# Softwind's Tale: Companions of the Valley  (upd 04/01/04) - REALLY!



## Softwind (Sep 27, 2003)

In June of 2002, a band of intrepid Players set forth to begin a journey of my devising. As with many storytellers, the original concept behind the story changed as the players add their own twist to the adventure. What follows is my view on events that transpired. My players may view things a little differently, being on the other side of the screen, but I believe I am recounting the gist of the story. I freely give them leave to correct, admonish, and outright correct me - I do on occasion tell something that I *thought* I said, rather than what they heard. If this is so, forgive me dear readers, but bear with me. In all things, I wish to entertain, to recount, and to let others experience, at least in some small part, the enjoyment and excitement I have with my players.

Having said that, let the story begin!!!

Edit: Still adding material as I find, create, or recreate it. Keep watching this thread!

New edit: Posting in a different fashion. Hope you like it.


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## Softwind (Sep 27, 2003)

*Adventure background, as told to the players.*

Setting: A high mountain valley, surrounded by sizable, forested hills, carpeted in rich grass and bushes. Mountains streams run through the center of this tranquil setting. The mountains hold a small fortune in stones and metals, both precious and functional.

Small bands of halflings, gnomes and dwarves have settled in a remote part of this land, far from when they originally lived. Few now remember why or exactly when the exodus occurred, and those that do seldom talk about it. Perhaps they fled something? Were they driven out, or running for their lives? Or perhaps just wished to raise their families in a new environment? 

You have only known this land as your home, and none other. Your kin make no mention of why they had come here, and refuse to even when pressed. They also speak rarely of the place they came from, far to the North. Older members of your generation, who have spoken of leaving this land and seeking out their roots or their fortunes elsewhere, usually end up being brought before the elders. When they return from the meetings, they speak no more of venturing forth, nor even of the meeting itself. Instead, they content themselves working the crafts of the people; mining, smithing, tinkering, woodcrafts, and the like.

The dwarves have claimed the under mountain as their own, calling it Stonedeep. The gnomes set up shop in the outer caves, and upon the surface; in each, they have access to the materials and supplies needed for their constant tinkering and craft building, and have named the place Stoneside. The halflings live amongst the gnomes, although some have set up their own village along the creekbanks at the base of the mountains and foothills. (Called Tumbledown Stoneside, an in-joke amongst the elders).

Visitors from outside the valley are exceedingly rare; you can think of only a few times in your life that you have seen an outsider. Most times, the stranger is greeted politely (if distantly) by the elders, and then whisked into their chambers. The strangers departed quickly after the meeting with the elders was concluded. They rarely stayed longer that their business took to conclude. And even those rare visits tapered off as raids from the surrounding goblinoid & orcish tribes increased. 

Lately, after many mostly peaceful years in the valley, the rate of attacks has increased. The creatures, mainly orcs, have been raiding more frequently, often carrying off not only gems and precious metals mined by the dwarves and gnomes, but also the citizens of the somewhat scattered villages and warrens. The old and the weak are left behind, if not killed outright. The able-bodied adults are always killed. Only the older children and young adults are taken, never seen again. The raids have been gaining in precision, occurring at random times and locations, and usually are in and out before the local militia can be gathered to repel the attack. Many a family has been bereft of members. And in the past few months, the raids have been coming much more frequently and viciously. Quite a few outlying defender posts have been nearly overrun lately.

And this is where the party comes in....

(Story will continue as I "polish" what I have, and post it.  I also want to allow my players to comment between posts if they want to.  Thank you for your patience, it will be rewarded.)


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## Softwind (Sep 28, 2003)

*First Session: (June 02)*

An effort has been made to determine why these raids are occurring, where the hordes are coming from, and how to head off or stop the flow. Towards this aim, the tri-cities council has issued Wanted posters for information about the various tribes, and also called for volunteers to man the outposts that ring the valley. Perhaps by relieving the soldiers in these outposts, they can help track down the reasons behind the mounting attacks.

Brynn Oakenshield (Dwarf Ranger) finds a young member of Stonedeep, obviously deep within his cups, plastering the posters upon anything and everything, miles from the town. Being a Ranger, he is rather put out by the lad as he gathers posters from rocks, trees, even the occasional deer.

Genoa Redstone (Dwarf Druid) is likewise taken aback by the forest “graffiti” and accompanies Brynn to town, to, at the very least, complain about the litter.

Tombit Pithopper (Halfling Rogue), looking for free food, spies the posters upon the bulletin boards within the Tumbledown Stoneside town square, and thinks that it would be a lark.

Athena Teabottle (Gnome Cleric), somehow dissatisfied with life at the Garl Glittergold cloister, seeks a little excitement, and replies to the posters.

Taylan Nybright (Halfling Rogue/Sorcerer), always one to experiment and explore, eagerly heads to the Guardhouse to seek out ways in which to assist.

Ellywick Nackle (Gnome Druid) has her own reasons to follow up on the request for help. Perhaps it is the effect upon the forest that the orcs and goblins have…

So, for their own reasons, these individuals head to the offices of Captain Ensu Tamble, Leader of Tritown’s Guardmen, to seek fame, fortune, right wrongs, or scarf free pie. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++

A grim-faced gnome, clad in banded armor and wearing a frown unlike the normal countenance found on his kin sits behind a heavy oak desk in the small office of the Guards Hall. The room is cramped with other townsfolk who, like the party, have come at the beck of the reward posters. Or perhaps out of curiosity. The murmur of voices continues awhile, before the guard standing beside Captain Ensu Tamble raps his halbard against the floor, calling the gathering to order. The armored gnome stands up, and addresses the crowd. “Most of you here have heard of the escalating predatations of the goblinoids on our farther borders, and have come share what information you have, or to volunteer help. For the former, the guard clerk will take your statements, and we thank you in advance“. At this, several people leave to head towards the clerk’s office. To the remainder, he continues, “For the later, we give you thanks now, and promise of reward should you be successful in what we ask.”

He picks up a sheaf of papers, and raps them upon his desk, then waves them at the crowd. “Here we have reports form various guard posts at the outer edges of our domain. They detail increasing attacks by goblins and worgs, the beasts they ride. What is worse, they apparently have joined forces with the wandering bands of orcs that share this valley. While we hold no love for the orcs, they have not before bothered us in great numbers. What we need now are people to help man the outposts, and also to find out the root cause of these raids. If this continues, our towns may soon be under attack!”

At this, Captain Ensu asks for volunteers for each task. 

+++++++++++++++
The individuals come together as a party for the first time, as they all volunteer to assist in any method considered suitable. It is notable that not a one of them is very well known within the town as a “hero”. And this is how such tales usually begin…
+++++++++++++++

Guard Captain Ensu’s face lights up as the party indicates their desire to defend the outlying outposts from the marauders. “Excellent, my young friends. Speak to my Lieutenant in the office outside. She will tell you what we require of you, and arrange for transport to the outposts we need help with, if any is required. She will also direct you to our armory for equipping.” He clasps some of them on the shoulder. “Thank you.” He says simply, and then turns to another group of young people to talk to them.

The party exits the office in search of the Lieutenant. She is quickly found with the assistance of several guards in the hallway.

++++++++++++++++

The Lieutenant, Annikko Tamble, is a kindly gnome with a stern look about her, who eyes the party carefully. She takes down their names, and issues equipment as required, before describing the needs of the outpost, Rivenwall. The current defenders are seeking watchers to be on the lookout for signs of orcs or goblins as well as people who can fight off the attacks, whether by blade, bow, or magic. She confirms that all members of the party do desire this task. Gaining confirmation, she takes a map of the valley, and points out where the outpost lies. She informs them they will be outfitted with transport and supplies to take to the various stations along the route to Rivenwall; their first role to be guards for the caravan.

Upon being asked if the party is in need of any supplies themselves, and getting a resounding Yes, she directs the party to the Guard quartermaster. She admonishes the party that they should take only what they need, as supplies are becoming scarce. Most of the party takes on bedding, camping gear, perhaps a secondary weapon. They are also equipped with a large supply of low powered healing potions. The halfling rogue Tombit is unique in his request for a ball of wax…

The next morning, the newly created caravan guards head to their first assignment, guarding a train of 9 wagons, pulled by mules, lead by a dwarf, Berend, with almost the same amount of personality. He quickly warms up to the party, as he determines they are not quite as green as they make themselves out to be. This impression is underscored at the quick action on the party’s part to defend the caravan from occasional attacks by small groups of goblins.

At each stop along the way, supplies are handed out to guardsmen at the outposts. Fresh weapons are exchanged for battered, broken ones, and new stocks of food replace the depleted larders of the battle-weary folk. The mood in the caravan grows grimmer the further along the trail they move.

(continued shortly)


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## Softwind (Sep 28, 2003)

*Second session: (June 02)*

When at last the party of new adventurers reaches the outpost of Rivenwall, they find it under siege already, by a band of orcs. The stone walls surrounding the small tower and outbuildings are chipped and fire scarred from previous forays. The east wall where the largest invading force entered is mostly rubble. The gates to the south are likewise damaged, the wall on the southeast side no longer holding up the gate at the side. The stable is no more than a smoldering pile of ash, timbers, hay and assorted other burnables. The barracks still retain a roof, though the walls are charred and chipped (wood and stone, respectively). The mess hall was destroyed, torn down for use as a barricade at some point in the fight. Nothing remains but piles of rubble, the odd iron cooking implement, and the oven chimney. The tower, with its attached office, still stands firm, although scorched. The only building seemingly untouched is the stone storage shed to the northwest. The attackers had not gotten that far in. 

Devising a plan to sneak into the fort and take by surprise the invaders, the band runs through the fields leading to the outpost, and clambers up its walls, to drop down on the other side and reclaim the keep. The battle waged showed the mettle of the new recruits, as, with the help of the fort defenders, they decimated the band of orcs in a matter of moments.

The newly forged heroes are greeted warmly as they arrange for the caravan leader to bring in the remaining wagons bearing supplies for the beleaguered forces of Rivenwall. Berend unloads the wagons with the help of the party, and bunks down in the courtyard as night falls upon the Keep. The party, still excited from the battle, chooses to stay awake in shifts as the rest of the defenders get some much-needed rest. 

They are informed that seven defenders have gone missing over the course of the past several days. They were sent out as scouts, and never returned. The dwarven sergeant of the outpost, Grimnyr, recently made lieutenant by the death of the previous commander, keeps them company. Come morning, the group focuses on repair to the outpost, clearing rubble, rebuilding damages walls, removing corpses of the enemy to be burned later, and lying to rest the bodies of the fallen defenders. Guards are posted while people work to avoid being surprised by the orcs and goblins. The work is hard, but honest, and there is a sense of satisfaction at a job well done when the night comes once more. 

The next morning, they are asked to scout the area to see if more orcs or goblins lurk nearby, as Berend and his remaining guards head back to the Tritowns to again gather supplies and disperse them. With him are some of the more injured defenders, and he leaves behind some caravan guards as replacement. The caravan has not been gone more than a few hours when the next band of orcs arrives, with goblins at their sides. Alarm is rung as the defenders rush to man the walls and repel the attacks. 

Much to their dismay, they see the massed group bringing to bear two ballistae as well! The recently repaired walls suffer from the bolts as the goblin winchmen repeatedly fire upon it. The party soon puts an end to the threat, first by clearing the area around the weapons with archery, then setting the equipment on fire, with alchemy, spell, and flaming arrow. However, the damage is done – the walls, previously weakened, crumble as the massed goblins charge the wall and fling up grapples and ropes. The quick-thinking druids of the party call upon the grasses and weeds below to halt the progress of the enemy, and feel them respond. Cries of anger and jeers aimed at the defenders turn to dismay and horror as the goblins and their orkin counterparts find themselves easy targets to the arrows, sling bullets, and spears of the defenders on the wall.

The party slaughters the entangled creatures with no mercy, having seen that the orcs and goblins had shown none to their victims before. Within minutes, the last goblin falls beneath the blows of the Rivenwall watchers. Exhausted, the party slumps down to bind wounds, and count the dead. 

Realizing their position, the guardsmen request the party return to scouting the area, in hopes of finding where these bands were coming from, and perhaps stemming them before they were over run. The party agrees to explore the surrounding woods, for signs or clues to this ever-increasing danger. They discover several camps, some recently abandoned, others cold a week, where signs of large groups are evident. One particular camp was gruesome, and showed them just what kind of beasts they were dealing with.

Several forays were made, some as a group, some as individuals. (Ask Tombit someday about his daring rescue of prisoners at an orc camp. But be prepared for a long tale, with plenty of “And then”s)

The last scouting trip they make is to be the most informative, and scary.

From ahead on the trail, the smell of carrion, charred flesh and wood permeates the air. Following a well-worn trail, they soon come to a clearing, whence the odors emanate. Ash and charcoal crunch beneath their feet as they emerge from the trees. Within this widening of the trail, they see the remnants of a large camp, plus the remains of various animals and other once-living beings. From what they can tell by examining the corpses, they neither died well, nor comfortably.

(continues)


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## Softwind (Sep 30, 2003)

*Third Session (July 02)*

The hurriedly hacked, and well-trampled, path runs from this recent campsite through the woods a great distance. As they follow it, the party is shocked to realize that it heads to one of the guard posts hidden along the main paths from town. The ruined site of the outpost confirms their suspicions at the trails end. No smoke is evident, although the smell of it still lingers. It seems as though the attack came several days ago. Very little remains of the outpost – the stones themselves had even cracked in the heat of the fires that raged there. Badly burned bodies were strewn everywhere, defender and attacker alike clutched in death agonies.

From here, the party sees paths crisscrossing through the woods, with the heavier-used ones pointing towards the mountains in the distance. As one, they decide to continue further into the woods, to determine the size of the threat to their beloved homes. The trail broadens as it gets closer to the mountains with many side trails branching off, giving indication that the horde came from over (or within) the hills themselves. Emerging from the tree line, the party finds themselves on a rocky ridge, overlooking the forest below. Traces of the hordes become harder to find as the ground hardens, and refuses to give up its secrets to the ranger in the party.

Night falls, causing the party to hole up for sleep. They decide that the ridge was a good place to guard for enemies, as they would be able to see them coming a fair distance over the skree and rock. In the middle of the night, the expected attack does come, silently and stealthily. Two large spiders attack, causing mayhem and panic to the sleep-numbed party members. Once they awake, however, the abominations do not stand a chance. With one last thrust of his sword, Brynn kills the second spider, and sits to clean off the ichors and sticky webbing coating his blades. The halfling rogue, curious, examined the bodies, and discovered items carried within webbing upon their abdomens. Albeit curious at this behavior, the party chalks it up to good luck, and laid claim to the goods as well-earned booty. They head back to sleep before setting out again the next morning.

With the sun rising, so do the adventurers. They determine that following the rapidly disappearing trail was fruitless, so head once more into the covering of the trees, to the appreciation of the druids and ranger in the party. They sense that they are being followed some time after entering the confines of the forest, and their suspicions are confirmed when a human, rarely seen in the valley, steps from behind a tree and confronts them.

His name, he states, is Hall. He, like some members of the party, follows the way of the druid. However, unlike the other druids there, he feels the need for a cleansing, a rebalancing to the forest. The dwarves, halflings, and gnomes have too long been “master” of the woods. It was his duty, Hall feels, to address the imbalance, and bring back those that had once wandered amongst the trees in the valley. Unfortunately for the party, that meant the orcs and goblins! 

Standing near Hall is the largest bear any of them had seen. And perched upon his arm, a large bird of prey. Steeling themselves for a battle, Hall dissuades them from attack, stating they are of no concern to him. He does not actively attack either side, he merely steers them to the “inevitable”. With that, he fades into the forest. Neither the ranger nor the druids can track where he went.

With this new wrinkle being mulled about, the party continues to work their way back to the outpost, to report on what they had seen and encountered. The alert amongst them sensed something new before they had gone too far. Topping a rise, looking down upon a small valley in the forest, the sight before them is almost literally having the power to take their breath away – if not by the size of the host before them, than by the rising stench of their massed bodies, and the ruin of their camp. Dozens of felled trees must have lent themselves to the number of campfires thy see below. The rude tents and lean tos that house the orcs and goblins cover all empty ground they could see. Giant wolves with malevolence in their eyes (worg) are chained next to many of the tents. Judging by the activity shown, the encampment is readying itself to march onward. And the direction they face appears to be along the line of outposts leading back to the tri-cities! 

Knowing they could not take on such a force themselves, they quickly rush back to Rivenwall, to inform the remaining defenders of the certain attack. Within hours, having made as many preparations as they could, the party and remaining guards spot movement within the trees. A portion of the horde has arrived! This time, there were no longer just orcs and goblins, but worgs and a few ogres as well! Though they resolve not to, many of the adventurers shake within their boots. That shaking turns to anger, however, as they spied several ballistae being pulled from the forest, by townsfolk! The bastards, using the parties’ kin as a living shield for the weapons of war! Tossing aside fear, the adventurers settle themselves in for a long fight, vowing that this wrong would be corrected!

The massed goblins and orcs pause a fair distance from the outpost, at long range of most missle weapons. An orc and a goblin step forward, somehow appearing to be leaders of the rabble. They require that the defenders lay down their arms and surrender. Hesitations or resistance would be met with greater force than the last attack. 

Upon hearing the party’s response, (How does one correctly spell a raspberry?) battle is joined, the hordes not having learned enough from previous encounters to foil the same tactics used by the party previously. The druids again called upon the grass of the fields to entwine the feet of the enemy, while the ranger and cleric rained down upon the masses arrows and bullet stones. Tombit sneaks out into the midst of the battle to free the prisoners chained or tied to the siege weapons. Making it back to the fort deserves its own story…

The ogres, however, are another matter. They seem least affected by the entanglements, and shrug off damage dealt to them by arrow or stone. It is only when fought toe-to-toe that they succumb to the onslaught of the adventurer’s wroth. 

(continues soon)


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## Softwind (Oct 3, 2003)

*Fourth session (Jul 02)*

The remaining, non-entrapped orcs and goblins enter the keep, using the breech made by the ogres; although taking advantage of it avails them little. Several rounds of fierce battle later, the party stands amongst the dead, looking about for another enemy to slay, dreading that there should be one more. Their muscles fatigued, their wounds painful, they move slowly, taking stock of the damage. Sadly, some of the defenders have not made it through the battle. Fewer than 7 of the 13 original guardsmen still stood; the sorcerers having fallen to arrows fired by the orcs, and the last remaining rogue (scout) still carries the wounds that had also laid his less-healthy compatriots low unto death.

The remnant of the attacking force flees into the forest, and the party decides to give chase. They encounter a lone elf woman, Skylar, fighting off a band of orcs, surrounded by the dead. Giving aid, they watch as she kills the remnants of the orcs, and tend to the elf’s wounds while hearing her story. A merchant guard, she was fresh from leaving her own people and exploring the area some distance from her home. She had heard a merchant speak of a new town to trade in, and signed on as escort. Now she, of the entire caravan, was left. The party invites her to join them in returning to the tri-cities. Perhaps she too can add to the information the elders sought.

Along the trail, they are confronted by a strange figure, a lingering odor of brimstone about him. He gives his name as Bahnrak, and asked the party for theirs. Most of the party name themselves; a few decided that glaring at this figure was answer enough. Bahnrak tells the party that he has an agenda, but unlike Hall, serves a higher purpose than “balance”. He answers to “the Master”, but gives no details. He questions the party as to whom they are, why they in this hopeless fight, and what do they hope to gain? He answers few questions posed to him. He states that an even larger force is on its way to Rivenwall and the outlying outposts as well. All the while, he is eyeing Tombit closely, taken with him in some sinister way. Having said his fill, he takes his leave, and disappears into the woods. The party decides not to follow, and returns to Rivenwall.

 The decision is made by Lieutenant Grimnyr to abandon the outpost, and return to the town, gathering the remaining forces unto them as they follow the roads back to tri-towns. Taking what they could of supplies, they burn the rest, denying it to the creatures that will surely follow. The dwarven defenders also rig the keep walls to collapse in on themselves, denying the horde shelter.

Having made the journey a few days before on wagons, the party knows the way back will be longer and fraught with more danger. Signs of depredation are everywhere, with trees felled and burnt, corpses abounding, and an air of danger lingering. The party stops at a gnomish outpost, and at first glance, believes it to have been overrun, with scorched and torn up earth everywhere. But the gnomish defenders unbutton their hidey hole, and emerge in front of the party, exclaiming relief at their arrival. Relief turned to despair as they hear of the mass of enemies behind them. They too decide to abandon their post, to join with the party in returning to town, where their strength would be put to better use.

The gnomes lead the party to clearing miles from their outpost, and cast illusions, concealing it from outside eyes. Tombit, being ever the curious one, wanders the area, looking for enemies or other interesting folk. Some confusion results when he tries to find his way back to the encampment. Only after throwing rocks in the general vicinity, and calling for help, does one of the gnomes fetch him back to the camp. The party beds down exhausted by the travel and days of combat.

 Tombit awakens a while later, pricked by something sharp. Bahnrak, the strange figure they had met before, holds two kamas, their blades gleaming in the dying embers of the fire, against the rogue/monk. Glancing surreptitiously around, Tombit sees his companions and the gnomes all fast asleep, a strange smell in the air which emanates from the fire pit. The tiefling motions to Tombit to get up and leave the camp, but the halfling instead calls for help. Awoken from the effects of whatever knocked them out, the party gives chase to the tiefling, who surprises them all with his quick movements. Not to be outdone, Tombit puts his heart into the chase. The party corners the tiefling up in a tree, after encountering “gifts” left behind in his wake – caltrops. Luckily, the caltrops injured few of the party. Brynn and Athena shout up questions to Bahnrak as to the reasons of his actions. They receive no answer, and proceed to try to capture him, only to be disappointed as the strange man disappears into thin air. 

They return to their sleep, troubled, but weary. The next morning comes early, and the party quickly marches onward towards town. In the distance, they see evidence of the escalating violence being done to the forest. The smell of smoke fills the air, frightening or even sometimes maddening the forest dwellers. At one point, the party finds themselves face-to-tusk with a herd of wild boars. Knowing they are seeking to flee the smoke, noise, and the orcs, the party’s ranger soothes the animals and earns a way past the frightened animals. The dwarven druid Genoa uses this opportunity to call unto herself an animal companion. A small wolf heeds her request and joins the group.

 In the distance, they hear trees being felled and fires roaring. And then, the angry shouts of someone, speaking in Druidic! Genoa quickly informs the party that whoever it is, he is furious at the destruction being crafted by the hordes. The party draws nearer, and discovers that Hall is the one screaming at the massed monsters, which pay him no heed, even when he calls nature down upon them. The adventurers decide that prudence is best called for, and hurry on their way towards town.

 They pass the ruins of the Halfling town by the river, Tumbledown Stoneside. Knowing the proclivity of the little folks to uproot the town and move it to some other, more attractive vantage, the party is not too upset. It can be rebuilt. Tombit takes this opportunity to seek out his family, promising to meet up with the party later. He finds that they, and many other townsfolk, have retreated to the gnomish town of Stoneside. His sister Bombit is located, but she is only able to say that she escaped while visiting friends, and is still looking for the family. Torn between family ties and duty to the Elders, Tombit gives her some pretty stones (gems) found on his adventure, and seeks out the party once more. This was to be the last time he saw any of his family.

 He rejoins the party at the Elder hall in Stoneside, where he learns of the efforts of his friends to locate their loved ones and friends. Glum, they await the elders, reflecting on the turn of events that was hinted at just a fortnight before.

 (continues)


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## Softwind (Oct 6, 2003)

*Fifth Session (Aug 02)*

A gnome servant, Jaroo, attends to the needs of the party while they wait. He is occasionally summoned into the chambers of the elders, and at times raised voices can be heard within. It is awhile before the elders are ready to talk to the party – other groups move through the room, and out again later.

When summoned, the party is met with a somber bunch. They are invited to sit in the chairs provided, facing the elder council in this rather vast chamber of stone. Guards line the walls, keeping a watchful eye upon all within. Runners (children) run in and out of the chamber, bringing messages to the various elders seated around the room.

 Captain Ensu of the Guard asks the party for the information they have gathered. His grim countenance runs the gambit of the grim emotions as they do so. He turns to the elders and gets into a deep discussion, apparently arguing. He turns back to the party and asks that they return at a later time. He will arrange for funds to be disbursed for goblin and orc ears – 1gp each pair.

In the town, party members meet a slightly deranged gnome (Peletti), apparently head-injured in a previous battle. He tends to babble some non-sense, but occasionally makes sense.

 “The orcs are falling from the sky!” 
 “The Elders cover us with their protections!” 
 “Vengance is being visited upon us by the Old Ones” 
 “Cityfolk have disappeared mysteriously for months – swallowed by the night!” 
 “The mines of old are haunted” 
 “We are being sacrificed to some unholy power” 
 “The Walls have ears, and hear you. Mouths, to speak to you. But no eyes – those were stolen by potatoes!” 

Peletti doesn’t become very lucid, and eventually runs off, eyes wide in fear. He quickly loses the party members in the streets, crowded with people.

Early the next morning, the Elders call the party back into their chambers to discuss matters – very few elders beyond those who mentored some of the party are there, with a handful of guards and no runners in evidence. The Elders spend many minutes talking amongst themselves while the adventurers wait. Then a wizened dwarf speaks, “I am Quanzar, last of the Naruun clan, wizard of the Tri-cities. I have lived more centuries than I can recall, and in all that time, have faced little that I truly feared. I fear now. Not the hordes that besiege us, for their like I have seen before. And not the loss of a home, for I have lived many places. No, what I fear is the power behind these attacks. But that is not your concern - You have been told little of why we three races came to this land before your birth. And, unfortunately, now is not the time for that to be revealed. This I may tell you though – we fled from a power that grew in the North, and came to this valley for refuge. Our mightiest magics were woven across this land to conceal and to hide us away from that power, for we could not stand against it. We had hoped that, given time, we would be forgotten here. It appears that we were mistaken. Our hope now is to withstand the growing numbers of the orckin, goblins, and their kin.” Quanzar answers some questions, but the elder council dismisses the party shortly thereafter.

 The group has begun to learn to fight well together and no wanting to split up yet, goes to the Guard Captain’s office to see what they could do to help. He assigns them to one of the outer walls to help defend Stoneside. But first, the group seeks out sleep in a nearby inn. They are awoken early by alarm bells ringing out. A vast army had been sighted coming up the path to Tumbledown-Stoneside. A steady stream of halflings are rushing to the gates of Stoneside, most of them the old and the very young. All able-bodied townsfolk are called to defend the walls. The wait seems to last forever, but when the attack comes, it is swift and catches them all by surprise. No sooner have they pushed back the orc and goblin forces at the wall when the doors to the mines within the mountain spring open, and kobolds stream out, into the city itself! 

 Jumping from their posts, the party attacks the new enemy within the walls. Being overwhelmed, the small lizard-creatures flee back into the gnomish mines, carrying with them some townsfolk who got too close to their claws.

(continues)


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## Softwind (Oct 11, 2003)

*Session six (Sept 02)*

The party is directed to follow the kobolds into the mines by a dwarf wall defender. “They got this far undetected. We can’t afford to have one horde at our front door while another guts us from behind!” They are given little time to get ready – the more they delay, the farther in the kobolds will get. 

A trap laid for them by the kobolds show how badly underestimated (or even unsuspected) this band was. Dusting themselves off after the roof collapses, they find that the way out has been sealed, and that they have become separated from the halfling sorcerer Taylan and gnomish druid Ellywick, but they determine that they must go deeper within the once abandoned mine. Not that they would think of doing otherwise. Their travels through the mines shows how active the mine used to be, and that for some reason, it was abandoned abruptly. Carts filled with ore, tools abandoned, rooms full of smelted bars of copper, iron, tin and lead. There are challenges on the first level of the mines, but not as much resistance to their advances as they anticipated, and definitely not the numbers of combatants.

A way is found that leads deeper into the mountain, deeper into the mines. Some of the party find it the hard way, as the earth beneath their feet falls away, but the rest of the party make it safely down below. Here, they find more evidence of the kobolds. They also find what may have driven the gnomes out of this mine. As they walked down a particular passage, they hear the sounds of “leathern wings”. Waiting, they spy what appear to be deformed bats coming their way. The “bats” dive amongst the party, plunging their long snouts into exposed flesh, draining blood and vitality from the party. Fighting for their lives, the party dispatches the creatures in a furious battle. They retreat from the area to tend to their wounds, and enter a cavern covered in webs. Seeing no current occupants, they take their rest there. 

They explore the area, discovering how sticky the webbing can be, as the occupants, previously away, return for a meal. With alacrity, the 8 legged menaces are dispatched, although some of the party find themselves in a bind, literally. Combining their efforts, they free themselves from the webbing and fight their way further into the tunnels, attempting to avoid the bat like creatures (stirges). 

They enter a larger cavern, seemingly the site of a tragedy. Several gnomish skeletons lay scattered about in this place, some showing signs of what killed them, others in a posture of mining, pick still in hand. It is only when the cleric senses something wrong do the party members begin to worry. Turning back, they see some of the skeletons arising, and feel the effects of the bad air upon them. Near to choking, they fight their way free of the mobile corpses and asphyxiating air to continue their travels away from the undead and stirges.

Their efforts avail them little as they stumble into another nest of the foul creatures. Further drained by the encounter, the hole themselves up in what they hope is a secured area. As luck would have it, the cleric is able to locate scrolls of restoration, and thus return vitality to some of the party. Unfortunately, there is not enough to go around to help all the party. 

Feeling secure enough, they rest a day and press onward, into the mines. Due to the acoustics of the mine, they hear the yipping of the kobolds long before they turn the corner and encounter them. Needless to say, the party is not the ones to be taken by surprise. Still wounded, they nonetheless manage to slay the reptilian folk, and rescue the prisoner, a gnomish butcher by the name of Froop. Rather shaken by the capture, he clings to the members of the party, afraid to be left behind.

Knowing they need to press on if they are to rescue the other townsfolk, the party is attended by the cleric, Athena, and the remaining druid, Genoa, who ply their healing arts to mend wounds and recover strength. As they travel, they find another prisoner, Fronkin, a gnomish tailor also taken at the same time as Froop. He is held captive by another band of kobolds which falls to the combined might of the intrepid adventurers. The kobolds carried non-lethal weapons, perhaps for the capture and control of prisoners. While talking to the much-frightened Fronkin, they discover a kobold leader had escaped in the fray, and may be well on his way to alerting the other forces within the mine!

Hearing this, the party hurries back to a secret door discovered earlier in their travels. Peeking out of the door, Tombit is laid low by a large club to the head. The rest of the party rush to their compatriot’s aid as several ogres, now revealed, gather around the recumbent halfling.

The ensuing battle shows how well the party functions together as they take on not only ogres but their hobgoblin companions as well. The resulting loot from the corpses would make any of them well-to-do, had they a place to spend it… Unfortuately, during the battle, the two rescued gnomes disappear. Attempting to track them, they appeared to have been taken by someone or thing that walked the walls like a spider…

Finding themselves near the entrance to the mines once more, they seek an exit, only to find that ogres have taken over the culdesac the entrance has become. Knowing they cannot take on the combined might of a dozen ogres, the party seeks another way out, all the while searching for the missing townsfolk. Having no other options, the group again heads further into the depths of the mines, their moods grim, the situation grimmer.

(continues)


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## Softwind (Oct 12, 2003)

*Seventh Session (Sept 02)*

Chasing after the band of kobolds, the party finds themselves trapped behind a thick iron portcullis. The escaped leader of the kobolds seeks to incapacitate them within their prison, but ends up losing his familiar to them (a stirge, no less). Bands of kobolds harry the party, but can do little to damage them as the chamber they find themselves in contains many places of cover – an oversight on the part of the kobolds. Seeking to rectify this oversight, the frustrated kobolds call in several ogres. In the attempt to escape, Tombit is knocked unconscious, near to death, before Genoa calls upon a woodwose to do her bidding and bring the rogue monk to them for healing.

Managing to defeat those that would keep them entrapped, and escaping from the cage, the party follows the trail of the kobold leader, and faces down his forces hiding behind earthen walls and wooden barriers. 

Behind the barrier rest Ogres, Kobolds, and Orcs, as well as the kobold leader, Rawlr. The Ogres were caught sleeping, the Orcs gambling, and the Kobolds working on traps. Occasionally, one would check the passageway, but none of them wanted to face the ones that defeated several groups of their forces. Unfortuately for them, the party was quiet, stealthy, and all too willing to fight...
The kobold leader, noticing finally that they were under attack, shouted “Get them, kill them, capture them, smash them, snare them. Master needs such as these,” in Kobold, orc, and ogre.

Feats of bravery (or stupidity) seem to save the day, as the band of adventurers defeats the forces, leaving just the kobold leader alive. Being of mostly good alignment, they discard the idea of torture outright, but knowing that the kobold wouldn’t know the constraints, proceed to intimidate him into talking.

The party discovers that a mysterious figure named simply “The Master” has been gathering a large army of orcs, kobolds, goblins and their kin, for what ultimate purpose the kobold knows not. Just that they have been required to capture large numbers of slaves for use by the Master. The kobold gives directions that the slave-snatchers went, and the party leaves him chained up in a cage, stripped of gear, certain he will bother no one any more.

Following the directions, the group descends further into the mountain, and encounters another barrier across the passageway, this one of better construction. Fashioned of hewn lumber, two huge doors extended almost from one side of the passage to another, with stacks of boxes making up the lack of girth on one side. Tombit and Athena decide to open up the side by pushes over the crates, while the rest of the party engages in a head-on rush to the gates.

Apparently manned by ogres with huge crossbows, the party takes a fair share of damage before reaching the wall. They regroup, peering through the arrow slits carved into the heavy wood. Skylar pierces many of the defenders with well places arrows, and Brynn follows up closely behind with his own archery prowess. Enough damage is done that the party is able to begin to push aside the gates. Meanwhile, the halfling and gnome are having an extremely difficult time displacing a crate near the top of the wall. When it finally does drop, they discover to their disgust that the crate had been filled with ore, and that the rest of the party had already made it to the other side of the barrier.

Dropping down from their perch atop the remaining crates, they join the party in moving into the cavern beyond the wall. Stiff resistance in the form of more ogres bars their way, but not for very long. Behind the barrier, the passageway opens out into a large cavern. The redolent stink of massed bodies permeates the area. Offal piles line the walls, with bedding of various sorts scattered about as well as corpses in various states of decay. A central area contains boxes, creature remains, firepits, and bags.

The party rests, while waiting for more opponents. Apparently the acoustics in the area muffled the battles, as they remain undisturbed while they heal and regroup. Once done, they continue on, feeling the pressure of time weighing against them.

The corridor they follow opens up into a huge chamber, easily hundreds of feet across. While exploring, the party comes under attack by ogres and goblins using several wagons for cover. This tactic fails against the highly mobile party, and by the end of the battle, the wagons are burning, the attackers are dead, and the party is barely breathing hard. Continuing the exploration, they encounter a band of gnolls housed in an offshooting chamber. Brynn approaches them cautiously; curious as to why these creatures are not attacking them on sight. He discovers, through their broken Common, that they have no interest in the party. They seek only to follow the other monsters and gather what gain they may, they are not in any other way associated with the assault upon the Valley above.

Assured, the group heads southward, the only direction left to them in this huge chamber. Nearing a narrowing of the chamber, they see a sight that chills them to the bone. Dozens of townsfolk, marching in lockstep towards another cavern, pay no attention to the chaos about them. Running to their rescue, the party is confronted by a wall of flame that surrounds the townsfolk. Undaunted, the party leaps through the flame, to find it illusion, but packing a frightening “punch”. Some of the less brave of the party find themselves running away, while others hold their ground. Tombit tries to slow some of the townsfolk, turn them away from the passage to the south, only to be rebuffed. Before he can regain his senses, the train of people has already disappeared into the southern chamber. Seeking to follow them, the party hears a voice stopping them, booming “Go no further! Your time has not yet come. All in due time.”


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## Softwind (Oct 20, 2003)

*Eighth Session (Oct 02)*

Not ones to remain daunted, they heed not the voice, and rush after their captured kinfolk. Across the next chamber, over the water and on the far wall, they see a shimmering gateway, where the last of their fellow kinsmen are disappearing. Cursing whatever it is that has done this; they make their way to the island holding the gate. They seem to know they have little time before it closes, so they leap through.

The transition is not easy or quick, as they expected it to be. It is rough, disorienting, and harsh. Time seems to stretch, and compress. And when it finally ends, they find themselves not within another set of caverns, but standing upon a hill, a warm breezing ruffling their hair, the smell of things grown beneath a sun, and not inside a damp dank cavern, filling their noses.

Very disoriented, they follow the road that cuts across the hill, seeking some answers, some clue to what happened… someone at least. They discover the road they follow seems to lead into a forest, and is less traveled the further they go, until it becomes little more than a game trail. Turning around, they cross over the hill again, and this time encounter life more complicated than the forest creatures. A human farmer, pulling a barrow of produce, greets them coldly as they ask about the area. He warms up some as he determines that this mismatched bunch of dirt, moss, and blood stained folk mean him no harm. The farmer tells the party where they are, which means little to a people who didn’t really know where their valley was in relation to the rest of the world. What takes them aback though is how long they have been gone. For, somehow, between entering the gnome mines, and appearing upon that hilltop, two whole years had gone by. Not only did the gate not drop them where they expected, it had also not dropped them when they expected.

Thanking the farmer, they continue down the road, hoping to find some trace of civilization. Before the sun has set, they find themselves on the outskirts of a border town named Merikest. They make their way to an inn named The Prancing Pony, and entered. A number of people are there drinking, not necessarily a bad reason not to greet the party as they entered town. The occupants are mostly humans with an occasional rare dwarf, gnome, halfling, and elf thrown in. They appear to have just come to the pub on break from their daily chores. 

The pestering and questioning of the drinkers leads the bartender to direct them to a sage in town, by the name of Humphrey. Perhaps he could answer their questions, the bartender suggested, and let the townsfolk drink in peace. Dragging the dwarves away from the bar after only their fourth cup, the rest of the party headed down the street, seeking out this old wizard. The wizard’s apprentice or helper meets them at the door. He is a thin adolescent, seemingly named only “Lad”, or at least that is all the party ever heard Humphrey call him. He bids the party wait, points them to a wet bar conveniently nearby, and goes to inform his master of the arrival of guests. Perhaps it was the presence of dwarves near his bar, but the old human wizard seems to arrive very quickly. Bringing the party into his parlor where he bids them sit, he waits somewhat impatiently to hear what has brought the party to him.

Humphrey soon requests that someone other than the Halfling tell the tale, and Brynn complies. The ranger describes their home valley, the troubles encountered therein, and the events leading to the party being on Humphrey’s doorstep. They also ask if Humphrey has the ability to determine the nature of the magical items they have picked up along the way. When they look around, the party discovers that many hours have passed, and that sleep calls to them. They take their leave from Humphrey after the wizened sage agrees to Identify the items left with him, for an undisclosed fee.

The party retreats to the Prancing Pony and requests rooms to rest in. The next morning arrives quickly, and the party decides that some shopping is in order. They split up to explore the town, visiting the blacksmith, jeweler/money trader, temple, tanner, and other businesses in this sleepy town. Their wanderings eventually lead back to the inn, where they discuss the day’s events. Being told that the identification may take some time, they decide not to return to Humphrey’s just yet. Looking for something more to occupy their time, they ask around in town for work that they could put their hands to. They are directed to the Town Hall and Sheriff’s office. Representatives of the group ask to speak with Gerrard Ishkar, the town elder and First Speaker. They meet with a very busy human that can spare them only a few moments, and hearing what they are looking for, directs them to the Sheriff Reg Ty-Djarling. This half elven gentleman eyes the party for a while, and reluctantly mentions an on-going issue with caravans being harassed by bandits on the roads leading out of town. He would be obliged if the party could investigate, seeing as how the town guard is short handed enough so that they can not adequately address the issue themselves.

Skylar, Genoa and Brynn express reluctance to go until they have arranged for certain items to be crafted by the townsfolk (bow, sword, and the like), but having ordered their gear, suit up and head out with the rest of the party. Just a few hours north of town, they spy traces of the bandits.

Sneaking forward while following the tracks, the party enters the woods to try to locate the bandits themselves. Eyes to the ground, they are taken mostly by surprise as several ruffians emerge from the surrounding forest. Ignoring “requests” to throw down their weapons, the party springs to the attack. Brynn and Grimnyr immediately attack the bandits close to them, with Tombit moving around behind the bandits to use his sneak attack. Skylar hangs back, laying down a barrage of arrows against unengaged thugs. Genoa sends in her wolf, and pulls her scimitar to wade into combat. Athena, previous wont to hang back and provide healing, decides to take matters into her own hands, and also pulls a scimitar.

