Seravin's Tales of the Night Below (Two Updates this Week - 07/24/07)

[Seravin]

Looking over the past several posts it's obvious that I'm favoring Ashimar and Kestral a bit. That's partly due to character design and the players themselves.

Ashimar's player is pretty out-going and comfortable with taking the lead.
Kestral's player is less extroverted but Kestral was starting to become the face-woman of the group.
Panther's player was going through an extended absence so Panther was fading into the background.
While Jallarzi's player was still getting use to this entire role-playing thing.
Kellron's player is fairly extroverted but he played Kellron conservatively.

Still and all I've got good players - I just hope I can do them justice as we go forward.

 

[Seravin]

Thurmaster and Tauster

Like its owner, Tauster’s cottage was comfortably disheveled. The cottage had four distinct rooms that all somehow seemed to blend into each other with little warning. Upon entering a guest first saw the kitchen and its sturdy little table (made by Garlyd in Milbourne). Scattered about the table were a handful of parchments and an odd book or two. Off to the left was an open doorway that could be closed off with a rather tattered looking curtain (actually an old bed sheet). To the rear of the kitchen was a sturdy looking oak door, bound in iron.

The L-shaped room beyond the curtain was the largest in the cottage and served as a combination study, library, workshop, lab, and living room. In one corner a pile of books teetered precariously against the wall. Along the opposite wall was a scarred and burned table of some indeterminate wood; beakers, alembics, and pots were scattered seemingly haphazardly across its surface. There were two chairs in this living area, arranged in front of the fireplace that was opposite the door. Both were comfortably stuffed and on the side table between the two chairs were a pile of plates.

If one were to go through the forbidding, oaken door in the kitchen (presuming they got past the Arcane Lock) they would find Tauster’s bedroom. The bedroom laid host to a sturdy bed with a sagging mattress, several blankets strewn about the floor, a wardrobe of some dark wood, and an iron washbasin. The ever-familiar pile of scrolls and books were present, and there were always at least two plates and a mug sitting on the table next to the bed.

Today, just two days after her return from Parlfray Keep, Tauster was entertaining Jallarzi in his workroom. The old wizard was enjoying teaching Jallarzi a little more of his craft and he wondered at her own tales of what she and her companions had done.

The wizard’s blue eyes crinkled as he shuffled through a pile of papers next to him. “So the bandit leader was a cultist, eh? And he was selling people to orcs?” Jallarzi nodded and Tauster sighed, sounding a little older. “At least Jelenneth didn’t pass through his hands.” He said worriedly.

The old man drifted a bit, lost in thought, and then shook his head. “I ramble so and I’m sure you’re much more interested in what I have discovered about the items you left on my doorstep then my random questions.”

“I always like listening to you.” The sorceress-mage protested. “You’ve helped me a lot with the spells you’ve taught me.”

Tauster smiled, pleased at the compliment, but he shook his head. “Nonsense, girl. You’re a natural at this, even more so then I was at your age. I’ve never seen an apprentice progress as fast as you have.” He shook his head in wonder. “Most apprentices require a year or more of concentrated study before they get to a point where they’re ready to make objects disappear. You’ve been studying two months with much traveling. The Library…” Tauster trailed off and looked about suddenly. Then he smiled at Jallarzi. “No matter. You’re talented and it’s been a pleasure to teach you.”

Jallarzi smiled at the wizard but kept silent. If she noticed or wondered that the mention of the Library made Tauster worried, she made no comment.

Tauster stood up and walked to his worktable. “At any rate, you and your companions found quite a trove here. The bow, the bolts, the shield, and the four swords have simple enchantments of strength and accuracy. The enchantments on the flail, the crossbow, and chainmail are stronger.” Tauster shrugged at the assessment, clearly uninterested in the named items.

“These two rings are protective in nature. The silver one will provide a minor deflection against attacks. The iron ring is slightly stronger though and it has a property that I’ve been unable to identify.”

“This ring and the cloak are the true treasures though. The ring will prevent any magical paralysis while worn and the cloak grants the power of winged flight on command.” He touched a piece of paper next to the cloak. “I’ve written the command word here.”

