Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Enlishia looked out from the wall towards the distant ruined keep and thought again of Mandratan and Gevarn who had fallen there. It had hit Dulvarna hardest of all for she took the burden of responsibility upon herself and now journeyed to the graveyard beyond Winterhaven’s walls at dawn and dusk to honour the fallen with candles and prayers as Lathander taught. Enlishia had sought her own solace on the walls of Winterhaven, aiding Lord Padraig’s meager militia as they watched for goblins and worse during the worst of the winter weather. That they would have to return to the ruined keep was not in doubt in Enlishia’s mind but they would likely need allies. Perhaps the militiamen would yet serve, she mused.
Suddenly, she heard her companion , a young man named Deernan who was barely a year older than she was, cry out. He stood on the wall on the other side of the village gate and had obviously been more attentive than she had been for he was gesturing toward the trail that led up from the East Way. Enlishia looked down and saw a wagon, pulled by two draft horses and flanked by three robed figures making its way slowly up the trail from the East Way. Enlishia picked up her bow from where it rested against the parapet and started across towards the gate. She reached over her shoulder and pulled an arrow from the quiver slung there, nocking it to the bow string as she went.
“Who comes, Deernan?” she asked as she reached the gate.
“I know not,” the man answered, none are expected.
“Who goes there?” Enlishia called out into the night. “Who comes to Winterhaven.”
“I am Ambassador for the First Lord of Hillsfar,” called back a gruff, male voice that seemed strangely familiar. “I am bound for Suzail and the Court of the Purple Dragon and seek shelter here for Midwinter.”
It was Midwinter Eve the next day and Lord Padraig was having a feast at which specially selected animals would be cooked to provide a respite from the lean winter months. If the man was who he said he was then he would have to be admitted else it would bode ill for Padraig and Winterhaven when the man reached Suzail. Enlishia allowed herself a moment of indecision and then called down to the man once more.
“Who travels with you?” she called.
“Advisors and bodyguards, both,” called back the man and now Enlishia felt sure that she had heard his voice before.
“Open the gates,” she called down to others below and slowly, with a loud grate, the stout wooden bar was slid aside and the gates of Winterhaven swung open.
“Stay here,” Enlishia said as she started for the stairs down to the street. “And load your crossbow just in case.”
The man looked alarmed for a moment before picking up his crossbow and beginning to crank it back. Enlishia ambled down the stairs, an arrow still nocked to her bow. As she reached the street, the man, his wagon and his escorts were just passing through the gateway and he turned towards her.
“Hello Enlishia,” said the man, pulling back his hood.
“Lord Berdar,” Enlishia gasped and then rushed to embrace the man, throwing her bow aside.
“What think you of it,” said Berdar as he held out the knot of wood to Enlishia.
“It is a map, clearly,” said Enlishia, speaking quietly as she and the companions now shared the attic of Wrafton’s Inn with nearly a dozen others from the vale who had come to Winterhaven for the Midwinter feast. They had given up their rooms for Berdar and his two companions at Enlishia’s insistence and now lived alongside dead chickens and salted sides of pork and beef that hung from the rafters in the hope that Lord Padraig or Sister Linora would buy them for their lavish tables.
“That much is obvious,” rumbled Erlmoor but the words mean nothing to me.
Two phrases, Nepenchil’s Rest and Fiendish Foot were carved in common runes beside the strange map that was carved into the wood. Dulvarna shrugged and the hooded woman who called herself Thira remained silent. At last, Lavren spoke up.
“The Fiendish Foot I have heard of,” said the elf, recalling a tome he read three decades before. “It is a dark relic that grants its wearer some power of demons. That it is carved here makes no sense.”
“And if the goblin is from this keep you spoke of,” said Kel turning her wide, almond shaped eyes on Lavren. They were all that could be seen from the depths of her hood and the elf was intrigued with what little he had seen of the woman. Her body was undoubtedly shapely but he did not even know if she was woman or elf maid or of some other race that walked the Realms.
“And I have heard tell of Nepenchil,” she said then, turning to the others. “Lord Nepenchil was an eccentric Cormyte noble who moved his hold to a keep in the Hullack Forest a century ago during the reign of Palaghard II, great grandsire of Azoun IV. It is said that invitations to the week-long hunts he hosted were quite coveted by the nobles of his time.”
They all looked to Kel then, wondering where she had come by such knowledge of Cormyr, intrigued as Lavren was.
“We should seek out this tower,” she said then, turning to Lavren and seeming to wink at him. “The Hullack is along the East Way. We will pass it on the way to Suzail.” The last was directed at Berdar and he nodded gently.
“Our business is not finished here,” said Dulvarna sternly. “The Keep is still a danger here and far from beaten.”
“And as the goblin had this map then the Keep you fear may be tied to the Fiendish Foot and Lord Nepenchil’s keep,” answered Kel.
“And what will you do while we seek this keep, Lord Berdar?” asked Dulvarna.
“Lord Padraig has offered me the Purple Dragons who remain here as escorts,” answered Berdar. “I can spare my escorts for a little while at least.”
“Very well then,” said Dulvarna. “When you leave we will come with you and seek this Nepenchil’s Rest.”
“It is as settled as it can be then,” said Berdar. “But before you go on, my companions should reveal their true selves. Show them.”
The two women hesitated but then, with hasty glances to be sure no others in the attic looked, they pulled back their hoods. Thira’s hood revealed a face that was pale and shapely but from her head grew two thick horns that curved back behind her ears. Her hair was short and bright, white blonde. Kel, meanwhile revealed herself to be an elf and a devastatingly beautiful one, though her skin was black as night and her hair as white as pale moonlight.
“A drow and a tiefling,” gasped Lavren as the two women hastily pulled up their hoods.
“Does this change anything?” asked Berdar. “It should not for Kel and Thira have served me well for years.”
“No, it changes nothing,” answered Dulvarna at once. “We judge by deeds, not race.”
“Agreed,” said Enlishia. “Friends of yours are friends of mine, Berdar.”
“For that, we thank you,” said Kel then. “We should set out as soon as Midwinter is done.”
It was agreed and a dark elf and a tiefling joined the companions for a while at least.
Firstly thanks for posting and glad you're enjoying the story. KotS (with a couple of side treks) ran to 22 chapters in the end so there's plenty more to come and I've now started Thunderspire Labyrinth.
Had a look at your web site and it looks great. Would love to have the time and ability to create something like this. Will have a read of the story so far on the weekend (away with work until then) and post some feedback.
Serethira Bralkiir embraced Berdar Djaler and turned away as Enlishia took her own turn to embrace her former mentor. The tiefling now wore a head scarf to cover her horns for the day was bright and warm for the season. Beside her, Kel remained hooded for her skin was as much a giveaway of her identity as her pure white hair. Once the goodbyes had been said, the six companions watched Berdar leave, surrounded by an escort of Purple Dragons and leading the draft horses who had pulled his wagon all the way from the Moonsea. When he turned a bend in the road and passed out of sight, hidden by the trees of the Hullack Forest, Kel waved them towards the overgrown remains of a trail that snaked south east into the forest. It was certainly warmer here than it was in the mountains to the east and the walk was pleasant as they headed deeper into the forest seeking the ruin that the goblin had held a map to.
As they walked, Thira mused on the Fiendish Foot and what it might be capable of. She herself had demonic ancestry and she had been fascinated from an early age by the power of her ancestors. Berdar had taken her in and channeled her thirst for knowledge into a useful mastery of magic but still she wondered and feared. Would she be tempted when she came face to face with the real power of her bloodline or would she turn away? She could not tell.
Thira looked ahead then as the vegetation around the overgrown trail was thinning.
“Something burns ahead,” said Erlmoor from the back of the group. “I see smoke.”
“I see it to,” said Lavren.
“As do I,” said Kel.
“Damn the eyes of the elves,” muttered Thira under her breath, quoting a book she had read as a child.
“Make ready,” said Dulvarna. “few good things lurk in forests in winter.”
