Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
I was finally able to get caught up with your story, after being away for the past 2 weeks.
Amazing story Jon, keep up the great work.
Amazing story Jon, keep up the great work.
-
NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
- Thread starter Jon Potter
- Start date
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #256] Epilogue at the Caves of Chaos
Windstryder moved toward Ledare first, placing her bow beside the unmoving Janissary and drawing out her healer's satchel. She looked earnestly into the half-elf's eyes as she fumbled within her bag for the proper herb.
"Can you breath, Ledare?" the ranger asked. "Blink if you understand me." Of course, being paralyzed, Ledare could do no such thing. Windstryder frowned and placed her ear to Ledare's breastplate but could hear nothing through the heavy armor. She then pressed close to the Janissary's mouth and felt the faint tickle of breath against her ear. She popped a dark bit of fungus in her mouth and began vigorously chewing it into a soft paste. She then eased Ledare onto her back and hunched over the woman.
"Uh, Windstryder?" Ixin called. She was bent over Morier, and the expression on her face plainly showed that the sorcerer's assessment of the albino's health was not encouraging. "I don't think Morier's going to make it!"
The ranger held up a hand a gave the gesture for 'hold position and wait' then she hunched over her current patient. She pressed her lips firmly over the Janissary's mouth and drooled the masticated herb onto Ledare's tongue before straightening up and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. She grinned down at the paralyzed Ledare.
"Hah, hah," she chuckled, her laughter sounding very out-of-place given their surroundings. "Lord Janissary, we call that the healer's kiss. Not a pretty gesture, I know, but necessary under the circumstances."
"OOOH! I can help Morier!" Vade exclaimed as he trotted to the fallen warrior's side. He began rifling through the elf's belongings, adding, "I know he has a potion in here somewhere."
Feln reached down and urged the halfling back with one hand. Vade looked up at the half-orc with a distraught look on his child-like face. "Don't you want to help Morier?" Vade asked. "Why are you stopping me?"
"To give you this," Feln explained, opening his hand to reveal a tiny potion vial. "It's not much, but it should stabilize him until we can aid him further." Vade took the philter and grinned at Feln before pouring the Cure Minor Wounds draught passed Morier's pale lips. Immediately, the albino's breathing evened out and became regular.
"I think this might be what you were looking for," Ixin offered, pointing to a vial bearing the same symbol she had seen on the door to Rherram Ongensleer's hospital, a circle of white flowers. It was one of only three vials remaining in Morier's potion belt. Vade nodded and reached for it, becoming distracted in the process by the potion belt's cunning craftsmanship.
"This is a neat belt!" he said as he palmed the cure potion. "I want one!"
"Step back, Vade," Windstryder said as she came up to them with her healer's kit ready. The halfling moved to get up, but emptied the potion into Morier's mouth before rising. Immediately, Morier awoke, sputtering and trying to get to his feet. Ixin pressed against his shoulders with her hands.
"Easy!" she urged and Morier's red eyes flicked up to hers.
"Is it dead?" he asked and the mage nodded.
"Thanks to Feln," Windstryder laughed as she hunted through her kit. "That was some killing blow, my friend. I have never seen you preform such a feat before."
Compared to the elf, Feln's demeanor seemed almost somber. He looked at his still-bloodied fist and flicked the worst of the ichor off onto the floor. "We have never been in such dire need before," the martial artist explained. "I am trained to find weak spots in my enemy's defenses and strike with precision at their vital organs."
"Well, after seeing what you're capable of I will never come near your dagger again," Vade said, holding both hands up to show that he did not have his fingers crossed. "I promise!"
Feln smiled wanly and drew the dagger from its hiding place. He offered it to Vade saying, "I can think of no safer place for it, friend. You fought bravely. I am in awe."
Vade looked at the offered black blade with something akin to reverence. Then he smiled and gave Feln a big hug. The half-orc smiled and patted Vade's slim shoulder with one calloused hand.
"Come, Vade. Let us search this area for any secrets it might be hiding," Feln suggested. "This lair reminds me of a basement I was in some time ago. The Maester I was sent to... talk with... had a cupboard hidden behind the wall. You had to push in on a certain spot to get it to pop open."
Vade noticed the hesitation and guessed that there was more to Feln's visit than a conversation. But he had no intention of prying; he knew well enough what it was like to have something to hide.
While Feln and Vade searched, Windstryder aided both Morier and Ixin, using her not-inconsiderable knowledge of healing to dress the eldritch warrior's arm and eliminate a portion of the pain in the sorcerer's leg. Once she was back on her feet, Ixin moved about the room, casting a spell that the Dragon's Claw had put to good use in Highgate both to locate people who didn't want to be found and to avoid The Five's law enforcers.
She cast Recent Occupant at several spots around the chamber and discovered an interesting fact: the two individuals who had been in this room last had kept themselves discretely separate. The first presence revealed by her divination was Braath the Lesser, and the magic identified his race as a Skag. He had kept himself exclusively on the northern half of the room, skirting the various workbenches as if he were purposefully avoiding the machine that dominated the south west corner of the chamber.
The other half of the room bore the psychic remnants of another: Nicetas RedFair. The spell marked him as human, although there was enough ambiguity in the response that Ixin was sure that there was something more to it than that. He apparently moved freely about the room and approached the machine with impunity. It wasn't until Vade found the lead box that she found out why.
It had rested inside one of the machine's larger glass globes, and once Vade was confident that the device was untrapped, he had opened the hatch set into the side of the globe and moved to retrieve the plain box. It was corroded and heavy - too heavy for him to move - but the lock was a simple one and he popped it open after only a moment's fiddling. The box's contents made his jaw drop open and his eyes bug.
Platinum! And not just a few coins either! There had to be several hundred royals within the box! Maybe several thou-
"What's that scroll?" Morier asked, startling Vade out of his reverie. The halfling hadn't even noticed the rolled piece of vellum. Using the blade of his dagger, Vade removed the scoll and handed it to the albino.
Morier intoned the words to a minor spell and his eyes glowed violet. "Not magical," he said. "For that matter, neither is this machine."
"What does it say?" Feln asked, indicating the scroll. Morier unfurled it and read the letter aloud.
"To my apprentice,
If you are reading this, it can only mean that you have bypassed my guardian. Congratulations! You have proven yourself to be a better wizard than your father was and I applaud your skill and tenacity! I built that scorpion as a final test for him when he was my apprentice and I know well its capabilities. Your skill in the art must be great indeed.
I fear that you will be disappointed to discover that my apparatus is no longer functioning. I am sure that it has sat in the laboratory mocking you with its inaccessibility and the promise of power beyond your current means. I know that feeling as well. It can drive an apprentice to strive for greater and greater skill. It was that which instilled in me a drive to become the greatest transmuter Oreune has ever seen. Do not be disheartened to find the power beyond your grasp at the moment. Rejoice in the fact that you have passed my final test of worth.
You may join me at my tower in Rhadcliffe. Use this money to purchase whatever you will need to make the journey and leave the hive to fend for itself. Fomenting a war with Hule was ever my master's dream not mine and I grow weary of following his orders any longer. We follow another path, you and I - one that will see such changes wrought across the face of this world, that our names will be forever remembered!
As it says in The Sanction of Transformation: 'All hail the blessed mother of change! In her infinite glory she has seen fit to warp that which was straight and bring asymmetry to that which was caught in the tyranny of redundancy. Conformity is the enemy. Distortion is the key to freedom and joy! All hail!'
Your master, Nicetas the Weaver"
Morier rolled the scroll back up and sighed. "Anybody ever hear of Nicetas the Weaver?" he asked.
"I have," said Ledare as she got awkwardly to her feet. The paralysis had taken a long time to wear off and her joints ached from being locked in the same position for so long. "According to those spellbooks that Kirnoth studied for so long, Nicetas was the name of Andamacles' apprentice."
"Remind me," Windstryder said. "Who is Kirnoth again?"
The rest of the lair held little of immediate interest to them although they did find the real object of their quest: a padded wooden box that held two crystal vials. One was filled with a thick red liquid and the other held a clear brackish fluid. Ilea's blood and tears were theirs at last and with it came the promise of a cure for the plague that was currently decimating Barnacus.
Windstryder moved toward Ledare first, placing her bow beside the unmoving Janissary and drawing out her healer's satchel. She looked earnestly into the half-elf's eyes as she fumbled within her bag for the proper herb.
"Can you breath, Ledare?" the ranger asked. "Blink if you understand me." Of course, being paralyzed, Ledare could do no such thing. Windstryder frowned and placed her ear to Ledare's breastplate but could hear nothing through the heavy armor. She then pressed close to the Janissary's mouth and felt the faint tickle of breath against her ear. She popped a dark bit of fungus in her mouth and began vigorously chewing it into a soft paste. She then eased Ledare onto her back and hunched over the woman.
"Uh, Windstryder?" Ixin called. She was bent over Morier, and the expression on her face plainly showed that the sorcerer's assessment of the albino's health was not encouraging. "I don't think Morier's going to make it!"
The ranger held up a hand a gave the gesture for 'hold position and wait' then she hunched over her current patient. She pressed her lips firmly over the Janissary's mouth and drooled the masticated herb onto Ledare's tongue before straightening up and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. She grinned down at the paralyzed Ledare.
"Hah, hah," she chuckled, her laughter sounding very out-of-place given their surroundings. "Lord Janissary, we call that the healer's kiss. Not a pretty gesture, I know, but necessary under the circumstances."
"OOOH! I can help Morier!" Vade exclaimed as he trotted to the fallen warrior's side. He began rifling through the elf's belongings, adding, "I know he has a potion in here somewhere."