Tauster then touched the pair of steel bracers lying on the table. They were plain looking armbands with some sort of traceries on them. If one looked closely enough however, it could be seen those traceries were actually arcane script that covered nearly the entire surface of the bands. A look of lust flashed in Tauster’s eyes momentarily. “These were the most potent items you recovered though. Wearing these will protect you as if you were wearing chain mail armor. They’re hideously expensive to make and I’ve only seen stronger ones once before.”

Finally he gestured towards the four steel vials the group had recovered and shook his head. “I don’t really know what these are.” He admitted. “Whoever drinks one will be more susceptible to controlling effects like a Domination spell, but I don’t have the resources to tell more. All in all the bandits you found were extraordinarily well equipped.” Unsaid was how troubling such a thought was.

By this time Jallarzi had stood up and was standing next to the old wizard. “Thank you.” She said feelingly. “We appreciate your time and effort.”

Tauster waved his hand. “It was simple really and you and your companions paid for the materials and time.”

Jallarzi looked down at her feet and traced one of the cobblestones idly with her boot. “I wanted to talk to you about that.” The sorceress said it in the off-handed way of someone approaching a subject they think is touchy.

Tauster was old enough to have heard that tone of voice before and he was no fool. It didn’t take him long to see where Jallarzi might be heading. Instead of reacting though he just cocked his head. “How so?” He asked.

Jallarzi looked up from the floor and into her new master’s eyes. “I was hoping you could teach me the Identify spell.” She admitted.

Tauster looked at her for a long moment. “Why ever would I do that?” He asked with some incredulousness.

The sorceress smiled winningly. “Because you like me?” She hazarded.

Tauster snorted. “I do, but your business is represents good income for me.” He waved his hand at the village outside his cottage. “You don’t think they pay very well, do you?” He shook his head. “It helps me eat, but the components I need are expensive. Why should I give you the spell when it means my livelihood?”

Jallarzi thought about it. The spells were expensive she knew, if only because of the bloody pearl. Truth be told, his premium for casting the spell wasn’t that expensive given their newfound wealth. But it rankled. “We could always take our business elsewhere.” She pointed out. “Blasingdale has a Library.”

Tauster almost imperceptibly froze. When he next spoke, it was slow and deliberate. “I have to admit I wouldn’t like that.” He admitted. “Perhaps we can compromise.”

Jallarzi cocked her head to the side. “Go on.”

“I’ll sell you the spell, think of it as one last fee that might see me through the year. I think three hundred gold lions would be fair.” He waved his hand at the pile of weapons. “One of those would easily pay for it if you don’t have the money.”

The white-haired wizard paused a moment to allow Jallarzi to digest that, then he continued. “Additionally I want your oath that you won’t use that spell for anyone else around here. Identifications are part of my livelihood. I don’t want to see that threatened.”

Tauster didn’t know how much money the party had recovered from the bandits. If he had, he might have asked more. Instead Jallarzi thought about it and when she spoke it was with deliberate thought. “I think I can agree to that.” She said finally.

Thus it was agreed. Within two days Jallarzi had a new spell in her spellbook, though none of the pearls to actually cast the spell. On her forearms, Jallarzi wore the enchanted steel armbands, while the iron ring graced her left hand. Kestral wore the ring that granted protection against Holds and Ashimar wore the bat like cloak of the dead Treshan priest. Kellron had one of the magical swords at his side and bore the enchanted shield (recently painted to cover the original markings).

When the party left Thurmaster the next day, they headed westwards towards Milbourne, unsure of what to do next, but determined to do it in more comfortable surroundings. There were rumors of trouble up near the Eel-hold and they had yet to go back to the Garlstone Mines. Perhaps they could even go to the Hardlow Forest and look for Lyntern’s Gleaming Glade and the treasures lost there. For his part, Kellron threatened to buy the Hounds and Tails from its current owner, if only so they would have a decent place to stay when the party came through Thurmaster.

 

[Seravin]

Three weeks and counting.

No new update, but I thought I'd let people know I'm still planning on continuing. Work has been a bear - we've entered into planning for next year's budget and that's been taking some time.

Hopefully in the next few days I'll have something though.

