Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil

This is my first try at this story hour business, so cut me some slack. Constructive criticism is much appreciated and advice is welcome.

This game is run by a friend and fellow ENworld lurker xenoflare. Current party line up include:

Duo Human Rogue 3/Bard 7

Leonardo Truffont Human Fighter 7/Lion Rager 1 (from Oriental Adventures)

Sir Ingram Morius Human Paladin 6/Templar 2 of Heironeous (who else?)

M'aric Firenewt Sohei 8 (also from OA. M'aric is an NPC)

Aranjit Singh Human Druid 9

Zander Mandria Human Rogue 3/Fighter 4/Cleric 1 of Zuoken

Halvin Half-Orc Wizard 5/Circle Arcanist 2 (a Greyhawk version of the Harper Mage from Magic of Faerun)

Note to be made: This adventure started with level 1 characters, but only recently did I decide to compile our adventures in a story. It starts halfway, with everyone about a level lower than they are now.
++++++

This story is mostly in the 1st person perspective of Zander Mandria, my PC.

It all started a few days ago, when I was making a pit stop at one of my regular haunts in Furyondy. I was enjoying myself a quiet morning in bed with one of my 'on-off' partners, a minor noble's daughter by the name of Zara. As I rolled over on my back, hands folded behind my head, I found myself sleepily musing about what a nice life I had and how good it was to be me.

I also found myself jolted rudely into wakefulness when a very stentorian voice boomed in my head. "Sir Zander, you are required to make your way back to Castle Mandria for urgent business immediately, at the request of Lady Elizabeth Mandria,"

I sensed that the voice, which was of the family's personal wizard, Harold, was about to continue with the monotonous drivel, so I strove to cut him off by snapping, quite irritably, "What is this about Harold? Don't you realize that it's nine in the morning? Honestly, I'd have thought Mother would have been polite enough to contact me at a more godly hour!"

I could almost see Harold?s lips pressed into a stern line, as he registered my words through the magical link. Harold was a man of very rigid demeanor, all stiff upper lip and straight posture. He definitely saw my sense of propriety, and lack thereof, as a personal, God-given mission to fix. One which I was determined to make fail.

Awakened by my voice answering out loud to Harold, Zara turned towards me and draped her arm across my chest, kissing me on the cheek. "Good morning, love," she greeted, in a yawny sort of voice that I found extremely endearing. Zara was a woman of black hair, and sparkling blue eyes, with pale skin and a long-limbed, curvy body. She was on the thin side, but so was I.

At about the same time, I heard Harold audibly take a deep breath, no doubt to reprimand me in some way or another, as he usually did, as he had been doing since I was but a young whippersnapper knee-high to a kobold. As you can no doubt guess, I am quoting the venerable old relic. He abruptly stopped as he heard Zara's voice and as his mind - old, stuck some two hundred years back but still canny and razor sharp - fully registered where I was at the current moment, the link snapped close and I was left in silence once more.
I enjoy silence sometimes.
++++++

I spent another day with Zara; we went to a show, had dinner at the Promenade and spent the night strolling through town. I left early the next morning, riding at an easy pace, lute on my back, looking for all the world like a wandering minstrel. It was on the road that I met Xaod, a Paladin of Heironeous and wine-taster extraordinaire. (Of course, Xaod didn't restrict his tasting to wine alone. He frequently tasted ale, mead, beer and lots of other alcoholic drinks. I like to say that Xaod is a fair man.)

"Hello Xaod!" I greeted, in the cheery sort of voice that Zander (myself) was known for. I glanced at the way he came and put two and two together. "You just came from Hommlet?"

I first met Xaod in a seedy little tavern, extremely cheap, but with surprisingly good wine. (I use the word 'good' in as broad and general a term as possible). We had started a little conversation as I had noticed his knightly garb and the symbol of Heironeous emblazoned on his shield. Due to my background, which he, with the virtues granted to him by the God of War somehow intact despite the alcohol clouding his mind, managed to discern, we had begun as meandering talk about religion that had nothing to do with religion whatsoever.

In a different mood, I would have contrived to kill the addled bastard in his sleep. But fortunately for him, I was feeling quite amiable that day.

Anyway, the long and short of it was that Xaod got into a bar fight later on in the night; he earned my respect by using a very surprising tactic; he pulled a heavy lance - of the type mounted cavalry use to wreak havoc upon the enemies' infantry - out of his glove (it was one of the magical ones) and knocked a man silly with it. It?s not everyday that you see a Paladin, of Heironeous no less, do something like that. Zander has since immortalized that night in song.

Back to the story at hand; I only then noticed a man riding behind Xaod, a man dressed in outdated armor - the kind my grandfather wore. The man was strangely familiar - blond hair, blue eyes, a straight-featured face with a noble forehead and pride in his very pores. Upon further scrutiny, I noticed that he sported the lightning bolts of Heironeous on his tabard and shield.

He looked at me with an expression similar to mine; a half-remembered memory, a vague recognition that gnawed at the edges of your mind.