They drew weapons and readied spells before Dulvarna led them cautiously into the clearing ahead of them. They had stumbled upon a camp, at the heart of which was an ornate pavilion with fifteen smaller tents surrounding it. All were coloured in various hues of deep green and blue. Around camp fires sat elves in various weary postures, some wounded and others tending to them. The nearest leapt to their feet at once, drawing back bows and nocking arrows to strings. Others continued working upon the wounded and building a pyre, gathering firewood and freshly picked flowers while still others sorted items from a pile of battle spoils that included black shields and well-polished, steel blades. The source of the smoke that Erlmoor and the others had seen lay beyond the camp. There, a grassy meadow rolled down into the still waters of a shallow, ice limned bog. There, next to the bog, a macabre heap of humanoid corpses had been put to the flame. Between the camp and the burning bodies Thira picked out signs of a small but intense battle with arrows and broken weapons lodged in the ground. Even her eyes, less keen than elf or drow, could pick out blood staining the grass. The elves had faught a fierce battle here and seemingly, despite their hurts, won.
“Who comes to our camp?” said one of the archers at once. “Identify yourselves.”
“We are in service to Lord Padraig of Winterhaven,” said Dulvarna sternly. “And we came this way seeking a ruin that may be allied with goblins that have plagued that place.”
“Then you should speak with our leaders,” answered the elf quietly. “We will take you to them once the funeral here is ended.”
The six stood grimly at the edge of the camp as elves carried wooden litters into the camp from the far side bearing the bodies of nearly a dozen of their fallen to the central pavilion. Lavren bowed his head, recognizing the occasion for what it was and Dulvarna, Enlishia and Erlmoor all felt the pain of their recent losses anew. Thira and Kel, meanwhile, simply looked on curiously, neither having seen the like before. At the pavilion, a cleric in a winged helm awaited the fallen and beside her stood a hooded acolyte and a proud elf lord with a bandaged wound on his head. The acolyte carried an incense burner and moved to lead the procession toward the pyres to the east of the camp. The priestess and the elf lord followed and as each was laid upon a pyre, the priestess led the gathered elves in a mournful low song.
“They lament the lost years of their kin,” whispered Lavren to the others. “And wish them well on the journey to Arvandor.”
When all had been laid upon a pyre, each was set alight in turn by the acolyte and the elves stood for a few moments as their song faded into the woodland afternoon. Then, the elf lord and the priestess made their way back to the pavilion and the other elves dispersed around the camp. As the two leaders reached the central pavilion they beckoned to the archers who had first met the companions and waved them forward.
“My guards tell me that you seek the Ashen Tower,” said the elf lord without preamble, once the companions had sat down at the table set out for them in the central pavilion. Before them was a meal of meats, bread, cheese, fruit, sweet breads and wine that had seemingly been made ready in no time at all. “What takes you there exactly?” the elf continued.
“We fear that whoever dwells there may be allied with goblins who plague Winterhaven to the east,” answered Thira.
“It lies deep within a part of this forest where elves never venture,” said the elf lord who had been named Litiraan during the introductions before the meal. “The survivors of the battle here fled towards it.”
“Then perhaps we can aid each other,” suggested Thira helpfully. “We will track down your enemies in return for safe passage.”
“Perhaps,” said the elf priestess named Telkya who sat next to the elf lord. “But I am still curious about who we treat with and would know more. Where are your kindred from, Thira? Your eyes are intriguing.”
“My kin are from Hillsfar,” answered Thira without lying. “The eyes are a family trait.” This, too, was the truth, although not all of it.
“I’m sure they are,” said Telkya sternly. “And the mysterious Kel. “What ails you that you hide beneath a cowl through the warmest time of a winter day?”
“My kin do not tolerate daylight well,” answered Kel, also telling the truth such as she could.
“That is a shame,” Telkya responded. “You miss so much hidden beneath a cowl.”
“That is enough questioning of our guests,” interrupted Litiraan. “A word if I may and if our guests will excuse a momentary interruption.”
The two conferred in whispers then while the others ate and observed in silence. The food was truly delicious and the wine the finest that any, save perhaps Lavren, had ever tasted. The two turned back to their guests a few moments later.
“We faught hobgoblins here,” said Litiraan then. “Fierce brutes who were aided by sorcerers and dark priests. Thirteen of our kin died in the battle but we sent forty seven of the foul goblins to the Hells in return. Alas, the object of our expedition here, the chieftain Khurbok, fled the battle with the few followers that remained to him rather than be taken. He headed east into the part of the forest that we have long been forbidden to go.”
“Many among our number resent our decision not to pursue Khurbok,” said Telkya then. “It seems he heads towards the Ashen Tower which is the ruin that you seek. It lies at the heart of the forbidden part of the forest.”
“We will pay you three hundred gold pieces for the head of Khurbok,” said Litiraan.
“Then we will bring it to you,” answered Lavren and the rest nodded their agreement. They ate the rest of their meal mostly in silence for they knew now the enemy that awaited them.
“I heard them say it,” said Ilar as he tore a piece of meat from the small rabbit leg he held in his hand.
“It can’t be,” answered Micor. “Litiraan would not allow it.”
“Wrong,” Ilar snapped back with a half smile. “He would not allow us to go there but if the strangers seek the Ashen Tower then he will let them. And we should go along.”
“They’re not going there,” Micor persisted, pulling out a whetstone and starting to sharpen his sword. “And even if they were, Litiraan would forbid it.”
“But this is not our forest anymore,” Ilar responded. “We haven’t lived here for centuries. Litiraan can forbid nothing.”
“Well it matters not,” Micor answered, looking resolutely at the blade of his sword. “They are not going there.”
“I’ll prove it,” Ilar said, tossing the rabbit leg back onto his blade that sat on the grass outside the tent the two brothers shared. He leapt to his feet and danced over to the northern edge of the camp where archers had first greeted the strangers. He spoke to a group of archers animatedly before dancing back to his brother jubilantly. Micor knew what his brother would say before he spoke.
“They’re going,” said Ilar. “Shame I hadn’t suggested a wager.”
“And if Litiraan forbids it,” Micor answered.
“He won’t,” Ilar replied before becoming suddenly serious as he sat back down on the log beside the fire. “We must go with them if we are to avenge father’s death.”
“You’re right,” Micor relented, nodding slowly. “If they are going, it is the only way. But Litiraan could still stop us.”
“He should not,” Ilar replied. “We have the right to avenge our kin.”
“As do many others here,” said Micor grimly.
“Then let them come with us,” Ilar answered with finality. “All listen too much to Litiraan and not enough to their hearts.”
“And how will we do this?” asked Micor.
“We will ask the strangers,” Ilar declared.
“I cannot allow it,” said Litiraan once the two elves had presented themselves before his tent just as Dulvarna and the others were leaving. “The forest around the Ashen Tower has been forbidden to elves for centuries. It belongs to our enemies.”
“But this is the Hullack Forest,” said Dulvarna. “Surely no great enemy lurks so deep within Cormyr.”
“It was not always so,” answered the elf lord. “Once we were allied with the kings of men here and we guarded this forest for them. The woods around the tower was taken by an ancient evil and is forbidden to elves. I am surprised that you, Lavren, are happy to enter it.”
“He has a duty to his friends as much as to his people,” rumbled Erlmoor softly. “And these two have a duty to avenge their father.” He of all the companions felt the burden of honour that the elf brothers felt and understood the duty that they must perform. “If they are prepared to brave this ancient decree then they should be allowed to do so. For the sake of their father.”
Litiraan seemed stirred by the paladin’s appeal and lowered his eyes.
“Very well,” he said at last. “But they go of their own will and on their own heads be it.”
Ilar and Micor bowed stiffly to Litiraan and the others followed suit. Dulvarna then turned towards the southern edge of the camp and the boggy ground where the hobgoblins still burned. In the pale light of the winter afternoon, she led the companions out of the camp, heading deeper into the forest.
They heard wolf howls before they had gone very far, first from the left and then answering ones from the right.
“Why is this place forbidden to elves?” asked Kel, still keeping her face hidden beneath the hood of her cloak.
“It was taken by the servants of an evil god,” answered Micor quietly.
“Which evil god?” asked Dulvarna firmly.
“Malar, the Beastlord,” Ilar replied.
“Brilliant,” said Enlishia, unshouldering her bow. “Just brilliant.”