-seravin

 

[Seravin]

Trouble in Milbourne

Latina. The Imperial Mother. Patroness of the Empire. The Defender. Beyond the Imperial Coronet, her symbol is a blue kite shield bearing an upright, flaming bastard-sword. It is said that the Imperial bloodline can be traced to Latina herself and thus draws their right to rule directly from the goddess.

Those who have a more cynical frame of mind see the religion as nothing more than the noble’s justification of their divine right. To some extent these cynical folk are correct. Divine right is a tenet of the church to be sure, but with Divine Right comes Divine Responsibility and that responsibility is the enforcement of Imperial Law.

Thus while there is a church to Latina in virtually every village, town, and city, the responsibility of the church is to the citizens. Firstly, the church is a source of schooling for those villages that do not have an Imperial Herald available to teach. Secondly, when asked, the church provides the role of advisor to the local ruler or community leader. Finally, in times of need, the church is a place of refuge for those who are in harm’s way.

The County of Haranshire holds only one formal church, which lies within the village of Milbourne. By rights, the forty year old Lafayer should have been appointed to the post when the previous priest had died this past winter. However Lafayer had a wanderer’s heart and whole-heartedly supported (insisted on) the ascension of Semheis to the post. Semheis had been an assistant to the last priest and thus had experience with the local folk, argued Lafayer. This left him free to travel amongst the smaller holdings of the County which contented Lafayer just fine.

It also suited Semheis. A church posting at his tender age of twenty-five was prestigious and it boosted his ego quite a bit. In his heart though, Semheis knew that he received the posting not so much on ability as luck. The knowledge made him somewhat sensitive so he compensated with a near-rabid zealous pursuit of his duties. Consequently Semheis wasn’t well liked by the folk of Milbourne, but it was hoped by the more patient folk that time would mellow him.

Night lay full upon Milbourne with the silver moon, Jola, hidden by a scattering of clouds. If the weather continued then there might be a light by the morning. It was the middle of summer and it was almost quiet in the sleepy town. Still the shock of learning that there were goblins to the south in the New Mire (”And it was caused by magic, you know.” spoke the locals) had given the village quite a bit to talk about. So much so, that the loss of Jelenneth was almost forgotten by all but those closest to her (”Such a fey child.”).

The church of Latina lay on the north edge of village, along the road that led to the Carmon Mines. The one-story church was made almost entirely of stone quarried from the mines, with a two-story tower attached to it. The gardens out back had been the prize of the old priest (”Robbard. Now there was a priest. He was patient. Such a nice man. Tch.”) and he had worked hard to make it a nice place. He had succeeded to and the garden was still a popular trysting spot for young couples. Unknown to most though obvious with a bit of though, Semheis (He’s in such a hurry. I know Latina is looking out after us. He never lets me forget!”) had since started maintaining the garden himself to honor the old priest. Behind the garden was the village’s graveyard, a quiet restful place.

Semheis himself lived in a small bedroom in the back of the church. As suited his nature and perception, the dark-haired, hawk-faced young man kept his bedroom as spotless as he kept the church itself – to better show an example. With the moon high and his duties done the young man was fast asleep in his room, retreated from his frustrated mis-understandings with the people of Milbourne.

Being on the edge of town there were no dogs to bark at the presence of the seven strangers who strode openly down the road that led into town. When the light of the stranger’s lantern fell upon the church, Semheis began to toss in his bed.

When they reached the church the strangers stopped. One of them, smaller then the rest, glided forward almost silently and inspected the front door. It took a few minutes of fumbling, but within a minute the small stranger had the simple lock on the door opened. Inside, Semheis began to sweat, fearful dreams stealing upon his sleep.

The largest of the seven strangers, standing almost nine feet tall, growled low with impatience. All but two of the five more human-sized strangers took an involuntary step back. Of the two, the one in robes growled himself and the tall one subsided.

Semheis woke with a start and sat up in bed, panting. His sheets were soaked. His breath slowed and steadied as he recognized the familiar surroundings. Something was wrong though. He could feel it. The young man got out of bed and padded over to the door. Mounted on the wall next to the door was his shield and sword. By tradition all priests were given some training in weapons – enamored with the legends Semheis had taken extra training with the blade. His hand was on the hilt when the front door of the church creaked opened.

