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Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"
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<blockquote data-quote="steeldragons" data-source="post: 5363985" data-attributes="member: 92511"><p>HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!</p><p> </p><p> In appreciation of the holiday, we’re taking a slight diversion from the storyline for a little seasonal tale of Halloweeny goodness with Alaria, Braddok and the gang in…</p><p> </p><p> Orean Tales: On Darkveil Night.</p><p> </p><p> The company made their way with some haste along the road through the wooded hills in the eastern Freelands. Most of the leaves of the trees had changed to their autumnal hues, vibrant reds and yellows. The leaves of the silverleaf trees had given up their soft sage green for the deep violet that signaled the onset of the season. A crisp breeze blew through the hills, rustling the brittle fallen leaves on the forest path and those which still clung to their limbs. </p><p> </p><p> The sun was dipping quickly in the west and the gray-violet of twilight sky was quickly giving way to the blue-black of night. Arinane, the greater moon, was beginning to rise, her silver light replacing the golden orange glow of the setting sun. They were only a hill or two away from the small town of Dalenrock and none of the company wished to be far from a fire on this night.</p><p> </p><p> For you see, it was Darkveil Night. The night of the Orean year when the Veil between the worlds was at it’s thinnest. Tales of the spirits of the deceased, malicious fairy folk and dark magic were all said to abound on the night of Darkveil. It was a holiday of the goddess Desri, goddess of judgement and death, and her daughter Wyslia, goddess of winter and strife. The holiday involved, among other traditions, a feast of the harvest bounty offered to the goddesses and the souls of the departed in hopes of appeasing them for favors and an easy winter to come.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan was eager to arrive in the town for a warming meal, fire and the security of being within the town’s stockade secured, so he convinced himself, from the wandering spirits and evils of the wild woods on this sinister night. The halfling shivered, his eyes darting to the sides of the path at every rustle and creak.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria smirked to herself watching the hairfooted priest. The wizardess considered most of the stories of Darkveil to be amusing. In R’Hath the holiday is much celebrated with sweet treats for children and grand masquerade parties for the adults. Still, with her knowledge of the arcane and the kinds of evils she’d encountered in her recent travels, Alaria’s mind wandered. She pulled her cloak tighter about her as a chilly gust rushed through the wood. She shook the accompanying shiver of being watched from her mind.</p><p> </p><p> Erevan and Duor were having a debate, as usual. The dwarf scoffed at the foolishness of the human holiday and the very idea of “the Veil.” Erevan admitted that though he couldn’t speak to the nature of the goddesses of Men, the tales of the Veil, the land of Faerie and spirits of the dead were quite real.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok listened to the debate with amusement while he too kept a wary eye in the surrounding woods. There was no doubt in the seasoned warrior’s mind that Darkveil Night was no time to be out on the road. He relaxed to see the soft glow of the fires of Dalenrock coming from beyond the next hill. One of the Darkveil traditions involved the lighting of bonfires to scare the spirits and faeries away from the all night feasting.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine simply kept to himself, bringing up the rear in his usual stoic attentiveness. The young paladin’s spear was the first weapon to be leveled when a peasant came crashing through the woods onto the path not far ahead of the group. The man’s shirt was ripped and his face had a large bruise and a small trail of dried blood ran down the side of his face from a wound in his hairline.</p><p> </p><p> He rushed up to Braddok, panting and frantic, “Please! You must help me! We’ve been attacked! Please help me! I can’t get the children. Hurry, that way!”</p><p> </p><p> Braddok tried to calm the man, “What about the children? What attacked you?” </p><p> </p><p> “They came out of nowhere.” The man, obviously not hearing the swordsman. “Hurry! Straight over the hill. That way! It’s the Tillman farm. The children hid, the way they were taught. But I couldn’t get to them. Hurry! I’ll go to town and get the constable!” without waiting for an argument, the man took off down the road toward the orange glow of the town and passed out of view.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine, not needing to hear anything other than “Help me!” and “children”, was already dashing straight into the woods in the direction the man indicated, Erevan and Alaria on his heels.