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<blockquote data-quote="Galfridus" data-source="post: 18223" data-attributes="member: 119"><p><strong>Thorald's Adventure, Part 2</strong></p><p></p><p>Tiesa returns the next day, bringing you water and more of the village’s strange food, which you consume eagerly. In response to your questions, she only smiles and shakes her head. "You will learn more when the time comes." She leaves through one of the windows (a different one than Kradiat used), and you perceive that the room is on a steep hill; from the view afforded you, you can see no ground directly outside any of the windows. You spend the day resting, stronger than the day before but still weak.</p><p></p><p>The day after you are awakened by Kradiat. Several others stand in the chamber, dressed in blues, reds, and greens: an elderly man, a red-haired woman, and a young man with the glint of chain armor beneath his shirt. All seem unbothered by the cold, wet breeze blowing through the room. "Thorald Stone," Kradiat declares, "you are welcome in this village until you have rested and recovered, as I have previously said. However, it occurred to me that perhaps you wished to remain longer, as your future travels seem uncertain at best. In that light, the village will have you for a season, as long as you agree to perform three tasks that we shall name." He pauses. "You may consider this, if you like, but the name and nature of the tasks will not be revealed." </p><p></p><p>You think for a few moments, under the gazes of the four villagers. "I do not need more time – I have no way to get where I need to go, and no way to know how to get there. I accept your offer."</p><p></p><p>Kradiat nods, and the four bow. "Then it is agreed." The other three turn and depart through separate windows. Beyond, the dawn light glows on a steep mountain slope. Kradiat sits beside your bed once again. "Your tale, of Rellenor, and Magehaven – the Head of Artisans agreed to accept that as your first task." He smiles briefly. "And now I have a promise to keep. Today I shall tell you what I can of our village. Tomorrow, I think, you should be well enough to see it for yourself."</p><p></p><p>"We dwell high in the mountains, alone. There are no others nearby, just wilderness and the terrors that wilderness conceals. You did well to stay here; I do not think you have the power to survive alone, even if were able to determine the direction you might take."</p><p></p><p>"We were established here, and in many other places, as sites of meeting, of negotiation, and of peaceful retreat. In the days of your empire, we were numerous and our places plentiful. But those times passed, and in the region you know, we are the only remnant." He eyes you closely. "We are not human, as you may have guessed, but I think that matters little for your purposes, or ours." He shrugs. "We are human enough in most things. But more than that, the details of our purposes, of the history that we know, I cannot tell you. Some may be made clear, by those beyond myself in authority. We are not evil, by any measure that I am aware of, although you may find us strange or foreign." You begin with a question, but he raises his hand. "Enough for now – I have another matter to attend to." He rises and strides toward a window. "Tomorrow, you shall see for yourself."</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>A strange creaking sound awakens you the following day. Something seems to be scratching at the floor. Then, suddenly, a metal hinge squeaks open, and a large wooden object crashes to the floor just beyond your bed. You sit up in surprise, as Tiesa rises into view. </p><p></p><p>"Good morning!" she calls, then puts a hand to her mouth. "Oops, forgot something!" She ducks down, and you hear a clattering from what be a room beneath yours. "Just a moment!" her voice calls from below, echoing off stone walls. Then there is a series of creakings, and she appears again, climbing up from below. "Now, do you think you can stand today?" </p><p></p><p>You nod, and slowly rise from the bed. Your feet feel a little shaky, but soon you feel confident that you are recovered from your ordeal. You make your way toward the nearest window, but Tiesa stops you. "Oh no—let’s go down first, and get a view from the outside, shall we?" She leads you to the foot of the bed, where an old-looking ladder peaks up from a wide trap door. "I’ll go down first, and you can follow," she calls, dropping through the trap door, her hands skimming the edges of the ladder. You hear her feet strike ground below, then she calls out, "Alright, come down!"</p><p></p><p>You descend slowly, into a dim and dusty room. Light streams through a small doorway, revealing stone walls and a packed earth floor. Supplies are stacked in the room: cloth, wood, chests, strange curved swords, chain armor, etc. Tiesa stands by the door, gesturing. "Come on, outside!" You walk as quickly as you are able to the doorway and pass through, staring at what lies beyond.