at an approaching goblin, “You should stick to the shadows.” The elf finished as he drew another bolt from his freshly replenished quiver.

“Oh! Like you would have seen that alarm tripwire!” called the dwarf as he fired off his handcrossbow into the leg of another goblin spearman charging Fen. The goblin faltered from the unexpected pain and Fen finished the creature with a swift stab of his leaf-tipped spear.

“He DID!” answered Fen, none too thankfully to the dwarf.

“Oh right.” Replied Duor, ducking behind Braddok and preparing to stab at the hobgoblin captain. “Like you didn’t put it there. Ye sneaky bird-talker!”

His boisterous approach noticed, the hobgoblin easy avoided Duor’s attempted “sneak attack.” The captain could not, however avoid Duor’s jab and Braddok’s slashing blade. The larger, stronger goblinoid looked in disbelief at the dark-haired human warrior who had just opened his side. A pointy-toothed snarl formed on his mouth before the creature stumbled backwards and dropped.

His leader and comrades slain, the final goblin turned and attempted to speed into the thicker underbrush. A ‘fipt’ is all he heard before falling face-first into the bushes.

Braddok wiped the black goopy blood from his blade. He looked upriver to the barge edging it’s way westward. “Let’s go.” The warrior took off along the riverside. Erevan and Fen followed without question. Duor looked at the fallen soldiers and then to his departing fellows.

“But…” said the dwarf. He looked at the goblinod bodies and wondered what riches they might possess. He looked after where Braddok at run, his companions were lost in the greenwood. “ugh. ‘Onward to glory.’” Duor mumbled the dwarven warcry under his breath. Then, he too, continued trotting after his companions.

...and just as a belated "WOW! THANKS!"

Tales of Orea has hit/topped 2,000 readers! Yeah, I'm probably guilty of at least a hundred or so of them...but I'm know there are a few people besides me.

So, THANK YOU very much for your kind attention and interest in my humble little story of the homebrew world noone knows about (unless you've reviewed my sig, anyway. hahaha).

Hope everyone is having fun, enjoying the spring and happy gaming!!!
--Steel Dragons

Welford at last!

Another day and night passed. Through a combination of Erevan and Fen’s skills of woodcraft, Duor’s skill in stealth, and plain old luck, the "Riverbank band" was able to avoid any further interactions with the rear-guard and foraging groups of the goblin force. When they came to the river that flowed from Lake Enkort to the D’Evand, they had the happy surprise of noting the massive amount of tracks, goblins, hobgoblins, zarx and wagons moving to the southwest.

This concerned Fen as his hometown was situated along the lake at the other end of this tributary, but supposed (and hoped) that the army would be making for the ford at Snake’s Cross. It was the easiest passage over/past the river, neither wide nor deep, easily traversed by the water-shy goblins and their supply wagons.

This boded very well as far as Braddok was concerned as it lent them an additional half-day (at least) to get ahead of the advance forces. “We’ll beat them as far as Welford for sure now.”

Erevan cast his disc spell and shuttled the companions, 1 by 1, across the wide and deep Enkort river near the D’Evand.

By midday on the their third day since leaving Silver Falls, including a welcome uneventful passage through the marshlands that extended west from the Enkort outlet, the landbound group came to where the river Imerlis came to the D’Evand.

Other than a momentary encounter with an overzealous river snake which was quickly run off by Coerraine’s skillful spear, the “Barge crew” continued without incident. Though at one point Haelan was concerned by some rustling reeds on the river’s north side…nothing came of it and Coerraine supposed it was nothing more than the local wildlife getting a drink. “Wish Fen were here to make sure,” replied the Halfling.

In the late morning of the formerly chilly night, the river was shrouded in fog which burned off slowly. Braddok and the others watched as the barge with their companions emerged from the mist like something out of legend. The barge came to a slow halt at the muddy opening to the larger river.

Alraia was especially happy with the news that the army had veered south to cross the last river and hoped their journey the rest of the way to Welford would pass without incident. “We’re so close.” thought the magess,. She toyed with the small parchment square for a moment which was their only reason for making this accursed journey. She looked again at the arcane markings surrounding Vertior’s seal in the wax. She observed one of the symbols was similar to something she’d seen in the elf mage’s spellbook…something she had not understood before. A shrinking spell, if she wasn’t mistaken. She tucked the parchment back in her waterproof scroll case and the reunited band carried on.

The terrain this far upriver was hilly without the luxury of the dense woods they had been passing through/by in previous day. Haelan, particularly, thought the landscape was lovely and did not wonder at all why anyone would choose to live in such countryside. As the afternoon lengthened, the hills became small mountains. Braddok was similarly please in this as it seemed that this would both hinder the army’s movement and increase the chances it might pass Welford without notice.

“Regardless,” Coerraine pointed out, “we must alert the people of Welford and help defend them if necessary. As well as carry on to Evandrial to warn Erevan’s people.”

“And we shall, Goldshield.” Said Alaria. The wizardess had become rather invigorated at the thought of traveling to the elf realm, aside from the fact that she was heartened by Erevan’s assertions that a warband, or even an army of goblins could never pierce the realm of Miralosta. If war were to break out, thought the mage, she would be in a well-fortified area as opposed to some farming village. She had not worked all of these years to explore the outer realms just to fall to a goblin’s spear on some dusty road.

Exhausted in the late evening, which were getting shorter by the day, the band crested a high hill to look down on a secluded valley full of plowed fields, neatly trimmed orchards, and pastures with sheep and cows being herded back to their respective barns. There was a small collection of buildings, some double-storied, sat at the far end of the vale. The “town” was not far from the shore of a broad and long lake and the whole of the vale was surrounded on its other three sides by high rocky hills...or “small mountains” according to Duor. It seemed the only entry to the community was over the relatively low hill they now crossed. Wisps of white-grey smoke rose from various chimneys across the valley as the chill of the coming night was already clinging to the evening.

“Welcome to Welford, my lady,” said Braddok with a bow and flourish. “Your task is near complete,” he added with a smile.