"Oh hello Zander," said Xaod. "You won't believe what happened at Hommlet,"

"I'm sure I will, Xaod, old friend," I replied, with a preoccupied half-smile, most of my attention on the strange knight accompanying Xaod.

"Good day sir knight," said I, voice full of polite curiosity, as one might be politely curious in such circumstances. "My name is Zander Mandria. You are?"

The knight frowned slightly. "My name is Sir Ingram Morius. Mandria, did you say?"

I ignored the question. "That can't be right. Ingram Morius is dead," I said, including a disbelieving chuckle, as one might be disbelieving in such circumstances. "Well, dead or missing. His body was never recovered from the great battle of Emridy Meadows some 20 years ago,"

"20 years?" the so-called 'Sir Ingram Morius' said, with a worried frown. "But that can't be! I- I- what happened?"

At this, Xaod sighed heavily, exasperation showing clearly on his face. Xaod was unlike most other paladins - he was impatient. "I told you so many times before. I found you in the old Temple, asleep. If you are who you say you are, then you must have been asleep for 20 years, and not aged a day," Xaod replied, his voice telling me that he?d said the same thing several times before.

Suddenly his eyes lit up and he perked up in a fashion that indicated he'd just realized something. "But if he's Ingram Morius, doesn't that make him-?"

"My uncle," I finished for Xaod.

The look of shock on 'Ingram's' face was priceless.
"Uncle? My sister?" he choked out. Well, he was fast; I had to give him that. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes. My mother's your sister. But how can I be sure you're really who you're saying you are? How do I know that you're not some... impostor?" I asked, letting some suspicion show.

"I'm not! I really am Ingram Morius!" he said, completely sincere. Well, as far as I could tell anyway; demons and devils were extremely good liars. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. They had ways of verifying the truth back home, and besides, the situation of the time lapse effect which preserved Ingram's youth in an ageless sleep was quite probable, if a powerful enough spellcaster bothered to target him. I had heard of a few, but I couldn't see a reason for them to put Ingram to sleep.

With that, we headed on home.
++++++

Along the way, we passed through a village that instantly alerted my suspicion the moment we took a step inside. The village was empty and deserted, though by the look of it, it hadn't been so for long. The livestock wandered in the fields, the crop was still tended and houses mostly looked like they were in the midst of being cleaned when the occupants left in a hurry. No more than an hour.

Suddenly there was the sound of running people, accompanied by screaming. Somewhere further ahead, there was the sound of the shrieking and neighing of a horse and its steel-shod hooves on the rough ground.
A crowd of frightened - no terrified - villagers appeared from behind what appeared to be a large barn, making a bee line for Ingram.

"Please help us!" one man implored of Ingram. As Ingram opened his mouth the reply, the thundering of hooves got closer and what I saw next I can never forget.

The rider was decked out in full-plate, studded and spiked, painted a gleaming black. The rider's visor was down, but the sight of the horse, with its blood-caked teeth and red eyes confirmed my suspicions.

Fiend.

It held a heavy miner's pick in one hand, shield in the other. Strange choice for a weapon, I remember thinking to myself. It held one hand aloft, even as Xaod and Ingram were readying their weapons. There was an explosion of sorts, a wave of hot black energy came down upon us and found its way into our pores and threatened to burn us from the inside.

I managed to leap clear of the blast, taking cover behind my horse. Ingram was quick enough to cover himself with his shield, although the unholy fires burned his arms and his back. Xaod was not that lucky. He was thrown off his horse as the beast reared and shrieked, and the paladin landed hard on his back, his face and hair singed. His tabard was charred and smoke was wafting up from the edges.

My horse's knees buckled and it fell. The villagers were nothing more than blackened skeletons. Only the man who had spoken to Ingram was left intact - even then, it was only his face that remained, a grotesque mask that spoke of horror and shock. Ingram looked at the dead man's pleading face in anger and drew his sword, righteous fury seeming to seep from his very pores. There - in the subconscious vision of my mind - I saw him glow with hallowed light, and I was cowed.

The fiend gave no sign of fear. As Xaod picked himself up from the ground, drawing his sword in the process, I scampered backwards, because Zander was supposed to be completely inept at melee combat. The fiend chuckled as Ingram readied his shield. It hefted its pick, and as if that was some sort of sign, the two charged at each other in a thunderous beating of hooves. They met in the center of the dirt road with a furious clash of metal. The fiend's mount bit at Ingram's untested horse. Panicking, the horse threw the Paladin and bolted, only to have two burning hooves thud into its neck, breaking its spine.

Ingram scrambled to his feet just in time to catch a blow on his shield. Countering fluidly, the Templar of Heironeous swept aside the fiend's shield with his sword and slashed at its iron clad torso. The glimmering blade - one I then recognized as the Morius family sword - clove into through the armor like it was paper, tearing the flesh and the muscles beneath. Even as Ingram pulled his weapon out, the fiend growled aloud in anger and slammed its shield into Ingram's chest. The blow was harmless, but drove the Paladin back a few steps.

And then Xaod acted.

