Zad
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The Forge of Fury - Chapter 1
The Forge of Fury - Chapter 1
Second published module. We were being sent north because clearly Greyhawk was too dangerous for us for the time being, and because Lord Gelban wanted us to help his old friend. I can now speculate he had other reasons for us being in the area also.
OOC Notes:
Wizardru would like to move us along to the fortress quickly since there’s quite a bit of stuff there to do. He also has warned us that this won’t be as easy as the Citadel. Personally I think we did great with the ambush of the orcs and that’s the kind of teamwork we need to use in the fortress and if we do, we should be in good shape.
Experience from this session is 400 each.
This Week’s Adventure:
Perhaps ‘completed’ was too hasty a term. I thought I had finished my studies for the time being. I was beginning to assemble my supplies and some warmer clothing for the trip, when my instructor informed me that I had one more task to complete. I was to make preparations and at moonrise I would summon a familiar. I was put off by the idea at first – my life had been so hectic of late, I was unsure of travelling with an animal in tow. While I have had pets before, they were always in a quiet home with a warm hearth. I did not think an animal would take well to adventures such as the ones I now found myself in. Then again there was a day that I did not think I would take well to those adventures either. He seemed to anticipate my concerns and told me that I underestimated the loyalty and intelligence of such animals and that he had no doubt it would help me greatly in the trials to come. Further it would be an important step in allowing the magic within me to flourish and perform at my direction.
So as instructed, I gathered the necessary materials, and at moonrise, we began. I had studied the ritual thoroughly and felt prepared – it seemed straightforward enough. Then my instructor said “You must listen to me carefully Kayleigh – this is not as simple as it seems. Once the ritual has started you must follow it through to the end. You must not stop, regardless of distraction, or pain, or any interruption. If you do not complete it, there are unfortunate consequences. Heed my warning.” This gave me pause – I had no idea what type of interruption could occur but there was an ominous tone in his voice that made me think my persistence would be tested and the consequences would be severe.
At moonrise we began. It went well at first and I had few missteps. The words of the old tongue flowed easily and the first few hours went by quickly.
After a few hours, I became aware of a presence. I saw nothing and heard nothing. My instructor was napping on a couch at the time. But I was sure there was something nearby, watching. It wasn’t malicious or evil, but more of a feeling of curiosity – as though I had attracted something’s attention. The feeling grew stronger over the next hours until I was certain I was being closely examined by something unseen. I continued the ritual.
By the time dawn was near, I had grown almost used to the presence. I had come to accept it as part of the ritual and continued with the ancient words. The incense still burned slowly in the braziers and the candles still burned strongly, and I drew strength from their quiet flames. But the building presence was coalescing into something more . . . tangible for lack of a better word. Just before dawn I added more incense to a brazier and when I looked up at the window I saw a shape there. It startled me enough that I almost forgot the next phrase of the incantation. Fortunately I recovered my wits quickly and continued.
I sat again in my circle and looked at the shadow. As the sun slowly rose, it was clear this was no shadowy undead figure – it was some feline predator – silent, vicious, and deadly. Then a little more light came through the window and instead I saw a cat.
No longer vicious and deadly, it was simply a cat. There were certainly enough of them in Greyhawk. He studied me from the window for some time. And the building presence that had been in the room for hours blended with his warm golden eyes. No chance visit from a stray cat, this creature was considering whether to answer my call. And as it watched me, I continued my incantation.
After an hour or more, he jumped down from the window with a simple grace. He made no sound as he landed, but my instructor still awoke with a start and looked about. He saw me, still repeating my incantation. And then he saw the cat, and he smiled slightly, but then tried to hide it so I would not notice his grin. And he watched.
The cat slowly investigated the room. My eyes were locked on him. He was fascinating. He moved without a sound, every step perfectly placed. He was brown and orange and looked like a small tiger. His tail flicked absently as he moved around the room, investigating shelves and books. He seemed to take little interest in me nor my instructor.
