Dusk in the land of Fading Stars - Femerus' Story hour (updated 2-20-03)

[Femerus the Gnecro]

Nearly six hours after dusk, much of the ambient noise from the surrounding countryside suddenly ceases. The party is just about to investigate when several axes imbed themselves in the ground, making an obvious perimeter around the party. Only the Dwarf can see the vast number of Orcs surrounding the hill, but he neglects to mention it to the party, fearing that they would be overwhelmed by fear. Before Damek can even begin to speak, a contingent of Orcs moves up to surround the party, attacking from all directions at once. Only Kerim’s preternatural agility keeps his head attached to his shoulders, while the Dwarf handily blocks the attacks of no less than four orcs intent on destroying one of their hated blood-foes.

Before the battle can degenerate into an all-out melee, however, Damek stands up and shouts an Orcish phrase into the night, as loud as his Elven voice will allow.

“Hail orcs! We mean you no harm. We come to speak to you about the Barikbaree!”

Surprisingly, the Orcs stop themselves mid-swing, ending the attack as quickly as it had begun. One Orc approaches from outside the fire’s light, his rough hide armor adorned with all manner of skulls, feathers and teeth.

“What you know about Barikbaree, Elf?”

Damek goes on to explain to the Orc that he may be in a position to retrieve it and return it to its rightful caretakers. After a small amount of debate, the party is taken to a meeting with the Orc chief, where they are instructed in the ways of Orc etiquette.

“You will call him Lord. You will pay him homage. If you do not each give him gifts, he will be offended, and will order you to die most likely. You do not know our ways, so be careful of your actions. If you look at the ground, do not look at him. If you look at him, do not look at the ground. He will see all of you as either subordinates or peers. If you attempt to be both, he will have you killed and eat your heart.”

The hall of the Orc chief is much as one would expect. The hall is lit with torches, and is lined with furs and the bounty of raids. At the center of the hall, an Orc who seems to have seen many battles sits upon a large stone chair. Several goblins are running back and forth getting him things to look at from the pile of treasures. When he sees the party, he bears his teeth and leans forward, as if ready to pounce on potential prey.

"You have five minutes of my time, bloodfoes."

Damek approaches the Orclord and begins to speak, acting as courteous and obsequious as he would in any Elven court. This show of respect seems to greatly amuse the Chief, and he relaxes a bit. They discuss the Barikbaree at length, finally agreeing that if the party returns it to the Orcs, they will cease their attacks upon the city of Darumont.

“Take it from the human city and return here with it. Barikbaree would not be far from the hands of those who stole it long ago- or their children.”

***

By dawn, the party has once again reached the outskirts of Darumont. Despite the early hour, summer’s oppressive heat already beats heavily atop their heads, a feeling made all the worse by the everpresent humidity inherent in this dusty, coastal city. Weary, dirty and hungry, Lucien opens the door to the Seven Stars Tavern, which has only just recently opened for the day. The innkeep, startled at this sudden influx of dawn business, does a double-take upon seeing Kerim.

“Oy… you Kerim?”

Kerim turns to the innkeeper, startled. “Uh… yeah, that’s me.”

The innkeeper then produces a small wooden box. “The chap that dropped this off said not to open it in public, and erm… oh yes, ‘use it if you have to, to secure your dealings.’ That was it." Kerim pockets it without thinking, far more eager to eat some breakfast than to deal with new mysteries. Lucien, on the other hand, is more curious.

“Excuse me... what did the courier look like?” The innkeeper thinks for a moment before giving a description.

“Just like any other bloke... he had dark hair. Oh... but he did have Spire Eyes, for sure." Lucien thanks him and digs into his own breakfast with nearly as much gusto as Kerim.

(author’s note: ‘Spire Eyes’ is a term to describe a peculiar physical trait that tends to develop among people who live near the Spire for long periods of time. Shining gold flecks tend to appear in their eyes, and remain until death. Theologians believe it may be an aftereffect of drinking the water from the lake at the base of the Spire. Given the Spire’s mythological origins, this hypothesis seems as likely as any other)

After a hearty meal, the party retires back to their rooms, Damek checking on Merileene and Saryna before he gets some much needed rest. Saryna, it seems, is doing much better, though Merileene has all but exhausted herself caring for her. Not surprisingly, the two are both asleep, though Saryna’s color has regained much of its former hue.