I had seen the Paladin kneeling on one knee a distance away from me, muttering something to himself. Abruptly, a bright fire erupted about him, lighting him up as if he was some kind of celestial being. Deep inside, a more cynical part of me muttered, "Show-offs,"

Xaod rose to his feet with more grace than I could have credited him for and charged at the fiend, leaving a trail of blazing fire in his wake. His sword was raised high, the blade also glowing with an inner flame and he struck down upon the fiend, promising to smite it back to the stinking hells it came from.

As his sword flashed down, the fiend, in an almost careless way, turned the blade aside and sent Xaod stumbling. As the Paladin attempted to right himself, the fiend swung its pick around in a deadly backhand, and the sharpened end of the weapon pierced the back of Xaod's helmet and into his skull. I could not see his face, but I could very well imagine the look on it.

The fiend shook it weapon loose and spun it, flicking the blood and bits of grey matter off it. Xaod's body slumped to the ground, blood forming a small pool around his head. Ingram yelled a war cry to Heironeous and raised his sword to strike at the demon again, but I acted first.

Finally shaking loose my crossbow and loading it with trembling fingers, I fired twice at the fiend, utilizing a little trick I'd picked up in Greyhawk. I fired the first bolt, quickly reloaded and let off the second in such a way that the two bolts were in the same line of trajectory, so that my target would only be able to see one bolt, and not two.

But my fingers shook so badly that the second bolt struck the first and the two were sent careening into the ground. I growled in frustration and threw the crossbow to the ground, charging forward and drawing my rapier.

Ingram slashed at the fiend once more, but his sword 'clanged' off the thing's spiked armor. Suddenly, the fiend dropped its shield and tore off its helmet, revealing a pale, grey face of a once-human, filled with unutterable sadness. As I stared into the face - one that did not look the least bit demonic, I might add - I felt an overwhelming fear come over me and grief and a blinding light.

Suddenly Ingram cried out and struck at the fiend once more, snapping me out of my stupor. The knight had his shield raised and was covering his face with it, averting his eyes from the demon's face. I understood then. The friend's visage was a supernatural attack in itself, its gaze causing an unbearable horror to overtake the mind and the cause the heart to stop functioning, thereby killing the target.

I had been that target. The fiend had tried to kill me.

Now I was pissed.

I closed on the fiend, flanking it and waited till its defenses were occupied with Ingram. At the precise moment of time, I lunged and stabbed, piercing its armor through a gap in the joints and pushed through into its body. My blade entered its breast and punctured its heart. I pulled out my rapier and looked at the blade, completely unblooded.

Bloody fiends.

I leapt back, too far for the fiend to hack at me with its pick. Ingram abruptly changed tactics and stabbed at the fiend's horse. Even as his sword was about to inflict serious damage upon the horse, the fiend tugged on the reins, and pulled the horse out of harm's way. I was - to put it bluntly - quite impressed.

Not to mention scared.

I decided to follow Ingram's lead. It was a good idea anyway; drop the horse, get rid of one of the fiend's advantages. I stepped in, lanced my rapier's slim blade through the horse's neck and bounded backwards. The fiend snarled, its sad face contorting into anger for a short while. As the fiend's attention was divided, Ingram hacked at the horse and his longsword ripped into the creature's belly.

The horse shrieked in pain and stumbled, dropping. The fined jumped off the saddle and landed on its feet, immediately turning to Ingram and chopping at the knight with its weapon. Ingram fended off the fiend bravely, but the sharp, blood-crusted head of the pick broke through the Paladin's defenses, once, twice, thrice. In retaliation, Ingram scored a hit upon the fiend's torso, tearing the steel of its breastplate open. Viscous, black blood began to flow and the fiend pressed its attack ever harder.

Ingram managed to draw blood once more, but the fiend's pick pierced the Templar's suddenly brittle armor and smashed bone and tore skin and muscle. Ingram grunted, swaying on his feet, and fell. I started, and began to scramble for my rapier, despite the fact that it was useless against the fiend's supernatural skin. My eyes roamed our dirt battlefield, searching for a solution. It came to me in the form of a sword.

To be precise, Ingram's.

The fiend lunged for me, and I dodged aside, and then dove for the blade. Seizing it in my hands, I hopped to my feet and held the sword in a defensive posture. The fiend did the unexpected. It stared into my face, and I belatedly tried to turn away. But I felt a presence in my mind already and though I strove to fight it off, it was much too powerful for me.

"I have done what I came here for. Watch him die," the fiend rasped, its voice hollow and full of hate. I was frozen, held helpless, while Ingram lay on the floor, bleeding.

No big loss.

I figured that Ingram would be dead for about half a minute before the spell that held me ran out. If I had been the type to care, I would have been quite distraught. As things were, I wasn't the type.

But of course, Paladins are direct agents of their respective Gods and no matter how much you think that there are too many of them around out there, their God isn't going to waste one of them. I think it's a matter of divine pride, sort of like comparing the number of children you have, or the length of your... unmentionables.