I continued my incantation unhurriedly – according to the ritual, I would be continuing until nearly moonrise. The cat could investigate to his hearts content. He wound his way around the room until he was near the couch. My teacher was still sitting on the couch watching us both. The cat sat down and looked at him with some impatience. When my instructor did nothing but return the gaze, the cat let out an impertinent meow. My teacher quickly got off the couch and backed away, and the cat looked at him with a disdainful sideways look and got on the couch. I had to fight from laughing and interrupting my chant. The cat then sniffed at the leftover food on my instructors plate and wrinkled his nose at it. He then turned back to lay on the couch in a sunny spot and watch me. At that point I decided he was the most beautiful creature I ever had seen.
He spent an hour napping and watching me at the same time. It was around mid-morning and the sun had shifted away from the couch enough that it was no longer warm, and he seemed bored with laying about. He got down and walked over to me, just within the chalk circle I had drawn on the floor. He was within arms reach of me but any move towards him would interrupt the ritual. He sat down and looked at me as I continued my chant.
He looked at me again. His look said “Pet me.” And I dearly wanted to. He was so majestic and adorable at the same time I wanted to reach out and pet him. And the look from my instructor echoed his warning in my ears – to pet him was to interrupt the ceremony.
As if slightly annoyed that I did not grasp his message, he moved a few inches closer and again looked at me. This time it was more of a “Pet me silly elf! Why aren’t you petting me yet?” And again I nearly did. But I continued my incantation.
And he turned his head slightly and looked again as if to say “Pet me, please?” and he let out the softest squeak. And he was so adorable and wonderful that I couldn’t refuse him. And I let the words from the chant fall from my lips and I reached out and scratched him between his ears. He raised his head into my hand and walked into my lap and settled down for further attention.
As he did, I realized I’d failed. I had stopped the ceremony, and wasted all my efforts. Likely the bonding was not complete and this precious cat would depart. Not to mention whatever other consequences awaited me. I looked shamefully up at my instructor, even so only feeling slight remorse as I could feel the cat’s purr in my lap.
Rather than looking at me in stern disapproval, he was smiling. My confusion must have been evident on my face, and he simply said “To be willing to accept consequences for the love of your familiar is truly to be worthy of him.” He smiled again and left us alone. And then I understood that the true test was to know when to stop the ceremony.
I’ve named him Rasha, in old elven. It’s a name he’s agreed to deal with for the time being. He has his own name but it’s more of a concept right now than something I can verbalize. He’s quite smart and I know he’ll make a wonderful companion. And I’m going to need his help for this trip.
After our preparations were complete, Lord Gelban briefed us again. We reviewed the route and he also added that there had been several raids on merchant caravans in the area near Blasingdel and he would like us to look into those as well as a favor to the local authorities. The rest was much like our first briefing, and we were shown the maker’s mark of the dwarven smith whose weapons we were to retrieve.
We set off quietly and were hardly noticed leaving town. Of course if we had been, I’d have been surprised given the number of comings and goings around Greyhawk. We had an uneventful trip northwest, both following rivers and crossing overland, staying at inns and roadside taverns for the most part.
But as we were nearing the edge of Furyondy’s territory, fate brought us across a most disturbing scene. We were travelling along the edge of a small forest and came across a band of orcs in the distance. We carefully scouted them out and saw several disturbing sights. First, they were marked with Bright Hills heraldry – these orcs had come from far to the south beyond Greyhawk. Second, they were clearly planting some type of small sapling. Third, they were being supervised by an orcish Druid and his wolf companion. The Druid seemed respectful to the orcs but also was clearly the one giving orders. My mind immediately shuddered with thoughts of the Gulthias tree and the horrors it spawned and my instinct said there was a link. And instinct that proved to be sadly correct. We went backwards along their path and Rasha’s nose easily found the newly planted saplings, for the ground they had been planted in was soaked with fresh blood. There were two varieties of plants. From the orc’s conversations we inferred that one was a twig horror and the other was a bark blight. The twig horrors were mentioned in my vision from Olidamarra and again I shivered.