The wolves appeared first from the left of the trail they were following, two of them. Dulvarna drew her sword and met both with her blade, slashing across the muzzle of one as she danced forward. Another darted out of the trees from the right towards Ilar who danced back away from it while reaching for his swords and moved aside to allow Thira forward. The tiefling pointed her staff at the wolf and loosed a silver bolt into the beast’s side, twisting its body away from the elf. Another wolf darted past its companion and leapt up to seize Thira’s outstretched arm, tearing the flesh and almost forcing her to drop her staff. She lashed arm and staff to the right, shaking the wolf free and hurling it into its companion. Both yelped and as they rolled to their feet, Enlishia loosed an arrow into the side of one that drew another yelp from it. Erlmoor was upon the wolves an instant later, roaring his anger and covering both with a shower of acid breath. He struck at the nearest with his sword but it danced back, whimpering and apparently fearful for the moment. Ilar drew forth a longsword then and slashed at the muzzle of the other wolf driving it back, whimpering as the other had. He drew a short sword from his other hip then and spun both before him to keep the wolves at bay while Kel sneered behind his back.
“My kin do that better,” she muttered under her breath.
“Pardon?” asked Micor from just in front of her as he drew one of his blades.
“Nothing, nothing,” answered the cloaked drow.
Micor nodded to her and then danced away with his longsword held in both hands. He circled around behind Erlmoor and plunged it into the chest of the nearest wolf, felling it with a last whimper. He turned to grin in victory at Kel but it was momentary.
“More wolves are coming,” said Lavren as more howls came from left and right. He drew forth his wand and moved left to aid Dulvarna but then saw the source of one of the howls. Another wolf was loping forward through the trees to the left unseen by his companions. With a flick of his wand and a curse in elvish, he loosed black, crackling eldritch fire at the beast. The wolf was struck in the shoulder but it had broken into a run now and searing, burning agony would not stop it. The wolf leapt as it reached the elf but Lavren turned aside and whilst its teeth grasped his shoulder for a moment and tore painfully into his flesh, the elf ‘s turn and the wolf’s momentum sent it careering to the floor at Thira’s feet.
Dulvarna looked over her shoulder as the other wolf rushed in and, satisfied that her companions were coping well without her, she turned her attention back to the two wolves she now faced. One darted at her but she dodged back and it grasped only a low tree branch in its jaws which it shook free with its own form of annoyance. The other darted at her then but she swatted at it with her armoured right arm. It seized the limb for a moment but then fell away from her with a growl as its teeth failed to pierce the scaled metal that covered her. Dimly, she heard Micor cry out a warning as another wolf came at him from the right of the trail and then Kel was beside him, her morning star in her hands and a prayer in elvish on her lips.
“Ciryn Dulvarna,” she cried as the last phrase and then struck at the nearest wolf but the beast danced back and the pale blue glowing light that had been building around the head of the morning star died there and then.
Without asking the meaning of her name in the prayer, Dulvarna took advantage of the drow’s arrival and slashed at both wolves, driving them back further and stopping them for a moment from making any more attacks. Kel turned towards her and deep within her hood, Dulvarna saw her wink. This was the drow’s first battle with the companions and already she was enjoying herself. Dulvarna could not help but be impressed.
Behind the two, Thira retreated from the two wolves who were now outnumbered by the blades before them and then waved her staff towards them. A column of flame descended on the backs of the wolves and with more yelps, both leapt forward towards their waiting enemies. One, realizing its nearness to Ilar, growled fiercely and darted at the elf but Ilar danced back out of the wolf’s reach and then plunged forward with both blades before him, seeking the throat or skull of the wolf. Instead, his blades seared along the shoulder blades of the wolf and lodged against the ribs beneath. The wolf staggered and yelped again, twisting away and tearing itself free of the blades. Micor plunged forward with his own blades, seeming to want to mimic his brother but the wolf he faced was fresh and unfazed. It darted to one side and the elf only managed to score its flank with his curved short blade.
From the left, Lavren called to them in elvish for aid as he drew his own sword to keep the wolf before him at bay. He slashed at the beast but it dodged left and then darted in to seize his right ankle. He slashed at it again and it released its grip but not before it had torn at the flesh of his leg painfully and drawn more blood.
Kel dodged and twisted as a wolf leapt at her but it tore her sleeve and her forearm beneath before landing awkwardly on the ground beside her. She uttered a prayer as the wolf came back at her and swung her morning star at it, keeping it at bay for a few heartbeats. Her enjoyment of the battle was fading with the pain of her first wound but Kel took a moment to thank her fierce upbringing which had kept her alive so far. She looked over at Dulvarna, and admired her skill with a blade which had presumably been gained in battles such as these. Even as Kel looked, the warrior woman charged at both wolves and slashed her blade across the shoulder of one and into the flank of the other. Both backed away for a moment, whimpering as they went. Kel heard Thira chanting behind her and turned for the briefest of moments as the tiefling loosed flame from her staff. The wolves were ready this time, though and not to be cowed. They darted forward, low to the ground and evaded the fire that seared above them. The two lines met then and, as a wolf leapt at Lavren, Kel turned away with her morning star before her.
The drow slashed her morning star at the wolf before her and it thought better of darting forward but Dulvarna was not so lucky for the wolf she faced leapt and seized her arm for a moment before she shook it free. Dulvarna drove her blade into the shoulder of the wolf as it rolled to its feet and it retreated from her again to give her a few moments breathing space.
Thira uttered another incantation, extended her staff and called forth a column of flame that engulfed the nearest wolf while the other leapt away. The burned wolf gave a sharp whimper and then, as the flames died around it, it fell to the soft ground as a blackened corpse. The tiefling smiled and felt a thrill of exultation and excitement course through her. She had never killed in battle before and she could not deny that, as many warriors had told her in Hillsfar, there was an excitement to be felt despite the violence and brutality. She wondered if the others felt it and decided almost at once that Enlishia did not as she fired another arrow over the top of the last wolf to the right of the trail.
Thira brought to mind another spell and then cursed as Ilar danced into her way, slashing his blade at the last wolf. She turned instead to the left of the trail where three wolves still fought and where Lavren valiantly defended her. She heard him curse vehemently in elvish at the wolf before him and then slashed at it with his blade, tearing its muzzle and one of its nostrils. She liked Lavren and would aid him, Thira decided. He had a fierce spirit which mirrored her own.
The wolf came back at Lavren and bit his hand but the elf paid it no mind and fought on. Thira rushed back onto the trail to find a place from which she could aid him.
Dulvarna gasped as the wolf barreled into her but she did not fall. The wind knocked from her momentarily,
she struggled for breath for a moment as Kel evaded the other beast. The drow began praying again and then she struck at the wolf with a high overhead swing that came down on the wolf’s back. There was a burst of black energy and a sound like thunder as the blow struck and the wolf reeled away, stunned for the moment.
Dulvarna stepped between the wolves and slashed her blade across the flank of one as it tried to dart behind her. She spun on the spot, moving back to defend Thira and Lavren but as she did so, she ended her wide swing by thrusting the point of her sword into the side of the other, dazed, wolf. It whimpered and staggered as though about to fall but then it staggered back towards Kel and just remained on its feet.
Erlmoor roared and drove his blade into the shoulders of the last wolf before him. He was angry that this wolf had evaded him for so long but wrathful also, that Malar had sent these beasts to their inevitable deaths in this quiet, woodland glade. Ilar plunged his blade into the side of the wolf and found its heart at last. It slumped forward without even a whimper to lie at the feet of its three slayers.
Ilar and Micor looked around quickly and then rushed to aid Lavren while Erlmoor looked down sadly at the fallen wolf.
“It should not have died this way,” said Enlishia, coming up behind the dragonborn.
“It should not,” rumbled Erlmoor in response.
“Good to see you,” said Lavren breathlessly as Ilar and Micor came to his aid against the wolf he faced. Behind him, Thira frowned, annoyed that her aid, albeit a wild silver bolt that had missed the wolf, had gone apparently unappreciated. Lavren darted forward at the wolf and drove his sword into its shoulder, forcing it back and away from him. The wolf let out a long, mournful howl then before turning to flee into the forest to the east. The other two wolves, backed away from Kel and Dulvarna and then fled themselves, leaving the trail quiet and deserted once more.
Anhob shoved the chainmail coat back under the furs of his bed as he heard the trapdoor down to the dungeon below slam shut and Khurbok begin barking orders to the warriors who guarded the upper ruin with Anhob. The warcaster cursed the chieftain silently and decided to shelve his plan to give the mail coat to the chieftain. It would prove more valuable bartered or sold. Perhaps when they returned to Thunderspire….