Feln reached down and urged the halfling back with one hand. Vade looked up at the half-orc with a distraught look on his child-like face. "Don't you want to help Morier?" Vade asked. "Why are you stopping me?"
"To give you this," Feln explained, opening his hand to reveal a tiny potion vial. "It's not much, but it should stabilize him until we can aid him further." Vade took the philter and grinned at Feln before pouring the Cure Minor Wounds draught passed Morier's pale lips. Immediately, the albino's breathing evened out and became regular.
"I think this might be what you were looking for," Ixin offered, pointing to a vial bearing the same symbol she had seen on the door to Rherram Ongensleer's hospital, a circle of white flowers. It was one of only three vials remaining in Morier's potion belt. Vade nodded and reached for it, becoming distracted in the process by the potion belt's cunning craftsmanship.
"This is a neat belt!" he said as he palmed the cure potion. "I want one!"
"Step back, Vade," Windstryder said as she came up to them with her healer's kit ready. The halfling moved to get up, but emptied the potion into Morier's mouth before rising. Immediately, Morier awoke, sputtering and trying to get to his feet. Ixin pressed against his shoulders with her hands.
"Easy!" she urged and Morier's red eyes flicked up to hers.
"Is it dead?" he asked and the mage nodded.
"Thanks to Feln," Windstryder laughed as she hunted through her kit. "That was some killing blow, my friend. I have never seen you preform such a feat before."
Compared to the elf, Feln's demeanor seemed almost somber. He looked at his still-bloodied fist and flicked the worst of the ichor off onto the floor. "We have never been in such dire need before," the martial artist explained. "I am trained to find weak spots in my enemy's defenses and strike with precision at their vital organs."
"Well, after seeing what you're capable of I will never come near your dagger again," Vade said, holding both hands up to show that he did not have his fingers crossed. "I promise!"
Feln smiled wanly and drew the dagger from its hiding place. He offered it to Vade saying, "I can think of no safer place for it, friend. You fought bravely. I am in awe."
Vade looked at the offered black blade with something akin to reverence. Then he smiled and gave Feln a big hug. The half-orc smiled and patted Vade's slim shoulder with one calloused hand.
"Come, Vade. Let us search this area for any secrets it might be hiding," Feln suggested. "This lair reminds me of a basement I was in some time ago. The Maester I was sent to... talk with... had a cupboard hidden behind the wall. You had to push in on a certain spot to get it to pop open."
Vade noticed the hesitation and guessed that there was more to Feln's visit than a conversation. But he had no intention of prying; he knew well enough what it was like to have something to hide.
While Feln and Vade searched, Windstryder aided both Morier and Ixin, using her not-inconsiderable knowledge of healing to dress the eldritch warrior's arm and eliminate a portion of the pain in the sorcerer's leg. Once she was back on her feet, Ixin moved about the room, casting a spell that the Dragon's Claw had put to good use in Highgate both to locate people who didn't want to be found and to avoid The Five's law enforcers.
She cast Recent Occupant at several spots around the chamber and discovered an interesting fact: the two individuals who had been in this room last had kept themselves discretely separate. The first presence revealed by her divination was Braath the Lesser, and the magic identified his race as a Skag. He had kept himself exclusively on the northern half of the room, skirting the various workbenches as if he were purposefully avoiding the machine that dominated the south west corner of the chamber.
The other half of the room bore the psychic remnants of another: Nicetas RedFair. The spell marked him as human, although there was enough ambiguity in the response that Ixin was sure that there was something more to it than that. He apparently moved freely about the room and approached the machine with impunity. It wasn't until Vade found the lead box that she found out why.
It had rested inside one of the machine's larger glass globes, and once Vade was confident that the device was untrapped, he had opened the hatch set into the side of the globe and moved to retrieve the plain box. It was corroded and heavy - too heavy for him to move - but the lock was a simple one and he popped it open after only a moment's fiddling. The box's contents made his jaw drop open and his eyes bug.
Platinum! And not just a few coins either! There had to be several hundred royals within the box! Maybe several thou-
"What's that scroll?" Morier asked, startling Vade out of his reverie. The halfling hadn't even noticed the rolled piece of vellum. Using the blade of his dagger, Vade removed the scoll and handed it to the albino.
Morier intoned the words to a minor spell and his eyes glowed violet. "Not magical," he said. "For that matter, neither is this machine."
"What does it say?" Feln asked, indicating the scroll. Morier unfurled it and read the letter aloud.
"To my apprentice,
If you are reading this, it can only mean that you have bypassed my guardian. Congratulations! You have proven yourself to be a better wizard than your father was and I applaud your skill and tenacity! I built that scorpion as a final test for him when he was my apprentice and I know well its capabilities. Your skill in the art must be great indeed.
I fear that you will be disappointed to discover that my apparatus is no longer functioning. I am sure that it has sat in the laboratory mocking you with its inaccessibility and the promise of power beyond your current means. I know that feeling as well. It can drive an apprentice to strive for greater and greater skill. It was that which instilled in me a drive to become the greatest transmuter Oreune has ever seen. Do not be disheartened to find the power beyond your grasp at the moment. Rejoice in the fact that you have passed my final test of worth.
You may join me at my tower in Rhadcliffe. Use this money to purchase whatever you will need to make the journey and leave the hive to fend for itself. Fomenting a war with Hule was ever my master's dream not mine and I grow weary of following his orders any longer. We follow another path, you and I - one that will see such changes wrought across the face of this world, that our names will be forever remembered!
As it says in The Sanction of Transformation: 'All hail the blessed mother of change! In her infinite glory she has seen fit to warp that which was straight and bring asymmetry to that which was caught in the tyranny of redundancy. Conformity is the enemy. Distortion is the key to freedom and joy! All hail!'
Your master, Nicetas the Weaver"
Morier rolled the scroll back up and sighed. "Anybody ever hear of Nicetas the Weaver?" he asked.
"I have," said Ledare as she got awkwardly to her feet. The paralysis had taken a long time to wear off and her joints ached from being locked in the same position for so long. "According to those spellbooks that Kirnoth studied for so long, Nicetas was the name of Andamacles' apprentice."
"Remind me," Windstryder said. "Who is Kirnoth again?"
The rest of the lair held little of immediate interest to them although they did find the real object of their quest: a padded wooden box that held two crystal vials. One was filled with a thick red liquid and the other held a clear brackish fluid. Ilea's blood and tears were theirs at last and with it came the promise of a cure for the plague that was currently decimating Barnacus.
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Jon Potter said:
Yay! Although it's never that simple is it?
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #257] It's All Right Here!
"It is a tremendous service you have done for our village," Lord Arundel told them and raised a flagon of mulled cider. "You have not only eliminated a threat to our very lives, but you have allowed for the recovery of goods produced from the very sweat of our citizens over this passed year."
Vade didn't like the sound of goods made of sweat and he grimaced. "Eeeww," he moaned under his breath and Feln looked over at him with a bemused grin on his lips.
"We could not leave you in such a dire situation, mi'lord," Ledare told her uncle and the man smiled at her paternally.
"Of course not, Janissary," he said. "You are far too honorable for that."
"Aye!" Gellir agreed, thumping Ledare hard enough on the back to make her armor rattle. "Tha' ye be! There be nae mistakin' it!"
"I offer you and your fellows the hospitality of my hearth for so long as you might wish it," Lord Arundel said. "I will arrange for a feast tomorrow night in your honor and-"
"We can't stay," Windstryder said, cutting off the Lord. She turned to look at her companions and asserted, "We must to Barnacus with all haste!"
Lord Arundel sputtered, obviously unused to having someone interrupt him only to refuse his offered hospitality. Ledare could see color rising in Gellir's cheeks as he readied himself to defend her great uncle from further embarrassment. She stepped quickly into the social breach and bowed diplomatically to Lord Arundel.
"Mi'lord," she began. "Uncle. We now have the cure for the plague that has befallen the capital. We dare not tarry here while so many lives depend on us returning with this cure."
"I understand, Ledare," Lord Arundel replied, and a shadow of worry passed over his face. He turned toward the hearth and stared briefly into the flames as he thought about his daughter and grandson. The hound reclining on the stone nuzzled against the man's leg as he turned back to the assemblage. "No one understands the importance of the cure better than I or has more to lose if this cure fails to reach Barnacus in time. But we have dispatched a rider to the shrine of Garjarvan and doubtless a Runner has already made haste toward Elcaden. News of the cure will reach the King's ear within the week."
"News of the cure is not the cure itself," Windstryder chided and Vade's eyes widened with alarm as he mentally willed her to stop talking. It didn't work. "My mission was to bring a cure to Barnacus and I intend to do just that."
"Your intentions are good, but your methods would take too long, ranger" another voice said and all eyes turned toward the hearth. The hound that had been there was gone, and a burly man with a thick beard sat in its place.
"Malcolm!" the man's name was shouted in unison by Morier, Gellir and Lord Arundel. Only the albino sounded pleased to see him.
"What have I told you about snooping about my manor?!" Lord Arundel bellowed.
"Desperate times, mi'lord," the druid said by way of explanation. The word "mi'lord" passed his lips with some difficulty. "And anyway, I've only just returned to your demesne, so you needn't fear my intrusion beyond this little meeting today."
"And what is so desperate that you felt it necessary to violate our agreement, Malcolm?" Lord Arundel grumbled. "If our treaty means so little to you, I have hunters and loggers eager to ply their trades within Spiderwood. I need but give them my blessing."
