# Amidst the Ruins (Updated 6/22/06)



## Aneul (Oct 22, 2005)

This is my first attempt at any serious writing outside of essays for school. I’ve read a number of storyhours on these boards, and after the first session of a new campaign, it seemed like the time was ripe to write my own.

I don’t DM this campaign, I play Nwm (half elf, Paladin 1), and I apologize profusely to Sepulchrave for steeling the name. I didn’t plan on the storyhour when I wrote up the character. If anyone has a problem with the character being named Nwm, just say so and I’ll change the name.

A bit of back story for Nwm and Ygred (human, Paladin 1) is required before the actual story started. Both characters come from a human encampment near the ruins of the city Naschres (located in the center of a forest, the Rotwood), which their people scavenge for salvageable goods for a living. Due to recent undead activity, the head Paladin of the camp, Lord Gilgamesh, sent Nwm and Ygred out to find other human encampments and secure reinforcements for Naschres.
	While Ygred is a human and has lived all his life in Naschres, Nwm came to the camp only a year ago, for reasons he has not disclosed to any of the humans outside the Paladin’s order. His story will be addressed over the course of the first few posts.
	So, I hope you all enjoy- Here it is.

***

Dusk was fast approaching as Nwm and Ygred reached the edge of Rotwood. Six days spent in the unwholesome shadows of the corrupted trees had not done the knights any good- they rested now, chests heaving with the effort of their forced march, still grimly clutching their swords- hardly believing the trials of the forest to be over.

Ygred stood for a long while gazing out over the endless expanses of the grasslands. having never left the confines of Citadel Naschres in his 19 years, Ygred found the sheer openness of the verdant tundra staggering. Nwm glanced at his companion, and, deciding to let him enjoy this unexpected respite while it lasted, set about preparing camp. Nwm was no stranger to the grasslands- he’d grown up among the nomadic elves who called them home- and considered them only slightly less dangerous then the depths of the Rotwood. After a moments hesitation, Nwm began collecting grasses and deer droppings with which to kindle a fire. The smoke might, ofcource, attract hostile attention, but the chill of the night might just as easily kill the two exhausted soldiers- unsheltered as they were. 

As the grasses began to crinkle under the heat of the sparks Nwm’s flint cast upon them, Ygred turned to his companion. The younger knight’s face was a mask of stoicism- but his voice belayed more then a little concern.

“Nmw, might not a fire draw unwanted attention from the denizens of the Rotwood? Both you and I know what foul things the shadows of those trees conceal from the light of day. With nightfall, I suspect they’ll be drawn to our blaze like a beacon.” Nwm snorted indifferently.	

“We’ll be lucky if the only threats we face tonight come from the Rotwood. The plains have their own predators...and ofcource the elves don’t take kindly to visitors in their lands.” At the mention of the nomadic fair folk, Nwm’s smooth forehead collapsed into a mass of furrows- asthough an unseen weight had descended upon his broad shoulders.

With the fire now burning steadily, the paladins settled to the ground, wrapping their frayed cloaks about them against the impending night’s chill. The tundra around them darkened. Soon, the only light visible save that of the stars was the flickering of the their camp fire...and it did not go unnoticed. From atop a bluff several hundred yards off, a lone figure gazed down upon the light. Eyes sharper then those of any human, the watcher easily picked the bulky armor clad shapes of the two knights out of the tangle of grasses. With steps as soft and graceful as those of a hunting cat, the watcher moved towards the camp, slim hands resting easily on the hilt of a thin bluesteel blade at his waist. 

The watcher got within ten paces of the camp before the knights noticed his presence. With a shout, Ygred leapt to his feat, unsheathing his great sword as he did so. Nwm also moved- grabbing a javelin from a sling across his back- poising to throw at a moments notice. The cloak shrouded figure did not move- showing neither signs of fear or hostility. He raised one hand in a gesture of greeting. With sudden trepidation, Nwm spoke out- not in the human tongue, but in the dialect of the elves.

“Who are you that comes under cover of darkness to the camp of a Paladin of Hypatia?” The watcher balked in surprise at hearing his own tongue spoken by a human. He responded, also in the harsh tongue of the nomadic elves.

“I am Eromil of Clan Birchwing, son of Aneuvian and Luarasti. I mean you no harm, and would share your fire.” With this, he unslung a quiver of arrows from his back and dropped them to the ground at his feat, a gesture of peace common amongst the elves. He did not come closer, though, for Ygred had turned to his companion, naked blade in hand, and was shouting in the unintelligible tongue of men. Although Eromil could not make out the meaning of the man’s words, the hostile content was plain as day.

“What fiendish speech is this, Nwm, that you and yonder stranger converse in? It sounds to much like a tongue of demons for my taste. I trust this visitor not! We should drive him off.” Nwm raised a hand to silence his companion, muttering under his breath as he did so.