</p><p></p><p>The village lies on a high meadow, nestled between several stern mountain peaks. Long fields of grass slope gently away from a series of ancient, graceful stone towers. Several people are visible, all dressed in the same light, brightly colored fabric: a smith at work in an open air forge; a gardener tending to her herbs; a pair of men engaged in swordplay, clearly at practice. The sky is a pure blue; beneath it, lines of mountaintops stacked one behind another recede into the distance. The sight reminds you of Velland, while at the same time seeming unlikely anything you have ever heard tell of or seen before. </p><p></p><p>"Like it?" asks Tiesa, then dashes away. You follow for a few steps, then turn back to look at the tower from which you came. The ground floor is featureless, ancient blocks of stone carved smooth and laid in an even circle. Above, however, the windows you had seen from the inside appear in the round wall, their sills carved in elegant and subtle designs too detailed to make out from the ground. The tower rises for another three floors, and is topped with battlements of a strange curved design unlike the primitive towers of Velland or even the more refined castles of Rellenor. As you watch, a man parts the curtains of one window, and steps outside – then drifts gracefully to the ground beside you.</p><p></p><p>"Ah, I had brought you breakfast, but perhaps you will have it later." The man nods toward the tray in his hands, then rises back toward the window, a gentle breeze following behind. "I shall leave your meal within," he calls from above, and disappears once more behind the curtain.</p><p></p><p>You turn to Tiesa, who by now is halfway to another tower. "Can you do that?" you call. </p><p></p><p>Tiesa laughs. "Of course I can, silly!" She rises into the air and glides toward you until she is directly over you. "Kradiat didn’t tell you much, did he?" You shake your head and follow her into the village.</p><p></p><p>You spend the day exploring and discover several things of interest. The village has no farmland, cattle, crops, beyond several spice gardens and a few fruit trees. The villagers seem to be able to summon food by magic, although Tiesa insists that some spices are needed to improve the taste somewhat. In contrast to the lack of farmers, however, the number of artisans and tradesmen seems incredible. Nearly everyone one seems to have a trade: carving, carpentry, weaving, smithing (steel, silver, gold), jewelry and several you do not even recognize. You can see no roads leading from the village, and no sign of civilization in the lands beyond; the entire day, no one is seen to arrive or depart. You wonder how such a small village can find or afford the materials required for so many crafts: perhaps they are summoned by magic as well. Tiesa smiles, but declines to answer. "I can’t tell you anything – <em>they</em> won’t let me," she repeats more than once, nodding toward a nearby elder figure or tower.</p><p></p><p>Tiesa does, however, tell you a little about herself. Her people must be extremely long-lived; she is the youngest, she tells you, and that by no short measure. In fact, you see no children at all, and beyond Tiesa only one or two who might be younger than twenty (in human terms, anyway). She enjoys flight, and the mountain breezes, "which makes me of air, of course," but hasn’t yet settled on a craft. "I like clothes, but weaving is so dull; and I tried carving, but cut my hand and that was no good." She seems happy in the village, but also glad to have someone new to talk to. "You will stay a while, won’t you?" You are not sure what to say, since you do not know yourself what the future holds.</p><p></p><p>The next day, a bit of the future is revealed. Kradiat enters your chamber, soon after you have finished breakfast. "Your second task is upon you," he declared, then leads you down the ladder and outside, to the edge of the village. "I believe this task to be within your merits. It is not something that we could not do ourselves, but rather something which the Head of Soldiery considers an adequate measure of your mettle. You may decline, if you wish, but it will not look well in the eyes of the village." </p><p></p><p>"I will try," you say.</p><p></p><p>Kradiat nods. "Good. Down this slope lies a narrow valley – you will find a stream in your path which will lead the way. Follow this valley to a tower of dark stone – you will know the one, though there may be others." He pauses, and looks at you. "Inside the tower, a creature has taken up residence, a creature that will in time threaten our village. Deal with this creature, and your second task will be complete." He gestures toward the valley. "Go now, and you may return before night has fallen."