Veils and Crossings (was: Shadow over Felthera) - StalkingBlue's Midnight game

[StalkingBlue]

Part One: Shadow over Felthera



Felthera Valley, Central Erenland, Year 99 of the Last Age.

It is late spring. Four days ago, a band of Sarcosan riders known as "Than's band" for its former freerider leader was overrun and slaughtered in camp by a large force of Dark Mother orcs.

Since then, three survivors have been fleeing north on foot from a group of unusually tenacious orc pursuers. On the afternoon of the fourth day, they are drawing near Felthera River, which they hope to cross bringing them into territory controlled by Mother-of-Blood orcs - but their hunters are closing in ...

The sub-group of PCs for this first session:

Zana Than (S'mon), until recently rider with her father's Sarcosan outlaw band, Erenlander Ftr1
Loren, Erethor scribe and scholar, Wood Elf Chn1
Jarod (Zoskia), Felthera Valley siege engineer, Erenlander Dfd1



---

EDIT: PC list as of 23rd May 2004:

Zana Than, Butt-Kickin' Sarcosan Warrior Princess, Erenlander Ftr6 (played by S'mon)
Keeran, Erethor hunter and courier, Tane's brother, Erenlander Rog2/Ftr2 (played by Tallarn)
Apari Ghostwalker, Erethor scout and healer, Jungle Elf Chn3/Wld2
Pallas Elinor, southern plains drifter and lone wolf, Erenlander Ftr5
Katrin Baden, northern crusader, Erenlander Ftr5 (played by randomling)

 

[StalkingBlue]

By S'mon, Zana's player:


Zana's Story

As dawn glimmered in the east, Zana Than sat cross-legged in the dirt, cleaning the iron breastplate she'd looted from the orc champion earlier that day. There was an expression of intense concentration in her large brown eyes, her smooth brow slightly furrowed. The long steel blade of her bastard sword lay close by her right thigh, always within easy reach. Occasionally she glanced over at her companions, the martial artist Jarod and the elven spellcaster Loren. She frowned slightly. Her comrades in arms seemed rather ineffectual, although the elf's rainbow-spray spell was undoubtedly effective against the orcs. Unfortunately it had not availed him so well against the Hungry Man, the ghoul-thing on the rotting barge had almost taken his life.
Zana glanced up to the starry Riding-Host, the Riders on their vast Sky-Plain now fading in the coming sun-light of the new day. Zana liked to think sometimes she could see her father up there amidst the Host, galloping his destrier forever across the endless deep.

**Father, tell me what I should do.**

Idly, she thought back to the events of the previous day. The orcs had pursued them for days, ever since the ambush and destruction of her outlaw band. She and two survivors - Jarod and the newcomer Loren - had fled northwards towards the river, the orcs it seemed ever-gaining. Beyond it lay more orcs - but they were of the northern tribe, the Mother of Blood, her father's slayers and to her mind the worst of all orc-kind. The southern orcs were unlikely to cross the river in pursuit.
Yesterday the three fugitives had reached the river at last - Loren had promised a ford, a way across, but instead there was only the great river and an ancient barge, on which a man moved. At least, she had thought it was a man…

Zana grimaced at the thought of how she had offered the Hungry Man her winter blanket for safe passage across the river. Instead, the ghoul wanted their flesh. Loren had struck it with his Colour Spray - useless against those already dead. The Hungry Man had grabbed him then, almost ripped the little elf apart and dashed him against the barge's rotten boards. Zana's struck fast - her first blow split it to midriff, but seemed only to annoy the brute. Horror took hold of her then, but she couldn't abandon the elf, and repeated blows into flesh that didn't bleed at last hacked the undead monster down. Then they had cast off in the barge, only for it to immediately sink midstream, as the orc horde arrived on the near shore.
So Zana and Jarod had had to swim for the far shore, supporting the unconscious elf, while orcish javelins pattered around them. At last they reached the far side and the cover of the long grass. They pressed on, and eventually after resting a few hours Loren recovered consciousness and was able to heal his wounds. Healing magic - a useful talent. Definitely worth keeping the elf alive.

In the grasslands that night they encountered a band of feral halflings - Jarod's ineffectual attempts to capture one did not go well. but at least Loren was able to communicate with the child-like creatures. Loren then declared a change of plan - he had received a 'sending' from his fellow elves and instead of continuing north, the party would return south-west, recross that damned river, and rendezvous with his companions. It seemed a foolish plan, but Zana reluctantly agreed.

So back south-west they had trekked, before camping a little short of the river. That was when, with Loren on guard, the orcs had found them. Just two of them, but one she knew was their leader from the river, and just like the Hungry Man it seemed intent on ripping Loren apart. Fortunately though, this time the elf's magic was more effective - his colour spray blasted one orc into unconsciousness (edit: who Loren swiftly killed, though not before it had felled Jarod). The Uruk leader, blinded and stunned, was easy meat for Zana. His breastplate, while filthy, was intact and promised much better protection than her scanty leathers. However, it would also slow her down, which made her reluctant to wear it until they were past the river.

Her cleaning finished, Zana began to gather her gear, then paused. Taking a piece of chalk from her belt pouch, she carefully made two white marks on the battered wood of her shield.. One for the Hungry Man, one for the orc Champion. Zana promised, there would be many more to come.