“The man on the bluff is an elf. Furthermore, I know the tribe he claims to be of. It would not do to arouse the anger of the Birchwings by denying him shelter, and should we move against him, rest assured his kin will see us dead.” In the rasping language of the elves, Nwm called to out to Eromil.	“Come warm yourself by our fire then, Eromil of Clan Birchwing. I am Nwm of Naschres, and a son by my mother’s side of that same clan. It would be poor manners to deny my kin what comfort we can offer against the evening’s chill.” As the elf approached, Nmw let his gaze slip into the spectrum of the spirit sight- a power he had developed only in the last year under the tutelage of Gilgamesh, Lord Paladin of Naschres. The world around him blurred for a moment, and then, as he focused his gaze upon Eromil, he beheld the man’s spirit. It clung to the now shifting outline of the elf like a cloak of light. Nwm breathed a sigh of relief- it was not the spirit of an evil soul. Beside him, he noticed Ygred also scrutinizing the elf’s aura, the other Paladin clearly did not wish to take any chances. 

As Nwm began to ease himself back into the normal spectrum, he glanced again at the fading spirit enshrouding Eromil, and was beset by a faint tingling of recognition, or perhaps deja-vu. The elf’s aura seemed strangely familiar, although were he had seen it before, he could not say. Subconsciously, he clasped his left hand over the black leather glove which covered his right. 

Even as Nwm studied the strangely familiar elf, Eromil likewise watched the Paladin. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that elven blood ran in his veins. Furthermore, as an elf, Eromil’s natural connection to the spirit world was strong enough that he could recognize close kin with but a glance. From the moment he had hear Nwm’s voice, he was aware that the knight was somehow related to him- very closely related infact. Perhaps, he thought, this had something to do with the quest the great Druid had sent him on. The keen eyed elf also caught the strangely reflexive manner inwhich Nwm clutched his gauntlet. Curious indeed, Eromil mussed, stowing away the strange behavior for future assessment.

Eromil quoted down before the fire, opening a flask at his side and sipping from it once, before offering it to his hosts. Ygred glanced suspiciously at the wineskin, refusing to drink of it until Nwm had downed a mouthful. As Ygred dubiously accepted the flask, Nwm turned to Eromil. 

“Forgive my asking, but its uncommon to find an elf traveling alone on the plains, and the Birchwing lands are leagues away. Why are you here?” The elf gazed into the fire and began his tale. At a look from Ygred, Nwm began to translate.

“23 years ago, I forged my blade Lightning- becoming a warrior of the Birchwings. I was chosen as a member of one of the many war bands of the tribe, and rode far abroad, never once returning to my clan’s ancestral mound. Over the past five years, my war band clashed repeatedly with warriors of another tribe, the Chipwings, our greatest foes. All but one other warrior was slain in the last confrontation between the Chipwings and my band, some two years past. As I lay dying on the field, I dreamt of the sun setting, and as I awoke, I found my wounds healed, and an ancient druid standing over me. The Druid told me that he had seen me in a vision, and that, for the honor of the Birchwings, I must chase the setting sun. That was all I learned from him- he transformed into a Prarie Hawk as soon as I began to question him, and flew to the east. Thus, I travel west, dreaming every night of the setting sun.”

A growing suspicion welled in Nwm as Eromil tolled his tale. 23 years ago, the elf had left the ancestral mound of the Birchwings. 23 years ago, a child neither elf no man had been borne to that same tribe, loosing his mother in childbirth. It was the custom of the elves never to reveal the name of a mother lost to childbirth to her offspring, instead letting the fates enlighten the child when the time was right. Nwm cleared his throat.

“What did you say your mother was named, again?” He rasped. As he said so, his sight melted back into the spirit spectrum. Eromil’s spirit shone like liquid fire, and once again, Nwm beheld that strangely familiar glow. 

“Laurasti, lady Druid of the Birchwings. I am told she di-” He was cut off by Ygred. The young paladin pointed wordlessly into the Rotwood, clutching his great sword, eyes narrowed. In the shadows beneath the trees, something flashed a dull white.

“Sweet Hypatia...” Nwm whispered, slowly unsheathing Exile, his longsword.

“I don’t know.” Muttered Ygred. “For a moment, it looked like someone was waving a white flag...but that's crazy.” Eromil drew up beside them.

“I saw it too. A man perhaps, in a white tunic- but it was gone so swiftly I can not be sure.” Nwm translated briefly to Ygred. The three gazed into the gloom beyond the edge of the Rotwood, eyes searching the blackness to no avail. Minutes passed. Nwm lowered his blade.

“There!” Ygred pointed to a cluster of tangled bushes several hundred yards away. His face was pale. Moving with unearthly grace from behind the bushes was a man- or atleast a man’s clothing. A white tunic, a pair of worn trousers, a woodsman’s cap. For a moment, Nwm and Eromil were unable to believe what they saw, but as two more of the otherworldly things glided into view- it became impossible to deny.

