# Promises to Keep



## Van Dyksun (Jul 9, 2002)

> _The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
> But I have promises to keep,
> And miles to go before I sleep,
> And miles to go before I sleep._
> ----Robert Frost, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"




*Promises to Keep*

An adventure in the Forgotten Realms (D&D3E)

Characters:*Aoth Sepret* (human Rgr 1/Rog 3/Wiz 3), *Kaemris Tencoin* (human Clr 6/Aus 1), *Lenet cor Tarak* (genasi Ftr 3/Sor 3), *Van Dyksun* (human Rgr 3/Rog 2/Clr 2)

_Stones in the Road 
from the journal of Kaemris Tencoin_

_16th of Ches, 1373 DR, Year of Rogue Dragons_

Strange and wonderful things have always happened at the Fortunate Minotaur.  Take today’s events for example:

As soon as the pair of travelers entered my taproom, I took interest in them.  They claimed that they were seeking traveling swordarms for a journey into the forests east of Arabel.

Yet they looked more like a pair of boys.  An unlikely pair, at that.

Boys who’d had their share of battles, of course–each bore a few blade scars–but for all that still young men.  I put the polite and gangly white-haired archer at eighteen, and the other at just that or slightly less, perhaps seventeen. He was a forthright Southron with skin the color of rich tea and concentric circles etched into his forehead.  

They took a table and ordered–as I recall–the mutton, with ale.  The white-hair, who said his name was Van Dyksun, made it plain that he was touched by Selûne’s grace.  He bore the crescent and Tear on a fine silver chain round his neck.

The other introduced himself as Aoth Sepret, the first part of which is pronounced like “Out.”  He is Mulhorandi.  Curious.  They stayed for hours and hours by the hearth, drinking ale.  They drank, and I drank with them from time to time, until finally Van commenced to speak about what he called their “mission.”

“We’re on a mission,” explained the white-hair amiably, “and we’re on an adventure to Hullack Forest.”

“An adventure, is it?”

“Well, that is…we’re keeping it under our hats.”

“Ah.  A secret mission then.  With what aim?”

“To put an end to these caravan raids.  They say wild elves are to blame.”

Amazing!  Two weeks ago the genasi, Lenet cor Tarak, arrives, and now this.

When they discovered my devotion to the Lady Who Smiles they urged me to join them.  I protested that I was only an innkeeper, and had no interest in running pell-mell across the countryside, but no amount of excuses could deter them.  

Finally I agreed that when morning came I would go with them.  Even if it is just to see to their safety I’ll join them, but I admit I am also curious to know if wild elves are to blame.  Whenever I have met them in my travels, the green elves have been shy, perhaps a little skittish at times, but never violent.  Something is definitely amiss.

I told them that we’d also be taking Lenet along.  She is the tiefling I mentioned earlier: a fire genasi from the Lake of Steam.  She was, I told them, staying in this very inn.  She seemed a competent warrior, with the strong scent of the arcane about her, her hair always wind-blown despite the stillness of the air.  “Now isn’t that lucky?” I asked them.

Well, you’ll want to know something about me, I suppose, since this journal is, after all, a record of my journey to Hullack Forest.  I am Kaemris Tencoin, of the Tencoins of Arabel, son of Danaan.  Although I have traveled the lands all around Arabel–and fought the Grodd army at Hangman’s Court during the Ghazneth War–I am currently an innkeeper, helping my father, mother and sisters to run our family inn, the Fortunate Minotaur.  

Recently I was inducted into the diplomatic and military Order of Auspicians, but only after I was lucky (and hearty) enough to survive the test of Tyche’s Blood.  The poisonous draught sickened me for a night and a day, but it did not kill.  By the Lady’s grace, of course.

Danaan Tencoin is prone to long silences these days, and is frequently away at Immersea bartering for supplies in the lake markets.  This is particularly difficult time for my father–we heard recently that my Uncle Ulodrin was killed in the Haunted Halls last summer.  Ulodrin was a traveling cleric of Tymora, like me, and my family is unlikely to take the news well that I am once again setting off on my own journey.

Selûne is waning…it will be dark on the trail.  I sleep with Tymora’s grace within me.

_17th of Ches_

We set out on horseback this morning: Aoth, Lenet, Van and myself.

My mother sobbed, and my father just wished me all the luck in Tymora’s Chalice and  turned away.  My sisters, accustomed only to the drudgery of running an inn, watched me go with joyful smiles and tears streaming down their cheeks.  It was difficult to tell if they were more saddened or envious at my leaving.

We’ve been riding a full day, but not yet reached Hullack.  My companions were impressed with my fashionable Cloak’s ability to produce food and sugared tea, I must say, and even more impressed when the miraculous garment shook out into a one-person tent at dusk.  Truly my most prized possession, it is.  

We set turns and begin a long, chilly spring night’s rest.  I’m resting in the tent as I write, but I’ll have to turn down the lantern and sleep soon.  Then the everburning torch will have to keep away the gloom for the rest of the night.  Call it a fault, if you will, but I can’t stand the dark.  It absolutely knocks the wits out of me; sets my skin to shivering.  I sleep now with Tymora’s light in my dreams.

_18th of Ches_

Around midday we crossed the Immersea River at Selvereth’s Ford.  Two stony banks crowded close, spanned by a stout wooden bridge, while a roil of blue water tumbled over the falls just downriver.  We took a meal in a shady grove just east of the Immersea, and I listened to starlings quarreling loudly in the boughs of nearby elms.

My companions and I have traveled all through the day, and now that it is twilight and once everyone has had enough of riding we find ourselves a high pasture in which to camp and keep watch over the road.  We are camped among pines near the road, which has become little more than a cart track.  I’ve gotten to know the others a little better, learning for instance that Aoth left Mulhorand to work as a caravan guard, and that Van was one of Selûne’s Champions, who had only last fall reopened the way to the lost dwarven city of Aerunedar.  

I’ve learned that we are agents the Lord Mage Ironcrest of Eveningstar; that he is the impetus behind Van and Aoth’s journey to Arabel, and our journey to Hullack.  Tymora’s fortune shall ride beside us.

_19th of Ches_

At dusk we reached the fringes of Hullack Forest, and made our way into the trees to make camp.  Cloaked and crouching, Aoth crept away and fairly vanished into the shadows.  We waited astride our horses in the thickening twilight, breathing in brisk white puffs.

