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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lars Frehse" data-source="post: 803674" data-attributes="member: 1674">A short respite- part 1The friends took the horses of their enemies and the full plate armors from the priest and Colonel Gihjan and put them into their bag of holding. This, however, forced them to spill out a small mount of copperpieces which they had looted from Marilvaz's tomb. As he saw the heap, Torn had an idea.He turned to the two remaining soldiers who they intended to send home to Lageni on foot:"Do you want those coins?"One of them answered:" Well, sure, sir!"."Good then. You can fill up your saddlebags and carry as many coins home as you can.", he told them.The soldiers were stunned with surprise. On one evening they had been ambushed and faced certain death, and no the same ones who had almost ended their lives were heaping coins on them. However, none of the two wanted to waste too much time questioning the motives of their benefactors and each of them filled up a pair of saddlebags each, which they carried heavily on their shoulder as they slowly walked back along the banks until they turned around a bend and were gone."This should slow them down", Torn explained to his puzzled friends "with that kind of weight, we should be already close to the Veshian border by the time they reach the next Lagenian fortress to report what had happened.".Torn was right. For whatever reason, they didn't encounter any further opposition on their way north and wouldn't it have been for the depressing sight of the Blood Steppes beyond the river, it could have even been called pleasant. At last they had left Lageni behind, none of them too keen on returning there anytime soon, and the weather gently switched to that of a pleasant indian summer.Eventually, they reached Trela. The river looked as peaceful as ever, and they were greeted warmly by the farmers. They were told that unlike the bad weather they had experienced in Lageni, it had been unusually dry here, and that at times the farmers had trouble to bring their crops through the drought. Hearing that, Ben cursed heartily that they had to spend the best part of the summer in the rain, and then they had to deal with another problem: and that was which route they would take to come back to Vesh.Lacking boats big enough to carry all their horses, they had the alternatives of either circling around Denev's aquifier on it's eastern bank and then going through the blood marshes or taking the western routes and entering Vesh via Ontenazu. The mountains of the western route were notorious for it's deadly winds, which were strong enough to smash unwary travellers to death against the rock walls. But there were scouts who knew the winds and who would guide them.Still, they decided to take the eastern route. Especially Ben wasn't ready to lay his life in the hands of strangers, and he rather wanted to brave the swamps, where at least he would have his fate in his own hands. In this, Trepat and Torn, who were both rather relying on themselves then on anyone else, supported him, and even though Jan and Niklas would have liked to get to know the mysterious lands of Ontenazu, they accepted the decision of their friends.After resting and relaxing for the day, and hearing that some months ago, a priest of Belsameth had inquired about the death of his fellow priest at the hands of the group, they continued their journey in the early next morning. The whole time they kept the Kelders to their right, and for the first three days, in which they had covered about half the way, the sun kept shining. Then, on the third night, the weather changed. It got colder, the wind picked up, blowing down from the mountain, and during the midnight watch, it started raining as well. First, single fat drops fell down only to soon turn into an outright downpour.It looked as if the sky had held back it's waters only to pour them down on the friends again, and Ben reacted accordingly in the morning. For the whole day, he kept on cursing the heavens and their bad luck that seemingly lead them to travel from one patch of bad weather to the next.At nights, they were still damp, and their animals and themselves never got really dry, since the rain kept on, and in their tents at night, their wet, damp smell was almost unbearable. On the third day of the constant rain, there was hardly any dry land left, and they had to lead their horses over the rock of the foot of a giant mountain when they saw before them the wet marshlands of the swamps. Most of the lands were at least covered with puddles of water, and the hills that raised above the wet plains looked like islands in a lake.Then, suddenly their steeds became nervous, and Trepat heard a distant rumble coming from behind. Immediately he knew what was causing this, and he shouted:" Avalanche! Quick! To the nearest hill!". And really, now that he had shouted it, they heard the distant rumbling too, slowly growing in volume until it drowned out all other noises, like those of the rain drumming down and their feet and hooves running through the mud.They all headed for the nearest hill and they were whipped by the wind and the rain as they now felt the very earth tremble under them as well. Then, as they struggled up the side of the hill, running and grabbing for sticks and stone, hopefully elevating them above the flood of mud and, they saw it in the faint light of the darkened day: Behind them, as high as one of the higher houses of Mithril, the elements were rushing towards them. A brown muddy whirling mass of water full of rocks and all kind of vegetation from brushes to full trees came whirling, seemingly growing as it came closer and closer.Niklas, who had helped the animals and his lagging friends was last, and in the last second he jumped up to get on the safe harbor of the top of the hill- but he was too late. Suddenly he felt how his legs were torn away under him and in an instant, he was taken away. All around him, there was the chaotic, thundering flood and he had completely lost all orientation, not even able anymore to tell up from down.Then, he was knocked against something hard, and instinctively, he grabbed for it. Clinging tight, as the mud and the water streamed around him, he slowly regained his orientation, and then, gratefully he had succeeded in raising his head over the water. He saw that he was clinging to a ragged old tree, and as he pulled himself into the crown, which raised over the rushing masses under him, he shouted for health.Trepat was the first to saw him some fifty yards away from the hill. Like his friends, he had been saved from the flood by his raised position. Oblivious to the rain, he whipped out his scroll of fly, and cast the spell on it. Now, that he was able to fly, he raised above the flood and moved over to where Niklas was clinging on to the tree for his very life.He reached the monk and grabbed for him, but he wasn't strong enough to lift the burly human. "Hold on a little longer!", he shouted over the deafening roar of the raging elements. He flew up a few yards, and as Niklas felt the tremor of something huge and heavy hitting the tree somewhere under the muddy surface, Trepat used his wand of bullstrength on himself. Now he sank down again, and as the tree was slowly bending over, finally giving in to the stream of mud around it, Trepat had him. Somewhere, on the hill, Jan was praying to Corean for the rescue of his brother and now the elf suceeded in lifting Niklas over the water.Sluggishly, they moved over the water, and the strain of Niklas' weight strained Trepat's arm, and he felt a burning pain in his shoulderjoint, as if his arm was about to be torn out of it's socket, but then they were over the comparatively dry land of their island, and they both dropped to the muddy ground. They were wet, dirty and exhausted, but at least they were alive.</blockquote>

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