Three sets of farmer’s cloths, two men’s and one a woman’s, completely empty, were drifting towards them. Around the ends of the tunic’s sleeves, strange witchlights glimmered a sickly green. The woman’s dress flapped asthough tossed by a biting wind, but the air around Nwm was still. As the things drew closer, Eromil realized with sudden horror that the woman’s blouse was ripped and stained with what could only be blood. The tunics of the men were in similar conditions. Eyes narrowed, Nwm stepped forward, Exile glimmering dimly in the light of the campfire.

“Come no closer, whatever you be! Speak and let your purpose be known!” A slight breeze stirred up, and for a moment, Nwm thought- imagined- that he heard the faintest trace of a mocking laugh- but the wind faded. Utter silence descended over the trio- and the cloths drifted closer. Nwm slipped into the spirit sight for the third time that day...

Around each set of cloths, a skin of black flames danced. The telltale stench of evil drifted on the wind- assaulting Nwm’s spirit sense like the smell of rotting flesh. The Paladin’s gaze returned to the earthly spectrum in time to see Eromil knocking an arrow to his bow. Nwm hefted Exile, focusing all his strength of will into the blade. The runes the elven elder’s had etched with their magic onto the bluesteel sword glowed faintly in response as the holy energy coursed  through them. Beside him, Ygred lifted a glowing brand from the flames.

“Last I checked, cloths don’t take well to fire...” The younger Knight said with a hard grimace. An arrow hissed between the two Knights- connecting solidly with one of the possessed tunics. The shaft passed through the weak fabric easily, but the monstrosity hardly slowed. With a shout to the goddess Hypatia, Ygred hurled himself into melee- taking a sweeping blow at the nearest horror with his blazing torch. The flames passed within an inch of the thing’s trousers, which seemed to recoil as if in fear. Then, with horrible swiftness and unbelievable strength, the tunic lunged forward, wrapping its arms about Ygred. Although the human Knight struggled with all of his considerable strength, the supernatural force inhabiting the tattered raiment overcame him in seconds. Witchlights flared about the tunics arms as they tightened around Ygred’s neck. As the possessed blouse and skirt glided to flank Ygred, Nwm charged in from its side. With a savage snarl, he lashed out with Exile, the blade, latent with holy energy, bit into the front of the bloodstained bodice, tearing a great gash in the threadbare fabric, and dimming the witchlights within the cloth. It was with mounting horror that Nwm realized that for all his effort, whatever force inhabited the farm girl’s clothing was far from defeated. The half elf was caught up in a terrible parody of an embrace by his unholy foe- its arms wrapping almost lovingly around his neck as they sought to squeeze the life out of him. Eromil watched in horror as the two knights were grappled to the ground by the possessed cloths. More frightening still was the small blaze kindling a few feet from the struggling form of Ygred, were his torch had been dropped. Still, the elf has more pressing worries- as the cloths his arrow had torn into were fast approaching. The nimble elf was able to dodge the grasping arms of the tunic- remaining free, but sent reeling by a vicious punch to his face, the force of which nearly snapped his neck.

In the following moments, both Nwm and Ygred managed to free themselves- throwing off the weight of the fiendish cloths only to be faced by the crackling of a swiftly spreading prairie fire... Retrieving his sword, Ygred redoubled his efforts against the two sets of cloths which beset himself and Eromil. With a triumphant shout, he managed to push one into the roaring flames, where it disappeared in a mass of ash and smoke. As he turned to confront the second assailant, Ygred barely had the time to throw up his hands before his face as he was caught by a vicious backhand of incredible strength which knocked him dazedly back a few paces. Behind him, Eromil had retreated to a safer distance and sent another arrow whistling home into the remaining tunic. Across the rapidly growing blaze, Nwm spun Exile through a  swift feint and impaled the bodice. Now looking more then a little worse for wear, the woman’s cloths twisted and squirmed to avoid toppling into the crackling fire behind them. Pushing his advantage, Nwm yanked Exile free and took a sweeping slash at the trailing dress. Exile contacted, and the monster toppled over, disintegrating in the heat of the prairie fire in seconds. Hefting his blade, Nwm turned in time to watch Ygred and Eromil deftly dispatch of the final creature. Both were bleeding heavily, in no shape to tackle the raging prairie fire. 

“Give me your water skin, Ygred, we’ll need to put this out, although it’s probably already drawn the attention of every sentient creature within a hundred miles by now.” The weary knight said. Emptying his own water skin into the heart of the fire, Nwm began beating the remaining flames with his shield.

“I’ve only got ale in here, Nwm. Sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to help put out the fire....” Resignedly, Nwm set about extinguishing the sizable blaze, suffering several severe burns in the process. Returning to the makeshift camp exhausted, burnt, and bruised, Nwm didn’t even have the energy left to demand to know why Ygred was carrying ale instead of water....