As quietly as he could, Semheis pulled the blade down and opened his bedroom door. Quietly he moved down the small hallway to the curtain that separated his room from the worship area. Carefully he pushed the curtain aside with his blade and peered into the church. It was dark and quiet. There was also a slight breeze.

“Latina defend.” He intoned with a blessing, then concentrating further he invoked a blessing of light and the tip of sword began to glow. With a deep breath the young priest shoved the curtain fully aside and stepped into the worship area. By the light of the blade he took a quick look around.

To his left was the altar, apparently undisturbed. To his left…

Semheis started. Two men flanked the door, one dressed in well cared for splint mail, the other in dark robes. The dark robed one bore the iron-gauntlet symbol of Tresh, dark-lord of tyrrany. So startled by the sight, Semheis didn’t even notice that the entire doorway was filled with the lower half of some brutish form.

For a second nobody moved, then invoking a cry for Latina Semheis charged forward. He knew his death was upon him but it was going to cost the bastards dearly. With inhuman speed the armored man quick-stepped forward, interrupting Semheis’s charge. The fighter’s sword batted at Semheis, trying to disarm the priest. It almost worked but by the grace of Latina he kept a hold of his blade. Semheis was unable to return the favor.

Interrupted, Semheis tried to attack the armored man, but found his blade turned aside with every stroke. Idly the priest noticed that the fighter had unkempt, red hair and a mad look in his dark blue eyes.

Semheis heard the black-robed man beginning to intone. “Not in here, you bastard!” Yelled the priest. “Keep your foul god out of here.” Semheis’ command was not heeded. Suddenly all sound ceased about Semheis and the fighter.

Desperate, Semheis considered retreating until a child-like figure came up from behind him wielding a club; a warrow, also known as a halfling. The warrow moved quickly from his hiding spot and jumped up one of the pews to gain height. Semheis was completely unprepared for this attack and his shield was facing the menacing fighter in front of him. The club lashed out and snapped across the young priest’s head. He crumpled slowly to the ground, the world going red then black.

The black robed man moved to the doorway and looked out, shooing the hulking brute out of his way. “Get the boy.” He ordered the two other men standing outside. “Give him to Fulnak here, then come back and help me.” He smiled evilly. “We shouldn’t leave the church’s treasure’s unguarded after all.

 

[Seravin]

Ooof. Four weeks and no post.
Apologies to those who read, but this isn't a post either. I have one started but other things call. I'll see if I can post an update by Friday.

 

[Seravin]

It’s the Choices That We Make

Kellron and his four companions rode towards Milbourne in high spirits. They had left Kupier’s farm that morning, having overnighted with the older Imperial Scout and his wife, Delilah. The older couple had treated them with grand hospitality and they themselves had shared the good news that Oleanne was safe. For the last few weeks the wild-child had been watching tunnels deep in the woods and had been killing any orcs that had dared to come out.

Kupier had found the idea of tunnels running from Broken Spire to just south of his farm troubling, but with the orcs contained and the bandits of Broken Spire defeated, he seemed content to leave them alone for now.

In the light of the morning sun the only choices that lay before the small group was what were they going to do next? Lyntern had tried to entice them with stories of the Gleaming Glade in the Hardlow Woods; there were the massive portals underneath the Thornwood itself; there were even the rumors of the lizardfolk still living in the Shrieken Mire. With the sun full up in the sky all the choices looked to promise adventure.

The light-heartedness was soon broken. Barely an hour had passed since they had left Kupier’s farm and trouble approached in the form of a young man riding a horse.

Burrel rode the young drafthorse as fast as he dared, the urgency of his message foremost in his mind. The young, dark haired man was second son of one of the farmers just outside Milbourne. He and Da had arrived in Milbourne that morning to pick up some items at Rastifer’s. Da needed a new bit for his horses and Ma wanted some of the pickled eels that Rastifer always seemed to have on hand. Da had put the errand off as long as he could, but he had finally run out of excuses.