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan hesitated for a moment, looked longingly at the light from the town, and darted into the dark undergrowth. The halfling heard Braddok and the dwarf rushing noisily after him while the clanking of Coerraine’s armor was an easy beacon to follow in the deepening dark of the fading twilight. </p><p> </p><p> Whatever it was they were going to face, Haelan thought, they sure as heck were going to hear them coming. </p><p> </p><p> Haelan stopped short, coming to the clearing, where Coerraine, Erevan and Alaria stood. Braddok and Duor came up behind him and the six looked out over a small farmstead.</p><p> </p><p> To the right a field of corn, dried and browned stalks stood in mini-pyramids, a scarecrow sat atop a tall stake, its yellow broad-brimmed hat sitting upon a straw-stuffed body. The cottage of a farm house beckoned behind the fence…a leafless tree sat in the front yard, behind the gate. Nothing looked amiss with the house, a soft yellow glow came from behind the shudders of the first floor and the front door. A small porch was at the top of three steps that led to the door.</p><p> </p><p> The company made their way through the gate and wandered up to the porch, weapons and spells ready, eyes shifting in every direction…nothing looked amiss from what they could tell in the silver light of the greater moon.</p><p> </p><p> As Coerraine stepped on the front step, Haelan saw a raven or maybe a rook landed on a branch of the leafless tree. </p><p> </p><p> Then Braddok, in the rear, noticed a slab of wood hanging from one of the more sturdy limbs by two ropes. As he watched, the swing began to creak back and forth…a trick of the wind, no doubt.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan looked at it too. He shivered inwardly. Then his eyes went to the five rooks that perched within the tree. No, thought the halfling, six. No, seven.</p><p></p><p></p><p>As Coerraine neared the front door, Erevan noticed the number of ravens in the leafless tree now counted in the…well, he couldn’t count them. Every limb was full of the beady-eyed black birds.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine, not noticing the birds, kicked in the front door, his spear and shield at the ready. At that moment, the rooks in the tree took to the air in a cacophony of caws and flapping wings.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan jumped and turned. The mass of black birds flew like a black cloud into the sky. They stretched and congealed, as one. Flying away from the house and then dipping and soaring above the harvested corn field. The mass turned and started coming towards the cottage.</p><p> </p><p> “GET INSIDE!” shouted Braddok.</p><p> </p><p> The band ran up the steps and into the cottage. Braddok slammed the front door. Turning at the last moment to view out a window, Duor saw the black mass of feathers swoop towards the porch and then streak skyward up over the small farmhouse. The flapping and cawing trailed off into the distance.</p><p> </p><p> The group stood motionless…silent…waiting for any sound. All they heard was a momentary flapping and cawing before there was no sound at all.</p><p> </p><p> The party looked about a small room. A fire burned in the hearth. A small pot hung above the fire, bubbling.</p><p> </p><p> In the room was a table set for a meal with simple crockery, two benches along either side, a chair at the table’s head. A step-ladder led into the eaves and another door went, obviously, out the back of the building.</p><p> </p><p> A brief search found the secret door before the hearth. As Erevan opened the trapdoor, two figures leapt up at him. They were small and dressed in simple off-white sleeping gowns. One latched onto his neck and the other onto his leg. Both bit ferociously. </p><p> </p><p> The elf cried out in pain.</p><p> </p><p> The Redstar knight, believing these the children they sought grabbed one with long blond hair and pulled it off of the bleeding elf. </p><p> </p><p> “It’s ok! We’re here to help!” Coerraine shouted as he wrenched the child from Erevan’s neck. Only when the small figure turned towards him did he notice the child’s eyes were fully black and its mouth seemed a maw of pointed teeth. It lunched at the young paladin.</p><p> </p><p> “Manat’s star!” exclaimed Alaria raising her staff to block the lunge of the boy child who’d released Erevan’s thigh to fly toward the young wizardess.</p><p> </p><p> A short crossbow bolt soon stuck from the child’s shoulder as Duor tumbled through the room making his way to the back door.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok bashed the youth, who looked to be all of 11 years old, with his shield throwing him back into the fire. In a flash of flames and embers, he disappeared.</p><p></p><p> </p><p> Haelan, holding his pinecone-headed mace up in front of his wooden shield prayed feverishly to Faerantha to deliver him from this nightmare. The words came to his mouth, unbidden,</p><p></p><p></p><p>“<em>Deisa Faerantha, deferitas a spiritaia y diabollo</em>.” <cleric spell: Protection from Evil: “Holy Faerantha, defend your devoted followers from this evil.”></p><p> </p><p> Suddenly, the room went dark. The commotion of battle ceased. Then the silver moonlight of Arinane filtered in through the dusty windows and all was quiet. </p><p> </p><p> The party stood, battle ready, in the stillness. The children were gone. In the hearth, a pile of ash and long blackened logs sat cold and unused. Erevan, Braddok and Alaria turned to look at Haelan. The halfling shrugged. </p><p> </p><p> The voice of the dwarf broke the unnatural stillness.