 

[StalkingBlue]

Around the same time, another sole survivor from the attack on Than's band has made her way northwest and crossed Felthera in a safer place. She is hungry and tired and needs a forge to smooth a dent out of her blade ...

The sole PC for this session:

Jezzan Hest (randomling), weaponsmith from Hamra, Erenlander Ftr1


Jez's background, by randomling:

Appearance and personality:
Jezzan – Jez, to most everyone that knows her – is tall and broad, with green eyes and fair hair cut short rather haphazardly. She’s bulky and square of jaw, but she moves with surprising quickness and there is a glint of intelligence in the green eyes. Jez loves company and can spend hours just talking – but she is nervous and restless, and finds endless planning difficult when she sees the opportunity for swift action. She’s quick to do most things, be it swing a sword or decide that she likes somebody, and is particularly quick to anger.

Background and motivation:
Jez was born in Hamra to a trading family. Her rash ways occasionally brought her into conflict with the wrong people as a child, and after her older brother was killed by an orc for carrying a weapon she decided she was going to fight back. Two years ago, when she was 15, her parents and her two sisters died of an illness which she managed to escape. She ran away from the city and joined up with an outlaw band, but their first venture ended in disaster and the group were scattered.

A person with reason to aid me is my one remaining brother, Aris, a tradesman who’s married with three kids of his own. Like me he knows how to make weapons and armour, but he makes his living as a blacksmith. He’ll always provide me with sanctuary if I need it.

A person with reason to hate me is Tharn, the orc that killed my brother. I was there that day, and Tharn gave me a severe beating. Somewhere in the muddle I picked up my brother’s knife and stabbed Tharn, but though he was too incapacitated to follow me he survived. I ran away, but he’s had a grudge against me ever since.

 

[StalkingBlue]

By randomling, Jezz's player:

Jez's Story: Part One

I’ve been walking for days when I come upon the village.

The outlaw group wasn’t very successful. We were camped when the orcs came, and I’m pretty sure nobody else survived – the only souvenir I was left with is a nasty dent in my sword. I ran out of food days ago – so when I see the village, the first thing I think about is finding something to eat. The second thing I think about is a forge.

It’s a tiny village - only about ten houses - surrounded by fields which haven’t been tended and vegetable patches that are running to seed. It’s late afternoon, and the village seems completely deserted. Doors are closed, windows shuttered. Large and prominent is the village’s forge, with a house attached.

I cross the empty fields and deserted village. The forge seems to be abandoned. There’s no fire in the furnace, and the remains of the previous one have been left there. There’s a horrible sweet smell of decay. I take a quick look around the forge and the adjoined house; then I grab some firewood and water, clean out the remains of the old fire, and set about fixing my sword. The minute I start hammering, there’s an awful rattling sound and a man jumps down from the roof into the forge.

He’s, well, dead. Dead, rotten, and mumbling something incoherent. Without a second thought I grab my sword off the anvil and charge at him. He hits me once – hard – but I’m faster, and I fell him with my second blow. I immediately hack his head off, and I’m grabbing a handful of firewood to burn the corpse when doors start to open around the village.

Thinking I’m about to be swarmed by the undead, I drop the firewood in a panic and flee the village, hurtling at top speed up the dirt track and on my way. It takes me a few minutes to think of the vegetable patches, and the food that might be in the village. As it starts to get dark I turn around and head back, feeling rather sheepish and trying my best to keep out of sight. As I approach the village I notice an incandescent glow. Coming closer, I realize what’s happening: the villagers have come out to burn the corpse of the man that must have been the blacksmith.

I come closer, not trying to hide any more. A villager catches sight of me, and a warning cry goes out. The whole crowd scatters back into houses. I try talking to the one guy left outside, but he flees. I try knocking on a random door, but there’s no answer.

It's clear from the way the villagers looked that they don't have any food, so I think better of raiding their vegetable patches in the end. I head back to the blacksmith's house and find some mouldy dried sausages - cut the mould off them and eat.

After my meager meal, I retreat to the fields, around 200 yards from the houses, to get my night’s rest. The night passes peacefully, and I wake up hungry and cold, as I have grown accustomed to.

In the morning, I go back to the village, where I see villagers gathered once again. As soon as one of them sees me, another cry goes up and the villagers disappear. Shrugging, I let them go, and head for the forge. This time around I have the presence of mind to hop up on the stack of firewood and check the forge roof for monsters. There’s nothing lurking up there. I light up the furnace again and start work on my sword.

The work goes well. I manage to fix my sword admirably. As the day goes on I notice doors opening a crack and faces peering out. I decide not to try to talk to any of the villagers unless they approach me, as they clearly need time to get accustomed to my presence. Eventually, a very old woman appears, brandishing a shovel that’s split down the middle. She holds it out as a weapon at first – then, as she comes close enough, offers it to me. I put my hand on it.

“Breathe on me,” she says. I oblige, and she seems to relax. She tells me her son wouldn’t bring me the shovel, and that she wants me to fix it. In return, she will put me up for the night. “But don’t expect any food,” she warns me, “I don’t have any.” Her name is Halda. I tell her mine, and she says she’s pleased to meet me.

