Gryph the will-o’-wisp flew high about Greyhawk. The air was cold and clean. He darted amidst clouds and flew past startled birds. He turned invisible and lowered into the Valley of the Mattadin.
The Valley, set in the mountains, is fed by hot springs. It’s a small, pleasant oasis of warmth set in a harsh surrounding of stone and ice. In the valley the hot springs bubble up and feed the lush green growth. The springs are heated by the Uffatos volcanic range at the north end of the valley. When snow or ice falls within the valley, it doesn’t stay on the ground long. Moisture evaporates and meets with the cold air of the surrounding frigid mountains. This creates, nightly, a dense blanket of fog that fills the valley to its brim, like a swirling sea of white mist.
It was still morning, and the mist filled the valley’s bowl in the growing light of day. Gryph plunged down into it. The fog was beginning to evaporate, and he could see trees rising up out of the white as he flew onward. The landscape passed beneath him. Trees and hills came at him out of the mist and disappeared behind him like silent ghosts.
After a time, he found Hyia’s ranch. It was a sprawling across a snow draped plateau just beyond the forest. There was a fence to keep animals penned in, but no animals. No people could be seen, either. Gryph floated through the buildings on the ranch grounds. Everywhere, there was evidence of a struggle. No bodies, cattle, or supplies remained. What was odd was that there were things missing that no fire giant might make use of… the greenhouse was smashed, and certain botanical instruments seemed taken, judging from the shapes left in the dust of the tables there. Crates marked “fertilizer” had been smashed open and liberated of their fifty-pound sacks.
Outside, he found a recently dug grave under an oak tree. It had a simple headstone, bearing a legend in elvish:
Oshat the Kind. Rest in Peace.
The sun had chased the fog away, and the valley was now draped in a thin mist that only obscured hills and trees in the distance. Gryph felt he had explored the ranch as best he could, so he flew back to the castle. He floated in through a window and bobbed through the halls until he found the group in the mess hall. Grumbar was eating another roasted pig. “I’m back. How’s breakfast, Grumbar?”
“It’s alright, I guess,” the fighter moped. Without honey, the cooks hadn’t been able to give the pig the sweet honey glaze that made their roast pig so tempting to half-orcs. He picked at it with a pouty expression.
Jarl approached Gryph. “What did you find?”
“Hyiadramain is indeed gone. Her ranch has been invaded and looted of goods. There’s a grave outside for someone named ‘Oshat’.”
The dwarf stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Hmm. He was the groundskeeper at the ranch… and was alive, when last we heard. If he died in the raid and has a grave, that means someone survived to bury him. Was there anyone there?”
“The ranch was entirely deserted.”
“Strange. Well, I’ve done all I can do, here. We’ve destroyed all the mead and honey we’ve taken from the traders. I expect we should have no desertions tonight. My men will be working all day to repair the drawbridge, but at least tonight we should be safe. I thank you. We may not be able to hold out until spring, but now we’ll be able to give them a better fight.”
“We’re going to help you, as best we can,” Kizzlorn said. The dwarf’s surprised reaction made her smile. “We’re here to find a possible evil-doer… and we don’t have a precise location. There is most definitely something wicked afoot in the Valley of the Mattadin, and we mean to investigate. It may be just what we’re looking for. At any rate, we’ll have helped a group of friends in need.”
Jarl grinned and shook Kizz’s hand. “Thank you. With your help, we just might make it.”
“Certainly.” She turned to the others. “Knights- suit up. There are only so many hours of daylight, until the fog returns. We ride.”
The Knights set out into the daylight. They walked north, over a broad line of stony foothills that provided the wall that welled in the fog. They crested the top, and looked down into the valley. They compared it to a map Jarl had drawn up for them.
“According to this,” Kizz said, “We’ll be passing through a forest before we reach the valley floor, called Darken Forest. Should be about half a day’s walk.” They descended to the forest, and passed into the trees.
Despite its name, Darken Forest was actually a fairly stretch patch of woods to walk through. The canopy overhead was very dense, and cast shadows about the forest floor, which must have given the wood its name. Shafts of sunlight pierced the gloom here and there, and lit the mist, creating a lucent warm haze that gave the woods a heavenly feeling. The heavy foliage muffled all sound, and there was little to be heard. The eerie silence and beautiful scenery gave their walk a surreal feeling.
Gryph was scouting ahead, invisible again. He stopped when he heard the sounds of distant crashing coming through the underbrush from the north. It was getting louder. Far ahead, he saw the canopy shudder as something immense pushed a tree over. Snow and sunlight swirled about.
Much closer, something exploded from the shrubbery. Two elf maids were running with wild, frightened eyes. They ran straight past the invisible will-o’-wisp and saw the other Knights coming up the path. “RUN! RUN! THE JIRROCK ARE COMING!” they yelled. Heavy footsteps thrummed to the north, and soon, the giants burst into view. Five dark-skinned giants with fiery red hair and beards, wielding huge swords.