Barely six seconds after the fiend had teleported away, had a man dressed in simple white robes appeared, walking down the street as if he didn't have a care in the world. He frowned when he caught side of my frozen figure and Ingram's bleeding one. He rushed to Ingram, shook his hand free of his voluminous sleeve and if I had been able to, I would have gasped - or done something along those lines.

The man's right hand was completely made out of ruby, but ruby that was alive and organic. It moved, it flexed, it pulsed. As I scrutinized his appearance as best I could without being able to move, I also noticed that both his eyes were pupil-less rubies.

The man held the ruby hand on Ingram's wounded side and closed his eyes, his lips moving quickly as he muttered an incantation. At about that time, the spell loosed its hold on me and I stumbled forward, dropping the Paladin's sword from suddenly nerveless fingers. There was a glow of red light, and for the barest of instants, a crimson red dragon superimposed itself across my vision.

Ingram stopped bleeding and his eyes flickered open, surprisingly clear. The man kneeling by his side continued his prayers, and Ingram's numerous others wounds began to close and heal as well.

A cleric, I deduced, though for the life of me, I couldn't figure out of whom.

Or what.
++++++

"Hello. My name is Alkain. What happened here?" the man with the ruby eyes asked, pushing himself to his feet and smiling genially at the both of us. His voice was cordial and friendly, the type of voice that was used to speaking often, in calm, gentle tones. His eyes darted back and forth, the type of eyes that bespoke of a man with a razor-sharp mind and a glimmer of excitement lay behind those eyes.

"We were attacked," Ingram replied. "Are you okay, Zander?"

I nodded distractedly, brushing his hand away from my shoulder. As I collected my belongings from the charred body of my mount, I noticed Xaod's lifeless form laid out on the floor, crumpled as though he was no more than a suit of empty armor. Behind me, Ingram explained the events of the past minute - it had happened that fast - to Alkain the mysterious cleric.

As my eyes roamed the bloodstained road, I noticed a glint of gold on the ground, half-buried in dust. I knelt to pick it up and saw that it was a locket that looked extremely familiar. Opening it up, a projected image of my mother, Ingram and the rest of the Morius family posing for a family portrait appeared out of thin air. I realized then that it was the same locket that my mother had, and through simple deduction, I figured that the locket belonged to 'Ingram'. But surprisingly, the paladin lifted an identical one from beneath his breastplate, meaning that someone other than him had dropped the magicked locket. Only members of the Morius family owned such a locket; all but two were dead. And I did find the locket quite close to where the fiend had made its hasty exit...

The day sped itself up, as if it, too, was pumped on adrenaline. The cleric and Ingram held some last rites for Xaod, and we had some sort of a funeral of him and the fallen villagers. I declined to give a eulogy.

We headed on, Alkain finally finding enough time to explain himself: "I was traveling the countryside, you know, seeing the sights, when I happened to stumble upon the two of you,"

I kept my tongue from lashing out and instead asked, "Are you a cleric? I don?t see any signs of your faith about you,"

Alkain smiled a smile that invited you to be his friend. "I am a cleric of the great Sardior,"

My mind raced, quickly flipping through the mental tomes I kept in my head. I did not know much about religion or the arcane arts, but Sardior I had heard of before: a dragon deity, one of the three children of Alamut, along with Tiamat and Bahamut. Where Tiamat represented the good of the metallic dragons and Bahamut the evil prismatic, Sardior was worshipped by the neutral and much-elusive gem dragons - as well as strange people like Alkain, it seemed.

That was about all I knew; no clue of his doctrine or the general purpose of his followers. Alkain seemed to be decent, and gem dragons are generally known to be nonviolent, so I was inclined to let him be. Furthermore, with 'Ingram' around (I was still unconvinced) I would find the chances of doing something untoward rather slim.

We talked as we sat by a river and cooked our dinner. Ingram spoke, in a rather convincing manner, about his disorientation of having woken up twenty years behind time and his fear (the first time I had heard a Paladin talk of being afraid) of being unable to cope with the changes and all the other consequences of being asleep for two decades.

I put in my two cents worth, which was little more than a crock of meaningless bullsh*t. Alkain gave several nuggets of wisdom, much of which seemed like an over-complicated version of "It takes time."

After discussing some theology and philosophy, I decided to turn in, leaving the two of them to continue their conversation. As my eyes closed, I found myself wishing I was in bed with Zara.

++++++

The next day, we walked to a small village that lay on the outskirts of Devarnish, maybe two days from the castle. There, we rested, bought horses and Ingram acted like only a paladin or cleric could by blessing the stable from which we bought our horses.

We headed down to the castle with little delay, Alkain all the while chattering in the background about life and nature. Ingram listened intently, as if it bore some meaning to his life. As skeptical as I was, I noticed that Ingram found the advice somewhat comforting and I shrugged it off. Everyone has their drug.

As we neared the castle, the guards upon the battlements called down to the gate and it swung open as our party neared. The four gate guards saluted smartly, and I returned the salute, trotting my horse in relishing the prospect of sleeping in a proper bed tonight. But as I cleared the way for Ingram and Alkain to enter, I heard the audible gasp from the gate guards.