“Shouldn’t be difficult to find a green witch.” Duor said.

“Don’t be silly, Duor. The witch isn’t actually green…I mean, is she Alaria?”

Alaria grinned at the innocently gullable Halfling priest. “It can wait til the morrow. And no, Haelan, I do not believe so...but you never know” She added with an uncharacteristic wink. “First, we must find the mayor or whoever is in charge here and give them warning. Then, I think a well earned respite in front of a proper fireplace and some hot meals.”

This bolstered everyone’s spirits and the group made their way through the winding dirt road to the town at the western side of the valley.


A simple polite inquiry to some curious farmers brought the band to the “Inn at the Lake” at the eastern edge of town.. While Duor and the druid garnered some curious staring, the rest of the group seemed not to draw any attention. Friendly waves and smiles and “Good day to you” were met with similar well-meant responses.

They arrived at the inn first. A nondescript two-story building of timbers and stucco separated a bit down the road from the town, proper. Outside the structure hung a simple sign shaped and painted to look like a frothy mug of ale.

“Yes. This’ll do nicely.” Smiled Duor.

Unoriginal names aside, the common room and tavern were comfortable looking with two separate fireplaces (neither as large as the grand hearth of the Ruby Scabbard, but filled the room with welcome warmth. Scents of baked goods and grilled meats filled the inn's lower floor.


They acquired rooms for Alaria, the two human men, Fen and Erevan did not object to sharing a room and a final one for the dwarf and halfling to share. To the shorter folk’s delight, the innkeeper was pleased to tell them they had couple of “Stout-folk” rooms available which were not currently in use.

All of the group was happy to drop their gear and raise their flagons and glasses. The elfvine here, Alaria noted, was of better quality than that in Hawkview. "The ale's not dwarven." said Duor with mock disappointment. After his second lengthy gulping, he amended, *Hic* "But it'll do."


The rooms on the second floor offered some pleasant views of Lake Imerlis over the lower buildings nearer the lake and below the slope on which the inn sat. The innkeeper was savy enough to make sure the “fancy lady” had one of these rooms, as did the elf and half-elf. The others were positioned directly across the narrow hall, at Coerraine’s insistence.

After securing their boarding, and some quick refreshment, Alaria, Coerraine and Braddok went to go see “Constable Bertram” who the innkeeper, a portly man in a heavily smeared and stained apron named Grahm, instructed them would be the man to see about any possible “trouble.”

The inquiry about "who was responsible for any trouble in town" rose a questioning look from the man who answered, “Are yeh ‘specting trouble, good travelers? The Lake Inn is no place for trouble, just good hearts looking for good cheer.”

“We hope not.” Answered Alaria with a soothing smile. "We simply wish to share soem news from the road."


The innkeeper merely nodded and added, “Ah, well that’s a breeze off the lake <a local idiom meaning “good news”>. What with the witch gone missin’, the folk have been a bit on edge these past days.”

This caused Alaria to stop dead in her exiting tracks. Braddok and Coerraine shared a concerned glance.

“Did you say, ‘the witch has gone missing’?” questioned Alaria. “You don’t mean the Green Witch…the Green Witch of Welford?”

“Indeed. The very same, miss. Not been seen since Arinane <the greater moon> was at her fullest.” Replied Grahm.

“It’s only been a few days since then,” offered Braddok, attempting to calm what he was sure was Alaria’s saddened heart. He was incorrect…about calming and about her being sad.

The wizardess from R’Hath turned to the kindly innkeeper, her scowl dark as a stormcloud. “I’ve been traveling through danger and death for over TWO WEEKS to deliver a package to the Green Witch and you’re telling me she’s not even HERE?!?!” the air around Alaria shimmered and sparked with arcane energies.

Grahm shrunk back, his eyes wide. He raised a small round wooden tray to his mouth, as if the meager “shield” might protect him from an onslaught of magical fury. “I…I know not…” stumbled the poor simple man, “ I know not where she might be. Only that she’s not been seen.”

Braddok grabbed Alaria by the shoulders and gently edged her towards the door. He smiled an apology to the innkeeper. “Apologies, good ‘keeper. It has been a trying journey, for my lady. We’ll go see Constable Bertram now.” Then, partly to Alaria, “He might have some information where the Green Witch might be found.”

The charged air around Alaria subsided and she allowed herself to be “led” from the inn, shaking Braddok’s hands off of her as they returned to the dirt road that continued into town.

Haelan, Duor and the elf-folk settled into their chairs and enjoyed their respite…which for Duor included twice more ale than the rest and for Haelan included twice the food.

The humans found Constable Bertram in his office, as Grahm had instructed. He was sitting at a desk in a large open room that seemed to take up the whole of the building's first floor. There was a small barred cell to one side. it was empty.


A “deputy” guardsman was there also at a desk closer to the front door. He asked for the party’s names and business and presumed from their "heaavy arms" that they were there for a "permit."


They were instructed that open carrying or use of weapons, “including the use of magic, magess” was not permissible within the town without a permit and they were wise to come “check in” with the office. Annoyed but uninterested in argument, Alaria paid the fees. "Of course, the good Redstar Knight” was most welcome to lend his skill to the town's guardianship as he saw fit and need not pay the fee. Coerraine bowed and thanked the deputy for this honor. The mention of the Hilltender, Haelan, garnered a chuckle from the deputy. The constable smiled and waived his fee saying, “Sure, the halfling priest is fine. Anything else we can help you with, travelers?”


Braddok opened his mouth but was unable to utter a syllable before Alaria jumped in, “Where is the Green Witch? I have urgent business with her from my master.”

The deputy looked to Bertram. The constable returned the look then looked to his desk and said softly, “I’m afraid we do not know, my lady.”

“Well have you investigated? Where does she live? I have urgent business! I must find her!” Alaria said a bit too excitedly.