Under the combined attacks of all the party members, the bandits quickly fall, without causing serious harm to the group. And injuries are easily mended under the tender care of Athena and her “caduceus stick”, a wand of healing found earlier during her adventures. Gathering what loot they can, and any “proof” of these thugs being bandits, the party moves to another location and camps, night having come upon them. The party takes turns keeping watch, and the night passes uneventfully. Waking refreshed, they make their way back to the road, looking for further traces of bandits or bandit-like activities. 

Only Tombit and Skylar sense something amiss, the rangers and druid of the party too intent in the search. With little warning, the bandits hidden amongst the trees open fire with heavy crossbows! After the first hits and near misses, the party charges towards the trees holding the bandits. They are showered again by bolts, injuring them slightly, as they near the towering timber. Skylar hangs back, returning fire and covering for Tombit, who clambers up one tree after his foe. He moves agilely from branch to branch, but fails to notice an archer in a tree nearby. He is hit several times by bolts before he can get the bulk of the tree trunk between himself and the crossbowman.

Genoa has her wolf, Timber, hold back, knowing he would not be able to assist in this fight, as the enemy is high above them in the trees. She, however, uses her sling and spells to good effect, causing some damage to the foes above. Athena lays healing hands (and stick) upon some of her allies, moving from one to another, making sure health and spirits are kept up. Brynn pulls his bow and also puts it to good use, as he nails one bandit to the limb he was crouched on. Grimnyr grimaces in frustration, knowing a dwarf in scale armor (shoot, dwarves in general) were never meant to climb trees. As much as it pains him, he grudgingly unslings his bow and fires into the trees, grumbling all the while about enemies that wouldn’t face him head on. The party ignores his muttered diatribe, having heard it all before. A few even conceal grins, the expressions out of place in this setting.

Grimnyr gets his wish as several ground-based bandits try to rush the party, under the covering fire from the tree-ensconced ones. Brynn drops his bow, and unsheathes his swords, readying himself for the charge. Skylar steps back, still firing into the melee, her shots unerringly true. Athena pulls her mace, and her scimitar, and wades into battle. Her training at Brynn’s hands holds her in good stead as she wields both weapons easily. Tombit, having reached his foe, pummels the foe, causing him to tumble out of the tree, dead even before the body hits the ground. Tombit then shimmies down the tree, looking for more targets. Genoa focuses her attacks on the next archer within range, causing the very trees to hold him still. Skylar’s arrows find their mark in the man’s cold heart. The tree branches hold the body like some obscene ornament.

Grimnyr’s excitement about fighting toe-to-toe fades as he finds he cannot seem to connect solidly with his foes. He is frustrated by Brynn taking down his opponent with two solid sword thrusts, takes a moment to exclaim, “That was me kill!” before turning to attack another bandit trying to sneak attack him. To his satisfaction, the man drops after Grimnyr’s axe seems to slide right through the bandit’s armor, and then into the underlying flesh. “Got ‘im in one” he smirks, just as he is struck from behind by the dead man’s compatriot. This avails the bandit little, as Genoa and Brynn both strike him down in a series of blows.

Shortly, the party runs out of foes. Breathing deeply in the sudden calm after the battle, they take stock of the remnants of their foes. And then remember the admonishment by the Sheriff to bring the bandits back to town for justice. Oops. They feel that bringing back any emblem or proof of their banditry would be enough, and would save the town the expense of jailing, feeding, trying, and then ultimately executing the men for banditry. This thought holds varying degrees of comfort for the party, with the cleric being the least convinced. They agree that the last battle was for self-preservation, and thus unavoidable that they slew all opponents. They decide to try harder to subdue rather than kill the next band they encounter.

After patching themselves up, they return to town, to inform the Sheriff of what they have found, and to drop off any proof they had gathered of the slain men’s involvement in banditry. Reg, far from being totally pleased with the groups’ actions, still begrudgingly admits that they are doing well, but reiterates his request for the bandits to be captured alive if possible. He will let them know once he has more information about bandit activities, and gives them a small reward for the work thus-far done. The party takes their leave from the Sheriffs office, and heads back to the Dancing Pony to rest.

In the days that follow, Brynn takes some time looking for an animal companion, having attained rank enough to call one with newly gained spells. He returns to town occasionally, frustrated with the lack suitable companions in the area. Genoa enters the forests as well, looking for another companion to call to her side. She decides she wants a bird this time, and calls out for an owl. Her searches lead her, interestingly enough, back into town, where a barn owl had taken up residence in an attic. Calling softly, the bird comes to her beck, and becomes a friend with the dwarvish druid. Genoa decides to call her new companion Sequoia. 

Skylar spends her time discussing her desire for a new bow with the town bowyer/fletcher. She is told that crafting such a bow as she requested would take some time, but could be done within the week. Skylar places some money with the tradesman, with the promise of the remainder once the bow is completed. Genoa likewise had commissioned an item; this one a masterwork wooden buckler, to augment her defenses. Grimnyr is found alternately with the blacksmith and the tavern, in one building up a great thirst, and in the other quenching it. He seems happier than he’s been in awhile.

Athena heads to the town temple, dedicated to Torm, but with shrines to many of the benevolent deities. She speaks with the head priestess of many things spiritually related, and expands her knowledge of the arcane and the divine. She also helps prepare healing potions, as the party’s supplies had dwindled since they had been in the tri-towns valley.

Tombit occupies himself at the inn, alternating swigs of ale with slices of pie. His desire to tell of his adventures to anyone and everyone in earshot occasionally makes for uncomfortable conversation, but the townsfolk grow accustomed to the constant tales, and only a few actively find pressing business elsewhere whenever the Halfling comes nearby.

Soon, the party is summoned again before Reg. He tells them of attacks in neighboring farms, and requests that they investigate. He gives rudimentary directions, and wishes them good speed. Some of the party think that their welcome might have gotten a little strained in the town during the wait, and eye the Halfling suspiciously. Tombit seems unperturbed by the scrutiny. 

The adventurers work their way to the north of town, to a farm owned by Frank (pronounce FRAHNK), who in turn directs them further north, and to the west, where the attack occurred. The party thanks him, and continues on the trail of the bandits. The soon leave the road, and find themselves in a dry riverbed. The sand shows signs of many feet, although obscured by nature’s actions in the past few days. Even so, the rangers manage to track the passage of a specific set of footprints (at one point, the young cleric/ranger Athena even shows up the gruff Brynn in following tracks). Expecting an attack, the party is not taken by surprise when a large group of men, halfelves, and a half-orc jumps out of the woods. 

The battle is brief, with just three bandits surviving the attack. The party had tried to pull their blows, but were too caught up in the attack to take great care. Sheepishly, they tie the survivors up, trying to decide what to do with them. Some argue that they take the now-unconscious thugs back to town, while others (Brynn being the most vocal) want to interrogate them, find their base of operations, and shut down the whole group. A consensus is reached that the prisoners will be required to talk, for a chance at leniency. The three, reluctant at first, start talking when Grimnyr and Brynn threaten with bare blades. They are lead by a half-orc named Brug, who has been recruiting from local bands of orcs, army deserters, and disillusioned townsfolk. The adventurer’s depredations against his ranks were like a gall, but he has been biding his time, trying to gather forces to attack.


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## Softwind (Oct 23, 2003)

*Ninth Session (Nov 2002)*

With this news, the party decides to press on, to take Brug by surprise, and take him to town for justice. With the aid of the reluctant informers, they continued up the riverbed, further into the forests surrounding Merikest. However, their plan to surprise Brug’s band is foiled by alert perimeter guards, and the party again finds itself under fire from the trees.

Brynn, Grimnyr, and Tombit charge forward, braving the missles, to draw closer to the foes. Athena circles around, to stay near the fighters in case her healing arts were needed, and with weapons at the ready, to be drawn if an opponent revealed himself nearby. Genoa moved the other direction, to avoid the bolts and to try to get a better vantage point to cast upon the crossbowmen. Her wolf and owl staying close, ready to aid if needed. Skylar moved beside a tree, to give less of a target, while she searched, arrow nocked in bow, for a target. Her patience pays off as an orcish bowman leans out from the trees to look for targets himself. His eyes dim in death as Skylar’s arrow pierces his neck. The thump of a body falling to the ground below is heard by all, as is the loud “Yes!” from the elf.

Heartened by this early, quick success, the rest of the party moves in, trying (albeit not very hard) to subdue, rather than kill their opponents. They spread out, watchful for ground opponents, confident in their friend’s abilities with the bow to keep them covered. The find resistance to their movements in the form of a large half-orc in banded armor, accompanied by several disheveled leather clad figures, all wielding weapons of some sort. A few looked more proficient with the armaments they carried, than the others that had modified farming implements.

Brynn strides forward, demanding the immediate surrender of the bandit mob. His response is a quick attack by the group. Concealing a grin, Brynn pulls his sword and wades into battle, his honor satisfied by the offer to the bandits. His companions also leap into the fray. Tombit tries to circle around to sneak attack, Grimnyr grips his dwarven battleaxe and charges, Athena pulls her weapons out, waiting, Genoa sends in her wolf as she prepares a spell, and Skylar lays into the tree-ensconced bandits with her bow and deadly arrows.

The half-orc leader commands his men to charge, then pulls out a finely crafted greatsword and rushes in as well. Hampered by the need to bring back at least a few alive, the party takes more blows than they normally would, and as they find more of their blood being spilled (and Athena hard pressed to keep them healed), the tenor of the battle changes. No longer holding back the deadliness of the blows, their combined might slays several bandits in a row. Several thugs become disheartened, and attempt to flee, but are knocked down and out by the large wolf, Timber and the spells by Genoa.

Tombit contributes to the unconscious by stunning and cold-cocking the leader Brug, with assistance by Grimnyr and Brynn. (Grimnyr just _barely_ holding back a killing blow – he does _not_ like orcs, half or no). At last, the body count (dead or knocked out) reaches the same number of once-standing foes. The band of adventurers-turned-bounty-hunters relax, and begin tending to wounds. The druid assists, using a new power granted to her to close wounds over the course of just moments. Tombit, ever curious, paws through the bodies of the thugs, looking for interesting baubles, and perhaps, pie. The former is found in plenty, the latter…well, even a hungry Halfling would turn his nose up at that. With the unconscious bandits well trussed, the party sits to take a rest. Soon, the men start waking up, and with muffled shouts, try to free themselves from their bondage. In vain, as they find out, as Tombit had paid special care to the knots. Discouraged, the thugs wait somewhat quietly to see what their capturers will do with them.

Athena grabs the other captives, conveniently stowed a ways from the battle, and puts the two groups together. The addition of the previous captives earns them looks of hatred, for the fresh band knew then who had betrayed them. The party pays this no mind, as the ultimate fate of these men would now rest in the hands of the authorities in Merikest. Having rested long enough, the party pulls their prisoners to their feet, and forces them back towards town. It takes the better part of the day to reach the outskirts of town, especially with the occasional frenzied attempts by the bandits to free themselves and get away. To no avail, and soon Reg’s guards take the men away. Reg is ecstatic, because the leader of the band is recognized as a wanted fugitive. He congratulates the party, and gives them their much deserved reward. He chooses to look aside the fact that less than a fifth of the known bandits had been delivered alive. This side comment echoes in their head hours later when they pass by the Sheriff’s office and see a gallows, all nooses filled by the corpses of all the men they had brought back. The softer-hearted of the group cringes at the evidence of torture upon the bodies of the dead. Only Grimnyr mutters “They gots what was comin’ to em”, looking pointedly at the halforc leader.

After the furious activity of the past few days, the crew decides to take a break and relax in town. The mood of the town has changed; less of a pall weighs upon it, after the threat of the bandits had been removed. Townsfolk often stop to say hello, and to thank the party for the work they did in removing the menace. Even with Tombit’s tale telling, the people of Merikest seem much less cool towards the party, rarely ever crossing the street to avoid the Halfling…

Brynn takes this opportunity to look for a companion – and finds an adolescent cougar, ribs visible and coat in sad shape. For whatever reason, the dwarven ranger takes a liking to the scrawny animal, and sets about befriending it, with spell and with kindness. Within a week of hunting with Brynn, Karazak begins to fill out, his belly full and coat regaining its luster. The two find they compliment each other, both in the hunt, and the times between. At the end of the week, Brynn heads back to town, instructing Karazak to remain nearby, as he will visit when he can. The cougar reluctantly agrees, not wanting to part from his new found friend who had helped him feed. Brynn reassures the great cat that it will not be long before they rejoin each other, and tells him that his presence in town would cause too much fear. Beaming with pride, the cat slinks off into the woods again, leaving Brynn alone to return to Merikest.

Shortly, the Sheriff sends a runner to the Dancing Pony, looking for the group. When they are gathered in his office, he asks them if they are interested in another job. The party agrees, and the half-elven Sheriff proceeds to fill them in on another difficulty. It seems that there is a fort, Brightstone Keep, about a day’s ride to the north. Previously occupied by an army from Everlund, it now stands abandoned, ready to be tenanted again. Reg fears that the orcs, previously driven away by the Everlundian forces, may be returning to take over the Keep. And if that happened, it would effectively cut off Merikest from the north. He requests that the party make all speed to check on the fort, and clear it of any interlopers if necessary. He still lacks men to send with the party, but does offer to dip into the town coffers to offset any costs in preparation. Having racked up some expenses, the party agrees, and leaves to get ready.

Humphrey, having been visited several times already by the party seeking to identify items, is not surprised to see them again. He pulls out the items he has already identified, mostly armor, weapons, and beneficial items, and discusses his fee. The party agrees on paying him in gems, and in a minor fire resistance ring, which will allow the mage to better enjoy his pet, er familiar, er whatever that fire-newt thing is in the back room. The party gathers up their gear, and prepares to head north to Brightstone Keep. Having previously purchased horses, they make quick time along the road that passes north through the forest. Along the way, they encounter some of the orcs warned about, but the pig-snouted humanoids prove to be no match against these seasoned adventurers. However, they are delayed by the encounters, so camp that night near the cliff that the Keep rests on.

Having decided to take a back-door approach to the keep, the party scales the cliff wall, leaving the wolf and cat behind. They promise the animals to return soon, and instruct them to stay nearby, hunting as needed. The animal companions agree, and disappear into the woods – a strange sight, a large wolf (4’ at the shoulder by now) walking beside a great cat, without strife. Reassured of the animals’ safety (and lack of hostility to each other), the party climbs the cliffside. Making their way towards the Keep, they are startled by the remains of several humanoids rising up to confront them. The battle is brief, as the cleric in the party calls down holy wrath and Turns them, right into dust! This disgruntles Grimnyr, who was itching for a fight, but even he sees the benefit in the quick dispatch of the undead. They continue onward, reaching the Keep shortly. They spot several figures walking the walls, or peering out from on top the towers. There is much debate on when to enter, and where. The party decides to wait until night, and climb up a back wall. They settle in for a long wait, occasionally peering over the covering brush and rock to watch the Keep.

When at last the sun has set, and the partial moon is shedding its wan light, they move across the no-mans-land around the Keep, towards the back. In hushed whispers, they discuss the plan again. The Halfling is sent to climb the wall, being the most limber of the bunch. He is followed by Brynn and Athena, being the next stealthy of the group. Genoa, Grimnyr, and Skylar stay back, to provide backup if needed.

Tombit manages to get a rope, attached to a grapnel, up onto the crenulations of the wall after several tries, with pauses between attempts, looking for any response the gentle clink of metal against stone may have caused. Assured by the lack of activity above, he clambers up the rope and onto the walkway. He motions for the next group to come up the rope. The ranger and cleric gain the wall quickly, and call out for the rest of the party. Grimnyr learns to his dismay that the armor he wears is not made for stealth, but a thoughtful Silence spell muffles any noises made during his ascent. Seeing two doors, one on either side of the wall, leading into towers, the party randomly chooses and enters the eastern door. They find themselves on the second of three floors, with staircases leading up and down. Thinking the main force of the defenders will be on the ground level, they make their way to the staircase and quietly move down the steps. 

The party is surprised to see rows of beds, with a variety of races chained to them. Humans, Gnomes, Dwarves, Halflings, even Kobolds rest here! And guarding the group of listless or sleeping prisoners are several goblins, and some large creature, with mottled green skin and long arms that reach the ground. The party declares this beast a knuckle-dragger, and from the look of it, decides it will be a tough fight. They send Tombit to quietly try to release the captives, and hope that in the distraction, they will be able to take the goblins and their knuckle-dragging companion. The distraction works, as the freed prisoners makes it hard for the guards to know what is going on. The party takes this moment of opportunity, and strikes!

The goblins are rapidly cut down, but the green giant seems to shrug off the blows of the party. They retreat up the stairs, followed by the creature, while the erstwhile prisoners hang back, or continue to pummel the corpses of the goblins that had held them captive. The party is hard pressed to permanently damage this foe, as every blow seems to heal up as quickly as it is dealt. Only when they resort to fire does the beast finally lay still. Athena is busy casting healing spells on the sorely wounded party, herself included, and exhausts her repertoire, resorting to using the caduceus stick laboriously filled with charges (rechargeable by 1st level cure spells cast into it).

Feeling better for the rest, the party works their way out the building and onto the walkway. Against their requests, the freed prisoners jump the wall and head into the forests surrounding the Keep. Most of them are away before orc guards spot them. The party is able to silence the guards without raising the general alarm. They open the other door on the wall, leading into the second rear tower. The set up is similar, although the stairway to the roof is badly rotted and unusable. Again, Tombit creeps down the stairway to the ground floor. And again, there are beds with a variety of occupants, goblin guards, and another of the green knuckle draggers. Tombit works on freeing the prisoners, even the kobolds, but is spotted by a goblin guard. Tombit races for the stairway, followed closely by the guards. The rest of the party heads downstairs to engage the guards, while the former slaves cheer them on, quietly. The second troll (knuckle dragger) proves to be a tougher foe, and even after the goblins are laid out, continues to batter at the party, inflicting grievous wounds. The battle rages up the stairs and onto the wall, where the party digs in their heels and focuses on the troll.

Genoa summons a Flame Blade, but finds it ineffectual against the creature – the flames seem to dim when they near the troll. Brynn’s lightning-imbued sword seems to only infuriate the creature, doing no additional harm even though electricity is seen to dance upon the blade. Someone comes up with the idea to douse the troll with lamp oil and toss an alchemical fire onto him. The flames die aborning. It is then that the party spies the ring seemingly out of place upon the finger of the troll. Magic! The battle concludes in comic fashion, as the troll, being pummeled into unconsciousness is grappled by several people in an attempt to pry the ring off its hand. Forgetting the oil generously slathered upon him, several people slip and slide, all the while coating themselves, in the struggle. Once the ring is pried free, and promptly flies from oil soaked hands over the wall, the druid’s dwindling Flame Blade ignites the creature. Its screams of agony are quickly drowned out by the roar of the fire. The party narrowly avoids being burnt themselves as they head over the wall. They decide that another assault later would be advisable, rather than remaining in the Keep.

They head away from the Keep, hiding themselves again in the brush and rocks nearby. Wounds are tended while they regroup, planning the next course of action. They spot activity on the walls, but all seems to be in confusion, with no order to the running around. Once they are feeling healthy again, they return to the scene of the “crime”, the oily, burnt flesh smell hanging in the air. They climb the rope left behind, and make their way through the tower and onto the next wall walkway, where they confront the orcish guards. With Skylar’s arrows clearing the way, the party makes it to the cover of the next tower, where they fight a protracted battle against the defenders. Tombit attempts to sneak attack several, only to discover he’s been cut off from the rest of the party. Wounded by orc javelins and swords, he tumbles past the orcs and falls unconscious at the feet of the cleric. One healing later, he’s back into the thick of things, his Halfling hands propelled to deadly force by his monkish training.

The group continues from that tower, up onto the roof, where a pair of snipers awaits. Several arrows from Brynn and Skylar pin the orc corpses to the roof before they barely have a chance to react to the death being dealt. From their vantage point, the bow-weilders do not see any further opponents, although now the creature in the courtyard, dimly seen from the other walls, is revealed. Frost covers the ground around the large wolf-like creature, and lines the chain links that keep it connected to a winch. Curious, the party descends into the courtyard, and approaches the beast. They are surprised to hear it speak!

“Free me”, it states, glaring at the band of adventurers surrounding him. “I have no quarrel with you.”

“By what shall we trust you?” asks the band’s leader, Brynn. “We know not what manner of creature you are. For all we know, you would seek to attack us for this favor.”

“I have no quarrel with you. I seek only my own freedom.” Comes the growled response. “If I am freed, all that I have gathered is yours as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Beneath this which keeps me captive is my treasure. I cannot carry it; I have no need of it. It will stand as my bond to do you no harm, should you free me.”

“Agreed.”

Having said so, the ranger sunders the chain, granting the wolf-like creature its freedom. With a gleeful howling, the creature leaps away, out through the open gates and into the night. Tombit pulls away the stones around the winch, revealing a depression in the ground. Artfully hidden are several gemstones, a potion, and loose coins. Pocketing the bonus goods, the band of adventurers makes their way out of the Keep and into the surrounding woods.


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## Softwind (Nov 6, 2003)

Continuance of the story here will be delayed while I re-find my notes.  Or, failing that, recreate the events of the gaming sessions picking up from the last session posted.  

I hope to have something within the next week posted here.  Keep watching!


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## Esiminar (Nov 6, 2003)

The small text is very hard on the eyes and makes it dificult to read an otherwise great story.


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## Softwind (Nov 10, 2003)

Esiminar said:
			
		

> The small text is very hard on the eyes and makes it dificult to read an otherwise great story.



Insert big D'OH! right here.

I'm having issues with the text size, font, spacing.  Seems to occur when I cut-n-paste from MS Word XP for some reason.  Going to try to use Notepad to paste.

Sorry for the eyestrain folks!  And I found (some) of my notes.  I should be posting again this afternoon.

Thanks for the hits! (and, the feedback)


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## Softwind (Nov 10, 2003)

*Tenth Session (Nov 02)*

  Having cleared the woods of bandits, and run off bands of orcs, goblins, and other forest denizens, the journey back to Merikest is uneventful for the group of adventurers. By the next day, they reach the outskirts of town, and even the ranger Brynn is relieved to see “civilization”. Dropping off their unneeded gear in the Dancing Pony inn, they head out to report their findings and success to Reg, the town sheriff. They are quickly ushered into his office. He is pleased to hear that Brightstone Keep has been cleared of its “infestation” of monsters, and thanks the party proficiently. With their newfound wealth, both from rewards and from loot gathered from the Keep, the party separates to do some shopping in town.

  A small town, Merikest’s recent history of occupation from forces of the Argent Legion yet provides many of the things the party is looking for – masterwork weaponry, armor, healing potions, and traveling gear. And although many people actively avoid meeting the gaze of the party’s Halfling “storyteller”, for fear of hearing ALL about the recent adventures, and what he found in the alley, and what he had for breakfast, and second breakfast, and… (You get the picture), the party is greeted with genuine warmth and friendship. Some of the regular tavern-goers even stand the group a round on occasion.

  It is on one of the lazy days after the party’s return that they hear the alarm bell ringing in the temple tower, interrupting their drinking, and halting Tombit in mid sentence, much to the barkeeps relief. Buckling on weapons laid aside, they rush out onto the streets, looking for the reason behind the alert. As they look to the north, they see a band of slow moving travelers upon the road leading towards Brightstone Keep. It takes a moment to realize that the mob’s movement is very disjointed and clumsy – almost as if there was no real intelligence behind the motion. Several town guards are already in formation, watching the advancing mob.

 As one, the group moves cautiously up the street, towards this odd but innocuous band. When the distance is halved, the reason for the peculiarity is discovered; only one of the band shows any form of life! Beneath the hood of his cloak, the orc necromancer hisses his displeasure at the party, and vows that they shall join his ranks of the walking dead. The town guards take umbrage to this affront to their new local heroes, and they begin the attack.

 Even the alarm bell does not drown out the laughter of Brynn as he gleefully unsheathes his weapons, a feral grin on his face. “Been too quiet round here anyhow” he is heard to say. His sentiment is echoed by all, as the quiet sound of metal being drawn is heard. Grimnyr takes a few test swings of his dwarven waraxe, and squints at the on-coming opponents, as if to determine which ones he would take down first. Skylar, allowing action to speak louder than words, fires several arrows in rapid succession, the shafts missing a guard, burying themselves in the chest of a zombie in the front row, staggering it but not stopping the creature.

 Genoa and Tombit move to one side of the road, advancing forward. Athena pulls his mace, and grips her holy symbol tightly in her hand, both anticipating combat, and repulsed by the stench, both physical and spiritual, of the creatures before her. Grimnyr abandons caution, and races forward to engage the enemy. A scarce moment later, he is gripped with fear as his orc opponent casts upon him. As much as it nauseates him to be gripped by fear in the face of his enemy, he cannot help but be cowed by the force of the magic. 

 The elven archer, indifferent to all but her target, launches more shafts, her aim true and steady. Under the hail, one of the skeletons in the group crumbles into bone chips, fractured femurs, and dust. A sly grin crosses her face, and she growls in pleasure, startling Grimnyr. “Durn fool elf. Sissy weapon anyway” He speeds up, hoping to engage before the “durn elf” kills (or rekills) ‘em all. His speed doubles as he witnesses a town defender fall beneath repeated strikes.

 Athena hurries forward, and stops to concentrate upon her holy symbol, and the advancing abominations. They halt their movements forward, and several of them turn away from her upraised hand, radiant light shining from it. “Back, ye creatures! Lay thyselves once more into the soil, bother the living no longer!” she cries, in strenuous tones unlike her soft-spoken voice. Some but not all of the gathering heeds her words; those so affected move as quickly as they can away from her, back towards the hooded orc in the back. The necromancer, not to be outdone, raises his clawed hands in a manner almost like supplication, but the words from his mouth show nothing but strength. “Be strong, my children. Let not the lies of the weak goad you to fear. Return, return I say, and wreak havoc upon the unbelievers! Go, now!”

 To the amazement of the cleric, and others near her, the fleeing undead halt, and move again towards the heroes, and re-engage the guardsmen. Another brave fighter succumbs to his injuries, thinning again the ranks of the already small force. A palatable haze seems to settle upon the group, their spirits flagging in the depressive atmosphere. A grin spreads across the orc’s face. A mistake. Grimnyr, seeing a most hated enemy happy, shakes off the effects of the haze, and shouting, races ahead, through the horde of undead, intent in allowing his axe to taste orc-flesh. Adding to the original mistake, as he is slowed to a crawl by the reaching, rotting hands that surround him.

 Brynn leaps ahead, and with dual swords, lops off grasping hands, working his way to his compatriot. Genoa sends in Timber, her wolf companion, to provide a distraction as she readies her sling and bullets. Skylar continues to slowly advance and launch her arrows, watching as her targets sprout like obscene trees. Athena once again calls upon divine might, and forces back many of the skeletons, to give her companions time to deal with the array of zombies, and more troublesome, the orc necromancer. She despairs as she witnesses the townsfolk struggling to defend their town against the unnatural foes.

 Surrounded by the undead, Brynn and Grimnyr hack and hew in abandon, detaching hands from arms, heads from torso, and shattering ribcages, getting scratched up badly in the process. The nauseating odor of rotting flesh, bad from a distance, is magnified ten fold as their blades open up the rotting carcasses like watermelons under a mallet. Breathing through their mouths, they continue, their wounds streaming with the very fluid the undead envy. It is as though they strive together in a contest – who is the stoutest dwarf?

 Growling in frustration, anger, and hatred, the orc thrusts his hands to the grey skies above, and shouts out the commands to once again strengthen his forces, goading them back at the heros arrayed before him. To his satisfaction, they once more turn upon the group. Tombit, having slowly working his way towards the orc, and witnessing this serve-return-return between the two casters, decides to put an end to the byplay. His short legs pumping, he leaps at the orc, hands clenched in the manner of his monkish fighting style. The impact stuns the necro a moment, taking him off guard. He grimaces at the Cheshire-grinning Halfling as he attempts to open his air-deprived lungs in a breath. Tombit just continues to grin at the orc’s discomfort.

 Athena advances, reasoning that closing the distance will make her efforts more successful. She glances worriedly around, wondering where the rest of the town defenders are, namely the temple clerics. These, she reasons, are the ones most fit to take up the defense against the undead. Her heart aches every time she watches a guard go down, perhaps never to rise again. This steels her resolve and her commanding nature flairs as Garl’s name is invoked in defiance against the unnatural abominations of the walking dead. Several of her opponents crumble before the holy onslaught, others turn away from friend and foe alike, and unfortunately, others remain unaffected. 

 The orc pulls a wand from within the folds of his cloak, brandishing it against the heroes. Or at least tries to. His concentration is broken by the shattering blows of his diminutive opponent. Tombit hands, small as they are, still deal enough hurt upon the necromancer to prevent successful completion of the command word. Frustration is joined by fear, as the eyes of the orc take in just how little real effect his minions have had upon the group of adventurers, and how few remain.

 “Old man, yer slowing down” Brynn taunts Grimnyr. “Yeargh!” comes the angry reply, as the dwarves continue to wield their weapons in a proficient manner. Even the mindless undead still surrounding them seems to pause at this, before resuming their assault. Grimnyr indeed does begin to slow down, as the multitude of wounds on his body bleed freely. He does not admit weakness though, and ramps up his efforts, frustrated by the slipperiness of his axe handle, and the misses that keep compounding. Brynn, secretly worried by his elder’s flagging efforts, snaps his blades at the skeletons facing Grimnyr. Outwardly upset, “Keep yer blades off’n my kills!”, Grimnyr is relieved at the respite as his target goes down. Both of them are upset at the felling of the townsfolk guards, many of them downy faced lads, and redouble their efforts, their weapons blurring.

(continued in part 2, for easier reading, I hope)


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## Softwind (Nov 10, 2003)

*Tenth Episode (Nov 02), part two*

Skylar clears a path for Athena as the gnome strides purposely forward, eyes intent on her orc opponent. Like magic, two zombies crumple to the ground before her, as she almost absent-mindedly swings her mace to collapse a skeleton before her. Athena’s motions slow the closer she gets to the necromancer, the combat of wills almost palatable. The normally sedate cleric’s eyes show her indignation, anger and righteous fury at the perversion this, spit, creature has brought into existence. Just a few feet further…..

Fear replacing glee, the orc screams, and turns to run. Tombit, at the ready, leaps upon the knees of the cloaked figure, causing him to stumble. Genoa, her sling stones depleted, appears almost as if by magic, and attacks with her scimitar, opening a gash across the back muscles of the orc. Skylar’s arrow finds its mark in his shoulder. Timber bites at the Achilles tendon, and feels the satisfying *crunch* of tendon and bone separating. Brynn leaps forward, his last opponent felled by Grimnyr’s axe (much to the latter’s bemusement – “Slow, HAH!”) but his blade swings high as the orc crumples, screaming and clawing at his injured back 

Somehow, the group manages to not slay the necromancer outright, but subdues him and begins questioning him, in his native tongue. At first, the creature remains silent, with groans the only thing escaping between clenched teeth. But when Timber, at Genoa’s request, steps upon the orc’s chest and brings his toothy maw to the creature’s throat, he begins to talk. Under questions, he reveals he was a once follower of Kelemvor, but converted to an unnamed power when his proclivity to the undead came up. He had been the nominal leader of the forces at Brightstone Keep, until the party had neatly killed them all. The resulting fires dealt too much damage to many of the corpses, and he was only able to salvage some to add to his undead forces. In his anger and haste, he neglected to count on the strength of the party. At this, he begins cursing the party, his voice cut short, literally, by Grimnyr’s axe. 

Shocked, the party looks at the elder dwarf, who meets their gaze levelly. “Orc’s don’t need no reason for killin’,” was his reply. Further words are stalled as the town clerics *finally* arrive, in time to heal those needing it, and perform last rites on those who no longer had worldly concerns. Refreshed by the healing powers, the party examines the remains of their opponents. Many of the bodies carried nothing, although the “fresher” of the corpses were still wearing funerary or adventuring gear. Apparently the orc had neglected to loot in his hurry for revenge. And the orc himself carried a fair amount of rough gems, mined perhaps near Brightstone Keep. The group splits the loot with the town, having once again removed a threat to the people of Merikest. (Although they felt ashamed at missing an enemy in the surrounds of the Keep).

A somber Reg comes out to survey the damage, and assess the remaining town forces. His grim look strikes daggers into the heart of the matronly Athena especially, but he says not a word. A moment later, he quietly thanks the group for their assistance, and turns away, his posture slumped. Tombit, wishing to say something, is forestalled by Brynn, who silently shakes his head in negation. They watch the town sheriff return to his office, and the paperwork therein. The party does not envy the man and the work that lies ahead. How does one explain to a widow or an orphan or a sibling why daddy or brother won’t be coming home again?

Grim, they return to the Prancing Pony, to call for as much hot water, harsh scrubbing pads, and strong drink as they can find coin for.


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## Genoa Redstone (Nov 12, 2003)

*Good job!*

Let's hear more about that fantastic Dwarven Druid!!!   

Nice job btw, Softwind!


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## Softwind (Nov 13, 2003)

*The statue speaks*

*Eleventh Session (Dec 02)*

Days pass, as they are inclined to do. The Companions seek activity to keep their minds off events just a few days old. It is too much like what occurred just a few weeks (subjective)/2 years past in their home villages. The sense of despair, and loss, lingers over Merikest. But sorrow is not a new experience, and even though the townsfolk continue to grieve their loss, life goes on. Genoa and Brynn spend much time in the woods surrounding their town, learning about their companions, teaching them new tricks, and letting the healing power of nature wash away their hurts, mental and spiritual. Even Athena occasionally joins them, to watch in gentle amusement at the antics of adolescent Karazak and gruff Brynn. Genoa joins in the laughter as the two tumble in a larger-than-life game of “cat-and-mouse”. 

Genoa is more reserved around Timber, the once small wolf gaining in size from the days in the Valley. But even she displays her pleasure at the sleek coat, rippling muscle, lolling tongue, and mischievous look in her friend’s eyes. Timber thrives in her presence, and she is pleased. She and Brynn take time to instruct Athena in her budding Ranger talents, and commiserate in the seemingly slow progress she makes. (Later, they learn of their friend’s envy of their companions. Apparently, there was a favored stuffed animal in Athena’s life. A certain badger…)

Skylar too spends time in the forest, although does not seek out her companions. Her time is spent in contemplation, and in crafting more of the arrows that are her calling. Witness to atrocities, she vows each arrow fired would be in defense of the defenseless, and to the destruction of evil. That, and she just *loves* the feel of her bow, the whistle of the arrow fletching, the satisfying *thwok* of the shaft hitting and penetrating the target. With a rare display of glee, she hugs the new shafts to her chest before humming a childhood ditty, and looks about for more material to craft. Few birds escape with plumage intact, their quills adding to her cause, thankful at least she had asked them only for feathers, and not their lives, although the racket of their indignity belies their thankfulness.

Tombit, his eating schedule disrupted by the past days events, makes up for lost time. In between mouthfuls of pie (his favorite dish), he regales all that would listen of his exploits. How he single-handedly (well, okay, with a *little* help) defeated the denizens of the forest, and the Keep, and the orcs, and the undead, and, and, and…. Many a baker and innkeeper are silently glad when the pie supply runs out, and the talkative Halfling is forced to move on. “Better Gertie than I, thinks I!” whispers a particularly tired innkeeper’s wife, as she watches Tombit move down the road to an Inn, known for their desserts. “Poor Gertie, though. She takes so much pride in the fact she can out bake us all!” *cackle* “Poor, poor Gertie. Heh, serves her right!” Tombit, intent on his next meal, was oblivious to it all.

Grimnyr spends his time in town, not much taken with the idea of “pouncing” about in the forest. Instead, he seems intent in trying out every flavor, color, texture, and alcohol content level of beer and ale in town. On each occasion that he finds one “fit ta drink”, he orders more for his own stash, and perhaps to share with others. Between drinks, he listens to the general chatter in the taverns, dispensing advice and comparing techniques of dispatching foes, be they gophers in a garden, or orcs out for blood. Only the most astute notice the underlying sadness of the dwarf. A hidden pain he would be mortified to know showed, even if only to the keen-eyed. He belies his feelings with demands for more drink, and frenetic activity in demonstrating a particularly effective strike of an imagined (or, if deep in his cups, real) axe. At the end of most nights, he is escorted / supported by his drinking companions, or the town guard, back to the Inn. If any of his companions notice his state, they are wise withhold comment.

It is with relief then to many in town, adventurer and townsfolk alike, when out of a clear sky one day comes a peal of thunder, but without a following flash of light. Broken out of the monotony, the band of adventurers ponders exiting the tavern, to look for the cause. They glance at their mugs, still half filled with ale. They are forestalled by a booming, metallic voice coming from the north. 

“Townsfolk! I seek a group of travelers known to be here. Bring them forward, and no harm will come to your homes.”

“What is this about?” the party wonders aloud. While Merikest is not on a major road, it is beginning to see a fair amount of travel, especially now that the woods have been made safer by the actions of the Companions. A burble of conversation begins around them, as the tavern patrons ask the same thing amongst themselves. The voice continues.

“I have been sent for a group of Dwarves, journeying in the company of a Gnome and a Halfling. Release them to me, and your dwellings will remain unharmed. Hold them from me, and I will level this place.”

Oh ho! Brynn looks at his friends, eyebrows raised. “Pretty specific, wouldn’t you say?” he asks. The rest of the group agrees, and they reach for their weapons, always at the ready. Even though it had been days since anything had threatened them, they had not let down their guard, and they still wore their armor. Weapons at their side, the last of the armor fasteners back in place, the party strolls outside, onto the main street. Curious eyes of townsfolk follow them as the advance toward the lone figure standing on the road at the outskirts of town. It stood in silence, watching them approach. It made no sound, nor motion, until they stood a dozen paces apart.

From a distance, the figure appeared to be clad in bronze or golden armor, unarmed, with a dark cloak idlely moving in the occasional zephyr. Closer, the armor seemed grafted to the figure’s body – artfully crafted at every joint, with no inhibition of movement, completely enclosing whoever, or whatever, stood within. Even the figure’s eyes were hidden; only glowing pinpoints of light were seen behind the visor. When at last the Companions stood before the armor-clad figure, Brynn asked, “Who are you, and what do you want with us?”

“I have been ordered to bring you to my Master. Failing that, to destroy you,” comes the reply.

Taken by surprise at the blunt answer, the party takes a collective step back, looking at each other. When nothing further occurs, they sheepishly grin, and turn back to the figure. Grimnyr hefts his axe, and pressing the head against the figure’s breastplate, pushes it forward, in a display of bravado. Or at least, tries to. The figure seems unperturbed, and unmoved. Grunting, Grimnyr pushes harder, to no effect. Realizing increased effort would just make him look foolish, he steps back and sizes up the opponent, perhaps for another try.

Brynn quickly steps in, and addressing the figure, asks “Who then is your master?”

“He is, The Master. Do you then come of your own accord?”

“No, we do not. We have no intention of leaving here”

“Then it is your death I seek” Flinging back the cloak, the figure leaps back, and rapiers appear in each hand. With the quickness of thought, it lunges forward, skewering Brynn. Grunting in pain, Brynn unsheathes his swords and retaliates, his blades ringing loudly against the armor of his opponent. When the blades are pulled back, the rents in the armor appear to begin to close on their own! And no blood or other fluid emerges from the injuries…

Genoa pulls her scimitar, but swings wildly, missing, as the figure seems to dodge her very blows. Grimnyr, axe readied, suffers a similar indignity as his axeblade cuts but air. Tombit, having taken the opportunity of the preceding conversation to maneuver his way behind the armor clad foe, attempts to sneak attack, only to be foiled by the strong armor’s resistance to his dagger. Athena’s mace seems to do more damage than any previous attack, but her blade finds only a corner of the cloak.

Again, the figure leaps forward, this time pinioning Genoa and Grimnyr to the ground, before the blades withdraw. The ferocity of the strikes takes their breath away as their wounds bleed quite freely. Their companions continue the attack, raining blows down on the silent figure. Only the sounds of weapons striking the metal armor, and the grunts and cries of the group are heard; the figure remains silent as the battle continues. Until one solid stroke by Brynn cleaves open a large gash in the armor.

“Ah, a worthy opponent. Good. Goooooood.” The figure appears almost excited. “Your death with be very satisfying.” Again, the blades whip out. Once, twice, thrice, and then again – four blows in rapid succession upon the ranger. Brynn staggers back, cruelly injured. Only to be partially restored by Athena’s quick healing hands. Vitality restored, the ranger’s grip on his weapons tightens, and his eyes narrow as he looks for weaknesses in his opponents guard.

Skylar, hanging back with bow ready, fires into the melee, her shafts seeking an opening through which to pierce. She is dismayed to see her arrows having no effect. Disbelieving, she continues to fire at the figure menacing her friends. Broken shafts litter the ground in short order, having snapped on impact with the bronze colored armor.

