# Curse of Darkness V - All Roads...



## Greenfield (May 22, 2012)

This is a brief transitional tale run by yet another DM.

**** *** 
"He has to what?", Apellenea asked in disbelief?

"He has to prove he isn't undead.", answered Euphemia, somewhat smugly. "He's been seen calling pillars of fire, was certified dead by a Mercurian priest, and then showed up alive again like nothing happened." 

"Well, he's been calling himself a son of Jupiter since I met him.", Penn noted. "So, which would be worse for him, to be a 'divine champion', an undead, or just someone that scared Pluto enough that he wouldn't let him in?" 

The thought of Marcus as scaring the god of the underworld brought a good chuckle, but still, Marcus would be undergoing tests and trials for some time to come. Which brought up the next question. 

"How long is our stay here paid for?", Penn asked, noting once again the emptiness of his purse. They'd been rewarded for their last efforts, but somehow money never seemed to stick to the Bard's fingers. 

"The end of the week.", Cassius called. "But if you need paying work, the city guard is probably hiring. They lost a few men raiding the Assassin's hall last week." 

As if on cue, a messenger arrived, looking for Nedel. The Sorcerer produced a silver piece to gift to the lad, and spread the parchment on the table. 

"We don't need to go looking for work.", he called brightly to the lounging Bard. "It's come looking for us. Our presence is requested." 

"Is the Empire in trouble again?", joked the Bard. 

"Probably, but that's someone else's problem. This is from the Captain of the Guard. We're to report to the local recruitment office.", Nedel announced. "I think we're being drafted." 
*** 
"No, you aren't being drafted.", the Captain assured them. "I was given your names as a reference. It seems that you have a knack for finding trouble, and I have some trouble that needs to be found. You are free to accept this offer or not."

"Specifically, some trouble that needs to be found outside the city?", Seeburn asked pointedly, already knowing the answer. 

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact.", replied the Captain with a smile. "It seems that we're getting reports of Vandal raids south of us. Small raiding parties. I need someone to check it out and see if it's a precursor to another invasion." 

"To the south?", asked Apellenea? "I though they came from the north. What are they doing down there?" 

"That's what I'm trying to figure out.", answered the Captain. "I can't divert any troops that way, we're spread too thin as it is along the northern routes. If this is a diversion, I need to know. If it's real, I need to know. How many, what kind of troops, what their purpose is. I need to know." 

He then produced a sizable sack of coin and laid it on the table. "This is the fourth part of the payment.", he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "It's all I can afford to pay, but it's a full moon's wages for most people. I'll pay the rest when you return with a good report." 

Penn looked at the sack, mentally calculated his share, balanced it against the void in his purse, and smiled. "Do you have a map, to show where the raiders have been?" 
*** 
"You can't leave.", pouted Sirene. "We haven't even asked father's blessing for the marriage."

"I'll be back, my dear, but duty calls.", Penn said sweetly, even as he made a mental note to avoid this inn for at least the next nine moons. He had never said he'd marry the girl, never even hinted at it. 

"Well, you at least owe me for a new dress.", she demanded. 

"Of course, my dear. If I had the time, I'd help you select a dozen. Alas, though, I must go within the hour. So I trust you to select them yourself, and surprise me upon my return."  

Her eyes lit up when the gold crossed her palm, and she hugged her love one last time before he had to go face the Vandals. 

After he had gone she began to hum a happy tune. Something about the sailor with a girl in every port, and the girl with a man on every ship... 
*** 
The map had shown an odd pattern. The first village hit was a mere day and a half from Rome itself. The next was a day's travel beyond that. And the next was two days further.

"It's as if they're moving  _away_ from the city, not towards it.", Sylus had stated. "That's an odd way to stage an invasion."

What was more odd was the first village they encountered. It had no walls. Being so close to the great city it had always counted on the city patrols to keep it safe. And apparently, they had. 

There were no buildings burned, no signs of recent burials or funerary pyres. In fact, to the naked eye it didn't look as if it had been raided at all. 

But the first citizen, a retired Centurian, assured them that it had. " 

"An Ogre, six cubits tall if he was a finger.", the man assured them. "It was him, and a swarm of Orcs in his wake. They struck at dusk. I tried to fight them off, but it's been a few years since I had to swing a sword, and they took me down like I was a child." 

"How many people did you lose?", asked Sylus, trying to assess the enemy's strength and ferocity. 

"None, really.", said the old man in amazement. "They wanted to know where it was, and I couldn't tell them." 

"Where what was?" 

"They never said. They were looking for something and they thought I knew. I told them everything, answered all their questions. If I didn't, they'd start butchering people." He looked sad, almost broken for a moment. "I'm a foolish old man, I suppose. I thought I'd end up giving my life to save my people. I couldn't even do that, so I sacrificed my pride and told them anything they wanted to know." 

"You kept your people safe, and that's what counts.", Apellenea said comfortingly. "Where did you send them?" 

"There used to be a temple south of here. I don't know where. The earth shook and toppled the place before I was born. From what I could tell that was where he thought 'it' was, so I sent him there." 
*** 
The afternoon passed more quickly than the miles, and the air turned decidedly chilly almost the moment the sun set. The November night was blustery cold, and the next morning the sky dripped a cold drizzle on the companions. The breakfast porridge was like the companions themselves, cold and soggy, and their mood was an unhappy one as they set out.