At first, I thought it was because of Alkain's ruby eyes, but I then recalled that he had magicked them to appear as if normal. Turning around, I realized that they had seen Ingram and recognized him from the portraits.

The guard captain marched out to greet me, but upon seeing my so-called uncle, he froze. The captain had been in the same war so many of the family's men had lost their lives to, and he obviously recognized Ingram's features. The paladin smiled graciously and the captain sketched a shaky salute. Ingram saluted back.

We had similar responses inside the castle. Servants who saw Ingram's portrait everyday now saw the man himself walk through the halls. Ingram gaped at the portraits of himself and his brothers on the walls, in commemoration of their valor. We went to the dining hall, where I found my eldest brother Roland playing the piano. In there, the portraits were bigger, grander and more detailed, causing Ingram to nearly stumble. But he regained his dignity and his eyes scanned the room, before noticing the empty scabbard that lay on the wall underneath the portrait of Sir Alexander Morius.

With Roland playing the piano in the background, Ingram drew his sword and walked purposefully towards the scabbard, pausing before his father's visage for a moment. Though I stood about fifteen feet away, I imagined I could see tears in his eyes. Reverently, the last remaining member of the noble Morius family placed the family sword back in its sheathe and stepped back, fist clasped over his heart, head bowed in deference to the memory of his father.

I had to admit that even I was touched. Roland was still oblivious to our presence, concentrating on his playing. I unhooked my lute from my back and gave the strings a testing strum, before strolling over to Roland and joining in the performance mid-chorus. He glanced up at me, and grinned, his fingers dancing across the ivory keys without missing a single beat.

I smiled back and played the lute, letting myself loose for once. My life was, at times, so complicated and fraught with danger, that the chance to partake in a simple concerted effort of music seemed like the greatest of luxuries. After the song was over, the gloves were put on and the mask tied firmly in place.

It would be nice to not have secrets sometimes.
++++++

danger danger! high voltage!

hola guys, i'm running Monte's Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil module with some slight adjustments here and there, as you can evidently see from Chasmodai's accounts. Things remain similar enough, however, that there may be spoilers, big spoilers, for those of you who are playing a RttToEE game - so caveat emptor!



keep up the posts, Chas! -shameless bump-

Kill all those bastards...

What spoilers? Oh, you mean the parts when the whole party gets chopped up and fed to the fishes of Lake Stalagos...

A Chance Encounter

Roland's reaction was much similar to everyone else's. Having recovered with much aplomb, he ran upstairs and rummaged about his room, finally coming back with a wooden toy sword no longer that his prodigious forearm. (For those who have not seen my brother, he is huge). It was a toy that I recognized, and in the process of growing up, dreaded. It was the object of much fears and the source of many bruises. I had often wondered who had given Roland the damned thing and now, it seemed, I had my answer.

After some catching up (there wasn't much of that. How do you catch up with someone who was missing from your life for over twenty years?), we retired to our rooms and agreed to continue our conversation the next day.

The next day found myself being dragged to church in the middle of the morning, where I promptly fell asleep. Afterwards, we had a brisk breakfast and I finally had a chance to talk to mother, the reason for my being home.

Of course, she had to spend two hours talking to Ingram first, so I had time to waste. I spent it by catching up with my two rather eccentric brothers, Nathaniel and Windchime. Nathaniel was a scholar of the priestly sort and he was always found either hunched over a book, or arguing theology with a cleric of Joramy. Windchime was a lot more agreeable, even if he was strange. He was born as William, but he joined a monastery and changed his name. One usually found him in the garden, practicing the strange martial arts he picked up as a monk, or in the church, meditating.

As you may have noticed by now, I am, as they call it, the black sheep of the family.

++++++

Mother's request was simple. She wanted me to head down to the Kron Hills, find a place called Mount Stalagos and investigate rumors of a cult that was growing in the area. Roland, who was the one who usually went for such quests, was unavailable, as he had to undergo some sort of religious pilgrimage and his paladinhood required this of him. Windchime had other responsibilities, Nathaniel was unfit for such exertions and Arabella, my younger sister, was in Verbobonc to see a mystic for the disturbing visions that had been plaguing her lately.

Since I was the only one without any sort of responsibility, I had to go. As if this was to be some sort of comfort, Ingram was to go along with me.

Even as I found myself resigned to the fact that I had no other choice, another part of me was growing eager for another adventure. "Yes!" that part of me cried. "Go! Adventure! Test yourself! Push your limits! Get killed!"

It seemed that the other part of me was quite humorous.