Milbourne was in disarray when he and Da had arrived. Someone had broke into the church two nights before and the young priest, Semheis, was missing. Garyld, the old lame carpenter had followed tracks northward to the old mines but had come back this morning with stories of an ogre working with me. With his old war injuries Garyld had said he we would need help. Thus Burrel had been drafted that morning and sent eastwards to Kupier’s farm. Everyone knew that Kupier would be helpful. Afterwards his orders were to go on to Thurmaster and try and find the mercenaries that had fought the river bandits and had negotiated with the goblins of New Mire – they could be helpful.

His mind whirling with all that he had learned, Burrel nearly rode his horse into the five riders coming westward. Two of the riders expertly moved their horses out of the way though and Burrel passed with a “Sorry!” as a hooded woman with an exotic accent yelled out “Watch where you’re going!”

Burrel was fifty yards down the road when memory caught up with reality. He pulled his horse to a stop and trotted back. “Wait up!” He called. “I have a message for you!”

The five riders pulled their own horses to a stop and let Burrel ride up. The young man sized up the riders as he approached.
There was the large man who had easily gotten out of his way who was obviously a soldier, wearing a polished, if somewhat battered, chain shirt. At his side was a sword and a shield was hanging from his left arm.
The other one that had moved her horse out of the way was a young girl. <No.> He corrected himself. <A young woman – pretty too.>. She was dressed in riding leathers and had a serviceable looking sword at her side and a crossbow secured to her saddlebags.
Behind that pair was the hooded woman. Burrel could just see a strand of white hair sticking out from under her cowl. Unconsciously the woman ran her hand up replace the stray lock of hair.
Next to her was a young man also dressed in leathers with one of those fancy swords at his side. City-folk was Burrel’s first thought and he moved onto the final rider who was bringing up the rear.
The man was an elf. Or at least a part elf, Burrel couldn’t be sure. The elf was dressed flamboyantly in leathers dyed black and he had a harp case strapped across his back. Noticing that he had an audience, the half-elf sat a little straighter and smiled easily at the young man.

“What can we do for you?” Asked the half-elf easily.

“You are the mercenaries that spoke to the goblins in New Mire and fought the bandits on the river?” Asked Burrel. He was fairly certain they were, but it was best to ask.

The soldier frowned. “I wouldn’t call us merce…” He started.

“Yes.” Said the small woman next to the soldier. “We’re the ones.”

“Then you have to come quickly!” Ker Semheis was kidnapped two days ago and Master Garyld needs help!”

Kellron leaned forward. “Tell us what happened.”

<So much for a commission.> Was the thought from at least one person

 

[Seravin]

Garlstone Mine

The Garlstone mine had been played out for over six decades. A few diehard men and dwarves had kept at picking at its depths even after the owners had pulled out, but it was barely enough to keep them fed and clothed. Old miners are forever filled with optimism about the next big strike though, especially when they pass rumors amongst themselves that so-and-so (like Old Grizzler) had struck it rich.

It wasn’t until about thirty years ago that the Carman family founded their mine much closer to Milbourne that the work for miners started to pick up again. Eventually time passed and most people forgot about the mines. Except Old Grizzler, the old dwarf’s memory was long and in the interest of more ale and a small fee of 5gp he had drawn a map of the mines for Panther almost two months ago when they had first inquired about it.

The two-page map was a rough affair. It had no scale on it and each of the many chambers of the mine was given some name or another. (“The first page,” explained Old Grizzler, “is where ye’ll be entering. The second is where the profit use to be. Don’t be mixing it up. And you won’t be finding any riches. There’s a reason why it’s abandoned after all.”)

The Flitch of Bacon, so called because of the ruddy bands in the walls that reminded the miners of their favorite breakfast food.

The Dream Cave where it was said that miners who slept there would dream of the woman they would marry (“Utter nonsense.” Muttered the old dwarf. “Old Grizzler took a nap there once, cause I was tired you know, and I never had no dreams.”).

Just beyond the Dream Cave was the Queen of Souls Pillar. The pillar looked like a collection of pipes for some majestic organ. Trickling down the multi-colored mineral column was a slow, steady drip of water. Niela, Lady of Healing, was said to watch over miners here, and if a miner spent a night praying here he would be cure of whatever ailment he had.