The next village they found had a small inn where they could warm up and dry off. The innkeeper there had a tale similar to the Centurion's in the previous town. The Vandals had been lead by an Ogre, and had burst upon the town just after dark. They questioned everyone they met, demanding to know where "it" was, without ever making it clear what "it" was that they sought. 

"These are either dumbest Vandals in the world, or they're not exactly sure what they're looking for.", Nedel concluded, after listening to the twelfth rendition of the now common tale. 

"They could be both.", Penn quipped from the corner as he tuned his lyre. "If this one is anything like the Kergen, he's the living avatar of stupidity." 

"But he's not like the Kergen.", Sylus countered. "Nobody's been killed, no slaves were taken, no buildings were burned." 

"So maybe he hasn't figured out how to be a barbarian raider yet. Maybe this is a trial.", suggested the Bard. 

"That may be exactly what it is.", suggested Seeburn. "Manhood trials, a quest to prove that he's worthy to be one of the Vandals. This may be a young Ogre, out to prove his worth. He's never been allowed on a real raid, so he really doesn't know what he's supposed to do." 

"Well, he has to be stopped before he figures it out." 
*** 
"He's been raiding for a couple of weeks by now.", Sylus noted. "The Vandal hate sunlight, and can't very well be camping in the open. The old Centurion said he thought they'd be hiding in the woods someplace, off the main road."

"Then we may well get ahead of him.", Penn said. "Rome built roads for a reason, and we can move faster on the roads than he can off of them." 

"How are we going to get ahead of him, if we don't know where he's going?", asked Cassius, a bit confused. 

"Easy.", answered the Bard. "He's been working his way south, and we know which villages he's hit so far. All we have to do is head for one he hasn't 'visited' yet, then sit tight. He'll come to us." 

"Unless he finds 'it" first.", observed Nedel. 

"There's another possibility.", called Euphemia from the front. "There's an Ogre leading a bunch of Orcs this way, on the road, in a military march." 

"This is almost too easy.", said Sylus, as the group headed for cover, and he drew his bow. 

"Maybe it really is too easy.", mused Penn. "Let's see what we can see." 

"What?", asked Seeburn in shock, as he took aim. "You want to make sure they're the right Vandals?" 

"Sort of. Let's see how they react.", the Bard suggested as he prepared his spell. 

Several hundred feet up the road, a small child who strongly resembled Euphemia stepped out of the bushes and simply stared at the Ogre, wide eyed. 

The Ogre waved his followers to a halt. "You, tell me what you know!", he demanded. 

The "little girl" turned and dove back into cover, vanishing from sight. 

The Ogre stomped over to where she had gone, his voice raised in anger now as he drew his weapon, a huge scythe, and began to hack away at the low shrubbery. 

"If there was a little girl in there, she'd be dead, wouldn't she?", Penn asked. 

Before anyone else could make ready, or even answer the rhetorical question, an arrow suddenly appeared in the Ogre's back. 

The monster looked puzzled, and tried to reach the inconveniently placed irritation. He seemed unsure of what had just happened. Sylus' arrow, as accurate as Seeburn's had been, cleared up that question nicely. 

The Ogre charged, followed moments later by the first ranks of the Orcs. 

Euphemia was dashing down the side of the road, her diminutive form completely hidden by the stone wall that bordered that section of the avenue, and Cassius leaped to the center of the road, blade ready. And from the brush a fiery, quick paced melody began, setting the companions' hearts racing. 

"_Root Bind_", chanted Apellenea, uncertain of just how effective it might be on a Roman stone road. The grasses answered her call, if weakly, and many of the Orcs found their feet tied to the earth. The last one, who hadn't been able to keep up with the others, managed to pull himself free, while the Ogre hardly noticed.

The last one had another trick up his sleeve as well. Reaching up towards his throat he grabbed at a peculiarly knotted cord there, chanted something in Elven, and unbound the knot. 

There was a brief flare of magics as the forces he unleashed fought against the earth magics of the Druid, but in the end the earth prevailed, and the grasses continued their grasping ways. 

The Ogre, in full battle rage now, charged directly at Cassius, who abruptly vanished from sight. He hadn't moved. One moment he was there, and the next he wasn't. The great Ogre slowed to a halt, seeking someone to attack. 

"Glad that worked.", chuckled Nedel as his familiar fluttered back to him. He'd had Nightwing, his bat, wrap the warrior in the night's shadows, rendering him invisible. 

Seeburn popped up over the wall and snapped off another shot, to be followed a moment later by Penn.  

Down the way, Euphemia was dancing across the road, skipping away from the grasping grasses and heading for one of the entrapped Orcs. It was a daring move, for if she took a single misstep she'd be trapped out in the open, and the Orcs would make short work of her. 

As the Ogre charged at his new target, a long gash suddenly opened in his side, and Cassius appeared next to him. He'd run directly past the warrior. All Cassius had had to do was place the blade in the way and let the Ogre run into it. 