We collected ourselves and quickly devised a plan to ambush the orcs. Orcs are not persistent hunters – they are too lazy to chase healthy prey. They will however chase an injured animal. I was all too familiar with the ways of the wretched orcs – it was due to them I first set aside a spellbook for a bow, and because of them many in my village were killed. We devised a plan that entailed using a spell to create an image of an injured stag, and this would lure the orcs in to our ambush.
But as we circled to get in front of the orcs, Jozan’s horse took a bad step and went down. Fortunately neither Jozan nor the horse was injured but the horse let out enough of a cry to alert the orcs. Our carefully laid plan was about to fall apart unless some revisions were made quickly.
Instead of conjuring the image of a stag, I instead conjured the image of a horse, limping on one leg. The orcs were hardly particular about their dinner and this would easily explain the noise. The horse limped away from them and towards us, drawing five of the six orcs with it. (Fortunately the Druid was nowhere to be seen, having gone on ahead presumably.) The orcs were within ten feet of the limping horse and we struck. I doubt they even realized it was a phantasm until we attacked.
The battle was brief and decisive. Dravot invoked Pelor’s blessings upon us all. Valanthe, who had disappeared into the tall grass, reappeared behind one orc and dealt him a severe blow. Scorch called a magical sleep down upon some of the orcs. During the battle one orc awakened another but both were cut down. The last orc made a run for the shelter of the woods when he realized his life would be forfeit if he remained. I could do nothing but smile as I watched him run in the open field. I drew and fired twice, and he rolled down the far side of a small rise dead from my fire. I was impressed by my companions quick action – clearly we had all learned much in our adventures thus far. We checked the orcs and found more saplings but little else of merit. But there were signs that indicated that the orcs worshipped Vecna. Our eyes turned towards the forest and the remaining orc and the Druid, but we were brought up short. A storm was gathering out of the clear sky – the Druid was aware of our ambush and was preparing an action of his own. If the storm reached full strength he would be able to summon it’s deadly lightning and we would stand little chance against such an assault. Deciding we were overmatched, we withdrew from the area with all speed. It was more important to bring word of this onward than it was to hunt down the remaining orcs, and little would be served by our death in any case.
We rode onward, and soon crossed into Highfolk. Jozan was raised here and knew the area well. The countryside was dotted with alarm bells and while seemingly a peaceful farming community, Jozan assured us that they folk were well prepared for any assault. It was becoming dark and we would not reach the city before nightfall. Jozan suggested that we take shelter in a farmhouse and that all are welcome who are willing to work to earn their keep. He could have been no more right. The folk of the home, both human and elven, were warm and welcoming to strangers and we had a good meal in exchange for our skills, each according to his talents. Dravot and Jozan were able to heal the minor ailments of the local folk. Rackhir and I assisted in re-supplying the arrow stock of the house and other household chores. Scorch I believe was washing dishes for his hands were rather wrinkled and he kept mumbling about lye soap the rest of the night. During the evening I managed to find out more about the Stonetooth without being too obvious about it and had a good idea of how to get there.