I try to fix the shovel. It takes me longer than it should. As I work, a few more people bring me things to mend, and with them, scraps of food. I accept the food and the work gratefully… and at the end of a long day, turn up at Halda’s house for my first night indoors in many days.

 

[StalkingBlue]

And finally, two Erenlander couriers are making their way back towards Erethor along the north bank of Felthera ...

New PCs

Keeran (Tallarn), Erethor hunter and courier, Tane's brother, Erenlander Rog1
Tane, Erethor bowyer and courier, Keeran's brother, Erenlander Rog1


Keeran's background, by Tallarn:

Keeran is a somewhat miserable, pessimistic, intolerant sort of fellow. He's been running as a courier with his brother Tane for a while now, and has recently fallen in with a small group of other freedom fighters.

He doesn't have that high an opinion of them, however. Mostly he reckons if everyone was like him, they could have avoided all this fighting and running around and drawing the Shadow's forces onto them with magic and so on.

Although he also recognises that if he and Tane had encountered those orcs the other night without the others around, they would have been dead. So a grudging respect is starting to come about. Not that he'd ever let them know.

Keeran prefers to attack either at distance, or with surprise. He's got no desire to stand and fight toe to toe with anyone, as he has this strong aversion to getting stabbed. However, he intends to hang on to the twin daggers he currently owns, and would very much like to stab some more orcs with them before whatever fate that is awaiting him strikes.

 

[StalkingBlue]

By S'mon, Zana's player:

Zana's Story - Part 2

As Zana Than cleaned the Krenshar blood off her father's sword, she looked over at the other members of her party, now enlarged to six. They were starting to come together as a fighting team - they had better come together, if they were ever to survive to reach the western forests.

On the morning after the battle that had gained her the breastplate, she had been sleeping with Loren on guard, when a group of three discovered their camp. Fortunately they were Jes, a warrior-woman from Zana's own outlaw band, and her two companions Keeran and Tane, scouts whom Zana had seen act as couriers for the outlaws in the past. Zana was greatly relieved to see Jes had survived, for she was a skilful fighter and her fluid style complemented Zana's own rather stolid approach to battle. The scouts would likely prove useful also, but they weren't warriors and would need careful looking after if they were to stay alive long enough to prove their worth.

Following the Sending Loren had received, the party reached and recrossed the river that morning, some way east of a gnome landing-site where Keeran had scouted the riverbank and returned to report several orc galleys heading west, filled with hundreds of orcs, war drums pounding. Their actual crossing, several miles downriver, was uneventful, although Keeran had spotted a large cat apparently shadowing them. On its second appearance a chill had gripped Zana's heart, for she knew what it could portend - the Legates' Mage-Hunters, could sense any use of magics such as Loren employed, and could take the bodies of beasts to aid them hunt down spellcasters…

A few hours south of the river, Zana's fears had been realised. A hawk had been spotted, hovering above them and following their progress across the bleakly empty southern plains, where not even a scrub bush broke the monotony of the rolling grasslands.

They were following a long dell with ridgelines to east and west, when the Legate and his orcs attacked over the western ridgeline. Zana threw a javelin, drawing her sword. To her right though most of her group seemed to freeze, paralysed in indecision and fear. The Legate was a human male, mounted on a black horse and armoured with splintmail and shield. Her skin crawled at the sight of the Shadow-priest, for what he represented - the Dark God's ambassador to the world…

As he advanced he spoke words of power that caused Keeran to flee in terror, while the orc javelins rained down on the group. One struck Keeran in the back, and he fell. To her right she saw more of her companions struck, but Zana's armour and shield protected her - she raised her sword and charged towards the Legate, but she was slower in her new, heavy armour, and two orcs barred the way. Yelling a warcry Zana struck viciously and cut down one with a single powerful blow, then traded strikes with the second orc. Jes came to her aid, and she knew the orc couldn't last long… then a wave of horror gripped her, impelling her to flee! It was the Legate, his foul magic, gift of the Shadow… somehow she managed to resist. Jes wounded the orc, though injured herself, and it at last crumpled under Zana's repeated blows. She turned to see the Legate spur his horse, disappearing back over the ridgeline.

Behind her, her companions were faring less well. Several had been badly wounded - it looked to her that both Keeran and Jarod had been felled, but Loren was employing his healing magics to keep them from death's door.

**That elf is definitely worth his weight, even if he does bring the Legates down on us!**

Working together, Zana and Jes charged the nearest orc, but it was one of Tane's arrows in the back that felled it. Breathing heavily, Zana looked around - the battle had ended for now, with four orcs dead or dying. Thanks to Loren all her companions were on their feet, though some the worse for wear. Zana herself was unharmed. Quickly assessing the situation, she grasped another javelin and ran uphill, after the Legate.

From the brow of the rise, Zana spotted the Legate and two more orcs approaching from some distance away, beyond throwing range. Zana snarled furious oaths at them as they advanced, throwing a javelin at extreme range. It bounced off an orc's iron-scale hauberk. Still, the enemy did what she wanted, advancing uphill to attack. She drew her sword again, but it was Loren who appeared behind her and rushed the orcs, yelling now familiar words of power. The Colour Spray leapt from his hands, and both orcs collapsed. Zana smiled grimly - the Legate had severely underestimated his prey, this time…

To her right on the ridge, Tane was firing his bow at the Legate, and Jes and Zana bounded downhill towards him. In her light armour Jes was much faster, but Zana sprinted forwards, trying to get behind him and cut off his retreat. It didn't work, though - he reared his horse up in Jes's face, turned and galloped away westwards, leaving Zana out of breath and glowering angrily after him.