Before dropping into bed, Kerim decides to examine the mysterious box, cautiously checking it for traps (via the ‘shake it a bit’ method). Damek casts Detect Magic on it, but senses no aura. Kerim finally opens the box to reveal a small velvet bag. As Kerim holds it, a dagger of some black substance slides out. Even a passing glance betrays its apparent value; the hilt is composed of entwined snakes, gilded in gold- their eyes small rubies, their fangs ivory. The blade itself does not look to be composed of metal. Instead, it looks and feels as though it were made of some type of smoky crystal. Out of curiosity, Lucien casts Detect Magic at the blade again, and this time it radiates a strong aura of Necromancy. A cursory search of the box reveals a thin layer of lead, just thick enough to block most divination spells. However, physical exhaustion wins out over Halfling curiosity, and after getting Lucien to agree to Identify the dagger after a nice nap, Kerim and the rest of the party quickly drop off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

[Femerus the Gnecro]

The next morning, after having slept for over two days, Saryna awakens to find her wounds mostly healed and her friends all sprawled out on their beds, fully clothed and smelling of Orc. In exasperation, she awakens Merileene and, out of a rare sense of gratitude, buys her breakfast. Then, either out of a sense of kindness or a sense of ironic humor (the latter being far more likely), Saryna drags Merileene out into the town to ‘scope out the menfolk,’ much to Merileene’s embarrassment.

Meanwhile, at around noon, everyone else wakes up. Lucien immediately begins to Identify the dagger, making it quite clear that any interruptions during the next 8 hours would be greatly unappreciated. Damek, understanding Lucien’s need for solitude, takes Kerim out into the town, hoping to scrounge up some clue about the spear’s whereabouts. Their first method of deduction fails mightily.

“Okay… if you were an ancient Orcish spear, and you were in Darumont, where would *you* be?”

“I don’t know. I’m an Elf, not a spear.”

“Damn.”

Obviously, a different tactic is needed. Luckily, Damek has a flash of insight (better known to those ‘in the know’ as memory).

“Hmmm.. I seem to recall some name in the text we read earlier. However the name escapes me.” Kerim thinks long and hard, finally remembering a clue as well.

“Wait... Lucien mentioned it! Sounded like ‘el diablo’ or something.” Damek’s confused look nearly makes Kerim laugh out loud.

“Uh… El Diablo? Somehow that doesn’t sound right.” After sounding it out a dozen more times, Kerim finally arrives at the true name… ‘L. Diario’ or ‘Diario L.’

Another flash of insight motivates our heroes to seek out the town doctor, hypothesizing that as an adventurer, Diario L. would have had frequent need for his services. Though Diario’s escapades with the Orcs occurred nearly fifty years ago, small remote towns such as Darumont tend to keep professions rather linear and thus, might have records about him.

This time, their theory proves to be correct.

Kerim takes the lead, posing as an author. The doctor, after his requisite offer of head drilling, bleeding and exorcism, is quite willing to speak about his famous patients, and those of his medical trainer. As it turns out, Diario Leel was one of his medical trainer’s most frequent patients, often complaining of sleeplessness and headaches.

At the mention of the name ‘Leel’ Kerim blanches, and Damek turns a somewhat paler shade of Elf. They recover their composure quickly however, and manage to get Leel’s address out of the doctor before leaving.

Kerim is the first to speak. “LEEL!? The same guy who nearly killed Saryna at the carnival?” Damek nods his head, not particularly pleased by this turn of events.

“His son at any rate. At least he probably feels bad for cutting us up as badly as he did. Maybe he’d give us the spear out of guilt?” Damek looks hopeful, but Kerim’s snort shatters his illusions of simplicity.

“Not likely. I’m sure he’s a nice enough guy when he’s sober, but I doubt he’ll just give the spear up. I bet if we convince him that he could save the town from Orc attacks that he’d be more willing.”

After a few more blocks, they arrive at 34 Fatte street, an address which apparently reminds Kerim of his sister. After steeling themselves for the worst possible scenario, Damek knocks on the door of the man who very nearly killed them all a scant two nights ago.