Aoth appeared at our side.  “Spiders,” he said, “and webs.”  He poked a thumb in the direction from which he had sneaked.

We could have moved on, got out of there quick–but we all paused too long.  We looked around at each other, questioning, while the moment of leaving crept away, and it seemed to me as if we had all arrived at the same conclusion without speaking a word: we weren’t going to let a few _arachnids_ get between us and our mission.

They came scuttling out of the pines: great hairy black and brown spiders with colorful markings.  They struck me as more of a nuisance than a real threat, but our group tactics could use some work.  Must remember to work on that with my companions.

Van’s bow, Stonegroan, sent deadly arrows to the eight-legged mark.  Lenet and Aoth moved to hack at the spiders with blades, while I summoned a spirit of the earth from a nearby hillside.  At the price of a few painful stings, we crushed the spiders in short order.

In the webs, we found a very large cocoon.  Driven by morbid curiosity, I suppose, we sliced it free and caused it to burst open.  Liquified flesh, bones and a few random coins spilled out the unfortunate creature.  Quite repulsive, truthfully.  I say creature, because I wasn't sure it was humanoid; the bones were elongated and almost birdlike–perhaps those of a wild elf.  A clue…or an omen?  Tymora is inscrutable in this.  Perhaps tomorrow I will petition more forcefully to know what our fate might hold…

_20th of Ches_

These woods are unnaturally still.  No more bird songs or chattering squirrels.  We have seen no deer or bears, no elk or even field mice.  I flew up above the canopy of trees to look for landmarks, and thought I spied a wide hill in the distance, an enormous stony horse etched into its grassy slope.

Later we discovered a caravan cart, and the decaying bodies of those who accompanied it.  A terrible scene of destruction.  We tended to burials and blessings as efficiently as possible, and began a thorough search of the area.

Tracks were few in number, almost nonexistent.  It was as though the forest itself had fired the arrows that stuck out of the bodies, one in each, all of them killed with precision.  The horses were all gone.  In fact, nothing had been taken from the caravan cart but food.  The rest of the goods–some of them quite valuable–were untouched.  If the wild elves are starving, then their rampage begins to make more sense.  But what could anger them enough to bring on slaughters like this one?  I don’t understand.

Once we had surveyed the situation, I attempted to divine what action we might take to track down and locate the assailants responsible.  Still the Lady gives no answer.  We place ourselves in fate’s hands, and trust to the Luck of the Lady.  It is all we can do.

_21st of Ches_

I write this entry with a heavy heart, at the farmhouse of Tarbee, the man who was kind enough to invite us into his home on this dark and miserable night.  It was misty and dripping, cold and utterly silent, for the entire journey today.  Then things grew worse.

We were surprised to find a halfling sprinting toward us, screaming in terror, “He’s after me!  He’s after me!  Don’t let him kill me, please!”

An armored horseman thundered into view, flickering like eldritch mist, looming like a black cloud over the Tallfellow’s shoulder.  It raised a sword, coming forward much faster than we could reach the poor halfling and save his life.  With a choked squeak the small one collapsed under the falling blade.

On it came, the insubstantial and yet all-too-solid horseman.  I commanded it, in Tymora’s name, to flee this place and never again return to plague my sight.  It was, shall we say, completely unimpressed.  Van and Aoth moved to fight the grim visage, but it reared and fled.

I conjured a spirit of fire to cut off escape, and we ran to stop the fleeing highwayman, but he sped away on rapid hoofbeats.  The dead halfling lay crumpled in the mud, pockets full of acorns.

Just around the bend we found two more corpses, and a cart filled with empty food sacks.  Curiouser still.  

I intone a prayer to Our Smiling Lady, humbly requesting a sparrow who could deliver a message to Eveningstar.  It took quite a long time, much longer than usual, for the tiny brown bird to arrive.  When it did I tied a message to its leg: 

_Lord Mage Ironcrest,

Terrible events have overtaken Hullack Forest
Famine plagues the land
Please send what relief you can.

Yours truly,
Kaemris Tencoin, Journeyman of the Order of Auspicians
companion to Aoth Spret, Lenet cor Tarak, and Van Dyksun_

I will patiently and faithfully await a reply.

From the sound of it, Van Dyksun and Tanasha, the farmer’s malnourished yet ravishing daughter, have finished their dalliance for this evening.  Ah…young love.  In the midst of misfortune it lives on.  I think I will keep the lamp lit tonight; best to be safe in a strange farmhouse.  By Tymora’s grace.

_22nd of Ches_

This morning I spoke to the dead halfling.  He could tell me nothing of the horseman or the wild elves that we do not already know.  And the acorns in his pocket were only meant to be food.  That eliminates entire hierarchies of theories regarding the seeming curse that has fallen over Hullack, driving away wild game and shriveling Tarbee’s crops.

We departed Tarbee’s house early, with the intact caravan carts in tow, headed for the village of Ossington.  The weather is still wet and cold, an oppressive mist filling the valleys and groves of the forest.

Along the way we discovered a ring of stones just off the road, which we later learned was called The Chapel.  Each of the stones was devoted to a god, nine in all, including Silvanus, Kelemvor, Mielikki, Selûne, and Tymora herself: all the neutral gods of travelers and forests.  A woman called Henwen, who has madness shining in her black eyes and wields some sort of necromantic staff, acts as caretaker.  We could make little of her mad pronouncements, but I fear we will have to return there at some point.

And now, although I am loathe to do it, I must recount the ambush we suffered at Ossington.  The village itself is surrounded by standing stones (ninety-one in an outer circle, standing 30 feet high) and twenty-eight in the inner circle (each 20 feet tall). There are three "trilithons" in the center of the inner circle, each made of two 30-foot-tall uprights with a lintel-stone bridging the dozen or so feet between them. The stones have something carved into them, but we have not yet deciphered the script, to my knowledge.

The village looked a lot like this:







We were met by the starving and pitiful villagers of Ossington.  They begged us for food, but we had little to offer.  Elder Murdows identified the bodies and the carts we drew into town, and told us more about their misfortune, and their hunger.  The villagers were unable to till the soil because of the continuing attacks by elves and the horseman.  A local bard called the Cuckoo strummed a few mournful chords on his lute.