Still, the battle was won - six orcs dead, two more chalk marks for her shield… To the west they could see an ox-drawn wagon with a large cage, which most likely the Legate had been hoping to fill with captives. The Legate was most likely heading for the nearest orc fortress to summon reinforcements. Zana had initially wanted to press on towards the Pass-stone where Loren said the Sending originated, but for once wiser counsel prevailed - Tane convinced her that these open plains were a killing ground for the Shadow's forces hunting them. Their best hope was to return north, crossing the river yet again, and make for the western forests…

So, back they headed, yet again. Jarod and Loren were practically dropping from exhaustion. Zana was feeling a little light-headed from lack of sleep, but she had always been a tough one and it didn't show much. Back to the river - this time Jarod and Loren needed to be helped across, supported by their less exhausted compatriots. A mile into the tall grasses on the far side, they rested - and for the first time in a long while, Zana slept solidly.

When she woke to a rumbling stomach next morning, she found her pack empty. Fortunately Loren was willing to share supplies. From there, the rested party headed north through the grassland tunnels in single file, Keeran taking point. Everyone seemed to be working together now, Zana noted with satisfaction.

When Keeran came across a nest of squishy, hairless creatures, they tried to detour around - unfortunately Zana's metal armour clanked loudly, and the creature's mother found them. It was a krenshar, a horrible wolf-like beast with the strange ability to retract the skin from its skull, giving it a diabolic appearance. It howled deafeningly as it attacked, and Jarod and Keeran turned and ran! Zana was shaken, but grimly hacked at the monster. Two more Krenshar appeared - one chased down the trail after Keeran, while the other howled - and Zana suddenly found herself alone, facing two of the beasts! Everyone else had run, gripped by supernatural panic. Ears ringing, Zana parried and dodged as they lunged at her, and she felt vicious fangs tear at her lightly-armoured thigh. Blood reddened the grass. Zana snarled as she fell back, hacking and slashing at the beasts - it took several blows but she managed kill one, the pack-mother, and then her friends were with her again. With their help the second Krenshar was swiftly dispatched.

A scream came from down the southern trail - the last Krenshar had caught Keeran! While Loren went to dispatch the baby krenshars, Jes and the others sprinted off down the path to save Keeran, Zana puffing along behind. The breastplate had protected her from several wounds, but as she jogged along at the best speed she could manage, she wondered if the protection was worth the loss of mobility - her father had always worn a chain shirt, that mixed the protection of steel with the lightness of leather - perhaps she could find one…

By the time she reached the scene, it was all over. The last krenshar had fled before killing Keeran. Loren again employed his healing powers on the scout, saving him from death a second time.

Zana finished cleaning the bastard sword, and held the blade up to the little of the sun's rays that glittered through the high grass above their heads. The straight, rune-carved blade glimmered slightly in the light. It was a masterwork weapon. An old weapon, from before the Last Battle - from before Izrador had taken the world under his thrall. Its clean lines were so different from the spiked Vardatches the orcs wielded. As a child, Zana had heard tales of this sword, and its wielder, the Sarcosan Freerider Lord Than. Her father. As a teenager Zana had ran away from her mother's Errenland village to join Than and his band of outlaws in the battle against the Darkness. She had seen him wield it in many battles, often cutting down two or even three orcs with a single blow. In his hands the sword had been a living weapon that seemed to delight in its own grace and power.

Four years ago, when Zana was eighteen, the sword had failed him. He and half the outlaws had been enticed into the village of Kelen by rumours of prisoners, gathered for sacrifice by the Legates. It was a trap. Entering the ruined, smoking village long after the battle was done, Zana and the other outlaws had found the corpses of most of their friends, and broken weapons from the Mother of Blood orcs. There was no sign of Lord Than - possibly the orcs had taken him alive to torture, most likely they merely wanted his corpse as a trophy to despoil. Looking over the battlefield, Zana didn't know what had made her go to a cattle-trough, somehow unharmed amongst the devastation, and plunge her hand in. Beneath the cold and muddy water, her hand had closed on the rounded hilt of the sword. She remembered the water falling away from the blade as she pulled it out.

In Lord Than's hand, the old sword had been a living weapon that danced and flashed like lightning as it killed. In her hand the steel blade was dull, heavy, lifeless. She, Zana, was no Sarcosan noble of the old line, but a mongrel Errenlander cross-breed, product of a momentary dalliance with a peasant woman in a place so poor it had no name. Lord Than had probably regretted her birth, but if her father despised her he had always hidden it well.

But the sword despised her, though. Its leaden weight mocked her pretenses to greatness, to leadership. It was a sword of nobles, of heroes. She was neither.

***

Zana sheathed the sword, glancing over at Jes. The blonde Dorn woman had joined the group after Lord Than fell, but she knew a little of Zana's past. She was probably the closest thing to a kindred spirit here. And before rejoining Zana, Jes had survived alone for several days, had faced and survived horrors as bad as anything Zana had seen in the company of Jarod and Loren. Zana mustered a slight smile in her general direction.