 

[Femerus the Gnecro]

Between updates, I thought I'd post a map of the area surrounding Darumont. After all, everyone loves maps. Enjoy!

-F

 

[Femerus the Gnecro]

The door opens, and the man who stands before them is hardly recognizable as the drunk, pathetic wretch who so severely thrashed them at the carnival. This man is tall, clean-shaven and powerful, holding himself with an air of calm self-confidence. Though he does not appear to be carrying any weapons, his presence nevertheless instills a sense of awe upon the two adventurers standing outside his door. Tobias studies them for a moment, a glimmer of recognition finally showing in his eyes.

“What can I do for you gentl… Oh! It’s you! Please, come in.” The two men enter Tobias’ home and take a seat on the proffered couch, sitting across from their host. Kerim, still a bit nervous, jumps straight to the point.

“Should we go through the whole pleasantry bit, or should we just skip to the part where we start talking about what we came here for?” Kerim speaks so quickly that Tobias spends a few moments blinking before he answers. His voice takes on a more cautious tone than before.

“What did you come for?”

“Well... we think we can stop the Orcs from attacking the city, and we think that you can help us. Assuming, that is, that you're the son of Diario Leel?”

Tobias’ eyes narrow slightly, but neither of his guests notice. “I am.” After Tobias’ confirmation, Kerim continues, far more relaxed.

“Then you are probably familiar with his escapades against he Orcs about... fifty years ago?”

Tobias nods slowly. “I am well aware of his actions. What can I do for you gentlemen?” Kerim, finally picking up on the ever-growing tone of menace from Tobias, blanches a bit, but continues.

“Okay... then you probably know the location of the spear of... uh... *help me out here damek*” Damek looks at Kerim and rolls his eyes.

“Barikbaree.” Kerim nods.

“That’s right. Bark-bark Tree.”

Tobias sighs softly, as though expecting the conversation to turn in this direction. “I know of the spear. Why do you ask?”

“Well... it just so happens that we've discovered that the increase in orc hostilities over the last 50 years is directly related to the taking of the spear by your father, and we have good reason to believe that if the spear is returned, the Orcs will stop attacking the city in vain attempts to retrieve it.” Kerim looks at Tobias intently, as though expecting him to pull out the spear and give it to them.

Tobias sits back in his chair and remains silent for some time, as though contemplating something. After a while, he speaks. “That would not surprise me. However, the Orcs cannot have their spear back.” The trio sits for a few minutes in silence, Damek playing with his spell component pouches while Kerim picks at his fingernails intently. Tobias does not move, save to blink. Finally, Kerim breaks the silence.

“Uh… just out of curiosity… why not!?” Tobias regards him passively and speaks, as though out of rote.

“My father was instructed to take it from their leader, and he did. He was instructed to keep it safe here, and he has. He instructed me to guard it, and I have.” Damek begins to speak before Tobias is even finished.

“Instructed? By whom? And to what purpose?” Tobias shakes his head.

“I was never told this.”

Kerim, looking flustered and feeling powerless, jumps back into the conversation. “And your father's dying wish, the reasons for which you were not even informed, is more important than the safety of this entire town?”

Leel locks gazes with Kerim for a moment before speaking, speaking volumes with his eyes alone.

“Yes.”

“But… you don’t even know why?”

“I do not need to know why. You do not need to know why you live to do so… I do not need to know why I guard. I simply do so. It is my birthright. My father swore to guard it till his dying day, and I swore to him I would guard it to mine. My children will guard it to the grave as well.”

“Is it by any chance a spear with a raven black iron head?” asks Kerim, suddenly remembering his conversation with the nutball psychic lady. For a moment, Tobias’ composure cracks a bit as his quickly glances at Kerim, but then he relaxes again.

“Yes, that is a fair description of it. Would you care for something? May I serve you some tea, or food?” At the mention of food, Kerim’s eyes brighten somewhat. Damek, however, is still in ‘interrogation’ mode.

“And this Barikbaree… you keep it safe within this building?” For a brief moment, Tobias voice grows cold… as cold as it was during their encounter at the carnival, albeit less slurred.

“We have spoken enough of the spear, sir.”