About the mysterious horseman: Murdows said that when he first rode into Ossington, he seemed as real as I, and the villagers welcomed him.  He was visiting the five ancient ruins of this area (The Chapel (tended by Mad Henwen), the Circles (which surround the village of Ossington), the Secret Keepers, the Old Barrow, and the Red Horse).  But when the horseman reappeared, he simply silently and swiftly attacked the surprised townfolk.

It happened so quickly, we hardly knew how to react.

A single arrow buried itself in Elder Murdow’s heart.  He collapsed with shocked eyes, and an enormous owl swept into the courtyard, along with other birds, to attack.  Villagers and their children screamed and ran pell-mell about the courtyard.  With arrows and crossbows we drove off the birds and _dispelled_ the summoned owl, causing a villager held in its claws to fall to his death.  A death which weighs heavily with me, since I was more or less the cause.

The Cuckoo finished strumming his lute with a final haunting chord, having spent the entire time inspiring us to greater effort with his song.

There was something very wrong with how we handled the situation; by killing and driving off forest creatures, we may have done irreparable harm to our chances a reaching a diplomatic solution for this clash between wild elves and humans.  We will see what develops on that front.

The peasants, who had before been standing in the open, were now cowering in their doorways, their eyes pleading with us from afar for food.  We met Dyson and Tully then, a pair of semi-retired adventurers wounded from recent battles with the horseman.  They claim that the horseman is allied with the wild elves, who mean to eliminate Ossington. 

Something tells me that were we to ask them, the wild elves would claim that Ossington is in league with the horseman, and together they have conspired to chase away all the creatures of the forest.  The elves, no doubt, believe they are fighting for their very lives and ancestral home.  In short, whatever curse has befallen this forest has caused a tragic misunderstanding between two peoples.

The horseman holds the answer, along with those five places Elder Murdows spoke of.  We continue our search tomorrow morning.  For now, I must brighten the room with magical torchlight and sleep.  We will discover answers to this riddle tomorrow, by Tymora’s grace.


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jul 10, 2002)

Great stuff, the diary style of writing really helps to drag you into the world - you get a real impression of the pressure that the characters are under (and this is just the start!).

Is the Ossington map from an adventure pack? I can't remember the town from anywhere...


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## Kaemris Tencoin (Jul 10, 2002)

Thanks, Spider.  I'm hoping that a different player will write a PC journal for each of the projected three sessions that will comprise "Promises to Keep."

I do believe Van is using _The Standing Stone_.


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## Van Dyksun (Jul 10, 2002)

Yes, it's _The Standing Stone_, modified slightly to fit into Hullack Forest and the Forgotten Realms (but not modified enough, as I found out last session when I went to talk about the gods at the chapel--that was an "oops!").

Thanks for the comments.  Kaemris did a great job of summarizing things, and because he wrote it instead of me, he didn't give away any of the mysteries.


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## Mahiro Satsu (Jul 25, 2002)

*To Kaemris*

The name is Aoth Sepret, not Spret.  Spet sounds too much like _ sprite_ if I have your strange language correct.  Luckily I glanced at your journal while you were sleeping, Kaemris, or the ages would have remembered me falsely.

(ooc) Van, i'd be happy to write the journal for the session on the third.


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## ForceUser (Jul 25, 2002)

Good start!



> Whose woods these are I think I know;
> His house is in the village, though.
> He will not see me stopping here
> To watch his woods fill up with snow.




I love that poem


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## Van Dyksun (Jul 25, 2002)

Edited post and fixed name.  Sorry about that, Aoth!

And I'll gladly take you up on your offer to write the next summary.  Heh--I'll get to comment on your writing once again!  Wheeee!


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## madriel (Jul 26, 2002)

I remember Van Dyksun from Tom Cashel's Aerundar story hour.  Are any of the other players from that group?


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## Mahiro Satsu (Jul 27, 2002)

yes, i believe that Tom Cashel is now Kaemris Tencoin.


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## Tom Cashel (Jul 28, 2002)

At times, yes.


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## Kaemris Tencoin (Jul 30, 2002)

At other times, no.

Hey, this thing will be updated VERY soon, no?


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## Van Dyksun (Jul 30, 2002)

Yep.  We'll see how fast Mahiro's typing fingers can get the latest down after Saturday's game.


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## Broccli_Head (Aug 1, 2002)

Hah! Found Van Dyksun again.  You guys know I'm a sucker for a Tale in the Forgotten Realms. 

Glad to see the _Standing Stone_ being played. 

I'll try and keep track of all the NPCs in this tale.


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## Van Dyksun (Aug 1, 2002)

*You can't get rid of us that easily*

We hope that we make up in quality what we lack in quantity.  That's the trouble with being older and having jobs, etc.--now that you have the money to finance your hobby, you don't have the time to engage in it!


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## Mahiro Satsu (Aug 1, 2002)

Speak for yourself Van.


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## Van Dyksun (Aug 2, 2002)

*Ouch*

Well, okay, *some* of us have money and no time, while others have time and no money.  The eternal dichotomy.


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## Van Dyksun (Aug 8, 2002)

> “My little horse must think it queer
> To stop without a farmhouse near
> Between the woods and frozen lake
> _The darkest evening of the Year_.”
> --Robert Frost: “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”




An adventure in the Forgotten Realms (D&D3E)

Characters: Aoth Sepret (human Rgr 1/Rog 3/Wiz 3), Artemus Thornwind (Human Drd 7), Kaemris “Danger” Tencoin (human Clr 6/Aus 1), Lenet cor Tarak (genasi Ftr 3/Sor 3), Van Dyksun (human Rgr 3/Rog 2/Clr 2) 

Into the Woods
From the Journal of Aoth Sepret

*23rd of Ches, Year of Rogue Dragons*

We have decided to look for the wild elves that we suspect ambushed the village yesterday.  I wish to find them and enact justice upon theses murderous savages, but Kaemris has cautioned me about jumping to conclusions.  Sadly we have no definitive clues as to their whereabouts.  All we know is that they live to the west of Ossington.  Arrangements were made for our horses to be guarded by Tully and Dyson while we were not in the village; they warned us to return soon else they be eaten by the starving villagers.