"Should be good eating on those baby krenshar, Jes."

 

[StalkingBlue]

By Tane's player:



Tane and his brother Keeran had watched the collection of hovels for a goodly time now. The dwellings were ramshackle, little better than holes in the ground. What attracted the brothers was the sound they heard. Someone was using a hammer. That suggested someone crafting. Quite unusual in itself, this was rendered even more so by the fact that they could quite clearly hear the hammer ringing on metal. Someone was working with metal in this desolate place. It was either a travelling craftsman who decided this place was safe from orcs or someone who was very careless. Whatever, the brothers could always do with metal objects, especially arrowheads.

Keeran had found a couple of juicy plump rabbits that morning and the plan was that when the village was deemed safe, they would approach with the object of bartering the rabbits for a quantity of arrowheads. The area seemed clear. They had scouted quite thoroughly and found no recent orc sign. After a brief whispered conversation they slowly approached the village. They weren’t immediately noticed but when people did finally see them, the effect was instantaneous. People rushed into their dwellings and bolted what doors they had. The hammering still continued, coming from a slightly larger hut. The brothers again approached openly to find a tall, rangy woman labouring with a pair of hot tongs and a hammer. A small fire was burning fiercely. Tane looked with approval that at least she tried to make it as smokeless as possible. Several small domestic utensils were scattered about. Her posessions were neatly stacked in a corner.

Keeran stopped and said: “Jezzt? Is that you?”

The woman looked up. Tane himself now recognised her. This was a member of an ill-fated outlaw band under Lord Than. He had thought they were all dead although he had heard that there may have been a few survivors. She had a reputation as a swordswoman.

“Keeran, Tane? What are you doing here?” she asked.

“We were supposed to find a courier from Hamra but he never showed. We waited at the meeting place for a couple of days, but then we had to move. It just wasn’t safe there anymore. Loads of orc sign about. We also hoped to find some halflings but they weren’t around. Shame. One time we can find them, the next two times can’t. Very useful when we can do though, and bloody irritating when can’t. Anyway, we are going back to the camp. How about you?” answered Tane

“So you haven’t heard? The group I was with was caught. There was a slaughter. There may have been some survivors but I really don’t know who. Than told to us save ourselves and carry on the fight. I fear he is dead. Look, can I come with you? Maybe in the camp I will be able to decide what I want to do and find out more.”

The brothers hesitated. They traveled best on their own. They were fast, silent and so used to each other that they communicated almost through body language. Tane certainly could read his brother’s moods and quirks when travelling without the need for too much conversation. He was sure this was also the case with Keeran. Most importantly, they were not used to traveling with someone who was didn’t know their ways and was not silent and hidden. The obverse of that was that she could provide a goodly amount of muscle. Also, her skills could be very useful in the camp and maybe their handler could also make use of her. Maybe something could be salvaged from this waste-of-time mission after all. Tane looked at Keeran and they both nodded at each other.

“Of course you can come. We must set out now though. We were going to try to barter for some arrowheads but looking at what you are doing that doesn’t seem likely now. So, let’s go.”

“That’s great. As I was staying here, some people started muttering about giving up my sword. I will not give up my sword for anyone. They will have to pry it from my cold dead hands.”

With little ceremony, Jezzt announced to the villagers that she was leaving. They accepted it philosophically, even with relief. The three companions then entered into the Sea of Grass. This was an area of man high dense grasses. The best way to traverse it was to follow the animal trails. These almost invariably led to water and the main water around here was the river. The companions had to reach the river and cross it. It was an easy area to hide in but the obverse was also true as it was very easy for other denizens of the Sea to stalk and hunt them. It was a never-ending battle of wits. It became obvious very quickly that hiding was not one of Jezzt’s strengths, so the brothers had to compensate. Keeran took point and Tane took rearguard. Working in this manner the trio made good time.

Suddenly, from ahead, Tane heard voices. One of these was Jezzt’s the other was his brother’s. Something was obviously happening but mindful of his job, Tane kept a rearguard. He was tense and worried. There shouldn’t have been people here. However, he took consolation in that it was talk and not battle cries that he heard. That soon changed though. In the distance he heard drums. Orc war drums. He cursed. He had known that there was too much orc sign around. They were some distance away but closing. He ran to the area of the voices.

He was relieved as soon as he came into a clearing. Jezzt and his brother were talking with an elf. A wood elf. That meant that this group must be allies. The elf was also listening to the drums whose sound had become obvious. Tane saw the elf looked very tired, with a stoop to his shoulders and circles under his eyes. A glance took in his other companions. An unarmoured man, listening intently and a warrior woman, Sarcosan by the looks of her. The woman was cradling a rare piece of armour, a breast plate.

“I am Tane, we will save introductions for later. Right now we have to move. Those drums are too close now, and getting closer.”

He was glad to see the others saw the need for speed and within a very short time the camp was cleared and the newly augmented group was moving. The drums were still catching up though and soon were parallel with the group. The group decided to stop. They had only heard the enemy but seen no sign of them. Thankfully, the drumming went by them and then receded in the distance.