As Tobias goes into the kitchen to prepare some refreshment for his guests, Kerim switches to Elven and whispers softly to Damek.

“Damek! I just had a disturbing thought. You remember that dagger that was delivered to me last night? I think the sender intended for me to use it on Tobias! It’s all beginning to make sense… the necromantic aura of the blade, the message from the courier, our constant manipulations. Someone wants us to take this spear from Tobias, and they don’t care how we do it!”

As Tobias returns with a tray of biscuits and boiling water, Kerim fingers the strange dagger in his pouch absently, wondering if its power was enough to bring down a man such as Tobias Leel in one hit. The thought gives him an exhilaration, as though a rush of power imbued his arm with the power of death… at the same time, however, a sick feeling comes over Kerim at the thought of taking an innocent life, and he removes his hand from the pouch as Tobias begins to brew the tea.

 

[clark411]

Hello, Femerus is letting me work to also update the Story Hour. As DM for the campaign, I may present things a little differently- if there are any questions or comments, please do reply. Cheers!

“My thanks, Mr. Leel.” Kerim said graciously as Tobias Leel placed the silver tray of food and tea on the small, wooden table before them. If there was anything halflings knew, regardless of their place and status in the world or the company they kept, it was how to act when tea and biscuits was before them. Thinking back, Kerim fancied that his brief encounter with the orcs could have gone far more smoothly if a tea set was involved.

Damek, on the other hand, was at a loss. Tea was something an enigma to elven kind, their’s was a land where rain water came from the sky cold, and stayed cold in the rivers, no doubt for good reason. The metal of the frail kettle’s handle felt awkward in his hand, which was accustomed to carrying canes and grasping large mugs of crude ale from time to time; for the humans who were watching, of course. As he was over-careful in pouring the tea, Damek voice cracked as his fingers shook slightly from the pressure of such ceremony, “So, Mr. Tobias—have you any family here in Darumont?”

Glad to be speaking of things other than the burden of his father, himself, and eventually that of his children, Tobias’ face relaxed slightly. “No, no family here. I do have two sons however, both in the Legion. My eldest Rastand turns 29 in several months; he’s a lieutenant, and my youngest is Severin. He shall be a fine Captain one day. They make me proud.”

Kerim chimed in “Oh, I have heard of the Legion. While I was traveling through Illuvia proper a good three years back I watched a parade. They were quite impressive; all shiny in the summer sun—I bet it must have been dreadful hot for them.”

“The Imperial uniforms do get incredibly hot, that I will most definitely agree to.”

“They didn’t seem to mind it a bit though. All trained and proper soldiers walking in tune. I think my sister wanted to join once.” Kerim smiled.

“Did she?” Damek asked.

“No, apparently the food is horrible.” Replied the halfling.

“Ah, makes sense.” Damek paused, looking in the dark tea he had been holding before his face for a good minute now. “Mr. Leel, you were in the Legion, were you not?”

Tobias looked down a bit, remembering vaguely his confrontation with the firebrand at the fair. “Yes, yes I was—but that was long ago.”

With his eye for people, Kerim almost immediately saw an chance for the spear. “It seems like you miss it, sir. At the fair you mentioned taking your post.”

“Oh I do, Mr. Kerim. The Legion is an excellent way to see the world. We would march from one side of Anaroth to the other and back again. I have seen the shining snows of Sarminor, felt the sea breezes of Brinbane across my face. My love was a maiden from Velormiar, who lived in a great manor on a green hill surrounded by a waving sea of stunning lilacs. The world my friend, is an amazing thing. Even with my view obscured by a helm and with my mind filled at times with nothing but duty, the chance,” he paused “the mere chance to see the world and find my place in it was incredible.”

Kerim’s eyes were wide and even a little bit moist. He blinked a bit and nodded “I understand you completely Mr. Leel. Did you find your place?”

“Perhaps. Ultimately, it is unimportant.”

“Forgive me for bringing this up again, but aren’t you upset that your distinguished career and journeys took you to this?” he looked around the somewhat unkept walls that surrounded the worn chairs and rather smallish table at the center of the room. “I mean you no disrespect, but it must rankle you that your duties were cut short by your father’s need of you. Does it concern you that one day you’ll cut one of your son’s careers short by asking that he take on your position here as guardian? Guardian of a spear that may doom this town as the orc raids continue? Guardian of an orcish spear you know nothing about?”