Discomforted by the thought that the prairie fire had attracted hostile attention, Nwm  managed to convince Ygred to help move their meager possessions into the outskirts of the Rotwood. They hastily set camp for the second time that night, although neither knight had the energy to collect more wood for a fire. Eromil, needing little sleep, offered to stand watch for the remainder of the night, and, wounded as he was, seemed more then a little keen to stay in the company of the Paladins. As the two knights slept, Eromil’s mind wandered back to their meeting earlier that day. His eyes fell on the black gauntlet covering Nwm’s right hand.

“It might be nothing...” The elf whispered. “Then again, it might not...” Stealing silently over and kneeling beside the sleeping paladin, Eromil eased the glove from the half- elf’s hand. Even in the dying light of the camp fire, there could be no mistaking the mark Nwm bore.

An intricately twisting brand ran from Nwm’s knuckles to his wrist like some grotesque parasite. Eromil recognized its meaning immediately.

“Elf-slayer” he breathed. Suddenly, the blade named Exile held a world of meaning. The elf shivered with fear, hands trembling ever so slightly as he slid Nwm’s glove back on to the sleeping Knight’s hand.

Stepping back a few paces, Eromil fingered the hilt of his sword. His natural inclination at finding the brand of the elf slayer was to slit the man’s throat and be off into the night without a second thought, but his conditions presented a challenge. Eromil was weary and badly wounded. By himself, he’d probably not survive another day on the plains, especially if the Clipwings found him or some horror from the Rotwood crossed his path. The human Knights were both able combatants, and both less injured then he. Now that he thought about it, Eromil wasn’t even sure that he’d be able to kill Nwm with a single thrust, weak as he was- and he shuddered at the idea of the Elf- Slayer awakening and throttling him to death. And there was that sense- Nwm was close kin, after all. 

Eromil gritted his teeth in frustration. He could either leave the Knights and die, stab the elf-salyer and die, or remain in the company of an abomination until fully healed. It wasn’t a hard choice, not for the likes of Eromil.

						***


Nwm and Ygred stirred shortly after the first light of dawn appeared to the east. The meager camp was dissembled in a mater of moments, and the trio left the Rotwood soon after. Ygred turned to Nwm after some moment. After several minutes of silence, Ygred turned to Nwm.

“Look” he muttered in an undertone, “I can’t help but notice that the elf seems to have decided to travel with us. Did you two make some sort of agreement while you were chatting away in that strange tongue of yours?” Nwm turned to regard Eromil, following a pace or so behind them. The elf’s hard expression surprised him, but he passed it off and answered Ygred.

“No, no arrangement was made between us, I’d have told you if their was, but we can hardly refuse to let him travel with us- we are going west too, and all three of us are injured.”

“Safety in numbers” Ygred reasoned. As they mounted a steep hill, the Knights fell behind Eromil. Soon, the elf was nearly out of sight, but his astounded voice carried clearly back to them as he reached the summit.

“A camp! A camp of elves and humans! Never in my life have I seen such a thing!” Excitement mounted in Nwm, he doubled his pace, forgetting that Ygred could not understand the elf. Befuddled, Ygred broke into a jog beside Nwm.

“What did he say?” Nwm’s face was alight with- hope? Anticipation? The Knights came to a wide plateau, at the far end of which stood Eromil, gazing down upon a sight which caught Ygred’s breath.

The ruins of a might keep lay spread out beneath them. Stone walls rose three times a man’s height above the prairie, wooden palisades filling a large number of gaps were the stone had succumbed to the elements. Atop the walls, armored soldiers marched, scanning the surrounding lands. As Ygred took in the view, Nwm cursed.

“What?”

“We can’t go in there.” Nwm was clutching his gauntlet again, Ygred noted.

“Why? These people may be able to come to the aid of Naschres! We can’t simply walk away from them, we were charged to bring reinforcements!”

“Look.” Nwm pointed to a mass of tents on the far side of the fort. Horses stood tethered a few paces behind them. Among the tents, a number of lightly armored warriors conversed with merchants and the soldiers of the keep. “Elves. You know I was cast out of the Birchwing clan. I can’t go among them. Allies of the elves may not look kindly upon me.”

“Eromil seems grateful enough for our company. Why do you think these elves will be different?” But Nwm was no longer listening to him. With a shocked expression, the half-elf was scanning the plateau.

“Eromil has gone!” Ygred was more then a little surprised to see his companion’s face contorted with fear as he spoke. “Go back the way we came! If you find Eromil, stop him, I must speak with him.” Nwm dashed down the hill in the direction of the fort, calling loudly in elven. Ygred stood for a moment, looking after Nwm, then set back the way they had come.

Eromil had not gotten far when he heard Nwm’s shouts. Resting an arrow on the string of his bow, the elf slid behind a boulder. Presently, Nmw came into sight.

“Eromil! Wherever you are, I must peak with you!” The paladin passed Eromil’s hiding place, still calling. Eromil drew back his bow, and stepped into view.