A few hours before noon, the party set out in a west-by-north-westerly direction through the woods. I assumed my position half a dozen paces in front of the party.  I enjoy the solitude I have at the point position, and I know my stealth keeps me protected much better than the company of my noisy companions.  The woods we then walked through were tamer, almost reasonable, and I began to doubt our leader’s decision to leave the horses in town.  The quiet was deafening, however; not a creature stirred, nor bird twittered in the branches above us.  Ever since entering this forest some days ago, I have not seen or heard the presence of another living creature.  Sometimes I fear that I have come to the end of the earth, and the hells lay beyond the next tree line.

The silence was broken an hour into our trek, when the thunderous sound of hoof beats was heard, approaching quickly.  A fear of unnatural power descended upon us and I attempted to flee into the woods.  I do not remember much for the next few moments, just the desire to put as much distance between me and that sound as soon as humanly possible.  The following description is based on the tale my companions spun around the campfire that night.

After I fled into the woods, Van spotted the source of the noise.  Beyond the closest trees came the specter of the Horseman atop his demon steed.   With the sound of stone on stone, Van put his mighty bow, Stonegroan, to work by placing two arrows into the phantom.  Kaemris called upon his goddess to calm Lenet, who was also taken by the horror.  “Do not fear, for Tymora protects us,” he told her, and she became calm again.  As the horseman closed upon them, Van continued to put Stonegroan to work and Kaemris said a prayer to his goddess.  Lent lunged forward, drawing her sword, but the horseman charged past her trying to end the painful stings of Van’s bow.  The demon steed’s hooves smashed into Vans head as he retreated, dropping his bow and brandishing his sword.  Kaemris remained cool headed and struck flint on steel to call forth a fire elemental.  The horse’s hooves continued to rain down on Van, but he managed to strike a mighty blow against the rider, dissipating the otherworldly being.

Then the ground underneath the horse exploded with twisting vines that entangled its legs.  Now on fire from the elemental’s flames and held by the mysterious vines, the horse panicked and tried to flee.  Van’s swordarm, having felled its rider, now cut at the beast.  A ball of flame appeared underneath the horse scorching it further.  Hemmed in by flame and steel, the horse, fueled by fear, broke free of its bonds and fled, while the hunter now became the hunted.  Seeking escape, the horse's hoof sank through Kaemris who said afterwards that it felt as if a corruption had tugged at his soul.  

Around this time I came to my senses.  I was not far from the fighting; I could hear Kaemris shrieking not far away.  But I was in the middle of about fifty dead elves, a massacre site.  I couldn't spend time looking at this, running to aid my companions, following the sound of Kaemris’s voice.  I let fly an arrow from my longbow when I could see the melee, but I do not know if I hit or not.  From my niche I could see the burning horse with Van and Lenet swinging their swords, each strike passing through the insubstantial horse.  Kaemris began to swell in size, apparently fueled by divine power.  But the horse succumbed to the flames in the end, I suppose, for it disappeared.

The source of the mysterious undergrowth and the flaming sphere emerged from the undergrowth a moment later.  His name was Artemus Thornwind, and he was a Druid of the northern god Silvanus.  Turns out that he was studying plants on the outskirts of the forest when he saw a sparrow fly past.  Having not seen a living creature in a few days he called to it and learned of our mission, for it was the sparrow that was to give Lord Ironcrest Kaemris’s message.  Artemus desires to return the forest to its natural order, and believes that we can help him.  He has seen a number of devious traps about the forest and has identified them as the work of wild elves.  I realized I would have to be careful to help my friends avoid these inconveniences.  

I directed the party to the site of the massacre.  My initial assumption that they were elves cannot be confirmed; the bodies are too far rotted.  We searched the bodies for a time looking for clues, but found none.  Van, who was searching the perimeter, could not find any tracks.  This is not surprising for the bodies have been here for weeks and it rained a few days ago.  

(Reader’s note:  the following four pages are filled with notes about the placement of bodies, diagrams of the site, and hypotheses on escape avenues.  All of it is over technical and quite boring.  We have left them out for  your reading enjoyment.)

We finished our investigation and I climbed a tree looking for landmarks so we could gauge our progress.  I saw a squirrel creature with cat ears on my way up the tree and called out to my friends, "A living thing!"  Sadly, it ran, hopping from branch to branch at the sound of my voice.  In the distance, approximately three miles away, I could see the site known as red horse hill, its clay surface easily visible from my high perch.  About half a mile away I saw a structure.  I looked as if trees had been bent over to create a home of sorts.  Thinking it may be a part of the Grugach community we set out for it.  

We reached the site a few moments later, but did not see any other dwellings.  Mindful of traps I searched around the structure but found nothing.  Kaemris cast a spell of detect magic and studied the structure.  It glowed with a moderate illusion spell.  I warned him not to go near, but the northerner did not listen.  He walked up to the structure and knocked on the wooden doorframe.  The hovel disappeared and was replaced by two trees with a sharpened log suspended between them.  I witnessed the log fly down from the trees in profile, and when it hit Kaemris I believed we would be voting on a new leader soon.  The log was over a foot and a half thick, with a vicious point at the end.  It impaled Kaemris through the side and knocked him off his feet.  

“Never do that,” he said to no one in particular as he stood up.  

His clothes were a bloody mess.  I know that if I had been in his place they would have buried me in a shallow grave.  That priest is made of strong stuff.  All he did was mutter about “the hazards of the road” and call on his goddess for a boon of healing.  Van took his cue and called upon Selune to heal himself from the earlier battle.  I spent the rest of the day cursing myself for not being more vigilant.  Even though we all had our suspicions, Artemus announced that this was the work of wild elves.  Time came to move on and we walked to red horse hill.

I smelled the Hill before we reached it.  It was a bog smell--death decay, stagnation, and unholiness. Soon the trees parted and we could see the stench.  There was a small pond on one side of the hill.  Its red clay banks led into the pond turning the water a brackish red color, the color of blood.  It reminded me of the sands around Uthalass after our invasion.  No insects buzzed around the pound, but that was not surprising.  The entire area was dead.  The hill itself was almost unremarkable next to the death pond.  Short grass, burnt brown by the sun, covered the hill except for the red clay mound formed into the shape of a horse.  Maybe the people who built the mound used clay from the pond.  Maybe there was not a pond before they built the mound.  That would explain the lack of life.