Bertram held up his hands to calm the wizard. “I see that, my lady. And would be happy to help. But it is not unheard of for the lady Rhea to go afield at a moment’s notice. Welford is ever in her debt and appreciative of her company and power. But she does not answer to us.”

“This has happened before?” asked Coerraine, attempting to direct attention away from Alaria, around whom the air was again beginning to shimmer.

“Indeed.” Returned Bertram. The deputy spoke up then to say, “Her ladyship is a good friend to the Dragonmage and has often lent her counsel and wisdom to his cause. It it likely she passed into Daenfrii. But she always returns after not much time.”

“Time neither I nor Welford have, I’m afraid.” Said Alaria, glaring at the deputy.

This led to the explanation of what they had found at Silver Falls, and what little they knew of the goblinoid force making its way, presumably, to the realm of the Miralostae.

This did not sit well with the constable at all and he asked the members if they would bring their whole band to meet with the mayor the following morning.

Alaria agreed after the constable told them where the cottage of the Green Witch was located (on a lonely hill north of the town near the northern mountain). “We will come to your meeting after we have investigated the witch’s cottage ourselves.” She stipulated.


The constable agreed, adding that should any "harmful elements" arise in Welford, they should feel free to utilize any weapons or magic at their disposal. He stopped short of refunding their fees, of course. When Braddok asked about that, Bertram nodded and thought seriously for a moment. "IF what you say is so and you are able to aid in the defense of Welford in any meaningful way, I will be happy to refund your arms' fees."


Figuring this was good enough, the three adventurers returned to the inn.

The rest of the evening and night was spent trying to life Alaria’s darkened spirits. Disheartened she sought the comfort of her bed early. The rest of the company enjoyed the food and fire and drink and, eventually, attempted to drag the very drunk dwarf to his room.

Next time, "We're off to see the Green Witch..."

We're off to see the Green Witch...

The following morning, Alaria was the first to rise. She went downstairs and enjoyed a spiced tea and some fresh bread and honey-butter for her morning meal. It was not the flavor she was used to from R’Hathi spiced tea, but warming and pleasantly aromatic. Coerraine was the next to descend the small staircase and, at Alaria’s instruction, eturned to the second floor to rouse the others. The R’Hathi mage hadn’t even let him order a morning meal first. She was a woman on a mission…and that mission was ending today. They fought a goblin horde that afternoon, so be it. But she was dropping off her package and ending her “apprenticeship” once and for all that morning.

Haelan was the next to bound down the stairs, “bright-eyed and bushy-toed” as the daelvar saying went. His armor and shield were gleaming, pinecone-shaped made at his side, a welcome of “Faerantha’s blessing” on his smiling lips as he entered the inn’s lower/tavern level. He joined Alaria at the table she had chosen and promptly, and sickeningly politely, ordered 3 eggs, 2 sausages, toast and some more of “that wonder honeyed butter” which he simply had to get the recipe for to take back home. Grahm’s daughter, Inya, was busy with the few other patrons having their breakfast, but promised Haelan she would get it for him. She was a lovely dark-curled thing…like Alaria’s color, Haelan noted, but significantly more wavey. She was not much taller than Duor and just beginning to get her “woman’s shape”, probably not more than 13 summers, Haelan supposed offhandedly.

Coerraine returned, his face was rather blanched. Alaria noticed but was unconcerned. Haelan also noticed and, naturally, was concerned.

“Did you see a ghost, Goldshield? I do hope it wasn’t in this lovely place. It is a glory of a morning…and I’ve not had my breaky yet. “ Haelan joked. His jest became real concern when the paladin did not answer. “Coerraine? No ghosts, right?”

The paladin nodded and smiled, “Uh, no, Hilltender. No ghosts.” He waved down Inya for a modest repast of toasted bread, a slab of ham and simple flagon of water.

Braddok followed. Then Erevan. Then Fen. Erevan’s face was stoic, yet “handsome as ever” thought Alaria. Fen had his charming smile and casually greeted the company, hoping they’d all had restful nights. He made a special point of throwing an arm over Coerraine and wishing him, specifically, a good morning. The Redstar Knight frowned at the overture. “As well as any.” was his curt reply, quickly taking a giant-sized bite from his toast.

Duor slowly seemed to “climb” down the stairs. He plopped himself into a seat and ordered “Any dwarvish spirit ye got.” To the questioning looks from several of the assembled group he jokingly retorted, “The spirit’s got to bite back.” <a dwarven colloquialism that roughly translates to “I need some hair of the dog”>

Braddok explained to Alaria. R’Hath was not known for having many dwarves and the R’Hathi magess did not at all understand the comment.

The company ate quietly and quickly, since Alaria was finished and ready to go find this cottage of the Green Witch.

They thanked Inya and waved goodbyes to Grahm in the kitchen, promising to see them for lunch.

As they moved through town, they caught several stares and none-too-concealed glances from the people of Welford going about their morning business. Travelers were not unknown to Welford, but such an array of mixed races, with arms, was certainly uncommon. Several curious children giggled and ducked from barrel to corner to alley watching the band walk purposefully through town to the path that turned off in the main road where Constable Bertram had directed them would lead up to the Green Witch’s cottage.

They journeyed for nearly a league, far above and away from the town’s main street. The woods had gotten thicker here and the northern mountain which shielded the valley loomed high in the none-too-far distance. After a couple of hours, they came to a sloping glade, the far end of which revealed a large (but not very) thatched cottage seemingly built into and around the trunk of a great bronzewood tree.

The tree’s leaves were already very golden and Fen mentioned that they would fall within the week.

Alaria, unfaltering, led the troupe up to the arched front door of the domicile. The whole of the company stopped and lurched back, drawing weapons, when a booming voice came from a set of lips that formed above the door as Alaria stepped on the thickly woven “Welcome” mat.

“Leave here! The Green Witch is not home. You may not enter. Come back tomorrow.”

Duor gripped his head, "Gads, not so bloody loud!"


Alaria, initially startled by the voice stepped up to the door again and said defiantly to the lips, “I am Alaria Staver of R’Hath on errand for my master, Vertior. I have come a very long way and would see the Green Which now!”