We set off the next day towards Verbobonc, where I had a small house we could make our 'base of operations'. It was, perhaps, my most public of hideouts, and therefore the least likely to give away any of my secrets. "We should go see Arabella first," I said to Ingram as we trotted through the gates of Verbobonc. "She'd want to see you,"

As we made our way to the Graceful Swan, where Arabella was staying, a man came up to us and tugged on Ingram's cloak. "Excuse me, sir knight," he said, in a voice that didn't sound quite human. It was halting and artificial sounding, as if it was unaccustomed to speaking. "You must help me,"

I frowned at the man, whose face was shrouded by the shadows cast by his hood. I generally didn't trust men who kept their face hidden, and made to get rid of him at once, but Ingram beat me to the punch. "What is it? What can I help you with?"

Stupid paladins. "Uncle Ingram, are you sure we should do this?" I whispered into his ear.

"He sounds clean," Alkain whispered back at me. I sighed heavily. I was in no mood to get myself ambushed and if Ingram wanted to play the martyr, he was welcome to.

"I need you to help me find my master. He has been kidnapped by a man who calls himself Bleak. Please, you are a knight. You must help me," the man continued. The last two sentences were said in a plaintive tone of a man who had no other choice, but I could detect a certain tinge of wrongness in his voice. This man didn't sound natural.

"I will help you. Do you know where this Bleak is?" Ingram said, in the tone of voice only paladins could muster. Before the man could answer, I directed another question at him.

"Why haven't you contacted the proper authorities? I'm sure they would help," I said. The man shrugged helplessly, his shoulders moving in a mechanical motion.
"They cannot help me without proof, and I do not have any proof," he replied. "Please, you must help me," he implored of Ingram. All of a sudden, I found myself thinking of that man in the village and the fiend that galloped behind them. My hackles rose; I definitely did not want to face that thing again.

"Where is your master? Show us the way," Ingram said.

"Show you the way," I interrupted. At the strange look Ingram gave me, I shrugged. "Sorry. I?m not cut out for this. This is more your gig. Look, after you're done with the rescuing, head over to the Graceful Swan and look for me and Arabella, alright?"

Ingram nodded and turned to the man, who was already scurrying away, into the deep shadows of an alleyway. I moved my horse as quickly as I could in the crowded streets, silently saying a prayer for Ingram.
++++++

Not to be insulting or anything, but I was genuinely surprised when, barely two hours later, Ingram trooped into the Graceful Swan, Alkain and a young boy in tow. (The man had been asleep for over twenty years, and was still getting his bearings. I knew it was, in some way, a responsibility of mine to see that he adjusted well, but when a Paladin takes it upon himself to go on a quest, you don't stop him. Trust me; I?ve lived with one my entire life.)

The hooded man was nowhere in sight. Apparently, he had been telling the truth and had been looking for his kidnapped master. Well, you learn something new everyday.

I had introduced Ingram to Arabella, and translated for them (my sister is mute, and communicates using sign language) as they had an awkward conversation. Arabella was not even born when Ingram left for the war and the two of them had no fond memories of each other to speak of.

"Zander, I met a pair of fine gentlemen at Bleak's hideout. They helped me rescue the boy," Ingram said, gesturing to the sleeping child in Alkain's arms. "As a token of appreciation, I invited them to dinner. I hope you don't mind?"

"Of course not," I replied graciously, acting every bit excited to have guests for dinner (I wasn't really. But I had to put up appearances). "I'll get things prepared right away,"

That was the fateful day I met Duo, Leonardo and the rest of the 'Wild Bunch'.
++++++

Duo - also known as Karel Vichnyas - had a quest. It was a lifelong quest, one that would no doubt take his life someday. But currently, he was off on a sidetrack, wondering if it was all worth it.

He stood on the Fire Bridge, just outside the main complex of the Temple of All Consumption, set directly in the center of the caldera that was known as Mount Stalagos. The cultists of the All-Seeing Eye had committed some unspeakable atrocities before, but know, Duo felt that they had gone through a whole new level.

Before him lay the shattered corpse of Tobias Valdane, templar of Joramy. His armor was torn, his bones pulped by the huge wooden clubs of hill giants. A brave man, one who could command the force of the volcano and direct it outwards, becoming a force of nature that was nigh unstoppable.

Steam rose from the body and the armor, making it too hot to touch. It was an unnatural phenomenon, and the wild man Aranjit said that it was, "Only to be expected,"

Zook Fulham was also missing, no doubt lying dead in the small room of darkness and dread that lay within the complex. This place had taken too many of his friends and comrades and if he kept on, it would no doubt consume him as well. The Temple of All Consumption - how fitting.

There was some comfort in today's foray at least. Gracus lay dead, and the Fire Bridge had finally been cleared out. They conducted a funeral for Tobias, and Zook too, when M'aric the firenewt found his body. They looted the place, taking whatever they could carry back with them, and headed back to Verbobonc.

As they trooped through the gates two days later, tired and weary, the group split up to make business more efficient. Duo and Leonardo headed for Bleak's shop to sell some books they had managed to find; Aranjit and M'aric went to look for a place to spend the night while Donovan went home to the Zurin manor, returning to his wife, eight months heavy with child.

But it seemed that there was to be no rest for the wicked. They confronted Bleak on his motives and the necromancer turned on them. He fired off a spell at Duo, freezing him in a magical hold. Unable to move, Duo could only watch helplessly as several zombies appeared from the walls and began attacking Leonardo.

