Whew, a long one tonight...hope you enjoy!
Chapter 4
Osterel led the adventurers a short way up the road before turning off onto a barely visible footpath that led downhill. Carefully picking their way down the slope towards the bottom of the valley, they saw a small camp nestled in a hollow on the hillside. A crude lean-to covered a sleeping platform made of rough planks that was large enough to accommodate three or four bedrolls. Butchered game hung from a wooden rack between two trees, and a carefully banked campfire smoldered at one end of the shelter.
Osterel ducked into the lean-to and rustled around near one of the bedrolls. She retrieved a leather satchel that with her spellbooks, then rolled up her bedroll before hoisting it over her shoulders.
Gillian looked up to Rhys as the chaond rooted around the campsite. “How do we know that we can trust her?” she asked gruffly. “She definitely has an evil aura about her, no matter how friendly she might seem to be now. Never before have I worked alongside a vile creature such as her.”
Rhys smiled down at the halfling woman. “Have faith, madame halfling, faith in our headstrong friend over there,” he said, gesturing toward Terenon. He has assured us that she will be kept under control, and though evil she may be, we will work much good with her.”
As the adventurers waited for their new “friend” to get her things together, Grundar pulled Terenon aside. "Can you find out what kind of resistance we can expect to face in Moskogg's camp?” he asked. “Also, we should try to get directions to the ruins ahead of time, in case anything happens to our 'friend' here. This time, we should have the element of surprise on our side. We should strike hard and fast."
The mage nodded to Grundar and moved to help Osterel with her equipment. "Moskogg's camp will be fortified,” he said. “We should discuss his defenses before making an assault on it. Do you know what resistance we will encounter?”
"There will probably be a dozen soldiers spread throughout the barracks area," said Osterel in response to Terenon's questions. "They've built two new buildings from some of the rubble there; one a kitchen and dining area, the other a holding cell for the rank-and-file prisoners and slaves. In addition to the soldiers, we'll probably have to deal with Slaver and Varra. Slaver's a big worg that Moskogg keeps as a pet, and Varra is Moskogg's lieutenant. She's a cleric of the Stormlord, Talos, who specializes in fire.
"Those are the only combatants I can think of. The barracks are about ten miles north of here. If we're all ready, we can head there now, though it will probably be past sunset by the time we get there."
"You are not healthy enough to take them on yet,” replied Terenon. “Besides, there are some other matters of import to take care of. If for some reason we should become separated, we need to know how to get to the ruins. A map would alleviate that problem, if you could supply us with one.”
Nodding, Osterel reached into her satchel and retrieved a pen and some parchment and began sketching a map of the area. The road the adventurers were on currently headed north for 10 miles before opening up into a small vale. A little ways therein, a path led off from it heading east. Further north, past a bridge over a stream, another road led east for a ways before passing by the barracks house. The road then continued out of the forest for a mile before finally ending at the Dungeon of the Ruins.
"The first eastward road in the Selskar Vale leads somewhere I have never been," said Osterel. "Flame Lord Moskogg always instructed us to stay away from the place, but I don't know why." She then indicated the Dungeon of the Ruins at the end of the trail. "That's where the Prison of the Firebringer is. I've never been inside, so I can't really tell you much about it."
Terenon accepted the map and handed it to Grundar with a wink. The elf smiled and put it within a fold in his robes. Moving over to join them, Allanon gave them a questioning look. “What’s the plan of action, chiefs? We should probably devise some tactics before we reach the barracks house.”
“Well, if we can arrive by night time, we should be able to cover our approach to the barracks,” said Grundar. “I suggest that we take out Varra first, then I can draw the soldiers to me while you all rain fireballs on them."
Terenon nodded at Grundar. "Yes taking care of Varra and the worg would be the first order of business. We would need to do it quietly. A silence spell, followed by a barrage of hold spells and charm spells from all sides, at once. One is certain to succeed. I have many a trick left up my..."