“Come not a step closer, Elf-slayer.” Nwm whirled around. Eromil’s hand tightened around the wood of his bow.

“Explain.” Nwm didn’t need to ask what. Slowly removing his glove, Nwm gazed at the brand on his hand for a moment.

“EXPLAIN!” Eromil sounded almost frantic. The wood of his bow creaked under the strain of the taught string. With evident pain etched across his features, Nwm began to speak.

“I lived for twenty two years with the Birchwings. I was raised as a child of the clan, but there were some who hated me, thought my mixed blood an abomination- a taint. There were not many among the tribe who thought thusly, but those few were ever vigilant for a chance to see me exiled, or better yet, slain.”

“A newly armed warrior, Kolanth, got his chance shortly after I began the forging of my Warrior’s Blade. You see, I had for some time been courting a maiden of the clan in secret, and Kolanth discovered this. He took it as a personal insult- claiming that one of sullied blood such as I had not business courting a daughter of the Birchwing tribe. I argued the point, foolishly, and Kolanth challenged me to a duel.”  As he spoke, Nwm lifted the left plate from his shoulder, revealing a pallid scar just beneath his collar bone.

“I lost. Kolanth broke my blade, knocked me to the ground, and stabbed for my heart. I was just fast enough to move before the blow landed. As my blood spilt from the wound in my shoulder, Kolanth raised his sword again, but stayed the blow long enough to taunt me. As he spoke, I found the hilt of my broken sword, and when he lunged towards me for the killing strike, I drove the my shattered blade into his neck.”

“The tribe discovered me unconscious and Kolanth dead. I was branded without the chance to explain myself, not that it would have done me any good. The reason I was not killed outright, was, ironically, the fact that I had elven blood too- and perhaps that I was in the process of forging Exile. The druids claimed that to interrupt the forging of a Warrior’s Blade would bring disaster to the tribe, so I was allowed to finish that task before I was branded. Once the sword was finished, the Druids formally banished me- and carved the name Exile into my sword. I’ve tried to fill the runes in over the last year- or to file them down, but nothing works. Its what I am.” Nwm finished, and stood pleadingly before Eromil. The elf slowly lowered his bow.

Without a word, he stowed towards the fort below them, but the softening of his expression tolled Nwm that Eromil would not reveal. As he turned up the trail to find Ygred, Nwm called after Eromil.

“Please believe me when I tell you I took no pleasure in the act that earned me this brand- I was filled only with mindless furry, a furry I’ve spent the last year seeking to temper.”

						***

Ygred and Nwm caught up with Eromil at the gates of the keep. Almost sheepishly, the elf whispered to Nwm-

“The guards on the wall can’t understand me, and neither seem to have thought to get a translator.” Relief washed over Nwm at the sound of the elf’s voice. Apparently, he’d atleast been partially forgiven in light of his usefulness. Ygred called out to the guards atop the wall.


“Hail! I see fortune smile on your people! I, a Paladin of Hypatia and my companions would enter and speak with your Lord!” The guards peered down to them.

“I take it your band enclosed the elf? If he is a friend of a Knight of Hypatia, I would apologize for the inconvenience we’ve caused him.” The guard called down to unseen soldiers beneath, and in moments the great wooden doors ground open. 

Until he entered the city behind those doors, Nwm had believed humanity to be little more then a race of scavengers, clinging to the remnants of their shattered empire like flies to a aging carcass. The keep on the plains was something different. A reflection of a past era- a merging of the humanity of old and the new. Soldiers bedecked in the finery of the prior centuries patrolled freshly repaired walls. Seas of tents filled the square which had once been a market place, merchants of the modern age hawking the wares of the past. Ygred was likewise awed. The people of Naschres only barely scarped out their existence among the ruins- these proud people not only lived but thrived. 

“We’ll need to find someone with enough power here to order an expedition sent to Naschres.” Ygred commented to Nwm as they watched a pair of resplendently bedecked soldiers march past to take their shifts atop the walls. In response, Nwm called to one of the soldiers.

“Sir, my companion and I have news of a human encampment in need of your people’s aid. Who would we-” The guard pointed to to central body of the keep. 

“You’ll find the Lord Commander in there.”

The keep had once been an imposing building, but much of the upper stories had been destroyed and further battered by the elements. From a pile of ruble which had once been a tower, a white flag waved gently in the wind. At the entrance to the keep, another pair of soldiers met them and escorted them to the chambers of the Lord Commander.

Ygred rapped on the door with a mail clad fist as soon as the guards had returned to their post. 

“Enter” a resonant voice called from the other side of the door. The Paladins stepped in, finding themselves in a windowless room lit by flickering touchers. The chamber was bare save for a rough table in the center, over which the Lord commander was bent, surveying a map. The commander was an aging man, but of proud bearing and powerful build. A chest plate of burnished steel was visible beneath a royal blue cloak. Strapped across his back was a massive great sword. Ygred bowed.