</p><p> </p><p> “Ummmm. I think you lot want to see this.” said Duor staring out the wide open back door. </p><p> </p><p> The companions came the back door and looked over the dwarf. Leading down from the stairs of the house a field stretched out under the silver moonlight for a hundred feet in every direction. The field was full of twisting vines of large leaves and pumpkins.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan, reeling from the oddity of the house looked out the front window. He saw the leafless tree with the simple swing wavering in some unfelt breeze, the neatly piled corn stalks…and …and a large stake sitting in the midst of the cornfield. He didn’t remember that.</p><p> </p><p> “Help! Help us!” came the cry of children’s voices that caught all of the company’s attention. It sounded like it was far off. Those looking out the back of the house noticed two silhouettes in the midst of the pumpkin patch, outlined in the moonlight. They were gesturing wildly.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok turned to Alaria and said, “What’s going on here? Can you detect anything?”</p><p> </p><p> Alaria looked at the warrior with concentrated understanding. The R’Hathi wizardess uttered a simple verse, shrieked, clasped a hand over her eyes and fell backwards. Erevan caught her limp body. </p><p> </p><p> Moments later, the young magess explained through haggard breath that the entirety of the pumpkin patch was magical. She had never seen such a blatant overpowering aura.</p><p> </p><p> Again, the cries of the children came wafting over the vine laden field.</p><p> </p><p> Sharing a determined look, Coaerraine and Braddok began to move down the steps into the field of pumpkins.</p><p> </p><p> Duor took a position near the back door, Erevan on the other side of the door, his longbow nocked and ready. Alaria, recovered, stood next to the elf as the halfling priest moved to stand on the back steps, ahead of the dwarf, elf, and magess, with an eye on the two fighters.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine and Braddok had not moved more than thirty feet from the cottage when both were assaulted by vines in the pumpkin patch. The men swung weapons in hopes of releasing themselves but both found themselves prone, their legs and arms and torsos being wrapped with thick green vines.</p><p> </p><p> Duor and Erevan both let off their bolts. The arrows sank into the foliage that was quickly mummifying their friends. Yellow ichor dripped from the puncture wounds.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok hacked with his sword and regained his footing. He quickly began to hack madly at the vines entrapping Coerraine.</p><p></p><p></p><p> Then the sound came again…the fluttering of dozens…no hundreds…of wings and a concert of caws that made Erevan and Haelan clutch their ears.</p><p> </p><p> The black-feathered cloud descended over them and spread out over the pumpkin field…dissipating as the company watched only to reintegrate into a cloud of black high in the moonlit sky.</p><p> </p><p> Another few swings from Braddok and the young Redstar Knight was freed. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The silhouettes of the children still cried out from the center of the field. Braddok looked back at the farm house which he’d taken not ten steps from. It seemed as far away as the shadowed children. This was most assuredly witchery of the Darkveil Night, Braddok thought to himself.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria, having come to the same assumption, closed her eyes and concentrated.</p><p> </p><p> Erevan and Duor continued to fire missiles into the green tendrils now rising and lashing for the fighters.</p><p> </p><p> “Help us! It’s got us!” came the childish voices across the living pumpkin patch.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine slipped his Redstar spear into its holder on his back and drew his longsword. With a nod to Braddok, the two warriors began slashing their way through the disagreeable pumpkin patch. Green vines and yellow ichor flew in all directions as the two muscled warriors, one taller, dark and trim and one shorter, blond and wide, hacked their way toward the pleading children.</p><p> </p><p> Three globes of shimmering white light appeared around Alaria’s head. <spell: Dancing Lights> With a thought, she sent the globes shooting out over the pumpkin patch. The orbs streaked past Braddok and Coerraine to where the children’s shadows stood and circled them.</p><p> </p><p> When they arrived at the children’s position and lit up the area, the shapes and cries of the children faded…from ear and from view. Braddok turned to look to Coerraine, panic plain on his face. The paladin didn’t even notice, still staring in disbelief at the three globes of light where the children had been, he was sure, moments ago.