The mage’s jaw dropped open, and he seemed stunned for a moment before resuming. He shook his head. "That son of a bitch. I can't believe I didn't see it before." He moved off away from Osterel, bringing Grundar and Allanon with him. He whispered in low tones so the chaond could not hear him.
"They knew we were coming. She knew my name, before anyone mentioned it. We were set up."
Allanon nodded with dawning comprehension as all the loose ends began to fall into place. He hadn't trusted the merchant since he first laid eyes on them, and it seemed he was correct not to do so.
“Bandits indeed. We have to take care of this Firebringer first, before the cult releases him and he regains his strength. Then we can go back and have a little ‘chat’ with Thornridge. As for our battle plan, it sounds good. The only thing you're forgetting is the Flame Lord himself. What powers does he have? You'd better ask Osterel so we can be prepared."
"Flame Lord Moskogg is a half-breed, the offspring of a demon and a minotaur,” Osterel replied to Terenon’s question. He is a powerful cleric of the fire god Kossuth who oversees all of the Hidden Flame's operations in the Selskar Vale. It was he who tasked me with raiding caravans in order to capture wizards. Now it seems it is he who has betrayed me. We shall rain death upon him."
Terenon called the group together. Ten miles separated them from another battle, and he needed to establish what he could contribute to the fight. "I have a great deal of spells left,” he said. ”I can change most of my worst damaging spells from fire to sonic, which should penetrate the half-breed demon's natural resistance. I could isolate Varra and the worg with hold spells or a well place dome of force. In any event, we should prepare with protective spells just outside their camp. I can cast Arcane Eye to investigate the camp unmolested, just before we attack. I would be able to pinpoint exactly where everyone is so that we can set about our attack with accuracy. I will have Fly cast on myself and be able to take advantage of things from the air. The front line fighters should be bolstered with fire protection spells and be hasted. Try to keep from burning the barracks if possible. I am sure valuable papers or books could be kept there by the fire lord."
For the benefit of Osterel, he added, "The papers should help us in establishing the bastard's treachery. Let’s try not to kill any of the slaves. They still have value as property. Kill only Flame Lord Moskogg and those who serve him."
“Sounds like a good plan,” said Gill. “I will engage the minotaur and combat and see that he too is brought down swiftly and efficiently.” The other adventurers agreed with the plan, and set off toward the vale.
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The old stone road had led the party more than 15 miles from the Surbrin Way, winding along the steep foothills of the Frost Hills. To the west lay the impenetrable green Lurkwood, the sun just barely visible past the thick trees; to the east the Frost Hills--the southernmost sentinels of the Spine of the World--reared their snowy heads.
The road crested a pine-covered ridge, and before them spread a broad, forested vale. Filling the northern part of the valley was a cold blue tarn fed by a swift, rushing stream that spilled down from the snowy slopes. Dominating the center of the vale was a bare, steep hill crowned by a ruined fortress, and among the woods at its base laid a number of small, ruined buildings. Apparently a town of some size stood here long ago, but now the place seemed abandoned. The road descended into the forested valley.
The waning sunlight of early evening fell upon a disturbing sight. In a small clearing of recently cut timber alongside the road laid the charred remnants of what must have been a great bonfire. The whole place reeked of smoke and a more nauseating smell--burned flesh. A single black tree trunk rose from the center of the cold ash, with a blackened, skeletal figure still chained to it. Someone had been burned at the stake here, probably within the last couple of days. The skeleton faced down toward the valley below, clearly visible over the trees to the north.
Rhys’ eyes widened at the horrid sight. “What happened here?” he asked Osterel. “What did this poor soul do to deserve such a fate?”
Osterel regarded the burnt corpse with cool detachment. "This is the body of a woman who escaped from the barracks house a few days ago. She was caught by a patrol of Acolytes, and they brought her here and started building a bonfire. Flame Lord Moskogg marched the other slaves here and burned her at the stake as a lesson to them. He made us watch as well, in case we got any ideas about betraying the cult."
“I vow by Yondalla’s strength that the foul minotaur will not live through this day,” Gillian said, eyes burning with determination.