The Cat was so named for for a rock formation that looked like the head of a cat. (“Although in my day we called it Pargenter’s Cat. She was an outlaw that use to hide in the mines before Milbourne was properly built up.”)

The Poached Egg Chamber was just a wide spot in the tunnel with many stalactites that had formations at their tips that looked for all the world like eggs broken open.

And the Grand Cascade was a massive chamber whose north wall looked like a giant waterfall frozen in time. (“It’s from here ye’ll find a shaft that goes to the mines below. That’s where we really started to mine the good stuff.”)

-------------------------

Ashimar crept silently through the entrance tunnel that led to the Flitch of Bacon on the map. This was his second trip through and he was well warded with spells cast by Jallarzi. Invisibility was his first defense as well as a spell that granted him the vision of a dwarf.

His first foray in had shown him where the ogre was half-napping and he had found the camping gear of what at first had seemed like two small children – or halflings. He had quickly looked in on the Dream Cave and had found it empty. Wisely he had gone out to inform his friends of what he had seen and then had volunteered to come back in first again. The others would wait a slow count of thirty and then follow.

Once Ashimar was in the main cavern proper he stopped and listened. There was a snort and he heard the massive ogre move and yawn from where Ashimar had left him.
The street-rogue grimaced and padded silently towards the noise. He soon saw the ogre who was lazily scratching himself. The ogre was a massive creature standing almost nine feet tall and had to have weighed almost a half a ton. Ashimar eyed the club next to the creature warily.

<Nothing ventured…> He thought to himself as he waved his invisible hand in front of his face.

It was a quick fight. More of a slaughter really. Ashimar may have started out as a street rogue but for the last two months he had been training along side Kellron, an Imperial trained soldier from the Old School of training – where soldiers learned or they died. Ashimar was a much better fighter now. The ogre, Fulnak, on the other hand was big and he was strong and that’s all he was.

Ashimar’s first attack under invisibility had wounded the creature sorely in spite of its thick hide, but it wasn’t enough to kill it. More blows were traded after that. It wasn’t a fair trade. Ashimar still took one of the club hits in the chest but his armor absorbed some of it and he rolled away from the rest. Ashimar was still able to hit the creature two more times however and eventually felled it after he took a second glancing blow.

Kellron and the others came up as Ashimar rummaged through his pack and was pulling out a flask marked with Niela’s healing symbol. “We heard a shout.” Said Kestral.

Ashimar raised a finger as he downed the potion. “Those things have really thick hides.” He explained as he felt the rush of healing while skin and bone knit themselves together. “I couldn’t quite get it with one hit.”

Kellron hefted his sword. “We better go see who was alerted then.”

 

[Seravin]

Well - that was embarrassing - I think edited over the first post instead of replying.

That was pretty silly. It's all fixed now though. Apologies if there was any confusion.

 

[Seravin]

Further into the Mines

It was in the chamber of the Poached Egg the ambush occurred. Kellron and the rest had delayed themselves too long searching the corpse of the ogre and looking in the side chambers. That had given Tinsley and Caswell time to go get help.

Both Tinsley and Caswell were cousins and of the race of warrow, or halflings as the humans called them. While quite friendly amongst their friends and family, neither halfling thought much of humans or their ilk and were not bothered by helping a band of humans kidnap others. All they cared was that the coin was good and the job as lookout in an abandoned mine was easy.

Caswell had been close enough to hear the assault on Fulnak and had quickly crept back to warn his cousin upon witnessing the attack. Tinsley had then hurried as fast as his little legs could carry him to the mines below to warn the other mercenaries. It didn’t take long for two of the brigands to make their way up while another one went to warn the boss. Even still the two halflings and the two humans didn’t have much time to setup. They were barely in position when the light from the torches came into view.

The Cat was a huge, knobbed rock formation that in the dim, flickering light, looked very much like the head of a housecat. The stone was the same brown stone seen elsewhere in the mine, but it was further crusted over with mineral deposits.

Kellron and Ashimar were in front with Kestral and Jallarzi following and Panther was in the rear. All had their weapons out (even Jallarzi had a staff in hand) and were anxious at the least little sound. Their light was from the large, clear crystals that Kestral and Kellron wore about their necks – an enchanted, flicker flame danced in the heart of each crystal.