</p><p></p><p>You journey down the slope and into the valley, the slopes of two mountains coming together to form a narrow shaded gap leading gradually down. You find the stream bubbling in its gravel path, and follow it almost until noon, when you spot the narrow peak of a stone tower poking above the lip of the slope ahead of you. You move forward slowly, watch the rest of the tower reveal itself. The tower is square, unlike those of the village, and decorated with strange carvings and figures from top to bottom. It appears ancient, and long abandoned, though still whole. You ponder the challenge that awaits you as you approach. Perhaps the creature can be reasoned with – and perhaps not. You decide that a rapid entrance would be most wise. Taking a deep breath, you run the final furlong to the tower. Summoning the strange powers within you, you strengthen your skin, providing a measure of armor, and dash up the wall and onto the parapet that lies halfway up the side.</p><p></p><p>You look around, seeing a dark doorway to either side, when a shadow falls on you from above. You have time to turn before a winged creature descends, landing on the battlement beside you. Its gray complexion matches that of the tower’s stone. A claw rakes across your shoulder, drawing blood. The touch is cool to your skin, and rough like rock. You step back toward a doorway, summoning bolts of force that strike the creature, knocking it off balance. It steps forward, swiping with its claws, biting, and goring with the large stone horns that protrude from its head. You are bloodied in several places, but none of the wounds is critical. Again you step back toward the doorway, hoping that other forces do not lie in wait beyond, and send your energies against the creature, which seems to withstand them somewhat better. You duck into the doorway as the creature strike again; its wings keep it from coming as close as it would like, and its claws sweep past you. From the protection of the door, you summon force bolts once again, feeling the power drain from you and strike the creature full on. Small bits of stone crumble from its brow and horns, and it shrieks at you before taking to the air. You spend a moment resting, as the creature rounds the tower and vanishes from sight. The doorway behind you is dark, so you summon light and peer within. A bare room greets your glance – then suddenly, a figure appears on the parapet outside. You whirl to see a villager, the man in chain mail who had stood behind Kradiat when he welcomed you into the village. </p><p></p><p>"Well fought," the man says, his voice deep and gravelly. He extends a hand. "Come, I will return you to the village. Your task is complete: the gargoyle has fled." He takes hold of you, then lifts into the air, flying slowly back toward the village. That night, as a elderly woman tends to your wounds, you reflect on the power that you have harnessed in the short time you have been away from Magehaven and your draconic mentor. </p><p></p><p>You rest over the next few days, healing your wounds – not confined to bed, but making sure you do not tax yourself unduly. The village seems to have a consistent routine: meals are eaten, the same groups congregating at the same times each day; the smith hammers, the gardener weeds, the weaver emerges to show his latest creation to the sun and clouds. Tiesa speaks with you daily, but only for a brief time. "They don’t want me spending all my time with you," she pouts, before rising to the top of the main tower. You cannot blame them; someday you will be leaving, and clearly they see that she might be tempted to leave with you.</p><p></p><p>Over a week later, you are sitting on the grass, watching the smith produce another of the strange, curved swords used by the villagers, when a sudden silence falls over the village. The smith looks up, toward a tower, then down the hillside. At the same time, the gardener stands and stares in the same direction. The swordsmen halt their practice, one taking a step toward the slope before halting. Then, at the same time, all of them simply disappear, swirling away into a sudden breeze.</p><p></p><p>"Tiesa? Kradiat?" you call, but no one responds. You hear a howling noise coming from the hillside, and move in that direction to investigate. What you see chills your soul.</p><p></p><p>A large force of humanoids – ogres, by the look of them – are marching up the hill, clubs in hand. Before them run wolves – no, worgs – howling as they approach. The closest ogre spots you and bellows. The wolves begin to close in. You prepare yourself, wondering where the villagers have gone. There will be little you can do by yourself, but you are ready to try.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, Tiesa is at your side. "I <em>knew</em> they would forget!" she sighed, exasperated. "Here, take my hands," she adds, turning you away from the oncoming horde. "They won’t want you in the fire, so here we go!" She closes her eyes, and a bitterly cold wind envelops you in a whirling embrace. The sky seems to descend, enveloping stone, grass and water in a haze of clear blue. You close your eyes, as the growling of ogres fades and is lost in the wail of the endless breeze. Suddenly you are falling; Tiesa’s grasp grows firmer, and she catches you. "Hey, you can open your eyes!"