With Tombit clinging onto its back, and the other Companions harrying it from the front, the figure’s movements begin to slow, its strikes no longer falling so surely. The toneless voice speaks no longer, as, with final blows, the figure crumples to the ground, falling upon Grimnyr to pin him. Weary from the punishment of combat, and somewhat disoriented by the injuries followed by rapid healing, the party pauses to take stock, before the pinned dwarf’s shouts of indignity move them to pull the corpse off him.

Pride wounded, the freed dwarf kicks at the fallen foe, only to hop back, clutching broken toes. *CLANG* echoes between the buildings lining the streets, as do Dwarven epitaphs and curses. Startled by the now hollow sound of the armor, Brynn pulls back the helmet, revealing … nothing. The armor is empty… And, it is revealed to not be armor so much as an empty shell, immobile, and very heavy. Unnoticed, a vapor cloud departs the shell, moving towards Skylar, still anxiously holding her bow, arrow nocked.

The vapor lands in a small fountain besides the elf, and merges with the water. As she watches her companions examining the remains of their enemy, she fails to see or hear the form growing from the bowl of the fountain, composed of the water itself. Only stray droplets of water warn her as a watery limb attempts to strike her. Tumbling backwards, she rises up and fires twice before she even regains her feet. The shafts do not pass through the figure but instead stick, causing a liquid burbling from the creature. Encouraged by this success, her next series of shafts also strike true in rapid succession, and in moments, the fountain again is occupied by only water, plus a few fletched shafts. A whisper of “free” can be heard on the wind, as the water settles into the bowl once more.

The party arrives just in time to witness this, and turn as one to Skylar. She only raises her shoulders in a shrug, her face blank, and goes about seeing if any of her arrows can be recovered. Bemused, and a little puzzled, the group returns to the armor. It is Tombit who discovers that the shell holds not just air, but a collection of valuable items as well. A large brick of gold, inscribed with arcane symbols, rests in the lower section of the form, as do several scrolls, and a magic wand. The rapiers the figure wielded with such effect appear to be attached to the arms, although with a little work, they come free, much to Tombit’s glee. 

Although confused by what they found, and the events leading up to them, the party accepts the gain as their due, and returns to the tavern. Behind them, curious children emerge from the surrounding buildings, swarming the remains, while anxious parents look on, arms partially raised as if to call them back. The arms slowly lower as they see no harm comes to their offspring, and they glance at the retreating backs of the adventurers, a mixture of relief and anxiety upon their faces. The Companions continue on, intent on the tavern, unaware of the scrutiny.


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## Softwind (Nov 16, 2003)

*Lazy day in Merikest*

*Twelfth Session (Dec 02)*

Eventually, the bronze shell is removed from the road, and the traces of the battle fade, even as the last of the Companions wounds are healed, leaving fresh skin behind, and the need to mend some gear.  

Curious about the shell, Brynn calls on Humphrey, to learn what this strange figure could be.  The wizened sage listens to the description, and Lad scribes the account of the figure’s movements, construction, and speech patterns.  Brynn also borrows from Tombit one of the rapiers, the glove and arm piece still attached.  Covered in glyphs, the bronze material gleams dully in the flickering oil lights of Humphrey’s study.  The old man’s bushy eyebrows rise and fall repeatedly as he studies the runes, and compares them to several volumes in his lap.  Brynn waits patiently, occasionally looking about at his surroundings.  Being uneasy around so much arcana, his gaze eventually rests upon the wet bar nearby.  Despite attempts at stealth, in order to not disturb the sage’s concentration, he trips over a pile of books and substance-encrusted pots, creating a racket, and causing Humphry’s head to jerk upright.

“Nimblewraith” the wizard almost shouts, in response.

“I’m sorry, what did you call me?” asks the dwarf, thinking that this recent display does not justify the term “nimble”, let alone “wraith”.  

“Not you, my dear dwarf.  This…” comes the reply, as Humphry shakes the rapier/limb. “This creature, or more rightly, construct, is a Nimblewraith.  A very detailed creation, requiring expenditure of time, effort, and wealth to craft.  Usually created for enforcement duties.  Quite rare, as you may imagine.”  The mage pauses, looking at the dwarf expectantly.

“Aah, yeah, I can imagine.  Thank Mielikki there aren’t more around.” He says nervously, not liking to be on the spot, and still so far away from the ale at the bar.  Brynn works to extricate himself from the scattered tomes and cookware.  Succeeding, he lifts a flask pointedly at Humphrey, as if to ask permission.  He gains it with a negligent wave of the mage’s hand, as Humphrey returns to his books.  Smacking his lips in relish, Brynn pulls out his jet-encrusted mug, and pours himself a healthy draught.  “Ahhh, better in than out, I always say.”

“Brynn?” 

“Uh, aye, wizard?”

“Do you have more of this creation on hand?”

“Er, well, the townsfolk pulled it off the street.  But I suppose I could locate it for you.”

“If you would, dear boy.  I am most intrigued, and wish to study it more.”

“Okay.  If only to thank you for the help you have provided us thus far.  Consider it done.”

Finishing his drink, he stashes his mug, with one lingering look at the flask.  He doesn’t bother to ask the sage why he wants the old thing, thinking it better to not mess in the affairs of wizards.  Nodding to Humphrey, once more engrossed in his study, and Lad, who nods back, Brynn lets himself out and hunts down the remains, to arrange for them to be delivered to Humphrey.

He encounters Genoa, returning from a woodwork shop, bearing her new shield.  Fashioned of well-fitted, and very stout, oak boards, it seems up to the task of defending the druid.  Proud of her new acquisition, she shows off the leaf-detailing on the front, pointing out the near-imperceptible lines where the boards join.  Brynn takes a moment to congratulate her, before setting off again, looking for the nimblewraith remains.  He spies Athena emerging from the town temple, and crosses the street to meet up with her.  He spends a few minutes listening as the gnome cleric describes her progress in assisting in the production of healing draughts, some of which the party can lay claim to, at a much reduced price of course.  Brynn is pleased to hear this, as their supply had gotten dangerously low, and while Athena and Genoa both had access to divine healing, it never hurt to carry a backup just in case.  He asks the cleric where he might find the remains, and Athena directs him to locate Tombit.  Seems the little Halfling had taken a shine to the construct… (no pun, no pun!)
Once Tombit is located, at a local eatery, working on his umpteenth pie, it is a simple matter to arrange delivery of the figure to Humphrey.  Tombit is a little disappointed at losing the construct, but when Brynn mentions Humphrey made no mention of keeping it, the monk perks up.  Especially upon realizing that 1) he really couldn’t carry the thing around on adventures, and 2) a wizard crafted item is best kept by wizards, and not silly little Halflings.  “Would cut down on my pie-carrying capacity, anyhoo” he muses.

Satisfied that it was taken care of,  Brynn makes his way back to the Prancing Pony tavern, to clear the *ahem* road dust from his throat.  Inwardly he muses that for a predominately human town, they have some decent brew.  Then again, maybe that was a commonality of the race, not having had much experience with humans in the Valley.  Brynn decides that perhaps he should someday find a larger human city, and discover for himself if they are a race of brewers, much like the dwarves.  His thoughts are interrupted as he arrives at the tavern.  “Too much thinkin’, not enough drinkin’” he says.

Later, his thirst quenched for the nonce, he sets off to the blacksmith, to check on the completion of a commissioned weapon.  There, he finds to his joy that his sword has been crafted, to his exacting standards.  Light in the hand, it nonetheless carries deadly force when swung.  Brynn reaches into his pouch and pays the blacksmith the remainder of the cost owed, plus some for the fine craftsmanship.  “Almost like dwarven” he mumbles, only half aloud.  After all, wouldn’t do to give the man a big head…


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## Softwind (Nov 19, 2003)

*Tam the Tinkerer and the tumultuous toys*

*Thirteen Session (Dec 02) *

The next morning is greeted by the shouts and laughter of children and above the noise, the clamor and clanging of pots and pans hung precariously off the sides of a wagon coming into town.  Pulled by a little pony, and driven by a gnome, the wagon is painted with bright colors, with gadgets and gizmos in evidence everywhere.  The children of Merikest seem to recognize him, as they shout his name, “Tam!” and run up to greet him.  They also ask what he had brought them this year.

Tam does not disappoint the waiting juvenile masses, for when he pulls his pony to a halt in the town square, he opens a door in the wagon wall behind him, and begins pulling out toys, and dolls, and balls, and all sorts of funny things, and hands them out to the anxious kids.  With each one, he mentions the child by name, pats him or her on the head, and hands over the toy.  And without fail, each child’s face lights up, and they thank Tam, before running off to play with their new plaything.

Curious, Tombit wanders over to the wagon.  “Well now,“ says Tam, “You must be new in town, young fellow.  I don’t believe I know your name.”  Tam reaches down, and shakes the Halflings hand.  “Ah, Tombit, I think you’re a wee bit old, but…” Surprised, Tombit doesn’t react as his name is said by the little gnome, and instead waits to see what Tam pulls from the wagon, “this may appeal to you, anyway.” Tam says, with a twinkle in his eye.  He holds out a fur cap, in the form of a coonskin cap, although this one has a cat fur pattern, and ears, and a little cattail.  “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Tombit nods, looking over his new acquisition intently.  He looks up, grins, and thanks the gnome, who takes the thanks modestly.  “You are welcome, good halfling.  Wear it in good health.”  So saying, the gnome turns back to his other “customers”, waiting as patiently as a child can, for their own toys.

To the bemusement of the party, Tombit marches back to them, proudly displaying his hat.  Tombit is taken aback as his friends’ reactions, though, as he places the furry cap on his head.  “What?” he says, or rather, meows.  “Yipe,” he thinks, looking down at himself.  For, rather than seeing the furry feet bequeathed upon him by his parents (good hobbits, both), he sees the paws of a cat.  And his hands held out before him also bear the tabby stripes of a cat.  

“Woohoo!”  Tombit begins to spin in a circle, trying to see if he has a tail or not… and discovers it there, always trailing behind him.  Overjoyed with his new gift, he races back to Tam, to ask what manner of gift this is.  The gnome’s eyes sparkle in the evident glee of the Halfling with his new present.  
“That, good young hobbit, is what I like to call a beastmask.  A minor enchantment I picked up some years ago – you’ll find the cats in this town will take to you like one of their own.  The illusion of a cat is a side effect of the spell.  Now, I’m no great wizard, so you may find that the spell weakens over time.  But, if you are here next year when I return again, I’ll be glad to spruce it up again for you.  Now, begging your pardon, I must be to my duties, as tinker extraordinaire.”

Tam pulls his wagon off the street, near an empty area nearby, and opens up its sides, revealing even more pots, pans, mugs, bowls, utensils, dishes and the like than which covered the outsides.  He also pulls out a miniature anvil, and coal forge, with which to repair damaged cookware.  Seeing that Tam has set up shop, adult townsfolk begin to congregate, some bearing kitchenware, others bearing a hunger for outside events and news of the land. (For, you know, all successful tinkerers are not just handymen, but bards and tellers of tales as well.)

Tombit gambols off in his new guise, to see how well it worked with the alley cats of Merikest.  The rest of his party wanders off as well, to see to their own affairs and needs.  They do not think it odd, when, even after sun had set, Tombit had not returned to the Inn.  “He’s a big Halfling, or rather, kitty, “Athena said, “He can take care of himself. *chuckle*“  The sentiment is echoed by the others around the table. 

In the wee hours of the morning, the Companions hear the sounds of children crying, plaintively asking where their toys have disappeared to.  Rubbing sleep from their eyes, the Companions pull on their gear and step out onto the street to investigate.  They are met with the sight of many children, some still in nightclothes, wandering the streets, occasionally looking in rainbarrels, or under rocks or bushes.  Pulling aside one young half-elf boy, they ask the child, “What is going on?”

Holding back a sniffle, the boy looks to Brynn, and cries, “My drum is gone!  I lay down in bed last night, with my drum right beside me, so I could play with it when I woke up.  But, when I woke up, it was gone.  I looked all over my room, but it wasn’t there!  Please mister, can you help me look for it?”

Disconcerted, Brynn roughly assures the boy that he and the Companions will assist in the search.  This sentiment is strengthened as the other party members hear additional tales of woe from the children.  As they continue to listen to distraught children, a pattern begins to emerge.  Especially when they discover other children still retain possession of their playthings.  From what they can figure, mostly toys that had some effect other than making noise or colored lights were taken.  They track down Tam, to determine exactly what kinds of enchantments he had placed on the toys he had given out.  Tam seems puzzled, but rattles off descriptions of spells he used – a few from several professions, nothing higher than first circle enchantments.  Some items created noise or lights; a lantern with Dancing Lights, or a drum with Ghost sounds. Some were for budding housewives; small sewing kits with Mending, gloves with Prestidigitation, dishware with Create Water, Purify Food and Drink, and Goodberry.  Others were for future woodsmen or rangers; hats with Detect, Calm, or Speak with Animals, sandals with Jump, a toy compass with Know Direction.  But the ones that caught the Companionss attention were those things that in some way modified a person or their environment.  Lesser versions of Bear’s Endurance, Bull’s Strength, and Cat’s Grace embedded within armbands; Chill and Heat Metal in cups and bowls, masks with Disguise Self.  These were the types of items more often being stolen.  

“But, with such minor enchantments, what would be the purpose?” asks a puzzled Athena.
“I don’t know, but perhaps Humphrey would,” Brynn suggests.  Thanking Tam for his help, the party walks to the town library, where the sage Humphrey makes his home.  Ushered inside by a frazzled Lad, the group, very familiar with the layout of the library, heads to the back room.  The old man too looks a little rough around the edges.  Inquiring after his health, the group learns that the sage had spent the previous night in restless slumber.  

“It’s the Ether, it is unsettled,” he states, prodded by the Companions.  “There has arrived, a disturbance, within the town.  I have not felt it’s like in many years; not since my days teaching at the Academy.” He seems lost in thought, then shakes himself and looks back at the gathered party.  “What brings you here to my lab?  Not more Identifying, please, not yet.  I’m not able to concentrate properly.” he asks.

Brynn assures him that their purpose there has nothing to do with Identifying magical items acquired lately.  “Humphrey, we’ve spent the past hours hearing from many of the town children that their toys given them by Tam have been stolen.  From what we have gathered, there is a bit of a pattern emerging, but it still doesn’t make sense.” Brynn continues with what the party had found – most of the toys had some power that would affect the user, and most of the toys stolen were taken from the northern part of town.  No discernable tracks were found near the homes subject to theft, and no other possessions or valuables were taken.  “We’re dealing with a very odd thief.  Not a person was awoken during the night, and coin stashes and silverware remained untouched.” 

“Tam is back in town, you say?  Interesting.  Haven’t seen him in quite some time.  In fact, since I last taught…” he trails off.  “Ah, but that is not important now.  Stolen toys you say? Hmmm.  Have you talked to Tam about it?”  Hearing an affirmative, he continues, “And for the most part, only things that changed the user were taken?  Hmmm.  Let me do some investigations, I’ll send Lad to you when and if I find anything.”

Brynn and the others thank him, and exit the library.  They decide that nothing will be done on an empty stomach, so head to the local tavern for a meal.  Over stew and ale, they discuss what they have learned so far.  Their thoughts keep returning to the puzzle of why anyone would steal toys, but not coin or other valuables.  While finishing their repast, a familiar form of a small halfelven boy comes up to them, a bundle clutched to his chest.  The boy lays the bundle on the much-scarred table, and pulls back cloth to reveal a drum, then steps back, looking at them expectantly.

“Nice drum,” Grimnyr grunts roughly, before being shushed by Athena.  She turns to the boy, “Yes child, what may we do for you?”  The boy looks at her, then to the drum, and back.  “I found my drum, but it doesn’t work anymore.  Since you folks are trying to help, I figured you might know why…”  

“It doesn’t work?” Athena taps the drum, and is rewarded with a *tap, tap* noise. “It seems fine to me…  Could you show me?”

The boy takes back the drum, and taps on it.  “It makes noise, yeah, but yesterday, it would make a rumble noise, like thunder!” His eyes light up, “And if I hit it harder, it would get louder…” His face falls, “Then I had to take it outside, cuz Momma yelled at me for making such a racket.  It got taken last night – I just found it a bit ago, south of town…”

The Companions look at each other.  “May we borrow that, child?” asks Athena gently.  “We will return it, I promise.”   

“Nah, you can keep it.  It’s not so much fun now…” So saying, the boy hands Athena the drum, then skips out the door. “Maybe Tam’ll give me another!” he calls, over his shoulder.  Chuckling, the party turns back to their meal, occasionally tapping the drum, to the annoyance of the rest of the tavern.  Skylar casts Detect Magic on the drum, and detects a faint and weakening aura of illusion magic.  “Whatever it had, it’s gone now,” she quips.  “Kinda like it was dispelled.”  

“Or drained,” says Brynn. ‘Or drained…”


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## Softwind (Nov 24, 2003)

*Culprit found*

*Fourteenth Session (Dec 02)* 

The Companions head across town, over to Tam’s encampment, where the gnome has set up for his stay in Merikest.  Reaching the spot, they wait patiently until the last of the crowds clear, and then approach him with their idea.  Brynn suggests that another toy be used as bait, bearing a similar enchantment as those toys that have been taken already, to which they will add their own, in order to track the object should it be taken.
Tam agrees to the plan, but admits that he has few toys left. In order to not disappoint a child looking for a toy, he asks Tombit for his hat to be held as collateral.  Reluctantly, the Halfling gives Tam his kitty hat, and looks forlorn.  The party comforts him, telling him it is for a good cause, and that they will try to get it back for him later.  Tam hands a ball with a Jump enchantment upon it to Tombit, who cheers up, and with a parting farewell wave to his hat, heads out with the party for phase two of the plan.  
Heading to the library, the party asks that Humphrey cast a spell to allow the toy to be tracked, should it be taken from where it is placed.  The old sage grumbles good-naturedly about “adventurers and their play things” but enchants the toy with “inescapable location”.  (Normally a curse, but in this instance, a very useful spell!)

The party places the ball with the half-elven child that they had met before, with the admonition that he not play with the toy itself.  The boy’s puzzlement turns to glee when he is “let in on” the secret plan to nab the thief.  He winks at Brynn, and gingerly takes the toy into his house, and places it by his bedside.  The party settles in to wait outside, across the street from the boy’s house.

In the wee hours of the next morning, a shadowed figure is spotted leaving the house, moving from shadow to shadow, heading towards the south end of town. Grimnyr, being the only one of the party still awake, thanks to a handy Ring of Sustenance, awakens the group.  Groggy, the party still manages to trail the figure without being spotted.  They quietly argue amongst themselves as they watch their target enter several houses, and emerge again with items in his hands.  Several of the group wants to take the figure immediately, whereas others argue that there may be more in on this bizarre heist, and that it would be better to trail the person until he or she reaches their base of operations.
The “wait and see” faction wins the others over, and they all continue to wait and watch.  Their patience is rewarded when their mysterious stranger enters a house set back on a small cul-de-sac, at the outskirts of town.  The figure does not re-emerge.  Deciding that taking the law into their own hands is not advisable, they send Skylar back to the Sheriff’s office to gain permission to enter the house.

She returns shortly, with a lieutenant in tow.  He is apprised of the situation, and decides to enter the house immediately!  The party scrambles to set themselves up, expecting that whoever can dispel or drain enchantments may have some arcane abilities at hand, and they would rather be prepared.  The lieutenant ignores their concerns, and moves to the front door of the small building.  Finding the door unlocked, he opens the portal and slips inside.  Brynn and Grimnyr follow closely behind, while Athena and Genoa stay behind, watching the windows for movement.  Tombit sneaks behind the house, to access the building from any rear doors.  Skylar makes her way up a neighboring house, to stand on the rooftop overlooking the yard of the suspect’s house.  

Inside the house, darkened by coverings over the windows, Brynn narrowly prevents the officer from stumbling over a pile of toys scattered in the front room.  Dust and rag piles make up the rest of the furnishings.  A door on the other side of the room is closed, presumably leading to the other part of the house.  Curious, Brynn hefts a few of the toys, and determines that they are nothing more than finely crafted, but magically inert, items.  He drops the dolly back upon the floor, lest Grimnyr be tempted to make any comments, and motions the guard towards the door.  The three of them move quietly towards the portal – soundlessly, until the officer, tripping on a loose floorboard, face-plants amid the dirt and rags.  

(continued when I re-create the rest of this episode)


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## Softwind (Nov 25, 2003)

*Toynapper confronted*

*Fourteenth Session (part 2)*

Brynn and Grimnyr freeze, eyes immediately focusing on the doorway, hands held ready over weapons.  A moment passes, then another.  The guard groans, but his outcry is cut short as Grimnyr jams his hand into the guard’s mouth, silencing him.  Brynn looks at the other dwarf in surprise, having seen Grimnyr move across the room quickly but silently.  Grimnyr just smirks.
When the door to the back room in the house doesn’t burst open, the dwarves relax, and Grimnyr lets up the lieutenant.  The human mimes spitting motions after the dwarf’s hand is removed, but keeps the silence, not wishing to push his luck.  As he stands, Brynn and Grimnyr move quietly, to bracket the door.   Silently and slowly, they unsheathe their weapons, holding them at the ready.

Outside, Athena’s patience is wearing thin, and she begins to fidget.  The fact that Genoa seems to have the patience of an oak does nothing to allay her boredom.  When the thump from the tripping lieutenant is heard, she pulls her weapon, body tense as she looks through the partially-covered window into the building’s front room where the dwarves and human are making the noise.  She quickly moves up to one of the windows, then notices Tombit moving around the corner of the house.  She follows, practicing her Ranger skills to remain quiet, until she arrives at the Halfling’s side by the back door.

Tombit holds up a hand indicating Athena is to wait, and presses his ear to the door.  From within, he hears a voice, raising and falling in a chant.  Hoping to interrupt whatever is going on, he takes a moment to jimmy the lock, and opens the door, quietly entering the room beyond.  Athena, her patience gone, and ready for action, is immediately on his heels.  She draws her weapons; mace in one hand, and scimitar in the other, and grins.  Tombit looks at the gnome, and shakes his head, “Oddest cleric I’ve ever met…” he thinks.

Their presence within the room, revealed to be a kitchen, is unnoticed by the cloaked figure standing near a smoldering brazier in the far corner.  The man’s voice continues to rise and fall in no discernable manner, and his arms make passes over the smoke issuing from the heater.  Tombit moves to the door across the room, but before he can reach the handle, it opens on its own accord, burst from its hinges by the dwarves behind it.  
A wordless battlecry issues from both the dwarves lips as they rush through the doorway and into the kitchen.  Tired of waiting, they ripped the latch and hinges off the door by brute force, and rushed the room beyond.  With weapons drawn, they survey the area, noting their surprised colleagues, and the figure in the corner, who takes note of their presence now.  While he turns, he continues the sing-song chant, more frenetic now.

“Oy, none o’ that now,” Grimnyr shouts, fighting to get clear the ruin of the door at his feet.  Brynn, Tombit, and Athena move towards the man, weapons raised and threatening.  “Stop now and you won’t get hurt,” Brynn advises the man, but is ignored.  Tombit takes the matter into his own hands, and tackles the human, but not before the final syllables are uttered.  Athena watches as the brazier, previously smoldering, bursts into full flame.  Amidst the typical orange and yellow flames dance green and blue; not a very good sign, she notes.

Tombit finds his hands full as the man seems to possess greater strength than his frame would account for.  The Halfling finds himself being tossed aside as the cloaked thief stands upright and pulls a weapon from beneath the folds of his clothing.  With the other hand, he tosses a powder upon the flames, causing them to leap towards the ceiling.  He brandishes his weapon as he keeps half an eye on the brazier, waiting for something.

Brynn steps forth, and whips the flat of his blade towards his opponent’s head.  The man barely gets his club up to block the blow, and, snarling, mumbles a few words.  A wave of cold hits Brynn, but passes quickly, the frost melting in the heat of the brazier.  Athena moves forward, trying to flank the mage and put her mace to good use.  Tombit gets to his feet, readying himself for another rush.

Outside, on the neighboring rooftop, Skylar too grows impatient.  Seeing no one emerging from the house, she scales down the wall and moves towards the back door.  Genoa, upon spying that last person outside going in, decides that it would be best for her to enter as well, which she does.
She makes her way past the lieutenant in the front room, who is apparently trying to straighten out his nose, and get some bad taste from his mouth at the same time.  He is oblivious to the scuffle in the back room.  Giving the man an odd look, Genoa continues on to the kitchen.

With a roar and flash of light, a fiery figure appears in the brazier, its form wreathed in multicolor flames.  With its arrival, the mage laughingly mocks the party.  “You are too late!  My companion has arrived, and soon I shall have even more power than before!  All that I have to do is rid myself of you!”  Reaching into his cloak again, the mage shoves a handful of what appears to be toys into the waiting claws of the imp.  “Now, I say!  Do it!”

“Fool,” the imp cries.  “We do not have time for that.  Dispose of these interlopers first.” The toys drop into the bowl of the brazier, where they sizzle, pop and crackle in the heat.  The imp raises its hands in evocation, beginning a spell.  With each mystic pass, the flames grow higher and hotter, causing the room to become stifling in a short time. Grimnyr’s attempt to disrupt the casting fails, as his axe blade goes wide.

Skylar, on the other hand, takes one step into the room, assesses the situation, and drops a shaft right into the chest of the imp.  *thwap*  And she watches as the shaft is charred away, and the imp pulls the head from his chest.  “Hunh” the red creature grunts.  “That’ll cost you, and dearly.”
The flames roar, and launch from the brazier to those in an arc before the imp.  All but the mage and Grimnyr are engulfed in the flames, but are nimble enough to suffer but little from the heat.  The walls of the kitchen are not so lucky, as they begin to char and smolder.

Genoa, having stepped right into the blaze, swings wildly at the mage, and connects with her scimitar.  Hissing, clutching his wounded arm, he retaliates with a club to her head.  She is staggered by the blow, and sits down heavily at the mage’s feet.  The mage does not have an opportunity to follow up on his blow, as both Grimnyr and Brynn take offense at the mage’s handling of the lady.  Brynn serves, and Grimnyr returns the volley as the mage ricochets between their weapons.  Athena adds insult to injury as her mace lands squarely between the mage’s eyes.  He slumps, barely holding onto consciousness.  The hold is loosed, as Skylar hits him with several blunt arrows in a row.

Unfettered by the mage’s incompetence, the imp again begins casting.  The brazier grows orange-hot, and the wooden stand it rests on begins smoking heavily as the imp calls upon the very nature of fire itself to strike down its opponents.  Dancing flames separate from the body of the fire, but return again as Tombit strikes, breaking the concentration of the imp, and the spell is wasted.  Tombit is rewarded for his quick thinking by burns upon his hands and arms from the heat given off by the imp.  Gritting his teeth, he continues to batter at the demonic creature.

Genoa, regaining her senses, summons forth water from the very air itself to dampen the enemy’s spirits, and its platform.  Choking steam and ash flair up as the fire dies beneath the onslaught of water.  Screaming in frustration, the imp tries again to cast, but Brynn’s blade is quicker.  Stopped mid-sentence, another spell fizzles.  That strike is followed by Grimnyr’s axe, and Athena’s scimitar.  Blow after blow rains down upon the creature so that soon, it too is like the fire.  Very much dead.

About this time, the town guard officer emerges from the front room.  Coughing, he demands an accounting.  As soon as the party mentions imp-summoning, the question stops.  “We’ll *cough, cough* continue this at *hack* the Sheriff’s office.  Now, let’s get out of this mess.”  The party can’t agree more, and grabbing the stunned mage, and some of the drained toys for evidence, they follow the lieutenant out of the house and into fresher air.

Once they arrive at the jails, the mage is taken off their hands.  The Companions are told that the mage will be interrogated.  Normally, a thief would see only a beating and jailing, but summoning infernal creatures is very different indeed.  They will be summoned if they are needed to testify before the Sheriff (who acts as judge as well).

The party decides to return to the Dancing Pony to clean up and repair what injuries they sustained.  Genoa only suffered injury to pride, but is satisfied she managed to drown the imp’s spirits at least, if not the imp itself.  A few rounds of ale, and some bathing, later, the party is feeling much better, although the smell of burning toys still lingers on their clothing.  Brynn heads back to the house, and returns with the defunct toys, thinking Tam can re-enchant them for the children.  “Don’t want them to go to waste,” he growls at the smiles of his party members.  “That’s all.”


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## Softwind (Nov 25, 2003)

*Toynapper nabbed*

*Fourteenth Episode (part 3)*

Hours pass before the party becomes curious as to the final results of the interrogation. As a group, they head to the jails to inquire. They are taken aback to find out that the mage has literally lost his mind. As far as the town guard mage is able to ascertain, there was a link between the mage and the imp, and when that tie was sundered by the imps death, so too was the mage’s mind. “What, like a familiar’s death?” asks Athena. “I know that to lose one’s familiar can be a soul-wrenching proposition, like what we encountered with that kobold sorcerer in our home mines, but he seemed able to continue fighting even after we killed his nasty stirge!” She shivers with the memory.
“Erm, no, not quite like a familiar, at least, not as *I* know of them.” The mage strokes the cat resting contentedly on his shoulders. “More like a, ummm, parasite or symbiote relationship.” Noting the party’s blank looks, he continues. “A creature that depends upon another creature, for sustenance or the like. A leech, or the holly vine, for example. In this case, I think the mage may have needed the imp in some fashion to maintain his sanity. With that support gone, so has the mage’s mind departed.”

“Now, having said that, we did find out a little about this person. Mostly with Sage Humphrey’s help. It appears that this man was once a student in the very same school Humphrey taught at. *chuckle* That old man seems to know a bit about everybody around here… even knows Tam from way back. Ahem. Anyway, our prisoner appears to have been kicked out of the school for, and I quote, excessive use of powers for the summoning of extraplaner creatures, the purpose of which to enact agreements for an increase to said powers, end quote.” Waving a leather wrapped missive at the party, he continues, “That’s straight from the records of the school, thanks to Humphrey.”

“What is to become of him now, then?” asks Athena.

“Not entirely sure, to be honest. Most likely he’ll be kept imprisoned for the duration of his insanity. When and if he regains his mind, he’ll be tried for his crimes.” The mage shrugs. “Don’t think that’ll be any time soon though.”

The Companions thank the guard mage, and return to the Prancing Pony. There, they gather up the depleted toys and seek out Tam. The gnome’s smile of joy at seeing the toys is replaced by a rueful grin as he is told of the work that likes ahead him, should he choose to re-enchant the items. The smile returns as the gnome says, “If’n I’ve done it once, I’ve done it twice more. The children here may have to wait a day or more, but we’ll get them set aright again.” As the toys are placed in the bin indicated by the gnome, he reaches behind him and pulls out a floppy hat. Tombit’s eyes alight with joy as he is once again presented with his “cat hat”. The hat is firmly and promptly placed on the Halfling’s head, and he scampers off to “cat about” in the alleyways.

“Hope that don’t end in cat-astrophe,” Grimnyr mumbles. “Whut?” he asks, as the party bursts out laughing. “That Halflin’ gets in more trouble quicker’n water flows down a well.” Grimnyr remains puzzled as the group chuckles over his pun.

“Ain’t funny,” he is heard to complain through the night as the town continues its carnival atmosphere.


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## Softwind (Nov 26, 2003)

*Ghost in the night*

*Fifeteenth Session (Jan 03)*

Grimnyr is hailed by Reg Ty-djarling, the town sheriff, some days later.  With a concerned look on his face, Reg stops the dwarf and asks a favor.  It seems that a local farmer south of the town has encountered something of a disturbance, and would the Companions mind checking it out?  The town’s guards are still understaffed, and it would be a great favor to them if the party can help out.  Inwardly repressing a sigh, Grimnyr agrees to bring it up to the group.  With Reg’s thanks, he continues to the blacksmith, to work out some dings and dents in his armor and weaponry.  

Leaving the blacksmith shop, Grimnyr retraces his steps, grabbing each of his companions as he heads to the Prancing Pony.  Once seated around a much scarred table, laden with foam frothed mugs, he lays out the job for everyone.  As one, the rest of the party agrees to the task.  Cast into the role of adventurer, they are young enough to grow antsy for any length of time spent not active.  They decide to head to the farm the next morning, so they will arrive fresh (and full of beer and pies, think Grimnyr and Tombit respectively).

Brynn and Genoa, still within the forest with their animal companions, deign to stay behind, but will wait only a certain time before following if needed.  The rest of the party hit the trail shortly after dawn the next morning, following directions supplied the night before by a guardsman sent by Reg.  The day looks promising for warmth and clear sky, and the Companions spirits are lifted by the promise of excitement ahead.  It takes several hours of casual walking, with the sun making its usual march across the sky, to reach the area described by Reg; flat cleared fields, bordered by the forest, with fences delineating the various plots of land.  Looking around, they spot a farmer in a field nearby.  They approach casually, hoping that their appearance will not startle the man.  They are taken aback, amused, as the scrawny old human male whips out a crossbow apparently older than even Grimnyr, and points it in their direction

“Hold, there, old man,” Grimnyr puts up his unarmed hands in placation.  “We’re only here to ask some questions about strange disturbances we heard of in town.”

“Eh? Whatzat?” is heard in reply.  “Whatcha doin’ on my prop’ty?  Ain’t no need fer robbin’ here, so’s ya’ll ken jist git!”  The farmer swings the crossbow menacingly, underscoring his words with jabs with its business end towards the Companions.  “We’ve got troubles a plenty alreddy, don’t need no more!”

“Old man, that is why we are here.”  Grimnyr enunciates loudly and in clear tones, hands still up, well away from weapons.  His friends are a little less trusting, their own hands close to hilts and quivers.  The farmer’s eyes peer from underneath his brow, suspiciously.  “WHUT’S why you’re here?” 

Grimnyr sighs.  “The trouble you are having.  We were sent from Merikest to investigate the disturbances.  But we don’t know where they are originating, and need some help.  Could you direct us to someone who knows what is going on?”

Once the farmer is convinced that the Companions mean him no harm, he relents and gives directions to a farm nearby that has been “haunted” several nights now.  No harm is being done, but the livestock is spooked, and the farmer down the road is scared to go out at night now.  Thanking the man, the Companions head further south, off the clear trail and into the forest, following the directions.  On the way, they feel a sudden, passing chill in the air.  As they look for the source, a low moan reaches their ears.  As they stare at the road behind, a pale flickering form can be seen.  At first, the noble visage of a bearded man’s head, twisted in sorrow is seen.  Then it’s the body of a mighty lion, half a score feet long and complete with swishing tail.  Upon its back sprout wings, mightier than any hawk’s, but fashioned the same as that bird of prey’s.  The translucent form twinkles, coalescing into a single, unified being.  “Now you dare the last riddle of Ujaset” moans the voice.

 At first, the figure pays them no mind, pacing and cursing in a language none understands.  But it soon remembers someone is there, and, spying the party, roars and leaps forward.  Surprised, the group can little more than reach for weapons before it is among them.  And there it stops, clearly puzzled.  The figure, its humanoid head topping a winged lion body, stares at each member of the party, intently studying them.  After a moment, it steps back, shaking its head.  “One last riddle.  A puzzle, a conundrum bittersweet.” It is heard to utter, in growled Common.  Other words follow, but in no language known by the party, as it seems to withdraw into reverie.


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## Softwind (Nov 27, 2003)

*Fifteenth Session (Part 2)*

“Um, hello?” asks a timid Athena. “Who are you?”
Snapped out of its daze, the head whips up, again focusing on the party. “Are you smart, then? Do you dare a riddle? ” His voice trailing off, the androsphinx begins to pace again. Stopping, it faces the party, its stenerous voice, loud but frail as a spring breeze, begins to chant:

*“What is half of dragon/but has not a wyrmling’s strength?
What is half a canine/ but has not a mongrel’s length?
What is it that is of two halves/but has but half to stand on?”*

Ujaset looks expectantly at the party, its pained face also tragically anxious as he waits for the answer. After some consultation with the others, Tombit steps forth and announces, “Kobold. Dragon in distant ancestry, canine in voice, walking upright, with none of the strength of its forebears.” 
"Meow", he adds as an afterthought. 

“Excellent. Excellent!” Ujaset’s voice gains in strength, “You are just the sort of clever heroes I was hoping to find this night. As a reward, I offer you the chance to find the place where I laired just nights ago, where I kept on hand my personal horde of treasure. Of course, you must eliminate the disgusting kobolds that evicted me from my home.”

“His lair isn’t the *only* thing he was evicted from,” quips the Halfling.

Ujaset’s head whips around towards Tombit. “Yes, I am dead. Well, mostly dead. I’m a ghost – I think.” Raising a paw to forestall the halfling’s next question, “No, I don’t want to talk about what it is like. Do you want to talk about your short lives? I thought not.”

“Do you mean, er. You were killed, by kobolds?” asks an incredulous Grimnyr.

Ujaset’s head dips, his voice lowers. “Okay, I admit it is humiliating to have been killed by kobolds, but, there were a lot of them, lead by a sorcerer. And the ambush was while I rested from a large meal.” “Sigh, okay, it’s still humiliating, I know. I do not wish to speak more on it.”

Athena steps forward, compassion in her eyes. “We have had dealing with the kobolds, ourselves. We know how tricky they can be. How then can we be of assistance? I am not strong enough in my faith to restore you to this life…”
“I do not ask that of you! Only avenge this insult, and all I have collected is yours.” His head meets Athena’s gaze. “Find my lair, and track down those yipping pests!”

The party erupts with questions. “Where is your lair? Why can you not kill them yourselves? What kind of treasure? Do you know where they came from? Do they rest nearby? Have any pie?” The last, from Tombit, draws stares from the gathered companions. “What”, he asks, innocently. “I’m hungry”

“Grrah. Just follow these directions, and find my killers!” Ujaset rattles off a list of landmarks, and fades away, disappearing like the rapidly setting sun. “Being dead is no reason for being so grumpy!” someone quips, and amid chuckles from the others, the group decides to press on before making camp. Athena puts her new ranger skills to use, and with the help of the wild elf archer Skylar, finds a suitable place for the night some time later.

When morning arrives, the party looks around a bit to gain their bearings, and search for the landmarks described before. The trail leads through the trees, up a grass covered slope, opening into a hillside meadow. Stopping at the edge of the clearing to enjoy the view, the party is startled by a draconic screeching, as something large and scaly swoops down, grasping at Tombit.

Claws gripping the Halfling by the shirt, and flapping leathern wings, the wyvern lifts up into the sky before Tombit’s dangling feet can be grabbed by his friends. Rapidly gaining altitude, the creature’s ascent is slowed by two arrows suddenly appearing in its chest. Taken aback by the pain, the beast releases its hold on Tombit. Much like a cat, the monk lands on his feet, unhurt by the relatively short drop. His companions rush around him, taking a defensive stance, watching the skies uneasily.

Apparently either undeterred by pain, or goaded by hunger, the creature swings around again for another attempt to snatch one of the party members. As it nears, Athena’s scimitar and Grimnyr’s axe cut furrows into the flesh of its wings. Off balance due to the reduction of aerodynamics on the extremities, it wheels off, up the hill, following the edge of the woods. Its indignant cries of frustration and pain are echoed some distance up the grassy knoll. Emerging from an opening in the hill, a second scaled head shows framed against the sky. With a mighty snap of down thrust wings, the second wyvern takes to the air.

Seeking safety and a position of height in the trees, Tombit awaits the arrival of one or the other of the creatures, as his companions wait below. Acting in concert, without really understanding what the Halfling is up to, they herd one of the creatures towards the trees where he crouches. When it draws near enough, he leaps upon its back, dagger bared, ready to plunge it into the creature’s back.

Skylar continues to fire her deadly missiles with good effect into the other opponent, while Grimnyr and Athena struggle to connect with their weapons on their airborne foes. The wyverns proceed to drop rocks on them, causing some injuries, but not without having more wounds appear on themselves from the retributive strikes of the gnome and dwarf. Plunging his dagger over and again into the creatures back soon coats the Halfling with spilled blood, as his “mount” tries in vain to shake him. With grim determination, and the occasional exuberant “Wahoo”, Tombit literally rides the beast into the ground, tumbling off the corpse as it hits the ground, already lifeless. The other, upon seeing this, goes into frenzy, diving at the party repeatedly, until it too succumbs from the wounds. 

Sore from falling rocks and claw scrapes, bleeding a bit from numerous small wounds, the Companions seat themselves under the cover of the trees as Athena plies her healing abilities. In a few minutes, whole once more, they move up the hill, towards the lair of the wyverns. Sending Tombit in ahead to check for others that might still be within, they are relieved to find that only the two were dwelling here. Amidst the gnawed bones and rotting remains, the Halfling discovers a few trinkets left behind by previous victims, including a silver pendant depicting a perforated shield. Storing it away for later study, Tombit emerges from the hole and rejoins his friends. Athena points further up the hill, to a rocky outcropping near the crest. “That looks like what Ujaset described as his lair” she tells the others.