It pained Kerim to see his words cutting deep into Tobias. “When I left the Legions to guard the spear I was ready,” he said slowly, his words wavering. The room was silent again for a moment, and at this point Damek decided that the tea was cool enough to drink.

Water that tasted like leaves. “How novel.” He said to himself.

“Have either of you considered joining the Legions?” Tobias asked, pushing the conversation away from sons, loves, and distant lands.

“Oh, I don’t think we halflings fit in well to the regimented life of a soldier. We don’t fit into the uniforms and armor either.”

“I doubt they would welcome one of my kind. It is unlikely that they would appreciate my talents as a weaver of magic either.”

Tobias slowly shook his head in disagreement. “War mages are extremely rare and highly valued. However, I can see both of your points. The Legion is perhaps not for everyone.”

Kerim nodded, “We value our freedom a great deal. I guess it is what makes us content in the long run. After all, it is contentment and happiness that you want to pass on to your children at the end of the day. Not that I’m anywhere near the end of my wanderings!”

Tobias gave him a slight smile and nodded to the sentiment. The three drank tea for another hour, and shared stories both true and fanciful. As Kerimleft, he had a new found appreciation for Tobias, his home, and his hospitality. As Tobias closed his door, he found in himself a deep and true desire to see the world again—to walk down the street as the youthful Kerim and far-seeing Damek did. And as for Damek, despite himself he had a new appreciation for tea.

For elves, tea is an intoxicant.

 

[clark411]

Kerim and Damek walked and very nearly stumbled, respectively, into the common room of the tavern. Quickly spotting Lucien, Merileene, and Saryna at one of the tables, Kerim hopped up onto one of the seats, his hand darting up to indicate “one of whatever you think I want you to get me to drink with your incredible mind reading skills” to the nearest passing waitress, who huffed slightly passing this information onto the barmaid who was actually responsible for the group’s table. After a few minutes, a flagon of ale arrived and Kerim was half way through the replay of his conversation with Tobias. Damek, who was somewhat being put on the sidelines of the story by the halfing’s bravado, seemed to care little—instead running through his mind the possibility of this tavern serving tea. By the time Kerim had finished the story, he had also finished his ale, and Merileene was softly laughing at the look on Damek’s face as the only dainty cup in the entire tavern was placed infront of the elf with steaming hot tea in it. Damek mumbled under his breath and softly moved his fingers over his tea—little lines of light flowing softly behind. The prestidigitation went off without a hitch, cooling the tea to tolerable levels. He smiled.

Unlike Damek, Lucien seemed to be all business. “So, you walked away with little more than giving his heart a few jabs. I suppose that’s beneficial.”

“Well, they were the only types of jabs I could bring myself to give him. Anyways, I doubt we could have taken the Barik Baree by force if we wanted to.”

“Indeed. Perhaps we could sneak in there when he is out getting himself as drunk as Damek.” Lucien eyed the elf, who was quite rosy in the cheeks with a rather empty cup before him.

“Drunk? From tea?” Saryna began to laugh, drawing a few looks from the rest of the crowd.

Damek muttered “You should try it, milady.”

Merileene smiled, and then returned to the issue at hand. “Well, I for one do not like the idea of stealing this spear. We don’t know enough to take it by force or stealth. If anything, we should be working to put all the pieces of this curious situation together. Why did Tobias’ father take the spear and what is so important about it that he keeps it? What happened to the other members of the group that helped him get the spear? Maybe they would have some insight.”

The rest of the group looked at each other and then back to the usually silent Merileene. “I’m not one to often say this to priests, Meri—but you really should pipe up more often!” Lucien said. Before Merileene could so much as blush and thank him, the rest of the group was up and walking out of the tavern towards the Doctor’s office again—all except for Damek. Merileene slowly helped him up and they followed the others.

The doctor welcomed them into his office again and barely had time to offer Lucien a hole in his head to help the evil spirits and bad humors escape when Kerim interjected “The others! What do you know about them?”

“What others?” the doctor asked, quite confused.