As we neared the pond a solemn figure rose from its waters, the Horseman atop the devil steed.  He starred at us for a moment, and when we did not move, turned his horse and moved to a spot about thirty feet from his initial position.  With a salute he descended into the waters, vanishing.  Someone, truthfully I do not know who for I was transfixed by the spectacle before me, said that he had given the sign of a god named Torm.  Later I learned that it was the Northern god of Paladins.  Suspecting that this was his final resting place, we devised a plan to inspect the lake.

Artemus, we believed, was the strongest swimmer.  I know I could not swim; I come from a dry place.  So we tied my silk rope about his waist and told him to tug twice, sharply, if he had any trouble.  He waded out into the lake, holding a crystal enchanted with one of Keamris’s light spells between his teeth.  After ten feet the water was only up to his ankles, and ten feet later only to mid calf.  By the time he arrived where the horseman had disappeared, the water rose only to his knees.  He searched the area for a few moments and found nothing.  I waded out to him, keeping my hand on the rope for fear of hidden holes or an undercurrent.  When I reached Artemus, I could see why he was having trouble.  The chalky blood colored water was opaque after only an inch or so.  Thoth must have been with me, for after a few moments I uncovered the secret of the pond.  From the water we pulled a skeleton, some rusted armor, and other adventuring supplies from the lake.

On the shore we assembled the bones and had one nearly complete human skeleton and one of a large horse.  Curiously, the human's head was missing.  After a brief discussion of what to do next, and how to appease all three gods that our priests served, it was decided to give the noble man a decent resting place.  We dressed him in his armor, gave him his sword and buried him beneath a tree.  The tree was Aretmus’s idea, and it was next to the path in deference to Kaemris. From one of the low hanging branches we hung his holy symbol, where the first rays of the rising moon could illuminate it.  I respect Van for that touch.  It will be a stirring memorial.   It was a solemn funeral, and long overdue.  Kaemris said some prayers, as did Artemus and Van.  Lenet and I watched quietly, respecting the priests as they worked, though I must admit I had to fight an impulse to take notes.

We have camped this night a few yards from the tree.  The moon is indeed beautiful.  I have taken second watch, as usual.  Soon Artemus will relieve me.  I hope he comes soon, for my Darkvision spell is about to expi…

*24th of Ches, Year of Rogue Dragons*

We set out early, with the sun full on our faces.  We attempted to travel between the groves of trees to avoid the devious traps of the wild elves.  The sun rose in its climb, Horus-Re in his youth.  An hour into our walk Kaemris advised me to climb a tree and check our position.  The tree was a little slick with dew and the climb was difficult.  I made little progress reaching the lowest of the branches.  So I shucked my shoes and drank one of my potions of spiderclimb, almost choking on the spider.  

From the top of the tree I could see a mound about seven or eight miles to the east, and I could see the top of Ossington’s stone rings six miles to the south.  On my way down I spotted two more of the Squirrel/Creatures and my weasel familiar, Squirrel, bristled.  I finish my climb and told Artemus of the creatures, who then immediately took to the tree himself.  Before he was lost in the canopy we witnessed him transforming into a squirrel to give chase.  A few moments later he returned, reporting that he had lost them in the trees.  Offhandedly he mentioned that my description of these things reminded him of a legend about small innocent looking creatures that could swarm unwary travelers, killing them swiftly.

A while later I was pulled off my feet and into a tree.  I hung upside down thinking of poor Kaemris and his accident yesterday and how I had vowed to be more vigilant.  I have failed my friends.  Giving a shrug I cut the line and floated gently down to the ground.  On my way down Kaemris yelled to Artemus that another one of those creatures is near by and Artemus attempted to speak to it in a forest language, Sylvan, I think.  There was no response that I could hear, and Artemus said nothing.  Maybe it was gone.

We continued on to the Great Burrow. The forest was quiet around us, and we saw no other signs of either the squirrel beasts or elven tricks.  Something even more sinister attacked us though.  As always, I was in front of the party, scouting the way, when suddenly all around us the trees started moving.  They literally uprooted and marched to flank us.  I did not know what was happening.  I think that these northern forests are too strange for me.  I think that I should go back to Mulhorund. 

To the left a giant oak was moving to attack Kaemris, and to the right an elm made for Artemus.  I backed away fearing for my life.  Van backed in closer to his companions.  Kaemris did nothing; I think he was scared too.  Artemus, who is better versed in all things natural, realized that these were not the tree-like creatures he calls Treants, and using his druidic magic dispelled the animating forces.  The trees took root where they stood.  

The victory was short-lived, however; two more trees animated and resumed the attack.  One of them was right behind me; its powerful limbs knocked me to the ground.  I tried to get away, but the tree was quick and its next blow, I fear, crushed my spine.  I went numb then screamed as everything went black.  I awoke seconds later with the ranger of Selune crouching over me, praying for his goddess to heal me.  Although I do not believe in his goddess, his words held power and I felt some strength returning.

I saw Kaemris hand the druid a bottle, and Artemus drank it while the priest explained that it would give power to any spoken words.  

Artemus called to the forest, “We are friends of the forest!  Cease your attack, that we might strengthen it!”

The trees took root once more, returning the forest to some semblance of order.  Kaemris tossed a small wooden coin to the ground and a giant oak sprang into existence.  

“Please accept this gift!” Artemus said.  

The new large oak uprooted itself and moved away from our party five feet.  Further dialogue yielded no more actions from the trees.  Not wishing to provoke another attack we quietly left and continued our journey.  We could never spot the treant who we believe had animated those trees.

An hour later we reached the Burrows.  It was a single hill five hundred feet around, and vaguely circular, but the top is only a hundred feet high.  There were two giant black stone pillars, roughly cut and square holding another slab of rock above an opening.  The rocks were jet black. Lenet cast a magical spell, then read the inscription that was engraved on them: “Saithnar the Warlord.”

The genasi’s eyes were well-suited for looking into the opening.  It formed a tunnel that ran back some ways into the mound, ending in ten-foot square room.  She could see at the far end of the room an altar.  In front of the altar lay a mangled skeleton.