“Lord Commander, I bear word form Lord Gilgamesh of Naschres.” the Knight said, remaining on his knees. 

“Rise and speak it, Knight” intoned the Commander, “though I have never heard of Gilgamesh or Naschres.” Ygred rose to his feet.

“The people of Naschre are beset by a great force of undead and fiends. At the behest of Lord Gilgamesh, myself and my companion journeyed far seeking warriors to bring to the aid of Gilgamesh. We have traveled for a month already, and encountered no one but your people. I plead of you, therefore, to send a company of soldiers to return to Naschres with me.” The Lord Commander's brow furrowed. He straightened, gazing appraisingly at Ygred, scarcely passing his eyes over Nwm.

“What proof can you give me that you speak truly?” The commander asked. Ygred balked at the question.

“My word as a Knight and servant of Hypatia.” Ygred intoned proudly.

“I’m afraid” sighed the Lord Commander, “that that is not enough.” As Ygred opened his mouth to speak, the Lord Commander raised his hand, and continued. “You must understand, Knight of Hypatia, that in these difficult times, I can not afford to send even a small contingent of men away on an errand which very well might be a ploy to draw them to their deaths in the Rotwood.” He paused at the look of outrage stamped across Ygred’s face, and smiled almost sadly. “There was a time not so long ago when I would have dispatched a hundred men to return to Nashres with you, and gladly. But times have changed. Men who enter that forest do not return, and the dead pound constantly on our walls. I’m sorry, but swords count for more then words now. If you have no proof beyond your word, then I can not justifiable lend your cause even a single warrior.” As Ygred fought to control his rising anger, Nwm cleared his throat.

“My Lord Commander, the warriors of Naschres are many and strong. Perhaps you could spare a few men to return to Naschres with us, and to guide its people through the forest that they might swell your own numbers. Naschres is beleaguered, and I have no doubt that Lord Gilgamesh would see the wisdom in relocating to a more defensible position.” The Lord commander shook his head.

“I’m truly sorry, but I have already given you my answer. Now, leave me, I have much to attend to.” The paladins bowed, and left the Commander, seething with anger. They left the keep in silence, making for the market in the hopes of finding Eromil among the elven traders there. 

During their audience, dusk had fallen over the plains. Clouds rolling in from the south obscured the moon and many of the stars. A chill wind toyed with the flames of the torches atop the wall and in the market. As Nwm and Ygred neared the market place, a deep bell tolled over the fort.	

The response was immediate. At once, men began running to the walls, while the elderly and young bolted and latched the doors of their houses. 

“What the....” Ygred mouthed.

“The dead advance! To the walls!” A passing soldier shouted. Ygred looked to Nwm. The half-elf had already drawn his sword, and with a nod to Ygred he charged after the soldiers.

As they came in sight of the walls, the severity of the attack became apparent. The shapes of fighting soldiers and shambling corpses were silhouetted in the torch light. It seemed that the dead had already managed to scale the walls. The paladins found themselves in a press of armored soldiers as they rushed to climb to the wall tops. As he mounted the stairs, Nwm glanced around him, surveying the state of the battle. 

The guards faired badly. Masses of rotting corpses poured over the walls, and more shambled out for the forest every moment. Tospite their skill and euiptment, the human guards were slowly being pushed from the ramparts. The reinforcements toped the stairs, forming a semicircle, slowly expanding into the ranks of the undead. Nwm and Ygred found themselves fighting at the foremost edge of the circle, beset by an endless swarm of undead. Zombies fell to the blades of both men, but as he hacked into the torso of an advancing corpse, Nwm felt a sharp flash of pain in his head, and tumbled backwards, into blackness.

						***


W


----------



## Steverooo (Oct 23, 2005)

AUGH!  My eyes!!!  

Please use the Enter/Return key, TWICE, between paragraphs, to break up the text-blocks!  (It is MUCH easier to read, and also easier on the eyes)!  Thanks!


----------



## Steverooo (Oct 23, 2005)

*Not bad!*

Well, it's hard to read, and has a lot of typos (and a few misused words), but it's enjoyable!  Y'might want to Edit it, insert those Returns, and correct a few typos, but otherwise, keep up the good work!  Your writing's pretty good, and your GM shows some excellent World-building skills!


----------



## Aneul (Oct 23, 2005)

I'll fix the formating. Its good to hear that someone enjoyed it. Prehaps I can coerce my DM into posting a bit about the world.


----------



## Steverooo (Oct 26, 2005)

Aneul said:
			
		

> I'll fix the formating. Its good to hear that someone enjoyed it. Prehaps I can coerce my DM into posting a bit about the world.




Looks better!  Thanks!  

I know whatcha mean...  I've had several story hours, and never gotten a comment on any of them, but one!  (Kinda makes you wonder if anyone ever even saw them!)


----------



## sirfiori (Oct 26, 2005)

Good job Anuel, cant wait to see what happens to Eromil. He must be the coolest rogue or character ever.