Osterel merely shrugged. “The road just up ahead leads to the ruined building Moskogg forbade us from going near. A little ways past that, the road will take us to the barracks house. We are about half a mile away."
"I wonder why Moskogg doesn't want people near that building,” mused Grundar. “He could be hiding something. I think we should at least have a brief look before heading to the barracks."
Terenon nodded to Grundar. "He's definitely hiding something, but let’s take care of him first; then we can investigate to our hearts’ content. Lead on Osterel,” he said to the chaond. “Bring us in close, but hidden.”
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The day passed completely to night as Osterel led the party over the stream and east through the woods. The stone road began to ascend toward a saddle between the barren knoll on which the old keep stood and the forested mountainside across from it. On the east side of the road stood the ruins of an old outwork or barracks house, the upper floors of which had long since collapsed. Close to this old stone fortification stood two newer structures, their crudely assembled walls made of stone from the ruins. .
The group stopped far enough away from the buildings to remain unseen. Terenon called for halt and cast a spell that created a floating invisible sensor that he could see through. The sensor flew through the camp and provided Terenon with visual data.
The cooktent was the closest building. Walls made of neatly stacked rubble and fieldstone formed three sides of the open-air kitchen and refectory. Kegs of ale, sacks of flour, and long racks for hanging game sat under rough lean-tos built against the walls, and several trestle tables were arranged in the sheltered area. A few bedraggled humans scurried about preparing food, while a female ogre draped in ill-fitting chainmail stomped about, bellowing at and cuffing those who moved too slowly. A pair of raiders in flame-blazoned hauberks sat at one of the trestle tables, drinking ale and gnawing on smoked meat.
More crude fieldstone walls enclosed the second building, a prison area. It was segregated into open-air cells by thick timber posts. More than a dozen wretched captives--humans, half-orcs, and dwarves--shivered inside these cages. Several wore tattered surcoats bearing the insignia of various merchant costers, while others seemed to be common woodcutters or hunters.
Beneath a ramshackle tent next to the cages, two humans wearing brown cloaks over breastplates with the twin flame insgina stood guard over the captives. An immense, vicious-looking wolf lied curled up nearby.
Most of the barracks house itself had collapsed, leaving 20-foot tall empty walls open to the sky. Much of the rubble from the upper floors had apparently been cleared out. The magical sensor flew over the roof and saw that the remnants of interior walls divided the structure into several partial rooms. In and around the ruins laid more than a dozen pallets in groups of four and five, each surrounding a carefully tended campfire. Five soldiers were awake and on guard, while three others and a woman with stark red hair were asleep.
The sensor passed into a large room to the east. The room had been cleared of all debris and appointed with tapestries of red, orange, and gold. An altar-block of gleaming obsidian stood near the eastern end of the room. Slitlike windows pierced the southern wall, letting in slanting rays of moonlight. A writing desk stood next to one of the windows.
A slender human woman wearing a noble's garb of gray and pearl arranged papers on the desk. Beside the altar stood a hulking minotaur with rust-red fur and eyes like balls of flame: Flame Lord Moskogg. Sinister runes scored his horns, and he wore a breastplate emblazoned with the symbol of a twining red flame. He carried a massive greataxe easily in one hand.
Terenon relayed what he had seen to the others. He looked to both Osterel and Allanon. "Both of you take up a position in the air. Allanon, if she needs a spell of fly from you ,please supply it. Both of you should start with Varra. She seems to be asleep around the campfire I mentioned. I can teleport Gillian, Grundar, Rhys and myself into the Flame Lord’s barracks and take him and the bitch there by surprise. I will teleport as soon as you two are in position."
Allanon turned to Osterel to set down their attack plan. "Okay, after we fly above the barracks, we should hover a few hundred feet up, but where we can see Varra. Then wait for my signal and when I give it, use your most powerful attack spell, a fireball or some such, directed at Varra. I will cast mine at the same instant, and unless she is very lucky, we will have taken one of their only two spellcasters out of the fight. After that, just fire at will.”