As we sat about the common room, talking with the locals and enjoying the wine, an elf arrived with his party. The locals hailed him by name as Aran’gel. I was told he was the local warden. He and his men scattered about the room, and he hung his bow on a rack near the door, in a spot that seemed almost reserved for him. The bow was gilt in silver and while it was clearly a masterpiece of the boyer’s art, it was the enchantment that made it truly exceptional. I should be as fortunate to have such a bow some day. Strangely his quiver had but three arrows in it – surely enchanted as well. Aran’gel recognized Jozan and joined us at our table. He was a pleasant and handsome man, and a wealth of information about the local area. Jozan trusted the man and was able to get detailed information about the raids on the merchants, the way to Blasingdel and to the Stonetooth beyond and so on. Jozan also informed him of our encounter with the orcs and what the saplings surely were. Even though the area was beyond Highfolk’s borders, he said that he would strike out with a party and deal with the issue. We warned him of the Druid we encountered and his apparent strength and he simply said he had a way to deal with Druids and removed an arrow from his boot and laid it on the table. It was apparent to me that there was nothing special about this arrow. I looked up from the arrow to him and it suddenly all came together – he was an elven champion – one of the arcane archers who had melded the Art and the Bow into a single art. Each time he drew and fired he put spellcraft into the act and his arrows would fall enchanted as surely as the one I found in the Citadel. I had met only of his like before, in Celene, passing through meeting with my father. I barely had the talent to understand who he was then, but there was no mistake as to the nature of Aran’gel. At that point Rasha’s curiosity also manifested and he stopped napping inside my cloak to come up on the table and investigate Aran’gel for himself. Aran’gel regarding him for a moment then held out his hand, which Rasha sniffed and then allowed himself to be pet in his own insistent way. Aran’gel seemed amused by this, and looked at me and remarked “A new familiar? The bond is fresh but very strong.” I nodded and we continued our conversation.
Upon reflection, I was even more surprised at Aran’gel – I did not realize that Highfolk had such elves among them. Of course since some elves left Celene and settled in Highfolk, it’s possible that the tradition came with them. Or perhaps he received his training elsewhere. When we return through here, I may have to ask him.
In the morning after a good breakfast, we set out towards the city of Highfolk. Once there, we found a merchant caravan heading towards Blasingdel. We offered to accompany them as bodyguards in an attempt to ambush the raiders – since they were not easily found by organized forces, we hoped we could bring them to us. However the caravan was not attacked and we reached Blasingdel without incident. There we spoke to the mayor who informed us that Lord Gelban’s last group had determined that the orcs were holed up in a fortress near the Stonetooth. So it seems both our goals point northwards into the mountains and the Stonetooth. It would seem that the orcs have moved in and we’ll need to evict them before doing our survey of Glitterhaime.
I just wish it wasn’t so cold.
The Forge of Fury - Chapter 1
Second published module. We were being sent north because clearly Greyhawk was too dangerous for us for the time being, and because Lord Gelban wanted us to help his old friend. I can now speculate he had other reasons for us being in the area also.
OOC Notes:
Wizardru would like to move us along to the fortress quickly since there’s quite a bit of stuff there to do. He also has warned us that this won’t be as easy as the Citadel. Personally I think we did great with the ambush of the orcs and that’s the kind of teamwork we need to use in the fortress and if we do, we should be in good shape.
Experience from this session is 400 each.
This Week’s Adventure:
Perhaps ‘completed’ was too hasty a term. I thought I had finished my studies for the time being. I was beginning to assemble my supplies and some warmer clothing for the trip, when my instructor informed me that I had one more task to complete. I was to make preparations and at moonrise I would summon a familiar. I was put off by the idea at first – my life had been so hectic of late, I was unsure of travelling with an animal in tow. While I have had pets before, they were always in a quiet home with a warm hearth. I did not think an animal would take well to adventures such as the ones I now found myself in. Then again there was a day that I did not think I would take well to those adventures either. He seemed to anticipate my concerns and told me that I underestimated the loyalty and intelligence of such animals and that he had no doubt it would help me greatly in the trials to come. Further it would be an important step in allowing the magic within me to flourish and perform at my direction.
So as instructed, I gathered the necessary materials, and at moonrise, we began. I had studied the ritual thoroughly and felt prepared – it seemed straightforward enough. Then my instructor said “You must listen to me carefully Kayleigh – this is not as simple as it seems. Once the ritual has started you must follow it through to the end. You must not stop, regardless of distraction, or pain, or any interruption. If you do not complete it, there are unfortunate consequences. Heed my warning.” This gave me pause – I had no idea what type of interruption could occur but there was an ominous tone in his voice that made me think my persistence would be tested and the consequences would be severe.