Introductions were then made. The elf was called Loren, a channeler. Tane was in awe of him. Magic was something of which he had very little experience. He knew that the mightiest channelers were elves and they could do things that were unearthly. He also knew that they were the greatest prize that a mage-hunter, one of Izrador’s special servants, could find. He was the first channeler Tane had ever seen. The unarmoured, unarmed human introduced himself as Jarod but didn’t say a great deal. Finally they woman introduced herself as Zana, a warrior whose life was dedicated to fighting the shadow. Loren told Keeran, Jezzt and Tane that they were on their way to Pass Stone, where he had received an magical message that there was a patrol that had been pinned down. They had just come from defeating a group of orcs and the Hungry Man, some foul creature that they met crossing the river. Tane and the other two decided that if there was a patrol in trouble then the area had to be investigated possibly to provide help and certainly to inform their handler as to what had happened to the patrol.

Pooling their resources, the two groups got together and set out towards the gnome crossing of the river, Keeran on point. The river was soon reached and Keeran came back, agitated. He reported a large number of ships crewed with orcs. Several hundred of them. Trying to cross there would be suicide. The group decided to follow the river and then cross further downstream. Keeran also reported, as he was scouting the river-bank that he was being watched by a grass cat, a local predator. The cat was behaving unusually, just watching him and then it bounded out of sight. The group found a suitable crossing place and they swam across, the stronger helping the weaker.

When he reached the other side, Tane’s heart sank. This whole region was flat, with some scrub vegetation, slight, rolling hills and no trees anywhere. There was almost no cover. If they were spotted by a patrol then there would be no chance of avoiding it by hiding. They would have to trust in force of arms. The only weapon Tane had was his short bow. He had not been able to obtain anything else. He hoped that Jezzt and Zana were skillful with the two swords they each cradled so lovingly. So, the group again set out with Tane taking rearguard.

Fairly early on, Tane spotted a hawk. It was behaving oddly. Circling above, it seemed to be keeping pace with them, almost following. When he brought this to everyone’s attention, Zana paled and started muttering about demons possessing animals and mage hunters. Tane really didn’t know what she was talking about but he saw she was very disturbed. The group kept travelling and then as they were passing through a small indentation, like a small valley with two raised sides, Keeran stopped and called out. He had seen two orcish heads cautiously rising over the top of one of the sides. Everyone bar Zana and Keeran dropped to the ground, presenting as small a target as possible. Seeing that they had been spotted, the orcs attacked. They rained javelins down onto the group and over one of the sides, a human figure on horseback charged, preceded by two orcs. It took out a piece of paper and cried out powerful magic. Keeran’s face contorted in terror and he was about to flee when a javelin skewered him in the back and he dropped. Seeing this, Zana charged, hewing mighty blows into the orcs guarding the human. Jezzt soon joined her and the battle turned to their favour. They were indeed skillful. The other two orcs charged down the hillside, but they were too late. Their companions were felled and the human turned his horse and rode off. Short work was made of the other two orcs.

Once they were finished, Zana went to the top of the high ground. She was joined by the others and in the distance they saw another two orcs, followed by the human. The group made ready for battle and started raining javelins and arrows onto the oncoming enemy. Tane was concentrating on the horse, trying to stop the human from riding away again. The final part of the battle was short. As the orcs approached, Loren stepped forward, did something magical, and suddenly a rainbow of different colours sprayed over the orcs, who both dropped. Zana and Jezzt both charged the human. This was too much for him and he turned and rode away as fast as his horse could run. The group briefly looked at each other, panting. It was a qualified success. The orcs were very tough, with horrible rending weapons, well armoured and with shields. Loren looked at them and said that at least some of them were temple guards. The human was a legate. Tane had heard of legates. They were the personal servants and representatives of Izrador. Capable of wielding magic personal to their god. The worst kind of traitors.

A brief discussion ensued. Both Jarod and Loren were tired to a dangerous point. They had to have rest or risk collapsing. Their position had been compromised by the escape of the legate. The country was completely open, with no hiding place and they were still a goodly distance away from Pass Stone. It was decided they would return to the Sea of Grass and return to the Great Forest. Both the return to the river and the river crossing were uneventful. As soon as it was feasible and they were out of sight of the opposite bank, they made camp and both Loren and Jarod got some much-needed sleep. One disturbing incident happened during Tane’s watch. He was positive he saw two green cat like eyes watching them. He surmised it was the unnatural grass cat again. He reported this to Zana who was on watch after him.

The next day, they group set out with the object of crossing the Sea of Grass to reach the Great Forest. Going through the grass, Tane had point. Keeran was still hurt. Tane spotted an animal lair with several odd, skinny, tiny beasts. He reported this to the others, and they tried to go around them, but the noise of the armour alerted the little things and they started an odd, piercing shriek. This unfortunately drew the parent. Their scream was far more effective, filling Jarod and Keeran with an unreasoning panic and causing them to flee in mindless fear. It was an odd beast, wolf size, and with the build of one with the exception of its head which looked like a hyena. It also had the ability to retract the skin of its skull, giving it a truly demonic appearance. It was horrible. Fortunately, Zana, Jezzt, Loren and Tane resisted its scream, although they still suffered a little from it. The two warriors soon started laying into it when suddenly another appeared. This one screamed as well and this time everyone else bar Zana ran. Truly the woman had ice water in her veins. Fortunately this scream did not seem as powerful and the others returned to deal with the beast.