Sensing trouble, Kaemris called to his goddess asking for a boon.  He received an auger stating “Woe to those who enter.”  Thinking there might be another entrance somewhere else on the mound we scaled its side and searched from above.  It was getting dark by this point so we made for a hill about fifteen minutes away and struck camp.  

While we ascended the hill that was to be our home for the evening, I saw one of those creatures.  

I pointed it out to the druid and he replied, “I don’t like these things.”  Then he went silent.

Fearing what may come out of the mound by moonlight we decided to double up on guard shifts.  Van will take second watch with me, so that he may meditate by moonlight.

*25th of Ches, Year of Rogue Dragons*

It was not long after Van and I were awakened for our shift that the attack came.  My eyes glowed with magic, my darkvision spell allowing me to see clearly even in the darkest of nights.  Even with this advantage I did not see them coming.  Six of the squirrel creatures descended from the trees within the campsite.  

One latched onto Van’s arm, and his cries of pain ran down my spine.  Lenet was bitten while she slept, one bit my foot as I tried to kick it away, Artemus was also bitten in his sleep, and one more slipped into Kaemris’s tent.  Kaemris grabbed his holy staff and whispering an incantation flew out of his tent and into the night, high above us.  Van, surprised and injured, moved so quickly to draw his sword that he fumbled and it fell to the ground.  Lenet was still half asleep and her hands could not hold onto her dagger.  Artemus cast a spell that froze the creature attacking him where it crouched.

The creatures bit and scratched with intensity, their claws leaving deep wounds.  The frozen creature met a swift end at the tip of my rapier.  Lenet finally managed to stand up and ready a dagger just as Artemus created a flaming sphere, setting one of the creatures on fire.  Kaemris cast a spell to learn more about these creatures and discovered, as he shouted to us, that they were evil.

I cartwheeled around one of the creatures to land across from Lenet, but I could not hit the creature we then flanked.  Several of the creatures bled freely from wounds now, and one was on fire.  They ran screeching into the night.  I followed, putting out little fires started by the flaming one--it would not be good to have a forest fire started around us.  I stuffed the dead creature into a sack so that we could study it in better light.

When daylight came I spent some time making notes about the creature.   It looked more monkey-like than I had originally thought.  Lenet was at my side watching and remarked that the creature was not of this world.

Kaemris communed with his god asking “for advice on who is bringing evil outsiders to this forest, the source, the origin.”  He received “Those who dabble with the power of the stones bring nothing good to this forest,” for an answer.  Discouraged we picked up our things and began the day’s march.

We walked southeast for an hour before we came across one of the villagers.  He was hanging from a tree with many wild elf arrows imbedded in his flesh.  The body had only been hanging there a week, and the stench was over powering.  Vines were used to suspend his body.  We took the time to give him a proper burial.  I don’t understand why we have to bury every dead person we come across.  Certainly it is not to prevent disease.  Maybe it is one of their strange religious things.

We turned south a short time later.  The forest grew thick and dark as we walked.  I tried to pick up the pace, but to no avail.  An hour later Kaemris spotted a man with a bow hiding beneath some trees on top of a small rise.  His hair was long and unkempt, streaked with mud and grease.  His features were sharp and chiseled, and his ears pointed. He raised his bow and fired at the priest, but it passed harmlessly above Kaemris’s shoulder.  A second arrow embedded near his heart, but Kaemris did not show any reaction.

“Hold your fire!” Kaemris commanded.

Artemus was already in the middle of a spell and couldn’t stop.  Suddenly the underbrush around the elf grew thick with wickedly thorned vines.  Van and I, arrows knocked in our bows, retreated deeper into the undergrowth.

Tymora’s priest opened a dimensional door and stepped through to stand next to the elf.  I thought he had given up on our quest and meant to die, but in a loud voice he said, “We mean you no harm.”  The elf blinked uncomprehendingly; so I translated his words into elvish adding, “do not attack.”  Kaemris dropped to his knees suddenly and held his arms out wide, pleading.

Off to the side Lenet called out in elven, “We are trying to heal the forest, and help those who dwell within!”

The elf seemed confused.  He raised his sword and plunged it deep into Kaemris’s chest.  Fearing for his life I quickly cast a spell, and an arrow sped from my hands into the elf’s side, pumping acid into his body.  To my surprise Kaemris pulled a wand from his belt and waved it at the elf, and the gruesome wound in the elf's side closed.  I slumped to the forest floor in confusion.  I did not know what Kaemris wanted us to do.  

The elf then fled through the magical brambles, tearing his feet to shreds.  He limped off into the forest with Kaemris shouting after him that he could heal his wounds, that his companions were scared, that we meant no harm.  When the elf did not stop, Kaemris gave chase, and his feet also were torn.

I followed, not knowing what the elf would do to our leader without reinforcements.  I came across Kaemris a few dozen yards into the underbrush.  He was on his knees.  I think he was crying.  I kept to the shadows, not wanting to alert him that he was not alone.  I knew that I had let him down.  Surely, I thought, he would understand that I was simply trying to protect him.  Later I would learn that if he did, he didn’t care.  Artemus and I had disobeyed a direct order not to fire.  We received a scolding when Kaemris arrived back to where the party waited.  Never had I felt so low.

After I climbed a tree to check our bearing we continued on to the Silent Watchers.  Legend said that this was the place where druids had been turned to stone.  All we found was a ring of broken and weathered worn stones, no higher than my knees.  We searched though the area for any clue that might help us.  Finding nothing we made camp.  

From the trees came a flash of light and an arrow imbedded itself in Kaemris.  We heard no other noise, and no further attacks came.  At the time I was inspecting the stones with the aid of a detect magic cantrip.  I found no magic present in the stones, but the arrow was enchanted with an enchantment spell.  The school of enchantment is not well known to me, so I could not tell what spell had been used.

That night Lenet left a ration outside of the campfire’s light.  It was a gift to the elves.  I did not understand how we could give a gift to those who would kill us.  Maybe these men and this woman I travel with are more than me.  Van and I have first shift tonight.  It will be nice to sleep the entire night through.

*26th of Ches, Year of Rogue Dragons*

When we awoke, the ration that Lenet had laid out was gone.  Throughout the night we had heard rustling in the undergrowth around our camp, but whenever someone went to investigate, there was nothing.  We discussed where we should go next.  All of our options had seemingly run out.  Through breakfast we talked, sipping on honeyed tea that Kaemris produced from his magical cloak.