</p><p></p><p>You open them, looking up to see Tiesa smiling down at you. Then you look down. There is nothing below you – nothing but sky, endless sky punctuated by clouds and tiny specks, like birds over the sea. You look all around, and see nothing but hazy blue. The wind is bitterly cold, and swift as a winter storm. Tiesa’s hands jerk, as if she is pulling you away. "It’s alright, Thorald," she says with a smile. "Never been here before, have you?" Suddenly, you see a large piece of stone, floating in mid air over your shoulder. Pillars and stone carvings decorate one side, but as quickly as you look, the stone turns in place, presenting a bleak, rough face. "Don’t worry, you’ll be fine," Tiesa assures you, lowering you to a small ledge. She produces a small stick of spice from her pocket. "Here, break this, then eat it." You follow her instruction, and a warmth gradually fills your body, countering the bitter cold of the wind. "They’ll give it to me for that, but what else could I do?" she mutters.</p><p></p><p>You remain on the rock, drifting in emptiness, for more time than you can count. Tiesa seems distracted, perhaps even scared, and says nothing. Finally, she sighs and stands, taking your hands once more. "Ready? Alright, here we go!" The wind rises once again, and then you fall into darkness. The wind subsides. You are standing on grass once more, grass slick with something. Pulling away from Tiesa’s grasp, you summon light and look down to see the slashed corpse of an ogre, its blood seeping onto the mountain grass. Others lie nearby, scatter all about the village. Tiesa takes your hand again, and leads you silently into your chamber. "Ssssh," she insists, as she prepares to take her leave. "I couldn’t tell you anyway, so don’t ask." She drifts through a window and into the night.</p><p></p><p>You arise the next day and look out the window. The bodies of the attackers have been gathered into a large pile and set alight. The smoke from the burning rises high into the sky, and the flames flicker with vicious intensity. You descend and approach the fire, hoping that no villagers fell during what must have been a difficult combat.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, the flames bow and hiss, humbled by a tremendous wind which blows through the village from behind you. You turn, and are awed by the appearance of a giant man, easily ten feet tall, his legs and feet fading into the air, drifting above the ground. His dress reminds you of the villagers, but the delicate embroidery, glistening gems, and sheer grace of design surpass the villager’s clothing utterly. The man seems akin to them, but at the same time beyond them. The man regards you.</p><p></p><p>"Human, why have you come to this place," he speaks, his voice deep but resonant, like a woodwind instrument. You start to speak, but the man turns away from you. Kradiat has emerged from his tower, and floats mid-air, in a kneeling position. Around the village, the other villagers approach and do likewise. There is a long silence, during which the man turns to and fro, looking at different villagers, never at you.</p><p></p><p>At long last his gaze returns to you. "It seems you have profited from the hospitality of my subjects, whom I cannot fault in propriety or generosity." He raises a hand to forestall anything you might say. "You will speak when you are directed to – and I will only so direct you once, when I am ready. Your time in this place is at an end, though I hold you or they in no fault for what was done. In time, you may return here, though to do so in ignorance would be an unwise course to follow." He approaches you, descending toward the ground, his muscular figure towering over you. Moved by an unknown impulse, you kneel, mimicking the villagers around you. "Prepare to depart from this place, Thorald Stone of Magehaven." You glance up to see Tiesa waving at you, a regretful smile on her face.</p><p></p><p>"But…what of the third task…" you begin, before recalling the restriction against speech. </p><p></p><p>The man smiles, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. "I had freed you from it – but as you have broken your silence and spoken, it shall be reinstated…at a later time. Do not concern yourself about when that time will come. Now!" He claps his hands, and a whirlwind takes you in its grasp. In the blink of an eye, you are deposited on a windy mountaintop, the great figure of the man beside you. </p><p></p><p>"I know more than you may guess of whence you came, and shall respect the hospitality you were offered by returning you not to the place, but to the people with whom you last associated." He pauses. "In addition, I grant you my hospitality as well. If there is anything I could grant to assist you, speak now and name it, before we return to the lands which you know." The man pauses, awaiting your answer.</p><p></p><p>------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>(Thorald was returned to the group at this point, in the midst of their fight to protect Kanavin Loxham from the elvish League of Green and the Rellenorian Order of the Lily. He was given a strange box which, he was told, would answer three questions about Ardinor. To this day has not opened the box, waiting until he knows better questions to ask.)