"And I have many beavers upstream eager to damn the Drewett. And wolves that would love to dine on your flocks. Not to mention mice that I can barely keep away from your graneries," Malcolm said with a huff, not at all impressed by Arundel's threat. "I do not violate our agreement lightly. I have heard of the troubles that have arisen in and about these woods during my absence. I was told of them who slew the invaders and wished to thank them myself." The druid got easily to his feet, moving with grace despite his girth and age.
"It seems now that you need my help!" he said and laughed deeply. "I have already sent a message to a druid closer to Barnacus that a cure has been found. And I've an albatross that can carry the cure on its way."
The Companions looked at Malcolm with suspicion.
"Come on, now!" he chuckled. "Winesada will have notified the king of your success by nightfall and my animal messenger can have the cure in Barnacus before Lord Arundel's runner has a chance to start back for Byr. You have succeeded in saving the city."
"Well, then," Lord Arundel said after a moment during which no one spoke. "It's settled then. We'll celebrate and you'll stay for the feast." But Ledare shook her head.
"With all due respect, mi'lord," she said. "Nothing is decided. We have other duties to which we must attend and other things we need to acquire. Things that Hillville Junction can't readily offer us."
"Such as?" Lord Arundel asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I have some magical stuff that I need to have a wizard take a look at," Vade piped up, drawing back his sleeve to show off one of the bracers he had found in The Devourer's caves. "So I can know what they do."
"Angwyn ap-Llewellyn is a capable wizard," Lord Arundel said. He turned to Morier and asked, "He would be willing to look at your halfling's bravers, would he not?"
"Probably," Morier said after a few moment's thought. "He'd probably want to be paid, though."
"You have a chest full of platinum," the Lord reminded. "More species than this entire village is likely to see in a decade's labor. Surely you can afford to hire a wizard to cast a few spells. Now what else to you have that Hillville Junction can not provide you?"
"I would like to acquire some new, lighter armor. Chainmail perhaps," Ledare said and Gellir burst out laughing.
"An' why would ye be wantin' ta leave tha Junction, then?" he guffawed. "When ye've got a dwarven smith at yer beck 'n' call? I ken make chainmail in me sleep, lass!"
And so it went for some time, with the group mentioning items they wished to have and services they needed to purchase and Lord Arundel explaining that those things could be found right within the confines of Hillville Junction. It was plain to Ledare and the others that the Lord was trying his best to ensure that a goodly portion of their newfound wealth stayed in his fief rather than migrate elsewhere with their leaving. But in the end, they announced that they would stay for dinner and discuss their plans amongst themselves.
Meanwhile...
Winesada stepped out of the trees and surveyed the farmsteads that marked the hills below like a quilt. The men of this land did their best to tame the wilderlands - an effort that rarely bore them fruit - but there was a harmony here that pleased the druid. The pulse of the Green was all around her even here on the edge of cultivated fields, fields that represented an imposed order that Nature would never have chosen. She sighed, sensing the next oak in range and stepped into the tree behind her...
... and out again from another oak several thousand feet closer to the city walls. She emerged amidst a stand of beech trees near a wooden signpost. A weatherworn plaque on the post bore the black silhouette of a petrel in flight above a name carved in the commontongue: Fudd O'Sheah. An arrow pointed along a narrow path leading into the stand of beech trees, but that wasn't Winesada's destination. She sensed another oak and stepped into the tree by which she'd come...
... appearing at the edge of an untended field of wheat. The tree was on the corner of the plot and a barricade of cleared brush and stones surrounded it. They presented no impediment at all to the druid and she stepped through them into the unkempt field. It had been many days since the wheat had been tended and weeds were beginning to reclaim the once-orderly rows. Winesada smiled and looked toward the whattle-and-daub farmhouse on the opposite side of the field. It too looked untended behind its shuttered windows.
Apparently the stream of refugees fleeing north through Rowan Wood had come from these very farms. Suddenly Malcolm's whispers of plague didn't sound so outlandish. The druid stood and strode purposefully back through the pile of cleared undergrowth.
Two Tree Strides later she was inside the walls of Barnacus. The stench of death was strong here, and Winesada could hear the sound of sobbing and insane babbling coming from many of the buildings that abutted the small park in which she found herself. She grimaced and wildshaped into the form of a gull. Running and flapping, she took awkwardly to the air.
The view from above was as bad as it had been from the ground. The city was like a ghost town. Shops and homes alike were tightly boarded up and the streets themselves were deserted apart from the few staggering figures she occasionally spotted moving from alley to alley. Oily clouds of smoke choked the afternoon sky where the druid could see armored men dutifully burning corpses in the main thoroughfare that crossed the city. She avoided that area and sailed out across a nearly empty harbor toward the rocky island that jutted up from the sea like an enormous titan of stone wearing a formidable castle as a crown.
Her shadow passed over the ruins of a pair of sailing ships that had been sunk in the harbor. They were surrounded by clouds of flies and swarms of hungry fish, speaking of the drowned sailors floating, bloated amidst the wreckage. Winesada adjusted her wings and angled in over the outer curtain wall.
The bailey was crammed with refugees seeking respite from the plague. They seemed miserable, but the druid could tell from their clothing and the richness of their pavilions that these were the wealthiest of Barnacus' people. The nobility had come to the king for a safety that even the impressive walls of his castle could not provide.
She landed near a cluster of soldiers and resumed her elven form. There were cries of fear from the gentry, and the guards levelled their halbards at her. Unperturbed, she approached them with her hands neatly folded.
"I have been sent to speak with your king," she said in the commontongue. "I bring word from Byr that a cure has been found."
"It is a tremendous service you have done for our village," Lord Arundel told them and raised a flagon of mulled cider. "You have not only eliminated a threat to our very lives, but you have allowed for the recovery of goods produced from the very sweat of our citizens over this passed year."
Vade didn't like the sound of goods made of sweat and he grimaced. "Eeeww," he moaned under his breath and Feln looked over at him with a bemused grin on his lips.
"We could not leave you in such a dire situation, mi'lord," Ledare told her uncle and the man smiled at her paternally.
"Of course not, Janissary," he said. "You are far too honorable for that."
"Aye!" Gellir agreed, thumping Ledare hard enough on the back to make her armor rattle. "Tha' ye be! There be nae mistakin' it!"
"I offer you and your fellows the hospitality of my hearth for so long as you might wish it," Lord Arundel said. "I will arrange for a feast tomorrow night in your honor and-"
"We can't stay," Windstryder said, cutting off the Lord. She turned to look at her companions and asserted, "We must to Barnacus with all haste!"
Lord Arundel sputtered, obviously unused to having someone interrupt him only to refuse his offered hospitality. Ledare could see color rising in Gellir's cheeks as he readied himself to defend her great uncle from further embarrassment. She stepped quickly into the social breach and bowed diplomatically to Lord Arundel.
"Mi'lord," she began. "Uncle. We now have the cure for the plague that has befallen the capital. We dare not tarry here while so many lives depend on us returning with this cure."
"I understand, Ledare," Lord Arundel replied, and a shadow of worry passed over his face. He turned toward the hearth and stared briefly into the flames as he thought about his daughter and grandson. The hound reclining on the stone nuzzled against the man's leg as he turned back to the assemblage. "No one understands the importance of the cure better than I or has more to lose if this cure fails to reach Barnacus in time. But we have dispatched a rider to the shrine of Garjarvan and doubtless a Runner has already made haste toward Elcaden. News of the cure will reach the King's ear within the week."
"News of the cure is not the cure itself," Windstryder chided and Vade's eyes widened with alarm as he mentally willed her to stop talking. It didn't work. "My mission was to bring a cure to Barnacus and I intend to do just that."
"Your intentions are good, but your methods would take too long, ranger" another voice said and all eyes turned toward the hearth. The hound that had been there was gone, and a burly man with a thick beard sat in its place.
"Malcolm!" the man's name was shouted in unison by Morier, Gellir and Lord Arundel. Only the albino sounded pleased to see him.
"What have I told you about snooping about my manor?!" Lord Arundel bellowed.
"Desperate times, mi'lord," the druid said by way of explanation. The word "mi'lord" passed his lips with some difficulty. "And anyway, I've only just returned to your demesne, so you needn't fear my intrusion beyond this little meeting today."
"And what is so desperate that you felt it necessary to violate our agreement, Malcolm?" Lord Arundel grumbled. "If our treaty means so little to you, I have hunters and loggers eager to ply their trades within Spiderwood. I need but give them my blessing."
"And I have many beavers upstream eager to damn the Drewett. And wolves that would love to dine on your flocks. Not to mention mice that I can barely keep away from your graneries," Malcolm said with a huff, not at all impressed by Arundel's threat. "I do not violate our agreement lightly. I have heard of the troubles that have arisen in and about these woods during my absence. I was told of them who slew the invaders and wished to thank them myself." The druid got easily to his feet, moving with grace despite his girth and age.
"It seems now that you need my help!" he said and laughed deeply. "I have already sent a message to a druid closer to Barnacus that a cure has been found. And I've an albatross that can carry the cure on its way."
The Companions looked at Malcolm with suspicion.
"Come on, now!" he chuckled. "Winesada will have notified the king of your success by nightfall and my animal messenger can have the cure in Barnacus before Lord Arundel's runner has a chance to start back for Byr. You have succeeded in saving the city."
"Well, then," Lord Arundel said after a moment during which no one spoke. "It's settled then. We'll celebrate and you'll stay for the feast." But Ledare shook her head.
"With all due respect, mi'lord," she said. "Nothing is decided. We have other duties to which we must attend and other things we need to acquire. Things that Hillville Junction can't readily offer us."
"Such as?" Lord Arundel asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I have some magical stuff that I need to have a wizard take a look at," Vade piped up, drawing back his sleeve to show off one of the bracers he had found in The Devourer's caves. "So I can know what they do."