Then Apelenea stepped up, her own scimitar slashing a matching cut down the other side his ribs. Seeburn had dropped his bow, and stood to meet the charge, blade in hand. 

The monster looked around in panic, suddenly surrounded. 

"Surrender now, and we'll let you walk free.", called Nedel, a note of command in his voice. "Tell us what you seek!" 

The Ogre hesitated, then raised his hand and responded in broken Latin. "All right. We'll sit and talk. Have what you want right here.", he said, indicating his pouch. He stepped back, and called his men to order. 

Several of the tried to comply, but their feet were still pinned in place. 

Euphemia looked torn. Had the Ogre surrendered? She wasn't sure. What she was sure of was that the Orc in front of her wasn't going any place at the moment, but that that opportunity would quickly pass if Apellenea dropped her binding spell. She decided, and her blade flashed out, sliding under the Orc's chain armor and burying itself deep in his vitals. She gave it that little something extra as she pulled free, and watched with satisfaction as the shocked Orc dropped to the ground. 

"Treachery!", the Ogre roared, swinging his scythe about in a huge circle, and battle resumed. 
***
The fight was now fairly one sided, with the Ogre having lost his momentum, and the bulk of his soldiers trapped and helpless.

Seeburn quickly charged him, the battle madness flaring in his eyes, while Penn advanced to cut off any retreat. His only escape was into the waiting grasp of the entangling grasses, and he knew that that way lay death. 

"I'll kill you all, you Fey bastards!", he roared, slashing about in near desperation. 

"Surrender to me, and I'll guarantee your safety, personally.", Penn declared, holding his light blade at the ready. 

The Ogre looked around and, in resignation, dropped his blade. "Agreed." 

"Hold. This man is my slave, taken in battle. You harm him, and you're harming my property.", the Half Satyr declared, his face a mocking smirk. 

The Ogre looked at him in shock, rage once more filling his mind at the betrayal. He swung a huge fist at the Bard, but it never landed. Seeburn's blade laid him low. 

"Do you know what the penalty is for a slave who attacks his master?", Penn asked of the unconscious Ogre. 

"The rest of you, drop your weapons!", shouted Cassius. "Or you'll feel the bite of my arrow-slinging, grass growing sword!" 

The threat was utterly ludicrous, but delivered with such force that the remaining Orcs dropped their weapons in pure shock. 

And the battle was over. Penn moved quickly to staunch the Ogre's wounds. He didn't really want a slave. And the entire situation seemed very wrong. 

Apellenea asked the grasses to withdraw, and the remaining Orcs were quickly relieved of their weapons. The fallen were tended to as well, if they still lived. 
*** 
"Here's what you wanted.", the Ogre said bitterly, once he was awake. He flung a crumpled piece of parchment at Penn, pure hatred in his eyes.

"Are you trying to buy your freedom with this?", Penn asked carefully. There were rules regarding slave holders. Just because you owned someone didn't mean that you owned what they owned.  

"Yeah, I guess so.", replied the Ogre, suspiciously. 

"Accepted.", said Penn as he looked over the scribbles on the scrap. It was a map, much like the one they had seen in the first village. The difference was that there was a temple marked on it, in about the area the old Centurion had indicated there might be. 

"I'll have to go back to my master and tell him I failed. You win. All right?", the Ogre asked, still angry. 

"Who is your master?" 

"I was hired by a Centurion. He said I should gather some men and meet him there. There's an artifact of some kind he wants us to help him find." 

The companions went silent with shock.  

"Describe him, please. Where did you meet?" 

"I met him in Penroyal, just outside of Rome. He paid me in gold, and said it was to help defend Rome. He was an old guy, with a ..." 

"...long scar on his face?", asked Penn, finishing the Ogre's sentence for him. 

"Yeah.", said the Ogre. "How did you know?" 

"He reported to Rome that you were a Vandal raiding party.", Seeburn put in. "We were sent by the Captain of the Guard to find out what was going on." 

"That lying pink-skinned bastard!", swore the Ogre. "He set us up!" 

"He set us against each other.", came the quick correction. "He told us where to find you. I think he was hoping that you'd kill us." 

"I'm going to find him and rip his arms out!", roared the Ogre, rising to his feet. 

"Easy, friend.", suggested Penn. "You're still hurt. What say we go to that temple together, and have a little talk with him." 

The Ogre quickly agreed. It was an odd alliance, the Orcs with their Ogre leader and the Fey dominated companions, but it was quickly becoming apparent that in Rome, all alliances were strange. 
[FONT=&quot]***
No one slept well that first night together. The ingrained distrust was too deep.

The next day was a poor one for all as well, as the map now lead them off of the main roads, and the cold winter rains made the trails muddy and treacherous.

Watches were posted the next night, but this time the two groups worked together. One Orc and one Fey on each watch seemed a fair balance, though if truth be told they spent more time watching each other than anything else.

The weather broke the next day, and they made better progress. Still, few hands strayed far from their weapons.

"This is ridiculous.", Penn muttered. Then, speaking louder, he addressed the Ogre, who's name turned out to be Jason. 

"Jason, how are we going to be able to trust each other in battle, if we don't trust each other just walking down the road?"