</p><p> </p><p> A wind blew across the wide field, rustling up dead leaves and vines and the stench of decay. Haelan shivered, despite himself. </p><p> </p><p> Coerraine woke from his musing to see a form rising from the vines and pumpkins before them. It had long thin limbs and seemed to be dressed in the tattered trappings of a farmer. Upon the impossibly thin shoulders sat a large round, brilliantly orange pumpkin with triangular holes where eyes and a nose should be and a jagged, uneven smile stretching across the entire front of its face. The holes glowed with a sickly green and unnatural light. Upon the top of the pumpkin-head sat a yellow floppy brimmed hat.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok felt a wave of fear overtake him and turn swiftly back toward the house, slashing at the vines that rose and whipped at him.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine, convinced this was the evil that was holding the children, charged the eight foot tall abomination. The cries of Haelan from the back steps echoed unintelligibly in his mind.</p><p> </p><p> As the paladin neared the pumpkin-headed creature, a long bark-laden “arm” reached up from the patch with three long clawed finger-branches and swatted the Redstar Knight, ripping through his armor and tossing him aside like a ragdoll. The mouth on the creature, which heretofore had not moved from its toothy grin opened wide and roared a horrid noise of ferocity and malice, green-yellow flames spewing forth from the orifice.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>Everx zaar</em>” Erevan cried. <spell: Magic Missile></p><p> </p><p> Violet and blue shards of energy struck the creature soundly in the gourd of its head. Alaria turned, shocked, to see the elf with his hand, fingers outstretched.</p><p> </p><p> “You have a dozen more of those?” Duor questioned, also looking surprised.</p><p> </p><p> A branch-arm stretched toward the back porch of the farmhouse and a dozen vines rose towards the party. They snapped forward like cobras. Haelan, Alaria and Duor avoided the bulk of them, but Erevan was knocked to the floor, blood streaking from slashing wounds in his face and side. Another vine wrapped around his leg and jerked the elf up and out over the pumpkin field.</p><p> </p><p> In his frenzy to return to the perceived security of the porch, Braddok <em>did</em> notice Erevan being pulled into the air. A quick hack with his longsword dropped the elf to the ground. He gathered up his friend and the two headed, with all haste back to the house.</p><p> </p><p> Coaerraine, Goldshield of the Redstar Knights and Guardian of the temple of Celradorn the Golden Defender, blocked a raking slash of barked claws with his shield and called upon his deity to<em> smite </em>the <em>evil </em>that he faced. His spear pierced the scraggly straw-stuffed body and a golden light seemed to shine from his weapon.</p><p> </p><p> The creature shrieked again, this time in pain as much as malice, green-yellow flames bursting from its wound.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine turned, his face burned from the cold of the unnatural fire.</p><p> </p><p> “Coerraine!” shouted Alaria, “Get back here!”</p><p> </p><p> The paladin turned briefly to see the rest of the party back at the small back porch of the cottage. He turned once more to see the pumpkin-headed abomination before him which seemed twice as tall at before. He went to run and felt his legs jerked by thick vines. Suddenly, his head was full of the sound of ravens’ caws. </p><p> </p><p> “<em>Yaix ar Yomarus, benfica Faerantha urmu</em>” <cleric spell: Light, “Light in darkness, by your blessing, Faerantha.”</p><p> </p><p> A brilliant white light flared above the retreating paladin. There was a momentary rise in the ravens’ noise, a shrieking roar of defiance rose from the pumpkin-headed creature and then nothing. Coerraine slashed at the vines around his legs and without looking back, made his way back to the rest of his party. </p><p> </p><p> Another roar brought Coerraine’s attention back to the scarecrow-creature in the pumpkin field. He turned, shield raised, spear at the ready. An arrow flew past his ear to sink into the creature’s stuffed torso. Behind him, he heard Alaria’s voice rising in confidence and power.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>Everx imberil rex!</em>” <mage spell: Burning Hands></p><p> </p><p> Waves of red and blue flames shot over Coerraine’s head and arced down into the pumpkin patch at the creature’s feet.</p><p> </p><p> Flames flared up and spread through the vines and dried leaves like…well, like wild fire and the creature was soon engulfed, shrieking, in flame. The fire spread with a seemingly unnatural speed and soon the entire field of pumpkins was roasting.</p><p> </p><p> The party moved back through the cottage and out into the front yard as the house caught fire. A single raven perched in the leafless tree with the swing.</p><p> </p><p> “What about the children?” shouted Coerraine in protest as the group moved swiftly out the front gate.</p><p> </p><p> “There were no children.” Braddok said plainly.</p><p> </p><p> Any further explanation was interrupted by a final shriek of agony from the creature, far behind in the inferno.</p><p> </p><p> Hours later, when the party entered Dalenrock, they found the constable and relayed their unwanted adventure. They believed the threat had been neutralized but were pained to tell they knew not what had happened to the Tillman children.