His train of thought was interrupted as the huge hobgoblin chief rounded the wall behind which Anhob camped and stopped to drag the guard at the end of the wall out of the leaning, slouched pose he had adopted into a more upright one.
“Do I have to discipline this rabble myself?” said Khurbok as he drew near the warcaster. Anhob had resorted to stirring the dying embers of his fire once the mail coat was safely hidden and despite his leader’s question, he mused that he would need more wood before nightfall. It would be cold in the forest once more.
“Well?” pressed Khurbok. “And you would be wise to stand before your chieftain.
“You lead a warband and nothing more,” snarled Anhob insolently, remaining seated. “Maglubiyet does not reward those who rise above their station.”
“You still serve me,” answered Khurbok. “And Maglubiyet will not save you if I chose to end that service. Any news of aid?”
“None,” Anhob responded, rising this time and gesturing the nearby guard, now standing bolt upright, to him. “I sent two scouts north east to the road this morning and they saw nothing. A merchant’s wagon with an escort of soldiers heading west, nothing more.”
“More firewood,” he said to the soldier then. “It will be a cold night.” The hobgoblin disappeared behind the ruined wall and Anhob turned back to face Khurbok.
“And the elves?” asked the chieftain.
“No sign,” answered Anhob. “They have not moved from the battle site and since this is Malar’s land I doubt that they will advance.”
“And if they do,” Khurbok responded icily. “Then we had best pray to Maglubiyet that the goblin got through to the mountain with the map.”
“I pray nightly for his protection,” answered Anhob, reverently this time. “The goblin will bring aid.”
“I hope you’re right,” Khurbok answered and then, as suddenly as he had arrived, he turned away.
Anhob waited until he heard the trapdoor slam shut before reaching under the furs of his bed to pull forth the edge of the fine mail coat. It would not go to Khurbok unless things changed drastically, he decided. It was his now. He had taken it from the elf he had slain and it was his to do with as he pleased. Perhaps it could bring him his own warband back at Thunderspire.
“Intruders!” called a voice then.
“The elves have come for us!” shouted another in goblin.
Some took up the whooping signal that Khurbok had ordered them to raise should anyone come upon the upper ruins. Anhob rose to his feet impatiently again and took his staff from where it rested against the ruined wall. He would have to see who this was, he knew, and started towards the western edge of the ruin.
Dulvarna cursed as the hobgoblins began taking up the whooping cry, knowing all hope of surprising whoever dwelt in the ruins was now gone. An arrow flew high over her head and she watched it pass nervously. The hobgoblins did not have the range yet but they were undoubtedly within bow range for however many archers dwelt within the ruin. Enlishia apparently cared not for as Dulvarna reached for her sword and considered the situation, the ranger darted off the trail to the left, unshouldered her bow and began firing back at the hobgoblins.
“Erlmoor, go with Enlishia,” Dulvarna called as she started off at a jog down the trail towards where the entrance to the hold once would have stood. She rounded a copse of trees and found a hobgoblin standing ready with a flail in its hands. It called back over its shoulder to others in the ruin that Dulvarna could not see and from somewhere within, a horn blew sounded loud and clear.
Another hobgoblin rushed from the ruin with a flail held before it and Dulvarna slowed, looking back over her shoulder to see whether anyone was coming to aid her in this fight. Lavren was coming quickly, his wand in his hand, as were the two elves, their blades drawn. Kel and Thira had started off after Enlishia as well and Dulvarna saw a flash of silver lance from the tiefling’s staff towards the ruin. Erlmoor lumbered after the ranger last but his long strides quickly caught up to her and the Dulvarna felt satisfied that they would be safe as they disappeared around the other side of the copse of trees. She turned her attention back to the hobgoblins before her and started towards them.
Kel felt an arrow drive into her shoulder as she rushed towards the ruins and cursed the hobgoblins under her breath. She grabbed the shaft and snapped it off, throwing it to the ground. A drow showed no pain, she reminded herself and ran onwards. She heard a clash of weapons beyond the trees to her right but paid it no mind, focusing only on the ruin ahead and reaching the archers there before they shot her down. Then she saw another hobgoblin lean out of a gap in the north wall of the ruin close to a tree and level his staff at her. The creature raised its other arm, uttered a terrible curse in its tongue and sent a bolt of lightning lancing towards her. It struck her left shoulder where the arrow had struck her and sent her reeling and stumbling towards the tree to her right. She wanted to cry out but then Enlishia’s hand steadied her as the ranger rushed to the tree to take up a new firing position.
“Are you alright?” she asked, looking back as she nocked an arrow to her bow.
Kel stopped, put her hands to her knees and let her morning star hang loosely from them as she tried to recover. She nodded with a firmness that she did not feel as she fought to regain her breath and watched Enlishia’s arrow clatter into the stonework of the ruin’s west wall. The sounds of battle through the trees to the right were louder now and as Kel turned, she thought she could see Dulvarna slashing at a hobgoblin warrior.
“Watch out,” Kel heard Enlishia call.
She looked up just as she felt the searing pain that she knew must be an arrow piercing her throat. She gasped for breath and then felt warm liquid filling her mouth. She pitched forward and saw the ground rushing up to her for a moment only for the merciful blackness to take her before her head struck the grass.
Dulvarna felt the chain of the flail lash across her shoulder and twisted away from it as the spiked ball struck her shoulder blade and threatened to stay there. She could not help but admire the tactics the hobgoblins used together. They fought expertly as one, shields together protecting each other while each took its own chances to strike at its enemies. Through the trees to her left, she saw a tall hobgoblin with a skull at its belt and a twisted stave in its hands stride out to meet Erlmoor. It leveled the staff and seemed to break the dragonborn’s stride for a moment but then he carried on towards his foes. Enlishia was still firing arrows at the hidden archers and Dulvarna was encouraged. She could not see Kel but she only had time for a glance to her left and assumed the drow would reach the battle soon. When she turned back to hobgoblins, they were still defending fiercely and striking when they could, keeping Ilar and Micor who fought beside Dulvarna at bay.
Dulvarna surged at them then, slashing her blade left and right until she felt her blade bight into flesh under the shield of the foe before her. She retreated then as Micor went forward to meet the two shields. His blade stabbed out and seemed to be heading for the throat of a hobgoblin but at the last, the warrior raised his shield and blocked the thrust. The hobgoblins came forward in turn, the flail of one lashing out at Ilar over the shields and striking his arm, the spikes of the ball on the end, tearing his flesh painfully.
No sooner had the creature struck than it staggered backwards as searing, silver flame erupted from its eyes, mouth and hands to stream up into the air. The hobgoblin screamed its agony and Dulvarna looked over to where Lavren stood at the edge of the trees to the south of the trail with his wand in his hand and a disturbing look of satisfaction on his face. Dulvarna nodded her thanks quickly and then turned her mind back to the battle once more.
Thira looked back through the trees as Kel fell but decided at once that the drow was beyond aid. She turned her attention back to the ruin and picked out two archers, crouching behind the corner of the west wall. She pointed her stave and called a column of flame down upon them which engulfed one while the other dived aside. Thira cursed quietly at this bad fortune and then cursed again as the archer who had been burned still rose and picked up his bow. Slowly he turned his gaze her way and nocked an arrow to the string.
Thira ducked back behind the tree under which she stood and looked around the other side just as Erlmoor reached the corner of the ruin with a roar and a shower of blistering acid from his mouth. His blade swung at the third hobgoblin, the one who had loosed lightning at Kel and the spellcaster reeled away, a wound cut in its left shoulder. From where Thira stood, the creature seemed to curse the dragonborn to the deepest of the Hells and then raised its stave to fight him. Thira smiled to herself until an arrow drove into her thigh with a wet thud and drove her back behind her tree once more.
Dulvarna stepped back to catch her breath and saw one of Enlishia’s arrows strike home in the shoulder of one of the hobgoblin archers. The hobgoblin she faced came at her despite the wounds his ally had suffered and she raised her blade to parry his flail. As she did so, Dulvarna felt her heart surge and give her a new strength. Some knew the feeling as a battle rage or even a battle joy but she preferred to think of it as Lathander giving her new strength. She rushed her foe then and drove him back a step but still the two shields held together, albeit a little unsteadily now.