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## Softwind (Nov 28, 2003)

*Fifteenth Session (Part 3)*


As one, they move up the slope, carefully watching for signs of kobold activity or other movement. Athena soon realizes that if anyone was nearby, the battle with the wyverns would have announced the party’s presence in the area. Informing her friends of this fact, they hurry their pace, eager to reach their goal. In the dirt at the stone entrance to the lair, Athena spots the signs of numerous clawed feet. 

Cautious again, the party selects Tombit as the point man again. Quietly, the diminutive monk works his way inside the den. The smell of putrescence fills his nostrils the further in he goes. The light from outside dimly illuminates the walls of the cave, opening out from the entrance until the monk stands in a chamber 20 paces wide, and more than double that deep. In a far corner rests the mortal remains of the Androsphinx, the origin of the stench. After looking around and seeing nothing to alarm him, Tombit returns to the entrance and motions for the rest of the group to enter. He also takes an opportunity to gulp fresher air outside.

The group fans out once past the entrance, again, watchful of hidden opponents. It is Skylar that spots the small form huddled in the sphinx’s shadow. Quickly drawing bow, and placing arrow to string, she calls out to the rest of the party, “We’ve got something here, near the body.” She gestures with the tip of her nocked arrow, towards the rotting bulk. Alerted, the rest of the party readies their weapon, and spreads out, to surround the corpse, and whatever lingers nearby.

The small figure tries to hunch down further, small cries of panic coming from it. When everyone is in place, Grimnyr shouts, “Stand n show yerself! No purpose in hiding now, we know yer there!” He brandishes his axe to emphasize his point. Slowly, the hidden figure stands up. The dim light reveals the form of a scrawny kobold, who, eyes wide, tries to bolt towards the opening, only to meet bared blade blocking his retreat. 

With a startled yip, the creature jumps back, its muzzle swinging back and forth, looking for escape. The party closes in, cutting off all avenues, making sure that the creature would not elude them. Realizing it is trapped, the kobold hunkers down, wrapping its arms about its scaly knees. After some fits and starts, the party is able to question the creature, much to Grimnyr’s disgust. But even he sees the sense in finding out where the rest of the kobolds are, how many there are, and if they are coming back.

The cowering creature before them is Jaalask, the youngest and smallest of the tribe. He fell asleep after gorging himself on the corpse, and was left behind by the rest of the band when they were last there. He was waiting for the “hurtful” sun to set when he heard the adventurers approaching, so he hid. He puffs up his chest when he describes his tribe, the Blackspears. “We are the strongest tribe around. We’re strong! Even the orcs around here fear us! And, uh, we’re tough too… and, we have Oppol. He got’s the best mojo in the land. He blasts the other tribes to bits, and we don’t have to fight them – not that we couldn’t!”

When pressed to reveal where his tribe is camped by drawn blades, Jaalask reluctantly tells the Companions that the Blackspear warband is camped a few miles away. He begs for his life, and is granted leniency, but only if he leads the party to the camp. Seeking to save his own hide, he agrees.

The party searches the cave, but finds nothing of worth left behind. Even the half spear Jaalask bears is worth little to them. They decide to head out before the sun sets, to the dismay of their kobold prisoner. Without recourse, however, he takes the lead, closely followed by Grimnyr and his axe, taking the party to the southeast. A few miles later, Jaalask stops moving. Questioned, he motions further into the forest. “The tribe is there. Unless I leave now, my tribe will kill me, for having lead you here.” The party agrees, bound by their promise to the creature. They add one more promise before he is let loose; “If this is a trick, we promise you will not live to regret your actions.”

Once the kobold is out of sight, the party sneaks forward, through the covering of the trees. It does not take long to discover Jaalask had not steered them wrong. In a rough clearing ahead, Skylar and Genoa spot several kobolds. Weapons ready, the party leaps into the midst of the camp, shouting for the creatures to surrender. 

The response is predictable. The kobolds grab javelins, half-spears, and some small crossbows, but, “mighty” or not, they quickly fall beneath the Companions blades and arrows. A little surprised at the ease of combat, the Companions realize that not once did they face any magic. Oppol was not there! After looting the remains, and discovering far less than expected, Athena and Skylar scout the area, looking for tracks not belonging to any of the fallen. The only prints that stand out appear to be of a gnome or dwarf boot-shod foot. The party decides to follow these prints.

As night falls, the party realizes they are heading back towards Merikest. They continue on through the night, traveling by moonlight, moving slowly so as to not lose the trail. Eventually, as they reach the outskirts of Merikest, the trail is lost due to daily traffic on the road. Before entering the town, the party discusses their options. Not knowing who or what they are looking for, they head back to the location where they had first encountered Ujaset.
In the early morning, having moved quickly all night, they again stand near the field where this quest first began. 

As half-expected, the shimmering form of the sphinx reappears, but they are dismayed to see that an expression of anger covers the creature’s bearded face. “You disappoint me, and have failed the charge given you. A sorcerer slew me, and a sorcerer’s blood you have not on your hands!” Ujaset becomes mollified when the group tells him that they have not abandoned the quest, but need more information about the target. They have a name, but have no idea what the creature will look like. Ujaset just looks at them. 
“As I was asleep when my death befell, how would I give you such information?” He shakes his head, and slowly fades away. “Seek out what you can, based on the name you hold. I await my vengeance.”

The Companions look at each other. “Let’s go back to town, see if Brynn and Genoa can help in the search. Besides which, I’m rather beat.” Athena says. The other three agree, thinking of baths, food, beds, and drink, although not necessarily in that order. 

The trip back to town is slower, as the events of the past hours catch up with them. They straggle into Merikest just as the town seems to be coming to life. People on the street wisely stay out of the way of the foursome as they make their way to the Prancing Pony. The wait staff is hard-pressed to keep up with demands for both baths and ale to be poured and food to be brought upstairs. Their grumbles are soon silenced by the party’s generosity, being too tired to brook argument. 

Several hours pass, and they are much comforted, with full bellies, clean bodies, and some sleep under their eyelids. They await the return of Brynn and Genoa in the main room, nursing mugs to pass the time.


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## Softwind (Nov 29, 2003)

*The hunt for Oppol*

*Sixteenth Session (Jan 03)* 

The wait is not long until the remainder of the party arrives.  The four wait patiently as the ranger and druid clean up and settle down with drinks of their own.  They listen while the two tell of their past days’ occurrences, and then proceed to fill them in with details of the quest they have been given by Ujaset.  The party decides to ask around in town, to see if anyone has seen or heard of a gnome or dwarf going by the name of Oppol or something similar.
Athena has limited success with a gnomish leather merchant.  Seems as though there was one “gentleman”, to use the term loosely, of the gnomish race persuasion, who was looking for materials for armor.  He was very curt, not at all friendly, and left disgusted that the merchant did not have the quantities necessary for over a dozen small suits of leather.  The merchant didn’t catch a name, but remembered him well enough to give Athena a good description.

Brynn finds another lead from a local blacksmith.  An ill-mannered gnome, going by the name of Opal or Uppall or something similar had placed a large order from masterwork spearheads and short swords.   The gnome had prepaid, and requested that when completed, the items be delivered to a rented house outside of town.  

The rest of the party had similar luck.  A gnome, foul of temper, had been spreading coin about the town, stockpiling food and gear, all to be delivered to a home on the outskirts of town.  Most of the party is told that they “just missed him” when they ask.  Regrouping, the Companions decide that based on the corroborating evidence, this mysterious “gnome” has got to be the sorcerer they are looking for, perhaps under some kind of disguise or illusion magic.  

Gearing up, they head to the south of town, to the address given them by several different merchants.  Along the way, Genoa and Brynn call their animal companions to their sides.  They feel it would be good to be as prepared as possible.  If this sorcerer could lay low a sphinx, the party was best on their toes.  

Soon, they find themselves in a nicer area, with several story homes and gated yards.  At first disoriented by the surroundings, they gain their bearing and locate the home spoken of in town.  Two stories tall, with lap siding and oiled parchment windows (okay, so no *all* that fancy).  The houses to either side appear to also be available for rent, and currently untenanted.  Those across the street contain curious folk, who retreat back into their homes when faced by two dwarves, their large animal companions, a gnome, an elf, and a Halfling that on occasion, looks like an animal.  (Tombit amused himself by removing and replacing his “cat hat” several times in front of the neighbors).


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## Softwind (Nov 29, 2003)

*Sixteenth Session (Part 2)*

With witnesses safely ensconced behind window curtains and closed doors, the party decides that a frontal approach is best in this situation. Tombit takes one window, Brynn and Athena the door, and Genoa and Grimnyr the other window. Skylar stays in the street, her bow ready, arrow nocked, watching the windows on the second story for movement. Tombit pulls his dagger out, and carefully makes a small incision in the oiled parchment covering the window opening.

*FOOM*

The small Halfling finds himself wreathed in flame and heat, the flames dancing merrily in a halo about him. Supressing a shout of pain and surprise, he rolls on the ground to douse the flames. Startled, the dwarves by the other window try to abort their own window cutting, but to no avail.

*SHOOOF*

A sudden cold front moves in on their position, riming them with frost. Chattering from the chill, they step back away from the window, as Athena is torn between helping them and helping the toasted Tombit. Knowing his predilection towards injury, she decides the dwarves can wait as she lays healing hands upon the Halfling, currently meowing piteously and patting at still-smoldering patches of fur and cloth. 

Figuring that their attempt at stealth is now moot, Brynn applies his shoulder to the door, bracing himself for a surprise of his own. And surprised he is as the door gives way and he finds himself in the house, unscathed. Athena, finished with tending Tombit, quickly follows. Straight ahead of them are stairs leading to the second floor. To the right and left are rooms, currently empty of furniture, but storing several bags and boxes. Leaving those for later, the pair splits up to investigate the rest of the lower floor.

Skylar, hoping to preemptively disable further traps, fires into the upper story windows. Cascades of small stones erupt from one, while the other drops a green fluid which etches the windowsill and falls hissing to the ground below. “Impressive,” she murmurs. Having seen no movement at either upper floor window, she moves to the side of the house, then the rear, seeking further openings in the building’s façade.

Discovering that the ground level floor of the house is uninhabited, Brynn, Karazak, his cougar companion, Genoa and her Timber wolf companion (named Timber, of all things) move up the cramped quarters of the stairway, to the upper landing. Only once they all stand there, crowded together, do they realize the prime potential of an ambush. Thankfully, the house seems quiet.

Tombit daringly leaps through the bottom window and tumbles to his feet inside the front room, arms upraised as if in expectation of cheers. His arms drop to his side, and he slumps a little when the applause doesn’t come. Sheepishly, he moves up the stairs where the ranger and druid await. 

To clear the way for the rest of the party, Genoa and Timber open a door on the left of the hallway, and move inside the room. Here there is more to catch their attention, including a number of pelts upon the floor. Most appear fresh. Curious, the druid begins to pull up the furs, peering underneath each. Timber joins her at her side, poking his nose into each and every one as it is pulled up. When the last one is lifted, they are both surprised by the gout of acid sprayed into their faces. Yipping, they both leap back, trying to brush or wipe away the stinging fluid. The corrosive liquid continues to burn, and soon the room is filled with its sizzle and an acrid stench.

Unable to save the pelts, the two rapidly emerge from the room, and shut the door, only to meet the surprised gaze of Brynn. Embarrassed, they try to hide the angry red pockmarks on their face and limbs. Both bear sheepish grins. Shaking his head and sighing, the ranger motions for quiet and points to the last door on the second floor to remain closed. Not knowing if the tenant is there, or if he is, if he is lying in wait for the party, they wait for the rest of the Companions to arrive upstairs.

Athena, Grimnyr, and Tombit join the other two, while Skylar remains outside, watching the windows. She notices a light in one room, quickly extinguished, but agonizes whether she should shout a warning to those inside, or just hope that they will catch by surprise whoever is in that room. She decides to let her arrows do the talking, and launches several at the window.

They pierce the covering with a *Woof* of flame, which quickly burns away the remainder of the parchment. The light is not evident again, and Skylar hopes that her action was a wise one as she waits.


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## Softwind (Dec 3, 2003)

*Sixteenth Session (Part 3)*

Hearing the flames, the party decides to rush the room, throwing all caution to the wind.  It is their hope that by being quick in action, they will overcome any resistance thrown their way by the sorcerer, if he is within.  Bursting down the door, the Companions pile into the room.  Brynn and Karazak remain near the door, Genoa and Timber move to the far side, Tombit tumbles in, near the simple cot in the corner opposite to the door, and Athena stands in the doorway, watchful.  Grimnyr finds himself outside the room, and waits there, grumbling.
The room beyond has the appearance of a basic bedroom, with comforters upon the cot in the corner, a simple vase near the back window, plus a table and chair resting under the front window, with fresh scarring upon both the table top and the chair backing.   Seeing no immediate threat, the party relaxes a bit, scanning the room.  Skylar’s voice rises from the ground below, “There is someone or something in there with you.  I saw a light, but it’s gone now.  Be careful!”

Heeding her advice, the Companions ready themselves, still looking vigilantly about them.  Athena works to make herself “bigger” in the doorway, on the off chance something tries to sneak past her.  Brynn tries to instruct Karazak to “sniff out” anyone else in the room, but the big cat thinks the Ranger wants to play.  Genoa tries the same with her companion, with much the same result.  Tombit decides that the best place in the room to hide would be on or near the bed, so proceeds to try and “feel out” anyone there.  

And it seems his plan is with merit, as he hears movement heading towards the front window.  He backs away from the bed, then leaps at where he thinks the person is who is making the noise.  *THUD*  Tombit’s monk training takes over at the last moment, and he does not go head on into the wall.  However, his leading shoulder aches with the hit.  The noises continue to advance towards the window, and now Genoa can hear them as well.  It sounds like cautious footfalls.  Genoa readies herself for action, but is puzzled by Timber’s lack of response.

“Someone here is invisible,” she thinks, but wonders why Timber can not at least smell the person moving towards them.  “Perhaps that trap in the other room put him off the scent,” she ponders, testing the air in front of her with the blade of her scimitar.  The attack, when it comes, is expected, although the direction is not.  A small figure on top of the cot in the corner waves its arms, and suddenly Tombit, Genoa and Timber are battered by a wave of intense cold.  Due to the table in front of her and Timber, the druid and wolf take less than the full brunt of the attack, and Tombit’s nimbleness removes him from harms way as well, but not in an expected way.

Alerted to the location of the opposition, Brynn sends in Karazak to worry at the kobold now revealed.  The diminutive humanoid begins another series of mystic passes in preperation for another spell.  His chant is disrupted by an arrow coming in from the window, which strikes the sorcerer in the side.  “Did I get him,” Skylar’s voice floats in through the broken back window.


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## Softwind (Dec 3, 2003)

*Sixteenth Session (Part 4)*

“Uh, yeah. Urm, nice shot,” yells out Brynn. “Could you please not do that again?”

There is no answer as Karazak, acting on his orders, mauls the kobold. After latching on with front paws and teeth, the cougar leaps up and rakes his back claws against the creature entrapped. Something other than its hide must have been keeping it alive, but just barely, as the cougars natural weapons find their mark several times over. Bleeding profusely, the kobold continues to struggle to cast, muffled somewhat by 500 pounds of cougar flesh above him. He succeeds, and several arcane projectiles find their target in the beast that holds him down. Karazak screams in anger and pain.

Genoa discovers that there is not room enough for Timber to help, and her own attacks will have the same chance to hit Karazak as they would the kobold. She holds back her attack, waiting for an opportunity to strike out. She is denied that chance as Brynn strides forward, and sliding his blade past his animal companion, ends the miserable little kobold’s life. He then immediately turns to Karazak, checking the severity of his friend’s wounds. 

Athena’s tender healing hands are right there besides his own, and within a mere moment, the only trace of injury is the slight scorching of the cat’s fur. The gnome then turns to Genoa and Timber, to find that the Druid has enacted her own healing upon herself and her companion.

Athena glances around. “Where’s Tombit?” she wonders aloud. Grimnyr just points a thumb towards the front window.

“Mmmph,” comes the reply from the stairwell. A sheepish Tombit emerges on the top step. “I was a little too energetic in my dodge. Went right out the window. But, I meant to do that.” He says earnestly, as Athena expresses concern. “All part of the training, you see. Yeah, that’s it. Training. Hoo-hah!” he says, taking on a martial stance.

This statement is met with barely concealed mirth, and as one, the Companions set out checking the room for items of worth, or clues to the kobold’s plans. Based on the receipts found, and the amount of cash at hand, the party gets a fair idea of what was going on. Especially when the group recounts to one another the shopping that was done by Oppol.

“He was getting ready to arm his tribe,” states Brynn. “Feed and armor them too,” pipes in Grimnyr. The Companions claim anything they find that they can directly link to the Kobold, as they feel as their due. Since the house appears to be a rental, they leave behind furnishings, and some of the coin as a deposit for the damage caused.

As they are exiting the house, a group of militia arrive, clearly alerted by the neighbors. Their weapons are bared until they recognize the party. Even so, the guards’ hands remain near their sheathed weapons as their leader inquires what has occurred there.

Brynn, being the leader of the group, calmly discusses the situation with the commander. After listening for a while, the commander insists that the party follow him back to the Sherriff’s office. He instructs several men to remain behind, and allow no one to enter the building until relieved. Clearly not liking this order, the men still dutifully obey, and take up guard positions at the front and rear of the home. The rest of the guards escort the party to Reg’s office in town.

Brynn once again explains what occurred, this time to a troubled Sheriff. “While I appreciate your efforts in keeping the peace, and in tracking down and stopping what could have been a nasty situation down the road, you must realize you place me in a very bad position.” Reg sighs, his frown creased Elvin face deeply troubled. “I ask that you go back to your inn and rest. I’ll send a man to you if you are needed for additional statements. Please, go now.” And with that, they are dismissed.

“Well, gee, that wasn’t what I expected,” says a disgruntled Skylar. “He could have at least said, Thanks! Or something.” The Companions echo her sentiment, although Brynn does see things from the Sheriff’s point of view. They discuss the merits of the viewpoint while they make their way back to the Prancing Pony. The animal companions take this opportunity to move back out of town and into the surrounding forest, to wait again for their friends.


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## Softwind (Dec 3, 2003)

*Bad Judgement*

*Sixteenth Session (Part 5, final)*

The next morning, a guardsman accompanies the party back to the Sheriff’s office.  There, they find a very harried looking Reg talking with two men.  One apparently holds office within the town, dressed in official-looking robes, and the other appears finely dressed in apparel fit for wealthy gentry.  Reg looks up as the party enters.  “Ah, come in, come in.  I was just discussing the matter of your actions yesterday in the townhouse south of town.”
“Fredrich here is the owner and landlord of that building,” Reg says, pointing out the man in the gentry outfit, “and Cierian is one of Merikest’s judges,” indicating the man in robes.

Fredrich distains the outheld hands of the party, instead directing his remarks to the Sheriff and judge.  “I demand compensation for damages done to my property.  It’ll take the crew weeks to clean that mess up!”  Amid placating remarks from the men that the matter will be taken care of, he storms out from the room, leaving a startled party and a resigned Sheriff and judge.

“I had hoped it would not come to this, but…. Well, you heard the man.  Even after I explained that it was being done for the town’s safety, he still demands money for the repair of the house. I know, I know…” Reg holds up a placating hand when the party begins to protest, “You were doing what comes naturally to you, and believe me, we appreciate what you have done here.  But, well… Fred lives here, and I have to deal with him on a daily basis.  Listen, there has to be a hearing, Cierian will be presiding.  It’s a formality, but one we must observe.  Please be here at nine sharp tomorrow morning.  I trust I will see you there?”

With affirmatives, some grudging, Reg sees the party to the door.  “I’m sorry friends, I truly am.  It’s out of my hands though…”

The next morning, the Companions are lead through a farce of a trial.  Even in the face of the evidence of a plot to build up and strengthen the kobold presence in the area, and the potential destructiveness of such a force, AND the evidence that the Companions were really only defending themselves from Fredrich’s tenant, the judgment goes against them.  The Companions are forced to pay 2500 gold pieces in damages, and are instructed to report to the Sheriff their whereabouts when in town.

“Outrageous,” seethes Grimnyr.  “We oughta abandon the lot of em tae thems that’s out in the woods.  Er, if’n there was anything out there left…” he finishes weakly.  Some of the Companions echo his sentiment, while Athena wonders how the town’s admiration of them went sour so fast.

“It’s not us, Athena,” Brynn says.  ”It’s what we represent.  And the fact that trouble just seems to follow us.  Perhaps it’s best that we move on from here anyway.  We’ll pay the fees using the merchandise already purchased by Oppol.  We have the receipts, so there shouldn’t be any hassle.  Then we can find another place to continue our search for home.”


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## Softwind (Dec 10, 2003)

*Leaving Merikest, onward to adventure!*

*Seventeenth Session (Jan 03)* 

The Companions spend the next few days tying up loose ends, informing Ujaset of his vengeance (and receiving a final parting gift – a nice suit of elven chain for Skylar), finalizing purchases, paying the fine levied against them, and wondering where the next days will see them.  And while no one in town mentions it, there is a general air of discomfort around the party.

On the day they decide to leave, a messenger by the name of Guy arrives and hands Brynn a request for audience at the Miners and Merchants Guildhall, Merikest branch.  Curious as to what the guildleader would want of them, the party wastes no time in heading to the hall.  They are quickly ushered into the office of Harncar, regional guildmaster.

“I have heard of your situation here, and your desire to journey elsewhere.  Perhaps I can be of assistance to you in directing your steps, and you can return the favor by investigating a, shall we say, difficulty my Guild has encountered?” the old human behind the desk says, after greetings are exchanged.  “I assure you, you will be well compensated”.

“What manner of, difficulty, is your Guild having, Master Harncar?” Athena asks politely.

“Financial, actually.  Or rather, loss of income.  We have lost contact with one of our most productive mines north of here.  We have not heard from the miners in some time, or of the follow-up bands of dwarven scouts and warriors.  Even another band of adventurers were sent in, and not heard from since.  Based on what I have heard of in regards to your actions here in Merikest, I believe you may be the right group for the job, to discover and, hopefully, rectify the issue at hand.”  The old man looks hopefully at the party.  “What say you?”

Brynn steps forward.  “We will have to discuss this amongst ourselves, and learn more of the specifics before deciding.  A moment, please.”  The Companions discuss the offer, and in moments, come to a unanimous decision to take the job.  It solves numerous difficulties at once – knowing where to go, what to do, and exposes them to more of the world.  Perhaps providing further clues to the whereabouts of their home valley as well.

“We’ll take your offer,” Brynn tells Harncar.

“Excellent!  My messenger, Guy, will make all the arrangements.  Good day to you all, then.”  

“Abrupt, is he not?” the messenger asks the party, as they are lead out of the Guildmaster’s office.  “Not to worry, he is always like that.  Now, let’s make preparations to get you on the way, shall we?”

“Wait jus’ a minite! How much is this’n gonna pay us?” asks Grimnyr, cutting to the quick.

“Er, the payment for services is 250 gold, per person.” Guy stammers, taken off guard.

After dickering, the party is given half of the fee up front, to finish paying for purchases in town, and to lay in supplies for the trip north.  They return to the Guildhall to see Guy has acquired a wagon with a team of horses, to carry the party and their gear to the Silverhall Mines, which Guy describes as they travel.

The trip takes several days, and the party learns more of the situation within the mines.  Silverhall Mines has been providing silver and gold to the Guild of Miners and Merchants in Everlund for decades.  Every month, a caravan loaded with processed ore arrives at Everlund, where it is readied for sale.  Recently however, the monthly shipments have stopped arriving.  A band of dwarvish scouts were sent to the mines when the first shipment was missed.  When they had not returned after a second shipment came due, a group of dwarven warriors were dispatched.  Again, no word came out of the mines.  Desperate, the Guild looked outside itself for assistance, and a group of adventurers were hired to determine the cause, and find a solution if possible.  They too have not reported back to the Guild.  The leadership was getting desperate, and rapidly losing valuable income.  

“And here is where the Companions of the Valley come in.  (“That is your company name, right?” He whispers to Brynn.  At the dwarf’s shrug, he continues) “With your help, I’m confident you can discover exactly what is going on in there.  The Guild cannot afford to keep sending in people, and not resolving the issue…” Guy looks worried.

The party arrives at the entrance to the mines, at the base of the Nether Mountains.  A chill wind belies the warmth of summer below, and the party bustles about the wagon, gathering gear, tightening cinches on backpacks, and gripping weapon handles tightly.  The mountain seems to rear up before them, the mine opening like a mouth, ready to devour them.  Not a few shiver, although from the wind, or something else, is hard to determine.  They bid the messenger a good journey back to town, free up the horses to be left for them, and make a temporary corral for them in the mine scree and tailings.  

“Enough grass grows around here, and that water seeping off the mountain side should keep them free of thirst.  My only concern is of anything that may be wandering the woods that would find them tasty…” Genoa says.

“Not much hope for it.  I’m sure they can take care of themselves.  We’ll try not to stay in the mines too long, and check on em frequently.  Best we can do.”  Brynn tries to assure her.

“Bah, don’t need them horses nohow,” Grimnyr grumps, his backside twinging in remembered pain of previous journeys taken on horseback.  “Either they’re here when we get back, or they ain’t.”  At Genoa’s scathing look, Grimnyr finishes weakly, “But, we ken check on em from time ta time, I’m sure.”

Brynn looks to the sky, checking the wind and amount of daylight left.  “We can make camp here now, and tackle the mine in the morning, or we can head in now.  Day or night, don’t matter in there.”  He looks to the party.  They decide that they are not tired, but itching for action after the several days of bumpy, spine-jarring travel in the Guild wagon.  Checking their gear again, they continue up the hill, towards the mine opening.  The path leading from the mine has been paved with stones taken from the mountain itself, finely placed, an example of dwarven stonework.  The twin grooves worn into the granite attest to the generations of wagons that have traveled the road.

The Companions pass through the mine opening, and descend a ramp leading downward into a large cavern, most likely natural, with subtle improvements made by the dwarven miners.  Recent seismic activity is apparent in the piles of rubble strewn about the large underground room, and the remains of a miner’s shack is buried from a recent fall.  The remains of a dwarf, dead some time, lay within the rubble.  Grimnyr says a few words over the fallen, but does nothing with the remains, figuring his clan will soon be able to return to properly bury him or her.

The shack’s twin, on the other side of the entrance is untouched, and the party quickly makes use of the barrels of oil and lanterns found within.  Rope and pitons are also added to their gear, in case of need.  The other tools – picks, shovels, rakes – are left behind, but their presence noted.  

On the far side of the chamber, the passageway continues, with enough headroom for the non-elves in the party.  Skylar, however, does not much care for the cramped quarters.   She has to constantly duck to avoid the low ceilings as they go deeper into the mines.  Her shorter companions barely succeed in hiding their mirth, as a series of *thump*, *OW!  %&#%&* is heard.  “Plenty o’ room ta swing me axe,” Grimnyr chimes in, his mood improved by the solid stone surrounding him, and his tall Elvin friend’s predicament.  “Grrr,” is the only response.


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## Softwind (Dec 13, 2003)

*Enemy mine*

*Eighteenth Session (Feb 03)* 

The mines show signs of extensive work, over the course of many years.  However, there are no signs of recent activity, save for numerous booted feet of varying sizes crisscrossing the chambers.  The party takes note of several mechanical contraptions placed over vertical shafts throughout the mine – upon further investigations, they determine that the devices are elevators, complete with iron cages, winches, and hand cranks for their operation.  They decide to scout the rest of the upper level before descending deeper, looking for clues as to what has happened to the previous workers and rescue crews.

Brynn, scouting ahead of the group, is the first to discover a possible answer to their questions, as he is plunged into darkness abruptly; darkness that even his dwarven eyes cannot penetrate.  “’Ware!” he shouts to the group, as the sound of chitinous clattering can be heard emanating from an unfinished tunnel to their right.

The party fans out, weapons at the ready, eyes and ears straining for any sign of their attackers.  The noise from the passageway stops, and the pitch blackness at its mouth that covers Brynn does not allow for vision past it.  The Companions wait, anxiously, for the enemy to present itself.  
Brynn’s shout of mixed pain and anger spurs them to action, and they charge into the darkness.  Grimnyr swings wildly at what he believes to be his opponent, just barely holding his attack in check with Brynn’s indignant yell.  Genoa has more success, as she casts a spell to grant her blindsight.  While she does not “see” the creatures attacking, she senses the vibrations in the air, and directs the rest of the party to their location.

Athena, practiced in healing under difficult conditions, and trained in rangerly combat arts, is able to locate one of the creatures, and deals a fair amount of damage with dual scimitar and mace.  Skylar does what she knows to do, and shafts disappear into the darkness, striking almost unerringly into the carapaces of her target.  Somehow, she manages to not skewer her companions while doing so.

Thinking to bring the fight out of the darkness, Brynn and Grimnyr separate and move away, hoping to draw the creatures out where they can be seen.  Unfortunately, the darkness does not seem to hinder their opponents, and they feel several blows and near misses as they move.  Athena takes advantage of the distraction to again strike out at her target.  Genoa too wields her scimitar to good effect, crippling the creature before her.

Brynn throws caution to the wind, and steps back into the darkness, swinging wildly, but with precision, as he lops off several limbs reaching for him.  For his effort, he is bitten several times, but shakes off the pain, focused on dealing out more destruction.  He is aided by Grimnyr, who uses his dwarven battle axe to good effect, and manages to kill one of their opponents.

Abruptly, the darkness ends, and the Companions are finally able to see what they face.  They are taken aback by the monstrosities before them – large insectoid monsters, with glossy black carapaces and cruel mandibles, resembling a strange hybrid of ant and scorpion, including the tail with lethal stinger.  The group only pauses for a moment before stepping up their attacks, taking advantage of the ability to see their opponents.

The remainder of the battle is short.  Shorn of their inky black concealment, the creatures quickly fall before the combined attacks of the Companions.  They consider themselves lucky to not have been hit by the stingers eminently visible on now-stilled tails.  Athena and Genoa tend to what injuries were sustained, and the group continues their investigations; now with the knowledge of what may have happened to the miners within the Silverhall mine.  This supposition is strengthened by the discovery of abandoned mining equipment – picks, shovels, and lanterns, all damaged and broken, seemingly used in defense, but to no avail.  No bodies remain, dwarven or insectile, at the battle site.

Having explored the first level completely without further incident, the group decides to use the elevators previously discovered to descend to the next level, to continue their search.


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## Softwind (Dec 15, 2003)

*Retreat into danger*

*Nineteeth Session (Mar 03)* 

The Companions discover that the iron cages that comprise the lift platform of the elevator were never designed for more than a few dwarves at a time, or more than a dwarf and an ore cart.  Several trips would be necessary to drop lower into the mines.  They decide that each cage-load will have some heavier folks riding down with the smaller, lighter party members.  Grimnyr, Skylar, and Genoa on one trip,  Brynn, Tombit and Athena on the next.  Even so, the hand-crank occasionally gets out of control, and the party finds them selves dropping at a faster rate than anticipated.  Mostly unhurt, they survey the remains of the wrecked elevator cage.  “Not going up that way again” Grimnyr states matter-of-factly.  “Even if we wanted to, not enough room ta get past the wreckage”.  

True or not, his words are belied by the appearance of another of the creature, as it skitters across the ceiling from the elevator shaft, rapidly advancing on the party.  Skylar manages to unsling her bow, and hits with several arrows, before the whole area is plunged into darkness.

“A dwarf could get tired o’ this,” Grimnyr grunts, as he pulls his battleaxe from his shoulder.  “Let’s do it, shall we?”

The battle is brief, the party having learned from the previous encounter, and the single opponent soon lies dead at the Companions’ feet.  It had scored a tail-strike on Grimnyr, unnoticed by the party, but the stout dwarf makes no mention of the weakness coursing through his veins, sure that his dwarven heritage will fix it soon enough.  This was information that the party could have used, in a later encounter.

Brynn leads the Companions eastward, towards a cavern seen dimly in the lantern-light, held by Genoa.  That same lantern is put out, as wet, tearing sounds are heard ahead.  The party creeps forward, trying to be as quiet as possible.  The scene revealed in the opening ahead confirms their suspicions.  The half-eaten bodies of several dwarven warriors lay scattered before them, their deadly white faces (what is left of them) frozen in masks of pain and horror.  Their armor, mostly chain, is twisted and shattered, deep gouges ripped from the flesh beneath.  Several shields nearby show claw marks; deeply scored and scratched.  Beneath the bodies is a dark brown stain, the remnant of their life’s blood.  It becomes apparent that they died completely surprised, as many weapons were still in their sheaths, or slung across their backs.  There is no sign of whatever caused the sounds previously heard.

Still cautious, with weapons drawn, the party moves to examine the remains closer.  They determine that the gear that remains intact would be better put to use by them than by the dead, and collect certain belongings, including potions and a finely crafted battleaxe (soon discovered to be magical).  Recent marks in the sand and gravel of the cavern floor indicates that something was recently there, but has since departed.  Athena and Brynn both let the party know to be on their guard.

Thus warned, they are not surprised when darkness once again descends upon them.  The first action of the druid is to cast blindsight upon some of her companions and herself, as the sounds of many chitin-covered footfalls is heard.  The party sustains more damage this time, with uneven footing, and their foes’ preference for moving around more, using their tails’ longer reach to attack the party with venomous stingers.  It seems as though the creatures have learned of the party’s desire to close with the monsters, and they try to avoid the devastating effect this has on their carapace-covered bodies as sword, axe and mace impact.  It avails them little, for in just moments, the Companions stand victorious over the fallen foe.  Some stand less steady than others though, as the venom of the stingers runs in their veins.

Athena is hard pressed to minimize the effects of the stings, and is assisted by Brynn and his first aid kit.  They both worry about the dwindling supplies in those kits – the only means they have of diminishing the venom’s effectiveness.  A decision is made to return to the surface, resting and replenishing supplies, before coming back into the mines.


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## Softwind (Dec 15, 2003)

*Need input!!*

*Nineteeth Session (Part 2)*

Their retreat is undisturbed, save for a rumbling, as if within the bones of the mountain itself.  “’Quake” states Brynn simply.  “A fair ways from here, but big enough for us to feel.”  They find another elevator to ascend on, and return to the outside.  Karazak and Timber appear from the trees down slope, muzzles bloody, showing that they have fed well recently.  They glance towards the horses, seeming to verify that the beasts are okay, before rejoining Brynn and Genoa.

“Did I just see that?” Athena wonders out loud.  “Nah, they were just looking around, I’m sure.”  Nonetheless, she occasionally glances over at the two animals with a contemplative look.  Tombit busies himself starting a cook fire, hungrily thinking of warm food, especially pie.  The rest of the group, after assuring themselves that the horses are okay and cared for,  settle around the fire, enjoying the warmth of the crackling flames.  They are unable to get satisfactorily warm before they are disturbed.

Crashing through the trees and underbrush, the interloper is revealed to be of giant proportions, its huge shoulders supporting not one but two heads.  In its hands, it carries two clubs, each appearing to be either a large branch or small tree.  It stops upon spotting the party, and then its two heads begin arguing.

“Smash” says one, pointing to the party up the hill.  “Crush,” says the other.
“Smash!” insists the first head.  “Crush!!” retorts the second.  

“SMASH!” 

“CRRRUSH!!!”

“Die,” Grimnyr states, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he swings his dwarven battle axe at the ettin.  The abrupt pain focuses the giant’s attention, and Grimnyr is caught between the two clubs as they meet with him in the middle.  “Smash!” says one head in satisfaction.  “Crush,” the other agrees.

Further words are forestalled, as the Companions rush to their dwarven friend’s aid.  Skylar blinds one head with well-placed shafts, and Tombit’s fists pummel the wounded head into unconsciousness.  The giant’s aim with its now off-hand seems hindered until the remaining head regains control of that side of the body.  This avails it little, as strike after strike falls upon the ettin, causing it to bleed freely from multiple wounds.  With strength diminishing, it tries to run after discovering these opponents to be stronger than anticipated.  It crashes to the ground, dead, before it can take a second step away.

Breathing heavy, the party examines the corpse, taking the little treasure it carried – a few unpolished gems, and some coin, presumably taken from travelers in the area.  The animal companions help drag the body to the forest edge, where the denizens therein would dispose of it shortly.  Tired, the party returns to the campfire.

Fitfully, they doze off, only to be awakened by Skylar, who had taken first watch.  “We’ve got company again,” she whispers to the Companions as she moves from person to person.

She points up slope, to several multi-legged forms moving in the shadows.  A sound not unlike that heard within the mines comes to their ears – chitin!  Having taken the precaution of wearing their armor as they slept, the party is ready for the assault when it comes.  What they did not expect was the humanoid creature accompanying the large spiders, an ettercap.

Having never seen or even hearing of this strange monster, they were surprised by its initial attack, in the form of a sticky web appearing about and on top of the party.  Tombit avoids the effect by tumbling out of the area.  Brynn, Grimnyr, and Genoa are not so lucky, as the strands hold them fast.  Skylar and Athena stand far enough away to not be contained in the targeted area.  They take advantage of their freedom, and engage the enemy.

The large spiders being the closest, the Companions focus their attacks there, as the ettercap slowly makes its way towards them.  Skylar puts her bow to good use in delaying the creature’s advance, allowing her party members to dispatch the spiders.  The webbing does cause some concern, as those stuck within it find their effectiveness in combat curtailed, and their danger heightened.

The battle tide is always on the side of the adventurers however, as the ettercap learns much too late to save its life.  With the death of the spiders and their master accomplished, the entangled Companions are released from their sticky prison.  Time is spent cleaning their gear, weapons, and clothing of the adhesive material, before the group settles once more into rest.  

In the early morning, just before dawn, the party once more is awoken by activity within the forest below them.  More than one adventurer grumbles about the constant onslaught of disturbances; trouble seems to always dog their steps, no matter where they roam.  Their complaints aside, they waste little time in gearing up for the next encounter.

From the coverage of the trees rolls a bizarre creature.  An ape-like head supported off the ground by a series of arms and hands, with no visible torso or legs.  Blue-purple fur covers the head and arms, leaving the grey skinned hands free of cover.  All of the limbs are involved in locomotion of the creature as it nears the party.  With a shock, Tombit realizes what they face.   As a wee Halfling, his dam and sire had regaled him and his siblings with tales of the “boogieman”.  A mythical creature (or so they thought) that snatches away bad little Halflings, carrying them away, never to be seen again!  

After a moment of freezing in fear, he remembers that he is no longer a wee Halfling, and is indeed a brave adventurer!  While the creature advances, he moves out to meet it halfway.  His companions follow behind, with Skylar bringing up the rear.  The opening move of the combat is her typical response to any threat.  Shoot first, ask questions later.  Or, in many cases, shoot second and third.  While some of the arrows find purchase in the tangle of limbs, the creature seems to contemptuously pluck the shafts out and toss them away, its attention solely on Tombit.

It is hard to say who is surprised more when Tombit reaches the creature and attacks with his Flurry of Blows.  Fist, elbow, knees, head – all are used in the attack.  And many of the blows are blocked by the ever moving limbs of the blue-furred creature.  Its return attack seems to grasp only air as Tombit ducks and weaves between flailing arms.  This interplay allows the rest of the party to arrive in order to attack.

The boogieman, able to defend itself against one Halfling has a harder time with several dwarves wielding sharp blades, a gnome with a mace, and the attacks of the animal companions, recently returned from the woods.  Heavily injured, with blood pouring out of savaged limbs and torn face, many limbs hanging limply, the creature tries to flee, only to be downed by a series of vicious open-handed attacks from the Halfling.

Tombit poses a moment upon the corpse in classic hero-victory stance, before unsheathing his dagger to collect “trophies”.  “Just wait until Bombit sees this!” he exclaims, before the realization that she and his other siblings are still missing causes his jubilant attitude to fade.  “Sigh.  That is, when we find her again.”  His team mates console him, and as is his wont, he quickly cheers up.  His mood isn’t dampened much by the rest of the party moving upwind from him and his trophies, the stench of which is enough to drive off even the animal companions.

Due to the series of attacks, the ranger and druid request their cat and wolf stay in camp the rest of the night, to better serve their friends, should something more occur before the sun arises.  They agree, and the remainder of the night passes without incident.  The two animals seem to shrug, “What was the point” to each other the next morning, as they watch the activity in camp as the party wakes up.  The Companions move slowly, tired from the night’s interruptions, and decides to spend part of the day outside the mines, rather than immediately returning to their task.