</p><p> </p><p> The constable stared at them a moment. The color seemed to drain from his face. He stumbled and sputtered in his response.</p><p> </p><p> “You…You don’t unnerstand. Th…there ain’t no…no T…T…Tillman children. Ain’t…ain’t no Tillman farm. Burned to the ground, it did…round ten years ago…foul things they was inta. Unspeakable things. The townsfolk wouldn’t help ‘em if they wers the last family in the Freelands.”</p><p> </p><p> The members of the party looked at each other in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p> “Y..Yer in time for the f…feastin’ tho.” continued the constable. He smiled a toothy smile. As the party looked on, those teeth became sharp and jagged. The canines extended. The man’s hands seemed to snap and stretch, a darkness spreading across his skin and thick black claws extending from his fingers.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan jumped as a howl sounded some distance away. Then several others, much louder, much closer. Turning, he saw the extending snouts and dark gray fur sprouting from all of the town’s festival-goers around the nearest bonfire.</p><p> </p><p> “Aw <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" />.” said the halfling.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="steeldragons, post: 5363985, member: 92511"] HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! In appreciation of the holiday, we’re taking a slight diversion from the storyline for a little seasonal tale of Halloweeny goodness with Alaria, Braddok and the gang in… Orean Tales: On Darkveil Night. The company made their way with some haste along the road through the wooded hills in the eastern Freelands. Most of the leaves of the trees had changed to their autumnal hues, vibrant reds and yellows. The leaves of the silverleaf trees had given up their soft sage green for the deep violet that signaled the onset of the season. A crisp breeze blew through the hills, rustling the brittle fallen leaves on the forest path and those which still clung to their limbs. The sun was dipping quickly in the west and the gray-violet of twilight sky was quickly giving way to the blue-black of night. Arinane, the greater moon, was beginning to rise, her silver light replacing the golden orange glow of the setting sun. They were only a hill or two away from the small town of Dalenrock and none of the company wished to be far from a fire on this night. For you see, it was Darkveil Night. The night of the Orean year when the Veil between the worlds was at it’s thinnest. Tales of the spirits of the deceased, malicious fairy folk and dark magic were all said to abound on the night of Darkveil. It was a holiday of the goddess Desri, goddess of judgement and death, and her daughter Wyslia, goddess of winter and strife. The holiday involved, among other traditions, a feast of the harvest bounty offered to the goddesses and the souls of the departed in hopes of appeasing them for favors and an easy winter to come. Haelan was eager to arrive in the town for a warming meal, fire and the security of being within the town’s stockade secured, so he convinced himself, from the wandering spirits and evils of the wild woods on this sinister night. The halfling shivered, his eyes darting to the sides of the path at every rustle and creak. Alaria smirked to herself watching the hairfooted priest. The wizardess considered most of the stories of Darkveil to be amusing. In R’Hath the holiday is much celebrated with sweet treats for children and grand masquerade parties for the adults. Still, with her knowledge of the arcane and the kinds of evils she’d encountered in her recent travels, Alaria’s mind wandered. She pulled her cloak tighter about her as a chilly gust rushed through the wood. She shook the accompanying shiver of being watched from her mind. Erevan and Duor were having a debate, as usual. The dwarf scoffed at the foolishness of the human holiday and the very idea of “the Veil.” Erevan admitted that though he couldn’t speak to the nature of the goddesses of Men, the tales of the Veil, the land of Faerie and spirits of the dead were quite real. Braddok listened to the debate with amusement while he too kept a wary eye in the surrounding woods. There was no doubt in the seasoned warrior’s mind that Darkveil Night was no time to be out on the road. He relaxed to see the soft glow of the fires of Dalenrock coming from beyond the next hill. One of the Darkveil traditions involved the lighting of bonfires to scare the spirits and faeries away from the all night feasting. Coerraine simply kept to himself, bringing up the rear in his usual stoic attentiveness. The young paladin’s spear was the first weapon to be leveled when a peasant came crashing through the woods onto the path not far ahead of the group. The man’s shirt was ripped and his face had a large bruise and a small trail of dried blood ran down the side of his face from a wound in his hairline. He rushed up to Braddok, panting and frantic, “Please! You must help me! We’ve been attacked! Please help me! I can’t get the children. Hurry, that way!” Braddok tried to calm the man, “What about the children? What attacked you?” “They came out of nowhere.” The man, obviously not hearing the swordsman. “Hurry! Straight over the hill. That way! It’s