At moonrise we began. It went well at first and I had few missteps. The words of the old tongue flowed easily and the first few hours went by quickly.
After a few hours, I became aware of a presence. I saw nothing and heard nothing. My instructor was napping on a couch at the time. But I was sure there was something nearby, watching. It wasn’t malicious or evil, but more of a feeling of curiosity – as though I had attracted something’s attention. The feeling grew stronger over the next hours until I was certain I was being closely examined by something unseen. I continued the ritual.
By the time dawn was near, I had grown almost used to the presence. I had come to accept it as part of the ritual and continued with the ancient words. The incense still burned slowly in the braziers and the candles still burned strongly, and I drew strength from their quiet flames. But the building presence was coalescing into something more . . . tangible for lack of a better word. Just before dawn I added more incense to a brazier and when I looked up at the window I saw a shape there. It startled me enough that I almost forgot the next phrase of the incantation. Fortunately I recovered my wits quickly and continued.
I sat again in my circle and looked at the shadow. As the sun slowly rose, it was clear this was no shadowy undead figure – it was some feline predator – silent, vicious, and deadly. Then a little more light came through the window and instead I saw a cat.
No longer vicious and deadly, it was simply a cat. There were certainly enough of them in Greyhawk. He studied me from the window for some time. And the building presence that had been in the room for hours blended with his warm golden eyes. No chance visit from a stray cat, this creature was considering whether to answer my call. And as it watched me, I continued my incantation.
After an hour or more, he jumped down from the window with a simple grace. He made no sound as he landed, but my instructor still awoke with a start and looked about. He saw me, still repeating my incantation. And then he saw the cat, and he smiled slightly, but then tried to hide it so I would not notice his grin. And he watched.
The cat slowly investigated the room. My eyes were locked on him. He was fascinating. He moved without a sound, every step perfectly placed. He was brown and orange and looked like a small tiger. His tail flicked absently as he moved around the room, investigating shelves and books. He seemed to take little interest in me nor my instructor.
I continued my incantation unhurriedly – according to the ritual, I would be continuing until nearly moonrise. The cat could investigate to his hearts content. He wound his way around the room until he was near the couch. My teacher was still sitting on the couch watching us both. The cat sat down and looked at him with some impatience. When my instructor did nothing but return the gaze, the cat let out an impertinent meow. My teacher quickly got off the couch and backed away, and the cat looked at him with a disdainful sideways look and got on the couch. I had to fight from laughing and interrupting my chant. The cat then sniffed at the leftover food on my instructors plate and wrinkled his nose at it. He then turned back to lay on the couch in a sunny spot and watch me. At that point I decided he was the most beautiful creature I ever had seen.
He spent an hour napping and watching me at the same time. It was around mid-morning and the sun had shifted away from the couch enough that it was no longer warm, and he seemed bored with laying about. He got down and walked over to me, just within the chalk circle I had drawn on the floor. He was within arms reach of me but any move towards him would interrupt the ritual. He sat down and looked at me as I continued my chant.
He looked at me again. His look said “Pet me.” And I dearly wanted to. He was so majestic and adorable at the same time I wanted to reach out and pet him. And the look from my instructor echoed his warning in my ears – to pet him was to interrupt the ceremony.
As if slightly annoyed that I did not grasp his message, he moved a few inches closer and again looked at me. This time it was more of a “Pet me silly elf! Why aren’t you petting me yet?” And again I nearly did. But I continued my incantation.
And he turned his head slightly and looked again as if to say “Pet me, please?” and he let out the softest squeak. And he was so adorable and wonderful that I couldn’t refuse him. And I let the words from the chant fall from my lips and I reached out and scratched him between his ears. He raised his head into my hand and walked into my lap and settled down for further attention.
As he did, I realized I’d failed. I had stopped the ceremony, and wasted all my efforts. Likely the bonding was not complete and this precious cat would depart. Not to mention whatever other consequences awaited me. I looked shamefully up at my instructor, even so only feeling slight remorse as I could feel the cat’s purr in my lap.