Tane then went to retrieve this brother, hoping to find him down the path. Then he heard a scream and alerted the others than another one may be around. The others followed up and indeed another one leaped up the path towards Jezzt. Tane could see the crumpled body of his brother down the path. He desperately hoped he wasn’t too late. The beast saw the odds arrayed against it and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. It bounded away.

Fortunately, Loren got to Keeran in time and he used his magic to heal him. The channeler seemed a bit reluctant to use his magic at first but then did it. Tane wonderded about that. The group then made sure that they were no more beasts around and decided to carry on, taking the little things to eat for dinner that night.

 

[StalkingBlue]

By Tane's player:



Having used several magical spells, the group decided to move away. Tane asked Loren about the nature of the mage hunters and Loren replied that they were creatures wholly dedicated to pursuing spell-casters. They belonged to The Shadow and they could sense magic from a great distance. Therefore it was wise to move immediately from a spot as soon as magic was used. They were also able to inhabit the bodies of animals although they had never been known to inhabit the body of a human.

The group moved away for a little time and then quickly made camp. They fell into an exhausted sleep although precautions were taken and watches were kept. Early the next morning, more problems became apparent. The group was running very short of food. An attempt was made to forage near the camp but Keeran quickly pointed out the folly of this. It was impossible to forage for such a large group in such a small area. So, on that day, the group went hungry and later that evening, plans were made to forage in a more efficient manner. It seemed that no one was used to both having to feed such a large group and travel at the same time. Therefore it was a long discussion before the most efficient method was found. Keeran was growing a little testy at this and Tane was quiet but he found a new appreciation for the people in charge of feeding camps such as Dragan’s Folly.

The next several days were quiet with the group settling to a routine of foraging as they were traveling. Things were beginning to come together. Routines were established and individuals began getting used to each other. On the last day, when by everyone’s reckoning they should come to the northern edge of the Sea of Grass, Keeran, on point, smelled smoke. Having reported this to the group, he found a tree nearby and climbed it to see if he could observe its source. To the West, there were several large plumes. Someone, almost certainly the orcs, were burning the Sea of Grass. Tane’s immediate concern was that the mysterious grass cat, which had followed them, had somehow informed their enemies that they were nearby. Zana, however, felt that he was being over cautious and it was more likely that the halflings were the target. Whatever the reason, it was impossible for the group to camp for the night in the Sea of Grass so reluctantly they had to move quickly towards the famous Orc Road. With Keeran on point, the group sneaked as best as they could. Keeran once reported back that he could see figures in the distance, so the group, keeping quiet and still for some time, waited for the patrol to go past. Then Keeran reported the way was clear and the group rapidly to the Road.

That night, Keeran found a suitable campsite and the group settled for the night. Everything was quiet until the end of the night, when, on Tane’s watch, he could make out in the distance a group of figures approaching their campsite. They were heading straight for them. He quickly approached Zana and woke her up. The figures still approached. Zana then woke Jezzt and Loren. Unfortunately this movement drew the attention of the orcs and they called something out in their tongue. Loren briefly called something back to them in Orcish, more in the hope of briefly delaying as opposed to deceiving them, but by that stage they were close enough to be able to see that the group were no orcs. At this point, Tane went to wake Keeran, who had decided to sleep a little apart from the group.

The orcs rushed into the fray but fortunately the group was fully awake now and ready for combat. Swords flashed in the darkness, shields clanged against armour and mighty magic followed. Suddenly two orcs fell as if poleaxed as they were engulfed in a spray of colours emerging from Loren’s hands. Tane blinked. He himself was proving to be wholly ineffectual against the enemy. He didn’t know if it was nervousness or it was too dark, but whatever the reason he was unable to hit any of the enemy with his arrows. Keeran was much more effective. Zana, as ever, was in the thick of the fight although she was taking griveous wounds. Suddenly she fell, bleeding profusely. The orcs, having seen Loren’s abilities, decided to target him above everyone else. Fortunately, Loren’s magic was highly effective both against the orcs and in healing Zana. Finally the group prevailed. Then, horribly, before anything could be done, two of the recently fallen orcs rose as fell beings. One ran away screaming in madness, the other attacked the group. Luckily the group were also able to deal with him.

Having learned his lesson from the last encounter, Tane quickly made a tally and orcs were stripped. Booty was distributed throughout the group. Three large shields and three suits of armour were taken for barter. Loren administered further healing and then the group moved off at a rapid pace. Crossing the Road without incident, they made good time. Keeran was on point as they covered the ground, keeping low, trying to be as inconspicuous as they could. Tane had rear guard. Suddenly Keeran came back to the group. He reported hearing panicked Eredani cries and sneaking forward he saw a pair of goblins mounted on two hideous wolf-like beasts about to attack a pair of humans leading a horse dragging a travois behind it. Keeran said he could vaguely make out a figure strapped to it. It had an odd mound on its belly. The horse was panicked at the site of the wolves or wargs, which was what the group believed them to be.