"Angwyn ap-Llewellyn is a capable wizard," Lord Arundel said. He turned to Morier and asked, "He would be willing to look at your halfling's bravers, would he not?"
"Probably," Morier said after a few moment's thought. "He'd probably want to be paid, though."
"You have a chest full of platinum," the Lord reminded. "More species than this entire village is likely to see in a decade's labor. Surely you can afford to hire a wizard to cast a few spells. Now what else to you have that Hillville Junction can not provide you?"
"I would like to acquire some new, lighter armor. Chainmail perhaps," Ledare said and Gellir burst out laughing.
"An' why would ye be wantin' ta leave tha Junction, then?" he guffawed. "When ye've got a dwarven smith at yer beck 'n' call? I ken make chainmail in me sleep, lass!"
And so it went for some time, with the group mentioning items they wished to have and services they needed to purchase and Lord Arundel explaining that those things could be found right within the confines of Hillville Junction. It was plain to Ledare and the others that the Lord was trying his best to ensure that a goodly portion of their newfound wealth stayed in his fief rather than migrate elsewhere with their leaving. But in the end, they announced that they would stay for dinner and discuss their plans amongst themselves.
Meanwhile...
Winesada stepped out of the trees and surveyed the farmsteads that marked the hills below like a quilt. The men of this land did their best to tame the wilderlands - an effort that rarely bore them fruit - but there was a harmony here that pleased the druid. The pulse of the Green was all around her even here on the edge of cultivated fields, fields that represented an imposed order that Nature would never have chosen. She sighed, sensing the next oak in range and stepped into the tree behind her...
... and out again from another oak several thousand feet closer to the city walls. She emerged amidst a stand of beech trees near a wooden signpost. A weatherworn plaque on the post bore the black silhouette of a petrel in flight above a name carved in the commontongue: Fudd O'Sheah. An arrow pointed along a narrow path leading into the stand of beech trees, but that wasn't Winesada's destination. She sensed another oak and stepped into the tree by which she'd come...
... appearing at the edge of an untended field of wheat. The tree was on the corner of the plot and a barricade of cleared brush and stones surrounded it. They presented no impediment at all to the druid and she stepped through them into the unkempt field. It had been many days since the wheat had been tended and weeds were beginning to reclaim the once-orderly rows. Winesada smiled and looked toward the whattle-and-daub farmhouse on the opposite side of the field. It too looked untended behind its shuttered windows.
Apparently the stream of refugees fleeing north through Rowan Wood had come from these very farms. Suddenly Malcolm's whispers of plague didn't sound so outlandish. The druid stood and strode purposefully back through the pile of cleared undergrowth.
Two Tree Strides later she was inside the walls of Barnacus. The stench of death was strong here, and Winesada could hear the sound of sobbing and insane babbling coming from many of the buildings that abutted the small park in which she found herself. She grimaced and wildshaped into the form of a gull. Running and flapping, she took awkwardly to the air.
The view from above was as bad as it had been from the ground. The city was like a ghost town. Shops and homes alike were tightly boarded up and the streets themselves were deserted apart from the few staggering figures she occasionally spotted moving from alley to alley. Oily clouds of smoke choked the afternoon sky where the druid could see armored men dutifully burning corpses in the main thoroughfare that crossed the city. She avoided that area and sailed out across a nearly empty harbor toward the rocky island that jutted up from the sea like an enormous titan of stone wearing a formidable castle as a crown.
Her shadow passed over the ruins of a pair of sailing ships that had been sunk in the harbor. They were surrounded by clouds of flies and swarms of hungry fish, speaking of the drowned sailors floating, bloated amidst the wreckage. Winesada adjusted her wings and angled in over the outer curtain wall.
The bailey was crammed with refugees seeking respite from the plague. They seemed miserable, but the druid could tell from their clothing and the richness of their pavilions that these were the wealthiest of Barnacus' people. The nobility had come to the king for a safety that even the impressive walls of his castle could not provide.
She landed near a cluster of soldiers and resumed her elven form. There were cries of fear from the gentry, and the guards levelled their halbards at her. Unperturbed, she approached them with her hands neatly folded.
"I have been sent to speak with your king," she said in the commontongue. "I bring word from Byr that a cure has been found."
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Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #258] The Archer takes a Bow
"We should take the cure to Barnacus ourselves," Windstryder said flatly and Morier shook his white-maned head again.
"I disagree," he asserted. "Malcolm has offered us a way to deliver the cure faster than we could manage ourselves. We should avail ourselves of it."
"I do not know Malcolm and know not if we can trust him with the cure," Windstryder said disapprovingly. "He is a druid and that automatically lends my trust to him from ranger to druid; however, I do not know him."
"I've known Malcolm for years," the albino argued.
"So, Morier, you think we should trust Malcolm with the blood and tears?" Ledare asked. "Are you sure?"
"I am saying that I would trust him with them without hesitation," the eldritch warrior replied with a nod.
"I'd argue that that decision rests ultimately with Windstryder," the Janissary told him. "These days it's hard to be sure of anything, or anyone."
"Debate is pointless," Feln growled. "Our mission is too important for us to deliver this cure. We need to give the druid the ingredients and send them off. It will take days for us to get there overland and those days will cost lives."
"But how do we know the druid's albatross will make it to Barnacus? What if it is shot down or captured by the enemy? Then everything we have fought for is lost, and Barnacus may well be lost as well," the ranger persisted, giving the half-orc a somewhat betrayed look. She had clearly been hoping for his support.
Feln sighed heavily and regarded the elf. "I know it is selfish, Windstryder, but I have never been a hero," he apologized. "It feels good and I am going to stay here for at least a few days."
"Yeah!" Vade agreed. "We should relax a little."
Now it was Windstryder's turn to sigh and she looked away from the group for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. The others discussed the matters of re-outfitting themselves in Hillville Junction and identifying the few magic items that Vade had been carrying about, while the ranger pondered her course. Ledare had decided to take Gellir up on his offer to craft her a new suit of armor by the time Windstryder had decided what she must do.
"I understand your desire to stay here to rest," the elf announced to her companions. Her tone indicated that, while she understood the desire, she in no way agreed with it. "I could go alone, but I do not believe I will be back in a few days. We could rest here and go ourselves in a few days. Of course there is no guarantee that we will make it there in time to save the city."
"Which is why I think that Morier's plan is the best one," Ixin said in a diplomatic tone. "Malcolm has offered us a method to get the cure to Barnacus quicker than we could deliver it ourselves."
"Perhaps the albatross is the safer route," Windstryder conceded. "My vote is to trust the Druid and his messengers. I believe he was sent to aid us at this moment. I believe our efforts need to be away to the other clues we have sought. Adamancales' apprentice for one."
"I'm glad you agree," Ledare said with a smile. "I'm sure that the druid's messenger will arrive in the capital unmolested." The ranger nodded.
"Just the same, I will confer with Anta to see if she chooses to travel with the Albatross and protect it," Windstryder offered. "A hawk is a noble fighter to protect the Albatross. But she is her own girl. I do not control her in anyway. She and I have an... understanding... and she chooses to travel with me. The Gods will guide our paths, I foresee, to where we need to be."
At that moment, the others had no idea that the elf had already decided where it was that she needed to be.
Some time later, after they had given over the blood and tears to Malcolm and the druid had used his rapport with nature to convince a bird to take the two small vials to Winesada in Barnacus, the Companions were treated to a meal fit for the Lord of the Manor. They dined on mutton flavored with a heady pear and currant glaze, a platter of sliced and roasted root vegetables, hearty wheat bread sweetened with honey, and fine pastries stuffed with fragrant cheese. Wine flowed freely from several large pewter pitchers, and both Vade and Ledare agreed that Ruze would have been in his glory before such a repast.
No one thought much of the fact that Windstryder had elected not to attend the dinner. Not until Lord Arundel bade his steward read the note while they finished up the last bits of pastry. "This was left by your associate, the elf," Lord Arundel explained as his steward unfolded the sheets of parchment,"with instructions to have it read aloud after we had supped."
"Lord Arundel, I require this be written down for the annals and for my report should I be unable to give it upon my return to Barnacus, and I must apologize for my bluntness, for I know not the ways of the court," the steward read from the parchment. "I am an elf raised far from any elven community that would teach its people the waypaths for interior navigation. The King chose me to sally forth singly for that is where my skills and weaknesses are best served. I do know I seem not to be on the good sides of those I encounter. In my mind what I say is clear and without brutality, but those that interpret me, see me differently. I often do not operate well in a team, and the King's advisors must have foreseen this. So Ranger Teams One through Four were dispatched as units, and I was sent alone."
"Well, your friend is certainly verbose," Lord Arundel remarked with a chuckle as he began lighting a pipe.
"Now here is the ironic part, my Lord. My team recovered the cure for Barnacus," the steward went on after a signal from Arundel. "First noble and quiet Feln who, although not a ranger and not charged with the King's mission, travelled and protected me on the waypath. He fought hard and put his life at risk for the King. I would like him to be formally commended."
"High praise indeed," Lord Arundel said with a note of surprise in his voice. Gellir merely harrumphed and gulped down a goblet of wine.
"Second, although charged with her own mission, Janissary Ledare allowed my mission to continue under hers," the steward read. "She commanded with clarity, thoughtfulness, and care for her soldiers. She risked her life several times to assist me in my mission and the King's. I know it goes without saying, but I formally commend the Lord Janissary in my report."
Lord Arundel said nothing, but smiled proudly at Ledare while indicating that the steward should read on. He shuffled to the next sheet of parchment and went on.