the Tillman farm. The children hid, the way they were taught. But I couldn’t get to them. Hurry! I’ll go to town and get the constable!” without waiting for an argument, the man took off down the road toward the orange glow of the town and passed out of view. Coerraine, not needing to hear anything other than “Help me!” and “children”, was already dashing straight into the woods in the direction the man indicated, Erevan and Alaria on his heels. Haelan hesitated for a moment, looked longingly at the light from the town, and darted into the dark undergrowth. The halfling heard Braddok and the dwarf rushing noisily after him while the clanking of Coerraine’s armor was an easy beacon to follow in the deepening dark of the fading twilight. Whatever it was they were going to face, Haelan thought, they sure as heck were going to hear them coming. Haelan stopped short, coming to the clearing, where Coerraine, Erevan and Alaria stood. Braddok and Duor came up behind him and the six looked out over a small farmstead. To the right a field of corn, dried and browned stalks stood in mini-pyramids, a scarecrow sat atop a tall stake, its yellow broad-brimmed hat sitting upon a straw-stuffed body. The cottage of a farm house beckoned behind the fence…a leafless tree sat in the front yard, behind the gate. Nothing looked amiss with the house, a soft yellow glow came from behind the shudders of the first floor and the front door. A small porch was at the top of three steps that led to the door. The company made their way through the gate and wandered up to the porch, weapons and spells ready, eyes shifting in every direction…nothing looked amiss from what they could tell in the silver light of the greater moon. As Coerraine stepped on the front step, Haelan saw a raven or maybe a rook landed on a branch of the leafless tree. Then Braddok, in the rear, noticed a slab of wood hanging from one of the more sturdy limbs by two ropes. As he watched, the swing began to creak back and forth…a trick of the wind, no doubt. Haelan looked at it too. He shivered inwardly. Then his eyes went to the five rooks that perched within the tree. No, thought the halfling, six. No, seven. As Coerraine neared the front door, Erevan noticed the number of ravens in the leafless tree now counted in the…well, he couldn’t count them. Every limb was full of the beady-eyed black birds. Coerraine, not noticing the birds, kicked in the front door, his spear and shield at the ready. At that moment, the rooks in the tree took to the air in a cacophony of caws and flapping wings. Haelan jumped and turned. The mass of black birds flew like a black cloud into the sky. They stretched and congealed, as one. Flying away from the house and then dipping and soaring above the harvested corn field. The mass turned and started coming towards the cottage. “GET INSIDE!” shouted Braddok. The band ran up the steps and into the cottage. Braddok slammed the front door. Turning at the last moment to view out a window, Duor saw the black mass of feathers swoop towards the porch and then streak skyward up over the small farmhouse. The flapping and cawing trailed off into the distance. The group stood motionless…silent…waiting for any sound. All they heard was a momentary flapping and cawing before there was no sound at all. The party looked about a small room. A fire burned in the hearth. A small pot hung above the fire, bubbling. In the room was a table set for a meal with simple crockery, two benches along either side, a chair at the table’s head. A step-ladder led into the eaves and another door went, obviously, out the back of the building. A brief search found the secret door before the hearth. As Erevan opened the trapdoor, two figures leapt up at him. They were small and dressed in simple off-white sleeping gowns. One latched onto his neck and the other onto his leg. Both bit ferociously. The elf cried out in pain. The Redstar knight, believing these the children they sought grabbed one with long blond hair and pulled it off of the bleeding elf. “It’s ok! We’re here to help!” Coerraine shouted as he wrenched the child from Erevan’s neck. Only when the small figure turned towards him did he notice the child’s eyes were fully black and its mouth seemed a maw of pointed teeth. It lunched at the young paladin. “Manat’s star!” exclaimed Alaria raising her staff to block the lunge of the boy child who’d released Erevan’s thigh to fly toward the young wizardess. A short crossbow bolt soon stuck from the child’s shoulder as Duor tumbled through the room making his way to the back door. Braddok bashed the youth, who looked to be all of 11 years old, with his shield throwing him back into the fire. In a flash of flames and embers, he disappeared. Haelan, holding his pinecone-headed mace up in front of his wooden shield prayed feverishly to Faerantha to deliver him from this nightmare. The words came to his mouth, unbidden, “[I]Deisa Faerantha, deferitas a spiritaia y diabollo[/I].” <cleric spell: Protection from Evil: “Holy Faerantha, defend your devoted followers from this evil.”