Rather than looking at me in stern disapproval, he was smiling. My confusion must have been evident on my face, and he simply said “To be willing to accept consequences for the love of your familiar is truly to be worthy of him.” He smiled again and left us alone. And then I understood that the true test was to know when to stop the ceremony.
I’ve named him Rasha, in old elven. It’s a name he’s agreed to deal with for the time being. He has his own name but it’s more of a concept right now than something I can verbalize. He’s quite smart and I know he’ll make a wonderful companion. And I’m going to need his help for this trip.
After our preparations were complete, Lord Gelban briefed us again. We reviewed the route and he also added that there had been several raids on merchant caravans in the area near Blasingdel and he would like us to look into those as well as a favor to the local authorities. The rest was much like our first briefing, and we were shown the maker’s mark of the dwarven smith whose weapons we were to retrieve.
We set off quietly and were hardly noticed leaving town. Of course if we had been, I’d have been surprised given the number of comings and goings around Greyhawk. We had an uneventful trip northwest, both following rivers and crossing overland, staying at inns and roadside taverns for the most part.
But as we were nearing the edge of Furyondy’s territory, fate brought us across a most disturbing scene. We were travelling along the edge of a small forest and came across a band of orcs in the distance. We carefully scouted them out and saw several disturbing sights. First, they were marked with Bright Hills heraldry – these orcs had come from far to the south beyond Greyhawk. Second, they were clearly planting some type of small sapling. Third, they were being supervised by an orcish Druid and his wolf companion. The Druid seemed respectful to the orcs but also was clearly the one giving orders. My mind immediately shuddered with thoughts of the Gulthias tree and the horrors it spawned and my instinct said there was a link. And instinct that proved to be sadly correct. We went backwards along their path and Rasha’s nose easily found the newly planted saplings, for the ground they had been planted in was soaked with fresh blood. There were two varieties of plants. From the orc’s conversations we inferred that one was a twig horror and the other was a bark blight. The twig horrors were mentioned in my vision from Olidamarra and again I shivered.
We collected ourselves and quickly devised a plan to ambush the orcs. Orcs are not persistent hunters – they are too lazy to chase healthy prey. They will however chase an injured animal. I was all too familiar with the ways of the wretched orcs – it was due to them I first set aside a spellbook for a bow, and because of them many in my village were killed. We devised a plan that entailed using a spell to create an image of an injured stag, and this would lure the orcs in to our ambush.
But as we circled to get in front of the orcs, Jozan’s horse took a bad step and went down. Fortunately neither Jozan nor the horse was injured but the horse let out enough of a cry to alert the orcs. Our carefully laid plan was about to fall apart unless some revisions were made quickly.
Instead of conjuring the image of a stag, I instead conjured the image of a horse, limping on one leg. The orcs were hardly particular about their dinner and this would easily explain the noise. The horse limped away from them and towards us, drawing five of the six orcs with it. (Fortunately the Druid was nowhere to be seen, having gone on ahead presumably.) The orcs were within ten feet of the limping horse and we struck. I doubt they even realized it was a phantasm until we attacked.
The battle was brief and decisive. Dravot invoked Pelor’s blessings upon us all. Valanthe, who had disappeared into the tall grass, reappeared behind one orc and dealt him a severe blow. Scorch called a magical sleep down upon some of the orcs. During the battle one orc awakened another but both were cut down. The last orc made a run for the shelter of the woods when he realized his life would be forfeit if he remained. I could do nothing but smile as I watched him run in the open field. I drew and fired twice, and he rolled down the far side of a small rise dead from my fire. I was impressed by my companions quick action – clearly we had all learned much in our adventures thus far. We checked the orcs and found more saplings but little else of merit. But there were signs that indicated that the orcs worshipped Vecna. Our eyes turned towards the forest and the remaining orc and the Druid, but we were brought up short. A storm was gathering out of the clear sky – the Druid was aware of our ambush and was preparing an action of his own. If the storm reached full strength he would be able to summon it’s deadly lightning and we would stand little chance against such an assault. Deciding we were overmatched, we withdrew from the area with all speed. It was more important to bring word of this onward than it was to hunt down the remaining orcs, and little would be served by our death in any case.