“Vertior, say you?” replied the lips to everyone’s (including Alaria’s) amazement. “You may enter.” And with that the lips disappeared and the door swung open.

Alaria entered without hesitation, Erevan and Haelan close behind her. Braddok entered and the door swung shut. At this, everyone except Alaria began to panic and Coerraine, in particular, began pounding upon the door.

Alaria moved to one of the windows next to the door and motioned for those outside to relax and calm down. When everyone had stopped, she took stock of her surroundings.

The front room of the cottage was much as she expected. A room like any herbalist or apothecary she had ever seen. Countered and tables full of various beakers, bowls, and pots and pans. An array of dried or drying herbs lined the rafters of the ceiling. She recognized most of the plants as being useful for various medicines and potion making. A doorway, with no door, led to another room beyond the one they were in.

Haelan made the sign of protection of his goddess when he came across a row of various animal skulls and bones assembled in many different patterns. “Alaria?” the Halfling asked quietly, “I really had thought before, but…this Green Witch of Welford…she’s a good witch, isn’t she?”

Alaria examined some writing on the parchments strewn across one table with a marble mortar and pestle upon it and replied offhandedly, “Of course she is, Haelan. My master would not send me into harm’s way.”

“Any more than he already has?” asked Braddok. Alaria looked to the warrior without humor in her eyes.

“Hello? Rhea? Are you here?” called the wizard.

Alaria and Erevan noted the charge in the air…magic was afoot.

Suddenly, before and above their heads green light flashed then swirled and eventually took form. The form settled on that of a lovely woman, with long dark brown hair, straight and thick, like Alaria’s. The visage had large brown eyes with long dark lashes and arching brows. The appearance of an emerald green teardrop sat directly in the center of her brows and the whole of the face was surrounded by a bright green glow.

“Alaria.” The face said. “Vertior said you would be arriving. Give me a moment.” And the face disappeared.

Even Alaria was unsure how to proceed. “Don’t touch anything!” she hissed at Haelan who was reaching toward one of the bushels of herbs.

A few moments later, a figure emerged from (what they presumed to be) the back room of the cottage. It was a, presumably, human woman shrouded in a bright, emerald green, high-collared cloak and gown. She had a youthful face…looking no older than Alaria, herself. She wore, most notably, a golden diadem that had at it’s center a teardrop shaped emerald that dangled in the center of her brow.

“Welcome, my dear. Well met.” She said with the same alto voice that had addressed them moments before. “I trust the road was not too difficult, Alaria Staver of Ablidon. ”

“Greetings, Rhea of Welford. I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I must confess, I am a bit surprised. The townsfolk indicated you were not here.” Alaria began. She added, “The road was…a bit inhospitable for my tastes, I must admit.”

“Well, yes. I know.” She motioned to a kettle on a grate that sat over a pile of kindling. The wood sparked into a fire. “Can I you or your company some tea?”

“None for me, thanks.” Answered Haelan. Leaning over to Erevan, the halfling added, "Well, she's not green."


"No, she most definitely is not." replied the warrior, somewhat spellbound by the woman's beauty.


Rhea smiled at the daelvar cleric.

“Braddok Kar Barforth?” the lovely woman said turning to the warrior.

“How do you know my name?” answered the swordsman. He had all faith in Alaria and understood that “magic happens” but he was uneasy with this admittedly lovely figure knowing him.

Rhea chuckled softly but did not answer.. She collected some small wooden cups near the kettle. “I am sorry we couldn’t help as much as we would have liked.”

“Wha…?” began Braddok before Rhea cut him off.

“I understand you have a package for me, my dear?” she said looking sidelong to Alaria.

Snapped into attention by the direct address, “I, uh, yes.” Alaria fumbled for her scroll case and withdrew the small folded parchment. “Master Vertior bade me deliver this to you….Oh!” she reached into the case again, “Along with this message.” Alaria handed over the rolled up scroll and parchment square.

“My thanks Alaria of Ablidon. You have done your master proud. ” Rhea lifted the top of the kettle and pinched a few fingerfuls of some dried herb into a small metal ball which she then dropped into the kettle. She cauight Alaria's eyes directly, with a knowing look, “And Vertior is rarely proud.” She smiled. “Would your friends outside care for any tea?”

The door unlatched and swung part of the way open. The remainder of the company stood outside, looking unsure. Alaria waved them to enter and passed on Rhea’s offer of tea.

All declined as politely as they could. Duor and Coerraine opted to not enter the cottage at all.

“I assue you, gentlefolk. I have no plans to harm you.” Rhea assured. "Welford is a place of peace and rest. I would not see it otherwise."


“You still haven’t told us why the townsfolk think you’re ‘missing’.” Braddok asserted.

Rhea calmly poured four cups of tea as she answered Braddok’s inquiry, “My comings and goings are not the townsfolk’s concern….” She looked sidelong at the swordsman, “which I am sure they told you.”

She handed a cup to Erevan and Haelan, Alaria, walked passed Braddok, and handed the last cup to Fen. She returned to the kettle and poured herself a cup.

“It is not my place, lady,” Alaria said, “But I have come a very long way and survived many trials. Might you share what it is I have risked life and limb for to deliver unto you?”

“And is it something we can use against the goblins?” Haelan added.

“Goblins?” Rhea said, turning to the halfling in mild surprise.


She looked to the rest of the party and then spoke again, “Ah. I see. I fear not, friend hairfoot.”


Without another word, she broke the seal of the parchment square and unfolded it, letting the contents slide into her palm. It appeared to be a thick ring of smooth grey stone. A moment in her hand and it expanded to the size of a bracelet. Rhea held the stone circle up to her eye and peered through the hole at the party. She smiled.

“What is it?” asked the ever-inquisitive Alaria. “I’ve never seen such a device.”

“It is a mode of divination, my dear.” Rhea said as if this were explanation enough. “You must return at Sorilorr’s height and I will show you…and you, master Erevan.”