They stopped short of their chase when Gryph turned visible before them, laughing. In the space of three seconds, a remarkable change came over him. Gryph’s will-o’-wisp form grew bigger, darker, and deep red. Scales formed and multiplied as he grew. Orange spines erupted all around the large scaled sphere in lines, like dominoes falling upwards. Pale, membranous wings unfolded and thickened, then beat the air. The thing kept growing. The winged red sphere uncurled into a tail, neck, and four clawed legs. Gryph was now a red dragon, as long as the giants were tall, and wickedly ferocious. He roared, and a cloud of flame boiled out at the Jirrock attackers.
The distraction proved enough to stop the giants from pursuing the elves any further. They attacked the dragon. The other Knights ran forward to join the fray. Shade ran forward with incredible speed, and began slashing and hacking at Jirrock legs. Gryph roared and ripped chunks out of one Jirrock with his claws, wings, and teeth. The giant swung at him, and clipped him in the upper chest. Gryph reeled, but his huge wings kept him aloft.
Grumbar, far back, was still running forward, huffing and puffing. His half-orc legs carried him only so fast. He hoped there would still be some giant left for him by the time he got to the battle.
Kizzlorn cast a spell. She cast it so quickly, though, that she didn’t consider the consequences of her choice of spell.
Ice Storm froze the giants’ area, then smashed them with ice and wind. The fire giants were hurt badly by the attack… as was Gryph. As a red dragon, he shared the vulnerability to cold that all creatures of flame and embers suffer. The freezing temperatures whipped at him horribly, and he screamed.
Jo’nas destroyed a giant with a spell. Shade killed another. Gryph took his fury at being caught in an
Ice Storm out on the giants, and killed two within the space of six seconds. The giants fell to the forest floor in an immense bloody heap, and smoldered there.
“Almost there… almost there…” Grumbar huffed to himself as he ran. He arrived at the last remaining giant, and drew back his sword to strike. Before he could, though, several blasts of colored light shot over his head and rocketed into the giant’s chest. He fell back, dead. Grumbar looked down sadly on the remains of the giants he had been too slow to kill.
Gryph whirled around. “Sorceress!” the dragon cried in a voice that was both screeching and thunderous at once. “You will watch how you cast your spells. I will not be killed in battle by a partymate for a senseless error such as that!” He landed on the floor and Jo’nas began healing him. Between the
Ice Storm and the damage he’d taken from the giants, he was very badly hurt.
Kizzlorn was never a soft woman, to take reproach gently. She grew angry and growled her response. “If you perhaps cared to not PUT yourself where my spells would do the most damage to the enemy, I wouldn’t have to hit you with them as well. What do you think of THAT?”
The dragon growled back. “I think you know you erred, and are merely defending yourself. Don’t do it again.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
The uncomfortable tension was relieved when the two elf women returned from the woods, and thanked the group for saving them from the Jirrock attack. “I am Taso,” one said.
“And I am Innikit,” the other finished. The two looked almost exactly alike, now that the Knights had time to study them.
Jo’nas finished healing Gryph and wandered over to greet them. “Are you two related?”
“Sisters,” they both answered.
“What are you doing out here?”
“We might ask you the same,” Taso said. “Might I trouble you for healing as well, good priest of Fharlanghn?” Blood seeped from a wound on her side. The cleric helped, cordially. “We were returning from our parents’ house, farther north. We were druids living at Hyiadramain’s ranch, which is just a few miles from here. We were attacked. Only the two of us escaped.”
“You returned to bury Oshat,” Gryph added for them. They looked at the dragon in surpise. They were quite nervous to even be in its presence, much less to find that it knew pieces of their tale.
“Uh, yes. We then fled far to the north to see if our parents were in danger. We did not find them, and waited for their return. They did not come home. We left the house and tried to reach the castle to the south of the valley, and nearly perished several times to traps, old nemeses, and Jirrock foot patrols.”
Innikit added “We don’t know where they took Hyia, or her supplies and cattle. I’m betting they were taken to the Jirrock war camp that has been established at the valley bottleneck. We haven’t the strength to go and rescue her, though. Otherwise we would have.” The girl looked near tears. “We can’t even seem to locate our parents.”
“You are only two,” Shade said gently. “We’re a good number greater, and… well… kinda powerful, if ye take my meanin’. We’re travelin’ north. If we find any clue to their whereabouts- Hyia or yer parents, we’ll try to rescue them at once and send them south to the castle.”
“Would you?” Taso asked. “We’d be so thankful. We’d gladly do it all ourselves, but… we’re merely lowly druids. Peace-loving people with a love of things that grow.”
“We will keep an eye out for them,” Kizzlorn said. “We mean to put an end to this Jirrock threat, at least. We will bring your peace back to the valley.”
“Thanks and blessings,” the girls said. They were given some supplies and a potion or two, and were sent over the foothills to the south, to the safety of the castle.
The Knights of Spellforge Keep emerged from Darken Forest to the grassy lowlands of the Valley of the Mattadin. The sun shone down coldly on them. They walked on, to the north.
NEXT: Thunder and Fire