Panther had the map in his hands, his elven vision allowing him to read in the dim light coming around Kestral’s body. “The tunnel forks just ahead.” He whispered. “We want to go right. Watch…” The twang of crossbow strings and the whistling of bolts cut off panther’s whisper. One of the bolts shattered against Kellron’s shield but the second one clipped Ashimar low on the leg.

“Sarath!” Called out Kellron, raising his sword high. The attackers were hidden in the darkness just ahead, but that didn’t stop him from charging forward. Ashimar followed just behind. Another pair of bolts cut through the air before either of them saw their attackers; this time Kellron was just clipped while Ashimar escaped unscathed.

Before another set of bolts could be shot however, Kellron and Ashimar made it to the narrow spot in the hallway, dominated with the mineral encrusted stalactites and stalagmites. The two brigands had already determined that they didn’t have time to ready another volley and had drawn their swords, intent on using the stalagmites as cover.

Cautiously, Kestral, Jallarzi, and Panther moved forward trying to see how they could help. Against the backdrop of steel and curses up ahead, none of them heard the quiet padding of soft boots on rock, coming from the side passage they had just past.

“Take one alive!” Shouted Kestral. “Maybe we can learn something.”

One went down under Ashimar’s blade at about the same time. “Not this one.” He commented.

“Aaaahhh!”
The shriek of pain came from Jallarzi who was trailing just behind Panther and Kestral now. The half-elf sorceress was holding her side, a little stunned. Both Kestral and Panther turned and saw a grim looking halfling standing behind the woman, holding a bloodied shortsword.

Panther and Kestral reacted almost simultaneously. Panther dropped his map, pulled out an arrow and let fly with his shortbow. Despite the halfling being so close to Jallarzi, Panther hit – perhaps a testament to his elven heritage. Regardless, the halfling did not drop though he did curse.

Kestral maneuvered around her sorceress-friend and managed to flank the little backstabber. The halfling managed to lash out at Kestral as she moved around him, but his blow didn’t land hard enough to cause significant damage. Kestral used Jallarzi as a distraction however, and her return blow combined with Panther’s arrow nearly dropped the halfling.

Jallarzi took a step back and fired off a pair of magic missiles at her attacker. For a moment it looked as if the halfling was going say something. Instead he dropped to the floor, his last thoughts unheard by anyone.

There was a thud and a grunt of satisfaction from ahead of the three and they all turned to see Kellron and Ashimar standing over the crumpled form of one of the bandits.

“Let’s tie him up and question him.” Suggested Kestral.

Fifteen minutes later the five companions made their way through the huge vault known as the grand cascade. Ashimar spotted something moving along the cave’s ceiling, but it was not in their direct path so they gave it a worried eye and made their way down the dark shaft that connected to the lower levels.

Upon waking, the bandit had willingly spoken on any subject they cared to name – sadly he didn’t know as much as they wanted but he had known more than enough.

Their map of the lower mine was still good and with this defeat, the majority of the bandits were now defeated. However there were still the leaders, and the bandit spoke of them with a hushed voice. First was Shilek, a grand priestess of Tresh. Shilek was strong, powerful, and decisive and no one dared cross her.

Next was her lieutenant, Imrin. The bandit spoke of him with considerably less fear. He was a wart-nosed, grasping, bootlicker.

Finally there was Ramors, their boss. He was the leader of the mercenaries and it was his decision to work for Shilek. He was strong and fast and it was the bandit’s opinion that the little group didn’t stand a chance.

Viewing their captive tied up on the floor before them, the group didn’t think much of his opinion. Instead after a short lecture on the deserved fruits of evils from Kellron and Ashimar, the group promised to come back for him when they were done.

It was only well after they were gone that a small dark shadow crept out from the side tunnel.

 

[Seravin]

The Fight in the Mines
Later, when asked about his adventures, Panther would recite what he and has companions had seen.

The Blue Garl Cavern – where the largest and finest garlstones had been mined. Even played out, there was still a glimmer of blue crystal here and there about the cavern walls.
In the back, was an adjoining cave that was now flooded. A giant moray eel lived in these black waters. Kellron had very nearly been pulled under, but it had been a tough fight.