With their travails, Alaria had not really been noting the moons’ movements and realized, almost second nature, that the lesser moon, Sorilorr, would be full that evening.

“My apologies, lady,” said Erevan, “but do you know me?”

Rhea smiled again. “My dears, I am the Green Witch of Welford. I know many things.” The cryptic sorceress took a sip of her tea. She continued before any more questions could be made, “You are welcome to Welford, one and all. Now go rest yourself. I know your journey has been long.”

The party chose to accept this “invitation” to leave. On her way out, Rhea said over Alaria’s shoulder, “You have done well, Magess Alaria.”

The R’Hathi wizard stopped momentarily in the frame of the doorway and a broad grin formed on her face.

On the way back to the town, the smile still upon her face, Duor asked why she grinned so.

“I am free.” Said Alaria.

The Green Witch had addressed her as “Magess”, the full acknowledgement of a fully trained magic-user, free of any apprenticeship, a spell-caster in her own right not subject to any other. Alaria felt she might float through the hills on her joy. She was her own wizard to do as she pleased for the first time.

Her elation would not last long, but for the remainder of that day, Alaria felt as though she were the Archmagus Imerius, himself.

steeldragons said:

The Green Witch had addressed her as “Magess”, the full acknowledgement of a fully trained magic-user, free of any apprenticeship, a spell-caster in her own right not subject to any other. Alaria felt she might float through the hills on her joy. She was her own wizard to do as she pleased for the first time.

Her elation would not last long, but for the remainder of that day, Alaria felt as though she were the Archmagus Imerius, himself.

Click to expand...

I love those kinds of in-character rewards. Not necessarily even something big, but an acknowledgement that the character has accomplished something... especially when it's also important to the PLAYER.

Really cool. I'm enjoying Orea.

A mage, a paladin and a halfling walk into a bar...

They checked in with the Constable’s office and met the mayor, Brethel Oakenshield.


Duor found this humorous since the lord of the dwarves on the southern kingdom of Daegun was named "Oakshield." He supposed, quietly to his fellows after the meeting, that the mayor must be an honorable man to have dwarf blood.


The Constable reported that he had doubled the watch and sent scouts to “the lea” which was the way the party had entered the valley. The men of the guard, all 10 of them (the mention of which Braddok and Coerraine shuddered in their armor), were put on alert and other men of the militia were being gathered and armed. The mayor nodded his approval, but, he added, he would like to alleviate any hysteria among "the commonfolk... should the strangers’ claims be false."

To this, Coerraine stepped up and gave witness, “I have seen their atrocities with my own eyes, Lord Mayor. I have fought one of their foraging parties. They are very much, I am sorry to say, a real threat to all in this area.” The Redstar Knight’s testimony was taken quite seriously and the mayor made the added proclamation that messengers be sent (via boat) to Welford’s “neighboring” towns on the south side of the lake. The mayor was also greatly relieved to hear the Green Witch was in her cottage.

Braddok inquired about the size of a fully rallied force of Welford.

“We have the Constable, Deputy Skot, the 10 trained men of the guards and the milita…which would number, fully rallied, at 120.” The mayor answered. “More than enough to hold the lea…besides, we have the Green Witch...and yeh lot! Looks like ye could tousle a few goblins, eh?” the mayor guffawed.

“Well,” Alaria felt compelled to mention, “we will not be resting long here. In fact we will likely make our way at dawn to carry word to Miralosta.”

Brethel frowned. “As you will.” He grumbled. “Yeh’ve done us a great service by bring us word. But yer welcome to stay long as yeh like.”

With that, the meeting was closed and the group went about their day.

Haelan was happy to return to the inn for “lunch” though it had been only a couple of hours since their morning meal.

Alaria suggested he and Coerraine venture to the “Gods Hall” to pay respects and surmise what help, if any, the local clergy might be if a fight came to Welford.

Fen excused himself to wander the surrounding lands. He promised to rejoin the group in the evening if Alaria wouldn’t mind him joining her to return to the Green Witch’s cottage (even though he, specifically, had not received an invitation to return).

Coerraine grumbled some objection that the druid would “abandon” them in this time of possible need.

Braddok pointed out to the paladin that there were watches in place and the goblin horde was easily still a day behind them. Coerraine was forced to see the swordsman’s reason.

Erevan politely asked Alaria’s leave to continue to Evandrial alone and meet them there. Alaria was reticent, but conceded, wishing the elf safe journey and gods’ speed. Erevan thank her with a deep bow and a kiss on the hand.



"Felin sa elati, Alaria Arkanis." he said to her. <literally translated from High Elvin: 'Dance in your joy, Magus Alaria"> Alaria smiled and blushed, despite herself. She felt herself fall into the elf's violet eyes and thought for a moment she might swoon from the happiness of her newfound freedom...not to mention Erevan's good looks.


He instructed them to the quickest route to Evandrial. She promised they would follow the next day.


With another quick kiss to her hand, he walked away with Braddok heading toward where they'd been told by Constable Bertram the weapons- and blacksmith shop would be found.


Alaria, still floating in the joy of being her own mage, assumed they were safe for the day and invited everyone else to do as they would for the afternoon and regroup at six bells at the inn for dinner before they were to return to Rhea’s abode.

The party divided up the remnants of the treasure they had from the harpies’ hoard and went their separate ways to shop and explore the hamlet.

Erevan replenished some arrows before he left, including one claimed to have been enchanted by the Dragonmage, himself. “Fire it at a giant and the creature will fall,” asserted the weaponsmith with a large smile.


Braddok left his swallow-tailed hawk emblazoned shield with the smith to have the dents of their previous encounters knocked out.


The elf and swordsman exhanged glances.


"We'll be there," said Braddok. Erevan nodded, his face dispassionate as ever.



The two grasped arms and parted ways. "Be careful", Braddok said wuietly to himself when the elf had gone.


The dark-haired westerner turned and went to find deputy Skot to survey the arms being doled out to the militia, figuring he might lend some expertise.