“Those who Tobias’ father Diario traveled with. We need any information you could provide.”

Somewhat flustered, the doctor replied “Well, Diario traveled with a four companions. One of them apparently died to an arrow on their final journey into the orcish lands. Sadly the could not recover his body as the orcs chased them. None of them even saw it. Then there was Jerik, the woodsman. He retired to the east, and I believe he lives now in the forest. The other two, one was an elven woman and the other I can hardly remember at all. The elven woman refused all of my treatments as barbarism, I remember that much. The man, I think his name was Davion, Davion Tir. He never seemed to need any of my healing anyway. The others would tell me stories about how nothing bothered him, no combat alarmed him, and how he was always as smooth as a morning pond in quiet weather. Then there was Meiir-- he was quite shifty it seemed; nothing ever got past that boy. He was a goodly fellow though, wouldn't hurt a fly even if he seemed rather terse at times. The only one around here though is Jerik. Davion returned to the city of Shard, the elven woman vanished, and Meiir died on their last adventure.”

“Right, right. So Jerik the woodsman lives in the forest to the east.” Kerim said hurriedly.

“Yes.” The doctor nodded. With a quick thanks and a handshake or two, the halfling and the others were out the door again. An hour later, they were packing their things despite the dwarf’s grumblings.

“We’re leaving half an hour before supper to find some ancient woodsman in Salacero Forest? Tonight’s special is mutton! Kerim talk sense into them!”

“Sorry Master Dwarf, tonight all we’re eating is trail rations.”

“Blast it all!” the Dwarf stomped a foot in a manner nearly childlike.


By nightfall, the party was standing before the gates of Eastwater, a town of modest proportions and extravagant wooden fortifications. Nestled in a misty, forested valley, the people had exactly two things in excess: superstitions, and enough wood to guard themselves against any of them that possibly were real. One of the guards atop the gates ordered them to halt, and then tossed down one of the arrows from his quiver to them. “Pick it up, and hold it against your skin for us to see. Aye, that’s it—put a torch up to it so we can see aye?”

Each of them did as told, and the dwarf asked curiously: “Why do they use silver arrow heads?”

Lucien smirked a bit “I think these folk fear myths of things that pray upon men in the night. Werewolves perhaps. Quaint.”

They were allowed in town, and found their way to the nearest tavern, hoping to ask people where Jerik the woodsman lived. The Tavern itself, called The Grinning Goblin, welcomed them warily. Passing under cloves upon cloves of garlic, and past several posts upon which flasks labled “holy water” were hanging, they sat down at the bar and began the methodical task of pressing the bartender for questions. When they were pleased, they inquired about some ale, dinner, and rooms. The dwarf was content, as a plate of mutton was placed before him.

“Fancy the luck!” he smiled broadly beneath his beard.

Morning came, and armed with the information they heard the previous night, they were off heading to the south and west several miles into the forest, searching for a small cabin. After several hours of searching, they found the house. Cautiously approaching, they found it quite empty. They searched the small home and found that it had been ravaged by time and perhaps by several forest animals. The door had scratches on it, the windows were glittering shards on the creaking floor boards.

Damek paced back and forth across the room considering the possibilities of the woodsman’s whereabouts when he noticed that his pacing was creating an odd rhythm. Creaking, then no creaking, then creaking again. He stopped where the creaking did, and upon close inspection found that there was an well concealed trapdoor. Kerim was able to get it open by sliding two pins along the lines of the door, undoing the latch that locked it. They traveled down the earthen stairs to the cellar, which seemed to be made with little more than a shovel.

Before them was an empty bow rack, a cabinet, and a desk. The cabinet was empty, but the desk was not. Within it was a journal, which Lucien began to carefully flip through, his eyes slowing only to turn the pages with care. Saryna, left to her devices, casually looked at the empty bow rack, her slender fingers slowly moving across the wooden holders. At the lowest set of holders however, she felt something—despite not seeing anything, she felt a wooden bow there. Slowly, she picked it up with both hands, amazed that she was grasping something that, to all senses but touch, was not there. She grasped as though she were in combat, and suddenly it appeared before her—a beautiful composite longbow of ancient oak. Beautiful elven runes ran in rivulets down the sides of the bow towards her hands, and as her hand held it those runes felt the elven blood flowing through her fingers. They glowed a fey green.