The spellcasters in the party began layering themselves in protective magic, ending with Osterel and Allanon turning invisible. "Let's go," Allanon said, and he and Osterel pushed off into the night.
Once they were out of sight, Terenon cast another spell, changing his body into an exact duplicate of Osterel’s. “If either Moskogg or the woman with him should escape, they will believe that it was her who turned on them,” he explained to the others. “Now, let us join hands and take the fight to these brigands.”
“Today is a good day for glorious battle,” said Rhys. “May Torm watch over us.”
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Allanon and Osterel glided through the air until they reached their positions above the barracks house. The wild mage cast a spell, and suddenly his viewpoint shifted to inside the building around the campfire, as if he were standing there himself. He pinpointed Varra’s location and smiled to himself.
“Osterel, prepare to attack," he said. He began to slowly chant under his breath, muttering a stormy incantation that seethed with the anger of a lightning bolt. Slowly, he used his mastery of energy to shift the incantation until it was as cold as the night air they were hovering in.
A bolt of snow and ice formed in front of him, then raced towards the ground far below. It impacted the prone Varra and a small storm of ice and freezing air spun around her. With a mind of its own, the storm jumped from her to the nearest soldier, eventually engulfing them all in its icy grip. Numerous cries of surprise and pain filled the air.
"Aw, they look rather cold. Perhaps I can warm them up a bit," said Osterel. She flashed Allanon a wicked grin before calling forth a small bead of fire at her fingertips. She hurled it straight down at Varra and watched it engulf her and the other soldiers, cackling evilly.
Between the cold bolts and the fireball, the soldiers never had any chance. The soldiers' screams were cut off as they did; Varra didn't even wake up, passing peacefully in her sleep as her body was ravaged by magical energies. The other soldiers in the barracks looked into the air in surprise as they scrambled to draw their bows.
Allanon felt the drain of the magic pull at him, but ignored it as they were not quite finished yet. He turned to Osterel, yelling, "Focus your attacks now on the soldiers near the barracks. I'm going to take out Moskogg's pet and his two slavers."
He grabbed some guano and sulfur out of his pouch and crushed them together in his palm while chanting the spidery words of magic. He altered this spell as well, building it up to its maximum potential. Instead of a bead of flame appearing on his finger, though, a tiny, wriggling fire ant appeared. Shrugging, he tossed the ant at his enemies and watched as a huge swarm of flaming ants exploded onto them. One of the soldiers died instantly; the other soldier and the worg were burnt and covered with ants. They screamed and howled in pain as they scratched at the numerous bites on their body before fleeing off into the woods.
The four remaining soldiers in the barracks fired at the flying Allanon, but their panicked shots went wide of their target. Osterel fired another fireball in response, knocking them all down with the force and energy of the blast. They didn't get back up.
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As Allanon and Osterel dealt with the foes outside, the rest of the group teleported directly into Moskogg's chambers. He snorted in surprise, smoke that smelled like fire and brimstone blasting out of his nostrils. The woman stumbled backward and fell out of her chair in shock.
Focusing his mind, Grundar charged right at the half-demon, performing a somersault to close in the distance between them and tumbling past the creature's reach. Getting up, he quickly stabbed the demon in the gut, piercing its thick hide and penetrating all the way to its stomach. The beast bellowed in pain as his entrails began to spill on the floor. Gillian rushed forward beside him and struck the monstrosity with her spiked chain, further opening the gash. Terenon summoned a glowing sword of force that ripped open a large hole in the minotaur’s back, and before he could even react, Grundar and Gill let loose a flurry of blows on his ravaged body. With a final bleat of protest, Moskogg collapsed to the floor in a pool of his own blood and viscera.
Meanwhile, Rhys had moved up to the woman and attacked her with his staff, but the weapon was deflected by the leather armor she wore beneath her robes. Seeing her master get slaughtered within the space of a few seconds, the woman decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Without a word or a gesture, the woman disappeared from view. Rhys swung at the empty air where she used to stand but did not find any purchase. Terenon merely looked at the dead minotaur in amazement. Less than twelve seconds had passed, and the battle had already been won.