</p><p></p><p>Whew, I forgot how long that was! There's one more "history" post coming before the next real update...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Galfridus, post: 18223, member: 119"] [b]Thorald's Adventure, Part 2[/b] Tiesa returns the next day, bringing you water and more of the village’s strange food, which you consume eagerly. In response to your questions, she only smiles and shakes her head. "You will learn more when the time comes." She leaves through one of the windows (a different one than Kradiat used), and you perceive that the room is on a steep hill; from the view afforded you, you can see no ground directly outside any of the windows. You spend the day resting, stronger than the day before but still weak. The day after you are awakened by Kradiat. Several others stand in the chamber, dressed in blues, reds, and greens: an elderly man, a red-haired woman, and a young man with the glint of chain armor beneath his shirt. All seem unbothered by the cold, wet breeze blowing through the room. "Thorald Stone," Kradiat declares, "you are welcome in this village until you have rested and recovered, as I have previously said. However, it occurred to me that perhaps you wished to remain longer, as your future travels seem uncertain at best. In that light, the village will have you for a season, as long as you agree to perform three tasks that we shall name." He pauses. "You may consider this, if you like, but the name and nature of the tasks will not be revealed." You think for a few moments, under the gazes of the four villagers. "I do not need more time – I have no way to get where I need to go, and no way to know how to get there. I accept your offer." Kradiat nods, and the four bow. "Then it is agreed." The other three turn and depart through separate windows. Beyond, the dawn light glows on a steep mountain slope. Kradiat sits beside your bed once again. "Your tale, of Rellenor, and Magehaven – the Head of Artisans agreed to accept that as your first task." He smiles briefly. "And now I have a promise to keep. Today I shall tell you what I can of our village. Tomorrow, I think, you should be well enough to see it for yourself." "We dwell high in the mountains, alone. There are no others nearby, just wilderness and the terrors that wilderness conceals. You did well to stay here; I do not think you have the power to survive alone, even if were able to determine the direction you might take." "We were established here, and in many other places, as sites of meeting, of negotiation, and of peaceful retreat. In the days of your empire, we were numerous and our places plentiful. But those times passed, and in the region you know, we are the only remnant." He eyes you closely. "We are not human, as you may have guessed, but I think that matters little for your purposes, or ours." He shrugs. "We are human enough in most things. But more than that, the details of our purposes, of the history that we know, I cannot tell you. Some may be made clear, by those beyond myself in authority. We are not evil, by any measure that I am aware of, although you may find us strange or foreign." You begin with a question, but he raises his hand. "Enough for now – I have another matter to attend to." He rises and strides toward a window. "Tomorrow, you shall see for yourself." *** A strange creaking sound awakens you the following day. Something seems to be scratching at the floor. Then, suddenly, a metal hinge squeaks open, and a large wooden object crashes to the floor just beyond your bed. You sit up in surprise, as Tiesa rises into view. "Good morning!" she calls, then puts a hand to her mouth. "Oops, forgot something!" She ducks down, and you hear a clattering from what be a room beneath yours. "Just a moment!" her voice calls from below, echoing off stone walls. Then there is a series of creakings, and she appears again, climbing up from below. "Now, do you think you can stand today?" You nod, and slowly rise from the bed. Your feet feel a little shaky, but soon you feel confident that you are recovered from your ordeal. You make your way toward the nearest window, but Tiesa stops you. "Oh no—let’s go down first, and get a view from the outside, shall we?" She leads you to the foot of the bed, where an old-looking ladder peaks up from a wide trap door. "I’ll go down first, and you can follow," she calls, dropping through the trap door, her hands skimming the edges of the ladder. You hear her feet strike ground below, then she calls out, "Alright, come down!" You descend slowly, into a dim and dusty room. Light streams through a small doorway, revealing stone walls and a packed earth floor. Supplies are stacked in the room: cloth, wood, chests, strange curved swords, chain armor, etc. Tiesa stands by the door, gesturing. "Come on, outside!" You walk as quickly as you are able to the