Lucien closed the book. “Well, this is what I have gathered. Jerik the woodsman did indeed live here until a month or two ago when the journal ends. Sadly this tells us little of the party, as it begins little over two years ago, but it does give an indication as to his possible current whereabouts. In his time here, it seems he guarded Eastwater and ventured there monthly. While there, he heard stories of some people being lost in the forest, and then accounts of a dark monster killing animals in the night. Hunting dogs were lost on occasion as well. He found a cave, and his last entry stated that he would, despite his fears, enter it and attempt to do battle with the beast.

“If the beast be intelligent, perhaps he is alive. If he killed it, perhaps the trail will continue on from there. If he is dead, well—perhaps he will have on his person something that will help us rid Tobias of his duties.” He finished.

“Righto. Sounds like a plan to me.” Kerim nodded, looking around the room. “Hey, where is Saryna?”

They all looked around. Saryna, standing in plain sight with the bow, was somewhat perturbed, especially as she was holding a bow that was glowing green. “I’m right here.” She said.

They looked at the bow rack.

“I didn’t know you had such skills in ventriloquism!” Kerim seemed overjoyed, tip-toe-ing towards the closed cabinet.

“I’m not in the cabinet Kerim.”

“My, apparently you can see through wood now as well!?” he grinned, trying to move even quieter.

Realizing her situation, armed with a bow that apparently was making her invisible, Saryna could do little but grin at the possibilities. This could make me a tidy sum, she thought.

 

[Femerus the Gnecro]

Saryna’s mental revelry was rudely cut short by Kerim, whose unbridled curiosity culminated in a head-on collision with Saryna’s invisible form. Stopping suddenly, Kerim felt the air in front of him, unsure whether he was going blind, or whether Saryna was, in fact, invisible. A gasp of indignation from Saryna, accompanied by a full-bodied slap from an invisible hand led Kerim to conclude the latter.

“Saryna! You’re invisible?” With the heads of her companions turning towards her, Saryna slung the bow behind her, ending its magic. As the glowing runes faded, Saryna winked back into existence.

“Apparently.”

Lucien slammed the journal onto the desk with a crash, a look of irritation upon his face.

“We have no time for frivolities. Unless you all would like to spend the night in these woods, I suggest we return to the issue at hand.”

Saryna snorted, and Kerim turned to look at Lucien with a pained look on his face. Saryna was the first to speak.

“I can find the cave… just give me an an hour.”

Less than an hour later, Saryna’s word proved to be true. A cave loomed before them, the product of thousands of years of erosion and tectonic shifts. The rocks at the entrance, slick with moisture, led downwards… disappearing into the darkness after only a few feet.

The Dwarf was the first to approach, stepping to the mouth of the cave to use his Dwarven sight on the impenetrable darkness below.

“Looks like quite a fall… I’m not su…WHOA!” The Dwarf’s monologue was cut short as a stone beneath his foot broke loose… sending him sliding down into the damp darkness of the cave. For a moment, the rest of the party stood staring in shock… almost bemused by the Dwarf’s predicament. Then, as if in afterthought, Kerim dove after the Dwarf, sliding nimbly down the stones into the darkness. Even before he landed, Kerim could hear the muted curses of the others as they found themselves sliding down the rocks with even less control than the Dwarf.

Moments later, the party found themselves enshrouded in darkness, piled on top of each other, knee deep in water. Only the Dwarf had a chance of seeing anything, and he was at the bottom of the pile. With a grunt, the Dwarf stood, throwing his companions in several directions.

The sounds of the caves were echoed tenfold… the dripping of water, the breathing of the party, the rocks settling… and also an unidentifiable *click-clack-clack* sound, which seemed to echo from the very walls themselves. With a curse, the Dwarf looked upwards and drew his axe, his muscles clenched in readiness for combat. Before he can even shout a warning to the others… the party is attacked from all directions, stabbed, poisoned and slashed with the weapons of countless unseen foes.

It took a few moments for Damek to gain his bearings, but finally he managed to loose a simple light spell, illuminating the mass of giant spiders crawling on and around the hapless group of adventurers.