> Suddenly, the room went dark. The commotion of battle ceased. Then the silver moonlight of Arinane filtered in through the dusty windows and all was quiet. The party stood, battle ready, in the stillness. The children were gone. In the hearth, a pile of ash and long blackened logs sat cold and unused. Erevan, Braddok and Alaria turned to look at Haelan. The halfling shrugged. The voice of the dwarf broke the unnatural stillness. “Ummmm. I think you lot want to see this.” said Duor staring out the wide open back door. The companions came the back door and looked over the dwarf. Leading down from the stairs of the house a field stretched out under the silver moonlight for a hundred feet in every direction. The field was full of twisting vines of large leaves and pumpkins. Haelan, reeling from the oddity of the house looked out the front window. He saw the leafless tree with the simple swing wavering in some unfelt breeze, the neatly piled corn stalks…and …and a large stake sitting in the midst of the cornfield. He didn’t remember that. “Help! Help us!” came the cry of children’s voices that caught all of the company’s attention. It sounded like it was far off. Those looking out the back of the house noticed two silhouettes in the midst of the pumpkin patch, outlined in the moonlight. They were gesturing wildly. Braddok turned to Alaria and said, “What’s going on here? Can you detect anything?” Alaria looked at the warrior with concentrated understanding. The R’Hathi wizardess uttered a simple verse, shrieked, clasped a hand over her eyes and fell backwards. Erevan caught her limp body. Moments later, the young magess explained through haggard breath that the entirety of the pumpkin patch was magical. She had never seen such a blatant overpowering aura. Again, the cries of the children came wafting over the vine laden field. Sharing a determined look, Coaerraine and Braddok began to move down the steps into the field of pumpkins. Duor took a position near the back door, Erevan on the other side of the door, his longbow nocked and ready. Alaria, recovered, stood next to the elf as the halfling priest moved to stand on the back steps, ahead of the dwarf, elf, and magess, with an eye on the two fighters. Coerraine and Braddok had not moved more than thirty feet from the cottage when both were assaulted by vines in the pumpkin patch. The men swung weapons in hopes of releasing themselves but both found themselves prone, their legs and arms and torsos being wrapped with thick green vines. Duor and Erevan both let off their bolts. The arrows sank into the foliage that was quickly mummifying their friends. Yellow ichor dripped from the puncture wounds. Braddok hacked with his sword and regained his footing. He quickly began to hack madly at the vines entrapping Coerraine. Then the sound came again…the fluttering of dozens…no hundreds…of wings and a concert of caws that made Erevan and Haelan clutch their ears. The black-feathered cloud descended over them and spread out over the pumpkin field…dissipating as the company watched only to reintegrate into a cloud of black high in the moonlit sky. Another few swings from Braddok and the young Redstar Knight was freed. The silhouettes of the children still cried out from the center of the field. Braddok looked back at the farm house which he’d taken not ten steps from. It seemed as far away as the shadowed children. This was most assuredly witchery of the Darkveil Night, Braddok thought to himself. Alaria, having come to the same assumption, closed her eyes and concentrated. Erevan and Duor continued to fire missiles into the green tendrils now rising and lashing for the fighters. “Help us! It’s got us!” came the childish voices across the living pumpkin patch. Coerraine slipped his Redstar spear into its holder on his back and drew his longsword. With a nod to Braddok, the two warriors began slashing their way through the disagreeable pumpkin patch. Green vines and yellow ichor flew in all directions as the two muscled warriors, one taller, dark and trim and one shorter, blond and wide, hacked their way toward the pleading children. Three globes of shimmering white light appeared around Alaria’s head. <spell: Dancing Lights> With a thought, she sent the globes shooting out over the pumpkin patch. The orbs streaked past Braddok and Coerraine to where the children’s shadows stood and circled them. When they arrived at the children’s position and lit up the area, the shapes and cries of the children faded…from ear and from view. Braddok turned to look to Coerraine, panic plain on his face. The paladin didn’t even notice, still staring in disbelief at the three globes of light where the children had been, he was sure, moments ago. A wind blew across the wide field, rustling up dead leaves and vines and the stench of decay. Haelan shivered, despite himself. Coerraine woke from his musing to see a form rising from the vines and pumpkins before them. It had long thin limbs and seemed to be dressed in the tattered trappings of a farmer. Upon the impossibly thin shoulders sat a large round, brilliantly orange pumpkin with triangular holes where eyes and a nose should be and a jagged, uneven smile stretching across the entire front of its face. The holes glowed with a sickly green and unnatural light. Upon the top of the pumpkin-head sat a yellow floppy brimmed hat. Braddok felt a wave of fear overtake him and turn swiftly back toward the house, slashing at the vines that rose and whipped at