doorway and pass through, staring at what lies beyond. The village lies on a high meadow, nestled between several stern mountain peaks. Long fields of grass slope gently away from a series of ancient, graceful stone towers. Several people are visible, all dressed in the same light, brightly colored fabric: a smith at work in an open air forge; a gardener tending to her herbs; a pair of men engaged in swordplay, clearly at practice. The sky is a pure blue; beneath it, lines of mountaintops stacked one behind another recede into the distance. The sight reminds you of Velland, while at the same time seeming unlikely anything you have ever heard tell of or seen before. "Like it?" asks Tiesa, then dashes away. You follow for a few steps, then turn back to look at the tower from which you came. The ground floor is featureless, ancient blocks of stone carved smooth and laid in an even circle. Above, however, the windows you had seen from the inside appear in the round wall, their sills carved in elegant and subtle designs too detailed to make out from the ground. The tower rises for another three floors, and is topped with battlements of a strange curved design unlike the primitive towers of Velland or even the more refined castles of Rellenor. As you watch, a man parts the curtains of one window, and steps outside – then drifts gracefully to the ground beside you. "Ah, I had brought you breakfast, but perhaps you will have it later." The man nods toward the tray in his hands, then rises back toward the window, a gentle breeze following behind. "I shall leave your meal within," he calls from above, and disappears once more behind the curtain. You turn to Tiesa, who by now is halfway to another tower. "Can you do that?" you call. Tiesa laughs. "Of course I can, silly!" She rises into the air and glides toward you until she is directly over you. "Kradiat didn’t tell you much, did he?" You shake your head and follow her into the village. You spend the day exploring and discover several things of interest. The village has no farmland, cattle, crops, beyond several spice gardens and a few fruit trees. The villagers seem to be able to summon food by magic, although Tiesa insists that some spices are needed to improve the taste somewhat. In contrast to the lack of farmers, however, the number of artisans and tradesmen seems incredible. Nearly everyone one seems to have a trade: carving, carpentry, weaving, smithing (steel, silver, gold), jewelry and several you do not even recognize. You can see no roads leading from the village, and no sign of civilization in the lands beyond; the entire day, no one is seen to arrive or depart. You wonder how such a small village can find or afford the materials required for so many crafts: perhaps they are summoned by magic as well. Tiesa smiles, but declines to answer. "I can’t tell you anything – [i]they[/i] won’t let me," she repeats more than once, nodding toward a nearby elder figure or tower. Tiesa does, however, tell you a little about herself. Her people must be extremely long-lived; she is the youngest, she tells you, and that by no short measure. In fact, you see no children at all, and beyond Tiesa only one or two who might be younger than twenty (in human terms, anyway). She enjoys flight, and the mountain breezes, "which makes me of air, of course," but hasn’t yet settled on a craft. "I like clothes, but weaving is so dull; and I tried carving, but cut my hand and that was no good." She seems happy in the village, but also glad to have someone new to talk to. "You will stay a while, won’t you?" You are not sure what to say, since you do not know yourself what the future holds. The next day, a bit of the future is revealed. Kradiat enters your chamber, soon after you have finished breakfast. "Your second task is upon you," he declared, then leads you down the ladder and outside, to the edge of the village. "I believe this task to be within your merits. It is not something that we could not do ourselves, but rather something which the Head of Soldiery considers an adequate measure of your mettle. You may decline, if you wish, but it will not look well in the eyes of the village." "I will try," you say. Kradiat nods. "Good. Down this slope lies a narrow valley – you will find a stream in your path which will lead the way. Follow this valley to a tower of dark stone – you will know the one, though there may be others." He pauses, and looks at you. "Inside the tower, a creature has taken up residence, a creature that will in time threaten our village. Deal with this creature, and your second task will be complete." He gestures toward the valley. "Go now, and you may return before night has fallen." You journey down the slope and into the valley, the slopes of two mountains coming together to form a narrow shaded gap leading gradually down. You find the stream bubbling in its gravel path, and follow it almost until noon, when you spot the narrow peak of a stone tower poking above the lip of the slope ahead of you. You move forward slowly, watch the rest of the tower