Athena and Genoa spend some time hunting for medicinal plants and roots to supplement their first aid kits, as well as loading up on berries and nuts to add to their larder.  Genoa instructs Athena on some of the finer points of wilderness lore, and Athena reciprocates with tips on healing; application of poultices, proper treatment and coverage of wounds, and how to purge a body of poison or toxin.  They enjoy the time away from the rest of the group, pleased to be able to relax a bit, and enjoy the surroundings.

Back at camp, Brynn and Grimnyr tend to their weapons, returning a good edge to axe and sword.  They swap stories of past battles, as well as tossing back ale pulled from deep within a pack.  Skylar prepares more wooden shafts for arrow crafting, while Tombit looks on, one hand idly playing with a hank of “boogieman” hair hung at his waist.  As the party comes together again, when the sun makes its way to the far horizon, their discussion turns to dreams experienced the night before; and they are astonished to find that at some point, they had all had the same dream!


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## Softwind (Dec 15, 2003)

*Dream Sequence*

_*You dream.*_

_You are enveloped by a gray mist. Neither light nor dark. There is no sensation of sound, movement, heat or cold. _

_You float._

_Gradually, you “feel” movement, and the gray lightens. Details resolve. You are above a mountain range, and moving closer rapidly, though there is no fear sensation._

_You come to a stop a few hundred feet above a forest, surrounded by hills and mountains, with a river flowing through the valley thus formed. For an unknown time, you rest there, watching the wildlife moving. And their movements become faster, as the day turns to night, and then into day again. Faster and faster, the cycle repeats._

_Only to slow when movement of another kind is seen. Several figures are moving out from under the cover of trees… a small band of rugged individuals, dwarf, gnome, and halfling. They appear to be scouts, each race moving towards their favored locations – into natural caverns for the dwarves, upon the hillsides and hummocks for the gnome, and the halflings – they wander all over the place. _

_Time speeds up again, and you see the rudiments of buildings being erected. Soon, more figures become visible, visible roads emerge, the forest is pushed back from the river and the growing settlements. _

_Then comes a sensation of force, pushing you away from the valley. You feel the need to look away, to let your eyes slide across the valley and into the sky, but you cannot. The pressure increases, pulses, throbs – then fades as your vision dims to the grey again. _

_You hover._

_Again, you feel movement, and the grey parts before you, as you look upon the valley. With a shock, you realize that this is home! You recognize the settlements, the hills, the mountains that sheltered you as you grew. And you sense, rather than see, a protective arcane force over the area. Before you can puzzle it out, you notice that time seems to have started running backwards. The sun rises in the West, and sets in the East. Faster and fast, the days peel back. Days soon pass in moments. Then weeks. Months. Years. The settlement shrinks. The forest grows back rapidly. The river narrows. _

_Soon, no sign of habitation shows. Time continues to wind backwards, though you know not the span of years that is covered before the sensation ceases. The gray mists obscure details once more, although you know that “below” you, there is still land. When the mists retreat once more, you stifle your cries of shock at the land revealed. It is harsh, cracked, barren. You realize that while the land echoes your own, this wasteland could not be your home. The sun in the sky is not the comfortable yellow you know, but a sickly red, and much larger. Even in this “nowhere” of your dream, you can almost feel the heat of the scarlet orb. _

_You feel yourself descending towards the land below, not slowing even as you approach the scorched earth. At the last moment, your momentum shifts to the side, towards an opening in the hillside. You follow the tunnel, quicker than your own legs would carry you, towards a red glow ahead. The tunnel stretches quite a ways before eventually opening up in a large cavern lit by rivers of glowing material – you know instinctively that it is magma!_

_Beside the flowing river of molten rock are three bands of people. Each group is clustered around a forge, powered by the lava itself. And one group echoes your own race, if only in gross form, with the other two being like unto your companion’s races. (Halfling, dwarf, and gnome) Overseeing these groups is a shadowed figure, whose face is never revealed, even by the light of the molten stone. _

_The figure harangues the slaves (for they all bear chains and manacles) to work harder, in a language you know you have never heard before. Each group appears to fashion a rod of some strange material, and shortly, present these rods to the figure._

_He claims each part, in evident joy, and proceeds to make what you assume to be, mystic arcane passes over each one, before beginning to join them together. There is a disturbance however, that draws the attention of the figure before the rods can be joined completely._

_Near the river stands a figure, bathed in a clean golden light, with a commanding presence. Unlike the first one, this figure’s features are visible. It is a dwarf|halfling|gnome! (depending on your race – you view him as kin – but elves, humans, orcs, etc see the race changing moment by moment)_

_There is a confrontation between the masked figure and the illuminated one. The slaves run from the conflict. The masked figure wields his newly-crafted staff, but for naught. He is ultimately overthrown by the brilliant one, although not without difficulty._

_When the battle ends, the rod is once again in three parts. The cowled figure is beaten, bowed, huddling. You realize then that THIS must be the Master. But you do not know who his victor is. With this thought, the bright figure smiles at you, directly. Whoever it is, knows you are there… And, you think, he is directing your vision. He nods, then turns back to the Master._

_With arcane gestures, he causes rifts to appear near his four targets – the rod pieces, and the Master. With an unheard shout, the Master is pulled into the void – but not before he casts something of his own. The rifts warp, causing consternation in the face of the Other, and then the Master, and the rod pieces are gone._

_Your vision dims. When it returns, you are once more over the valley you called home. But now, there is a presence there. Barely awake, but growing in strength as the years stream by, and you again see the places you called home. _

_You watch the events unfold again that lead to the razing of your home. The orcs streaming from the hills, the goblins emerging from caverns, ogres coming from the trees… and something you had not seen before. Gray skinned giants emerging from the hills, to pound the strong walls of Stoneside into so much rubble. Your heart aches, and you cry out to go to your people, to save them…_

_*You awake.*_


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## Softwind (Dec 19, 2003)

*Reinforcements arrive*

*Twentieth Session (Mar 03)*

The Companions decide that they have satisfied the dictates of Harncar, Guildmaster of the Mining and Merchants Guild, and start the journey back to Merikest to inform him of their discoveries. As night is rapidly falling, they end up seeking shelter from the night in a road-side tavern/way station. As they belly up to the bar inside, they realize that one of the patrons is none other than Guy, the guild messenger. He is as surprised as the party, and ushers them to a table to discuss what they have discovered.

His manner becomes grim as the full realization hits him. Without a stronger force, the mines may not be reclaimable. He begs the party to give him some time to arrange for reinforcements to be summoned from town, and as an inducement, offers to not only pay for food and lodging, but also give the party the other 125 gold coins owed them. After a brief consultation with each other, the Companions agree to accept the coins and hospitality while waiting on the Guild warriors.

Two days pass before four men are seen to be riding towards the tavern. The shine of the sun off their polished metal armor makes details difficult to discern, and it is only when they draw their horses to a stop that the party can look them over. Their first impression is not favorable; based on the environment of the mines, plate armor is definitely not what to wear. And yet, it is in that very gear that the foursome is clad. Their superior demeanor, lack of delving knowledge, and names that closely match those of comedic characters soon earns them the designation of the “Four Stooges”. 

(_OOC: Even I forgot their original names, and they ended up being Larry, Curly, Moe, and Shemp)_

Being ready to go for several days, the party quickly gets on the road and returns to the Silverhall Mine that afternoon. Knowing that time of day matters little within, they waste no time in reentering. They notice that the previous tremor they felt before must have returned in strength, based on the amount of fresh rubble scattered on the mine floor. With the assistance of the four guards, they make a quick circuit of the first level, and finding nothing threatening there; descend to the second level, 30 feet below the first.

The Companions, having reached the second level, watch in amusement and concern as the four guards, following behind, manage to destroy an elevator by first dropping, then having it abruptly stop upon the ground below. Stunned and not a little injured, they stagger out of the wreckage, to be tended by an exasperated Athena. “We’ve not even seen a creature here yet, and you’re already banged up.” They look suitably abashed.

The party continues onward, Brynn, Grimnyr, and Tombit in the lead, Skylar, Athena and Genoa in the middle, and the four guards bringing up the rear. After a short distance, they give up all hopes of catching anything by surprise as they listen to the rattle-clank of the guards’ armor. None too quiet before, the fall seems to have worsened the effect. The Companions subconsciously try to put space between themselves and their “backup”.

As they approach the southern end of a particularly large, worked cavern, they spot two of the insectoid monsters, maws buried in the decomposed flesh of what they believe to be a dwarven miner. As the guards close ranks with the party, the creatures raise their heads, looking at the adventurers, gore dripping from black carapace and sharp mandibles. Evil clicking issues from them as they abandon the old meal, rushing forward for fresher prey.

Neither Brynn nor Grimnyr is fazed as the expected darkness falls. However, the Guild guards are completely caught off guard, and sounds of fumbling for weapons and cursing can be heard. “Never had *this* problem on the caravan routes” one is heard to complain.

*WHAT??!??* thinks Brynn. *We got sent Caravan Guards?!? Greeeaaaaaat* The stout dwarven ranger tunes out the ruckus of the apparently inept guardsmen, and readies his weapons, head cocked to the side, listening for the approach of the giant insects. Grimnyr too makes ready for a charge, axe in hand and grin on his face. Tombit moves to the side, hoping to exit the pitch blackness.

Athena, on the other hand, moves forward, through the darkness, relying on her heightened senses to let her know when her quarry is nearby. Genoa calls upon her magic to grant her the same kind of abilities within the inky blackness. Skylar is nonplussed, but nonchalantly fires several times, her shafts scoring at least once, based on the horrible clacking that is heard an instant later after release.

Once again, as in previous combats, the party senses that these bugs *know* how they fight. The creatures close only to snap at the members with their mandibles, then retreat to use their wicked stingers on the next attack. Duck and dodge, weaving in and out of reach, the ant-scorpions manage to cause impressive damage before they ultimately succumb to the onslaught of the party’s weapons.

When combat has ceased, the party discovers that the four stooges are at least good at watching their back; the corpse of a third creature in mute testimony to their prowess in battle, although the deep cuts and scratches belie the ease of combat the four of them claim. Athena and Genoa tend to the wounded, and by their spells, the party and guards are made healthy and whole again.


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## Softwind (Dec 19, 2003)

I'm attempting to remember events that happened many months ago, with little in the way of notes.  These last adventure posts come from running a module from Fantasy Flight Games, called "The Hidden Vault".  A linear feeling adventure, which is okay in a dungeon crawl, with not much variance in the foe faced.  Which makes for blurs in rememberances.  I'm hoping to get input from my players, and flesh out the notes I do have, so I can post them and move on to when I *really* started making an effort to write down highlights.

I've been reading many other threads, from WizarDru, PirateCat, Sagiro, (contact), to name a few.  They seem right popular here, and I'm trying to mold my writing style to that which makes for a good story, which they have done so well themselves.  So, I'm open to input/suggestions/comments/out-and-out flames (well, no, not really, on that last one).  I want to be able to convey the fun my friends and I have around the table.  Please help me to do that!    Thank you!


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## Softwind (Dec 29, 2003)

*Twentieth Session (part 2)*

Tired, but not yet weary, traveling as cautiously as they can, they continue to search for more of the strange creatures, looking for a cause or a reason for these unheard-of insectoids to be within the mine.  The further they travel into the depths of the abandoned mine, the more they believe that there is some kind of intelligence that guides these creatures, and perhaps allowing them to communicate to each other.  Rudimentary tactics are appearing in their encounters, and strategies to try to weaken or separate the group members become common.  
It is thus, in this near-paranoid state that the party comes to an elevator suspended halfway in a shaft leading downward, with someone or something occupying the cage.  Harsh mutterings can be heard, interspersed with soft words in Common, too quiet to be understood.  Genoa shifts form with her cloak of the bat, and flies down to investigate.  With her ultrasound, she determines that the being in the cage is bipedal, about the size of an elf or human.  Not willing to risk herself in her current form, she returns to the party and shifts back to her normal dwarven physique.  She relays her information, and Brynn takes the initiative to learn more by repelling down the sides of the shaft, and entering the elevator cage.  At first, the occupant is just as wary as Brynn, but once they determine that the other means them no harm, they both grab the winch and take the elevator up to where the rest of the group awaits.

In the light of the lantern Genoa holds up to his face, they determine that the figure is male, of elven blood, and wearing kit appropriate to a melee fighter.  He introduces himself as Qonos Hulabalong, fighter and dabbler in the arcane.  His companion is a black raven, perched upon his shoulder, under his hood, who grumbles and chuckles in a harsh language.  When asked, Qonos reveals that he is the last know survivor of a band of adventurers, much like the Companions, hired by the Guild to investigate.  It has been near a month since he has seen the surface, being trapped below by lack of light (showing his lantern’s depleted oil chamber) and the constant movement of the insectile creatures that now inhabit the mines.  He had tried to leave many times, but found his courage failing at the last minute. At the party’s invitation, he agrees to join with them, to finish the task he was paid for, and perhaps for a chance at revenge.

With Qonos’s help, the party quickly finds their way to the third level, and secures the area around the elevator, in order to rest and recover from many long hours of exploration and combat.  Having been assured by Qonos that this area is safe enough for the time being, most of the Companions drift of into troubled sleep.  They awaken hours later, mostly refreshed despite the cold, damp stone floor they rested upon, and ready themselves for another day’s journey.

Qonos leads the party through the areas he had been able to explore before his lantern became empty, and they are able to dispatch several roaming insects before their presence is detected.  Evidence of a growing intelligence is found in the creatures becomes apparent, as the party find themselves suddenly in the pincers of a trap.  Lured by an odd glowing stone in the depths of a pool, the party works to retrieve the item, only to discover many of the creatures lying in wait.  And this time, Grimnyr is not so easily able to shrug off the effects of the venom found within the tail stingers of the bugs.  Others in his party fall victim to it as well, as their muscles lock, denying them mobility.  Only Brynn and Qonos are able to avoid being paralyzed, and they finish the battle alone.  Wickedly tired, they nonetheless remain awake, watchful of threats, as they wait for the venom’s effects to fade.  When they spot movement in the group, they give into their bodies’ needs, and fall asleep.  Hours later, they awaken in chagrin to find out a full two hours passed between the first movements and the complete restoration of freedom.  The Companions do not hold it against the two, as they themselves suffer from sleep depredation.  They all decide to find an area to hole up in while they continue to recover.

After, they satisfy themselves that the third level is reasonably cleared, and they descend again into unknown territory, Qonos’s knowledge not extending to the lower levels.  The ever-present sound of water dripping is only occasionally masked by rumbles around them, as if the whole mine is settling into a new position.  This resurgence of the tremors worries the dwarves in the party – should a large enough quake hit, they would be buried under thousands of tons of mountain granite.  Repressing a shiver, they hurry the party up, continuing the search for the source of what they now called the infestation.


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## Softwind (Dec 29, 2003)

*Betrayal!!*

*Twenty-first Session (Apr 03, part 1)*

Deep within the dark confines of the mine, at the lowest level, rubble and fallen stone litter the ground, making travel difficult. Scuttling noises surround them, bouncing and reverberating from the walls, lending no clue to their origins. The Companions stay on guard, abandoning quiet movements, defeated before they began by the guards’ armor, and the rough footing. Caution, however, is not set aside. Weapons drawn, they continue to seek out the source of the infestation.

It becomes apparent that the noise they have been hearing is retreating before them, leading them on to an unknown resolution. They follow the sounds until they come to a tunnel entrance that shows signs of recent collapse; within the past month or so, evidenced by the broken bodies of several dwarven miners and guards. Most of the flesh is gone, only the remnants of gear, and the shape of the bones gives a clue to the race of the corpses. There is an opening near the ceiling that seems to lead past the barrier of stone.

The Companions head up the pile of rubble and duck into the tunnel beyond. Brynn, standing in the opening, gestures to the guardsmen to head up the hill and join the party. He is startled when they refuse. “What do you mean, this is as far as you go? I’m telling you, get in there!”

“We have our orders. We go no further than here.”

Brynn squints, eyeing them closely. “Orders? Whose orders?” He points at the tunnel. “You know what’s beyond here, don’tcha? What do we face?”

“We have our orders,” Curly reiterates. “We go no further. Do not force our hand…”
With a growl, Brynn makes motions of returning to the cavern floor, but before he can act, one of the guards throws a spherical leather bag at him. He ducks back into the tunnel just as an explosion rocks the area. Pelted by rocks falling from above, he runs towards where the rest of the Companions await. With a roar, the ceiling above the tunnel collapses, forcing the party further inside. Before they can recover their wits, several ant-scorpions leap from ambush. The area goes pitch black, and the mobs descend upon the unsteady adventurers. Putting aside thoughts of vengeance against their betrayers, the group digs in for a protracted battle.

Without knowledge of how many they face, or exactly where they are, the party fights with fierce determination and some amount of panic-fed frenzy. They relentlessly push the attack, taking the battle to their foes. Stinger after stinger pierces their defenses, but by sheer will alone they overcome the venom coursing through their bodies. Blades running thick with ichor, bodies rent and torn, they yet remain standing when the darkness disperses. Even stout Brynn gasps in surprise at the numbers that they had slain. Blood streaming from her wounds too numerous to count, Athena nonetheless tends to others before she pauses to stem her own flow. Once eased of her pain, Genoa wields her druid arts to assist as well.

Tired, but determined, the victors plan their assault upon their betrayers beyond the ruble sealing them from the rest of the mine. Brynn’s eyes gleam as he holds up the helm they had found on a previous adventure. The rest recognize it as the item able to teleport a certain number of them at a time. At their puzzled looks and inquiries, Brynn explain that its magic can be called upon three times before it is exhausted for the day. 

“Once, half the party is whisked to the other side, hopefully behind our foes. Twice, I return. Thrice, we stand in full strength again,” the dwarven ranger counts off on his fingers. His smile is echoed on his friends’ faces. Quickly, they separate into groups by total weight, knowing the limits on the helm. Brynn gathers to him Skylar, Tombit and Athena, the ones he knows can maintain silence if needed. Genoa, Qonos and Grimnyr watch as their friends disappear, then step back a few paces, just in case Brynn doesn’t _quite_ remember the return location. With a *pop* of displaced air, the ranger returns. Another moment sees the group returned to full strength, together, some distance from the guards, who still stood watching the tunnel.

“Makin’ sure we ain’t coming back out, I figger,” grumbles Grimnyr.

Brynn chuckles, deep in his throat, a chilling sound. “I believe we should return the favor.” Then he sobers, and tells the group, “Nay, try to capture them alive. We must know why they sought to kill us, or at least trap us beyond.” With the assent of the party, he moves forward to challenge the three guards.


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## Softwind (Dec 29, 2003)

*Kill the betrayers!*

*Twenty-first Session (part 2)*

Taken aback by the rapid reappearance of the Companions, the guards at first stand agape, surprised.  They regain their senses quickly and reach for their weapons.  “Ah ah ah,” admonishes Brynn, his own swords at the ready.  “You’ll be moving your hands away from blade, nice and easy.”  The dwarf sighs as the three ignore him.  He calls over his shoulder, “Remember, try to take em alive.”
Skylar launches her blunts, hoping to dissuade the guards from trying anything foolish, like attacking.  Stubbornly, they refuse to lay weapons aside, and move towards the Companions.  Athena blesses the party, to assure steadier strokes in the coming battle.  Grimnyr, disgust evident on his face, rotates his axe 90 degrees, the flat facing the on-coming foe.  “Fagh,” is his only comment.  

Brynn weaves his blades in front of him, defending himself as he watches for opportunities to buffet his targets with nonlethal blows.  Tombit is within his element, his hands and feet a blur as he uses them to hammer the guards into submission.  Unfortunately, the plate armor they wear provides enough protection for them to shrug off the attacks.  Qonos attempts to armor himself in magery, but lingering images from his month-long stint in the dark of the mines ruins his concentration, and his spell dissipates to no good effect.

Calling upon the spirits of Nature itself, Genoa weaves an enchantment upon the very metal of the armor they wear, to increase the temperature thereof.  The success of the casting is shown in the sounds of sizzling, and the smell of scorched leather.

Two of the three guards move in erratic patterns, encased in a shell that is rapidly heating up, struggling to remove it as quickly as they could.  Realization hits, and the two of them have a bare moment to look at each other, before the pouches carrying the explosive mix reach critical temperature.  

The resulting blast deafens Qonos and Skylar, leaving the rest with just ringing ears and headaches.  Taking advantage of the confusion, Tombit tackles the last remaining guard, slamming him to the ground, and perching on his chest.  Temporarily deafened, disoriented, and now having his breath knocked out of him, the guard yields without further struggle, and lapses into unconsciousness.  The Companions take advantage of this break, and work to heal their deafened party members, but to no avail.  Athena and Genoa both sense the power to remove the damage, but have not the strength to mold it to their purposes.  Until they can get them to a more experienced healer, they will remain deafened.

When Shemp, the remaining guard revives, he is questioned none-too-delicately.  Brynn hammers the prisoner with questions, seeking answers to the reasons behind the Guild guards’ betrayal. He is unsatisfied by what he can learn from the man, but unwilling to descend into torture.  Disgusted, he ties the man up, perhaps tighter than necessary, yet gains little pleasure from the cries of pain.  He tells his party that there appears to be a faction within the Guild of Miners and Merchants that sought to remove the threat from the mines, but allow no one to survive the attempt.  Further information would only be gained from the leadership of the Guild itself.  Athena points out that Larry, the leader of this band of guards, still remains on the surface, guarding the horses.  Brynn’s eyes light up with the thought of possibly getting more answers.

“First, though, we have a job to finish,” he tells the party.  Astonished, they ask why he wants to continue this quest, now that they know there is a bigger picture they can not yet see.  “Because we agreed to this task, we were paid for it, and should these things leave here, who knows what harm they could cause outside?”  Pragmatic as always, the group agrees, and works on a way to return to the other side of the rubble choking the passageway.

Genoa summons a dire badger, and casts a quickening spell upon it, to allow it to burrow through the rubble, which is conveniently altered by Athena into an earthen consistency.  Following behind to cancel the effects of the spell upon the rock, a formed stone tunnel is quickly crafted.  By the time the badger breaks through the other side, the summoning spell has run its course, and the animal fades away.  The party forms up on the other side, readying themselves for battle.  The corpses of the ant-scorpions lay where they had fallen, undisturbed, although further in chamber ahead, the sound of movement reaches the party’s ears.


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## Softwind (Dec 29, 2003)

*Kill, cut, and run!*

*Twenty-first Session (part 3)*

At Brynn’s unspoken gesture, the Companions of the Valley (plus one) leave the tunnel, entering a vast chamber beyond. Water laps at the edge of the chamber, and spreads across most of the area, save for a few outcroppings scattered about, and the stalagmites. As they approach, creatures rise from the water, and advance upon the group.  Familiar in shape, but of a size not seen before, the insects rush to engage the interlopers. The chamber falls into shadow, as interlocking spheres of darkness are created, slowing the party’s advance. 

Genoa wastes no time casting blindsight on as many Companions she can reach, while the Rangers, not needing assistance in the dark, stride forward to the last seen location of the insects. Their weapons snake out, possessed by the same hunger as their wielders. Metal hitting chitin draws the others to them, and the group lays in with a ferocity rarely glimpsed. As each opponent is slain, the shadows recede, only to darken again as the insects move about, jockeying for positions in which to rend the party. 

The party gains the upper hand for a moment, before something more enters the fray. From a mound upon a sizable island in the underground lake come lengthy tendrils, to trap and entwine the adventurers. For every one that is severed or crushed, another takes its place, an endless supply. For a moment, the party despairs, before being suppressing the emotion with rage. 

Focusing on the remnant of the insect guards and destroying them, they can then turn their whole attention upon the creature in the water. Genoa wildshapes into a shark to attack from below, while Skylar, Brynn, and Grimnyr fire arrows at the openings in the mound, hoping to injure the creature. Athena moves between party members, applying a healing touch to each. Qonos conjures arcane missiles and directs them at the creature, while Tombit, his melee talents wasted on long-range battle, prowls the shore, looking for something to do to contribute to the fight.

Soon, the tendrils come less often, and shorten in length. Grimnyr realizes what is occurring, and snatches one of the explosive leather spheres claimed from Shemp. Even as Brynn shouts “NOOO!,” the sphere impacts the mound crater. The resulting explosion has several effects. The mound crumbles, the stones above it pelting downward, and the whole of the mountain seems to shudder.

Stalactites separate from their centuries-long home, to come crashing down randomly upon land or water. The dwarves look to the ceiling with concern, sensing that this time, the collapse will be much greater. Only the equipment and treasure, carried by previous victims of the insects, scattered about the island delays their headlong rush out of the chamber. Stopping only long enough to grab the items, corpse and all, they rush towards the elevators leading to the surface. As an afterthought, they toss Shemp over Grimnyr’s shoulder on their way out.


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## Softwind (Dec 31, 2003)

*Confrontation!*

*Twenty-second Session (May 03)* 

Laying down his burden, Grimnyr straightens up and moves towards the mine exit.  He quietly joins Brynn, who is leaning against the granite wall, his attention directed downslope, where the last of the guards waits, guarding the horses.

“Whut’s the plan, then?” asks the gruff fighter.  “We rush em?  Or do that sneaky stuff?”

Brynn chuckles.  “Grimnyr, my friend, as much as you decry that sneaky stuff, even you realize it works in our favor more often than not.”  Brynn sobers.  “We must capture Larry, alive, to find out what is going on.  The attack below does not fit into what we thought we knew.  We need answers.”

Grimnyr nods.  “Aye.” He stands up, motioning to the mine behind him.  “I’ll go alert the others.”  He grins.  “I hope Larry resists, just a little.  My axe be itchin’…” At Brynn’s dark look, he amends, “for a good thumpin’, no’ bloodshed.  We need him, aye.”

Grimnyr talks in quiet tones to the rest of the group.  Qonos seems eager to leave the confines of Silverhall, his prison for a month and more, but restrains his desire to rush outside.  He listens intently to the instructions on what they all should do if Larry resists questioning, and mentally readies his spells for casting, should the need arise.

Skylar shifts her arrows within her quiver, bringing blunts to the fore, to her obvious distaste.  She makes no complaint however, and examines her bow in silence while she waits for the party.  Genoa and Athena discuss their abilities in relation to the upcoming confrontation – neither wanting to use anything directly damaging, but rather thinking towards restraint and compliance.  Killing someone as a matter of self defense was one thing, slaying them for actions taken by their fellows was another.  Tombit is quiet on the matter, unusual for the normally vocal Halfling.  His brows are furrowed as in thought, but he does not share those thoughts with his Companions.

Brynn signals to the party to head out of the mines, and down the slope.  No overtly hostile action is to be taken, at least before he can confront Larry.  “Perhaps he is innocent in this,” he mumbles, but cannot even convince himself, let alone his friends.  

Tombit slips ahead, and to the side, to approach Larry from another direction.  Skylar goes the other direction, looking for a position that offers a clear shot.  The rest of the group continue down the scree-covered slopes, towards the makeshift stockade built around the horses, and the figure crouched by a small fire beside it.  Their movement is not unnoticed, and the plate armor clad figure stands up to face them.  They halt several paces away, and Brynn addresses the guard.

“We have need to talk, Larry.”

“I am at your service, Brynn,” comes the cautious reply.  “What do you wish to talk about?”

“The actions of your men, in the mines below.”

“I notice they are not among your number.  Did they fall in battle then?  They must have died protecting you, for I see that you have all returned.  Even added one to your number,” indicating Qonos.  

“They died, aye.  But not in defending us.” With anger in his eyes and voice, he continues, “They sought to trap us below, in chambers containing many creatures hostile to us.  They claim to have orders to do so.  My question is, did those orders come from you, or someone with in the Guild?”

“Orders? I am unfamiliar with such orders.  The only ones we were given were to assist in the clearing of the mines.  That you are here now attests to their success, for I assume that task has been fulfilled.”  Larry smiles ingratiatingly.  

Brynn brushes aside the attempt to redirect the conversation with a negligent wave of his hand.  “The task is done, but you have not answered my question.  They stated they had orders.  They threatened our lives.  They paid the price for their betrayal with their own, as unfortunate as that is.  We would have sought to question them further, but for an accident.  Stop!!” he shouts, as Larry bolts for the corral and the horses therein.

Brynn unracks his bow, and launches an arrow, attempting to scare Larry into stopping.  The arrow ricochets against the rocks, and sinks into the hindquarters of a horse nearby.  This does not deter Larry, just forces him to choose another animal.  

Skylar fires and hits the fleeing guard, but he shrugs off the blows as he makes his way to a horse.  Genoa attempts to communicate with the mounts in the corral, but with the squeals of the injured animal filling the air, they are too filled with panic to listen.  Qonos staggers the guard with Magic Missiles, but this serves to thrust him forward, rather than slow him down.  Athena struggles to reach Larry, to restrain him somehow, as a little blur that is Tombit emerges from the rocks nearby and attempts to spring onto the horse Larry has mounted.  The attempt lands him awkwardly on the horses’ rump, and he scrambles to regain his footing as he begins to slide off the animal.

Larry manages to turn the horse around, to face towards the opening in the corral, as Tombit retries to jump on board.  Brynn succeeds in hitting the guard with several arrows, which disorients his opponent.  This gives Skylar another opportunity to hit, which further distracts Larry, causing him to jerk on the reins, which stumbles his mount.  Tombit regains his footing, and struggles with Larry to unseat him.  Qonos’ next volley of Magic Missiles is enough to cause the man to lose his grip, and fall to the ground, with Tombit along for the ride.

Athena arrives in time to assist the feisty Halfling in rendering the man unconscious, with a deft swing of her mace.  Panting from the excursion, Tombit sits back as the rest of the group arrives, to tie up the guard.  Grimnyr returns to the mine to fetch Shemp, who is dumped unceremoniously next to the stripped and trussed Larry, who wakes up and glares at him.

Brynn and Grimnyr crouch in front of the two guards, to renew the questioning.  “I’m sure you’re in a more conducive mood to talk now, Larry.  Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll make sure you get a fair trial.”  They are met with tight-lipped silence.  Brynn stands up in disgust. Grimnyr remains where he is, but leans forward menacingly towards the pair, a sub vocal growl rising in his throat.  “I’ll no’ make the same promises…” he says, fingering his axe.  Larry blanches, but says nothing, yet Shemp does not have the same fortitude of will.

“I’ll tell you what I know…”  The guard reveals the orders came from within the leadership of the Guild.  For purposes unknown, they were to assure that both the threat and the adventurers were disposed of.  The plan had been to wait for the party to kill the creature in the deepest chamber, then turn on the party and kill them, assured that they would be weakened by the previous combat.  Curly had been too eager to have the group attack the monster, and none-too-eager to be part of that action.  “And that’s all I know,” he finishes, head down, ignoring the murderous look in Larry’s eyes.

“Thank you, Shemp.  I’m a dwarf of me word.  No harm will come to you by our hands.  Tombit, check their bindings, would you?  I’ll ready the wagon to transport them to town.” He eyes the deepening dusk.  “Er, for tomorrow, then,” he amends.

The party and their prisoners settle in for the night, memories of previous encounters in the area from the mountain and forest inhabitants keeping them on their guard.  Genoa summons Nature’s Rampart to add to the protection of the scattered boulders and rocks; the dirt and stone reforms itself to make a ditch and burm surrounding the group.  Qonos and Skylar volunteer to take first watch, knowing their reverie will take less time than their companion’s sleeping.  The night, thankfully enough, passes without incident, other than Karazak and Timber arriving in early morning.  The two animals pad to their respective friends, and curl up at their sides, asleep moments later.

The party rises hours later, makes a quick breakfast from meat gathered by the animals, and foodstuffs from the forest collected by the rangers.  The prisoners are loaded into the wagon, which is hitched up and readied for travel, as the party mounts up on the remaining horses.  Genoa chooses the one she healed of its arrow wound the night before, sensing thankfulness in the animal, and wanting to keep an eye on the horse as they travel.  She turns her mount’s head towards the trail leading off the mountain slope, and gently nudges the gelding into motion.  The rest of the party forms up behind her, with Grimnyr driving the wagon behind, the early morning sun at their back.


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## Softwind (Jan 2, 2004)

*Giants! The loss of a friend.  Perhaps new ones made?*

*Twenty-third Session (May 03)* 

The early afternnon sun streams through the trees, softened by the leaves moving gently in the wind.  The party relaxes, enjoying a late meal, and soaking in the sun, after several days in a cold, dark, damp mine.  Their relaxation ends abruptly as the forest around them erupts in the raucous cries of birds, as hundreds take to the air in protest.  This is followed by a sub audible rhythmic rumbling under foot, and the sounds of trees being pushed aside and toppling.  The dwarves look to each other, the same thought running through their heads.  Giants.
“Giants!” shouts Grimnyr, a wicked gleam in his eye.  “I’d know the signs anywhere.  Ready yerselves!”  He unsheathes his axe, eyes roaming over the forest in the direction of the disturbances.  His motions are echoed by Brynn and Genoa, with their animal companions’ fur lifting and teeth bared.  Startled by their companion’s actions, the remainder of the party is slow in reacting, but is ready when the first giant emerges from the trees.

Standing four times the height of the dwarves, the large humanoid stepping out from behind the forest cover is clad in roughly tanned hides, carrying what appear to be a boulder in one hand, and a small tree in the other.  Its attention is directed behind it, as if fleeing something.  A second figure, the same size as the first follows shortly thereafter, although its gaze drops upon the Companions waiting beside the road.  “Hahmmmm,” it rumbles, “foooooood.”  It licks its monstrous lips.  It strides forward.

Sharper eyes within the adventuring band notice that these creatures have seen some trouble recently, as evidenced by the numerous wounds and bloodstains covering them.  The wounds don’t seem to be slowing them any, however, as the first one takes note of his friend’s attention, and follows him towards the party.  “DARFS!” he yells, spying the dwarven members, and begins to run.

Grimnyr and Brynn dart forward, rushing to engage the Hill giants, weapons in hand and feral grins on their faces.  Skylar rapidly lays shaft to string, and lets fly several arrows, laughing out loud in glee as each shaft sinks deeply into giant flesh.  Fresh gouts of blood cover already bloodied hides, and the injured giant slows in its rush towards the party.  On the heels of the mundane arrows are several arcane versions, cast by Qonos, as he too runs towards the giants.  Unerringly they strike, slowing the recipient further.

Timber and Karazak, working in tandem, race each other to the newly damaged giant, preparing to harry it, allowing the Companions time to drop the creature.  Genoa, surprised by the animal’s reaction, cuts off her Entangle spell mid-cast, and instead runs forward, to get a better angle on the monsters.

Tombit runs at top speed, around and behind the giants, in order to take advantage of sneak attacks.  Athena follows him, keeping a watchful eye on the impetuous Halfling.  “Whatever doesn’t kill him, usually makes him pretty unconscious,” she thinks to herself.

Between Brynn and Grimnyr, and the rapid fists of Tombit, the wounded giant falls to rise no more, but not before using its club to pummel Grimnyr.  The second giant focuses on Skylar, as her arrows pepper him every chance she gets.  Genoa slows down the second by entangling its feet with magically enhanced brush and grass.  

From the trees comes another complication.  This milk-white skinned giant towers over his Hill cousins, and the club it wields appears to be of stone.  Mists seem to follow it, deadening the light coming through the trees.  The air becomes damp as it approaches.  Having observed the battle before, it strides for Skylar, seeing her as the greatest threat.  Its club knocks her unconscious, and in a follow up swing, it tosses Grimnyr's body like a ragdoll, to fall crumpled in a heap some distance away.

Stunned by the rapid course of events, and filled with rage, the remaining Companions fell the remaining Hill giant, and turn their attention on the newcomer.  It doesn’t have another chance to wield the club effectively before it too joins its Hill giant cousins in death.  The party does not have time to see to Grimnyr or revive Skylar before yet another interruption occurs.

On horseback, five men ride towards the party, quickly but with caution.  They rein up a fair distance from the company, eyeing the remains of the giants, and the bloodied weapons and armor of the adventurers.  They bear upon their tabards the symbol of a tower overhung by a crescent moon, a symbol vaguely familiar to the party.  With a rush, Brynn realizes a similar symbol was on the Guild guard’s uniforms.  He tenses, ready for action, yet is put off balance by the band leader’s next actions.

The leader prods his horse closer, right hand hovering over his blade, but relaxes suddenly with a laugh.  “Do you realize how long we have been chasing this group? Ahah!  We own you a debt, then.”

The Companions are puzzled.  Brynn moves away from the body of Grimnyr and strides forward, to look up at the half-elven face of the band’s leader.  “I don’t gather your meaning.  Were you after these?” gesturing at the fallen giants.

“Indeed, yes, friend dwarf.  Ah, but introductions are in order, for by your expressions, I can tell you know not who we are.”  He dismounts, then points to himself.  “I am Captain Kendu, of the Argent Legion from Everlund.  My men are Cea, Avo, Tharimis, and Morgan.  We are tasked with keeping the trade roads clear.  Those three represent the last of a group of giants that had come down from the mountains to threaten the caravans.  When the rest of their party was killed, they fled eastward.  We have been following for days.  So, we owe you a debt of gratitude.  By what names are you called, and from whence do you come?” he inquires.

Brynn introduces the rest of the party, warily, sidestepping the question about their homeland, and inquires about Everlund, particularly regarding the Guild of Miners and Merchants.  He tenses again when he hears the Captain admit that they are familiar with the Guild, but relaxes when the Captain goes on to explain that the Guild is just one of many within the town, and they are not directly connected to it.

In the background, Skylar is brought back to consciousness by Athena.  As the gnome moves towards Grimnyr, she realizes that the gruff old dwarf’s body is too damaged to contain life still.  Her stifled cry is heard by Brynn, and the dwarf turns to check as well.  He knows that their mentor and friend is gone, but is gentle in prying rapidly cooling hands from their grip on the axe, and is just as gentle in closing eyes that see no longer.  He notes that the old dwarf went happy, from the grin upon his face.  “Rest well, old timer,” he whispers.

“Nooooo!  There must be something we can do.  We can’t let him go like this!” wails the healer.
“He went in the best way a dwarf could,” Brynn tries to console Athena.  “He died, axe in hand, fighting giants.  He couldn’t ask for better.”

Athena pushes Brynn’s comforting hand aside.  “No, I refuse to let him go.  He has so much more to do in this life!  We still need to find out what happened to our kinfolk and friends in the Valley.”  The rest of the party remains silent, watching and waiting.  Athena starts to walk away, and then whirls around to face Brynn again.  “The helmet!  I can take him to the priestess in Merikest!  She can help, I’m sure.”

“Athena, we don’t know if Grimnyr *wants* to come back.  He died as he wanted to.  We should let him enjoy his reward!  He’s probably already drinking and supping with Clangeddin in the Halls of our fathers.” His voice trails off as he sees the determination in Athena’s face.  “All right, all right,” he sighs, and pulls the helmet from the magical sack Genoa carries.  “We shall wait here, to rest and heal.  Please hurry back if you can.”  He turns to the Legion soldiers, who have been silent, respecting the Companion’s grief.  “We need to make camp here, for rest and food.  You are welcome to join us, if you desire.”  As Captain Kendu nods agreement, Brynn places gentle hands upon Athena’s shoulders.  “Hurry back, lass.  We’ll wait for you here.”

Athena’s tear-streaked face nods, and disappears beneath the stylized helm as she moves to the corpse of Lieutenant Grimnyr, Guardsmen of Rivenwall, hero, friend.  The two disappear in a blink and a rush of air.  Brynn sighs.  “All right, let’s get busy.  We’ve got a camp to make.”  The Companions notice that his eyes never rest more than a moment on the bloodstained ground where Grimnyr fell, although none can say if the shininess in his eyes is from the dust of the road, or some other reason.


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## Softwind (Jan 8, 2004)

*A friend returned, the journey continues*

*Twenty-fourth Session (Jun 03)* 

Athena stumbles, her memories of the steps leading to the temple in Merikest not being clear enough for the Helm to place her exactly where she envisioned. She shrugs off the pain of a turned ankle, and shouldering Grimnyr, staggers to the doorway leading inside. There, she seeks out Darla Parsons, the head priestess of Torm, the only one capable of calling the dwarf’s spirit back to his battered body.
Athena is allowed to speak with Grimnyr, when the time comes to determine if he desires to return or no. At first reluctant, he decides to return, having been shamed into it by Athena. “Your work here isn’t done, old man. You can take the cowards way out and avoid dealing with it, or you can come back and fight on, like a true warrior.” 

The priestess does not request payment, considering this returning a favor done to the town by the Companions. Grateful, Athena donates a small sum to the temple, grabs Grimnyr’s hand (to his discomfort) and re-dons the Helm. In a blink, they are standing again on the roadway where they had left hours before.

In her hurry to return, Athena had not noticed the time, and arrives to darkness, and Skylar’s warning shout. Identifying themselves, Athena and Grimnyr enter camp to the joyous exclamations of their party members, freshly awakened and happy Grimnyr has returned to them. The old dwarf blushes at the attention, and gruffly accepts the welcome, before looking for his gear. The party soon beds down to sleep, with Skylar returning to guard duty. 