"Ixin and Morier are warriors I would fight next to any time," the steward said. "We scouted and deployed on a hillock where we were outnumbered 12 to 1 by the enemy. We struck swiftly and efficiently and dispatched all of the insect creatures and their brood, quietly and quickly. But we did not stop there, my Lord. We continued to the lair where Morier and Ixin alone killed the brood Queen - suffering near-mortal wounds in the process. I formally recommend commendations for Morier and Ixin."
"You shall have to tell our bard of this tale," Lord Arundel told Morier. "I am sure she would like to spread it about."
"And lastly, there is Vade," the steward read. "How he does not end up in the King's jail for his sticky fingers, I do not know. How he escapes the clutch of the robbed, I do not know. But I sense his heart as pure, and he uses his skills for the cause. These are skills I do not personally respect or like. I believe them to be underhanded. Yet, I am not a Lord or Judge. I am a ranger and my thoughts are my own. Were it not for his abilities in support of the team, I do believe we would have failed. I thusly recommend Vade for commendation as well."
Gellir harrumphed again and, with a shake of his head, he muttered a single word under his breath, "Halflings." The sound was almost drowned out by the steward shuffling to the last piece of parchment, but Vade's hearing was keen. The halfling glared at Gellir and stuck his tongue out when the dwarf turned his head.
"So, it is only after I have learned the value of teamwork that I must travel on my own again," the steward read on. "I am afraid I must follow my duty and see the blood and tears safely to Barnacus. The King would expect no less from me, and I shall not fail in my mission."
"What?" Feln said, standing so abruptly that his chair tipped over backward with a bang. Servants scuttled forward to right the chair immediately.
"Calm yerself, orcblood," Gellir growled across the table and Lord Arundel nodded.
"Yes, do sit down," he advised. "I believe there is more."
"Feln, you may travel with me anytime, brother, but your waypath lies with the others now," the steward went on after the martial artist had settled himself back in his chair. "Ixin and Morier, your battle prowess shall serve you well. And little one, remember what I said, although your heart lies pure there are many who would not have the patience to deal with your deft fingers. Janissary Ledare, it was a pleasure serving under you. Our waypaths are determined. Where we meet next only Brogine knows."
"She followed the druid's bird?" Ixin asked, after a pause.
"So it would seem," Lord Arundel remarked.
"Should we go after her?" Morier asked, tensing to stand, but Feln shook his head.
"She knows the lands too well and she has too much of a head start," the half-orc admitted. "We'd never overtake her. And anyway, I don't think she'd want us to try."
"We should take the cure to Barnacus ourselves," Windstryder said flatly and Morier shook his white-maned head again.
"I disagree," he asserted. "Malcolm has offered us a way to deliver the cure faster than we could manage ourselves. We should avail ourselves of it."
"I do not know Malcolm and know not if we can trust him with the cure," Windstryder said disapprovingly. "He is a druid and that automatically lends my trust to him from ranger to druid; however, I do not know him."
"I've known Malcolm for years," the albino argued.
"So, Morier, you think we should trust Malcolm with the blood and tears?" Ledare asked. "Are you sure?"
"I am saying that I would trust him with them without hesitation," the eldritch warrior replied with a nod.
"I'd argue that that decision rests ultimately with Windstryder," the Janissary told him. "These days it's hard to be sure of anything, or anyone."
"Debate is pointless," Feln growled. "Our mission is too important for us to deliver this cure. We need to give the druid the ingredients and send them off. It will take days for us to get there overland and those days will cost lives."
"But how do we know the druid's albatross will make it to Barnacus? What if it is shot down or captured by the enemy? Then everything we have fought for is lost, and Barnacus may well be lost as well," the ranger persisted, giving the half-orc a somewhat betrayed look. She had clearly been hoping for his support.
Feln sighed heavily and regarded the elf. "I know it is selfish, Windstryder, but I have never been a hero," he apologized. "It feels good and I am going to stay here for at least a few days."
"Yeah!" Vade agreed. "We should relax a little."
Now it was Windstryder's turn to sigh and she looked away from the group for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. The others discussed the matters of re-outfitting themselves in Hillville Junction and identifying the few magic items that Vade had been carrying about, while the ranger pondered her course. Ledare had decided to take Gellir up on his offer to craft her a new suit of armor by the time Windstryder had decided what she must do.
"I understand your desire to stay here to rest," the elf announced to her companions. Her tone indicated that, while she understood the desire, she in no way agreed with it. "I could go alone, but I do not believe I will be back in a few days. We could rest here and go ourselves in a few days. Of course there is no guarantee that we will make it there in time to save the city."
"Which is why I think that Morier's plan is the best one," Ixin said in a diplomatic tone. "Malcolm has offered us a method to get the cure to Barnacus quicker than we could deliver it ourselves."
"Perhaps the albatross is the safer route," Windstryder conceded. "My vote is to trust the Druid and his messengers. I believe he was sent to aid us at this moment. I believe our efforts need to be away to the other clues we have sought. Adamancales' apprentice for one."
"I'm glad you agree," Ledare said with a smile. "I'm sure that the druid's messenger will arrive in the capital unmolested." The ranger nodded.
"Just the same, I will confer with Anta to see if she chooses to travel with the Albatross and protect it," Windstryder offered. "A hawk is a noble fighter to protect the Albatross. But she is her own girl. I do not control her in anyway. She and I have an... understanding... and she chooses to travel with me. The Gods will guide our paths, I foresee, to where we need to be."
At that moment, the others had no idea that the elf had already decided where it was that she needed to be.
Some time later, after they had given over the blood and tears to Malcolm and the druid had used his rapport with nature to convince a bird to take the two small vials to Winesada in Barnacus, the Companions were treated to a meal fit for the Lord of the Manor. They dined on mutton flavored with a heady pear and currant glaze, a platter of sliced and roasted root vegetables, hearty wheat bread sweetened with honey, and fine pastries stuffed with fragrant cheese. Wine flowed freely from several large pewter pitchers, and both Vade and Ledare agreed that Ruze would have been in his glory before such a repast.
No one thought much of the fact that Windstryder had elected not to attend the dinner. Not until Lord Arundel bade his steward read the note while they finished up the last bits of pastry. "This was left by your associate, the elf," Lord Arundel explained as his steward unfolded the sheets of parchment,"with instructions to have it read aloud after we had supped."
"Lord Arundel, I require this be written down for the annals and for my report should I be unable to give it upon my return to Barnacus, and I must apologize for my bluntness, for I know not the ways of the court," the steward read from the parchment. "I am an elf raised far from any elven community that would teach its people the waypaths for interior navigation. The King chose me to sally forth singly for that is where my skills and weaknesses are best served. I do know I seem not to be on the good sides of those I encounter. In my mind what I say is clear and without brutality, but those that interpret me, see me differently. I often do not operate well in a team, and the King's advisors must have foreseen this. So Ranger Teams One through Four were dispatched as units, and I was sent alone."
"Well, your friend is certainly verbose," Lord Arundel remarked with a chuckle as he began lighting a pipe.
"Now here is the ironic part, my Lord. My team recovered the cure for Barnacus," the steward went on after a signal from Arundel. "First noble and quiet Feln who, although not a ranger and not charged with the King's mission, travelled and protected me on the waypath. He fought hard and put his life at risk for the King. I would like him to be formally commended."
"High praise indeed," Lord Arundel said with a note of surprise in his voice. Gellir merely harrumphed and gulped down a goblet of wine.
"Second, although charged with her own mission, Janissary Ledare allowed my mission to continue under hers," the steward read. "She commanded with clarity, thoughtfulness, and care for her soldiers. She risked her life several times to assist me in my mission and the King's. I know it goes without saying, but I formally commend the Lord Janissary in my report."
Lord Arundel said nothing, but smiled proudly at Ledare while indicating that the steward should read on. He shuffled to the next sheet of parchment and went on.
"Ixin and Morier are warriors I would fight next to any time," the steward said. "We scouted and deployed on a hillock where we were outnumbered 12 to 1 by the enemy. We struck swiftly and efficiently and dispatched all of the insect creatures and their brood, quietly and quickly. But we did not stop there, my Lord. We continued to the lair where Morier and Ixin alone killed the brood Queen - suffering near-mortal wounds in the process. I formally recommend commendations for Morier and Ixin."
"You shall have to tell our bard of this tale," Lord Arundel told Morier. "I am sure she would like to spread it about."
"And lastly, there is Vade," the steward read. "How he does not end up in the King's jail for his sticky fingers, I do not know. How he escapes the clutch of the robbed, I do not know. But I sense his heart as pure, and he uses his skills for the cause. These are skills I do not personally respect or like. I believe them to be underhanded. Yet, I am not a Lord or Judge. I am a ranger and my thoughts are my own. Were it not for his abilities in support of the team, I do believe we would have failed. I thusly recommend Vade for commendation as well."
Gellir harrumphed again and, with a shake of his head, he muttered a single word under his breath, "Halflings." The sound was almost drowned out by the steward shuffling to the last piece of parchment, but Vade's hearing was keen. The halfling glared at Gellir and stuck his tongue out when the dwarf turned his head.
"So, it is only after I have learned the value of teamwork that I must travel on my own again," the steward read on. "I am afraid I must follow my duty and see the blood and tears safely to Barnacus. The King would expect no less from me, and I shall not fail in my mission."
"What?" Feln said, standing so abruptly that his chair tipped over backward with a bang. Servants scuttled forward to right the chair immediately.
"Calm yerself, orcblood," Gellir growled across the table and Lord Arundel nodded.
"Yes, do sit down," he advised. "I believe there is more."
