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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Helfdan" data-source="post: 1089858" data-attributes="member: 11732">Chapter 7Part 7: Girion’s Homecoming    My father:  I again find a brief respite to write you of our fateful journey into Roedran.  I do not know whether these missives reach you, and I oft think it would be better that they did not, given their grim content.  But I continue to write, and imagine how you would react to my questions and concerns.  I hope that if you ever read them, you are not disappointed in your son.      I last wrote of how, at our return to Medore, we met Jerikas and Nikolas Ran, twin brothers and priests of Terferos, Caretaker of Souls.  They requested our help on a noble quest: to retrieve from orcish bandits the legendary Goathian Bell, Medore’s only hope against an impending invasion by the undead hordes of the demon-god Simarul.  The bandits took the bell south into fallen Roedran, the homeland of my friend Girion Aleis.      We knew well the tale of Roedran’s fall.  This southern province was once the hunting grounds of the native Samusian nobles, before the arrival of the Hintaneese.  It was a fertile land, where woodland and game abounded.  The descendants of those Hintaneese conquerors quickly grew to love this land, and learned much of the Samusian wood lore.  The scouts and woodsmen from Roedran were thus considered the finest in the empire (I have no reason to doubt this if Girion’s skills are typical).  But the Kundrians invaded in a dramatic surprise attack (and rumors still circulate of some form of betrayal), and burned the city itself to the ground.  Many of its inhabitants, unable to escape, were butchered or taken as slaves.  It fell to our former commander, Erecos, to deal with this invasion.  But instead of liberating the area, the ever pragmatic – and ruthless – general isolated it, and pounded the cities and enemy camps with siege engines, until the barony was devastated.  Now the only inhabitants were the remnants of the Kundrian forces, who lived by brigandry.  Rumor had it that these brigands were still led by Koron, the commander of the Kundrian invasion.  His name was still spoken with hatred and fear by the victorious Hintaneese, for this mighty ogre was known to cleave men in twain with his enormous war-axe.  Ant the brothers’ Ran tale gave credence to these rumors.      As the wizard Morbazzan had returned to Medore, our company now numbered seven: Girion, Landotharan, Baruk, Segnarus, Jerikas, Nikolas, and myself.  The ranger led us unerringly, if somewhat slowly, as dense vegetation overgrowth had accumulated on the untended southern road.  As we rode, Girion told us that manticores were not the only beasts to be feared in these lands.  Legend had it that Nuthon, Lord of Savagery and Madness, once fathered a great beast, named Mantaros.  This fell monster ravaged the lands until it was slain by a group of unremembered heroes.  But its evil was never fully extinguished, for wherever its blood touched the soil, all manner of aberrant beasts and monsters were spawned.      It was mid-morning when we came within sight of a large stone arch in the distance.  Girion surmised this was the Northeastern Gate, one of the ancient gatehouses guarding the roads into the barony.  Though we were almost one-half mile away, the ranger’s keen eyes spied a figure standing motionlessly on the arch.  Girion and Segnarus dismounted, and stealthily moved through the brush to scout ahead.      After a few tense minutes, our comrades appeared at the foot of the arch and beckoned to us.  As we approached, I could see the gatehouse was at least fifty feet high.  It straddled the road, and once had a large iron gate, which now lies as a rusted ruin.  Its battlements and walls were severely battered and scorched.  We arrived to see Girion conversing with a slight figure robed in gray.  She proved to be a woman, and a beauteous one at that:  alabaster skin, short-cropped brown hair, and predatory blue eyes that could have belonged to a hawk.  The ranger introduced her as Denora, one of the Mestorien.  This mysterious group worships nature itself, following an ancient Samusian tradition.      As I introduced myself to the damsel, she looked at me strangely.  Then, reaching into her pack, produced a mithral horseshoe identical to the one Sen Beldazar had given me!  She stated that she could help me find “what I seek” if only we would perform a simple quest, one “of no consequence” to us.  As you would expect, father, I replied that if she needed my help it needed not be requited.      She promptly explained that there were several different bands of goblinoids in this land, as Koron’s army soon disintegrated under Erecos’s punishing tactics.  