The next morning, Grimnyr is introduced to Captain Kendu and his men, and the party decides to take a few days to rest and recuperate, while Grimnyr re-accustoms himself to existence on the Prime. A few days pass before Captain Kendu becomes restless to return to duty. He invites the party to finish his rounds with him, ending up at Everlund. They agree, as they still have unfinished business with the Guild of Mining and Merchants. They look forward to being able to sell much of what they have aquired during their many adventures, as well. 

The mountain path eventually wends its way to a valley, where the village Jalanthar (and the ruins of the village’s previous location) rest, overlooking the Rauvin River. A nights rest in a bed sounds appealing to all, but a cry of horror splits the night before rest can be taken. Hideous demon-chicken creatures stalk the night!... but are no match for the intrepid heros. The town militias are slow in coming; and the Argent Legion, encamped at the ruins, are too far away to hear the townsfolk's cry. With fell speed, the party dispatchs the monstrous chicken-like beasts, if only to reach bed sooner. All returned to calm in short order.

The next morn sees the party and the Everlund guards reeling into their saddles, having tried the local Jalathar Amber ale the night before. The trail ahead would shortly meet up with the river that leads to Everlund. Reaching the ferry port, the party encounters a scene of mayhem; the remains of the ferryman, his wife, and daughter scattered in a grisly pile. Many footprints lead away from the crime, into the nearby woods. The party follows, to become the next targets of the instigators' hunger - or the instigator's doom.


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## Softwind (Jan 9, 2004)

*Beasts within the woods, closure*

*Twenty-fifth Session (Jul 03)* 

Brynn takes the lead, followed by Tombit, Athena, and Genoa, with Qonos and Skylar taking the rear.  Cautiously, they follow the tracks into the shadow shrouded brush.  The trail disappears after a few dozen feet, although the signs of claws upon nearby treebark indicate the creatures had taken to the trees.  Brynn quietly states the tracks have been made within the past hour – whoever killed the family leisurely returned to the cover of the woods, fearful of nothing, or so it seems.

The hair on the backs of both Karazak and Timber suddenly stands on end, as their heads whip around to stare at something in the trees a few yards away.  Barely sub vocalized growls emerge from each throat, and tails start twitching.  Alerted by this alarming behavior, the party is forewarned as strange puma-like beasts emerge from the trees.  Gaunt, their strange appearance is compounded by a pair of tentacles rising from their shoulder blades.  They are strangely difficult to keep in focus; the Companions’ eyes tend to slide off of the beasts.  Knowing the animal companions would not be upset by something that meant them no ill, the party fans out as the creatures continue to advance.

After the first clash, the creatures having taken the measure of the party’s abilities, the two creatures separate and retreat towards trees.  As the party follows to deal with the displacers, a loud crashing is heard – something very large approaches, very fast!  Uprooted vegetation flies as a large, heavily muscled beast emerges from the brush, its gray hide unmarred by the thorns and bushes in its way.  Six eyes take in the party and the treed displacers, and with a roar, it charges.

Grimnyr , Qonos and Brynn focus on the gray creature charging them, as Skylar spies one of the displacers and hits it several times with hastily drawn arrows.  Tombit clambers up the other tree, in pursuit of the other.  Athena circles around the large beast to take it from behind.  Genoa, summoning up power from Nature itself, entices a tree to entwine about a displacer.  The thus-trapped creature yowls as more arrows find their mark, easier now that it is no longer mobile.

The Halfling finds hitting his target about as difficult as seeing it straight.  Solid blows land on nothing but air.  His opponent suffers no such impediment, as tendril lash at the diminutive monk time and again.  Fairly wounded, Tombit decides to grapple his opponent instead, getting in close to neutralize its advantage.  He succeeds so well that the creature is startled into letting go of its perch, plummeting it and the Halfling towards the ground.  Tombit tumbles off the displacer as they hit, negating the fall, but his opponent is not so lucky.  The sick crunch of breaking bones reaches his ears, eliciting a grin.  

The hugely muscled beast fairs about as well against the four arranged against it.  Several telling blows have rained down on the dwarves, but the streams of blood and gaping wounds upon the renderer indicate the battle has not been one sided.  Its eyes constantly look towards the displacers, almost longingly, and as the one Tombit faced falls, it makes to move that direction. This is the last action it takes, as in concert, the dwarves, the elf, and the gnome all land solid hits, killing it.  

The treed displacer, unable to dodge the arrows while entwined, parishes under a continual rain of arrows.  Tombit, with the aid of Brynn, finishes the other.  And the battle comes to an end.  For all of its brevity, the party finds themselves fatigued by the combat.  Three bodies behind at the ferry, with three bodies in the woods, bringing balance.  Sorrowed they can do no more than revenge the slain family, they return to the dock and set about burying the dead.  Athena says a few words, calling on Garl Glittergold not tease them too much on their journey to the next life.

Having paid their respects, healed and rested a while, the party wonders what else may lay on the road (or river) ahead...


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## Softwind (Jan 10, 2004)

*Rivertown ruins, treasure*

*Twenty-sixth Session (Jul 03)* 

Investigating the keelboat reveals damage to the hull; obviously savaged by large creatures. It takes a fair amount of work by the Everlund guards to repair the boat, but by the time the noon sun is overhead, they are done. Genoa, not wanting to abandon the horses, decides to ride while the rest of the party climbs aboard the boat. Lightly encumbered, the horses should be able to keep up with the boat, even as the trail that leads along the river becomes rocky and rough going.

Through the day, the keelboat is guided somewhat rough-handed down the river, none of the party being proficient in its use. As the sun starts it’s descent behind the hills, Captain Kendu begins to look nervously about. The party comes across the ruins of a rivertown, where the river opens up and became deeper. Rumors of a horrific creature abiding within these waters persist, even after many have claimed to have killed it. 

The Captain debates the merits of portage past the waters, but debate is cut short by the party’s discovery of the truth of the rumors. A leviathan creature arises from the waters, laying siege to their craft. Only by acting together, both from land and from sea, does the party survive the encounter. 

Since the rumor of the creature was true, the party decided to investigate the rumor of a dwarven silver shipment that was drowned within these waters as well. Such a thing is not found, although the party manages to salvage another type of shipment - gold bars, robes, tapestries and the like, meant for a temple of Ilmater that never was created. The other point of note was the tunnels beneath the water where it appears that the creature, a squid of enormous size, emerged from. And possibly it's predecessors....

The smell of carnage greets the party later that afternoon - a caravan, or the remnants of one, lay upon the trail. Investigating the slaughter, the party finds themselves the targets of attack! 

While the orcs prove to be not much of a challenge, the strange worg-riding creature and his troll guard prove to be matches with the party, as Grimnyr falls to the blows, again with a grin on his face, but this time never to rise again. The enemy vanquished, or at least chased off, the party takes a few moments to bury the brave, gruff dwarf before moving on towards Everlund.

Captain Kendu sets a grueling pace to make it to town as quickly as possible - many things had occurred that he felt must be communicated to his superiors. And the party, weary as they were, agreed to his pace, for they too were eager to see this city, and partake of its services. Hot baths, weapon shops, learn-ed people of all types to help them expand their knowledge (and open their pocketbooks) - all were looked forward to.


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## Softwind (Jan 13, 2004)

*Thieves, an encounter, and a quest*

*Twenty-seventh (Aug 03)* 

No sooner has the party set foot within the city when they are reminded of the downside of large gatherings of people - thieves. Athena feels a tug at her belt and sees a young human running away with her bag, which contained a fair portion of items to be sold or bartered for operating capital. The Companions give chase, watching the bag pass from one thief’s hands into another, then into and through the sewers. They follow, always just behind the thief, until they lose sight of him.

They wander the dank, noisome tunnels for awhile, when a muffled explosion draws their attention. They rush that direction, until they encounter a nightmare formed of transluceny chaos. The thief had almost escaped the adventurers, but had met his end in an abrupt manner at the "hands" (pseudopods?) of a creature from another dimension. In digesting the thief, the magical Bag of Holding was destroyed, spewing forth what contents were not obliterated by the explosion, and causing serious injury to the creature. Enough fight was left in it however, to challenge the bold, brash country adventurers.

Finding that many of their blows seemed ineffectual, and that one of the creature’s main attacks was to pull the group member into another dimension before digesting, many of them despaired of being able to survive the encounter. Through perseverance and determination, not to mention helpful magical items, the creature is defeated.

At the end of the fight with the creature, half the party found themselves stranded in a land part of yet separated from the place they had stood moments before. These party members sought support from the local clergy, and were able to escape their erstwhile prison with the assistance of Aranthea Siean, the Druidess at Mielikki’s Grove outside Everlund. Once reunited, they seek rest, renting a room at the Scowling Orc and spending time in the tavern portion.

The next day, upon leaving the Tavern, the party is accosted by guardsmen, claiming Skylar is wanted for crimes against the Guild of Mining and Merchants. The party is taken before Submistress Gwynnth, (as they did not wish Skylar to be there alone), the error of mistaken identity is discovered, and the party dismissed. No answers are forthcoming from the Subguildmistress to the party's questions about the Guild’s real target, an elf woman by the name of Shiara.

Afterwards, the party members separate to explore the city, seek out answers to questions, craftsmen to create weaponry, or guild leaders to learn from. The arcane casters get more than was bargained for, as they seek access to the Everlund Guild of Wizardry (with branches throughout the Silver Marches). The Headmaster of the Guild, Gotien, sets before them a quest, the successful completion of which will grant them sponsorship for membership in the Guild, with all the benefits (and requirements) that entails. 

A guildmember by the name of Yurace, with an escort of city Rangers from the Green Hall, were sent into the High Forest to speak with Turlang the treant a fortnight before... and were not heard from since. The party is requested to find out what happened to the envoy, and report back to Gotien. The return of the envoy, or his remains, was requested, although not required. From what the party has heard thus far, this quest might not be so easy...


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## Softwind (Jan 13, 2004)

*High Forest, near Everlund*

*Twenty-eighth Session (Aug 03)* 



Leaving Everlund, and heading south, the party comes to the edge of the High Forest - and finds the way blocked by brambles, bushes and dense groundcover. While Genoa and Athena have no difficulty traversing the growth, thanks to inherent druid abilities and a Ring of Free Movement, respectively, the others find it slow going until Genoa causes the plants to recede. Passing the half mile of growth, they enter the cool confines of the Forest proper.

Evidence of thick growth, both new and old surround them as the work their way deeper into the forest, seeking answers to the question of what happened to Yurace the halfelven wizard and his elvish ranger escort. They know to seek out Turlang the treant, or at least attempt to track the party, but the forest is reluctant to give up any answers.

Some time after entering the woods, they encounter a battle scene being enacted - several creatures attacking a mobile tree! Discovering the tree to be a young treant sprout, the party leaps to the aid of the beleaguered plant...  Gleefully as it turns out, since the attackers are some bizarre blend of gnoll and goblin - neither of which are much liked, especially by the dwarves! The clash travels some ways, as the attackers seem intent on killing the young treant, even to being less than effective at attacking the party.

When the foe is defeated, the party attempts to heal the young treant as it "collapses" into hibernation due to injuries received. Upon "waking" the next morning, it greets the party and gives thanks for its timely rescue. The party volunteers to escort the one sprout back to its "home" glade for rest and recovery. In return, it tells the party a little of the Forest it calls home. Unfortunately, that is not much, as it is young yet. 

After taking their leave of the treant in its stream-fed glade, the Companions continue onward to the east - the probable location of Turlang. The party is in good spirits, although feeling a little discouraged at finding out just how large the forest really is...

Nonetheless, they continue on, enjoying being within Nature's auditorium.
The feeling of elation fades as they come to a blighted area in the forest - trees withered and dying, plant life sickened. None can say why this is so... no cause seems evident, that is, until they reach near the other end of the blighted area, a distance of about one half mile.

From the ground rises an armed warrior...an undead one!!!  The party quickly circles the figure, intent on slaying it and sending it back to whatever pit spawned it. Unfortunately, it seems resistant to most of the damage inflicted upon it, even so far as to resist the Turning effect of the party cleric!
The battle is grim, as its touch seems to carry the feel of the grave, sapping vitality from its victims, but with an even grimmer determination, the party perseveres and vanquishes the foe. With its demise, it leaves behind the equipment it carried, and weakened opponents. Disturbed, the party leaves the area, seeking a safe haven for the night. 

The night passes uneventful, thankfully, and the rest seems to renew some of the flagging energy of the party. After morning ablutions, with jaunty steps they head deeper into the woods.  No one, not even the druid, seems to notice the eyes upon them, watching from the trees.


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## Softwind (Jan 16, 2004)

*Hybsils & treants*

*Twenty-ninth Session (Aug 03)* 

Being surrounded by green, growing, healthy forest proves a boon to the party members of the rangererly, druidic, or elvish persuation - even the halfling seems to enjoy the trip. The party notices something is different though, as the Forest sounds increase in volume for a short while, then hush. They spy the reason why as creatures emerge from the trees around them. 

Looking like a small antelope, but with a humanoid torso arising from where the neck and head would usually be, the Hybsils (for that is what they name themselves) carry bows, but none threateningly. The largest (relatively speaking, they are only about 3 feet high) comes forward, curious as to these interlopers in *his* forest. After many questions, they seem mollified and relax somewhat. The leader of the band, named Aviril, offers to take the party to a wild elf settlement nearby, to ask after the treant Turlang.
Questioned about the undead warrior, they party finds out only that it is a "bad place" that the hybsils avoid. At the other end of the forest is another "bad place", even worse than the small tainted one in their guarded area. The elves may know more, they state.

And, indeed they do. It takes some time - two days in fact - to reach "Trees Whispering", the wild elvish settlement, comprised of scarcely a handful of trees and a few score of distrustful elves. Only one, the leader Turil, was willing to talk with the party - the Hybsil Aviril's presence being the main reason. Topics discussed included where to locate Turlang, or another who would know how to contact him. The party is directed northward, to where another treant, Duthroan, was known to last be. The party sets off, with dried foods and elvish waybread gifted upon them by the settlement, to seek out this Treant. Along the way, they muse upon what was told to them of the history of a place called Hellgate Keep, to the far east of the forest.

Perhaps it is that musing that prevents them from realizing the danger, or perhaps the foes were really stealthy, who can say. All that is known is that during Genoa and Athena's watch, enemies came upon them quickly, bringing darkness to part of the camp. Genoa's warning wakes the party to the conflict to begin. Ogres and gnolls close in to attack, while some invisible foe beleaguers the sleep fogged adventurers. 

Tombit, his attention focused on seeking out his hidden foe, comes under attack several times, being pelted by alternating freezing frost and burning fire. A Lightning Bolt comes near to ending his life, and he decides discretion is the better part of valor, as he slips into the shadows and tall grasses.

His companions are busy with the ogres, as the gnolls harry them from the trees nearby. Brynn is in his element, as these near-giants fall somewhat easily before his blades. Genoa calls upon the Forest itself to hold fast their opponents, causing the plants to entwine them, and grow thorns to pierce them as they struggle. The areas of impenetrable darkness do little to hinder them, having experienced that very thing within the Silverhall Mines. The same cannot be said of their foes, as ogres stagger about, lost in the inky blackness.

Athena busily runs from party member to another, bringing healing touches and supportive words. She seems to strengthen the group with her presence, as her team mates recover and press the attack. She lends her mace to the fray occasionally, providing a much-needed distraction for foes hard-pressing her companions. Skylar, bow comfortably in hand, puts it to good use, providing distraction, and being responsible for the single-handed slaying of a gnoll or ogre that had yet to engaged her group. 

The conflict comes to an end abruptly, with all other opponents dead, as they seek out the last remaining attacker - the mysterious invisible foe - and hear him disappear into the night, laughing. Athena spends a few worried moments looking for her Halfling friend, until the very injured Tombit crawls from his hiding spot beneath a bush. She tsks at him for taking such risks, but her hand is gentle as healing warmth treats burns, and closes wounds.


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## Softwind (Jan 20, 2004)

*Duthroan*

*Thirtieth Session  (Sept 03)* 

The rest of the party, still rubbing sleep from their eyes, moving slowly from their wounds, assess the damage dealt to self and surrounds. After judicious use of Athena’s Caduceus stick and healing spells, the wounded members take stock of the remnants of the fight.  

Concern over their guide, the hybsil Aviril, turns to surprise as he emerges from the surrounding brush, cleaning his weapon and fur of blood.  Little of which is his.  He explains that he had to deal with an opponent himself, but not to worry; the ogre will not bother anyone again.  After Athena verifies that the wounds the hybsil carries are minor, the party beds down again for the rest of the night. 
Rising some time after the sun, the party performs its morning ablutions before taking the trail once more, sped by the druids spell, and urged on by the Hybsil, Aviril. The morning turns to noon before a halt is called in a clearing dominated by a large tree. 

The party is surprised when their guide speaks in the flowing words of the sylvan race, and his words are returned - by the Tree! Eavesdropping by use of a spell, Genoa translates as much of the conversation that occurs before the spell dissipates. Ten minutes long, and that just a greeting! Tombit takes this opportunity to "investigate" the tree, and is lifted up high in its branches... for it is Duthroan, a treant in service to the High Forest and Turlang.

The ensuing conversation is in Common, albeit slowly enunciated, and the party is able to converse with Duthroan. The medallions from the hybsils and Turil pave the way to grudging acceptance by the treant. He makes comments about the party being "odd" (all but the elven members) but does not go into detail. He also states that he knows where Turlang is, and is willing to assist the party in reaching the treant, if they would only aid him in a small matter. Seems there is a patch of forest that has "stopped responding" to his commands, and this is worrisome. It is as if the forest had become "infected" or "corrupted".

Being the friends of nature that they are, the party agrees to help Duthroan in exchange for his assistance to get them to Turlang (and also to help the forest). He picks up the party and swiftly moves them to an area of the forest that is marsh like, wherein a "falling star" had impacted, several days prior. From their vantage points, the party sees the crater and makes their way as quickly as they can. 

Within the muck-surrounded crater lies several dozen feet of water, the silt still stirred up from the impact. Devising a plan of ropes and water breathing spells, some of the party descends into the murky depths, ropes tied about their waists and held by the other members. The bottom of the crater holds a still-warm and rather heavy object that the party decides to lift. Several hijinks later, involving the rest of the party and faceplants in the water, the object is revealed to be, at least in part, comprised of adamantite!!

No sooner had they exclaimed at the find when the surrounding hummocks and rotting vegetation stretches out their leafy tendrils and latches onto several party members. For the first time, the druid is heard to cry, "The plants must die!" Perhaps it is this pronouncement that distracts the group, or just the confusion of the moment, but no sooner is it uttered than the dwarven ranger disappears down the gullet of a mobile pile of rotting weeds and plants! All told, three crawling credenzas lay siege unto the party - two fall beneath the mighty blades, arrows, and mace of the party, the third being strangely reluctant to head to the great fertilizer pile in the sky...

Alchemetical fire, oil, and a flameblade-weilding druid finally lay the plant creature to rest, in a mighty FOOM of heat and ash. Having laid out the opposition, the group pauses to dress wounds and take stock of the damage. When the meteorite is placed within a handy Bag of Holding for storage, the unease the rangers and druids have felt in the area dissipates. Having no fear that the lingering fire will spread in such wet conditions, the party heads back to where Duthroan and the animal companions await.

The treant is pleased with the results, for he can feel the "strength" returning to the land once the stone was hidden from the Material Plane. He commends the party, and again offers a quick way to reach Turlang, mentioning once more the "oddity" of the party... Peeling away some bark, he magically forms it into a Seal for the party to show to Turlang once they arrive. The cleric takes possession of it, and then watches in interest as Duthroan cast some form of spell, and points to a patch of ground. "Step there" he states. 

One by one, the party members step upon the indicated ground, and find themselves amidst ancient ruins. Taking a moment to reorient themselves, they are confronted by another treant, although this one so large as to dwarf Duthroan. Challenged by Turlang, for it can only be he, with such size, the party shows their badges and medallions already gathered. Slow to be mollified, the ancient druid asks of more proofs and deeds of their good intentions. 

Finally satisfied, he begins to answer questions placed to him, interjected with his own of the outside world (outside being beyond the confines of the High Forest). He, too, speaks slowly, although he makes attempts to speed up to match the flightier nature of the "short lived" races (in comparison to his own long lifespan). 

The conversation carries the party into the early hours of the morning, those who are able to stay awake so long. They learn of the history of Hellgate Keep, and its previous inhabitants, and the supposed fate of Yurace and the ranger escort. It does not bode well that the wizard and his party entered Hellgate, and have not since returned.


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## Softwind (Jan 22, 2004)

*New weapons and a new Companion*

*Thirty-First Session (Sep 03)*

After 2 days non-stop discussion, the party decides they have enough information to take back to Everlund. While the Headmaster Gotien may not like the news, the party decides that informing him is better than withholding the information.
Turlang gives the party the Mage Guild symbol worn by Yurace, and opens up a backroads for the party, depositing them a short half day's journey from the city, within a copse of trees seemingly protected by Nature herself. The group quickly acquires passage with a merchant heading into town - with their help, the merchant shaves a few hours off his time to get to the city.

The party heads back to the Inn, where they find their rooms have not yet been rented out again. Quickly discussing plans, the group separates. Skylar and Qonos head to the Mage's guild to let Gotien know what has happened. Tombit, Athena, Brynn and Genoa locate the blacksmith who had been commissioned to craft Tombit's Tiger Claws, and reveal to him the huge "rock" of adamantite recovered from the forest.

With their help (casting protective spells, and summoning heat and water), the 45 pound stone is melted down and formed into bars, and weapon blanks. The greenish metal, also part of the stone, melts first, and is formed into nine two-pound bars. In its refined state, it causes the rangers and druid of the party to feel even more unease. The refined adamantine is crafted into three bars, Tombit's claws, 3 short swords, 2 daggers, and a longsword. The blacksmith claims a bar and a shortsword blank, and also asks for one bar of the green metal. The party is uneasy about giving up the green metal, and asks for time to discuss the issue.

In the meantime, Qonos and Skylar talk with the Headmaster of the Order, and are introduced to Daladeriel. The elf had entered the Guild while still young, and it is the Headmaster's wish that he get some "experience" in the real world. After the introductions are made, Qonos and Dal head to the blacksmith's shop, while Skylar spends time researching in the Guild library.

Upon arrival at the Blacksmith's, Dal is handed a bar of the green metal to investigate, and the party adjourns to the Scowling Orc. There, the Companions get acquainted with Dal, but their talk is disrupted by a pounding on the door. The guardsmen outside the door state that the party stands accused of sabotage, theft, espionage, and even murder! Dal is quickly handed the teleportation helm by Brynn, and returns to his cell in the Guild. It would not do, thinks the party, to have him and the green metal be discovered with the party!

The party is lead to the chambers of a Justicar to stand trial, and upon hearing the charges, are allowed to give their side of the story. Even under a truth-reading spell, the group's story does not match with the events given the Justicar. The group demands to face their accuser, and so Subguildmistress Gwynnth is summoned. Having been awoken abruptly, she is none-to-pleased to be brought before the Justicar, but is soon put in her place by him. Under the same truth spell, Gwynnth tells her side of the story - and is found to be truthful as well. 

It is thought that the four Guild guardsmen (Four Stooges) were acting on their own. Perhaps both the party and the Subguildmistress were lied to. In any case, both parties are allowed to leave, the investigation (and the charges) being put in abeyance for now. The party returns to the Inn to rest for the remainder of the night. 

The next morning, they call upon Dal, and find that he has divined the powers of the green metal. It seems as though the metal is anathema to growing plants, especially in its pure form. The party decides that this is not a good thing, especially in a town where the forest is attempting to gain back what has been claimed by Everlund townsfolk over the centuries. They are not much heartened to hear that with powerful magic, the "blight" effect can be turned to a protection from plants. Either way, they figure, this metal has got to go.

Brynn claims back the Teleportation Helm, and quickly heads to Merikest, to call upon friend Humphrey, the Sage. After explaining the situation to Lad, he is brought to Humphrey's study, and discusses it with the sage. All he is looking for, says Brynn, is a safe location for the metal until they can find a means to destroy it. Humphrey agrees, and with a wave of his hand, sends the metal elsewhere. Satisfied (and a little impressed), Brynn returns to Everlund and fills the party in on what has transpired.

Soon, talk goes back to Dal. The party decides that they need to know the capabilities of their new companion, and what better way than to battle test him. Knowing that the area around Everlund is practically crawling with all kinds of challenges, the group heads through the North Gate, past the Thayan Enclave, and into the hills. A short hour finds them scouting footprints of large humanoids, before finding a "suitable" victim.

Brynn shows great restraint as he points out a hill giant on the trail ahead, and does not immediately attack. Athena stands behind Dal, with Qonos to one side, and Genoa to the other. "There he is, behind the rocks, Dal" Brynn says. And with that, the elvish wizard opens up combat with a fireball!

The Hill giant, hurt and startled into action, advances towards the “little ones” down the hill, only to be hit by a magic missile from Dal. Genoa, unable to restrain herself when faced by her people's mortal enemy, casts a suffocating spell upon the giant. Unable to breathe, the large brute appears disoriented, but still rushes forth to attack. 

In a  moment, the druid is slammed by the club wielded in its huge hand. Several times, the giant raises its arm and the club, and rains blows down upon her. A few hits later, and the druid is greatly wounded. Brynn runs up to the giant, to draw the attention onto himself, and give Genoa a chance to recover. Athena also runs up, and attempts to heal the druid.

Calculatingly, Dal launches another fireball, set to detonate beside and behind the giant, avoiding damage to his new found companions. Burned, scored by blades, and unable to breathe, the giant lashes out again. Once more scoring hits upon the druid - only the actions of the cleric keep her standing.

Brynn unsheathes his swords and uses them to deadly effect as he whittles away at the creature, its blood making footing treacherous. Dal summons arrows of arcane force, which thud into the giant's chest with deadly accuracy. Its life having fled, the behemoth falls to the ground, to rise no longer.

The party hears the sounds of more giants heading their way, so they quickly gather what effects the giant had, and make their way back to town quickly. Within their room, (after ignoring the looks received by the tavern patrons), they sort through the loot while Athena uses her innate abilities to clean them of the dirt, grime, and blood from the quick but messy fight.

Based on what they saw, they feel the addition of the mage to the party a good one, and look forward to the coming challenges. The elf mage doesn't appear quite as convinced, however...


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## Softwind (Jan 28, 2004)

*Twice betrayed!*

*Thirty-Second Session (Sept 03)* 

Early the next morning, there is a knocking at the door to the room the party shares. While the rest of the party groans in frustration, Athena opens the door to see a young human boy bearing a summons from the Guild of Mining & Merchants. They are requested to arrive at the 6th Hour past noon that very day.
Upset, the group discusses their options. Tired of the constant accusations, troubles and trials, the party echoes Brynn's sentiment about being accosted so often in Everlund. Less than 3 days in town, and already so much had happened! Reluctantly, they agree that going to the Guild is in their best interest, if only to find out what is going on.

They spend the day attending to tasks, shopping, researching, caring for weapons, eating. Tombit attempts to make up for lost meals by gorging himself on "egg pie" in the tavern's eating room, as Athena looks on with amusement. Genoa and Brynn head to the Green Hall to relax and attend to their companions. Skylar returns with Daladariel to the Mage Guild's library to study the history of the Tri-Towns founding, and Qonos attends his trainer in the learning of the Arts of a Bladesinger. (Mostly, he runs, tumbles, and recites poetry)

Skylar determines that she would like to try to use one of the party's magic items, something determined to be Oil of Increase. This rare alchemetical elixer is said to have the ability to alter an item's properties, whether by granting a power or an increase in effectiveness. While applying it to her bow, she sees a minor glow from within the wood. Then she and Dal spend several hours trying to divine what has occured. From what they can tell, two effects have occured - the bow will now embue arrows with a Shock effect, and the bow itself adds a Commanding air to the wielder. Skylar is quite pleased with her new "acquisition".

On the way back from the Green Hall, Brynn spies a wanted poster, posted by the Guild of Mining and Merchants, with the name and description of a halfelf by the name of Shiara - the same woman that Skylar was mistaken for! Brynn rips the poster off the board, and hurries back to the Inn to share with his traveling companions.

Between the wanted poster and the summons to the Guild, the party is very curious, and not a little apprehensive. Still, with nothing else to do, they head to the Guild Hall. At the front door, they show the summons to the none-too-friendly guards, and are allowed inside, where a servant guides them to an ornate door. Seemingly made of gold with inset gems, some members of the party are sorely tempted to, ahem, aquire some of the trappings. They are forestalled when the door opens and they are admitted inside.

At first confusing the chamber for Subguildmistress Gwynnth's, they are suprised to see an older human gentleman seated at the desk at the far end of the room. (They had assumed that Gwynnth summoned them, since the note bore no signature, albeit being written in a masculine hand) They are invited to seat themselves in the chairs arranged before the desk, and help themselves to the libations prepared. The dwarves take it as their due, and drink, finding it to be passingly well made ale. Tombit fidgets, not trusting the situation. Indeed, the rest of the party has trepidations still as to the reason behind the summons.

The elder gentleman looks familiar, and the party realizes that this is the self-same man who hired them in Merikest to clear the Silverhall Mines. Some members of the party (Qonos, Dal) do not recognize him, never having met him, and so he introduces himself as Guildmaster Harncar. He inquires of the party the state of the mines, and wants to know of their progress. He is taken aback to hear that the mines have been cleared for some time now, ready to be claimed again by the dwarven miners, and asks many more questions. Harncar seems unaware of his lieutenant Gwynnth's actions in this matter, and so he summons her to his chamber.

Gwynnth arrives shortly with her guards, and is momentarily taken aback at the presence of the party. Harncar waves aside her questions, and proceeds to ask her pointedly what has been going on. Gwynnth begins to tell her version of the story, which contradicts certain parts of the party's story. In order to get the full story, Harncar calls for more witnesses to the events - and Larry and Shemp arrive shortly! 

To aid in the questioning, Athena offers to cast Zone of Truth, and the offer is accepted. With the spell active, Harncar turns to Gwynnth and asks why he has not been informed of her activities, and of certain matters in the Guild itself. Her silence seems to imply culpability in recent events, and neither Larry or Shemp add much to the discussion. Genoa cast Command "Tell the truth" at the same time Athena casts Suggestion "Talk", and under the force of the three spells active, Gwynnth blurts out "I want you dead!" as she points to Harncar. And then she shouts "Kill him!" Her guards, including Larry and Shemp, jump into action.

Tombit, having been a typical Halfling and bored by the talk, talk, talk had been poised for such a possibility. As soon as Gwynnth revealed her true colors, he leaps to the desk in front of Harcar, brandishing a book to defend the Guildmaster from attack. Genoa cast "Tortoiseshell" about the guildmaster for protection. Brynn and Qonos unsheathe their weapons, and Skylar steps back for a clean shot at the attackers.

Athena is caught by surprise, but readies her weapon for the ensuing attack. Dal, ever cautious as a good mage should be, standing behind the chairs, has a good view of the combatants. His readied spell hits the chest of one of the guards, and the acid arrow begins to eat away the armor on the man.

Larry and Shemp fan out to attack the party, with axe and broadsword, while Gwynnth casts Mirror Image upon herself in preperation for the coming attack. Her remaining guard jumps to the dais to attack the Guildmaster. In the next moment, under concerted attacks by Dal, Qonos, and Brynn, the extra images of Gwynnth disappear. Genoa, standing besides the cowering Harncar, comes under attack by the wounded guard, and is hit several times by his axe. 

Dal casts empowered Magic Missiles towards the guards, injuring them such that attacks by Brynn and Qonos slip past and heighten the injuries. Athena steps up to wield scimitar and mace against the man, furthering the wounds. The injured guard near Harncar swings his mighty axe again, causing Genoa to go down, unconscious from injuries. Tombit rushes to her aid, defending her prone body from further attacks. In the mean time, Guildmaster Harncar cowers beneath the magic shell that protects him from attack.

Dispatching Shemp with artful sword strokes, Brynn focuses on Larry, demanding surrender. Larry continues his grim battle, and is further injured by Qonos. Dal fires more Empowered Magic Missiles into Gwynnth and the axe-wielding guard on the dais. The strengthened missiles sorely injure Gwynnth, causing her to slump - and then vanish in a puff of smoke! The party cries out in dismay at the loss of their foe, but quickly turn back to the on-going battle. Athena rushes to aid Genoa, to heal her and bring her from death's door. Larry again is given a chance to surrender, especially now that his mistress is gone, but he refuses, even unto death dealt by Brynn. The dwarven ranger feels but a small pang at this, having offered surcease many times to his opponent.

With acid continuing to eat away at his breastplate and the flesh beneath, the axe-wielding guard grasps a small sphere from a necklace, and throws it to the ground - and then all is fire! The resultant explosion, and the ones following as the remainder of the necklace also explodes, kills the axe-wielder and another guard, while the party manage to escape only partially scorched. Harncar and Genoa, huddling under the Tortoiseshell, are not even affected by the blasts.

The last enemy being dispatched, Genoa lets her spell lapse, and is quickly attended to by Athena. The maternal gnome bustles about, tending to wounds, as Brynn surveys the rubble of the once-impressive office of Harncar. Recovering his wits, the Guildmaster thanks the party profusely for their timely assistance in saving his life, and promises rewards, to be named later, once he has fully recovered from the shock. 

The party asks a boon of the Guildmaster, to have him use his influence to clear their names with the Justicar. This he promises to do, and more besides. With this assurance, they leave the Guildmaster to recover with help from his assistants, who come rushing in moments later.

Sore and tired, the band returns to the Scowling Orc, to ponder the events that have taken place. They decide to busy themselves, to keep their minds off of events they seem to have no control over.

The mage Daladariel returns to his Guild, to research the events that lead the dwarves, gnomes, and Halflings ancestors of the tri-town townsfolk to make a long journey and found the towns in the first place. He is joined by Brynn and Genoa who, with the promise of ale to wet their throats, will tell tales to Daladariel that may assist him in the search. Skylar also heads to the Mage Guild, in the hopes of scribing from Dal's spellbook anything she feels is lacking from her own. Qonos again looks up his trainer, to continue his lessons. Athena goes shopping for Alchemistical components, feeling their stock of potions is growing low.


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## Softwind (Feb 2, 2004)

*Call for assistance*

*Thirty-third Session (Oct 03)* 

The party spends a week in shopping, scribing, and studying, and is prepared to answer a call for help when it comes. The druid high priestess Aranthea requests the party’s presence in the Green Hall, where she reveals that she has been feeling a disturbance in the natural order of things. The sensation originates to the north, along the Everlund Pass, near the small village of Sumpter.  When all the party is gathered together, Aranthea's friend Shokan teleports them to the Pass, a days journey from the town.
Heat and humidity is the first thing noticed when they arrive. For a region of the country fast entering Autumn, the weather is very much… peculiar. Shouldering their gear, the group enters the forest on a small trail that branches off from the main road they found themselves on. The smell that assails them the further they go is of rot, mildew and decay. Not the smell of a normal, healthy forest. The rangers and druid express their unease more frequently the farther they follow the trail.

As dusk fast approaches, the trail opens up unto a small village. The ground soggy beneath their feet, they enter the central square, the eyes of the villagers upon them. One brave individual comes up to the party, asking if they are the aid that they have called for.  Expressing confusion at the question, the party listens as the tale, albeit jumbled, is told. For some time, the entire area around the town has been under plague of hostile weather. The heat and humidity have been constant for months, and until recently, they had been under constant deluge of rain. All the crops have succumbed, the trees in the orchards rotting where they stand, the food stores are destroyed by mildew and mold, and the forest wildlife is striking in their absence. Without outside assistance, the village looks to starve in half a week.

As night has fallen, the group decides to locate lodging for the night at the only inn in town, the Lone Tree, run by Samus. They are given two rooms of their choice, being the only outsiders in town currently. Dal sends his pseudodragon familar out to scout, as does Qonos with his raven. Both animals return shortly, tired from constant oppression of the heat and humidity. Strange figures were seen in the forest, but no details were discerned. The party decides to investigate in the morning. The ranger and druid shrink their animal companions to fit them within the Inn, much to the discomfort of the innkeeper - but who is he to argue?

As the sun arises in the east, the party is awoken to screams from outside the inn. Leaping up (and for some, out the window), the party rushes into the common square to determine the source of the cry. There they find a hysterical woman pointing to the edge of the forest. When they investigate, they find the savaged corpses of two young men - Cale and Kalda, the same two that had been sent out earlier to get assistance for the village. Form their wounds, it appeared as though something had clawed them to death... taking large portions of their bodies with them.

Brynn scouts the area for tracks, and finds several of unknown origin. He motions for the rest of the party to follow. Skylar also watches the trail, and her keen elf eyes see further marks that had gone unnoticed by Brynn. He covers his embarrassment with a hurried pace, and the group finds itself deep within the woods in moments, still following the strange marks in the rain-softened earth. 

The party is taken by surprise some time later as the trees themselves seem to come alive and attack.  Looking about, they realize that while the things attacking them look on the surface to be trees (cactus), they bear the humanoid shape of two "arms", two "legs" and a "head", although no features are discernable. 

With battle joined, the group leaps into action. Daladariel casts Magic Missile at the nearest target, staggering it. Genoa summons an Elemental of Earth to battle for her, targeting it near another of the plant creatures. Skylar, true to form, unslings her bow and revels in the new effectiveness it has, as the energy-infused shafts strike true, crackling with electricity, as they hit. She spares a brief moment mourning the loss of each arrow as they are consumed by the raw power of the enchantments placed upon them by her bow, but their new effectiveness outweighs her concern.

Brynn, arms crossed before his mighty chest, unsheathes his swords and crashes into the fray, his blades cutting a swath of destruction upon the plant-thing before him. Tombit slips into the shadows where he observes the battle, looking for likely targets, and searches out amongst the trees for any other hidden opponents. While he looks, he readies the light crossbow recently acquired from a previous encounter.

Athena, her friends under siege, pulls from her waist her mace and scimitar, her countenance grim, in opposition to her normal easy grin. Tightly gripped, the weapons reach out to crush and slash her opponents. In a few sure strokes, one creature lays upon the ground, unmoving.  Qonos follows behind, his single sword dancing in the wan sunlight to cut deeply into his foe, and dancing out again, almost quicker than eye can follow.

Their surprise shattered, the plant creatures move quickly, targeting the party with thorns fired seemingly from their bodies, or reaching out claws to crush and rip. They seem intent in closing upon the elves of the group, and Skylar, Daladeriel, and Qonos come under concerted attack. Many of the attacks prove ineffectual against the skill and finesse of the party. It seems likely that the months of experience in battle have proven to be of aid in avoiding the strange plant-creatures attacks. However, even experienced adventurers take a misstep on occasion, and some of the attacks strike their marks. 

In response, Daladerial casts Haste upon the party, the arcane energies infusing them, causing their actions to increase in speed as the world appears to slow about them. Genoa calls upon the forces of nature to surround her and her closer companions in a mystic shield of energy (Antiplant Shield) that keeps the plantkin a distance away. Tombit, unaware of the invisible shield about him, waits for a creature to approach closer. 

Brynn, already outside the protection, seeks another opponent to cut down, his previous target being eliminated with sure strokes of his blades. Qonos too looks about for a place in which to place the edge of his longsword. They hurry to where a gathering of the green creatures advances. Skylar scans the woods, and upon sighting a plantkin approaching, draws back the string of her bow.  Somehow confused, her dexterity fails her, and she promptly flings the bow some distance from herself.  Startled, she watches as her weapon lands beneath a nearby tree.

Athena moves near the summoned earth elemental, busy with a plantkin, and attacks a second target nearby. Genoa summons forth another elemental, this time the invisible Harrier, and commands it to assist the earth elemental already engaged. Between the two summoned creatures, the plant being is decimated. Tombit realizes that something is preventing the creature near him from coming closer, so he fires two bolts from the crossbow, injuring and slowing the plantkin.

The walking plants, their numbers diminished by the party, nonetheless continue the assault, firing thorns into the members of the group not covered by the Antiplant Shield cast by Genoa. The creatures seem unperturbed that many of their attacks prove ineffectual, as they continue to fire their needles, and reach out with their wooden claws.

Moving quickly, thanks to the Haste spell from Daladariel, both Brynn and Qonos take down their respective foes, before moving on to new ones. Athena seeks out injured members of the party to heal before returning to combat. Skylar recovers her bow, and in the process, fires upon a plant creature nearby. Tombit continues his attacks with the crossbow, seriously injuring the one attacking Skylar. Dal again summons forth mystic energy to strike with Magic Missiles, the bolts unerringly finding their marks.