"Feln, you may travel with me anytime, brother, but your waypath lies with the others now," the steward went on after the martial artist had settled himself back in his chair. "Ixin and Morier, your battle prowess shall serve you well. And little one, remember what I said, although your heart lies pure there are many who would not have the patience to deal with your deft fingers. Janissary Ledare, it was a pleasure serving under you. Our waypaths are determined. Where we meet next only Brogine knows."
"She followed the druid's bird?" Ixin asked, after a pause.
"So it would seem," Lord Arundel remarked.
"Should we go after her?" Morier asked, tensing to stand, but Feln shook his head.
"She knows the lands too well and she has too much of a head start," the half-orc admitted. "We'd never overtake her. And anyway, I don't think she'd want us to try."
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Jon Potter said:
A fracture, a separation, or did real life cause Wyndstrider to leave?
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:
None of the above. Her player simply couldn't reconcile the fact that Windstryder simply would not have let the cure go like that. All along, he's been saying that Windstryder is all about her duties as a ranger and to the king. Her mission was to retrieve the cure, and, with so much hanging in the balance, she would absolutely want to see that mission through to the end.
The rest of the group - wisely I think - wanted to rest and re-equip a bit before rushing into the next hornet's nest. So it became a question of playing Windstryder in-character and leaving the group or going along with everybody else and hanging out in Hillville Junction.
He chose the former and asked if he could put her "on hiatus" while he played a very different sort of character for a while. Let's just say that Gellir's about to have some company.
You can read about his "new" character right here
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Awesome! And here I thought it was going to be a permanent thing. So what's up next for the heros? Some personal gratification, or save the world?
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:So what's up next for the heros? Some personal gratification, or save the world?
You've just named their short term and long term goals - in that order.
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #259] The Festival of Who?
Feln hung his head for a moment. He hadn't counted many as his friend since the fall of the Brotherhood, and Windstryder had been such a one. It left him saddened and angry all at the same time, so he focused on the empty plate before him while he wrestled back the violent emotions that were part of his orcish heritage. The others were similarly quiet, though for reasons of their own. Even Lord Arundel busied himself muttering to his aid about the contents of Windstryder's message.
"What's going on here?" Ledare said at last. Her voice sounded very loud in the quiet hall.
"What d'ye mean, lassie?" Gellir growled, picking at his teeth with the nail of his little finger.
"I mean her praise was nice and all that, but I certainly hope there isn't more to this," she explained, looking at each of her remaining companions. "Does anyone else suspect foul play?"
"Windstryder had her reasons for leaving the group, Ledare," Ixin assured the half-elf. "Her mission and ours are not the same at this point, that's all."
"I do see why she would want to follow the bird, but I doubt that she could keep up with it," Vade added with a shrug of his slim shoulders. "I mean, how can she hope to follow so quickly? Unless I am missing something."
"Windstryder is capable of great feats of endurance when she wishes," Feln muttered. "I have seen her run tirelessly long after my own reserves have failed me. She may not be as fast as the bird, but if the creature rests on its journey she will make up the distance."
"Then perhaps we will meet again further south," Ixin said optimistically. She winked surreptitiously at Vade and added, "I hope so, as she was a valiant warrior." Vade rolled his eyes at this characterization of someone he considered to be more of an annoyance than a help.
"So, do we just carry on while Windstryder does what she has to do?" Ledare asked the group and there were nods all around.
"I do not see how her decision can change ours, Ledare," Ixin offered. "We must head south. Ultimately, in my opinion, to Myth Drannor."
"That's a really long way," Vade said. "At least I think it is."
"It's in Pellham," Ledare told him. "Six moonsdances of hard travel at the least."
"What if we use the portal?" the halfling asked and then thought about returning to The Devourer's dark cave and gave a little shudder.
"Perhaps," Ledare said and her expression told Vade that she didn't wish to discuss all of this in front of Lord Arundel and Gellir.
"I am also concerned about the location of this Andamacles, as clearly he is responsible for war mongering," Ixin added and Ledare nodded.
"Andamacles is dead," she told the mage. "With my own eyes I saw him laid low by a dwarf some moonsdances ago. So unless he's returned from the dead, we have nothing to fear from him." Gellir made the sign of the evil eye and spit on the floor.
"Best nae ta speak thus o' the dead, lassie," he told her. "Lady Death nae be likin' it when the Gaurdian o' the Gate loses one o' her charges."
"So assuming that Ledare is right," Ixin went on, "we still have to focus our attention southward. I do not see how we can possibly do more locally than we have already done, except to leave the money we do not spend, as Feln has suggested."
"A donation to the manorial coffers?" Lord Arundel perked up at once. "You are truly an honorable group and I will see that Ranger Windstryder's recommendations for each of you is sent with all haste to the capital!" He nodded to his steward and the man began to rush off.
"My lord," Feln began awkwardly, "I would send along a message for Windstryder with her report, if I might. So that she knows of our plans and how to rejoin us if that is her decision."
"Certainly," Lord Arundel replied and motioned for Feln to accompany the departing servant. "My steward will happily scribe your message before sending the report off to Barnacus."
"My thanks," the half-orc said as he got to his feet. Morier clearing his throat and getting to his own feet at the same time, gave Feln pause.
"Although my timing may seem odd given Windstryder's recent choices, I would like you all to know that you have all quickly become the most solemn brethren of one who once considered himself a solitary warrior," Morier told the group. "I am proud to fight beside any of you, any time."
"Well said, my boy," Lord Arundel agreed, applauding Morier's brief speech. "We will hold a feast in your honor on Starday. We will commemorate then your rescue of our Gift of the Star as well as the salvation of Barnacus and her people! It will be grand. It shall be known as the Festival of..." He paused, looking strangely at Ledare and asked, "What is it your group is called?"
Ledare thought for a moment and then let out a single melancholy chuckle. "When we set out from Barnacus, we were The Grey Company," she mused. "But I think that I'm the only member of that group left."
"Well," Lord Arundel said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You'll need to come up with a name by Starday that we can properly name the festival!"
Over the next several days, the group attended to various personal activities.
Feln threw himself fully into the task of forging some shurikens. He spent nearly every waking moment at the village forge asking questions of the Gellir and the town smith, Alfgar Strongarm and pounding away at misshapen lumps of metal.
His first day's effort was very encouraging, and he had successfully divided the metal into properly weighted metal disks, but he made little progress on Earthday, and was forced to melt them down and start again. On Freeday, disaster struck and he somehow managed to spoil his supply of raw materials. Cursing and spitting, he threw the ruined bits of hot slag into the field behind the smithy.
"I can sneak into the most protected castle, still a king's heart and be gone before his kingdom notices but I CANNOT CRAFT A SIMPLE STAR!" he bellowed to the heavens and Gellir seemed to take great joy in seeing the half-orc's failure.
Ixin, who had the least to do in town, arranged the sale of her books with Morier's father in exchange for some magical knickknacks. He offered to sell her some warcaster's armor that had once belonged to ap-Llewellyn's former adventuring companion, Arraramosh Battlecaster. She then visited Wulfric the Tanner on the outskirts of town to acquire a leather jerking that could be worn over the top of her chainmail bikini and would not interfere with her vestigial wings. She was quoted a price that dropped precipitously after she removed her cloak for the tanner to take measurements. That night Wulfric ate dinner unable to look his wife, Hilde, in the eye and went to bed with intrusive thoughts of voluptuously-scaled flesh in his head.
Morier was at ease amongst the familiar surrounding of Hillville Junction. It was the only place where he had felt joy and warmth and so he spent much of his time with his old friends Malcom and Arwold Wyverneye, who, while still as weak as a kitten, was out of any life-threatening danger. They spoke of many things - the happenings around the village chief among them - and Malcolm warned Morier that a fellow druid from the Riverneck region had warned him of strange, mutated beasts seen in the forests around Shrouded Lake. Now, it seemed that Malcolm would have a similar tale to tell of the forests around Hillville Junction. On Freeday, Morier gave in to his father's constant urgings and sat down with quill and ink. He spent the day scribing a scroll to augment his rather limited spell-casting abilities.
Vade, true to his nomadic heritage, found himself here, there, and everywhere within the village. He visited Cormac's House of Wondrous Goods and Services on numerous occasions and became passably good friends with the owner, Henna the Wise. Like Rherram in Strenchburg Junction, she had a variety of mundane healing supplies for sale, although no true magical draughts. That she left to Angwyn ap-Llewellyn and Orderbringer Maerwynn. The halfling, of course, made the acquaintance of both purveyors of magical potions. In addition to buying minor magic, he paid the wizard to identify three items that he had been using for a while without really knowing what they were. It seemed that he had come into possession of a Freedom of Movement Ring, minor Bracers of Armor, and a Wand of Regenerate Moderate Wounds. Vade was truly excited about the first two items, but when he found out that the wand was druidic in nature, he frowned. "Shoot! I thought it would be some cool toy I could use," he sulked, although he was already determined to focus his attention on learning to manipulate the wand, regardless of its intended users.
Angwyn ap-Llewellyn had no use for either the bracers of the wand, but offered a fair price to take the ring off of the halfling's hands (so to speak). For his part, Vade was gracious and promised to think about the offer. And, although it pained him greatly, he refused to give in to his desire to "pick up" a few things from the wizard's workshop. His brother had once been turned into a frog for a time, after all, and Vade didn't fancy eating flies if he didn't have to. So he put his people skills to work organizing a friendly unarmed combat competition that he had Feln had dreamed up. It was to be held the morning of the feast and the prize of 100 gold nobles was enough to draw the interest of every farmer and would-be warrior from the neighboring countryside
Ledare divided her time between martial and studious pursuits. She was subjected to frequent fittings for the breastplate that Gellir and Strongarm were crafting for her. The armor was beautiful, but it was taking longer than Gellir had thought it would, so by nightfall on Freeday, he announced with some embarrassment that it would be at least two more days before the breastplate was finished. He blamed much of the delay on Feln and his incessant questions.