We rode onward, and soon crossed into Highfolk. Jozan was raised here and knew the area well. The countryside was dotted with alarm bells and while seemingly a peaceful farming community, Jozan assured us that they folk were well prepared for any assault. It was becoming dark and we would not reach the city before nightfall. Jozan suggested that we take shelter in a farmhouse and that all are welcome who are willing to work to earn their keep. He could have been no more right. The folk of the home, both human and elven, were warm and welcoming to strangers and we had a good meal in exchange for our skills, each according to his talents. Dravot and Jozan were able to heal the minor ailments of the local folk. Rackhir and I assisted in re-supplying the arrow stock of the house and other household chores. Scorch I believe was washing dishes for his hands were rather wrinkled and he kept mumbling about lye soap the rest of the night. During the evening I managed to find out more about the Stonetooth without being too obvious about it and had a good idea of how to get there.
As we sat about the common room, talking with the locals and enjoying the wine, an elf arrived with his party. The locals hailed him by name as Aran’gel. I was told he was the local warden. He and his men scattered about the room, and he hung his bow on a rack near the door, in a spot that seemed almost reserved for him. The bow was gilt in silver and while it was clearly a masterpiece of the boyer’s art, it was the enchantment that made it truly exceptional. I should be as fortunate to have such a bow some day. Strangely his quiver had but three arrows in it – surely enchanted as well. Aran’gel recognized Jozan and joined us at our table. He was a pleasant and handsome man, and a wealth of information about the local area. Jozan trusted the man and was able to get detailed information about the raids on the merchants, the way to Blasingdel and to the Stonetooth beyond and so on. Jozan also informed him of our encounter with the orcs and what the saplings surely were. Even though the area was beyond Highfolk’s borders, he said that he would strike out with a party and deal with the issue. We warned him of the Druid we encountered and his apparent strength and he simply said he had a way to deal with Druids and removed an arrow from his boot and laid it on the table. It was apparent to me that there was nothing special about this arrow. I looked up from the arrow to him and it suddenly all came together – he was an elven champion – one of the arcane archers who had melded the Art and the Bow into a single art. Each time he drew and fired he put spellcraft into the act and his arrows would fall enchanted as surely as the one I found in the Citadel. I had met only of his like before, in Celene, passing through meeting with my father. I barely had the talent to understand who he was then, but there was no mistake as to the nature of Aran’gel. At that point Rasha’s curiosity also manifested and he stopped napping inside my cloak to come up on the table and investigate Aran’gel for himself. Aran’gel regarding him for a moment then held out his hand, which Rasha sniffed and then allowed himself to be pet in his own insistent way. Aran’gel seemed amused by this, and looked at me and remarked “A new familiar? The bond is fresh but very strong.” I nodded and we continued our conversation.
Upon reflection, I was even more surprised at Aran’gel – I did not realize that Highfolk had such elves among them. Of course since some elves left Celene and settled in Highfolk, it’s possible that the tradition came with them. Or perhaps he received his training elsewhere. When we return through here, I may have to ask him.
In the morning after a good breakfast, we set out towards the city of Highfolk. Once there, we found a merchant caravan heading towards Blasingdel. We offered to accompany them as bodyguards in an attempt to ambush the raiders – since they were not easily found by organized forces, we hoped we could bring them to us. However the caravan was not attacked and we reached Blasingdel without incident. There we spoke to the mayor who informed us that Lord Gelban’s last group had determined that the orcs were holed up in a fortress near the Stonetooth. So it seems both our goals point northwards into the mountains and the Stonetooth. It would seem that the orcs have moved in and we’ll need to evict them before doing our survey of Glitterhaime.
I just wish it wasn’t so cold.