Jason thought about that, hard. It was almost painful to watch. Finally, he answered. "Don't know. But you're right, this isn't going to work in a fight."

Sylus found a good camp sight that evening, well hidden by rocks and near a clear spring. And Penn decided to take a chance. He collected as many water skins as he could and filled them all at the spring, then used his magic.

Staggering back to the camp under the burden of so much wine wasn't easy, but the effort was worth it. The sheltering rocks allowed them to build a good warm fire without giving away their position. Everyone was warm and dry for the first time in days. Good food, a few tales, a song or two and copious amounts of wine quickly lightened everyone's mood. 

It wasn't a true Bacchanal, but there's something about getting drunk with someone that helps. They'd either kill each other, or they'd get closer together.

Nobody died, and the next day the tensions were much lessened. They used up the last of Penn's 'blessings of Baccus' to clear the morning hangover, but it was worth it.
*** 
"I think we're getting close.", Sylus said, examining the map again. "From what I can tell, it should be just ahead."

Euphemia scanned the area, looking for any signs of man.

"No temple, no road to a temple, not even an outhouse.", she declared. "You can't build something like that without leaving some sign, some piece, something. You need stone to build it, and a road to haul it in over, and camps for the workers. But these trees are a century old, and there's no sign that there's ever been a road cleared through here."

Apellenea looked down at the earth and knelt. Her fingers sifted through the layers of loam and packed leaves, and turned up black soil. "There's been fire through here.", she said. "It's been a long time, but it would have brought down much of the forest, whether new growth or old. We wouldn't see where a road had been by just looking at the plants."

"Still, you'd expect to see something. Temples are tall things. Even if the place fell, something would be sticking up."

They pressed on.
*** 
"That's why we didn't see anything.", Sylus said in satisfaction, peering over the edge. "It's in a hollow."

He and Euphemia pulled back from the bluff, and reported what they'd found.

"There's the remains of a temple. A lot more than you'd expect, if the earth shook the way we were told it did."

"Yeah, well we know who told us that.", Cassius said.

"Who?", asked Jason, missing the reference.

"Dominus, the Centurion who sent us after each other."

"Oh.", said Jason, looking puzzled. Then, after a painful delay, his face brightened. "You mean he lied to you!", he declared, finally getting with the conversation.

"Yeah, he lied. And it looks like he lied to someone else.", Sylus informed the group. "There's a small army down there, digging around the place. They look like Vandals, but I can't be sure." He looked at Jason and his followers. "You can't always judge by appearances."

"I can find out.", said Penn with a sly smile. "All we need to do is see how they react to us showing up."

"I don't feel like risking my life just to satisfy your curiosity.", Nedel said.

"Oh, don't worry. We'll be quite safe.".
*** 
Gurash the Greater strutted among his men, prodding them to greater efforts. The hairy men stood guard, ready to beat any slackers into submission at the first gesture from him. He and he alone had been the one to find the hidden place, and when he had the hidden weapon, then he and he alone would command all the Vandal forces. It would be glorious.

 His visions of conquest were disturbed by an occurrence on the field ahead. Dust swirled up from the blasted valley floor to become an impenetrable column 20 feet across. Then it settled back to earth, and in the center of where it had been stood a party of mounted warriors. At their head sat a tall human, slender, dressed in the rich robes of a northern lord, an ornately carved staff of darkwood and bronze held in his hand like a scepter. 

The sudden appearance was all the more eerie because none had heard the hoofbeats of the horses, and they seemed to be waiting for something in silent judgment.

"Who are you?", demanded Gurash, shoving his way through the ranks of his slack-jawed men. "Begone, or pay the price!" [/FONT]


----------



## Greenfield (May 22, 2012)

*** 
"Can you hear what he's saying?", Nedel asked, his head raised just enough to see the scene play out.

"No, but I know the tongue.", Jason replied. "They're Vandals." 

"Good enough for me.", said Seeburn. And his bow began its song. 

The illusion below dissolved as the Vandal chief slashed at the faux Nedel, and Penn began to sing his own song.  

"_...I bear orders from the Captain, 
Get ye ready quick and soon,
for the pikes must be together
by the rising of the moon!..._"

Seeburn's first arrow had found the Vandal captain, and Euphemia's followed a heartbeat later. Then two arrows flew from Sylus' bow in rapid succession, and the chieftan fell, surprise on his face. 

And the vandal horde rose up as a body, dropped their shovels and picks, and fled. 

It was the most amazing sight any of the companions had ever seen. They poured arrows into the retreating mass, advancing to the edge of the bluff as they fired. 

Jason and his Orcs stood in indecision. His instinct was to charge after a retreating foe, but to do so would place him in the field of fire, and there was no clear path for such a charge. The ground sloped down from where they stood for about 20 feet, then dropped off sharply to the floor of the small valley below. Winding pathways could be seen leading down, but they were narrow and twisting, not at all suitable for a glorious charge. 

Cassius and Apellenea moved to one side, heading towards one of the narrow ways, and Nedel gestured Jason towards the other. "Don't let them get up here, and we've won. They have no other way out." 