Dulvarna heard Enlishia cry out then and knew that the ranger must be wounded as well. The battle was fierce and all would hinge on the next few heartbeats. Micor surged forward and drove the hobgoblin back another step with a slash across his shin and the line bent now as both wounded warriors tried to keep their shields together. The hobgoblin on the right roared wildly and came at Ilar once again, lashing out with its flail over the two shields. It struck the elf on the head this time and sent him reeling away with blood pouring down around his left ear. Lavren cursed that hobgoblin in elvish and hurled crackling black energy at it. The warrior was struck in the side and hurled into his companion, disrupting the rigid line for a moment. Despite this, Dulvarna cursed under her breath and wondered how long they could hold out.
Kel felt something and wondered if she was truly dead. With a feeling of dread she realised that she would meet Lolth soon and would likely be judged wanting. The Spider Queen rarely tolerated drow who failed her on the surface of the world. Just as fear was settling over her, she realised that she could breathe and that the air she could breathe was fresh and cold. She smelt grass close to her head and tasted blood in her mouth. Surely Lolth sees her subjects in all their glorious perfection and not broken and wounded as she was. She swallowed then and the searing pain told her that the arrow was still lodged in her neck and so she raised a hand and snapped the shaft free. The point and the rest of the shaft would have to be removed by magic or a knife and so slowly, as if dreading what she would see, she opened her eyes. She let out a grating, rasping sigh as she found that she still lay where she had fallen and that the battle still went on around her. Rising slowly, Kel prepared to call forth healing power to fix her battered body.
Erlmoor roared again even though his acid breath was spent for a while. The hobgoblin before him was clearly a dark priest of some kind and the dragonborn despised dark priests of any kind. More flame came down in a column to his right and silently Erlmoor thanked Thira for her efforts as it kept the archers away from him and allowed him to concentrate on the staff wielding hobgoblin before him. The priest feinted to the left and then came in from the right but the paladin was not fooled. He parried and then lashed out at the hobgoblin, more wildly than he would have liked. The priest danced back and cackled at the dragonborn before coming at him again.
The priest struck out with his staff and Erlmoor felt a wave of force strike him. He swayed back perhaps a hand-span but was otherwise unmoved and this time, though he disliked mocking any foe, he laughed at the hobgoblin.
Lavren watched the battle between the hobgoblins, Dulvarna and the elves sway back and forth and shared Dulvarna’s worry. Ilar charged back at the nearest foe but he was still dazed and staggered as he rushed forward. The hobgoblin met his blade with its shield and then brought its flail down on the back of the elf’s neck, sending him spinning back and away again. Lavren cursed the hobgoblin again, extended his wand and loosed more crackling black energy into the side of the enemy line. The nearest foe careered away, crashed into his companion and then reeled away from the battle before collapsing on the grass. The hobgoblin did not get up and Lavren allowed himself a satisfied smile. At that moment, he heard Kel’s voice from the copse of trees beyond the battle and saw divine light wash over Dulvarna and the two elves as well as over those hidden with the drow amongst the trees.
“It seems we may be saved,” Lavren mused quietly. “Saved by a drow.”
Dulvarna felt the healing energy wash over her and silently thanked Lathander for her allies. They could prevail now, she decided. It was time to storm the ruin.
She rushed at the hobgoblin who slashed his flail wildly at her allowing her to duck back beyond the reach of the weapon. She slashed left and right with her sword, forcing the hobgoblin to parry with shield and flail handle while nicking his weapon hand and jarring his shield arm. Lavren’s blast of black energy seared past the hobgoblin’s back and it glanced nervously over its shoulder. There was a flash fo movement from the left then as Kel charged into the hobgoblin, leading with her morning star and chanting in elvish. As the cloaked drow spun away the creature was left with a ghostly, glowing mark on its shoulder in the shape of a spider hanging from a web.
“Halthe Dulvarna,” Kel uttered as she moved away and as she did so, Dulvarna felt a surge of power and an urge to strike down the hobgoblin stronger than any she had felt before. Dulvarna charged forward to finish her foe without noticing that Ilar and Micor had stopped, staring at the glowing brand on the enemy’s shoulder.
Kel heard Thira chanting and glanced over her shoulder to see a column of flame descend on the corner of the ruins once again. Only when she turned back to face the hobgoblin did she see that Ilar and Micor were looking at her aghast and ignoring the enemy that Dulvarna was now driving back. Only when the hobgoblin’s flail struck the warrior woman’s shoulder with a sickening crunch did they move to aid her. Dulvarna did not need their aid.
She feinted left and as the hobgoblin turned his shield that way she darted right and plunged her blade into his side. The hobgoblin gasped, staggered and fell and as it did so, the fiery gazes of the two elf brothers turned onto Kel once more.
Last edited by Medriev; 11th October 2008 at 09:56 AM..
“You are drow!” said Micor as though it were a curse. Both elves started towards her.
“Kill it!” he roared then and rushed at her.
Kel parried his blades and retreated before the elves having known that this time would surely come if she travelled abroad in the surface world. Hillsfar had kept her safe and protected but now she was within Cormyr and she would not be tolerated, least of all by elves.
“No!” Lavren called out from the trees beyond the trail. “She is with us. She is friend and ally.”
Kel saw him rush to her right and an instant later a blast of black, crackling energy struck Micor between the shoulder blades and pitched him forward towards her. Kel struck out then herself, realising that she had no choice and that at least one of her new allies would side with her. She brought her morning star down in a great overhead swing but the elf met the blow with both blades crossed. Her eyes met the elves beyond his crossed blades.
“I healed your brother,” she snarled at him.
“With dark power,” he spat back.
She pushed on both blades and shoved her away then as his brother circled to her left and Dulvarna looked up from the slain hobgoblin to try to discern what was happening.
Erlmoor slashed at the hobgoblin priest again but again he parried and the dragonborn cursed silently. A silver bolt lanced into the second archer and then an arrow from Enlishia’s bow that drove into the top of its chest and it fell back, wounded but unbowed. The priest snarled something at the archer in the goblin tongue and the archer spat back a seemingly defiant response. Erlmoor glanced at the archer and then regretted it as the priest jabbed its staff up under his chin and sent him staggering backwards. For a moment he saw only white light but as he shook his head it cleared and he raised his sword again.
He heard a thud and saw the archer fall back from the ruin wall with an arrow in its eye and then he realised what the priest had been snarling at hapless archer. There was fear in the eyes of the priest now and Erlmoor knew that it would break and run. He took a step towards the hobgoblin then and raised his blade, determined to cut it down before it fled.
“This is senseless,” cried Dulvarna as she realised what the elves were trying to do. “Kel is an ally and already a friend.”
“Already a friend,” Ilar snapped as he darted at the drow. “You barely know her then and you brought her into the midst of my people and this forest.”
“But she healed you,” Dulvarna replied.
“And I would rather not have been healed,” Ilar answered.
“Then I am sorry,” said Dulvarna then, and she truly was. “Even those who have dwelt forever in the dark deserve a chance to live in the light.” She turned towards Ilar and slashed her blade across the elf’s left arm while praying silently for Lathander’s forgiveness.
“Well I am not,” Micor shouted as he feinted with his short blade and then drove his long blade at Kel. The drow could not move her heavy morning star back in time as she realised the first thrust was a feint and the blade plunged into her belly. She gasped, looked pleadingly at Dulvarna and then fell for the second time to the grassy floor of the wide clearing.
“No!!” Lavren cried from the left. “You’ll pay for that!”
With a step, the elf vanished and reappeared behind Micor with his blade in his hand. He thrust it towards the elf’s back but at the last, Micor twisted to one side and the blade only pierced his hip. He staggered, turned and then rushed at the elf.
Enlishia nocked an arrow to her bow and waited for a moment for the archer to rise but the hobgoblin did not. She had thought as much. To her right, Thira leveled her staff and loosed a silver bolt that struck the priest in the should and knowing that she must do the same, the ranger started off to the right seeking a good place from which to strike at her quarry. Even as she reached the ideal place and nodded to Thira she heard Erlmoor give out another angry roar as he rushed the priest for one last time. His blade swatted the hobgoblin’s stave aside and then slashed deep into the priest’s belly. The hobgoblin gasped and bent forward and as he did so, the dragonborn shifted to one side and brought his blade down on the back of the priest’s neck. The hobgoblin’s head fell away and the decapitated body pitched forward to lie amongst the tumbled stones of the ruin.