The Lion of Truffont fought bravely, but he was out numbered and Bleak kept throwing spells at the warrior, trying to break through his defenses. At the point when things seemed the most hopeless, there came the sound of steel ripping through flesh, a choked scream and the door broke down. In charged a man, blond, tall, imposing, his force of personality almost drowning out the entire room. He encased himself in shining full plate, a symbol of Heironeous stamped proudly on his tabard and shield.

The man stood side to side with Leonardo, fighting off the zombies one by one. As the press of undead came nearer, the man flung out a hand and channeled forth a blast of positive energy, fuelled from the very essence of Heironeous himself. A bolt of lightning spread from the man's outstretched hand and it danced amongst the zombies. When the smoke cleared, the zombies lay in a charred heap on the ground.

Duo was stuck in one position, unable to move or turn. As such, he hadn't noticed another man and a... construct dash into the room. The man, dressed in simple white robes, lifted a hand of ruby and flung it outwards. If Duo could blink, he would have. A dragon of shimmering ruby flew from the man's palm and swept through the remaining zombies, reducing them to ash.

The metallic construct dashed for one wall, easily evading the zombies. It struck at the wall, once, twice, thrice and the wall broke apart. Out tumbled a small bundle wrapped up in cloth, although Duo couldn?t see what it was.

Bleak, seeing that he was getting the losing end of things, decided to beat a hasty retreat. He activated a hidden door in the back of the chamber, casting one last spell before he dashed into the darkness. The room was suddenly covered in mist, a cold, chilly mist that seeped into their bones and threatened to freeze them from the inside.

Leonardo and the man in plate cut down the remaining zombies and they too, decided that it was time to leave. The rumbling of the building, and the few rocks falling from the ceiling seemed to persuade them to move faster somewhat.

In the chilly fog, movement was painfully slow. Duo, tucked under Leonardo's arm, could only watch helplessly, feeling useless, as Leonardo fought to raise his feet off the ground, one after the other. The construct, carrying the bundle in its arms, only managed to get to the door before its frozen joints gave out and it collapsed. The man in robes managed to catch the bundle before it fell, and as the cloth fell away slightly, Duo then noticed that a small boy lay shivering within it, sound asleep.

They ran out of the building, cutting down whatever undead resistance they could. By the time they got to the street, the spell on Duo had run out and he was once more able to move. As the building's roof fell in on itself, Duo looked at the Leonardo and then at the two strangers.

"Hello. My name's Duo,"

It was then that Duo met Sir Ingram Morius.
++++++

Sir Ingram,

Well met indeed. My name is Duo and great evil is afoot. No, I am not a ninja and I am quite certain that I am not the source of this evil. I am but a bard and an investigator, drawn into this web of evil.

Many have perished and perhaps many more will. Whatever, the cost I will not cease. Leonardo, himself, has been to Oblivion and back. It has taken us great pains to bring back his soul. It has only fuelled his commitment to see this foulness destroyed. I have commited myself to ridding the world of evil, as have you.

Aid us in our quest, to rid the world of that foul temple in Stalagos. A temple dedicated to a God most dark. We will need one of your faith and zeal.

The world sleeps unknowing of the dangers and evil about. I aim to protect this sleeping world. That the children may rest easier, that the womenfolk may sleep better, that the men may have solace after a hard day's work. That though they may not know of our existence, that though they have no thoughts of gratitude, they may rest knowing that the sun will rise again in the morning.

That is the pledge I have made. That is the pledge I will keep. And though many have questioned my methods, as have I, I cannot relent. I cannot return to the restful nights where ignorance is bliss.

My eyes have been opened to the horrors within. I have no doubt that a paladin like your goodself have seen much horror. I have had to witness the loss of many a good comrade. Even now, I fear to tell a friend of mine (Guy) what trouble I am in. For I do not wish to lose him as well.

My party has sacrificed too much to give up now. Join us, good sir. And let us pray to all the good gods that we might end this evil.

Let us finish this...

The Calm Before the Storm

Dinner time. I was in my sister's room exchanging some small conversation as we prepared. Guido stood at the door, watching silently, face impassioned. I respected Guido for his discipline and his loyalty, but he rarely talked, making it hard for me to get to know him better. As such, our exchanges of words were simply that - exchanges of short, terse words that held no depth behind them whatsoever.

He depressed me sometimes.

I sensed that Arabella was somewhat eager for the night to ensue. She fidgeted, which was quite unlike her, and there was a small smile on her face, an expression that had been missing from her fair features ever since the visions grew in intensity. I glanced at Guido. Catching my meaning, the Barrens native mouthed one name to me.

'Leonardo'.

I raised my eyebrow questioningly. Guido didn't reply. Damn stoicism.

Leonardo Truffont. What did I know about him? A minor noble within Furyondy, adopted son of the late Leandro Truffont, founder of the Truffont School of Fencing. Apparently the two of them got into an argument that escalated into a duel to the death. The reasons were kept shrouded in mystery, and no doubt several interested parties already know of these reasons and are only waiting to put it to good use.