Then I remembered that Henwen from the chapel had a monkey-like creature sitting on her shoulder.  I check my sack to make certain.  They have to be the same creature.  She also had a staff that was enchanted with necromantic magic.  

After telling my companions my revelation we set off for the chapel.  We marched to the southwest hoping to meet the trail and follow that back to the chapel.  Artemus realized that he could become more than a simple squirrel and kept watch from above in the shape of a hawk.

It was not long after we started walking when the trees around us animated.  Before I could move two arrows struck Kaemris.  A large viper appeared at Van’s feet and sunk its teeth into his leg.  A hawk dived in at Lenet.  I saw a tiny man who looked like a tiny elf.  He had gossamer wings and wore brightly colored clothing with a funny hat and funny pointed shoes.  To the north, west, and east were wild elves.  

Kaemris said, “We did not come to fight you.  We seek the ones who have brought evil to this place.”  He cast a spell to alert him of evil, and finding none, visibly relaxed.  Artemus landed in the woods under a tree and changed back to his human form.  

Van was yelling to get the viper off of him and thrashing about.  Afraid that Van might do something rash Kaemris cast a spell called shield of faith on him for protection against the deadly snake.

A voice from the trees, high and musical, demanded that we put down our weapons.  I calculated the odds in this fight, and came to the conclusion that we might lose.  I was the first to drop my rapier and quiver.

“Are you doing the village’s bidding,” the voice asked.

Kaemris spoke for the group and said no.

“Did you destroy the ghost?”

This reply was longer in coming.  I translated as Kaemris described what had transpired with the paladin’s shade, and that we had given him a proper burial.

A short dialogue followed, with the elves asking questions and Kaemris answering them through me.  They wanted to know why we did not destroy the trees when we were attacked and why we first attacked then healed their friend.  Kaemris answered well; he is a born diplomat.  I felt a presence in my thoughts probing me to confirm the story we told.  Apparently I passed their test because the elves then told us their story.

They had been a peaceful tribe, living their lives in the Halleck forest, until one day the animals began to disappear.  Soon the elves were starving and they sent representatives to Ossington to bargain for food.  The humans were understanding and arranged a meeting to the west of town where the two groups could make their exchange.  Fifty elves were sent to meet the humans.  A day passed, then two, and the rest of the tribe became worried.  They sent out scouts to the location of the meet only to find that they had been slaughtered.  That’s when they began to ambush and kill the humans.  

When asked about the paladin, they had no answers.  They did not encounter him while he was alive, but they loved him as a ghost for he slaughtered the villagers whenever they met.

Kaemris asked them if they knew what had been tampering with the stones, to which they replied, “We have seen the human called Dyson with the stones, but we know not what they do.” And then we discovered the name of the evil creatures that had been shadowing us throughout the forest.  They are Hobyahs and the elves believe that Henwen uses them to spy for Dyson.

In the next few moments an alliance was forged to destroy Dyson and his followers.  

*27th of Ches, Year of Rogue Dragons*

We spent the early morning hours in meditation under the influence of special incense that Kaemris brought forth.  He promised us that our spells would be stronger for it.

As a group we headed for the Chapel hoping to kill Henwen first so she could not bring the Hobyahs into the fight or alert Dyson to the alliance.

Artemus took to the air in hawk form again to investigate Ossington.  Before we reached the Chapel he returned and told us that the village was empty.  Cautiously we approached the chapel but it was also empty.

Lenet passed me a potion of invisibility so that she and I could flank the village and surprise anyone who attacked us, but the plan changed radically when Kaemris charged into the stones surrounding Ossington and called out a challenge to Dyson.  Quickly I drank the potion and followed him in, meaning to protect him.  I cast a spell to enhance my next attack so that I could be sure to drop whomever I struck.  

From all around us villagers armed with clubs and pitchforks emerged from the houses.  Van took up a firing position behind one of the stones and knocked an arrow.  Lenet must have taken her potion too, for I could not see her.  Artmeus landed on a house nearby.

From the house in front of Kaemris emerged Henwen.  I let fly an acid arrow into her heart, ending my invisibility.  She staggered but did not fall.  Then the villagers attacked.  I was surrounded.   I drew my sword and sickle, and hoped to die a noble death protecting my leader. 

A strange sound carried over the shouting and clanging of weapons.  The Cuckoo was singing to inspire the villagers.  Tully appeared out of the crowd behind me, and a giant wolf appeared by magic in front of me.  I was sorely pressed to keep its jaws away from my throat but it did bite my leg, and judging from the fountain of blood it hit an artery.

From the top of the house I could see that Artemus had turned into his human form and was chanting loudly.  Out of the sky came a tremendous column of fire that roasted Henwen and several villagers.  The crazy woman would summon no more hobyahs ever again.

Stonegroan’s missiles fell into the fray dropping villagers but soon it was silenced as Van drew his sword to protect himself from the groups that had flanked him.  Kaemris said a prayer and lifted out of the mob’s reach, flying several feet over them.  My sword and sickle lashed out at the wolf in front of me, but it would not fall.  Lenet appeared behind Tully and took a swipe at her.  I could see the Cuckoo wading into the fray behind the wolf.  I was beginning to get dizzy from my mounting wounds.  I am no warrior.

It was then that Artemus’s second spell went off around me, its magical flames destroying the wolf, several villagers, and setting the Cuckoo on fire.  Only my superior reflexes saved me, as I dove out of harm's way.  Villagers rushed in to fill the gaps Artemus’s spell created and I was not quick enough to avoid a vicious hit with the club.  I fell to the ground, my life blood running rivers in the dry earth.

Although I was down, I could still see, and what I saw frightened me.  The Cuckoo was changing.  His head elongated, his back stiffened, and he grew in size.  Giant leathery wing sprouted from his back and he screamed in pain.  The Cuckoo was a Vrock.  I feared my friends would join me.

A body fell on me, and I guessed that Lenet had killed Tully.  Kaemris flew about trying to find a way for us to win, and I could hear Van cursing as he fought.  Either Kaemris or Artemus called upon an elemental to aid in the fight.  Its powerful form ripped into villagers killing many.  But the battle seemed to be going badly.  I was down, Van must have been taking hits, Lenet sounded pained.  Kaemris’s face was a mask of rage.  He stopped his flight before the Vrock, and held his staff high.