The Dome – Another vault of a cave now flooded. In the center of the flooded cave was a pillar that looked like some gigantic mace. Kestral’s keen eyes were the first to spot the body floating in the water, just barely in sight. Using the powers granted to her by the Lords of Water, she had walked across the surface to retrieve the body. Along the way she had been attacked by crayfish the size of a small pony. Fortunately Kestral was quick and was only wounded a little bit before she drew the giant lobsters into range of her friend’s missile fire. The body turned out to be the body of some unknown mage who had been infected with some wasting disease.

Fairy Land – The walls of this cave were filled with such colors that it was easy to see why the dwarfs spent their time under so much rock. The hues were vibrant and many. The stories say that the miners could sometime hear the faeries carving their way up from below.

The Crab Petals – A cave that looked like the inside of a massive geode. White, spiky protrusion grew from the walls, looking like crab claws. Lairing within were two
insects the size of bull-mastiffs. They shot a curiously strong line out to capture prey and drag them near. These things had manage to ensnare Ashimar with one such line, but the young bravo had charged the creature instead. The fight was only mildly interesting.

These were the names on the map drawn by Old Grizzler the dwarf.

The five companions now stood in the Chamber of the All-Hearing Gods, a glorious name given to a rather non-descript chamber. The miners thought that things whispered here would travel to Latina herself. Panther thought that the miners had been underground too long. In the end the only thing of interest about the chamber was the tunnel leading out the far side. According to their map it wound through about forty feet of rock and opened into a cave called The Grand Cavern.

At the mouth of this tunnel had been four guards, wearing dark robes with the hoods up and standing as still as statues. They had turned out to be zombies, created from the bodies of some unknown mercenaries. The five friends had easily laid the animated corpses to rest.

-------------

Kestral had been gone a long minute. Her companions viewed her return with relief.
“They’re there.” She told her friends. “Just as he described.” Kestral continued on before anyone could smile. “Except there’s another person with them; another of the mercenary flunkies I think. They know were here.”

“Crap.”
Kellron looked at Kestral. “Think we can take them?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

It took the five friends a few minutes to come up with a plan. It wasn’t elegant but it would have to serve.

Later when asked, Panther was able recount only this about the fight.

“It was a long fight. I recall that much at least, even two years later. We were all pretty proficient; Jallarzi even knew the spells for invisibility back then; but our foes were stronger. Shilek invoked a prayer at some point and I think she managed to paralyze Kellron at some point – but I’m not so sure about that anymore. It probably didn’t happen else we certainly would have died.

Ashimar was the first to engage Ramor, the brigand leader. Of that I am sure for Ashimar heard Ramor speak magic words that activated magical boots of speed. Kellron had to have helped in that fight though. Ramor was a fast brute and used an enchanted bastardsword.

The two priests, Shilek and Imrin were protected by six zombies. Things got tight because of them. It certainly seemed like more at the time. They just kept coming and we couldn’t get any room to catch our breath. I think Kellron might have scared them off. Maybe not.

When we got too close to Shilek she levitated up near the ceiling with her own magic boots.

At the end of it though, we were still standing and our foes weren’t. Except Ivrin. He got away in the darkness; probably by using one of those darkvision potions we found.”

Here Panther would smile a bit. “But the treasure and the glory were fantastic. That’s where they got the magic hut you sometimes hear about. Ashimar claimed Ramor’s boots for his own and Kestral claimed Shilek’s boots. For herself Jallarzi claimed an enchanted staff that was the embodiment of winter; I often think that was the start of her obsession. For myself, I claimed Ramor’s magic bow. There was no history behind it that I could find, but it was my first magic weapon.

We also found another cache of fish-smelling potions, something I think Shilek was feeding Ramor. And a key. I mustn't forget that we found a second key that very nearly matched the one we had gotten from Broken Spire.

Unfortunately we didn't find Semheis, the reason we had gone into those mines and we were too wounded to follow that damn priest. We decided to leave and come back another time.

Ah well. Memory isn’t always reliable and there are certainly many other things I do remember.”