Everyone continued to fire, expecting the Vandals to return, weapons in hand and bows out, but the reformation didn't occur. Instead the Orc horde was pulling back to the relative shelter of the temple itself. 

"I wonder why they weren't searching inside before?", Nedel asked, thinking aloud. 

As if on cue, his question was answered. The first surge of the dark horde forced their way through the opening arch, and half of them fell to the earth, dead. 

"There are some kind of traps inside.", Euphemea called. "Spikes or spears, I can't tell from here. They stab up and pull down, all in the blink of an eye." 

"Oh boy are they in trouble." And in truth they were. Half of the Orcs now stood within the temple, afraid to lift a foot for fear of instant death. 

Then one Orc stood up and screamed, "Kill them all! Kill, Kill! Kill!", and the great hairy apes that had served as their fallen leader's enforcers advanced onto the field. Some of the Orcs followed. 

But there was no foe for them to close with, just the ongoing hail of arrows. Even Penn's bow was singing now, the draw and pluck timed to the driving beat of his battle song. 

"_Out from many a mud wall cabin eyes were watching through the night
Many a manly heart was beating for the blessed warning light
Murmurs rang along the valleys to the banshees lonely croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon!_"

Cassius and Apellenea had advanced down the trail, taking the left flank, while Jason and his Orcs took the right. Penn and Sylus went with them, firing as they went, and the enemy continued to fall. 

"Why are they advancing?", Nedel asked in wonder. "We can just kill them all from here." 

Euphemia rattled her near empty quiver in reply, and headed for the left hand path, still firing." 

Then Jason and his followers hit the open field. At his orders they formed ranks and advanced. 

And it was all over but the shouting. The advance of that heavy infantry turned the route into a slaughter. Vandals threw down their weapons in desperation and prostrated themselves on the ground before the victors. 

The only injuries among the companions was Cassius, who had faced off against one of the great apes. It had managed to reach past the arc of his greatsword and latch onto him, nearly tearing his arms out of their sockets in its mighty grasp. 

His life was saved by one of Jason's Orcs. 
*** 
 "Come out of there!", Penn called to the Vandals cowering inside the temple. "You're beaten."

"I didn't know you spoke their language.", Nedel said in wonder.  

"I received a crash course.", Penn replied, referring to his time as a Vandal slave. 

"We yield", called a Vandal from within the temple, "But we can't come out. This cursed place will kill us." 

"Look down.", Penn called. "Do you see the footprints you made when you entered? Follow the same path out. Place your feet in your own footprints as you step." 

And slowly, carefully, the Orcs did. 

"Jason, we may have some new recruits for you.", Nedel called.  

"These?", asked the Ogre in derision. "No discipline. They couldn't hold a line here. I wouldn't trust them to hold one in a real battle." 

"You'll have to whip them into shape. Nobody joins the army knowing how to march or fight." 

"I'm not in the army any more.", Jason replied.  

"Would you like to be? They're recruiting for a 5th Legion, and you'd probably rank Quatro, easily." 

While they bantered, Euphemia was surveying the carnage.  

The temple was indeed in ruins. But not nearly as bad as it should have been. The roof was missing, but there was no rubble to show that there had ever been one. And something was odd about the statuary. 

"I don't know these gods,", she said in wonder. 

"I know some of them.", Penn said, careful not to cross the threshold. "There's Ares and Athena." 

"No, that's Mars. See the plaque?" 

"But the other one is labeled in the Greek. She's Athena." 

"And that one's Ogma.", said Seeburn. "He's the warrior chief among the gods of my homeland. 

"And that one with the hammer is the Storm of the North, who's name means thunder.", Apellenea added, pointing to the form of a bearded man with a horned helm. 

"They're all war gods. See, that one's Egyptian, and the one over there is from Summeria." 

"What sort of temple is this, anyway?"

 ***
Euphemia eyed the floor of the open structure, littered with Orc bodies. Beneath the dust, sand, rubble and blood, the stones were set in a regular pattern of alternating black and white. In the center stood four statues facing inward, while eight others lined the walls.

"It's going to take a long while to find a safe path across this place.", she said grimly. 

Penn signaled one of Jason's Orcs, and the pair began to drag the bodies of the fallen from the field towards the opening. 

They heaved the first one through the opening and watched as a trio of spears lanced up through the floor, quick as a blink, then retracted. 

"Found the first trap.", declared the Half-Satyr. The next body landed next to the first, and remained there unmolested. 

"That spot's safe.", he added, before returning for the next body. 

"Stop that!", the Halfling snarled. "Have you no respect for a well made trap?" 

Then she began the painstaking task of working out the pattern of the traps. 

Slowly, carefully, she made her way across the floor towards the first statue on her left, that of Athena, goddess of wisdom and valor in battle. She'd noticed something odd about the dias that stood before the statue. The emblem on it was facing neither the statue, nor the place where a person would normally stand if praying to the goddess. 

There were small depressions in the sides, spaced for fingers. She examined the stone carefully and, holding her breath, the spun the stone disk so the emblem was facing the statue. She heard a loud "chunk" sound from beneath the floor, and then all was silent. 