----------



## Aneul (Oct 27, 2005)

To Sirfiori
Yes, Eromil (elven Rogue 1) is very cool. Its a great deal of fun to roleplay Nwm when dealing with him, becouse of their shared lineage and distrust of one another. As will become apparent later, they also differ on _lots_ of moral issues.

To everyone else it may concern
I'll be making an effort to update weekley, since I'd like to keep the storyhour only one session behind the actual game. In the future, I'll also try to get someone look it over for typos which spellcheck doesnt catch. Much to my chagrin, my DM pointed out to me that I'd described the Lord Commander as and aging "ham", but of proud and noble bearing, as aposed to an aging man.


----------



## Steverooo (Oct 28, 2005)

I'm sure that that will earn you a demotion!  (Harrumph!)


----------



## Spider_Jerusalem (Oct 30, 2005)

Hey Anuel, good stuff so far. 

Looks like I'm lucky enough to start reading after the formatting-wars have died down. It reads great now (there are a few points where maybe you could give the dialogue a bit of breathing space rather than wedged into paragraphs... but hey, I'm being overly picky there  ).

Promising start. You've got yourself a new reader with me. Bring on the next post!  

Spider J


----------



## Aneul (Oct 30, 2005)

End of Term tests are making my schedual a bit tight this weekend- so I'm posting the next update on Halloween, the atmosphere of which it fits quite nicely. 
Its always a delight to hear that someone likes my work, Spider-J. More is comming.


----------



## Yzak (Oct 31, 2005)

*I play in this campaign!*

I play as Ygred, even though the name is actually Yzak and that needs to be fixed   haha... yes, it from Gundam Seed if anyone watches. I just made this account to perhaps give the perspective of my character, clear up some of my actions, etc, for eventually i will unleash the power of my back story to the other players, and it might make more sense if I were to explain a couple things from my perspective. Not much needs to be noted in this section, but while Nwm was unconsious during the battle at the end I slew at good number of undead by lighting a flask full of whiskey and throwing it into the approaching horde, and our DM is awesome for letting me do that  . Thats about it for now, good stuff so far!


----------



## sirfiori (Nov 1, 2005)

*pulls off mask*
I am Eromil and my character is pretty well written so far and will add some thing from my eyes


----------



## Son_of_Thunder (Nov 1, 2005)

*Good Stuff!*

I'll chime in with my encouragment as well. Keep writing, I like it so far. It'll be interesting to see how a story hour goes with some well played Paladins in it.


----------



## sirfiori (Nov 2, 2005)

you'll see you'll see. MAHAHAHAHAHA. i cant wait to find out Yzak's back story and to learn common. All the lines I say are translated by Nwm. Also while the paladins were with the ham. I was with the elves in the camp,  and learned that my tribe is unknown. I began to learn common for a elven healer.


----------



## Aneul (Nov 2, 2005)

Sorry about the delay everyone- my laptop crashes every time I try to acess th internet- so I'm typing from my mom's hideously slow old Imac. Unfortunately, I've got the storyhour on my laptop, and since I can't Email it to myself, I'm not going to be able to post the next update (or possibly two) until either: A) my laptop gets fixed or B: I bribe a friend into letting me use one of those little portable USB clips which you can transfer information with to put my storyhour on this computer and post from here.


----------



## Aneul (Nov 3, 2005)

*Better Late Then Never*

As Nwm drew himself up against the wall, wounds stinging, in preparation for what would likely have been an arduous speech on the nature of the Paladin’s duty to his Lord and people, the shout of a soldier cut him short.

“Nwm and Ygred of Naschres! The Lord Commander would have a word with you.” The soldier beckoned to them. Ygred and Nwm glanced at each other.

“What does the man want?” Queried Eromil.

“The Lord Commander sends for us.” Nwm answered. The guard struck the cobblestoned impatiently with the but of his spear.

“The elf can come too! Now, follow me!” The man set off without another word, cloak flapping in the chill morning breeze. The trio followed. Winding their way past clumps of wounded men conversing in worried undertones and knots of anxious women and children, they soon found themselves standing outside the Commander’s keep. Although the Keep was located in the heart of the fort, it seemed that the guards at its doors had been doubled. 

The newly reinforced guard waved them inside without a word, and a page guided them to the Commander’s chamber.

Nwm and Ygred stepped inside, taking seats on a rough wooden bench against the wall. Eromil slid in after them, gravitating to the shadowed corner by the door. Across the room, the Lord Commander sat behind his war table, conversing quietly with a small man bedecked in stained hunting cloths and battered leather armor. As the door closed behind Eromil, the Commander looked up.

“Ah, Ygred and Nwm of Naschres. I’m glad you were able to come so promptly. May I introduce to you Yeth Mogrin, our foremost scout.” Here he gestured to the small man beside him. Although Nwm and Ygred nodded their greetings to him, Yeth made no indication that he had even noticed the paladins. The Commander continued.