One of these apparently posed a threat to the Mestoriens’ plans (which she would not elaborate on).  It was led by an arcanist of considerable skill, named Berooz.  He had control of the old city of Roedran, and the Mestorien had been unable to drive him out despite their best efforts.  Her request was simple: “dispose of him by any means, as this will restore the balance to these lands.”      I was reminded of my previous oath when the brothers Ran expressed concern regarding any delays on our quest for the Goathian Bell.  Denora pleaded her case, stating that the goblinoids were many and would pose a danger to us as well.  As a sign of her good will, she told us where to find Koron:  at the baronial demesne itself.  After a brief discussion, we agreed to her request (although Nikolas was sent against it, his brother persuaded him it would be a worthy deed, and he relented).  As we readied to set forth, Denora approached, and gave me the horseshoe.  I could not help but asking her what she meant, about my “seeking” something.  She smiled, somehow alluringly and aloofly at once, and answered, “You will know what you seek once you find it…”  It was noon by the time we rode southwest towards the ruined city.  Girion pulled his steed back alongside mine, smiling mirthlessly.  “Do not be too taken with her, my friend,” he said.  “I have met her before, years ago.”      “As children?” I asked, for she looked younger than us all.      “No, Kalten.  When I was a child, she was fully grown – already a mestorien.  I always thought she was my father’s leman, though he was discreet in such matters.”      The conversation predictably died quickly after that.  This situation grew increasingly complicated, father.  But we soon turned our minds to tactical matters.  As the city was surrounded by open savannah, it was useless to attempt a stealthy approach.  It took less than an hour to reach the outskirts of the city.  The dirt road became an ill-kept cobblestoned street.  The city was completely ruined: a desolate landscape, with few buildings left standing, and the stench of death weighing heavily.  We came to full alert when the ranger announced he heard some sort of whistled signal.      Eventually we came to an ideal ambush site: a dilapidated building on our left, and thick shrubbery on our right.  And we were not disappointed, when several hobgoblins armed with long swords raced at us, three from the left and four from the right.  Lando reacted first, riding to the right as he freed his greatsword.  But learning from previous experience, the half-elf reined in before reaching them, and dismounted to face their charge.  As I heard Baruk gruffly chanting a spell, I spurred Stepper to the left, and sorely wounded one of the hobgobs with my lance.  Girion charged beside me, assailing another foe with the Blessed Sword of Tears.  The brothers Ran waved morningstars as they followed Landotharan into combat.      As the spear-wounded foe slashed at Steppers flank, four more foes appeared on the building’s roof, hurling vials of a tar-like substance, splashing both Girion and me.  I could see one of them light a torch, but could not ignore my immediate foes.  Stepper reared, and crushed his assailant with hooves and gnashing teeth.  I drew Aerbrand, calling on Morcandor’s might for this battle.  Even in the heat of combat, father, It seemed to me that water was beading on its silvery blade, as if it were ice cold!  That had never before happened, but I could pay it no heed at the time.      Beside me Girion fought bravely, killing another foe with Renmemnion.  Baruk hurled balls of eldritch light at the torchbearer on the roof, but though wounded, the humanoid managed to light its comrades’ arrows.  The archers laughed as they released, and wherever an arrow hit the tar-like substance, it burned fiercely.  My bay stallion reared and snorted in fear and fury as one arrow struck a puddle next to us, and another grazed my shoulder, lighting me on fire!  The pain was indescribable, but at that moment another hobgob, larger than the rest, ran out of the building, its wickedly-curved sword poised to smite at Jerikas’s back as the priest fought another humanoid.      Ignoring the pain, I charged at the monster.  It heard my charge and turned just in time for Aerbrand to smash into its face, cleaving and freezing at once!  The foes on the ground were all accounted for, and I could see Lando and Girion rolling on the ground to extinguish the flames.  The brothers Ran readied crossbows to fire at the rooftop assailants, as Baruk hurled more magical missiles.  This time the torch-bearer toppled from the roof, dead.  But the four archers continued to punish us with their shafts.  