Carefully she lifted her sack of tools and dropped it onto an adjacent space. Nothing happened. 

"All right, I think it's all right to walk on this part of the floor.", she sighed, tension visibly flowing out of her slight frame. "But only here. I have three other statues to work on." 

The rest of those present decided to wait until she was sure it was safe. 
*** 
It had taken more than an hour for the Halfling to work her way to the four quarters of the temple and disarm all the traps. Her hands were rock steady, but the rest of her was shaking from the strain and dripping with sweat.

Once finished she sagged back against one of the central statues, resting her nerves. To her surprise the statue moved, just a bit.  

She examined the floor at its base, and began to sweep away the debris of years to get a better look at where the pedestal stone met the floor. To her surprise, she saw that it didn't. It seemed to be suspended slightly above the stone, enough that she could slide a knife blade under the stone to its full length. She held a small piece of polished metal to the floor so she could see. There was a support near the center, set in a slot carved from the floor. 

She pushed the statue back, and it moved easily. She tried the next one and it moved as well. When the third and fourth had been forced back, a small column rose from the floor in the center. On it stood a sphere of polished moonstone, both clear and opaque at the same time. 

Then, in the silvery mists of that stone, forms began to take shape. 

Four people were making their way through a dark cavern, approaching a smith's forge. On the anvil lay a blade, long and slender. The leader of the four grasped the blade and raised it above his head, a look of triumph on his face. Then there was a flash of light, and when it cleared all that remained of the four were their bones, fallen to the floor. The blade was back on the anvil. 

When the tableau had played out, the moonstone fractured, first in half, and then to dozens of small bits. 

At the south end of the plaza, a stone grated to one side, revealing an opening. 
*** 
"So what do you think it means?", Euphemia asked, once she had related what she saw.

"There's a tale, one of the old sagas, that speaks of something like this.", Penn observed, trying to recall the details. "It's one of those odd ones that says all were slain, and none ever returned from the place to tell the tale, yet obviously someone did or there wouldn't be a saga about it." He paused to smile at his own cleverness (not one of his more endearing qualities), but then continued. 

"It was called the Betrayer's Blade.", he began. "If it's the one I'm thinking of, it was forged by Hephaistus, with the aid of both Ares and Athena. The two war gods worked together, just this one time, and each betrayed the others' purpose. Ares wanted a weapon of glorious destruction, and Athena wanted one that would defend mortals. Pretending to aid Ares, Athena gave it the power to sunder any sword or shield that stood against it, and to cleave through gate or even stone wall, for if none could stand against it, battles would end quickly. Ares, in turn, gave it the power to feed on mortal souls. The weapon is said to fit the hand of whoever would wield it. Other tales say that it soon began to wield the hand, rather than the other way around, for such betrayal was forged into it from the beginning. It was hidden away, sent to the underworld for a time, but Hades would not keep it in his halls. In the end, the tale says, it was 'guarded by the twelve warriors', buried a league beneath the earth, between the living and the dead, there to tempt and draw the foolish to their doom." 

Euphemia looked around the temple. "There are twelve war gods here.", she said quietly. "Do you think that's what Dominus wanted Jason to find and bring back to him?" 

"If this is the place, then yes.", Penn said. 

"Should we tell the others?" 

"Well, those who seek to wield it are doomed, or so the legend goes. Sending someone who isn't trying to claim it is really the only way it can be retrieved. Even so, it's a weapon anyone would want, and if Jason felt that desire...", Penn paused in thought. "So, how much to you like the Ogre?" 

Euphemia gave Penn a dirty look. "You wouldn't do that to him, would you?" 

"No, not really. It's just that he's likely to try, with or without our advice, and the only way to stop him would be either deceit or treachery." 

"The thing inspires betrayal, even now, doesn't it?", she asked wryly.  
*** 
"Jason, I may have some bad news for you.", Penn called. The Ogre hesitated at the temple entrance, looking at the carnage on the floor, then advanced.

"Is this what you were looking for?", Penn asked, indicating the crumbled remains of the moonstone. 

"I'm not sure.", the Ogre said sadly. "It was supposed to be buried here. Dominus didn't know what it would look like, but he said I'd know it when I saw it." 

"Well, this came up from the floor, if that means anything.", Penn said. "And at this point, do you think Dominus is really going to pay you?" 

The Ogre looked puzzled as he considered the situation. "This might be it, it might not.", he concluded. "But that hole wasn't there before.", he added, pointing to the south wall. 

"I know.", agreed Euphemia quietly. "I think Dominus expected you and your men to die here, opening the way for him and those who followed." 

"Are you going down there?", the Ogre rumbled softly. 

"I think we are. You're free to come if you like." 

Again, the Ogre thought long before answering. "I think I'll wait here and ask Dominus what he wanted, when he gets here. Because he said he was going to meet me here, and I really want to ask him. Personally."
 
*******
"You, healer!", called Jason, and the slightly built Orc appeared next to him, out of nowhere.

"You're staying here.", the Ogre declared. "Give me that ring." 

The Orc covered his left hand protectively, cowering away from the Ogre. 

"Do you think I don't know what you're up to?", the Ogre said threateningly. "Why Dominus sent you along?" 

