Tears fill your eyes.
Not tears of sadness, nor joy. Tears of pain. Acrid, black smoke fills the air around you, turning your saviors into dark silhouettes. The tree that had briefly been Kaereth’s sanctuary cracks, hurling ash and cinders into the air around you.
As the enormity of your victory, and the pain of loss sink in completely, you turn your attention to the source of your tears. It has been a long autumn here, just as it was in Thanesrin. With the summer rains long gone, and only light snowfall drifting this way from the Oceanus coast, the fire will soon spread unless something is done.
L’Aurel, unconcerned with the potential of the flames spreading for the moment, steps toward one of the orcs that had served as Baron Kiva’s honor guard. Quickly picking up one of his Kega’rin, she edges closer to the burning tree. As she gets closer, the trunk cracks again, this time more severely. Teetering for a moment, the tree crashes to the dry, leaf-covered ground.
Gasping, fearing for Kaereth, she runs through the spreading flames toward his last known position, praying feverishly that he had managed to regain consciousness before it fell. Coughing, smoke filling her lungs, she continues forward, determined to save her friend. Throwing a dirty arm across her face, she presses on.
Moving closer, two figures resolves out of the smoke. A tall, broad shouldered human with several open wounds and a soot-stained blonde beard limps out of the smoke. His chest heaves, dragging a mostly conscious half-orc from the danger of the flames. Gasping, then coughing, Fraerathir of Aesirinn shouts, “Help me! He weighs more than a horse!”
L’Aurel steps forward, putting her own narrow shoulder underneath the babbling monk’s armpit. “I not feel good…” Kaereth groans, his usually cheerful greenish features taking on a grey, graven cast. Pulling the monk, who himself is trying feebly to walk out of the flames, the three collapse on a pile of unburning leaves a few yards from the roaring (and now spreading) flames.
As they collapse, the sun dips completely behind the trees, the last orange sliver of light slowly fading as the light slips further beneath the horizon, casting the forest into shadow, save where the flames rage.
Seeing Kaereth alive, Arfin and Archonus begin to pull the Baron’s guards out of the pools of quickly congealing blood where they fell, toward Baron Kiva’s finely crafted coach. Grunting with effort, they manage to move the huge orcs to the wagon, but by the time the fourth orc is piled within the wagon, the flames have spread further.
Moments later, a great shadow passes overhead, and then leaves fly outward as a huge, winged beast flaps its powerful wings, touching down ahead of the wagon. Nearly twice the length of a man in length, the creature is a recent addition to the party. Lion’s eyes peak out from the feathery crest of an eagle’s head, gazing outward with a sort of cool wisdom from behind the wickedly curved golden beak. Long, sharp talons dig into the ground, and the creature lies down, stretching and yawning, then tucking it’s beak under one of its great wings. Apparently ignoring the acrid smoke, the griffon nestles itself close to the warmth of flame.
Justice leaps off of her mount, and walks briskly toward the spreading inferno. Muttering a quick prayer to the Light, she raises her arms skyward, closing her eyes and setting her mouth into a solemn frown. Light flashes, like tiny sunbursts, around the orange flames of the growing fire, and then you hear a great hissing sound as gallon after gallon of water appears over the rushing flames, changing black, acrid smoke to grey, billowy clouds.
“I lost him,” she says, sheathing her long, strange sword. “He’s far more powerful than when last we saw him…I fear what resources the King may have to make a fearful traitor like Edriss so powerful. Nevertheless, we must hurry back to the camp. The Light only knows what mischief our former friend is causing in our absence.”
Xath speaks, a high, thin, but strangely elegant voice coming out of a short, buxom dwarf. “Should we worry about the fire?” As she turns to the group, the buxom, dark-skinned dwarf seems to melt away. Revealed is a tall, lithe, fair-skinned elf.
“Extinguished, I think,” says Archon, standing from a crouch near the smoldering remains of the oak. With his blood-red mask covering his chiseled features, he continues, “I agree with Justice—whatever your friend Edriss has become is clearly dangerous. We cannot expect to treat him as an ally…and he is no doubt ready for us. We may need a distra…”
Before he can finish, Kaereth moans, underscoring your need to return to camp, quickly.
Xath speaks once more, quickly taking charge of the situation, “Korienne will be gathering the refugees even now to hear the edict of Lord Hyrwl. Our actions will probably ensure that Lord Hyrwl is a little late, but we can’t count on that alone. Whatever happens, we need to be there, ready to act!”
Arfin, looking slightly confused, turns to the elven woman who until recently had been a dwarf of his clan. “Korienne? Lass, who is Korienne?”
Blushing, Xath responds, “A friend, and a potential ally. I’ll tell you more, later. Now, we need to hurry!”
With that, you return to the camp, only to find…