“So die all dark priests who cross my path,” Erlmoor called.
Enlishia nodded her approval and then looked to the right to survey the battle there. She stared for a moment as her senses took in the two slain hobgoblins and the fallen drow whose hood had at last fallen back to reveal her darkly beautiful features. Still a battle raged around these and she realised then that her companions were fighting the elves who had come with them. A horrible realisation settled in the pit of her stomach then. They were fighting over Kel and there was no side could win this battle.
Enlishia started forward as Ilar turned away from the fallen drow and darted forward at Dulvarna. She aimed along the arrow she had intended for the hobgoblin priest and loosed the shaft. It drove into Ilar’s back between his shoulder blades and pierced his heart. The elf opened his mouth in a strangled gasp and pitched forward at Dulvarna’s feet.
Dulvarna looked down at the slain elf and stepped back from both fallen Ilar and Micor who yet faught. She threw aside her blade and looked at the battle with tearful eyes.
“This cannot happen here,” she called out. “We have common enemies who may yet lurk within these ruins. This ends now!”
“It ends with my death!” Micor roared as he saw his brother’s fallen form. “It has gone too far to stop now!”
He turned on Lavren and slashed his blade across the elf’s chest. Lavren took a step back and then began to began to curse in elvish. He thrust his blade into Micor’s shoulder and drove him back. Thira loosed a silver bolt from her staff that struck the elf in the back and he staggered, all but sinking to his knees.
Erlmoor rounded the trees then and charged towards the battle, apparently thinking that his companions had surrounded the last of the hobgoblins. As he neared the battle, Enlishia aimed along another shaft and loosed the arrow, this one flying higher and driving through the neck of the elf. Micor gasped and gurgled as Kel had done when blood had filled her throat and then he sank to his knees. He fell forward to land in the blood-soaked grass at Lavren’s feet and everyone looked away. Only then did Erlmoor draw near enough to realise what had happened.
“In the Morninglord’s name,” he said quietly. “What have you done?”
“There’s a trap door here,” Kelolitha called to the others as she picked her way through the ruins. Erlmoor had shamed Dulvarna and Enlishia into building a pyre for the elves while Thira, kel and Lavren explored the ruins carefully.
“Then cover it with something heavy so that nothing can escape from below,” Dulvarna called back.
Kel looked around to find something to cover the trap door with before quickly settling on a large chunk of fallen masonry close to the wall beneath which the trap door lay.
“Lavren,” she called softly. “Will you help me with this?”
The moon elf came over to the dark elf, whose hood was now down, revealing her stunning beauty and bent to assist her. His eyes could not help but stray to take in all the fine features of the beauteous being before him.
“What should we say to speed Fair Folk upon their way?” Erlmoor called from beside the pyre, interrupting Lavren’s less than pious musings. He pretended not to hear and after some whispered discussions, he heard Erlmoor raise his voice in a prayer for the drawing down of the day in what the elf assumed to be Morninglord’s tradition.
“Why do you defend me when those brothers would have killed me?” hissed Kel then as she and Lavren raised the heavy stone up between them and began to carry it slowly over to the trap door.
“I am not like other elves,” Lavren responded quickly. “The old ways and traditions have served us poorly of late and so I follow them less than others.” They heard Enlishia’s voice take up a mournful elven ballad then as the fire was set to the pyre of the elf brothers.
“I owe you my life,” said Kel softly as they set the stone down atop the trap door. “How can I ever repay you?”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” he replied in his most charming voice, hoping the drow was perhaps promising some of the things that his mind was now conjuring.
Alas, Enlishia’s voice, her song now finished, interrupted his reverie.
“We should venture downwards sooner tonight,” the ranger said. “If more hobgoblins lurk down there they surely know we are here. The sooner we strike at them the less time they will have to prepare.”
“Agreed,” answered Kel, breaking eye contact with Lavren and turning to face the three who came from the funeral pyre. “The more time they have, the more ready they will be.”
“Enlishia is right,” Erlmoor rumbled without acknowledging the drow. “We attack them now when they will expect us to wait out the night.”
“Looks like we’re decided,” said Thira as she rejoined the group from the southern side of the ruins. “There’s a flue over there that I’ve blocked as well. If they cook tonight, it’ll get pretty smoky down there.”
“Have we forgotten that we have fought two battles today,” said Lavren with a meaningful glance towards Kel. “We should camp and rest for the night with our enemies sealed below us. We can attack in the morning when we are all well rested.” Once again his mind began to conjure with scenarios where he and the drow found themselves alone in the camp as the others slept around them.
“Lavren is right,” Dulvarna said then, surprising the elf. “We all need rest and have wounds that need tending to. We should camp here this night and attack the tunnels below in the morning.”
“I cannot agree with you, Dulvarna,” said Erlmoor and all knew that something had changed within the group as he said it. “I will lead all who will come into the dungeons tonight. You may stay here with the elf if you wish or come with me as you choose but you must decide now.”
Dulvarna’s shoulders slumped and she nodded her acquiescence to Erlmoor’s decision. The dragonborn would no longer follow her into anything after the death of the two elves and Lavren knew that he too would have to go along with the paladin. Slowly he walked towards the stone that covered the trap door and Kel came to join him. With a consoling smile the drow lifted her end of the stone and the moon elf lifted his end.
The dusty, dark cellar beneath the trap door was apparently used to store spirits at one time, Thira concluded as she surveyed the place by the magical light of her staff. The stone staircase that led down from the trap door above it seemed sturdy and safe but the wooden shelves against the walls and in the middle of the room had suffered badly from moisture and old age. Broken kegs and bottles lay scattered across the floor and on a chair at the foot of the stairs sat a hobgoblin, apparently dozing. Another sat on a bench with a bottle beside him equally unaware and comatose as his companion. Thira heard Lavren hissing in the elven tongue behind her and then the elf raised his wand and loosed black, crackling energy at the hobgoblin on the bench. It struck the creature and pitched it over backwards onto the floor. Kel pushed past the others on the stair and rushed at the other hobgoblin. She raised her morningstar over her head and brought it down on the hobgoblin, felling it where it slept.
Thira moved past the drow and advanced down a passage that led eastward out of the small room. The passage emerged into a large room with four circular pillars supporting the ceiling. A wide well yawned in the centre of the room and with a broken bucket near its rim and old wooden crates piled against the east wall. As the tiefling entered the room she saw a hobgoblin sitting with its back against the pillar sharpening a long, slightly curved sword. Another sat, leaning against another pillar, idly tossing dice on the floor of the chamber. Thira stopped with a gasp and the hobgoblins rose slowly and turned towards her.
“There are more in here,” Thira called out, and within moments, Dulvarna, Enlishia and Erlmoor surged into the room with their weapons held ready. The hobgoblins gave shouts of alarm and from somewhere down a hallway to the south came a roar of anger.
Khurbok seized his spear and took up his shield and began to shout to his warriors to follow him. With a whistle, he summoned his wolf, Gimuk, to his side and then turned to his companions.
“It is the elves,” he called out in his own tongue. “The elves have come for us and we must drive them off. Anhob has failed us so now we must fight for our lives and to keep the accursed elves from this place that we have claimed. Come with me!!”
With that he charged up the northern corridor at the head of what remained of his warband. It was pitifully small now and the goblin he had sent for aid had seemingly failed him. Thunderspire was too far from here and his allies could not save him. Still, if he defended this hold and kept it, he would win new followers and new treasures that would overshadow his defeat by the accursed elves. He emerged into the well chamber and looked around only to see two humans, a dragonborn and a tiefling in the chamber. He saw no elves and could only assume that the four were adventurers who had happened upon this ruin.
“Kill them,” he called out. “And we will feast upon their bones tonight.”
Two elves did burst into the chamber then and circle around the north side of the well. Khurbok looked at them and cursed silently for a moon elf and a dark elf, a drow of the Underdark ran together here and he was sure that Anhob would pronounce that an ill omen.