him. Coerraine, convinced this was the evil that was holding the children, charged the eight foot tall abomination. The cries of Haelan from the back steps echoed unintelligibly in his mind. As the paladin neared the pumpkin-headed creature, a long bark-laden “arm” reached up from the patch with three long clawed finger-branches and swatted the Redstar Knight, ripping through his armor and tossing him aside like a ragdoll. The mouth on the creature, which heretofore had not moved from its toothy grin opened wide and roared a horrid noise of ferocity and malice, green-yellow flames spewing forth from the orifice. “[I]Everx zaar[/I]” Erevan cried. <spell: Magic Missile> Violet and blue shards of energy struck the creature soundly in the gourd of its head. Alaria turned, shocked, to see the elf with his hand, fingers outstretched. “You have a dozen more of those?” Duor questioned, also looking surprised. A branch-arm stretched toward the back porch of the farmhouse and a dozen vines rose towards the party. They snapped forward like cobras. Haelan, Alaria and Duor avoided the bulk of them, but Erevan was knocked to the floor, blood streaking from slashing wounds in his face and side. Another vine wrapped around his leg and jerked the elf up and out over the pumpkin field. In his frenzy to return to the perceived security of the porch, Braddok [I]did[/I] notice Erevan being pulled into the air. A quick hack with his longsword dropped the elf to the ground. He gathered up his friend and the two headed, with all haste back to the house. Coaerraine, Goldshield of the Redstar Knights and Guardian of the temple of Celradorn the Golden Defender, blocked a raking slash of barked claws with his shield and called upon his deity to[I] smite [/I]the [I]evil [/I]that he faced. His spear pierced the scraggly straw-stuffed body and a golden light seemed to shine from his weapon. The creature shrieked again, this time in pain as much as malice, green-yellow flames bursting from its wound. Coerraine turned, his face burned from the cold of the unnatural fire. “Coerraine!” shouted Alaria, “Get back here!” The paladin turned briefly to see the rest of the party back at the small back porch of the cottage. He turned once more to see the pumpkin-headed abomination before him which seemed twice as tall at before. He went to run and felt his legs jerked by thick vines. Suddenly, his head was full of the sound of ravens’ caws. “[I]Yaix ar Yomarus, benfica Faerantha urmu[/I]” <cleric spell: Light, “Light in darkness, by your blessing, Faerantha.” A brilliant white light flared above the retreating paladin. There was a momentary rise in the ravens’ noise, a shrieking roar of defiance rose from the pumpkin-headed creature and then nothing. Coerraine slashed at the vines around his legs and without looking back, made his way back to the rest of his party. Another roar brought Coerraine’s attention back to the scarecrow-creature in the pumpkin field. He turned, shield raised, spear at the ready. An arrow flew past his ear to sink into the creature’s stuffed torso. Behind him, he heard Alaria’s voice rising in confidence and power. “[I]Everx imberil rex![/I]” <mage spell: Burning Hands> Waves of red and blue flames shot over Coerraine’s head and arced down into the pumpkin patch at the creature’s feet. Flames flared up and spread through the vines and dried leaves like…well, like wild fire and the creature was soon engulfed, shrieking, in flame. The fire spread with a seemingly unnatural speed and soon the entire field of pumpkins was roasting. The party moved back through the cottage and out into the front yard as the house caught fire. A single raven perched in the leafless tree with the swing. “What about the children?” shouted Coerraine in protest as the group moved swiftly out the front gate. “There were no children.” Braddok said plainly. Any further explanation was interrupted by a final shriek of agony from the creature, far behind in the inferno. Hours later, when the party entered Dalenrock, they found the constable and relayed their unwanted adventure. They believed the threat had been neutralized but were pained to tell they knew not what had happened to the Tillman children. The constable stared at them a moment. The color seemed to drain from his face. He stumbled and sputtered in his response. “You…You don’t unnerstand. Th…there ain’t no…no T…T…Tillman children. Ain’t…ain’t no Tillman farm. Burned to the ground, it did…round ten years ago…foul things they was inta. Unspeakable things. The townsfolk wouldn’t help ‘em if they wers the last family in the Freelands.” The members of the party looked at each other in disbelief. “Y..Yer in time for the f…feastin’ tho.” continued the constable. He smiled a toothy smile. As the party looked on, those teeth became sharp and jagged. The canines extended. The man’s hands seemed to snap and stretch, a darkness spreading across his skin and thick black claws extending from his fingers. Haelan jumped as a howl sounded some distance away. Then several others, much louder, much closer. Turning, he saw the extending snouts and dark gray fur sprouting from all of the town’s festival-goers around the nearest bonfire. “Aw :):):):).” said the halfling. [/QUOTE]
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