Under the combined, relentless assault from the party members, the remaining plant creatures are hunted down and destroyed, their vegetable-matter bodies steaming in the hot sun. Exhausted by the battle in the oppressive heat, the party slumps to the ground and fall into a stupor.


----------



## Softwind (Feb 6, 2004)

*Dream sequence*

*Thirty-fourth Session* *(Oct 03)  *[Given to the players to read]

Exhausted in the heat, but mostly uninjured, you survey the scene of battle with the strange plant-men.  Your sight wavers, and you shake your head to clear your vision, only to have your eyes water and your head spin.  You look around in panic as you feel the world collapsing, feeling a strange sort of relief when you realize that it is not the world, but you, and your companions, who are falling.

You go to your knees as vertigo overwhelms you, your awareness of your surroundings dimming.  All goes dark as your head hits the ground.

_You find yourself in a featureless gray environment, devoid of useful references – no air seems to move, no scents to stimulate your nose, no sounds impinge upon your ears, no time seems to pass; or at least, any you can discern, with nothing to differentiate one moment from the next.

Suddenly (or slowly, who can tell?), air moves across your skin, the breeze growing stronger.  A faint odor of brimstone and hot metal comes to your nose.  A rhythmic thudding is soon evident, sounding like footsteps, heavy trodding approaching._
_
The source is revealed to be a figure you feel you have seen before, albeit in a dream. Clad in loose robes, very little can be seen of the true appearance of the person, save a pair of gnarled hands, and the toes of heavy boots emerging from the bottom of the garments.

The figure’s head moves slowly, side to side, as if looking for something… or someone.  For even though it stands no more than five paces from you, it seems not to notice you.  Side to side, slower and slower, back and forth, back and forth… and stops, staring straight at you… and your companions.  For now, by your side, stand the other members of your party.  Together, you face the cowled figure, as it lifts its hands and pulls back the hood.  First impressions aside, the face revealed is enough to cause anyone to draw back, for the scars, from weapon and flame, grant the man a diabolic visage.  The grin that follows gives no relief to the sight before you.

“Well, well”, he says.  “Perhaps the time has come after all.  I feared I would grow tired of the hunt.  You have been elusive; I will grant that to you.  Oh, all save your elven companions… they were not so difficult to find.”  His chuckle disturbs you.  He waves at you expansively, “Only the small and stout ones are necessary, the rest of you“, pointing to those of elven blood, “can… die.”

His hands crackle with a baleful energy as he raises them in a strike – only to be halted by something that catches his attention behind you.  The nimbus surrounding him dims, and he lowers his arms slowly.

“You!” the breath barely escaping the ruined lips.  His hands whip up, the energy renewed, and bolts of raw energy crackle over your heads, towards a yet-unseen target.  The expected burst of arcane energy does not come, and you turn to see what has transpired.  Standing several paces away is the other figure you have seen in your dreams, or heard about from your companions at least.  Appearances being deceiving, you can not afterwards describe the person you see; but are left with a feeling of presence.  The figure speaks not as the dark energy surrounding him fades away, like smoke on the wind.  He raises strong, tender hands as in benediction upon you, and then raises them higher as his own fingers glow golden, and fire streams from them towards the first figure, only to splash against a mystic shield.

Feeling discretion the better part of valor, you move aside while the two opponents face off.  And move farther away as the atmosphere increasingly heats up.  Spheres, bolts, and clouds of energy obscure your vision, preventing you from seeing any details of the struggle.  On it rages, until you are near to blinded by the light, deafened by the noise, and suffocated by the mixed stench of fire, brimstone, hot metal and gases.  And then, with a mighty screech, yanked from the very depths of the pit itself (or so it seems), it is over.  The noise quiets.  The lights fade.  The wind, present throughout, clears the miasma, revealing a lone figure standing, but barely, clenching a tattered robe.  He grins weakly, and crumples.

You run to assist him.  The healers of the group are dismayed that their connection to the divine is weak in this area, but what aid you provide is enough to strengthen him, so he is able to sit up.  Seeing the concern and the questions in your eyes, he reassures you that he will survive, given time.  He smiles wanly.  His form flickers briefly, but with a grimace, he stands up.  

“Somehow, even with my efforts, he is getting stronger.  And my abilities do not increase in such proportion.  He has worked his way past the enchantments woven about you, and I cannot strengthen what he has already removed.”  He sighs deeply.  “However, he cannot find that which he does not know.  To succeed, you must change.  Even the subtlest of alterations should suffice.  Your core essence will remain the same, but will be clothed in different skills, abilities, mindsets.  Grant me a moment, and we shall begin.”
_
 ***

You remember the words.  You remember the inflection.  But you cannot remember much else about the being in the other realm.  For now, you stand back in the heat and humidity near the town of Sumpter, the remains of the plant-kin steaming in the sun like so much mulch.  You look around, your initial passing glance stopping on your companions.  Or at least you think they are…  there is something different about them somehow
Shaking off the dream, the party looks itself over.  Subtle and not so subtle differences are seen in most, although the newest member of the party seems mostly the same, the party not familiar enough with Daladariel to note changes.


----------



## Softwind (Feb 10, 2004)

“Great.” Brynn rubs his forehead. “We come out here looking for answers, an’ someone hands us more questions.” 

“It does seem as there is another Power at work here. Who were those two, in the vision I presume we all shared?” The mage picks himself up and tries to rub off the mud clinging to his robes. The mud just smears across his garb, and he gives up in disgust. “Where is a basin with warm water, and fire-heated towels when you need them?” he inwardly bemoans.

“One be who we know as ‘The Master’. He’s the one what took our kin. As for the other, well,” __shrug__ “He’s ‘The Other’. Whoever he be, he’s a helpful sort.” Brynn cleans his blades of the sap and ichor that covers them, and stands up. His gaze takes in the sunlight beating its way past the trees to the forest floor below. “We’ve got more day ahead o’ us. Let’s use it to track down this hermit druid what lives here somewhere.”

Groaning and grumbling meets this announcement, but the party is soon ready to move again. At Brynn’s suggestion, they head towards the lake said to be nearby. Qonos volunteers to return to the village of Sumpter, to inform them of the progress made thus far, and perhaps to learn more of what the party faces.  The rest of the Companions continue their march after they watch the bladesinger disappear into the woods, heading towards the town.

Their steps are heavy, as they slough through the morass of mud and decaying vegetation, but soon they see the trees opening up onto the waters of the lake. As they draw nearer, they are assailed by the overwhelming smells of rot, decay, and putrescence, stronger as they step out from the cover of the forest. 

The sand of the lake shore is covered with the corpses of countless fish, and rotting plants - the waters are dark with algae and sediment. Walking forward cautiously, the sharp eyed among the party notice something shiny near the surface of the water, just a few feet from the shore. 

“Do you think it’s safe?” someone asks. 
“Not sure. Odd that the rest is so murky, but whatever it is shows through.”

Tombit wraps a rope around his waist, silently hands an end to Brynn, and wades into the lake, towards the items. He abruptly disappears as the shore immediately drops away from the surface, and he sinks quickly. Brynn tenses, but as the rope remains slack, he relaxes. Looking back at the rest of the group, he shrugs, a sort of helpless disgruntled look on his face. “Fool Halfling,” he mutters.

As he sinks towards the lake bottom, Tombit realizes that the shiny objects must be closer to the surface. He moves to kick his way upward; only to get entangled in what appears to be kelp. Kelp that moves contrary to the water, on its own accord, entwining around the Halfling’s limbs. Tombit struggles against the weeds, kicking and tearing at the grasping plant. “Oops.” 

“Holding my breath is the easy part. I wonder which will give up the hold first though – my breath, or these weeds?” Stopping his struggles a moment to ponder this, he realizes that what holds him is not kelp, but the tentacles of some large creature. “Oh, bother.” His struggles begin in earnest. “That’s it, I’m swearing off seafood.”

On the shore, the waters beginning to roil, the shiny objects Tombit was so intent on disappearing in the resultant whirl of sediment. Brynn feels the rope go taut as Tombit yanks on it from under the water. “You two, get over here! He wants up, but it feels like somethin’ got ‘im.”

Athena and Skylar hurry over to the rope, to help pull the soggy monk up. Daladariel, sensing something else is the matter, focuses on his staff, and releases the Haste spell from within it. The magic cascades over the gathered group, including the submerged Halfling. 

“I’m casting Lower Water!” Genoa shouts, pointing in the vicinity of the tendrils that suddenly emerge from the surface of the water, and as the waters recedes, gasps at the creature revealed. Fully thirty feet across, the thing appears to be a mass of writhing tentacles, with a relieved but still entangled monk in the midst of it. Daladariel steps up, chuckling in glee, as he launches a fireball to the “backside” of the exposed monster. “I **love** that spell!” The resulting blast and wave of heat relaxes the beast’s grasp on Tombit, as he falls twenty feet to the muck below. The monk tries to look dignified as he wipes away the grime covering him; “I meant to do that,” he asserts to no one in particular.

Karazak, seeing his kitty-chew-toy, er, friend Tombit assaulted, leaps at the tentacles in front of him, biting and raking them severely. Daladariel casts Fireball again, but the pea-sized globe encounters a hidden barrier halfway to its destination, and detonates above the party, causing damage to the mage and archer. Skylar’s arrows also deflect off the wall, harmlessly shattering some distance from the creature. 

The tentacles have no problem moving around the wall of force, as they reach out and grab Genoa, crushing the wind from her. The animal companions go into a fury, attacking any tendril they can reach, as Brynn works his way past the wall. He avoids the grasping tentacles, and makes his way into the lakebed to attack the main body of the creature. He is joined by Tombit as the two of them strike at the belly of the beast. The ranger is flung back several times by lashing tendrils, trying to deter his attacks, but he picks himself up from the mire and strides back into battle each time. Tombit artfully dodges any blows directed his way, and continues the assault. Between the damage dealt to the many tentacles by the party, and the repeated blows to its body, the creature eventually succumbs and slumps into death.

Panting heavily, the party’s sense of smell impinges on their awareness, the rotting bog smell upstaged by blood, burnt flesh and hair, and the creature’s stench itself. Like a beached fish too long in a hot sun. By effort of will, and much gulping back of bile, the Companions retain their last meal, and take a literal step back, taking in the scene. 

Athena shakes herself off, and notices several party members bear wounds and burns. She bustles between Daladariel, Brynn and Tombit, closing wounds they only barely remember receiving in the heat of battle, _tsk_’ing the whole time. “You all right then, Tombit? Good. Daladariel, let me take a look at that. Tsk. That’s a nasty burn. Here, this will help. Ahh. Better? Good!” The party members smile at each other as she makes her rounds.

“How long will the water stay away, Genoa?” asks Brynn, nervously eyeing the liquid wall towering above him, as Athena finishes healing his cuts and bruises. He rotates his shoulder, feeling the stiffness and pain subside beneath the warmth of Athena’s hands. 

“Lessee. At least another couple of minutes, I would guess,” comes the reply.

“You *_guess_*?!?”

“Uh huh. We’d better hurry, just in case.”

Brynn and Genoa turn to find Tombit already busy collecting the items spotted before. A finely crafted hammer, of obvious dwarven make, is handed to Brynn, while the masterwork battleaxe and flail are handed to Athena, who carries a Handy Haversack. These are followed by several grime covered gems and gold coins – the early remains of the beast’s previous victims. Other items, more perishable and thus mostly ruined, are left behind. Athena casts prestidigitation to clear the worst of the mud off the party, although the odor lingers in all they wear.

Brynn points towards the woods, when all the party is around him. “Let’s move away from the lake and into the trees again. They might provide some relief from this heat.” Finding a suitable spot under cover of trees, far from the stench of the lake, the group of weary adventurers settles in for a midday nap. Brynn casts about them an Alarm spell, to rouse the party should anything come nearby. Daladariel quickly falls asleep, to reclaim spent spells; his tired body and mind taking no note of his rough bedding amidst decaying leaves. Skylar, having expended no spells, stays awake to watch over the party. Later, Genoa, her devotions done, awakens to takes the second watch, granting Skylar time for reverie. It is upon the druid’s watch that the Alarm spell is audibly triggered. 

Mobile plant creatures surround the party, seeming to emerge from the trees themselves. As before, they seem focused on the elves in the party. Three of the needlemen fall in fast succession to Athena, Tombit and Genoa, before they even draw close. Additional, larger ones take the place of those fallen. 

With a snarl, a hot and frustrated cougar rushes one as it draws near, with Tombit following on his heels. Between the two felinoids, the fourth Needleman is severely mauled but still mobile. It retaliates against its attackers, flinging needles at Karazak. The big cat feels a tremor in his muscles as the poison courses through his body, and yowls his displeasure. 

“Stay close, my friends.” Daladariel releases a Haste spell, and encompasses the party in the magic. Brynn’s obvious pleasure in the spell brings a smile to the mage’s face. “Oh, yeah, I’m a Haste junkie! Come on!” he shouts to the hostile foliage.

Disturbed by his large cat-friend’s reaction to the needles, Tombit is distracted and unable to land a hit against the Needleman. Neither does Karazak, as he stumbles about in his weakened condition. Genoa rushes to their side and attacks the plant creature with her scimitar, anger goading her on. Her animal companion, Timber, shies from combat, and refuses to draw close. Even with obvious wounds leaking abundant amounts of a sap like substance, the Needleman remains standing.

Brynn, his attention focused on more of the creatures arriving, does not see Karazak get injured, and moves away from the camp, looking for more of the creatures. Skylar spies one and fires repeatedly, but the brush obscures the shot. Genoa kills the target she shares with Tombit and Karazak, and looks around for more opponents.

Skylar’s next shots are more accurate, as she lands three staggering attacks on a Needleman emerging right next to Brynn. Feeling the shafts pass next to his head, he turns to shout at her before noticing the dead creature nearby. “Er, nice shot!” he shouts to her. Turning back, he spies movement and rushes to engage, only to be hit multiple times by a hidden assailant, his blood flowing freely from multiple wounds. His dwarven constitution makes short work of the poison, but the wounds themselves weaken him anyway. A surprised “Oof,” is his only comment.

“Oh no you don’t! HiiiiYAH!” Tombit’s small but skilled hands whip out and land a killing shot as his opponent turns to flee. “Meow!” he says in satisfaction. Daladariel nervously scans the surrounding woods, but sees nothing he can safely target other than his friends. He declines to take the shot. 

Genoa moves up to Tombit as yet another creature emerges from the trees. “Where are all these coming from?” Tombit, busily watching the surrounding foliage, looks at her and shrugs, and looks back as he hears another crashing through the plants before him. He dodges away from Genoa’s wild scimitar swing towards the creature, and back into the fray, barely acknowledging her embarrassed, “Sorry”. He’s beaten to the punch as Daladariel sends several Magic Missiles into his target, but gets his chance to strike as the plant creature tries to retreat. 

Across the clearing, Brynn rains down several mighty blows upon his attacker, cutting open gashes that weep sap like blood. Several arrow shafts appear in its chest, sent by Skylar. Brynn glances over his shoulder to see the elf archer raising her bow in triumph overhead. “&%*^ elf, taking my kills.” He grumbles, not really upset, as he looks for another target. “Two can play *that* game, *_mumble, grumble_*.” He sheathes his swords and draws his bow, keen eyes trying to pierce the foliage around him.

Tombit leaps at the fleeing Needleman, and tackles it to the ground, narrowly avoiding the poison needles that cover its body. Karazak takes the opportunity to retreat and lick his wounds, whimpering from the venom still in his body. “Hold still, you walking lumber stack,” Tombit cries, struggling with the creature beneath him. Abruptly, those struggles intensify as Daladariel fires empowered Magic Missiles into it, and Tombit is pierced multiple times by foot long needles. Genoa rushes to the Halfling’s aid. “Hold still. This.. won’t.. hurt.. a BIT!” the last shouted as her scimitar slips between the monk’s outstretched arms and pierces the Needleman. With a heave, the creature flings off the Halfling, and runs, narrowly avoiding the attacks of opportunity by the two.

“Not taday, ye don’t.” The feathers and nocks of several arrows are all that are seen in the creatures back as it collapses to the ground, dead.

“Awesome shot, Skylar!” Tombit yells.

“A-HEM!”

“Yes, Brynn? Oh. Um. Nice shots, Brynn. Huh? What was that? I couldn’t hear you with all that mumbling you’re doing.” The Halfling wanders over to the corpse, and pokes at the shafts. *_poing, poing_*

Again, Athena is called upon to ply her healing art, as she uses her Caduceus stick to close wounds. Her supply of antidote is exhausted as she pours several vials down the throats of those afflicted by the Needleman poison. “Tsk. We’ll need to stock up on more of those, and soon.”

Nearby, Skylar and her dwarven waraxe begin a discussion. 

“I’m an ARCHER, you dumb hunk o’ metal. Why would I want to wade into combat? I’m perfectly happy with my bow!”

“Listen, girlie. I didn’t get bequeathed to you tae decorate yer backside. I want ACTION. Use me, darn it!”

*Sigh* “All right. If only because I still miss Grimnyr. Even if he was a stodgy dwarf and all…” The axe’s reply is somehow muffled as she slides the weapon into it’s sheathe on her back. She stands up, brushes off the twigs, and wanders over to Tombit, busily checking the bodies of the plant creatures. Her nose wrinkles up in evident disgust as the Halfling buries his arm up to his elbow in the body cavity of one.

“What *are* you doing, furfoot?”

“Yipe! Warn a body when you are sneakin’ up on em! I’m, ah, well, looting. These things are mostly hollow inside, and apparently don’t, er, pass hard objects.” He pulls his arm out, and opens his clenched hand, revealing several tarnished coins and a purple gem. “See?” He holds up his hand, dripping sap, for Skylar to better examine his find. She steps back, catching a whift of fresh Needleman innards, and murmurs a quick, “Urg, that’s okay. Um, good job on finding that stuff..” Under her breath, she finishes, “not that I want to know *how*.”


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## Softwind (Feb 12, 2004)

*Turnip – Root of Evil*

*Session 34 (Oct 03)* _[Part one]_

“All right.  So we’re in th’ middle of a forest turned swamp.  Strange creatures wander th’ woods, and all normal animals are notable in their absence.  The weather is too hot and wet for this time o’ year, and has been for months, accordin’ to th’ folk in town.  The townsfolk are starvin’ but too stubborn tae leave the area. And…“ Brynn lets the word linger in the air, “We have a hermit who may, er may not, be a druid, and may, er may not, be causin’ all this.”  

He looks over the gathered party members.  “So where we go from here?”  The Companions look at each other, thinking their own thoughts.  Athena pipes up, “We need to find out whatever is causing this, and right it, somehow.  It’s your teaching that tells me that.” She nods at Brynn, her mentor in the ways of the ranger.  “It’s just a matter of figuring out where to start.”

Brynn turns to Genoa.  “This is in yer area of expertice.  Since yer a druid, you might know this.  Can a druid cause all this?” His gesture takes in the sky and forest.

“Yyyyyeessss.  Yes, I’d say that it would be within a druid’s power to alter the weather.  Perhaps even call these creatures here.  But,” her voice quavers, almost wailing, “I don’t know wwhhyyyy.  It goes against all I know and hold dear.  All that the man who adopted me, and whom I called father, stood for…” She lapses into silence.  Brynn lays a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “Genoa,” he asks, quieter, “Can you track a druid, if he or she has been in these woods?”

“No.”

“No?” Brynn is surprised.  “Why not?”

“The very same reason you could not track me, if I chose not to leave marks of my passage.  A druid is attuned to all that is natural around her.  If she wishes to leave no trace, she does not.  The same goes for this hermit, whom I believe is a druid as well.  I have seen no evidence of his being here, but his touch is evident on these woods.  That touch is faltering though, as if nothing strengthens it any longer.  Almost as if he has left this area…” She lapses into silence.

“Hunh.  Okay.  We’ll just have to hope we stumble onto where he holed up then.”

“If I may,” Daladariel raises his hand.  “I speak for myself, and perhaps others here, when I request rest.  At least some time to refresh my mind, and memorize spells used recently.”

“Ah, of course, of course.  My apologies, Mage.  Okay, we rest now, and think of how to locate this druid.”  Brynn sets the perimeter for his Alarm spell, and resting his back against a tree, sets watch.  Daladariel lays down to rest, secure in the knowledge that he is watched over.  The hours pass uneventfully, albeit uncomfortably in the heat and humidity.  

While she waits, Genoa decides to cast Speak with Plants, in the hope that the trees may have seen something noteworthy.  Brynn and the animals watch as a noise like wind through leaves comes from her mouth, and a similar sound comes from the tree she speaks to, even as no breeze disturbs the plants.  She whispers “Thank you,” and casts Increased Growth upon the area, to speed recovery.

She returns to Brynn’s side, and discusses what she has learned.  Tombit, Skylar and Athena wander over to listen, while the elven mage remains in his reverie.  Genoa describes the impressions she gathered from the local plant life, of a figure that takes up residence some distance from here, tending the trees.  The trees had not seen this man in some time, but gave Genoa a direction to direct her searches.  The Companions mull this over, and wait on the wizard to “awaken”.

He does so soon, and after refreshing his mind and memorizing spells, indicates readiness to continue. He is filled in on what Genoa has learned, as the party moves southward.  They come up on a rutted road, made by woodcutters and trappers, and follow it some distance before Brynn halts the party.  The dwarf points to marks in the moist soil, his finger following the trail left by something that moved into the shelter of nearby trees – the trail branching at some point, and separating to both sides of the road.

Brynn holds his finger up to his lips, indicating silence, and moves quietly forward, eyes focused on the point where the trail separates.  He follows one branch as it disappears at the base of a tree.  Looking closer, he realizes the tree has two trunks.  He motions for Genoa to join him, and as she does, he whispers, “Can you Speak with Plants that second trunk?” he points.

“Aye.”  Again, the wind-through-leaves sound.  In a moment, the druid’s face is lined in panic.  “All it is interested in is food.”  
“And?”  
“And, we’re on the menu!”
“Wha-?” The rangers further words are cut off as a vine lashes out and latches around his waist, jerking him from his feet and drawing him in.

His party rushes in, attempting to free him and fight off whatever has got a hold of him.  Tombit shimmies up a tree, to look for others that might be hiding in the area.  Athena and Skylar reach the creature, just in time to be attacked by it.  Athena feels her arms pinned to her side, and being lifted into the air.  Skylar receives the broadside of a wooden tendril, knocking her back a step.

“Oh no you don’t!” Tombit yells, as he fires his crossbow into the main body of the creature. His small bolts seem to have minimal affect on the creature as it continues to crush the cleric in its grasp.  “Well, crap!”  He looks around frantically, trying to find anything that might help, and spies a second creature crossing the road towards them.  “Double crap.  Incoming!” he shouts to those below.

“I’m on it… er, as soon as this thing lets go a’ me!” Brynn grunts, trying to bring his blades to bear on his captor.  He succeeds in driving the points into a joint between tendril and trunk, causing the appendage to spasm and dropping him the short distance to the forest floor.  He nimbly ducks beneath the counter-strikes as he heads off the second creature.  He passes Daladariel, who is casting Magic Missile, sending four arcane projectiles towards the first target.  The impact allows Athena to free her arm wielding the mace, and she puts it to good use, smashing it against the creature.

The plant beast turns towards Daladariel, Athena still in its grasp.  Tombit shrugs, and leaps from the tree, landing with claws outstretched.  A quick slash, and he leaps off its “back”, landing in the mire, tumbling aside, dodging the return attack.  Daladariel is not as successful, as he is grappled by the creature, his wind being crushed from him.  “Hurnh! Get *wheeze* this *wheeze* off me!”  Suddenly, a dire wolf appears in front of him, and flashing a wolfy grin, proceeds to do just that; grasping the offending limb in her jaws, the druid-turned-wolf prys it from around the mage.   “Blech,” Genoa tries to spit out the taste of the sap coating her mouth.  She gives the plant creature a dirty look.

“Okay, Grim, here’s your chance.  Yaaah!” Skylar screams as she brings the axe down upon the crown of the second creature, that thus-far Brynn had held at bay.  As the blade bites deep, a colorful flash momentarily illuminates the creature, and its tendrils go limp.  Panting, Brynn looks over at Skylar.  “Is it dead?”

“I’m not sure.”  The elven archer looks at her axe.  “What’d you do?” She only receives a feeling of smugness as her reply.  Skylar looks back at Brynn, and shrugs.  “Beats me.”  She is forestalled by the appearance of Athena at her side, a grim look on her face.  Open-handed, the cleric touches the plant creature, and intones the words of a spell.  “That’s a healing spell,” Skylar thinks, then reconsiders. “No, that’s a healing spell, backwards… an anti-healing spell?  Can she *do*that??”  As the plant creature topples over, killed by the spell, Skylar admits the possibility that Athena can, indeed, “do that.”


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## Softwind (Feb 14, 2004)

*Death to the turnip*

*Session 34 (Oct 03)* [_Part two_]

“Whoa.” Both Skylar and Brynn look at each other, and laugh at the simultaneous reaction. Remembering their situation, and the first creature, they glance over at where the battle started. Tombit stands in triumph on the corpse of the first plant creature, with a relieved Daladariel catching his breath. Genoa flashes her friends a toothy grin as her form shimmers back to her normal dwarven appearance.

“Yer gonna have tae show me how tae do that, someday.” Brynn tells her. A helpless shrug is his only answer. The ranger sheathes his weapons after clearing them of sap, and moves to the side of the first creature. He examines the body, looking for clues to what manner of creature it is. His father never mentioned this type of monster. “Then again, there are a lot of things his son discovered that dad never talked about…” Brynn muses. He is both saddened and filled with pride by that thought. He is jolted from his contemplations by Tombit, bumping against him. “Oop, sorry. Just checking to see if these things have anything on, or in, ‘em. A-ha!” The furry monk holds up a scroll case, pulled from inside the creature’s maw, situated on its “head”. 

 “It nearly choked on that, I believe. That is to say, it would have, had it the chance…” 

“Oh, and what’s this? And that? Oooooo. Pretty.”

 Brynn ruefully shakes his head, and steps away from the distracted Halfling. Thoughts of home pervade his mind, and he wonders if he shall ever see it again. “Bah, look at yerself. Getting all mopey and havin’ yerself a good pity party. Snap to, dwarf!” he says almost angrily to himself. “Ye’ve got friends relying on ya. Focus on them. They all want to go home too.” He looks back to the monk, forces a grin on his face, and asks, “Whatcher got?”, allowing his friend’s exuberance to pull him from his dark mood.

 ***

Night eventually falls as they continue south along the road. They remain cautious, and their rate of travel is slow, as they watch in all directions for potential threats. The only sounds are those they make themselves – no one has sighted any sign of animal life; no birds, squirrels, mice, even lizards. Only the perpetual haze of small insects, harmless, is seen.

 The Companions decide to halt for the night, as several of them have not slept in some time. Watch is separated between them, with a melee type and a caster on each shift. Genoa stays awake most of the night, the magic of her ring requiring only two hours of sleep, and no need for food or drink. She tends the fire, and takes short circular walks around the camp, while most of her friends slumber. She returns to camp as Daladariel is awoken by Athena to take the next watch.

 Half an hour later, Genoa is startled out of her contemplations of the fire by Daladariel’s casting of a spell. Fifty feet from the party, hailstones suddenly appear from a cloudless sky and pelt the trees and ground. As the ice steams in the heat, the mage casts again, this time a Fireball lights up the night.

 “Are you CRAZY?” the druid shouts, as she stands up, races towards the mage, and takes him down with a flying tackle. She struggles with him, trying to pin him down, as he babbles “The trees, the trees! They’re out there… moving…” Genoa remembers the mage’s odd twitch earlier in the day, after the plants attacked. She had dismissed it before, but now it comes rushing back.

She sits back on her haunches, still sitting on the mage, and calls to the party sleeping about the fire. “We might have trouble. Everyone up!”

Brynn rolls and in a flash is on his feet, weapons bared. “Wha?” comes his sleepy question. Genoa wordlessly points the direction of the mage-induced damage, where embers are dying from the wet and humidity. Brynn nods, and trots that direction, senses straining for anything out of place. Skylar, coming out of reverie quickly, follows a distance behind, bow drawn. As she passes over the roadway, the ground beneath her crumbles, and she disappears into the ground.

 “No!” Genoa is startled by the shout, and sees Athena running across the road, to the point where the archer disappeared. The gnome goes to her knees, peering over the edge of the hole in the ground. She spots a tunnel leading towards the camp, and hears the sound of the archer cursing coming from it. “Hang on Skylar!” Athena calls. She debates dropping into the hole to follow, when a rumble is felt behind her. Another hole opens up, closer to the camp, and Skylar’s voice can be heard, strongly shouting invectives at her captor.

 Brynn comes up beside her, and calls to the animals to join him. Karazak snarls, obviously displease with Brynn’s command, but leaps to the floor of the hole, and enters the tunnel. Brynn slides in, the moist earth at the bottom cushioning his fall, and follows Karazak. Timber circles the edge, whimpering, glancing back at Genoa, still in camp, and back into the hole. He is torn between joining the ranger and his cat (both of which Timber has a strong connection to) and rejoining Genoa (with whom he has a stronger connection). Athena leaves the dire wolf with that puzzle as she stands up and hurries to the new hole. At the edge, Athena can see Skylar, gripped in the leafy topnotch of… a giant turnip. With a maw filled with wooden teeth; several of which are chewing on Skylar.

“Now then, that’s enough of THAT,” she states, and leaps down on top of the creature, mace in hand. “Ungh, glad you could make it,” Skylar states matter-of-factly, pain creasing her brow. “Mind helpin’ me out here?” Skylar pulls back her bowstring; arrow loaded, she fires into the maw engulfing her foot and lower leg. The reaction is immediate, and more painful than the elf expected. The mouth bites down HARD. Trying hard to ignore the screams of her friend, Athena brings her mace down on the turnips top, making a pulpy mess of several of the “leaves”. The next swing misses as the creature twists in the hole, almost unseating her.

Emerging from the trees, with rope in hand, Tombit runs towards the hole housing the turnip and his friends. A length of line plays out behind him as he launches himself into the air, dropping in on the creature. The original plan of having Skylar haul herself out via the rope is dashed when the monk notices how little of the archer is still visible. To his consternation, she is rapidly being swallowed by the walking root vegetable.

“Mama Pithopper always said, ‘Tombit, eat yer vegetables’, but I don’t *ever* remember her finishing that sentence with, ‘or your vegetables may eat *you*’.” Anything further he might have said is cut short by a nimble leaf/tendril attacking him. As he squirms, further branches are lent to the fray, including the one keeping Skylar in the maw. She takes advantage of this lapse, and calling upon the powers of the Cloak of the Bat, rockets straight up in bat form. With her new senses, she “sees” Genoa altering shape into a dire wolverine and diving into the first hole. Wanting to put some distance between the turnip and herself, Skylar flies straight up into the sky, slowing only to make a quick meal of some of the ever-present flying insects. “Ew, yuch! Did I just do what I think I did? On second thought, I don’t want to think about it…”

 From the edge of the hole, Daladariel casts Enervation on the creature, the sickly green-black ray emerging from his fingertip and striking the turnip at the base of its topknot. Unable to reach the mage to retaliate, it does the next best thing, and shoves Athena into its maw. The cleric shrieks as the teeth puncture her in several places, reducing her health drastically. She dimly senses another presence nearby as it fills her with healing energy, bringing her back from the brink. She doesn’t have time to ponder this new development as the turnip continues to swallow her.

Genoa, her wolverine form adept at digging, widens the tunnel the creature made, emerging underneath the turnip. There, she sinks her razor-sharp teeth into its pulpy flesh. Timber, whimpering the whole way, follows her, and also bites the unnatural vegetable. On the rim of the hole, Daladariel casts an empowered Magic Missile, the arcane bolt tearing great rents in the monster. Brynn, seeing an opportunity to act, dives into the hole, much like Tombit, but with both blades bared in front of him. The impact drives both swords up to the hilt into the creature. With a shudder, the turnip dies, its tendrils relaxing their grip on the monk and cleric.

As Brynn sets about pulling Athena from the corpse, with Genoa’s digging claws helping, the three of them sense that a heretofore unnoticed feeling of oppression has lifted. In unison, they sigh in relief. At the odd looks from the mage, monk, and warrior, Brynn, Genoa and a freed Athena just smile at each other. The smile turns into chuckles as Tombit, ever curious, checks the body for loot. At the Halfling’s exclamation, “This stinkin’ critter doesn’t have Anything!” they burst out laughing.


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## Softwind (Feb 19, 2004)

*Lots of death, followed by a small salad*

*Session 35 (Nov 03)* 

With much of the night still to pass, the Companions bed down again. Genoa casts Nature’s Rampart, enshrouding the party in an easily defensible barrier of moats and earthworks. Thus reassured, she settles into a patch of somewhat dry leaves, and slips into sleep.

Daladariel stays up, both to finish out his interrupted shift, and because he nervously anticipates the next ‘tree attack’. His incessant muttering of “the trees, the trees. They’re out there, the trees,” keeps Skylar from dropping into reverie, so she contents herself by taking watch with the distraught mage. 

“Rather nervous fellow, isn’t he?” her battleaxe comments.

“Hush, Grim. Leave the poor man alone. He’s not used to the adventuring life, yet. Give him some time, I’m sure he’ll grow accustomed to the things we take for granted.”

“Yer assumin’ he lives long enough…”

“That’s enough, Grim! Now hush, and let me listen. We don’t want any more surprises.” To her surprise, the axe falls silent. 

“Skylar?”

“Yes, Daladariel?”

“You see that movement over there?”

Skylar looks into the night, the direction the wizard points. “Rather dark. Hard to see anything. What did you see?”

Without answering, the wizard loads his crossbow with a bolt, and casts “Light” upon it. In the glow of the enchanted projectile, he sees Skylar’s eyebrow raise, as she indicates the crossbow.

“Erm, Gotien, my master, suggested there are times that magic will not be the answer. He taught me some basics with this weapon. It seems as good a time as any to use it. Now, let’s lighten up the area.” He fires the bolt into a tree some distance away, the golden glow it emits revealing a patch of ground and undergrowth.

“There *was* something there, I swear to you.”

“I believe you. In this place, anything is possible. Trees walking, vegetables eating you….” She rubs at the faint scars on her leg. “I’ll be glad when this is done, and we can get back to a normal forest.”

“I much prefer a library myself… Wait! There!” With a few quick syllables, he launches a sickly green bolt of energy, striking a darker shadow lingering near the light-enchanted bolt. At the shadows inhuman shriek, he shouts a warning to the sleeping party, and prepares to cast again.

Genoa, awoken by the first casting, and prepared to tackle the mage again if he launched another fire-based spell into the woods, damp or no damp, instead turns her attention to rousing her party upon hearing the mage’s cry of alarm. As she moves from person to person, Skylar fires several arrows into the darkness, hearing a satisfying Thunk as they hit her target. Brynn calls the animals to himself, and runs with them to engage the enemy, now revealed in the flickering light.

Before he can reach this latest threat, the air fills with an orange mist that sears at his throat and burns his eyes and nose. Brynn coughs, sucking in more of the tainted air, and narrowly avoids collapsing into a retching ball. His dwarven constitution fights to purge him of the toxin, as he pulls in more with each breath. The animals fare no better, rubbing at tearing eyes, crying piteously with discomfort. Loyal to their friends, however, they stay by Brynn’s side, and follow him as he makes his way to the source of the cloud.

“Plants, plants, it’s always PLANTS in this place…” The orange cloud briefly parts before him, and he sees the source of the nauseating gas. A floating squid shaped mobile compost heap is the first thing that comes to mind. Brynn isn’t sure if the stench emanating from its location is the smell of the forest-turned-swamp, the orange gas, or the creature itself. 

“Either way,” he grunts, “Time to take out the trash.” With a yell, and a barely suppressed cough from the intake of the gas, he brings his long sword and short sword into play, slashing the creature several times. Taking their cue from him, both animals leap into the fray. Under the combined assault of all three, the creature is killed. Stepping back, as the orange mist dissipates; Brynn can see the arrow shafts and acid marks marring the surface of the creature. “A joint effort. Ah well, we still did our fair share, didn’t we lads?” He scratches Karazak behind his ears. And his world becomes painful again, as a green cloud overtakes his position.

Whereas before, the gas merely irritated sensitive parts, this cloud sizzles with menace as it starts dissolving soft materials. Exposed skin, leather, cloth – even his beard begins to fail against this attack. “Not. Me. BEARD!” he shouts. “Now ye’ve made me mad!” Using the pain of his dissolving skin to fuel his anger, he casts one of his few spells to form a wall of wind, giving him respite from the acid. The animals, blinded by the pain, stumble about, crying for surcease from the pain.

At the camp, Daladariel casts Invisibility upon himself, gibbering about walking plants. Tombit rushes to a nearby tree and scales it, hiding behind the wilted leaves. Genoa casts Gust of Wind, and directs it to clear a pathway to the creature in the distance; a creature with every appearance of being a giant Venus flytrap. While she clears some of the area, those around her are not so lucky, as the cloud continues to spread, engulfing the party members, subjecting them to the acid.

Athena stumbles away from the direction of the creature, and manages to leave the cloud as well. Daladariel is not so lucky in escape, and becomes badly injured by it, finding healing potions just in time. Eyes squeezed mostly shut, Tombit spends a few moments burying his prized treasures – the “boogieman” hair, his cat hat, and his bone dice - in a convenient spot of mud before making his way out of the acid cloud.

By following the cries of the animals, Skylar locates Brynn’s Wall of Air, and in so doing, is able to lead the animals to its relative safety as well. She spots Brynn just as he steps back into the noxious fumes, heading for their source. From outside the perimeter of the cloud, Genoa casts a Wall of Wind as well, stretching it towards the creature, providing a corridor of clean air. Through the mists, she sees Brynn stagger into the area, straighten up, and move quickly in the direction the Maneater was last seen. Upon his heels, Karazak follows, his once-proud coat mottled by acid burns.

“Wind’s messin’ up my direction sense. You know where it is, boy?”
The mountain lion puts his nose in the air, sniffing the wind, but is unable to reliably track the scent of the monstrous plant creature. He growls in frustration, and looks to Brynn for directions. The ranger strokes the cat’s head, in sympathy and understanding. “That’s alright, boy, you tried. We’ll just have tae do this by trial-n-error.” Further words are forestalled when Genoa steps into the corridor, followed by Timber. “This end’s getting’ kinda crowded, methinks.”

The druid nods agreement. “Best I figure, the creature is still that way*” She points. “My Wall will last a bit longer. Let’s use it to find that thing!”

“Cough, cough. I agree.” Daladariel staggers, almost tripping, into the cleared space, his clothing (or what’s left of it) hanging in rags about his body. The mage’s skin is ruddy red, and in some places bleeding sluggishly. Brynn has to move quick to get under him as he almost faints. “Hey there, lad, don’ be doing that noo. Genoa, can you? Ah, Athena. ATHENA. Quick, the mage needs your help!”

Athena, herself not looking too well, lays hands upon the wizard, and watches in satisfaction as his color improves, and his acid-induced abrasions heal. Daladariel regains his feet, with a quick “Thank you” to both cleric and ranger. The winds whip away the last of his robe, leaving him bare to the world. He makes no note of this as he scans the area, looking for a target to cast on. He doesn’t have to wait long before vines reach out from the cloud beyond, into the clear area, and wrap themselves around his waist, and around Brynn and Genoa.


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## Softwind (Feb 24, 2004)

*After dinner mint*

*Session 35 (Nov 03)* [_part two of three_]

“All Right! Some action! C’mere, you!” Brynn shouts, brandishing his blades, whipping them down to sever the encroaching vines. His blades bite deep, but do not cut the limb in two. A thick sap coats his blade, making it difficult to recover from the wound. “Leggo! Ooo, that’s nae good.” Brynn stares at the trio of “heads” poking in from the Wall. Shaped like oversized flowerbuds, the interior lined with spikes and teeth, they rapidly approach the held adventurers.

“Hiiii YAH!” Tombit shouts as he leaps out of the gas and on top of the plant creature. His adamantine claws rake huge gashes on one of the heads, causing it to jerk back, almost unseating him. “Wheee! Ride em, cow cat! Mrow!” The Halfling monk cheers on Karazak and Timber as they savage the creature with tooth and claw, and pauses to admire the archer’s accurate shots placing three crackling arrows in tight formation on one of the heads. The resulting blast of electricity leaves not more than a stump where a head once sat.

“I’ll see your three, and raise you two more!” Daladariel chants and five Magic Missiles impact on a second head. While not as flashy, they get the job done, as the ruin of the second head slumps, mostly severed from the stalk. “Not bad, mage, not bad.” 

Athena swings her mace and scimitar against the remaining head, and grimaces at the “squish” noise her mace makes upon impact. Plant sap spurts like blood, covering her in sticky fluid. “Ewww… ah, it burns! Don’t let it get on you!” She tries to wipe off the fluid before it eats its way further into her flesh and armor, while keeping her guard up against a counterstrike.