"So Arabella," I said to her, my tone telling her all she needed to know. Her lips pursed in a prim line, and she gave me the long-suffering look little sisters have when they have over-protective older brothers. Four of them, in fact. In response, I threw her my best rakish, shameless grin. "What's this I hear about you and Leonardo?"

"There is nothing to talk about. I just think that he's a fine gentleman, that's all," she signed back to me. "We met at a ball, and we danced together. Its as simple as that,"

My smile grew wider, and I included a knowing look as I said my next words. "You like him, don't you?"

She turned away and decided to brush her hair instead. I looked over at Guido, persisting. "She likes him, doesn't she?" I asked him, grinning. It was nice to tease Arabella once in a while, to let her know that I love her.

Guido shrugged. "She likes everyone," he said blandly, stopping my game before I could even build up momentum.

I deflated, my bubble popped. The entire world was against me.
++++++

We met them, this strange group of men who had taken it upon themselves to cleanse the world of a great evil. Duo, their charismatic leader, a man who had beliefs and conviction enough to move mountains - though currently, one certain mountain was in his vision. He was fast, smart and well-read, a friendly sort of person with an air of leadership about him.

I thought he was a fool condemned to die.

Leonardo Truffont, the Lion. One glance at his handsome features and his powerful physique would send most women swooning. I was quite glad Arabella didn't swoon. This was a man who had a dark past, and was stupidly stoic enough to blame it all on himself. He was here because he had a duty and would die to see it done.

Another fool.

Aranjit, the wild man from the Barrens. He wore glasses, furs and leathers. A man of nature who was ambiguously gay. A contradiction. He was here because he was Leonardo's 'moral compass'. This one might survive, if he wises up.

M'aric, a... lizard. A big red lizard that walks and talks in a very earnest tone of voice. Here because... we never really got around to that, I was much too fixated on his tail.

We - actually Ingram - expressed his desire to join them on their quest, and he gave me an expectant look that made my mind explode for a second. Bloody paladins. I shook my head and smiled amiably.

"Oh, I won't be going. This crawling through mountains really isn't my thing," I explained. "I will, however, be sending a man down to accompany you. He's an... acquaintance, and I've worked with him in the past. Very good for this sort of thing. Oh, and my butler Halvin will go along to watch you progress and help you out a bit,"

"You won't be going?" Ingram asked, in a mildly shocked - and disappointed - tone. I shook my head again. "But you must go! Your mother requested you to, and I don't believe you are going to disobey her!"

"But I can't go! I'm terribly unsuited for this sort of adventure and I would probably just end up getting in someone's way," I protested, rather convincingly.

"Nonsense! You were trained by the best knights in Veluna! You can handle yourself better than that!" Ingram continued on.

"Let the kid stay at home. We don't want more people dead than is completely necessary," Leonardo's rough voice broke between us. He turned to me and winked conspiratorially. "Smart of you not to go. Stay at home, don't get killed, eh?"

I couldn't help but smile. Of course, Ingram was having none of it.

"How old are you Zander?" he thundered, bearing his entire force of will on my person. It was all I could not to give him a good one in the kisser.

"Um... twenty-two," I said, affecting a shaky voice.

"When I was your age, I was already fighting in wars!" Ingram shouted. The bartender looked at us sharply. "You're old enough to be a man, and by Heironeous' shining light I will make you one!"

"That's enough now, Sir Morius. If Zander doesn't want to go, there is no point forcing him," Duo, of all people, spoke up for me.

Well, umm, thanks.

The issue was resolved. I was not going, but I would be sending my aide, Halvin, and one of my many business acquaintances along with them to help them out. Mother did want me to do something about it, and doing something indirectly was better than not doing something at all.

We discussed our plans of action, speculating and theorizing on the locations of each Elemental Temple. We also compiled a shopping list of things we needed to buy and just before midnight, I made another announcement. "Perhaps we would like to move gentlemen. I did not rent any rooms in this establishment for the night and the owner might look upon us unfavorably for staying till such late hours,"

"Oh. Perhaps we should move out then," Duo said. "We still haven't found a place to stay, have we? I don't really feel like going back to the Ziran's manor,"

OOC - Donovan Ziran was one of our party members, a shaper. He was the son of Andrei Ziran, a successful merchant, and also the party's sponsor. The player had to stop playing the game due to outside responsibilities.

"Not to worry. I have a small house near the outskirts of Verbobonc that would be sufficient. If you would like, I can allow you to stay there indefinitely and use it as 'headquarters'," I replied. I saw a few people smirking or frowning at the vapid look in my eyes as I said 'headquarters'.

"That sounds good. Thank you for all your help," Leonardo said.

"No thanks needed. It?s the least I could do for such brave men," I said. "Now, if we would like to move?"
++++++

Night fell. The party discussed strategy and tactics a bit more, during which I zoned out. Professing exhaustion, I retired to my room and lay on my bed. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.