Dulvarna glanced right as she skirted the northern edge of the well and as she did so, she saw Thira loose a bolt of silver magic from her staff that stuck a hobgoblin in the chest. The creature was hurled backwards and landed at the feet of the newcomers who had emerged from the southern passage. A wolf darted form the passage then and circled around the far side of the well to join the hobgoblins on the north side of the well and Dulvarna moved to meet the creature. She slashed her blade across its muzzle and then cut into the side of the hobgoblin next to the wolf. The goblin gasped, gurgled and then pitched forward onto the floor. Behind her, Dulvarna heard the twang of Enlishia’s bow and heard Erlmoor roar as he charged the huge hobgoblin who had led the others in from the southern passage.
Erlmoor roared again and showered the chieftain in acid. The hobgoblin drew back and raised his shield but then came forward again. The paladin brought his blade down across his body to block the goblin’s spear and then moved left and then right, seeking an opening. At a barked command, another hobgoblin joined its leader shield to shield, spear and flail held forward to keep the dragonborn at bay and he began to pray silently. This would be a tough battle and he would need the aid of his companions. He only hoped that Lavren or Enlishia would aid him and not the accursed drow who had brought so much strife to their band already. Even as he finished his prayer he saw the spear come forward and lowered his blade a fraction too late. He drove the spear point downwards so that the shaft missed his belly but drove into the front of his hip instead. Blinding pain filled his mind as the spear struck bone and he staggered away with a grunt. He would not cry out and focused instead on breathing evenly and banishing the dizzying nausea he felt. To his left he heard Lavren cursing an enemy in elven and he heard the now familiar crackle of the black energy searing from his wand. The dragonborn hoped again that the elf would come to his aid but he knew the eldritch blast had been aimed elsewhere. There was still Enlishia, Enlishia would aid him. The nausea passed and he stepped forward just as a flail swept down at him. He raised his blade and parried, roaring his wrath at his enemies again. He saw a flash of silver then and a bolt of arcane energy lanced into the hobgoblin with the flail forcing it back a step. The tiefling was aiding him, Erlmoor realised. It was aid of a sort, the paladin decided, and he would be thankful for it.
Dulvarna Slashed at the wolf but it darted to her right as Kel charged into the battle and seized the drow’s left leg. With a jerk of its head, it dragged the drow from her feet to land with a thump on the hard stone floor next to the well. Dulvarna slashed at the wolf but it ducked the back out of her reach and then darted towards Kel. From the far side of the well she heard Erlmoor roar once again and glanced across to see the huge hobgoblin retreating a step and bleeding from a wounded sword arm. The hobgoblin stabbed out as Erlmoor came forward and drove its weapon into the dragonborn’s shoulder. Bother fell away from each other, bleeding and tired. The paladin needed help quickly, Dulvarna decided but she had to get past the enemies before her. She heard Erlmoor cry out then and saw that he had sunk to his knees.
“Aid him!!” Dulvarna snarled at Kel as the drow crawled away from the wolf and pushed herself to her feet.
“He would not aid me!!” the drow spat back and swung wildly at the wolf.
“Pray you never need him to!!” Dulvarna replied through gritted teeth and silently she cursed the drow and the trouble she had brought upon them herself.
Thira lowered her staff and called to mind a spell that she had never unleashed in anger before. She uttered the words, focused her mind and then felt the dizzying rush of power as a shimmering arrow of green, glowing liquid streaked to the hobgoblin with the flail and burst in a spray of sizzling acid. The hobgoblin cried out and took a step back from Erlmoor giving the paladin a moment of respite at least. To the left, Thira saw the huge wolf drag Kel from her feet once more and wondered whether she could yet aid the drow but then Dulvarna surged at the beast, drove her blade into its flank and drove it away again for a few moments. Beside Thira, Enlishia loosed an arrow at the acid burned hobgoblin that drove into its shoulder and drew another howl of pain from the creature. It reeled dangerously near the well and Erlmoor saw his chance. He thrust out with his sword, plunged it into the hobgoblin’s side and pitched it into the well. The dragonborn roared his triumph for a moment but then, as Thira watched in horror, the hobgoblin chieftain thrust his spear into the paladin’s side and with a gasp, he fell before his enemy. The hobgoblin gave his own triumphant roar and started towards Thira and Enlishia. Lavren lowered his wand and uttered desperate incantations and loosed black, crackling fire at the chieftain but it flew wide and struck the wall beyond the hobgoblin.
Enlishia watched as Kel struck desperately at the hobgoblin before her and knew she had to hold off the chieftain as he rounded the well. Thira loosed silver bolts from her staff but each missed the hobgoblin and struck the wall behind. Dimly, in the corner of one eye, Enlishia saw the wolf leap at Kel and push the drow to the ground while tearing at her throat. The ranger risked looking over and knew the drow would not get up once the wolf had finished. only Dulvarna’s blade saved the dark elf from being torn apart. Dulvarna dived forward and swung a huge blow at the wolf that cut down into its shoulder blades and saved the dark elf from being torn apart. Enlishia knew the battle was all but lost so she drew two arrows from her quiver and nocked them to her bow string. She loosed them at the same time but they split into the air and flew towards wolf and chieftain alike. One took the wolf in the throat and felled it with a whimper while the second struck the chieftain in the shoulder. The ranger threw down her bow and started towards the hobgoblin, drawing her sword as she ran. She met the huge goblin with her blade and brought it down on his shield with a ringing crash. The hobgoblin turned his body and threw her blade out wide before driving his spear low into her thigh. Enlishia recoiled as pain lanced through her leg and warm blood soaked her breeches. Enlishia turned away and cursed but saw Thira reach the edge of the well then. The tiefling unleashed flame from her staff to engulf the two hobgoblins that still faught but both raised their shields and protected themselves from the fire. Enlishia cursed again and then turned back to her enemies.
Dulvarna waited for the hobgoblin to come at her and as it leapt over the body of the wolf, she darted left. The chains of the goblin’s flail swished past her right shoulder and she stepped forward past the blow, slashing her blade down back of her enemy’s right leg. He twisted around and Dulvarna turned to meet him as he seemed to swing the flail in from her right. Instead, the goblin reversed his swing and brought the flail out wide to strike Dulvarna’s left shoulder, knocking her back a step past Kel’s sprawled form. The hobgoblin came on at Dulvarna, following her as she retreated towards Lavren until the elf loosed a blast of crackling black energy from his wand and halted the goblin. From the right, across the well, Dulvarna saw flashed of silver as Thira aided Enlishia who was retreating before the huge hobgoblin chieftain. They had little time, the warrior woman realised and so she summoned up all her pent up anger. With a roar she surged at the hobgoblin and swatted aside the flail with a powerful swing. She swung her sword back and knocked aside the shield before plunging her blade into the chest of her foe. With a gasp, the hobgoblin sank to his knees and then pitched over at her feet. Dulvarna leapt over the goblin and charged around the well, rushing at the chieftain’s back. He heard her coming and twisted at the last but her thrust, aimed originally at the small of his back, still drove into his hip and spun him around on the spot. Enlishia surged forward and pressed the hobgoblin from the other side and as she did so, searing black energy from Lavren’s wand struck the goblin’s side. The goblin staggered and a silver bolt from Thira’s staff passed just over top of his head. He thrust his spear towards Enlishia but she parried the wild thrust and Dulvarna stabbed her blade at the back of the chieftain, forcing him to turn desperately. Enlishia took her chance then, thrusting her blade high into the back of the hobgoblin’s neck and up into its skull. It staggered, fell to its knees and pitched forward on the stone floor.
“There is a stave here,” Thira called from the corner of the wide southern chamber. Three round pillars supported the ceiling of the high hall while filthy bedding had been heaped to the east around a smoldering campfire beneath the smoke hole that they had blocked from above. In this smoky corner, Thira had found the staff. She held it close to the dying light of the fire and saw that it was carved with lightning runes all over its surface and she knew instinctively that it would aid her when she learned to cast spells that called forth thunder and lightning. She decided to keep it, whatever her companions thought.
“And there is a coffin here,” Lavren called from the passage to the west.
Thira looked down at Kel and Erlmoor who were awake now and resting. The drow nodded faintly to show that she would be alright on her own and Thira started off after the others. Dulvarna, Lavren had Enlishia had determined quickly that the northern passage out of the well chamber led to what was once a guard room with a broken table and splintered chairs. A passage that had once led further north had long since been blocked by a cave in. They had relocated to the southern chamber where there were at least furs and a fire so that Erlmoor and Kel could rest and recover more easily.