reveal itself. The tower is square, unlike those of the village, and decorated with strange carvings and figures from top to bottom. It appears ancient, and long abandoned, though still whole. You ponder the challenge that awaits you as you approach. Perhaps the creature can be reasoned with – and perhaps not. You decide that a rapid entrance would be most wise. Taking a deep breath, you run the final furlong to the tower. Summoning the strange powers within you, you strengthen your skin, providing a measure of armor, and dash up the wall and onto the parapet that lies halfway up the side. You look around, seeing a dark doorway to either side, when a shadow falls on you from above. You have time to turn before a winged creature descends, landing on the battlement beside you. Its gray complexion matches that of the tower’s stone. A claw rakes across your shoulder, drawing blood. The touch is cool to your skin, and rough like rock. You step back toward a doorway, summoning bolts of force that strike the creature, knocking it off balance. It steps forward, swiping with its claws, biting, and goring with the large stone horns that protrude from its head. You are bloodied in several places, but none of the wounds is critical. Again you step back toward the doorway, hoping that other forces do not lie in wait beyond, and send your energies against the creature, which seems to withstand them somewhat better. You duck into the doorway as the creature strike again; its wings keep it from coming as close as it would like, and its claws sweep past you. From the protection of the door, you summon force bolts once again, feeling the power drain from you and strike the creature full on. Small bits of stone crumble from its brow and horns, and it shrieks at you before taking to the air. You spend a moment resting, as the creature rounds the tower and vanishes from sight. The doorway behind you is dark, so you summon light and peer within. A bare room greets your glance – then suddenly, a figure appears on the parapet outside. You whirl to see a villager, the man in chain mail who had stood behind Kradiat when he welcomed you into the village. "Well fought," the man says, his voice deep and gravelly. He extends a hand. "Come, I will return you to the village. Your task is complete: the gargoyle has fled." He takes hold of you, then lifts into the air, flying slowly back toward the village. That night, as a elderly woman tends to your wounds, you reflect on the power that you have harnessed in the short time you have been away from Magehaven and your draconic mentor. You rest over the next few days, healing your wounds – not confined to bed, but making sure you do not tax yourself unduly. The village seems to have a consistent routine: meals are eaten, the same groups congregating at the same times each day; the smith hammers, the gardener weeds, the weaver emerges to show his latest creation to the sun and clouds. Tiesa speaks with you daily, but only for a brief time. "They don’t want me spending all my time with you," she pouts, before rising to the top of the main tower. You cannot blame them; someday you will be leaving, and clearly they see that she might be tempted to leave with you. Over a week later, you are sitting on the grass, watching the smith produce another of the strange, curved swords used by the villagers, when a sudden silence falls over the village. The smith looks up, toward a tower, then down the hillside. At the same time, the gardener stands and stares in the same direction. The swordsmen halt their practice, one taking a step toward the slope before halting. Then, at the same time, all of them simply disappear, swirling away into a sudden breeze. "Tiesa? Kradiat?" you call, but no one responds. You hear a howling noise coming from the hillside, and move in that direction to investigate. What you see chills your soul. A large force of humanoids – ogres, by the look of them – are marching up the hill, clubs in hand. Before them run wolves – no, worgs – howling as they approach. The closest ogre spots you and bellows. The wolves begin to close in. You prepare yourself, wondering where the villagers have gone. There will be little you can do by yourself, but you are ready to try. Suddenly, Tiesa is at your side. "I [i]knew[/i] they would forget!" she sighed, exasperated. "Here, take my hands," she adds, turning you away from the oncoming horde. "They won’t want you in the fire, so here we go!" She closes her eyes, and a bitterly cold wind envelops you in a whirling embrace. The sky seems to descend, enveloping stone, grass and water in a haze of clear blue. You close your eyes, as the growling of ogres fades and is lost in the wail of the endless breeze. Suddenly you are falling; Tiesa’s grasp grows firmer, and she catches you. "Hey, you can open your eyes!" You open them, looking up to see Tiesa smiling down at you. Then you look down. There is nothing below you – nothing but sky, endless sky punctuated by clouds and tiny specks, like birds over the sea. You look all around, and see