Penn interceded, saying "Perhaps he should accompany us on this trek. We're working together, after all, and it's only fair that you have someone from your group come along." 

"He's a spy, sent by Dominus to keep an eye on us.", Jason snarled. "And in any case, we may need a healer here before we're done." 

"Do you want Dominus' agent among your men when he arrives?", Penn countered. "Perhaps if Lady Apellenea will allow, she can stay with you as a healer, and your healer can come with us. That way you know that you can trust the healer, and we know that we can't trust yours." 

The twisting words of the Bard were lost on the Ogre, but the reasoning wasn't. 
***
As the companions entered the dark hall, they could see torch sconces lining the walls every fifty paces or so. As they passed the first one, it lit itself. The others followed suit, a long line of light extending as far as they could see.

"Well, at least it's welcoming.", Cassius commented. And they proceeded. 

The way was straight, though far from level. It sloped downward sharply for several hundred feet before the grade eased. The floor was well worn, as if it had been used for centuries, and the carvings along the way seemed familiar. 

"Say, isn't that...?", asked Euphemia. 

"Yes, that's Tantalus and his tree.", Penn confirmed. "These are scenes from the underworld." 

"I'll scout ahead.", offered the Orc Shaman, only to be pulled up short by Cassius strong hand on his shoulder. 

"We have people for that.", he said firmly. "You're the healer, so we need to keep you right here, where you'll be safe." His tone belied the kind words, and made it clear that they didn't trust him in the slightest. 

"So, why is he here?", asked Seeburn in a whisper. 

"If someone's going to fall to temptation and try to claim the weapon, let it be him.", came the reply. 

The Barbarian nodded, acknowledging the sad wisdom of the words. The Orc would live or die, not by their hands but by his own.  All felt the creeping power of the blade, that they would betray the Orc by allowing him to betray them.
*** 
The tunnel stretched on and on, for mile after mile. 

"Where is this tunnel going?", asked Cassius in exasperation. 

"Probably to the River Styx.", Nedel replied softly. "The weapon is said to rest between the living and the dead." 

"So if we get killed down here...?" 

"We won't have that far to go.", Nedel finished for him. 
*** 
The growing gnaw of hunger told them when supper time was approaching, rather than the usual clock of daylight, for no sunlight had ever reached this place, and in all likelihood none ever would. Not until the day the world was unmade.

Carefully they selected an alcove where they could make camp. They hadn't brought any firewood, and the torches that still lighted the way burned bright but cold. Their evening meal was salt beef and dry biscuits, and they were glad for that. 

Sleep was hard to come by, not merely because of the constant torchlight, but because somewhere, somehow, they could hear the silent footsteps of the dead as they passed by, unseen, on their way to their final fate. It was a non-sound, unheard by their mortal ears, but still very real. They'd been not-hearing it all day, but so long as they had kept moving with the unseen flow they had scarcely been aware of it. Now it flowed over them, past them, through them, like water over stones, and the silent sound was endless. 

Even the Orc, who refused to give his name, was cowed by the experience. He knew, as they all did, that this was a passage meant to be traveled in one direction only. The very thought of treachery fled from his mind in terror, for he knew that no one could travel back to the land of the living alone. 

Watches were set, not so much to guard against the terrors of the place, but because none could close their eyes unless they knew there would be a friendly face to open them to. 
*** 
Seeburn shivered in the not-cold, listening to the not-voices of the dead, trying to pass one final message back to the living. Messages that plead, words to loved ones, hated ones, prayers and curses, all mingled together in a silent babble that preyed upon the mind.

He looked across at Nedel, and could see that the Sorcerer was faring no better.  

Then the thundering silence was broken, suddenly, by a loud voice, and an immense shadow filled the area. 

"*I am the guardian of this place!*", rumbled the voice. *"All who pass must pay me tribute!"*

Seeburn was on his feet in a heartbeat, blade in hand, eyes searching the cavern for the source of the voice. The shadow was huge, and winged, the image of a Dragon, yet he could see nothing that could have cast such a shadow. 

*"Man most mortal, do not threaten me!"* , declared the guardian. *"Your lives are already forfeit by the path you have chosen. Pay my tribute, and you may yet find your way back into the sunlight."*
 [FONT=&quot]By this time all were awake, looking around in fear and consternation.

"What tribute do you demand.", Penn asked, once he had found his voice.

*"I demand all your apples!"*, declared the guardian, his voice breaking slightly.

"Apples?", the Bard asked in consternation. "We have no apples. The harvests have been poor." Checking his small supply of drinks, he located what he sought. "I can conjure some good hard cider, if that will do."

There was a long pause. "Then bring me this drink, and we'll call it even.", replied the voice, all traces of rolling thunder now absent from it.

"Have you a container to hold it? And perhaps some water?", Penn asked, now suspecting what was going on.

"Turn your back! To gaze upon me directly is death!", warned the voice, as the shadow suddenly fell from the wall to become something much smaller.

"Okay.", said the Bard, humoring the 'guardian'. "But we kind of know that you're not really a guardian dragon."

"What gave it away?", came the now squeaky voice from behind him.