Genoa’s scimitar prevents the Maneater from reacting, as she lops off the last head. The plant creature shudders and slumps, its tendrils releasing the erstwhile captives. As the Wind Wall fades away into undirected zephyrs, the party realizes the acid gas too is dissipating. Waiting a moment for the last of the fumes to blow away, the Companions look each other over. Red, raw flesh greets their gaze. With Daladariel and Tombit, every inch is visible, their clothing not having survived the depredations of the acid. The rest fared little better, as undergarments and clothes shred at the lightest touch. Any non-magical bone, wood, leather, or lesser metal is either totally destroyed, or weakened so much as to be useless.

The land about them is not spared either. Sobs are pulled from the druid and rangers’ throats as they see the damage dealt to the plants, already suffering under hostile conditions. Every plant within sixty feet is bare of leaf and in some cases bark, dooming them all to a quick demise. A gray ash sludge mark all that is left of once living material. 

Genoa immediately begins to repair what damage she can, as Tombit races to where he buried his treasures. With the cat hat firmly placed on his head once more, his nakedness is covered by the cat illusion it generates. He wraps the boogie man hair around his waist, and ties the dice therein. 
Daladariel, having lost all but his magic staff, borrows a blanket from a party member to clothe himself. Athena busies herself, tending to wounds and acid burns, ignoring her own injuries until everyone else is healed.

Brynn stands, resting his hands upon the animals’ heads. He stares at the corpse of the creatures, one with every appearance of a squid composed of plant material, and the other, a giant Flytrap. “These cannot be natural. At least, not in any forest *I’m* aware of…” Brynn shakes his head. “I’m thinkin’ we really need to find that druid.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Genoa walks up to Brynn, following his gaze. “I’ve been on edge since we got here. This place screams for Balance to be restored. No wonder Aranthea could feel this, even in Everlund. But,” she looks sideways at Brynn, “did you feel the change, when that vegetable thing died? The shift has started. These,” waving at the corpses before them, “are the last gasps. In time, this forest will thrive again.”

“I hope so, Genoa.”

“I *know* so, Brynn. C’mon. Tombit’s eager to show us the fruits of our labor, so to speak.”

“From what I can figure,” Tombit tells the gathered party, “Is that these things are migratory. At least, that’s all I can think of to explain these…” Before him, laid out for easy viewing, are several items, many of which show attempts to clean them up a bit. The Companion’s eyes widen as they see what has been collected; a silver hair comb inset with hematites, an amethyst-jeweled electrum ring, a pendant crafted of silver, fire opals and sapphire chips, a wand of magical power (black with a spiderweb-patterned cracks) a ceramic potion vial (determined to be lesser restore) and an ivory scroll case, with a blindness spell inscribed therein.

“Wow.” The rest of the party agrees with the sentiment. For a moment, they admire the collection, before Tombit scoops it all up and places it into the Bag of Holding at Genoa’s waist. “Right, then. Who’s up for some lunch? We can probably make it back to Sumpter in time for a meal.” Silence meets this pronouncement. “What?”

“Tombit,” Athena begins, then stops, pondering how to remind the Halfling, gently, that the town is starving. “Unless you have some food on your person, we’re going to probably be on lean rations for a few days. Also, we still haven’t found the Druid that more than likely caused all this.”

“Huh?”

Brynn shoulders forward, and gets into Tombit’s face. “No pies. Need to find druid”

*Gasp* “No pies? Nooooooo.” The party clamps their hands to their ears. 

“TOMBIT!” The wailing stops. “First we find the druid. Then we get some food. Genoa probably has some o’ those berries,” he makes a face, “left over. Until we find something else, they’ll have to do. No offence, Genoa.”

“None taken. I know you’d rather toss back mead than a berry. Actually, after several days of them, I wouldn’t mind that either. But, until this area recovers, it’s not going to happen. Between the weeks of bad weather, and the villagers’ depredations, there is not much left. I’ve helped where I could, but it will take more than just one druid to repair this damage quickly.” She hastens to add, “But to hurry the recovery is also against the Balance. Time and the Green’s own power will return this area to the way it was.”

“I agree. Now, if I were a druid, where would I make camp in these woods?”

“Hmm. Since I *am* a druid... let me think. Now, the townsfolk said the hermit, Drylle, had accosted them when they went to fish, to collect firewood, and when they hunted the wild game that used to live here. Most of the time, they would meet him in the southwest parts of the forest surrounding the town. Right now, we’re west of the town, but not so much south. I’d say, follow the road a few miles, and then head into the woods that lie between the stream and the road. Easy access to all points of the forest from there.” She finishes, smugly.

“Ah. And was there a reason we *didn’t* think this through when we first started looking?”

“A-ummm. We were busy fighting for our lives?” she asks, sheepishly.

“Huh.” Brynn turns around, and starts following the road leading to the south, causing the rest of the party, amusedly watching the discussion, to hurriedly grab their gear and catch up. As the sun rises, their pace slows. Brynn, Genoa and Athena scan the surrounding brush, sensing something in the area. The party leaves the road, walking along a game trail, until they see a clearing in the trees ahead. In the small opening between the trees, they spot a lean-to, fashioned from deadwood, moss, and ivy, which blends so well into the surroundings that the non-druid/ranger types are completely oblivious. That is, until the three point it out to them.

Still within the cover of the trees, they discuss the best approach. While the small firepit looks unused in more than a week, it may be due to lack of need, especially in the heat. The lean-to’s opening faces them, and no one is seen inside, but the Companions are willing to take their time and play it safe. “If this hermit is the druid that has been causing the weather changes, and who attracted the plant creatures here, he is not to be considered a trivial opponent,” Daladariel comments.

“Assuming he *is* an opponent, and not just mixed up in this whole affair in some other fashion,” comments Genoa, but even she is not convinced of that. It troubles her that one who had dedicated his life to the preservation of the balance in the Green could do so much damage. She remembers Hall, in the Valley she called home, and shivers.

“I’ll just sneak over there, quiet as a mou.. er, cat.” Tombit volunteers.

“And I’ll be watchin’ yer back, me and Karazak.” Brynn replies.

The three creep forward, eyes fixed on the lean-to, while the remainder of the group retreats a few paces from the clearing. Far enough back to aid in remaining hidden, but not too far that they cannot leap to assist if needed. They watch, weapons readied, as the trio makes their way slowly across the clearing. When first encountered, it had been a small area between the trees, but now seemed like a large open meadow. They hold their breath as Brynn and Tombit near the lean-to.

Genoa suddenly shouts, “Wait. Don’t move.” 

Brynn holds out both arms, to ward off Tombit and Karazak, as he looks over his shoulder at the druid. “There is *something* not right about where you were going to step. Something to do with the trees nearby… *gasp* It’s a trap.”


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## Softwind (Feb 24, 2004)

*Root and loot*

*Session 35 (Nov 03)* [_part three of three_]

“Come again?” Tombit asks.

“Drylle apparently set up a deadfall, with the trigger right here.” Brynn points, first at a patch of ground, and then follows a barely seen cord from that spot up into the trees, where a log is precariously perched. Kneeling, Brynn cuts the line, disabling the trigger. “Good job Genoa.”

Cautiously, the trio works their way to the lean-to, and steps inside, although Karazak declines to enter the small structure. Inside, Brynn pokes at the pile of leaves, straw, and cloth bedding on the ground, using the sheathed end of his long sword. When no plagues occur, or traps are sprung, he becomes bolder. Pulling back the blanket off the rough wood frame bed, he spies a small satchel and some relatively fresh dirt. While Tombit jumps at the chance to rummage through the sack, Brynn uncovers a wooden box in the newly dug floor, and takes the box out of the lean-to. Setting it on the ground, he opens it. And then realizes that opening it without checking it over could be a mistake.

Nothing untoward occurs, however, and he bends to the task of investigating the contents. Two items are found within – a light shirt apparently made from leaves, made to go under other clothing, and a rod of some sort. He looks up from his find to see Tombit chuckling as small gemstones run through his fingers and back into the small bag he holds. Brynn watches for a moment, before commenting, “You know, that’s not ours. All we came here for was tae determine if this hermit Drylle is a druid, one able tae change the weather an all. You’d best put that back. This too…” He hands Tombit the box, causing him to drop the sack. Coins and gems scatter across the grass. As Tombit and Brynn put the contents back into the sack, there is a disturbance from the edge of the woods. In the next moment, they are startled by a small reptilian shape ducking between them, grasping the sack in its claws, and flying up and over the trees.

“Dal! Where’s Cobalt going with that?” Tombit shouts to the mage, whose familiar has just taken the loot *he* was going to take.

“Best guess? Back to our cell at the Wizards Guild. I do believe he’s got quite the stash.”

“What? Call him back…” Tombit’s words trail off as he sees the mage slowly shaking his head.

“He’s got a mind of his own. One of the agreements I made with him was to allow him a certain amount of my funds for his own. Being a student mage, I didn’t earn much. I guess he’s decided now is a good time to collect. Sorry.”

Brynn is disgruntled. “I didnae come here tae steal. For all we know, Drylle will return shortly…” 

Genoa begins shaking her head, as she walks towards the monk and ranger. “No, I don’t believe he will be returning…”

“Why’s that?”

“One, his grove is returning back to the Green. No will shapes it. So he’s either released his influence voluntarily, or he’s died. Two, I found this,” she holds up parts of a wooden stave, carved with a leaf motif, but broken, or rather*bitten*, in two, “near that turnip-thing we killed yesterday.” She tosses them to the ground. “It was a druid’s staff. I can tell. A bit of Drylle’s essence suffuses it. Or did. It’s fading now, almost gone.” She looks up at Brynn, catching his eye. “He’s gone, returned to the Green.”

“Well, perhaps he has relatives…” Brynn protests.

“If he did, how would we find them? Do we know Drylle is his real name? Is he from here? No, Brynn, I say this time, we claim his belongings. If someone asks for them later, we turn them over. Until then, we use them. Especially *that*,” she says, pointing to the garment in the now-open box in Tombit’s hands. “I’ve really hoped I’d find one of these on our travels. My father spoke of one often.”

“That frail thing? It’s a tunic of leaves. What good is it?”

“This is called druid’s vestments. It’s a magical item that allows a druids’ wildshaping ability to be extended.” She pulls on the tunic, and twirls around for effect. Brynn begrudgingly admits it looks somehow *right* when worn by the druid.

Daladariel spots the other item left in the box, a rod or wand of some sort. He casts Detect Magic, and determines that it is magical in nature. “And I, I will study this item. Perhaps it can be put to good use…” His smile does not waver as Brynn sighs heavily, throws up his hands, and walks away.

“Let’s head to town, and then Karazak and I will forage, for us, and for the town. There has to be something here, somewhere. When we left some days ago, they were near to starving.”

“Oooh, can you look for berries? It’s been days since I’ve had pie…” Tombit looks wistful.

Genoa lays a hand on Tombit’s shoulder. “If I can find any berries, ripe or past season, I should be able to craft something with my magic.”

“Berry pie?” The Halfling’s furry face looks hopeful.

Genoa laughs, and then sobers. “Tombit, if you could eat a pie of Goodberries, I’ll eat my new vest. Each berry should be as a full meal.”

“Full meal for *you*, maybe. It would probably be just a snack for me…”

“We shall see…”

***

The Companions travel back to Sumpter, like returning champions, albeit dirty, scarred, battered and bruised ones. They find that conditions have not improved in the few days they have been gone, save for the absence of attacks from plant creatures. 

Many of the villagers are too weak to do more than smile when the news is told of the clearing of the threat from the surrounding woods. The smiles get broader as Brynn and Karazak, returning from foraging, bring several messes of fish. The stew prepared from the fish, while not a gourmet meal, helps revive flagging spirits and strengthen limbs. The party stays a few days to make sure everyone at the village will recover. Before they leave, the thankful village elders gift the party with some of the little they have to give.

The handful of coins are refused, but the party does agree to take some of the woolen garments and locally brewed ale, one for the recently denuded to wear, the other to make the miles back to Everlund pass quickly. When they are once more on the Everlund Pass road, they consider themselves fortunate to catch a ride on a passing wagon. The wagon driver, at first suspicious of their motives, quickly warms to them as they agree to buy some of his goods destined for Bell Market in Everlund.

Brynn stares at the bar in his hands. “What do I need with *soap*? Especially *scented* soap?!?”

Tombit sniffs delicately. “Because, friend dwarf, you, I and all our party smell of rotting vegetables, dirt, acid, and mold. We call *al* use a bath, and this is just the thing for it!” He tosses the bar into the air, catches it, and scampers off before the ranger can take a swing at him.

“I’ll show you smelly… *sniff* Hmm, he might have a point there…”


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## Softwind (Feb 26, 2004)

*Clean, and work*

*Session 36 (Nov 03)* _[Part one]_

With a final creak and bump, the farmer’s wagon pulls into the large square that makes up the Everlund Bell Market.  From there, it is a short walk for the party to return to their rooms at the Scowling Orc.  Baths are called for, and the inn staff is kept busy running for hot water, towels, and scouring rushes.  

“Aaaah,” Brynn sighs as he sinks a little further into his tub.  “Now that’s nice.”  He looks over at Tombit.  “C’mon in, cat.”

Tombit eyes the tub warily, his whiskers twitching as he watches the steam gently rising from the hot water within.  He moves closer, and dips a hand it, pulling it out quickly.  “Hot!” he scowls at Brynn.

“Nae more so than a few steps back from a dwarven forge.  Jus’ jump right in…” Brynn leans back, then sits bolt upright as a wave of water from the other tub splashes over him.  Glowering, he looks at the Halfling, who, upon taking his advice, had done just that.  Looking like a drowned rat, his cap still firmly on his head, Tombit splashes about in the tub, deciding that the hot water is indeed nice, and the scented soap from the merchant is *just* the thing to ease his acid-burned skin.

“Foolish Halfling,” Brynn grumbles, but the hot water soon eases his irritation at Tombit, and he sinks back into the tub.  Idly he sniffs the bar of soap, then checking to see if the Halfling is watching, proceeds to scrub with it.  “Ah, that is nice,” he thinks, just before he hears snickering from the other tub.  Glancing over, he sees Tombit amusedly watching him, water dripping from whiskers raised in a smile.  “Bah, I were just testin’ it tae see if it’s good enough tae use.  It’s too flower-y, and not strong enough.” As Tombit chuckles, Brynn chucks the soap at him, which the monk easily dodges.

They concentrate on finishing their baths as the water cools, and are toweling off as a knock is heard at their door.  In the hall outside, Genoa and Athena wait for the men to open the door.  Athena wrings a few stray drops of water from her hair absently as they listen to the tumult inside.  “They must have spent more time in the tubs than we did.  I didn’t think either Brynn or Tombit would even take a bath, to be honest.” 

Genoa giggles.  “Brynn is more comfortable in a mountain spring with a tree limb, and I think Tombit, uh, licks himself clean?” She looks over to Athena quizzically, and they both chuckle.  When the door opens, the ladies look at the still-dripping ranger and monk, and burst out laughing.  Brynn’s puzzled, “What?” just adds fuel to the flame as the two ladies lean against each other for support, gales of laughter weakening their knees.

“Gah, women,” mutters Brynn as he and Tombit wait for the two to catch their breath.  When the laughter subsides, Athena and Genoa wipe tears from their eyes and stand up straight, facing the men.  Between giggles, Genoa asks, “I’m returning to the Green Hall for awhile, and Athena has it in mind to pick up Ogre as a language.  We were wondering what activity you two would be putting yourselves towards?”  

Tombit points back in the room, towards the patch of sunlight beneath the window.  Brynn chuckles, and tells Genoa, “I’ll join ye, lass.  I’ve got much to talk to the Druidess about, methinks.  Those… creatures… disturbed me.  I’d like to learn more about ‘em if’n I could, in case we go against them agin.”  He reaches back into the room, and belts his swords about his waist.  “Asides, Karazak n I need some time tagether that don’ involve fightin’.  Perhaps we’ll head outa town, and grab us some prey out in the fields.”

Brynn finishes getting ready, and joins the ladies as they head downstairs.  “Where’s Skylar?” Brynn asks as they cross the common room.  “Wasn’t she with you?”

Genoa waves her hand in dismissal.  “Last we saw, she and Gotien had their heads together discussing some spell or another that she wants to learn.  She stopped in the room only for a quick clean up, and rushed out the door.  Down to the Mages Guildhall, most likely.”

Athena agreed.  “Ever since she’s discovered the Art runs in her blood, she’s become more torn with the direction she wants to take.  She is a doughty fighter, very good with that bow she uses.  The addition of Grimnyr’s Beard to her arsenal made me think she was going to be concentrating on her melee abilities.  Then she picks up a smattering of spells.  *Sigh*  Poor woman.  Still, she seems happy enough.  Perhaps her desire to adventure really is her calling.  I don’t think the life of a merchant would have suited her, after all,” Athena tapers off, recalling the first time the party met the archer.  Sole survivor of a caravan bound for the tri-cities, Skylar seemed to have taken her survival as a challenge to constantly increase her abilities in all ways related to combat.

Outside the Scowling Orc, Athena parts ways with Genoa and Brynn, as she heads towards one of the guard barracks.  “If anyone here would know the language of the Ogres, it would be the town militia,” she reasons.  After asking around, she finds a few guards just going off duty that know a smattering of the language.  For the price of a few ales to wet their throats, and the company of the lovely gnome (Athena blushes), they will teach her as much as they can.

Outside Everlund, amidst the tall trees of the Green Hall, Genoa and Brynn, with their companions Timber and Karazak, allow the peace of the grove to lift their concerns from their shoulders.  Sighing contentedly, they follow the game trails to the Hall in the midst of the copse.  
Several people wander about in the open air, talking in quiet tones or just resting in contemplation.  After a quick scan reveals that the druidess is not present, Brynn and Genoa wander over to join conversations already in progress.  Timber and Karazak, with their friend’s blessings, pad over to the small pond to the side of the Hall, and drink their fill.  The two lay down for a rest, idly watching the goings on.  Taking advantage of the calm, they nod off into naps, assured that if anything untoward occurs, their friends will awaken them.

The quiet is shattered sometime later by the ringing of the Bell Market’s namesake.  Timber and Karazak return to their friend’s sides as Brynn and Genoa try to ascertain why the alarm is sounding.  Assured that the druids and rangers in the Grove will be able to handle whatever comes their way, the two rush back to the town, looking for their Companions, leaving their animals at the Hall.  

At a local bar, Athena’s lessons are disrupted as the bell rings out.  Her teachers abruptly stand up, buckling on weapons, asking Athena to return to her inn room.  “It’ll be too dangerous for you, citizen,” they state.  Athena remains seated as they leave the tavern, then stands up and scurries after them, intent on not loosing them in the sudden commotion on the streets.  Vendors are hurriedly closing shops as townsfolk rush back home, or other locations.

Within the Guild Hall, Skylar looks up from the book she was intently studying.  Her head cocked to one side, she strains to hear sounds from outside the quiet hall.  Daladariel, sensing her break in studies, looks up inquiringly.  “Skylar, you must concentrate or you will not be able to master this spell…” he begins to admonish, before her body language stops him.  He too listens, his face hardening in disquiet as he recognizes the sound that so captured Skylar’s attention.  “Oh dear,” he murmers.

Skylar turns to him, questions plainly visible in her face.  Daladariel turns to her, and without preamble, explains. “We are under attack.  The Bell Market warning bell is only used when all of the cities’ forces need to defend the walls.  All citizens are advised to clear the streets, or take up arms if part of the volunteer militia.  We shall wait it out here, in the safety of the Guild hall.” He turns back to his book, but hearing Skylar getting up, glances over to her, “Skylar, what are you doing?”

Skylar stops rebuckling her weapon belts for a moment, looking at the mage.  “My friends are out there.  I do not believe they will sit idly by, whether they are militia or no.  I’ve got to join them.  Will you come, new to our Company as you are?”  She holds out a hand to him.

Daladariel sighs, and looks longingly in the direction of his cell, and that of the Guildmaster Gotien’s.  After a pause, and a deep breath, grasps the offered hand and pulls himself up with her assistance.  “I will join you shortly.  For a century, Everlund has been my home.  I believe it to be my duty now to assist in its defense.  First though, I need to speak with Gotien.”  Her eyes dancing at the thought of the upcoming combat, Skylar implores the mage to hurry, crowing “We’re gonna go Keel stuff!”  Daladariel just rolls his eyes, and sighs.

Skylar emerges onto the street just as Athena is passing by.  “Ho, Athena,” Skylar calls out, stopping the cleric in her tracks.  Athena walks over, but her gaze stays facing the backs of the departing guards.  Without turning her head, she asks “Are you also heading for the wall?”

Following her gaze, seeing the militia moving towards the north of town, Skylar confirms her friend’s question with a grin.  “New friends,” she asks, pointing with her thumb towards the guards.  “Uh huh.  Those nice men were teaching me Ogre.  We were just getting past ‘Me want food’ and ‘Me want bash’ and learning about names for stuff. *Sigh*  I want to make sure those guys are okay…”

Skylar nods.  “I’ll join you.  That way, I can help you, and keel stuff at the same time!”  Athena flashes her a quick smile, then half-pleading, asks “Can we then hurry?  I don’t want to lose them.”  

“Yes! Come!”  The two hustle after the backs of the guardsmen as they disappear around a shop corner.  Despite her shorter legs, Athena keeps up with her elven friend’s longer strides.  Crossing a main street, they see Brynn and Genoa coming up the road from the west gate, and wave to get their attention.  While Athena watches nervously and shuffles from foot to foot with the delay, Skylar updates the new-comers on the plan.  The druid and ranger agree, and the Companions are once more on the move, heading to the North wall.  Behind them, the alarm bell continues to ring out a warning.


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## Softwind (Mar 13, 2004)

*Upon the wall*

*Session 36 (Nov 03)* _[Part two]_

“Master Gotien?” Daladariel raps again on the Guildmaster’s door.  “Are you within?”
“Yes, Dal, come in.”  The mage enters the nicely appointed room, and takes a seat before the large desk.  Gotien looks up from his reading, eyes looking over the glass ovals perched on his nose.  “What can I do for you, my student?”

“I have questions and concerns.  I have recently returned from a task set the Companions.  I believe I have conducted myself well, yet I have doubts about how I applied the teachings you have given me.  From what my new friends found in the High Forest and near Sumpter, I know there to be greater powers at work in current and not so current events.  So I look for guidance.”

Gotien puts down his book and with slow careful motions, removes his glasses and places them on the closed volume.  He looks at Daladariel for a moment without speaking, studying the still-young elf’s face.  When the Guildmaster begins speaking, it is in a firm, low tone.  “When you first came into our Halls, orphaned by violence, withdrawn into yourself, I had great worry for you.  In this century past, you have shown great promise.  An intellect that rivals many of the mages’ here.  Your grasp of subtle concepts is phenomenal.”  

The older gentleman leans back, his breath loosed slowly in a sigh.  “Yet you lack the one thing we cannot give you here.  Experience.”  He leans forward again, his eyes focusing on distant things.  “And if I am not mistaken, such a thing is happening right now.”  His eyes focusing on Daladariel perched on the edge of his seat like an errant schoolboy, he continues, “The town that has housed you all these years is under attack.  Your friends most likely have rushed to its aid, if I’m no mistaker of character.  You have journeyed with them a short while.  Will you now continue that journey?  Let me reassure you, my door shall remain ever open to you.  We will speak more, after.”  Gotien waits, expectantly.

Daladariel stands up, hesitation plain on his face.  “Good master…” he begins, but is interrupted by Gotien.  “Go, my child.  Learn, and grow.  Come back to me, and we will talk again.”  Daladariel gulps, then quickly turns and hurries out the office, through the Guild Hall, and out onto the street.  He pauses only a moment before rushing northward to rejoin his companions.  Within the Hall, Gotien stares at the empty chair unseeing.  Shaking his head, with a sad smile on his face, he picks up his glasses, and with them firmly seated on his nose once more, begins to read.

***

Brynn, Athena, Skylar, and Genoa slow their hurried pace as they near the wall surrounding the city.  Atop it already are man guardsmen and women, staring out past the crenulations to the fields beyond.  Dull thumps are heard repeating beyond, with the ground trembling in counterpoint beneath armored feet.  Shouts and grunts can be heard in the distance, as can commands shouted by militia officers.  A shout from behind them reveals its source as Tombit, running to join up with them.  The monk pants lightly as he draws close, and says “It was a choice between a nap in the sun, and some action.  Since we have plenty of daylight, I figured I’d work on my moves.  Hiyah!”  The Companions exclaim their appreciation of his choice, then face towards the wall again.

Brynn spares his friends a glance before setting foot on a ramp leading to the catwalk inside the wall.  His progress, and that of the Companions behind him, is halted by a guardsmen with lowered spear.  “No citizens are allowed on the wall,” the guard intones.  “It’s for your safety.  The guards will take care of the threat.”

Brynn smiles in a grim fashion, as he pulls his swords out and displays them to the young guard baring the way.  As the sun glints from the blades, the guard cannot help but notice the battlescars upon them.  The young guard looks past the dwarf at the rest of the party behind him.  Seeing that he faces none not used to battle, his spear raises, and he steps to the side.  “My apologies, citizen.  You seem very familiar with those weapons, and frankly, we can use all the help we can get.”  The guard jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the half score of guardsmen on the wall.  Each of the men, although looking ready for the oncoming threat, also look very young, and somewhat unsure of themselves.  Brynn watches as one individual wipes sweat from his brow, and swallows heavily, even though the day is mild.

He turns to the guard on the ramp.  “Tell us where you hae need of us, and we’ll do it.”  Brynn waves his group forward, and they gather around the guard.  

“The ballistae are undermanned, and we are short some archers.  I see bows on some of you, so I take it you are familiar with their use?  Great!  Based on what we face, the bows will need be dropped afore too long, and melee weapons pulled.  Even with your help, we have small hope of holding off the horde that draws near.”  The man swallows heavy, as the thought works past his hard-won bravado.
Brynn begins to ask what manner of foe they face, but stops as he sees the creatures come shuffling out of the forest some three hundred yards from the walls.  His voice is low and full of danger.  “Giants.”  He squints, trying to make out more detail.  The tall humanoids look about 15 feet tall, but walk with such a gait as to indicate they travel hunched over.  “They’d be over twenty feet if they stood up all the way,” he mutters.

“What manner of giant are they, Brynn?” Genoa asks, as she mentally reviews the spells Silvanus has bestowed on her.  She selects several, before noticing Brynn has not responded.  “Brynn?”

The ranger says nothing for a moment, before shaking his head in confusion.  “Me da told me ov several different breeds, but these are like none I’ve heard ov nor seen.  I know not, and it bothers me.”

The guard interrupts.  “I don’t know or care what they’re called.  But I do know, they’re not from around here, even with the movement of the various tribes from the mountains.  And they don’t look friendly…”

The party jumps to action then, as Brynn rushes to help man a ballista, Skylar stands by a basket of arrows (filling her quiver while she has the opportunity) and Athena and Genoa pull their slings.  The healers, knowing their weapons to be of limited use at such distances, also keep their eyes out for need of their healing talents.  Tombit carries his light crossbow to another basket filled with bolts, and takes up position there, watching the giants advance in a chaotic mob as he loads a bolt into it.

“Ready… aiiiiiim….. FIRE!” shouts the guard responsible for aiming the ballista Brynn assists with.  With a shudder as the weapon’s limbs straighten, the large missile is launched at the oncoming forces, and lodges in the chest of an oncoming giant.  “Hah!” shouts Brynn in triumph, “First blood!”  Then the ranger is forced to return attention to the weapon, helping crank it for another shot.

“Don’t you mean second blood?” Skylar calls out, sweetly, as she reloads her bow.  “Huh?” comes the reply, to which she just points out.  Following the finger, Brynn spies a giant staggering with several arrow shafts protruding from its head and neck.  “Bah,” is his only comment as he puts his back into cranking his weapon again.  Skylar smirks before launching more arrows.  

Deciding her weapon just won’t reach, Genoa instead concentrates on the words of a spell to summon forth a Briar Web in the midst of a grouping of giants.  Even with their great strength, four giants are unable to break free of the stinging plants that so suddenly surround them.  Their cries of pain and anger drift over the battlefield, but Genoa does not smile as she looks for new targets close together.  

She is momentarily distracted by Daladariel running up the ramp behind her, panting from the run.  “Found… hoo hah.. you…hoh ha.” The mage staggers past.  “You okay, Dal?” the druid asks, half in concern, but with a smile in her voice.

“Yeah, just.. huff… out of breath.  I’ll be fine.”  The mage straightens up, and looks across the battlements.  “By Mystra!  There are so many of them!”

“Aye.  So whatever you can do to help would be appreciated!” a guardsmen shouts.

“I can accommodate that, I believe!”  The pea-sized projectile streaks from his outstretched finger to impact amidst a group of giants running forward almost shoulder to shoulder.  Upon reaching its target, the Fireball erupts, searing flesh from bones.  Several giants stumble, severely injured, as others shrug off the injury, yelling in pain and anger.

“Slow em down, mage!” Brynn shouts at Daladariel, as the dwarf struggles to crank the ballistae into firing position and load it again.  “We need more time!”

“Can do!” Daladariel casts again, this time causing black tendrils to rise from the ground and wrap themselves about several giants.  Believing themselves strong enough to break through any impediment, the giants’ faces show their confusion as they find the tendril material impervious to their struggles to free themselves.  Even so, some of the shadowstuff conjured up shows the strain.

“That’ll do!” This from Skylar’s direction, although Daladariel is unable to determine if it was his fellow elf’s throat, or the axe upon her back, that shouted the words.  The elven archer quickly fires a quarter-score of arrows at the captured giants.  Her small shafts are soon joined by the larger bolt from the ballistae, which skewers a giant, felling it to dangle lifeless in the tendrils.

“Great shots all!  But our needs are more towards those that still advance!  Focus the attacks on them while the rest are slowed.” The guardsmen shouts.  The man’s shouts are drowned out by sudden sounds of stone against stone, as the closer giants begin to hurl great boulders at the wall, and also at those who stand watch upon it.  With painful screams, some of the guards are struck, knocked from their feet.  A few are unfortunate enough to be knocked from the wall, landing on the ground below with a sickening crunch.

“Nooooo!” groans Athena, as she recognizes some of the guards that had been teaching her just minutes before.  She takes a few steps before realizing that nothing could be done for them with the powers granted her.  A quick prayer is intoned, before she turns back to guardsmen that were injured in the initial salvo.  The treated men give her hurried but heartfelt thanks, as they feel their wounds healing in mere seconds.


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## Softwind (Apr 2, 2004)

*Session 36 (Nov 03)* _[Part three]_

Out on the field, several giants lay unmoving, even as their fellows trample their bodies underfoot.  A second Briar Web is erected by Genoa, slowing but not halting the main force’s advance.  Even under the hail of arrows, bolts, and sling stones, the giants advance steadily, reaching the walls quickly.  Several more town guards are knocked from the wall, or crushed where they stand by the flung stones from the giants.  Brynn himself takes a glancing blow, which only maddens him, causing him to work the ballista’s crank harder and faster.  
Another boulder crashes against the weapon, killing the aimer and cracking the frame.  Brynn does not pause, but directs the siege weapon at a near giant, and fires.  The weapon, stressed already, performs this final act before tearing itself apart.  “Hah!  Skewered that one, we did.  Drat, fool weapon.”  He pulls his swords, and braces himself for the rush, as the hunchbacked giants reach the wall itself, and begin to lift themselves up.

“Stand by to repel attack!” shouts a dew-faced guard, as he waves a spear over his head.  In the next moment, the guard is gone, swept from the wall by a blow from a small tree, wielded by a large giant.  The giant doesn’t have a chance to gloat, as Skylar, with a shout, sinks Grimnyr’s Beard into its skull.  The second blow nearly severs its head, and it topples backwards, momentarily tangling up with those that follow.

In the confusion, Tombit, who had been quietly watching, and occasionally firing his crossbow, jumps atop a crenellation, and launches himself at the head of another giant.  A quick swipe of his claws, and the giant is blinded by its own blood streaming into the ruin of its eyes.  The monk then drops to the ground below, waiting for a chance to sneak attack his enemies.

Additional stones from the giants reduce further the number of defenders, and in some cases, begin crumbling the walls themselves.  Athena is kept busy, moving from injured soldier to injured soldier, reducing pain, and returning function to damaged bodies.  She struggles to keep the sobs boiling up in her throat from escaping, and angrily wipes away tears as she spots one after another of her temporary teachers’ bodies, slain.  In a lull, she looks up from her self-appointed task, and gasps at the nearness of so many giants.  Lacking patients for the moment, she pulls her mace and scimitar, and attacks a nearby invader.  Scarcely does the giant get a handhold on the wall to pull itself up than its hand and face are assailed by whirling steel.  With a shout, it falls back, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Nearby, near the ruins of the ballista, Brynn discovers himself surrounded by four giants, all intent on killing him.  Seeking to avoid being surrounded, he leaps down off the wall on the town side, and presses his back against the cool stones.  His opponents follow, and severely injure him with their fists, and large clubs of wood or bone.  His dwarven constitution, and burning hatred for giants are all the keep him standing upright, but he knows he cannot take more blows like that and hope to survive.

“Gotta get tae higher ground agin,” he mutters, and invokes the Helm of Teleportation on his head, to move back to the ramp leading up the wall.  The momentary disorientation on his arrival almost pitches him off the wall headfirst, but he regains his senses enough to gulp down a healing potion, restoring some of his health.  “They’ve breached the walls!  The giants have breached the walls!” he shouts, as he sees additional guardsmen rushing from another section of the wall, and some from the town itself. 

On the other side of the wall, Tombit nimbly dances through the legs of his opponents, always keeping giantflesh between himself and clubs or boulders.  Deprived of a clear shot, several giants get entangled with each other trying to attack the diminutive monk.  Those that draw close enough pull back injured limbs as Tombit puts his Tiger claws to good use.  

“Got another!” Tombit hears the shout, as one of the giants threatening him is abruptly slain by a well placed axe blow.  Looking up the wall, he spies Skylar swinging towards another giant, whose head and shoulders are just the right height above the walls for an easy hit.  He also watches as an unlucky guardsmen is struck from the wall to land nearby, at the feet of the giant that attacked him.  “Oh no you don’t!” Tombit meows, and begins to cut the hamstrings of the giant.  Under this new threat, the giant whirls around on its good leg, striking at its attacker.  The guard, recovering from the stunning blow, thrusts his short sword into the giant’s leg, finishing the cut started by Tombit.

As the giant unbalances, Tombit climb/runs up the front of it, using his claws to assist the ascent.  Upon reaching the giant’s middle, his blades bite deeper, disrupting vital life flow of the creature.  Tombit rides the giant down to the ground, tumbling off in safety before it strikes ground.  “Ta da!” he crows, thrusting his arms in the air at the perfect dismount, but seeing that no one is looking his direction, slumps dejectedly and mutters.  His mood improves as he spies a giant attempting to flee, and chases after.  The guard he rescued slumps against the wall, alive but barely.  “Hope he’s okay when I return,” Tombit thinks.

 Daladariel, having put Magic Missiles and Acid Arrows to good use against the entrapped giants within his Tentacles spell, turns his attention at the giants within the walls.  His voice does not waver as he casts the Fireball spell towards the knot of giants milling about.  When the smoke clears, and he can see again, only one of the four still stands.  “Durn it, mage!  Warn a dwarf when yer gonna do that!” shouts Brynn over his shoulder, as he runs to engage the last giant.  “A few seconds earlier, and I’d hae been in it that, too!”

Daladariel shrugs apologetically.  “But you weren’t, friend Brynn.  The last one has been softened up for you.  It’s all yours!”

“I don’ need them *softened*.  I *like* ‘em tough.  S’more fun that way!”   Brynn’s blades finish off the giant in two hits, and he watches in some dissatisfaction as the giant comes crashing down.  “Too easy.”  He scans the area, near the boulder damaged and fire scorched buildings that border the town wall, but sees no giants save those that lay unmoving on the flagstones.  “Fah,” he mumbles, then moves towards the ramp leading up to the wall.

Skylar watches as one of the remaining giants flees, with Tombit on its tail.  Carefully, she draws back her bowstring, resting the fletching of the arrow against her cheek.  Taking aim, she lets fly, watching as her shaft sinks up to the nock in the neck of her target.  The giant takes only one more step before it comes crashing down.  Tombit reaches the target, and plunges his claws into its neck, making sure the opponent is truly dead.  He flashes Skylar a thumbs up, causing her to smile grimly, before going through the giant’s pockets and bags.  This elicits a chuckle from the elf as she checks for any other target in sight.

In the field before her, all she sees are fallen giants, and some guards cutting throats of the slain.  Many of the guards bear wounds, from club, stone or giant fist, but none are slowed in their task.  Skylar raises her eyes to further in the distance, along the wall, and sees additional targets being dealt with by the guards there.  Close by, the Red Wizard’s enclave shows signs of attack, with cracked logs and scorched wood, but no giant made it closer that a few paces before being slain.  By the looks of it, fire based attacks were the norm, as every corpse bore burns.  Upon the town wall, Skylar watches as Athena moves from body to body, looking for those she can assist.  Quiet sobs are pulled from her throat as she finds every last one of her teachers has been slain.  Tenderly, she closes eyes and arranges batter limbs into some semblance of order, before moving on to those that can benefit from her aid.  Skylar swallows a lump that develops in her throat as she remembers a similar scene so long ago, involving a caravan under her care.  She wipes away a tear, and then stirs herself to action, as she draws up along Athena, and helps with the wounded.

Nearby, Genoa finishes healing a young soldier.  As he thanks her, she absently nods, her eyes scanning the battle ground.  A smile lights her face as she watches Tombit exclaiming over the loot the giants carried.  A troubled frown crosses her brow – somehow, collecting the loot now, so quick after the attack seems wrong.  Athena somehow senses her concern, and following Genoa’s gaze, sees Tombit’s activities.  “He does no harm.  Knowing him, he will volunteer part of his portion to the families of those slain.  I too will donate, plus additional to the churches in Everlund.”  Athena grips Genoa’s shoulder with her right hand.  “Come, let us help.”

Athena and Genoa start down the ramp, with Skylar joining them as they descend.  With Brynn’s help, they locate a handbarrow and wheel it out the gate nearby, out into the torn up fields.  The cart sinks several times as bags heavy with coin, metal servingware, gems, potions, and the occasional magical item.  Soldiers join them, once they realize the party’s intention to split what is gained fairly with those left standing, and the families of those that fell.  The pile of items grows within the warehouse that was commandeered for the purpose, much to the delight of Tombit, who attempts to swim within the coins.  

Under the watchful eye of a guard captain and his men, the Companions count and sort the booty, giving equal value of coins and gems to the guard to distribute as warranted.  Additional coins are added to the guard’s share (mostly heavy copper) and several semi-precious stones as well.  The adventurers keep what scrolls and potions would aid them more than the townsfolk, leaving them healing items.


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## Softwind (Apr 2, 2004)

*Session 36 (Nov 03)* _[Part four of four]_

“I’d like to apologize to ye,” starts the guard captain. “At first, I thought ye’re just up on the walls for the chance at booty from our attackers. But ye’ve left the lion’s share to the soldiers and their families. Ye didn’t have to do that, since from what I hear, ye’ve done most of the killin’. Thank ye.” The gruff man clears his throat, and walks away, telling a subordinate to see to the dispersal. He leaves the party silent in stunned embarrassment. “Well, *I* don’t mind getting some loot…” begins one, before being hushed by the rest of the party. “Oh okay, I did it cuz it was right to…” 


“Brynn, you look troubled.” Athena states quietly.

“I am, Athena. I’ve been listenin’ tae some of the guards from other parts o’ the wall. Even though our section was hit harder’n most, we had mostly ill-trained boys wit’ us. And th’ replacements weren’t nae better. Other sectors, the ones wit’ veterans, were nae touched at all. This wasn’t just a random attack.” He stares pointedly at the party. “Somethin’ rotten here. An’ I don’t mean them carcasses out there…” He jerks a thumb towards the killing field. 

“But what can we do about it? We’re just a band of adventurers, looking for our home. We can’t take on the troubles of another town….” Athena’s voice dies out.

“Aye, lass, I know. But for now, we should keep our eyes 'n ears open, in case we hear sumtin' tae pass on to the guards here. We do em a favor, maybe they can help us find home, an’ our kin, somehow… In the meantime, let’s take our earnings, and finish up our day with drink!”


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## Softwind (Apr 13, 2004)

Need to rewrite my notes to continue the storyhour.  I've lost the job that gave me plenty of time during the day to read and write here on En World's boards, so I can only snatch time at the end of the day to work on it, hence the 2-3 week lags between posts.  I hope I can get this next chapter in place before the end of April.  We'll see...


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