Thira emerged into the western chamber, having found her way by the light from her staff and stopped in the entryway. A simple coffin, made of walnut wood, lay half open near the north wall of the chamber. The headless, half-pulverised skeleton of a humanoid was huddled in the middle of the room on the floor. The skeleton’s skull, which bore huge, sharp fangs, sat near the southeast corner of the room. A section of the far wall seemed smooth and polished as though the stonework were more recent than the surrounding walls.
“It seems we can go no further,” said Lavren.
“And yet the map seems to show a passage beyond this one,” said Thira, pulling the knot of wood from the
pouch at her belt. “The wall must be a later addition.”
“And may be breakable,” Lavren finished.
“And how exactly are we going to do that?” Enlishia asked.
“We’ll make a battering ram,” said Dulvarna and the decision was made.
“Well?” said Dulvarna, standing back from the tree trunk that she had been working on since they had risen that morning. Now one end was honed into a point and partly clad in metal with spear shafts bent along the point and tied to the trunk further back. Other ropes formed handles on each side of the trunk so that the whole could be carried comfortably between four people.
“Impressive,” said Lavren with his usual winning smile. “Any goblins’ll run a league before turning to fight us.”
“Very good,” Erlmoor rumbled. “Where’d you learn to make siege engines then? They didn’t teach you that in Eveningstar.” The dragonborn was genuinely curious for he had served the same temple as Dulvarna in the small village west of Arabel where they had grown up and there had been precious little chance to learn siege craft there.
“Makes sense really,” Dulvarna answered. “We’ll need support as we take it in. Kel and Thira should stay back and protect us. Some of the goblins might not run.” Her attempt at humour was forced and the others sensed it. They had checked the upper ruins once more at sunset the day before when they had cut down the tree that had become the ram and there were no other ways in. A passage, long caved in, lay to the west so anything beyond the wall was long dead or….something else.
“I’ll be ready,” answered Thira.
“As will I,” said Kel with a nod.
The wall crumbled at the second blow and as it did, it revealed that it was thin and had obviously been hastily constructed. A stale, musty smell burst from the passage beyond and as she held her staff up to illuminate the dark passage, she looked down at the ruined wall in horror. Claw marks were gouged into the other side of the stones.
“Something was imprisoned here,” she said nervously.
“Then it’s likely still there,” Kel added.
“We must be cautious,” Thira said and none the rest merely nodded, staring into the shadowy darkness ahead. Dulvarna started forward, her sword held before her while behind her came Erlmoor, his own sword held ready. Lavren followed with his wand held ready and Enlishia came behind him with an arrow nocked to her bow. She had replenished her quiver from the supplies that the goblins had gathered and was confident that she carried enough for any battle. Thira and Kel followed, the tiefling wearing the head of the hobgoblin chieftain on her belt both as a grisly trophy and so that they might claim their reward from the elves when they returned to them.
Dulvarna moved ahead down the tunnel and emerged into a a round crypt that held two stone sarcophagi and heaps of shattered pottery. Faded frescoes on the wall depicted a group of ancient nomadic nobles. A half-dozen couples lay on beds of fur and used hide saddles as pillows while they ate grapes to the accompaniment of a satyr’s double flute. Dulvarna waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadowy dark and felt rather than saw something move to her right. She turned, sword before her and dimly saw a horribly rotted corpse lurch from its bier and shamble towards her. To her left another corpse lashed out at her with a corrupted first and struck her shoulder. Zombies, she realised with horror. Animated corpses created using foul rituals that obeyed their creator to kill and consume the living. Others rose on their own, corrupted by dark energies from the Shadowfell, and slew all living things that crossed their paths.
“Zombies,” she cried out. “The dead walk in here.”
From beyond the circular crypt, seemingly coming from down a passage that led diagonally out of the room to the south west came an inhuman screech as though some dark creature, perhaps darker than the corpses that flailed at Dulvarna, were in pain or wrathful. Dulvarna worked her blade back and forth to keep the zombies at bay and prayed that whatever was coming would not come quickly. Her prayer could not have been heard for moments later, into the chamber swept another dead thing clad in tattered dark robes and with pale red lightning playing about its fingertips. It paused in the corridor entrance and began chanting in some foul, dark tongue. Dulvarna had never seen its like before in the tomes she had read in the temple where she had been raised but she knew it was a terrible thing and she began to pray silently once more.
Enlishia burst into the chamber behind Dulvarna and immediately threw aside her bow and drew her sword as the zombies came at her. She lashed out and cut into a flailing arm but the dead creature paid it no mind. She looked to the robed figure and knew that she had to reach him before he ended his chanting but she was too hard pressed by the zombies to shift around the chamber.
Lavren came up behind Enlishia and found his way into the crypt blocked by the battle with the zombies. He uttered a phrase in elven then and focused his mind on the far side of the crypt. He felt his body suddenly seem to be compressed and the ground vanished from beneath his feet. An instant later he reappeared in the opposite passage opening on the far side of the crypt with his wand in hand. He uttered a curse at the nearest zombie and leveled his wand. Alas, the zombie seemed to here his fey curse and turned towards him, shambling as quickly as it could towards him. He held out his wand but could not call forth a spell in time. The zombie swatted his hand aside and drew blood from his arm with its claw-like nails. The elf fell back into the passageway entrance and reached out again with his wand.
Another terrible screech heralded the arrival of another of the robed figures and it too began chanting in the middle of the crypt. Thira, Erlmoor and Kel heard the screech and pushed ahead without knowing what awaited them in the room ahead beyond the shadowy forms that they could dimly see ahead by the light of the tiefling’s staff. Alas, Enlishia and Dulvarna blocked the entrance to the corridor and for the moment were hard pressed leaving the others helpless. Just then, Dulvarna slashed her blade across the chest of the nearest zombie and spun to her left towards the two robed figures. Thira looked down the, now empty, hallway ahead of her to the zombie that floundered around to its left to strike at its evasive foe. She leveled her stave and prepared a spell.
Dulvarna felt the zombie’s fist club the back of her head and staggered. The robed figure before her brought its rotten, clawed hand up in a lashing motion then and took her under the chin, sending her reeling back towards the zombies and spraying blood towards the chamber ceiling. Enlishia leapt to Dulvarna’s aid then, her sword slashing out at the other robed creature and keeping it at bay. The two regained their stances with their backs to the south eastern wall of the circular chamber their blades before them and ravenous undead clamoring forward for their blood. Enlishia winked at Dulvarna who managed a weak smile.
“The others are coming,” said Enlishia.
“Pray that they are,” Dulvarna answered.
Lavren retreated into the corridor opposite the entrance and leveled his wand shakily at the zombie as it followed him into the darkness. With an uttered phrase he loosed crackling black energy at the creature but his aim was poor and the blast seared past the creature’s left shoulder to strike the ceiling of the crypt. The zombie flailed wildly at the elf and he stepped back further into the passageway, hoping fervently that no other enemies lurked behind him.
Dulvarna ducked to the left as the robed undead creature loosed a bolt of crimson fire lightning at her and as she twisted, she saw Thira battle her way into the chamber with her stave slashing left and right with her newfound stave. Erlmoor followed her, battling the zombie in the entrance and behind came Kel, the holy symbol that she had never shown to any of the band, including Thira, now held before her. She chanted in the tongue of the drow and dark fire leapt out towards the nearest zombie. The creature cowered from the dark elf and then, seemingly with an act of will, it held whatever remained of its nerve and turned on Erlmoor fiercely. Dulvarna slashed out at the zombie to her right and then twisted to the left after the robed creature. The zombie flailed at her but she paid it no mind, focusing all her attention now upon the terrible robed creatures. The leftmost of the two turned its terrible, glowing purple eyes upon her then and opened its mouth wide to let forth a terrible screech and as it did so, its terrible visage became more horrific. An unnatural force struck Dulvarna then and shoved her back across the chamber until she struck the northern wall and slumped down, stunned and winded. Enlishia, too was pushed into the wall behind her and the terrible creatures both cackled in morbid amusement. Enlishia took up her bow from where she had left it against the wall and nocked two arrows, firing both at the same time towards the two creatures. Both flew wide of their undead targets and the cackling went on.
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