No one noticed where Duor had wandered off to. He was gone before the party parted ways outside of the meeting hall.




Coerraine agreed with Alaria’s suggestion but felt it a neglecting of his duty to leave her alone in an “unknown” town. Alaria assented to join the halfling cleric and Redstar Knight to the Gods Hall. Then, she insisted, she be allowed to do some shopping of her own. The paladin had no complaint about this.

The Gods Hall of Welford was a simple stone building with a high-peaked roof. Engraved in the stones of the arched entryway were the symbols of several deities, including the waves of Tyris, the 8-pointed star on a shield of Celradorn and the budding rose of Gilea, among others.


It was common in communities in the Laklans and Freelands, that had no specific or dominantly popular temple, to erect a "Gods Hall" so that travelers and priests of many faiths might have a place to offer sacrifice. The presence of one in Welford interested Alaria as she assumed such a rural community would be (primarily) devoted to Sylari, goddess of the harvest and weather as well as “nature” in general.


When she mentioned this to Haelan who was eagerly trying to name the symbols on the arch, it was Coerraine who answered.

“As I understand it, milady, the nature priests of Sylari do not worship within any man-made structure. Their rites are all conducted out of doors, on hilltops usually. At least that is how I have been told.” Said the paladin.

“That is so.” Haelan was happy to chime in. “The worship of Sylari is very similar to Faerantha, though we are not so stubborn as to brave the elements when they are inhospitable.” The halfling smiled.



The magess, Hilltender and Goldshield entered the long narrow structure. Set into each side of the building was a series of alcoves, four to each side. Within each was a small altar and either a statue or other symbolic representation of an individual deity. Between them, they were able to pick out alcoves for (along the left from the door): Celradorn, the Golden Defender, god of battleskill and guardianship; Manat, the Blue Star, goddess of magic; Jasralne, the Maiden, goddess of Spring and Love; and Tyris. On the right were alcoves dedicated to Gilea, the Merciful Mother, goddess of healing, motherhood and fortitude; Dunric, Smith of the gods, patron of smiths and craftsmen of all types; and Irion, the Crusader, god of the sun and protector of travelers.


An acolyte in simple brown robes was adorning the last alcove on the right in swathes of fabric of bright green and orange. A large copper disc with a green quarter moon enameled within it sat on the small alter. This one Alaria recognized, easily, as being devoted to Sorilorr, the All-knowing, god of knowledge, the mind and the lesser moon.

At the far end of the single long room was a small dais and a larger alter.



An elderly man in robes of harvest gold was instructing another two acolytes, one in a simple forest green tunic and brown breeches and the other in brown robes, in the adornment of the altar area. A large bard’s harp sat behind the alter on a long table and branches full of golden bronzewood leaves and dark violet leaves of the silverleaf trees were being arranged around the dais. Several sprigs of oak with acorns still attached were piled on the floor, yet to be placed.



Noting the gaze of his helpers, the hunched old man in gold robes turned to see the three adventurers. The man was almost totally bald with a beard of wiry grey, not the flowing silver white of Tidemaster Kama, but trimmed to chest level. A simple disc of bronzewood inscribed with the gold aspen leaf of Sylari hung around his neck, dipping just below his beard. On his belt hung a large ring with a number of keys. He leaned upon a staff of lacquered bronzewood that seemed to give off a golden glow in the sun that streamed through the large round window above the dais.

“Hail and well met, travelers. How may we serve you this day?” he said with a smile. “If you are come for the festival of Bysdan, I’m afraid you are a tad early.” He added.

“Not at all, Father.” Offered Coerraine. “We are simply new to your charming hamlet and wanted to pay our respects to the Eternals.”

“Ah yes, well met, Redstar.” The man returned. “It has been long since this hall welcomed one of Celradorn’s chosen.” He looked the other two over. His eyes rested on Haelan for a bit. “And longer still since a Hilltender of the hairfoot-folk, as I recall.” He smiled a good-natured smile to the halfling. “You are most welcome here, gentle sir.”

Haelan returned the smile with a deep bow. “Thank you, ehm, Father…?”

“It’s ‘Prior’, actually. Prior Korin, at your service. Priest of Sylari and administrator of Welford’s Gods Hall.” He paused a moment, “And you, my lady, may be the longest absent of all. A mage of R’Hath is a rare sight indeed in Welford. You are searching for our Green Witch, no doubt? I here she’s flown away again.”

“Thank you, Prior Korin.” Alaria answered. “We have already met with her. I am Alaria Staver of Ablidon. This is Hilltender Haelan Spurthistle and Goldshield Coerraine.” Alaria paused for a moment realizing she could not recall Coerraine’s surname. Something for later, she thought.


“We are simply passing through. We have been on a long journey. I had not even considered that the festival of Bysdan would be so close.” she said.


“Ah yes, my dear.” Prior Korin answered. “Only two days time and so much to do. If there is not anything specific I can help you with, I invite you to use whatever altars you require. Each has a bowl for offerings and donations as you, good folk, see fit.” He smiled kindly. “I should get back to instructing my young hands, here.”

“If I may, Prior,” Haelan jumped in politely, “I thought the priests of Sylari did not worship indoors?”

The old man chuckled and nodded, “And you would be correct, friend Hilltender. I do not conduct rituals here, but as the senior priest and administrator of the Hall, it is one of my thankful duties to see it made ready for those who will.” Korin leaned towards Haelan and added a hushed aside, “We are not forbidden to be indoors, merely to practice our rites.” He gave the starry-eyed halfling a wink.

“Prior Korin,” Coerraine now injected, “I am sorry to keep you, but how many priests do you oversee?” The paladin wished to make no insult but was very much hoping there was more than the old man and three youths in town.