When she wasn't at the forge, Ledare was either struggling through the stilted rhetoric of "The Trials of Decay" or acquainting herself with Draelond's bastard sword, Ravager. When she first began practicing with the huge blade, she was forced to swing it two-handed, and even then she dug furrows in the earth with the tip of the blade and found herself thrown off balance by the weapon. But by the afternoon on Earthday, she was wielding the sword easily in one hand, and by Freeday, her skill with the saw-toothed weapon easily matched her ability with her familiar longsword.
She learned much in the three days spent with the book and determined that given another three days she would likely have all of its mysteries revealed. From the tightly packed prose, she culled the following facts:
The day dawned hot with little wind to offer relief. But there was no sign of rain and the light from Orin's Shield promised a fine day for the festival to honor the companions. Lord Adundel had arranged for a fighting circle to be marked out on the village green and Aldwin the Silent had taken time away from repairing those buildings damaged by the bug men's raid to build a small set of raised bleachers to one side. Tancred the Stout was up bright and early rolling barrels of his best ale down to the commons and by the time that the companions arrived, a large group of villagers had already come to enroll in the fighting contest.
Among them were Black Dougal and Drogo Ravenot, both seasoned human soldiers who had retired young to Hillville Junction. And, despite the fact that Black Dougal had developed quite a gut after retiring and Ravenot spent most of his waking hours drinking himself into a stupor in the Greenbriar Inn, if one of the companions did not take home the 100 gp purse then it was assumed by all that one of the two ex-soldiers would.
That is until the dwarf made his way from the direction of the smithy. He stopped at the front of the crowd and surveyed the assemblage with an appraising eye. He was a squat, powerfully-built dwarf with his beard neatly braided upon his stout chest. His arms rested on the head of his war axe, its handle planted firmly between his iron-shod boots. His gaze tracked through the crowd, finally coming to rest on Feln. His face was an expressionless mask while cold gray eyes studied the half orc from beneath bristling blonde eyebrows.
"Now that there is an ugly one," he grunted quietly before raising his voice and stamping his axe haft on the ground. "Ye may as well go back to yer homes, humies! Karak, son of Kignar will be takin' home yer prize this day!"
Feln hung his head for a moment. He hadn't counted many as his friend since the fall of the Brotherhood, and Windstryder had been such a one. It left him saddened and angry all at the same time, so he focused on the empty plate before him while he wrestled back the violent emotions that were part of his orcish heritage. The others were similarly quiet, though for reasons of their own. Even Lord Arundel busied himself muttering to his aid about the contents of Windstryder's message.
"What's going on here?" Ledare said at last. Her voice sounded very loud in the quiet hall.
"What d'ye mean, lassie?" Gellir growled, picking at his teeth with the nail of his little finger.
"I mean her praise was nice and all that, but I certainly hope there isn't more to this," she explained, looking at each of her remaining companions. "Does anyone else suspect foul play?"
"Windstryder had her reasons for leaving the group, Ledare," Ixin assured the half-elf. "Her mission and ours are not the same at this point, that's all."
"I do see why she would want to follow the bird, but I doubt that she could keep up with it," Vade added with a shrug of his slim shoulders. "I mean, how can she hope to follow so quickly? Unless I am missing something."
"Windstryder is capable of great feats of endurance when she wishes," Feln muttered. "I have seen her run tirelessly long after my own reserves have failed me. She may not be as fast as the bird, but if the creature rests on its journey she will make up the distance."
"Then perhaps we will meet again further south," Ixin said optimistically. She winked surreptitiously at Vade and added, "I hope so, as she was a valiant warrior." Vade rolled his eyes at this characterization of someone he considered to be more of an annoyance than a help.
"So, do we just carry on while Windstryder does what she has to do?" Ledare asked the group and there were nods all around.
"I do not see how her decision can change ours, Ledare," Ixin offered. "We must head south. Ultimately, in my opinion, to Myth Drannor."
"That's a really long way," Vade said. "At least I think it is."
"It's in Pellham," Ledare told him. "Six moonsdances of hard travel at the least."
"What if we use the portal?" the halfling asked and then thought about returning to The Devourer's dark cave and gave a little shudder.
"Perhaps," Ledare said and her expression told Vade that she didn't wish to discuss all of this in front of Lord Arundel and Gellir.
"I am also concerned about the location of this Andamacles, as clearly he is responsible for war mongering," Ixin added and Ledare nodded.
"Andamacles is dead," she told the mage. "With my own eyes I saw him laid low by a dwarf some moonsdances ago. So unless he's returned from the dead, we have nothing to fear from him." Gellir made the sign of the evil eye and spit on the floor.
"Best nae ta speak thus o' the dead, lassie," he told her. "Lady Death nae be likin' it when the Gaurdian o' the Gate loses one o' her charges."
"So assuming that Ledare is right," Ixin went on, "we still have to focus our attention southward. I do not see how we can possibly do more locally than we have already done, except to leave the money we do not spend, as Feln has suggested."
"A donation to the manorial coffers?" Lord Arundel perked up at once. "You are truly an honorable group and I will see that Ranger Windstryder's recommendations for each of you is sent with all haste to the capital!" He nodded to his steward and the man began to rush off.
"My lord," Feln began awkwardly, "I would send along a message for Windstryder with her report, if I might. So that she knows of our plans and how to rejoin us if that is her decision."
"Certainly," Lord Arundel replied and motioned for Feln to accompany the departing servant. "My steward will happily scribe your message before sending the report off to Barnacus."
"My thanks," the half-orc said as he got to his feet. Morier clearing his throat and getting to his own feet at the same time, gave Feln pause.
"Although my timing may seem odd given Windstryder's recent choices, I would like you all to know that you have all quickly become the most solemn brethren of one who once considered himself a solitary warrior," Morier told the group. "I am proud to fight beside any of you, any time."
"Well said, my boy," Lord Arundel agreed, applauding Morier's brief speech. "We will hold a feast in your honor on Starday. We will commemorate then your rescue of our Gift of the Star as well as the salvation of Barnacus and her people! It will be grand. It shall be known as the Festival of..." He paused, looking strangely at Ledare and asked, "What is it your group is called?"
Ledare thought for a moment and then let out a single melancholy chuckle. "When we set out from Barnacus, we were The Grey Company," she mused. "But I think that I'm the only member of that group left."
"Well," Lord Arundel said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You'll need to come up with a name by Starday that we can properly name the festival!"
Waterday, the 14th - Freeday, the 16th of Wealsun, 1269 AE
Over the next several days, the group attended to various personal activities.
Feln threw himself fully into the task of forging some shurikens. He spent nearly every waking moment at the village forge asking questions of the Gellir and the town smith, Alfgar Strongarm and pounding away at misshapen lumps of metal.
His first day's effort was very encouraging, and he had successfully divided the metal into properly weighted metal disks, but he made little progress on Earthday, and was forced to melt them down and start again. On Freeday, disaster struck and he somehow managed to spoil his supply of raw materials. Cursing and spitting, he threw the ruined bits of hot slag into the field behind the smithy.
"I can sneak into the most protected castle, still a king's heart and be gone before his kingdom notices but I CANNOT CRAFT A SIMPLE STAR!" he bellowed to the heavens and Gellir seemed to take great joy in seeing the half-orc's failure.
Ixin, who had the least to do in town, arranged the sale of her books with Morier's father in exchange for some magical knickknacks. He offered to sell her some warcaster's armor that had once belonged to ap-Llewellyn's former adventuring companion, Arraramosh Battlecaster. She then visited Wulfric the Tanner on the outskirts of town to acquire a leather jerking that could be worn over the top of her chainmail bikini and would not interfere with her vestigial wings. She was quoted a price that dropped precipitously after she removed her cloak for the tanner to take measurements. That night Wulfric ate dinner unable to look his wife, Hilde, in the eye and went to bed with intrusive thoughts of voluptuously-scaled flesh in his head.
Morier was at ease amongst the familiar surrounding of Hillville Junction. It was the only place where he had felt joy and warmth and so he spent much of his time with his old friends Malcom and Arwold Wyverneye, who, while still as weak as a kitten, was out of any life-threatening danger. They spoke of many things - the happenings around the village chief among them - and Malcolm warned Morier that a fellow druid from the Riverneck region had warned him of strange, mutated beasts seen in the forests around Shrouded Lake. Now, it seemed that Malcolm would have a similar tale to tell of the forests around Hillville Junction. On Freeday, Morier gave in to his father's constant urgings and sat down with quill and ink. He spent the day scribing a scroll to augment his rather limited spell-casting abilities.
Vade, true to his nomadic heritage, found himself here, there, and everywhere within the village. He visited Cormac's House of Wondrous Goods and Services on numerous occasions and became passably good friends with the owner, Henna the Wise. Like Rherram in Strenchburg Junction, she had a variety of mundane healing supplies for sale, although no true magical draughts. That she left to Angwyn ap-Llewellyn and Orderbringer Maerwynn. The halfling, of course, made the acquaintance of both purveyors of magical potions. In addition to buying minor magic, he paid the wizard to identify three items that he had been using for a while without really knowing what they were. It seemed that he had come into possession of a Freedom of Movement Ring, minor Bracers of Armor, and a Wand of Regenerate Moderate Wounds. Vade was truly excited about the first two items, but when he found out that the wand was druidic in nature, he frowned. "Shoot! I thought it would be some cool toy I could use," he sulked, although he was already determined to focus his attention on learning to manipulate the wand, regardless of its intended users.