"Well, you only asked me to turn. Everyone else can see you now, and they're smiling.", Penn explained, turning to face the voice.

Behind him, holding a golden bowl, sat a miniature dragon, jeweled bracelets adorning its forelegs.

"So, why apples?"

"I'm hungry, and I haven't had any fresh fruit in a long time.", the miniature dragon explained. "And most of the people who come here don't bring anything but hard-tack and sausage."

 "Why don't you go and get what you want?", Sylus asked. "The forests above are still fairly rich, once you get out of the temple grounds."

"I can't leave here. I have to wait for my master.", the dragon explained. "I know he's around someplace. But it's been so long..."

"Your master must be great, to have you as his familiar spirit.", Penn said, testing a theory.

"Oh, he is. But I haven't seen him in... I don't know. I can't see the sun, so I can't count the days."

"How long does a pseudo-dragon live?", asked Seeburn, cautiously, knowing that it had been years at a minimum since any had come this way.

"A familiar spirit will live as long as his master lives.", came the simple answer. "Somewhere, his master is still alive. He might be turned to stone, he might be in the Elysian Fields, but he's still alive."

The small reptile looked sad, and a bit puzzled. Then his expression changed.

"I remember now. My master is alive. In me.", he said simply. "Yes, I am a guardian, waiting for the right people, as foretold. The prophesy tells of a singer who is neither man nor beast, of men and fey from the north, the south, the east and the west. People who will finally destroy the Betrayer's Blade."

"Sounds like us.", Cassius laughed. "Penn is from the east, and is neither man nor beast. I'm from the south, Nedel and Sylus are from the north, and Euphemia and Seeburn are from the west."

"Then follow me. If you're right, then I'm free. If not, you're probably dead."

And the familiar lead them to a solid wall. He walked through it without pausing. After a moment's hesitation, the others followed, passing without resistance.

Within were the mortal remains of far too many men. The Pseudo-Dragon had moved their bones off to one side, and collected their valuables in a glittering pile.

At the far end of the chamber hung a long, slender blade, bound by a chain of cold iron.

As they watched, the blade changed. First it was straight, then longer and curved, as the horsemen of the northern steppes favored. Then it was a staff, cunningly wrought with weighted ends, Then a glittering dagger, razor sharp and barbed.

"Nedel, no!", Euphemia cried as the Sorcerer stepped forward to seize the weapon.

And for him, the world stood still, and a voice came into his head. _"I am the champion's blade, the foe hammer, bane of all opponents. Choose to wield me, and I will build you an empire. I will feast upon your enemies, and they will flee before you, for I am victory unbridled."_

The words were both sweet and chilling, but they lacked any power. They were just words, and Nedel found that he had no difficulty opening his hand and releasing the weapon. It howled as it fell to once more hang from its bonds.

"That was very foolish.", Sylus declared. "It might have killed you."

"Only if we were the wrong ones.", Nedel replied, his confidence growing. "I'm nothing like a warrior, so I knew that I'd be tempted the least by a weapon."

"The weapon's power is bound.", the Pseudo-Dragon added. "It could tempt, and it could kill, but it can't compel. It hasn't been fed in years, and the bindings on it will hold until it's released."

"Who can release it?"

"I can.", said the Familiar firmly. Then he began to rummage through one of the debris piles, pulling out bits of this and bits of that, until finally he emerged with a case of some dark wood, with bands of cold iron around it.

Then he took up a pair of tongs, like a smith might use, and carefully unhooked the chain from the loop on the wall. The weapon, currently a dagger, fit easily into the case, where small agile fingers secured it.

"My time here is now done.", the Pseudo-Dragon said. "My master can now move on to his rest, and I will find mine. Are you sure you don't have any apples?", he finished wistfully.

"Sorry, we really don't.", Nedel replied gently. "How do we destroy it?"

"I don't know. The prophecy simply says that you will." Then the small reptile turned to a different pile, one covered in a long cloak.

"There are rewards for this task, things you will need.", he explained, as he moved the thick cloak aside.

"You have a champion archer among you?", he asked, as he raised a bow. "This weapon may only be strung by such a champion. Its aim is true, and it will warn you when your enemies are near."

Next was a lyre of rich dark wood, with a broad sea shell in place of the normal tortoise shell, he turned to Penn. "This is the Lyre of the Sirens. It will add its own voice to yours, when needed."

For Seeburn there was a rich blade, and for Nedel there were magical bracers. Cassius found himself the owner of a greatsword that flicked light as a feather in his hands, but promised a crushing power when it hit. Euphemia was given a set of tools, well used and lovingly cared for, tools that seemed made for her small hands.

 Surprisingly, the Orc Healer found himself the owner of a gift as well. A long cord of oiled hide, braided with silver, draped across his open hands. Carefully, he began to twist it into the complex pattern of knots that made up his holy symbol.

"Take what you would of what's left.", the familiar offered. "But don't burden yourselves over much. You have a hard road ahead of you." [/FONT]


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## Greenfield (May 22, 2012)

******* 
As I said at the top, this is a transitional tale.  The adventure was run by Mr. M, and was an odd mixture of both the whimsical and the macabre.

The tale will continue next week.


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