Korin thought for a moment before responding. “Well, that’s an odd question. You can see there is myself. Bern and Shek, ” he gestured to the to young men in brown robes, “aid me in the service of Sylari though they are not near priests yet, themselves.” He raised his staff toward the young man in the green tunic, “Tortham, here, is a devotee of the Minstrel. His mentor is the ranking priest of Bysdan in these parts, Harper Cressden. It is he who shall host the festival and necessary rites.” The old man stopped again and thought. “There’s Brother Berk of Sorilorr, Protectress Kaylie, their attendants…others come and go as their gods see fit...I suppose we are twelve of us, all told. Though only we four seniors are initiated for rites. Why do you ask?”

Coerraine seemed unsure how to answer, “How many of you are of spellcasting rank?” he said bluntly.

The Prior seemed taken aback by this inquiry. Alaria quickly interjected, “If we may, Prior, might we have a private word?”

The Prior’s face turned grave, but he nodded and with a few instructions to the young men to continue their work led the three party members through a door to the side of the dais which led to a small room.


It held a table and some shelves filled with candlesticks, incense burners and various other items that could be used in religious rites. Haelan was particularly enamored of a rack on which hung an array of robes, mantles, cowls and cloaks. They were, to Haelan’s mind, all of the colors of the rainbow, aligned in descending order, reds to oranges to yellows and so on.

Alaria explained the possible impending situation. Prior Korin listened, little shock was bretrayed on his face. He stroked his beard nervously as they finished their tale.

“Hmm. Grave news indeed. I am certain Brethel would be sending me word of this shortly.” The prior frowned a bit then continued, “To answer your question, Goldshield, it sounds as though only myself, Harper Cressden and Protectress Kaylie might be of use. Kaylie’s attendants might prove useful for healing,” he raised a hand, palm outward, fingers outstretched, and placed it to his forehead, “gods forbid it be necessary.” He lowered his hand back to grasp his staff. “But as you well know, the Daughters of Gilea will not fight. Only their chosen Protectresses are permitted to bare arms or do harm to others.”

Coerraine nodded his knowing agreement. The Daughters of Gilea were prevalent in his homeland of Mostrial. The skills of the Daughters’ healing, both natural and magical, were well known to him. He was also familiar with the ferocity and devotion of Gilea’s chosen ones for the sacred position of ‘Protectress.’ He thought back to his youth and the Protectress who had tutored him in various forms of non-lethal battle at his father’s keep. It was before he had felt the calling of Celradorn, but she had been an amazingly skilled instructor.

“And what of Brother…Berk, was it?” Haelan asked.

“Ah, well. Berk is a skilled scribe and wise priest. Very knowledgeable, as the servants of Sorilorr are want to be. He and the Green Witch are good friends, actually, and often philosophize for hours. Oh my yes.” The prior chuckled a bit before recalling what he had originally been starting to say. “But I fear his spellcraft would not serve our cause if war were to come to Welford.

“And I confess, I am a bit old to be very useful, myself. ” the Prior voice trailed off, “The stag only rules til the next, after all.” <Sylarian proverb, basically meaning he was past his prime. The younger more vigorous males replace the old or feeble.>

Alaria thought on this for a moment. “Prior, where might we find Brother Berk at this time?”

“I suppose he is back at the rectory. Right behind us here, across the park. He spends almost all of his time in the library there in his writing and study.” Prior Korin answered.

“Our thanks, Prior. Let us hope that none need use their divine power in the coming days for anything but fun and frolic as the Minstrel of Autumn would wish. We’ll keep you no longer from your tasks.” Alaria answered.

“The Golden Leaf bless us you are right, my dear.” The Prior replied. “My tasks now include meeting with the other senior priests and informing them of this news.” He bade them good day and showed them back to the main hall and went back to his decorating.


“No, no, Shek. The acorn boughs should be used to strew the chandeliers. Bring them down, and replace the candles while we’re at it. Tortham! Should I tell Harper Cressden that he need be here to ensure your participation?”

The young man in the green tunic leapt up from where he had been lounging, absently plucking notes on his harp to help the brown-robed Shek lower the large chandeliers.

The three adventurers returned through the Gods Hall. Coerraine stopped for some prayer in Celradorn’s alcove. Alaria, to Haelan’s surprise, entered the alcove of Manat, threw a few coins into the charity dish and bowed her head.


The magess, Alaria, said a silent prayer of thanks to the goddess of magic for the safe completion of her errand, the completion of her apprenticeship and the fulfillment of becoming her own woman.

Haelan watched as the acolytes continued about their decorating, smiling to himself. When the paladin and wizard returned from their alcoves, the three went around the back of the Gods Hall and across a rectangular nicely manicured lawn lined with silverleaf trees, now plumed in violet leaves, some beginning to fall and scatter across the grass.

Across the lawn stood another stone building, this one two stories, long and narrow with narrow tall windows on both levels. The shale tiling on the roof a mixture of cool greys and blues. An arched double doorway of reddish wood with black iron fittings faced “the park.”

Alaria headed for the rectory with Coerraine and Haelan in questioning tow.


Next up, "Brothers, Baubles and Black Skies"

"Oh Brother."

Braddok made his way through town to where the deputy, Skot, had informed him the hamlet’s store of arms were kept. He made good natured conversation with the guards there and Skot arrived shortly after him to fill-in and begin some instruction with a few militiamen who had answered their summons.

The weapons in the armory were not of the best quality, Braddok noted, but not terrible either. He noted, in particular a few maces and spiked morningstars. Recalling his blades ineffectual attacks on the crab-demons, Braddok asked Skot if he would part with one of the morningstars in better condition.

A short bargaining ensued and Braddok happily agreed to do some simple sword instruction for the non-warrior militia. Braddok enjoyed training with the men, recalling his own vigorous training in the keep of his father, lost in his youth.

He was also pleased with his newly acquired morningstar. Skot seemed an amicable young man, not unskilled with his own blade and Braddok enjoyed sparring with the deputy to instruct the very serious- (and scared)looking few who had arrived to collect their arms, some barely passed the age of majority.

Most of the men who would make up the militia were busy in their fields, vineyards and orchards completing their harvests for the season. Skot was sure to impress on the farmers the importance of the men of weapon-bearing age coming that evening or, at latest, the following day.