nothing but hazy blue. The wind is bitterly cold, and swift as a winter storm. Tiesa’s hands jerk, as if she is pulling you away. "It’s alright, Thorald," she says with a smile. "Never been here before, have you?" Suddenly, you see a large piece of stone, floating in mid air over your shoulder. Pillars and stone carvings decorate one side, but as quickly as you look, the stone turns in place, presenting a bleak, rough face. "Don’t worry, you’ll be fine," Tiesa assures you, lowering you to a small ledge. She produces a small stick of spice from her pocket. "Here, break this, then eat it." You follow her instruction, and a warmth gradually fills your body, countering the bitter cold of the wind. "They’ll give it to me for that, but what else could I do?" she mutters. You remain on the rock, drifting in emptiness, for more time than you can count. Tiesa seems distracted, perhaps even scared, and says nothing. Finally, she sighs and stands, taking your hands once more. "Ready? Alright, here we go!" The wind rises once again, and then you fall into darkness. The wind subsides. You are standing on grass once more, grass slick with something. Pulling away from Tiesa’s grasp, you summon light and look down to see the slashed corpse of an ogre, its blood seeping onto the mountain grass. Others lie nearby, scatter all about the village. Tiesa takes your hand again, and leads you silently into your chamber. "Ssssh," she insists, as she prepares to take her leave. "I couldn’t tell you anyway, so don’t ask." She drifts through a window and into the night. You arise the next day and look out the window. The bodies of the attackers have been gathered into a large pile and set alight. The smoke from the burning rises high into the sky, and the flames flicker with vicious intensity. You descend and approach the fire, hoping that no villagers fell during what must have been a difficult combat. Suddenly, the flames bow and hiss, humbled by a tremendous wind which blows through the village from behind you. You turn, and are awed by the appearance of a giant man, easily ten feet tall, his legs and feet fading into the air, drifting above the ground. His dress reminds you of the villagers, but the delicate embroidery, glistening gems, and sheer grace of design surpass the villager’s clothing utterly. The man seems akin to them, but at the same time beyond them. The man regards you. "Human, why have you come to this place," he speaks, his voice deep but resonant, like a woodwind instrument. You start to speak, but the man turns away from you. Kradiat has emerged from his tower, and floats mid-air, in a kneeling position. Around the village, the other villagers approach and do likewise. There is a long silence, during which the man turns to and fro, looking at different villagers, never at you. At long last his gaze returns to you. "It seems you have profited from the hospitality of my subjects, whom I cannot fault in propriety or generosity." He raises a hand to forestall anything you might say. "You will speak when you are directed to – and I will only so direct you once, when I am ready. Your time in this place is at an end, though I hold you or they in no fault for what was done. In time, you may return here, though to do so in ignorance would be an unwise course to follow." He approaches you, descending toward the ground, his muscular figure towering over you. Moved by an unknown impulse, you kneel, mimicking the villagers around you. "Prepare to depart from this place, Thorald Stone of Magehaven." You glance up to see Tiesa waving at you, a regretful smile on her face. "But…what of the third task…" you begin, before recalling the restriction against speech. The man smiles, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. "I had freed you from it – but as you have broken your silence and spoken, it shall be reinstated…at a later time. Do not concern yourself about when that time will come. Now!" He claps his hands, and a whirlwind takes you in its grasp. In the blink of an eye, you are deposited on a windy mountaintop, the great figure of the man beside you. "I know more than you may guess of whence you came, and shall respect the hospitality you were offered by returning you not to the place, but to the people with whom you last associated." He pauses. "In addition, I grant you my hospitality as well. If there is anything I could grant to assist you, speak now and name it, before we return to the lands which you know." The man pauses, awaiting your answer. ------------------------------------------ (Thorald was returned to the group at this point, in the midst of their fight to protect Kanavin Loxham from the elvish League of Green and the Rellenorian Order of the Lily. He was given a strange box which, he was told, would answer three questions about Ardinor. To this day has not opened the box, waiting until he knows better questions to ask.) Whew, I forgot how long that was! There's one more "history" post coming before the next real update... [/QUOTE]
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