A quick discussion ensued and it was agreed the Keeron would sneak forward and signal the group when it was most advantageous for them to attack. The group made ready as Keeran disappeared again. Suddenly, in the distance, they saw him stand up and fire his bow. That was an obvious signal for the group to charge. Rushing forward, they saw that one of the goblins and his mount had already felled one of the humans and the other was getting ready to charge the survivor. The horse was still panicked and one of the wargs was getting ready to eat the fallen human. Without stopping, Jezzt, Zana, Jerrod and Loren rushed forward engaging one of the goblins and wargs. Keeran and Tane supported with arrow fire as was their wont. Finally, Tane targeted the warg with a solid hit. It took only a brief time for the first orc and warg to succumb to Loren’s magic. Truly the channeler had awesome power. The other goblin in the meantime had felled the other human while its canine partner arrived to combat the advancing the group. This foe was a different proposition. It was hit several times but it was almost supernaturally resilient. Seeing the odds against it, the goblin mounted the warg and rode away at full speed. Everyone either fired arrows or threw javelins at it. However, although it suffered several glancing blows, the beast managed to keep its feet and run away. The group cursed.

Loren administered healing to everyone including the fallen human. His partner was dead. As the rest of the group was examining their latest find Tane couldn’t help but let out a gasp. The figure on the travois was a snow elf! A filthy, scratched, smelly and unconscious one but still an elf. Loren immediately healed her but to no avail. The group then noticed that she was also strapped down by the wrists and gagged. Loren immediately started to free her when the human shouted:

“Hey don’t do that. Who are you people? You have orc stuff all over you.”

Loren ignored him and took here gag off. However he soon put it back on as the elf immediately started shrieking in an unearthly manner.

Tane decided that this human wasn’t the brightest individual he had ever come across. Yes, they had orc stuff all over them but they had also just killed one goblin and one warg and saved his life. He tried to ask this person several questions but received little response.

It took Zana’s menacing presence, her large sword and her orc breastplate to produce answer.

His name was Naith and he was from Hamra. Someone called Gabe had had the elf in his cellar. He had told Naith and his dead partner Kirky to take the feverish elf to the Northern Woods. Tane decided this Gabe must have been really desperate. Then he heard a strange sound and he whirled around. He saw Lorne standing still, looking glassy eyed. A small trickly of saliva dribbled out of his mouth. He was holding a drum. He had unwrapped the blanket covered mound on the elf’s stomach. After a little time, he seemed to shake himself and carefully wrapped the instrument in the cloak again and put it back where it was.

“I don’t know what this is but the magic from it is overwhelming.”

Keeran and Tane in the meantime had looted the goblin body. It was remarcably well-equipped, providing a finely made shorsword, some armour and above all a courier’s pouch with two letters. Loren had a quick glance at them, and he was able to read both of them. Tane decided that he would look at them carefully later but now they had to move, especially as one of the dammed goblins had got away. No doubt all hell was going to break loose in this region very soon.

---

[DM's note: The group didn't actually cross the orc road until the day after the orc patrol stumbled into them. They had crossed a trail that appear to have been made by regular patrols but wre still well south of the road when they made camp.]

 

[StalkingBlue]

The letters taken off the goblin courier read:

[Colonial alphabet, Orcish]

"To the Garrison Commander, Hamra:

Unacceptable. I will see your troops block the eastern escape by Midnight tomorrow, or by the Lord's ashen blood Khaark shall have your twitching liver!

S."


[Colonial alphabet, Black Tongue]

"To Lord Jahzel AlMaeera, Greater Legate, Eisin:

Found this on a long-eared spy trying to slip past Black Weir into the forest. Wretch swallowed poison before Khaark could put the tongs to him. He now serves to reinforce our sleepless forces.

May the deciphering of the enclosed bring swifter victory, and may your humble servant be remembered as and when higher office awaits.

Hail Izrador! Hail the Shadow.

Semelin, Temple Legate, Black Weir, Felthera Front.

20th night 5th month 99th year of the True God's reign."


Upon superficial examination, the enclosed, crumpled bit of parchment seems blank.

 

[StalkingBlue]

Further inspection of the seemingly blank letter reveals writing in wax or tallow that can be made readable (in a glassy sort of way) by soaking the letter in water.

Here's what becomes visible

[Erenlander alphabet


"SZ OE LN DP IA EC RK LH EO GR AS TE ES RT IW MO HD EU LS DK ES WA AG SO O, BS SH EE RI VS ES DA RI ID DT IO NH GA EV AE SB TE TE ON WO AR RD DE SR HE AD MN RO AR AT NH DF EO IR SE II NT RH OE AR DP WR IO TM HO FT UI LO LN GO UR AP RU DN AI NS DH HM AE LN FT A. D O

WS HE ET NO NA ER XR TI ZV OE IE DA AR NL OY FA ZN OD RI GN EF TO CR HC CE O, MH EE SH NA OS RM TA HD WE IO TT HH HE OR RA SR ER SA TN OG TE RM AE DN ET IS TT WH OI US LT DI BM EE W. I

CE LS AU WP EE DR DV II GS GE ED RB SY HA AS VI EN BG EL EE NL BE RG OA UT GE HA TC IC NO FM OP RA WN OI RE KD SA ST OA UL TL HT OI FM TE HS EB HY AT IH RR PE IE NL BA ER NG DE IB NL TA HC EK NW EO WL RF OH AO DU ,N PD OS S. SD IA BW LN Y1 A5 NM EO WN MT IH R5 RY OE RA ,R W9 O9 RL KA S. A R"