Along with the instructive sparring, Braddok aided Skot and the other guardsmen in marking down who was given what weapons, which were presumed to be returned following any battles in the hamlet.

By mid-day, Skot dismissed the men who had turned up, instructing the armory guards to log anyone new arriving for a weapon and got Braddok to agree to return that evening for another “class” of instruction. The dark haired swordsman from the west added he would endeavor to bring Coerraine with him for some instruction in spear-fighting. The mention of instruction by a Redstar Knight seemed to impress several of the assembled men, as well as the official guardsmen.

Satisfied with his morning’s work, Braddok made his way back to the Inn at the Lake for, what he hoped was a filling hot home-cooked meal. About halfway back to the inn, a young man ran up to him, addressing the swordsman as ’Master Braddok, sir’, and delivered a note from the Constable. Braddok smiled at the youth and immediately read the note.


Seemed his lunch would have to wait.

He looked at brown-haired boy in simple clothes and said, very seriously, “Mark my words, boy, never travel with a dwarf.”


The boy answered “Uh, yessir.” as the swordsman trudged back the way he came, to the Constable’s office.

Alaria, Coerraine and Haelan entered the rectory into a room with a large table and many chairs. A few acolytes were setting the one long table within with modest tin plates and wooden cups.


The young woman who had answered the door wore white robes trimmed in red with a pattern of entwined thorns around the hems. The silver medallions sporting the budding rose marked her unquestioningly as a Daughter of Gilea, the goddess of healing, fortitude and motherhood.

She nodded a silent assent to their request to see Brother Berk and bade them wait in the entryway. A few moments later, the neophyte priestess returned and gestured them to follow her through the dining hall and down a hallway to a door that led to a modest sized library and scribing hall. Two orange-robed young men with shaved heads sat at desks, dutifully writing. Each bore a green waning crescent moon <resembling a “C”> on their foreheads. They barely looked up to notice the new arrivals.

The room was musty and smelled of dust and old paper. Alaria breathed in deeply and smiled slightly, her mind sent back to the libraries of her homeland in which she'd spent so much time.

At a writing table at the far end of the chamber, lined with rows of shelves containing books and scrolls, sat a middle-aged man, also garbed in orange with the green crescent marking on his forehead. His head was not shaved, but his hair receded a bit. A set of spectacles sat poised on the brim of his nose…Alaria thought of the kindly guildmaster, Magister Kurklani, in Hawkview.

The party stood in silence as the scribe-brother finished writing…whatever it was he was writing. He gently placed the plume in it’s holder and looked up.

“Yes?” the man questioned, some annoyance in his tone. “What can I do for a mage, a paladin of Celradorn and…” Brother Berk paused as he looked over his high desk down upon Haelan, “…a hill-priest? …Interesting.”

Alaria stated their news and asked if the Brother would be willing to conduct some augury for them to surmise if the goblin horde would come to Welford. The Brother listened to her, comlpetely dispassionate.

“The gifts of the All-Knowing are not lightly entered into.” He said, apparently unconcerned by the news. “Besides, since it seems to be precognition you seek, the lady Rhea is a significantly more experienced seer than I.” With this he took up his quill and dunked it into the inkwell.

Alaria, unsure how to answer, stood mouth agape.

“Is that all?” he said, looking over his precariously perched glasses.

“Um, well, there is also this,” Alaria added. She pulled the crystal orb from her pouch.

Seeing the orb, the brother-scribe’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. He lowered the glasses further down his nose til they sat just at the tip. His gaze intent on the crystal, he muttered, “Interesting.”

“We believe…” began Alaria, “We believe it is somehow important to the purpose of this encroaching army. Do you think you can discern what it is? I, myself, have been unable to divine its power…other than it is definitely magical.”

“And not evil in nature.” Added Coerraine.

“No, obviously not.” Said Brother Berk, a bit of irritation in his voice at the paladin’s apparently ‘mundane’ assessment.

“But should it fall into the wrong hands…and we actually got it from some very ‘wrong hands’” Haelan interjected, “might it be something dangerous?”

Brother Berk held out his hand. Alaria gently placed it in the Sorilorr priest’s palm. A breeze passed through the room, papers rustled and all present looked to the windows. All of them were shut.

“Interesting.” Said Brother Berk.


“Leave it with me.” Before anyone could object, “I will see what I can find in my tomes. Come back tomorrow.” He said pointedly.

“Due respect, Brother,” Alaria now said, having had just about enough of the man’s rude manner, “but we are to leave on the morrow. We have an audience with the Green Witch tonight. I will return for it after evening prayers to reclaim it.”

Brother Berk looked at the magess in surprise, the first real expression he’d betrayed.

“ Tell us what you can by then.” Bluntly finished Alaria.

At this the Brother’s expression softened and a thin smile actually formed on his lips. “Indeed, magess. As you wish.”

The trio nodded their thanks and left the rectory.

Haelan stopped a moment, behind the others, as they crossed the park/lawn on their way back to the main road through town. A rustle in the trimmed hedgerow caught his attention. From his vantage point, nearer the ground than his companions, haelan thought he’d caught sa glimpse of brownish black fur. It was bushy, like a fox’s tail, Haelan thought.

Alaria dismissed the halfling’s inquiries, supposing there probably were foxes in the area.

“What about wolves?” the hilltender asked woefully.

“Yes, Haelan, I would suppose there are wolves in the surrounding hills, too. I doubt any of them were seeking Brother Berk’s effervescent advice.” She retorted in annoyance and made her way back into town where the majority of the shops she’d seen had been.

“I…ok, well, I think I’ll head back to the inn for some lunch. Are you hungry?” Haelan offered.

Coerraine simply turned and shook his head with a shrug and followed Alaria, as was his duty.

Ok, you've had enough of a break. Get back to writing!

Seriously, I've been enjoying this SH and was missing it. If you're still interested in writing it, I am definitely still interested in reading it.