As my allies readied their bows, I leapt from Stepper’s back (and thank Tilsman, the flames burned out by then), and raced into the building, but not before two more arrows hit me – one in the left thigh, another glancing from my shoulder guard.  The ground floor was empty, but a ladder led to a trap door on the roof.  I climbed as fast as I could (again I appreciate the wondrous qualities of my new armor!)  and emerged to face the archers.  Two of them dropped their bows and assailed me with longswords.  Iolanthes must have been with me, for I met their charge, and with two quick, overhand strokes, dispatched both foes.  I leapt at the last two, cutting one down while it reached for its sword.  As the last one scrambled away, an arrow and a quarrel slammed simultaneously into its back.  I looked down to see Girion and Segnarus smile as they lowered their weapons.  It was a simple matter for the twin priests of Terferos to heal our wounds, and soon we were riding deeper into the ruined city.  Most of the group were silently discussing the fact that we had never fought a mage before.  Morbazzan’s help would have been useful, but Baruk briefly dispensed some advice in his gruff dwarven accent, recommending we spread out thinly to avoid something he referred to as ‘area effects.’  I must admit I was more concerned with Aerbrand.  Though the hilt felt normal to me, it had definitely been cold enough to harm my foes.  I begin to see there is more than one reason why it is known as “The Winter’s Blessing.”  I thank you for this gift, father.  Soon we came to the town center, where two large stone buildings remained – the town hall on our left, and a tall tower on our right.  As we reined in our horses, a scrawny goblin walked out onto the road.  He spoke authoritatively: “Halt, warriors!  Do not advance.  The master does not wish to struggle with you, as he bears you no ill will.”  Amazed at such loqaciousness from a goblin, I asked that his master come out to parley.  “Very well,” he replied, and stepped back into the town hall.  Soon he returned accompanied by two massive, hairy goblinoids (known as ‘bugbears’ in these parts) and a spindly, white-bearded goblin clad in ragged robes.  The bearded goblin – presumably Berooz – asked what we wanted.  I was still hopeful to avoid further bloodshed, and stated that should he leave Roedran forever, no further hostilities would be necessary.  He laughed, and stated he knew we had slain both his wolf-riders and his ambushers.  The goblin said it wished to kill us, but he was willing to “show mercy” and let us live – if we brought him Koron’s head as tribute!  Girion could not stomach this, and shouted:  “We WILL bring you his head, to set it on a pike beside your own!"  The goblin growled, and answered, “Then perhaps our might will prevail when words did not.”  At this, several hobgoblins approached us from the ruined side streets to our right.  The swarthy thief-catcher fired his crossbow, planting a bolt in Berooz’s shoulder.  To our shock, the warlock pulled the shaft out, and laughed as it licked the blood off, and threw it to the ground!  Landotharan spurred his chestnut past me in a desperate charge.  He was pummeled by two thrown vials, but to our horror, their contents exploded into flames as soon as the containers shattered.  Screaming with pain, the half-elf managed to wound the warlock’s goblin herald with his blade.  As Jerikas and Nikolas prayed for Terferos to aid us in this battle, Girion called upon Syllisia of the forests, and the weeds, grasses and vines in a large area around the ruined tower came alive, entangling our erstwhile ambushers.  He then spurred his horse beside me as I rode to join Landotharan.  Before we could reach him, Berooz spoke arcane words, and asked Lando to protect it from us… “to the end.”  Girion reached the bugbears first on his faster steed.  One of the beasts assailed him with a large spiked club, drawing sparks from the ranger’s enchanted mailshirt.  The herald nimbly tumbled under Girion’s horse, attempting to flank him.  I then reached the ranger’s side, wounding one of the bugbears with my lance.  To my surprise, Lando then proved to be ensorceled by Berooz, for he dismounted, and tried to wrest the lance from me!  I released the lance, and drew Aerbrand as Girion wielded Renmemnion fiercely, finishing both the wounded bugbear and the scrawny herald in seconds.  As the ranger engaged the second bugbear, I rode at Berooz.  Lando actually attacked me with his sword as I rode past, the impact of his heavy sword reaching me through shield and armor.  Stepper flailed at the warlock with his hooves, looking confused.  When I brought Aerbrand to bear, its keen edge met no resistance – and I realized it was naught but a sorcerous illusion!  I turned to warn my friends, only to see Lando had now assailed Girion, using his greatsword to smash the Blessed Sword of Tears from the ranger’s grasp.  