“Tymora send you back where you came from, demon.  Bother us no more,” he said in a loud, booming and confidant voice.  With a look of pure horror the Vrock erupted in a fountain of flame and was gone.  

With the Vrock’s song ended and its presence gone, the villagers took flight, those who remained.  Dyson must have been about though, because Kaemris’s flight ended prematurely and he fell to the ground.  The departure of the vrock enabled Artemus to come to my aid.  When my strength returned, I looked around and saw Lenet's torn body on the ground next to me.  There was nothing we could do for her; she was gone.

We ran to the tower in the center of town. The elemental broke the door with one powerful blow, and we rushed in looking for Dyson.  He was not here.  We ran up the stairs into his bedroom but could not see him.  Up another flight of stairs into a study we ran and found a trap door in the ceiling.  The elemental struck but the door would not move.  Kaemris created a dimensional door to the level above and threw Artemus and myself through it.  

We emerged through the door onto the roof of the tower.  Immediately a storm of magic missiles struck me in the chest, and I responded with my own.  We had found Dyson.  Artemus summoned a sphere of flame and it burned the wizard badly.  Kaemris, beyond reason, leaped forward and brought his staff down upon Dyson’s head.  Everything went black as Dyson created a globe of magical darkness around us.  I drew my rapier and struck, but it met only air.  Artemus’s flaming sphere burned the life out of Dyson, and with its caster dead the magical darkness disappeared.  I almost laughed when I saw Kaemris on the ground in the fetal position sobbing.  No matter how powerful the man might be, he needs to get over his fear of the dark…

I noticed that the wizard, his clothes burned to ash, had a small tail.

We left the roof only to find the Dyson's study below us in flames, probably started by the elemental.  Quickly we found Dyson’s journal and raced from the tower just as it collapsed, its supports burned away.  

Sitting around the campfire tonight, nursing our wounds, Kaemris read the journal to us.  Dyson and Henwen had discovered the secret of the stones.  Together, with the help of the Cuckoo, they had used the stone’s power to transform animals into human-like shapes.  Sometimes they replaced entire families at a time.  Then one day the Paladin showed up, and fearing discovery sent Tully to watch him.  When he figured out the evil plan, Tully ambushed and killed the noble warrior, removing the head so he could not be easily resurrected.  Fire claimed the rest of the journal so we can only guess at what he intended to do with his army of faux-humans.  

*5th of Tarsakh, Year of Rogue Dragons*

We came into Arabel around noon today.  All around the city men are working with the Purple Dragons to restore the town.  In a year or so maybe the capital can move back.

When we arrived at the Inn of the Fortunate Minotaur, Lord Ironcrest was waiting for us.  He congratulated us on a safe return, offered condolences for our unfortunate loss, and then took Kaemris aside for a debriefing.  We were given lodging and food.  I stowed my things and went looking for Kaemris.

On the journey back, I realized that if I was going to risk my life, I had better do it for something I believee in.  I had decided to go back to Mulhoround and aid the growing resistance there.  Kaemris was sorry to see me go, but did not try to stop me.  I know he understood what it means to serve a higher power.  I offered to find them a new scout, one who is better at sneaking about than I am.  Hopefully I can find one soon.

*7th of Tarsakh, Year of Rogue Dragons*

I have found the perfect replacement for myself.  His name is Darabrac Bramblefoot, and he is a halfling from Lurien.  Don’t call him a halfling though; he prefers the ancient title of his fair people, the Hin.  He will do well, I think. He is already meeting with Kaemris.  

The party is heading north, I believe, sometime soon.  They will be traveling to the Silvery Marches with a band of settlers.  I am glad I am not going; it sounds very cold there.  My wounds have healed and there is a merchant caravan leaving for Suzail.  I must hurry if I am to make it…

[Corrected to give Artemus credit for healing Aoth.]


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## Roman Gemmalee (Aug 8, 2002)

*Artemus Thornwind*

ooc: Great write-up Mike! I especially like how you treated me with kid gloves about the brain fart I had when I attacked the elf instead of using diplomacy. Your play-by-play of the final battle was gripping. One point I can't overlook though is that Artemus healed you in the final village battle. I remember because that became my goal and it took me forever to get to you. Meanwhile, we all thought that some villager was going to finish you off. I am not correcting it as much as reliving it and telling stories. Good job!


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## Tom Cashel (Aug 8, 2002)

Great job, Mike!  It's so bittersweet...


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## Broccli_Head (Aug 8, 2002)

Haven't read the post, yet , but just wanted to tell you that it stinks that you guys only play 1 time/month.


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## Van Dyksun (Aug 8, 2002)

*We're trying*

There's an idea here that we might get a 4-hour game in on the 17th, then our regular session on the 7th of September.


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## madriel (Aug 9, 2002)

I hope you guys can play on the 17th.  Aerundar was the most underappreciated story hour on the boards.  Only getting updated once a month kept the views down.  If you want to draw more readers, you might want to try breaking the updates into smaller pieces and posting more often.

You certainly deserve more readers.


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## Van Dyksun (Aug 9, 2002)

Thanks for the suggestion, Madriel!  That might work really well with the next adventure, too--looks like our group may be helping to guard a caravan from Cormyr to the Silver Marches.  (Tom's got new books!  )


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## Broccli_Head (Aug 9, 2002)

Sounds like a fun journey!


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## Tom Cashel (Aug 9, 2002)

I was eyeballing the maps yesterday...it'll be "fun" for the DM, that's for sure! 

Thanks for the suggestions...breaking up the posts might be just the way to go...


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## Mahiro Satsu (Aug 12, 2002)

*About my write-up*

Thanks for the praise!!  If anyone has some critiques about my style or what not then feel free to email me.  The address is in my profile.


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## Mahiro Satsu (Aug 12, 2002)

*madriel, Broccli_head and others*

Your suggestion for shorter postings has been duely noted.  We have been talking about reposting all the old story hours in one location, so that the four threads we use could be found in one place.  I have taken your suggestion to heart and the repostings have been shortened, etc...

Here's the link:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=20534 

Enjoy!!


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