Angwyn ap-Llewellyn had no use for either the bracers of the wand, but offered a fair price to take the ring off of the halfling's hands (so to speak). For his part, Vade was gracious and promised to think about the offer. And, although it pained him greatly, he refused to give in to his desire to "pick up" a few things from the wizard's workshop. His brother had once been turned into a frog for a time, after all, and Vade didn't fancy eating flies if he didn't have to. So he put his people skills to work organizing a friendly unarmed combat competition that he had Feln had dreamed up. It was to be held the morning of the feast and the prize of 100 gold nobles was enough to draw the interest of every farmer and would-be warrior from the neighboring countryside
Ledare divided her time between martial and studious pursuits. She was subjected to frequent fittings for the breastplate that Gellir and Strongarm were crafting for her. The armor was beautiful, but it was taking longer than Gellir had thought it would, so by nightfall on Freeday, he announced with some embarrassment that it would be at least two more days before the breastplate was finished. He blamed much of the delay on Feln and his incessant questions.
When she wasn't at the forge, Ledare was either struggling through the stilted rhetoric of "The Trials of Decay" or acquainting herself with Draelond's bastard sword, Ravager. When she first began practicing with the huge blade, she was forced to swing it two-handed, and even then she dug furrows in the earth with the tip of the blade and found herself thrown off balance by the weapon. But by the afternoon on Earthday, she was wielding the sword easily in one hand, and by Freeday, her skill with the saw-toothed weapon easily matched her ability with her familiar longsword.
She learned much in the three days spent with the book and determined that given another three days she would likely have all of its mysteries revealed. From the tightly packed prose, she culled the following facts:
"The headquarters for the priesthood of Aphyx, as well as for its military order, the Unholy Order of Defilers, was a huge fortress-temple in the Altan Tepe Mountains known as Deathshead. From within the bowels of Deathshead the Plaguebringers used a powerful artifact called the Tapestry of Passage to bring forth all manner of demons from their Goddess' plane into the world to serve their cause. So for many years the cult of Aphyx held sway over the lands of Oerune and brought chaos and misery to all who lived there. To help ensure that her Plaguebringers would remain in power, Aphyx created a magical artifact called the Rod of Ruin, and bestowed it upon the high priest Melengar. Imbued with a portion of the goddess's essence, the rod granted Melengar a vast array of abilities and powers which he wielded in the service of Aphyx for many years.
For Flor and her followers, the future held little promise until help came from a very unexpected source. The twin gods of nature, Dridana and Brogine, who normally held themselves aloof from the machination of the gods of humanity, secretly approached Flor with an offer of aid. The depredations of Aphyx's followers, while initially confined to the humanoid races, had begun to affect the natural order. Animals were being slaughtered in large numbers for sport or sacrifice, lakes and waterways were becoming fouled, and large tracts of land were being laid waste for no purpose other than to spread chaos and destruction. So the gods of nature had decided to break their long-standing policy of neutrality and join with Flor to overthrow the forces of Aphyx and restore the balance of power. In return for their help, they demanded that Flor allow them to recruit from the ranks of her remaining priests, a new order of human worshippers dedicated to the preservation of the natural order. Flor agreed to the proposition and the three powers began their campaign.
Initially, there was little visible progress made against Aphyx's dominance. Dridana and Brogine began to convert worshippers of Flor to their cause, and as the ranks of this new order grew, so did the power and knowledge of these new priests, who took the appellation of "Druid". While Aphyx was inexorably linked to her divine rival in ways that would alert her to any growth in Flor's power, she was unaware of the quietly growing power of Dridana and Brogine. And so when the gods of nature unleashed their forces, the cult of Aphyx was taken completely by surprise. As the war began to rage between the Druids and the cult of Aphyx, the goddess of decay was forced to focus her attention on this new, unforeseen threat to her power. Taking advantage of her adversary's distraction, Flor was able to begin to rebuild her own priesthood which in turn began to gather together worshippers and the goddess's strength was slowly restored.
The ensuing conflict between Aphyx's forces and those of Dridana, Brogine and Flor was long and chaotic. Neither side commanded a large, organized army and so the war was characterized by seemingly unending skirmishes, forays, raids and guerrilla attacks. As the conflict between these religious orders intensified, the evil Plaguebringers of Aphyx found themselves losing ground to those who had united against them. High priest Melengar soon realized that he needed to augment his own forces somehow, and so devised a plan to take control of the kingdom of Erlacor and Lord Wulfhun's army. His followers succeeded in infiltrating Wulfhun castle and in one dark and evil evening, killed the entire Wulfhun family and made of their deaths an offering to the goddess of disease. Aphyx responded by taking unto herself one of her male followers and begetting of him an avatar of great power who would come to be called Zagaroth, the Despoiler. Through the power of Aphyx, Zagaroth was born full into his power and strength and was placed upon the throne of Erlacor with the high priest Melengar acting as his spiritual advisor.
With the army of Erlacor under Zagaroth's control, who in turn acted under the direction of Melengar, the tide of the conflict once again turned in their favor for a time. Zagaroth however, was not content to simply wage war against Melengar's enemies, and sought to expand his own power as well. He engaged in repeated and successful campaigns of conquest against his neighboring states and inexorably the avatar's territory and influence grew."
For Flor and her followers, the future held little promise until help came from a very unexpected source. The twin gods of nature, Dridana and Brogine, who normally held themselves aloof from the machination of the gods of humanity, secretly approached Flor with an offer of aid. The depredations of Aphyx's followers, while initially confined to the humanoid races, had begun to affect the natural order. Animals were being slaughtered in large numbers for sport or sacrifice, lakes and waterways were becoming fouled, and large tracts of land were being laid waste for no purpose other than to spread chaos and destruction. So the gods of nature had decided to break their long-standing policy of neutrality and join with Flor to overthrow the forces of Aphyx and restore the balance of power. In return for their help, they demanded that Flor allow them to recruit from the ranks of her remaining priests, a new order of human worshippers dedicated to the preservation of the natural order. Flor agreed to the proposition and the three powers began their campaign.
Initially, there was little visible progress made against Aphyx's dominance. Dridana and Brogine began to convert worshippers of Flor to their cause, and as the ranks of this new order grew, so did the power and knowledge of these new priests, who took the appellation of "Druid". While Aphyx was inexorably linked to her divine rival in ways that would alert her to any growth in Flor's power, she was unaware of the quietly growing power of Dridana and Brogine. And so when the gods of nature unleashed their forces, the cult of Aphyx was taken completely by surprise. As the war began to rage between the Druids and the cult of Aphyx, the goddess of decay was forced to focus her attention on this new, unforeseen threat to her power. Taking advantage of her adversary's distraction, Flor was able to begin to rebuild her own priesthood which in turn began to gather together worshippers and the goddess's strength was slowly restored.
The ensuing conflict between Aphyx's forces and those of Dridana, Brogine and Flor was long and chaotic. Neither side commanded a large, organized army and so the war was characterized by seemingly unending skirmishes, forays, raids and guerrilla attacks. As the conflict between these religious orders intensified, the evil Plaguebringers of Aphyx found themselves losing ground to those who had united against them. High priest Melengar soon realized that he needed to augment his own forces somehow, and so devised a plan to take control of the kingdom of Erlacor and Lord Wulfhun's army. His followers succeeded in infiltrating Wulfhun castle and in one dark and evil evening, killed the entire Wulfhun family and made of their deaths an offering to the goddess of disease. Aphyx responded by taking unto herself one of her male followers and begetting of him an avatar of great power who would come to be called Zagaroth, the Despoiler. Through the power of Aphyx, Zagaroth was born full into his power and strength and was placed upon the throne of Erlacor with the high priest Melengar acting as his spiritual advisor.
With the army of Erlacor under Zagaroth's control, who in turn acted under the direction of Melengar, the tide of the conflict once again turned in their favor for a time. Zagaroth however, was not content to simply wage war against Melengar's enemies, and sought to expand his own power as well. He engaged in repeated and successful campaigns of conquest against his neighboring states and inexorably the avatar's territory and influence grew."
Starday the 16th of Wealsun, 1269 AE
The day dawned hot with little wind to offer relief. But there was no sign of rain and the light from Orin's Shield promised a fine day for the festival to honor the companions. Lord Adundel had arranged for a fighting circle to be marked out on the village green and Aldwin the Silent had taken time away from repairing those buildings damaged by the bug men's raid to build a small set of raised bleachers to one side. Tancred the Stout was up bright and early rolling barrels of his best ale down to the commons and by the time that the companions arrived, a large group of villagers had already come to enroll in the fighting contest.
Among them were Black Dougal and Drogo Ravenot, both seasoned human soldiers who had retired young to Hillville Junction. And, despite the fact that Black Dougal had developed quite a gut after retiring and Ravenot spent most of his waking hours drinking himself into a stupor in the Greenbriar Inn, if one of the companions did not take home the 100 gp purse then it was assumed by all that one of the two ex-soldiers would.
That is until the dwarf made his way from the direction of the smithy. He stopped at the front of the crowd and surveyed the assemblage with an appraising eye. He was a squat, powerfully-built dwarf with his beard neatly braided upon his stout chest. His arms rested on the head of his war axe, its handle planted firmly between his iron-shod boots. His gaze tracked through the crowd, finally coming to rest on Feln. His face was an expressionless mask while cold gray eyes studied the half orc from beneath bristling blonde eyebrows.
"Now that there is an ugly one," he grunted quietly before raising his voice and stamping his axe haft on the ground. "Ye may as well go back to yer homes, humies! Karak, son of Kignar will be takin' home yer prize this day!"
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