As I rode back to help, Girion freed a quarterstaff from his saddle strap, and skillfully used it, even from horseback, to keep both bugbear and half-elf at bay.  As I reached them, I heard Berooz’s voice over the melee, and a vast, sticky web appeared from thin air, attempting to entangle us all.  Lando was instantly immobilized (thanks be to Tilsman, as we did not wish to hurt him).  Stepper forced his way close to the bugbear.  As it was reeling from a brace of the dwarf’s magical missiles, I brought Aerbrand down on its skull, finishing it.  But I would be of no further use in that battle, father, for Stepper and I soon became as entangled as Lando.  It was all I could do to try and turn my neck, to see how my companions fared.  Seeing that Girion, leaping from the saddle, had escaped the eldritch web and was circling its edge to the south, I turned to my right, to witness tragedy.  I saw Berooz standing on the tower, raining spells down on us.  Segnarusand the brothers Ran were fighting three hobgobs that had broken free of Girion’s grasping vegetation.  Suddenly, Nikolas stopped moving, paralyzed by the goblin’s spells.  Before Segnarus could aid him, the closest hobgoblin wasted no time in slitting his throat ear-to-ear.  I screamed in rage, but could do nothing but struggle against the eldritch cords that held me.  Jerikas sobbed as he forced his way out of the magical web.  One of the escaping hobgoblins then fell to Baruk’s eldritch missiles.  But again the goblin chanted, and this time it was the wiry thief-catcher who could no longer move.  The closest hobgoblin grinned, and dealt brave Segnarus the same death it had given to Nikolas.  As Baruk shouted furiously, Berooz laughed, asking us to surrender.  The dwarf growled, “Here’s my answer, dog!” and sent an arrow of eldritch acid to smash into the goblin’s chest.  It threw itself to the ground just in time to avoid a grey-goose shaft from Girion’s bow.  Seeing that only two of its minions remained, the goblin shouted, “Do not think you have seen the last of me!” and to our amazement, soared into the sky like a bird, rapidly retreating.  The bearded ranger plied his mighty bow, scoring him twice with arrows, but the goblin whistood the wounds and disappeared into the horizon.  The rest of the battle was swift.  Jerikas grabbed one of the hobgoblins by the throat, and literally drew its black soul out through its mouth, sending it to Terferos.  The final foe (and it turns out, the one who killed both our friends when they were helpless) surrendered.  Once the eldritch web disappeared, we quickly interrogated it.  It told us that though we had slain most of their group, we should not doubt his master would return with reinforcements.  Landotharan then swiftly executed the prisoner, and for once I could not bring myself to argue, father.  My shame was great.  I had advocated this course of action, which cost the lives of our good friend, Segnarus.  But somehow worse is the fact that Nikolas, who clearly opposed this delay, fell.  And the goblin warlock had escaped.  Jerikas was understandably furious, and silent, as we slowly rode back to Denora with the news.  The beauteous Mestorien was not disappointed, to our surprise.  She felt that by destroying the warlock’s forces we had crippled its ambitions, and “the balance” could now be restored.  She offered sympathy for our losses, but also gave us hope: as apparently it is within her power to bring back the dead!  Her only warning was that our friends would not return exactly as we knew them.  I was unsure as to what she meant, until Jerikas interrupted angrily.  “You will NOT perform such a ritual for my brother!  His soul rests with Terferos now.  His troubles are over.”  Tears again welled in the priest’s eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.  “And I must further warn you, friends.  She intends to bring Segnarus’s spirit back from the Caretaker’s hands, and but it in the body of some woodland creature.  Be wary!  Would Segnarus want this?  And even if he should, know that if he returns thus, my prayers will not be able to help him in any way.”   He then went to pray over his brother.  We quietly decided we would not set out for the baronial demesne until the next morning, so that we could recover from the day’s grim events.  As I tended to my horse, arms, and armor, I again prayed for brave Nikolas’s soul, and lamented my part in his death.  There was but one course of action left to me.  I silently swore, father, before Tilsman, Judge of Judges, to recover the Goathian Bell, or die in the attempt.  Little did I know what further sorrow this quest would bring.  Oh, how much I miss your advice.  My only comfort is that I know I have your blessing.</blockquote>

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