“Yeth is one of the only men I can trust to go into the Rotwood and come out in one peace. I’ve brought both him and you here fore a reason.” The Lord Commander paused here, unfurling a map as he did so. Hope swelled in Nwm's chest. The Commander was going to send them to Naschres- as much seemed obvious.

“Recently, there have been reports of a large settlement of humans several days journey northwest of here into the Rotwood. I-” Nwm stopped him in mid sentence.

“Respectfully, Lord Commander, Naschres is located to the northeast.” The Commander stared at him for a moment.

“I am well aware, Nwm, of the aledged location of your fabled Naschres. You will find, though, that we are not discussing a mission to Naschres. As I was saying, there are claims of a large settlement to the northwest. I wish Yeth to lead you, Ygred, and your companions, to determine weather the rumors are true, and, if indeed they are, to return post haste to me with the information necessary to lead a contingent of men to the colony and ensure their safe return here.” 

“My Lord Commander” growled Nwm, “I would question the wisdom of your decision.”

“That is not your place, half-elf!” The Commander answered with a sharp glare to Nwm.

“Never the less, I will speak. One day ago, before you had lost a third of your men to the undead, you refused even to consider an expedition to Naschres, a colony of who’s existence Ygred and myself are proof, on the grounds that you did not have enough men to spare. Now, though your forces are thinned, you send your finest scout to search for a colony ofwhich only rumors exist! Furthermore, while it is not my place to question you, neither is it your place to order Ygred or myself, let alone Eromil.” Nwm was standing now, as was the Lord Commander. Through clenched teeth, the old man hissed-

“While you, be you man, elf, or mutt, avail yourself of the shelter of my fort, you will follow my orders, or you will leave.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, the Lord Commander looked away.

“However, as I am not an uncaring man, I will make you this deal. Go with Yeth, and guide my soldiers to the colony should it exist, and I will see to it that a unit of men are placed under Ygred’s command to return to Naschres.”

“Agreed.” Nwm and Ygred spoke as one. Eromil moved forward, and whispered something to Nwm. Resisting the urge to smile, the paladin turned once more to the Lord Commander.

“My Lord, my companion would make a request of you.” The Commander did not look up, but with an air of boredom waved his consent.

“As he has not ties to Naschres, and does not consider himself under your protection, but that of the elves, Eromil demands payment in return for his oath to accompany Yeth Mogrin into the Rotwood.” At this, the Lord Commander snapped upright, his eyes bulging.

“And what-” he spat, “- form of payment does the ask for?” Nwm focused his gaze respectfully at the floor, and answered.

“A horse, mylord.” The Lord Commander’s face turned a brilliant shade of red.

“Your friend should count himself lucky that I do not have him hanged for his insolence! If he is under the protection of the elves, then beg them for a horse! As should you, impudent churl!” Although the tips of his gently pointed ears flushed at the insult, Nwm kept his face rigid, and as he and Ygred bowed their leave to the commander, spoke, more to himself then to the Lord.

“Save your wrath, I am but a messenger.” As the door closed in front of them, Nwm caught a glimpse of the Commander’s face, now livid with rage. It was obvious from his expression that he had heard.

						***	


As soon as Ygred, Eromil, and Nwm had left the keep, the scout Yeth Mogrin stepped out from the shadows of a nearby cluster of houses and fell into step with them.

“We will set out at first light tomorrow.” Yeth intoned blandly, eyes locked on the horizon. “I am stopping by the warehouses to aquire a few essentials. You would do well to come with me if you need for anything before we enter the Rotwood”.  Without turning to see if he was being followed, Yeth abruptly veered into an alleyway, apparently making for the storehouses. Nwm and Ygred pressed after him. Catching up to the scout, Nwm tried to draw the man into discussion.

“I would have you know; I will follow your every order and guard your life with mine, for you are our best hope of fulfilling the Lord Commander’s requests and thereby securing warriors for the cause of Naschres. You seem an experienced man, how long have you made journeys into the Rotwood. I myself came from its depths, and barely reached its border with my life.” Yeth snorted mirthlessly.

“You’ll follow my every order because if you don’t, you’ll die alone in the forest, and your corpse will join the host of the dead. As for my experience in the Rotwood, I’ve lived in it my entire life. There is no other place for a man such as myself.” 

Taken aback, Nwm fell a few steps behind the scout. Ygred smirked at the other paladin’s obvious surprise at being addressed so tersely. Once they were several paces behind Yeth, Ygred whispered to Nwm.

“Look at his spirit, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Nodding, Nwm slipped into the spirit sight. The cloaked shape of the scout before him was suddenly sheathed in a nimbus of light and shadow. Glowing strands of gold woven amidst thick cords of inky blackness writhed over Yeth like a mass of snakes. Nwm didn’t know what to make of it. Good tainted with evil, or evil flavored with good? He reverted abruptly to normal vision at the sound of Yeth’s mirthless laugher.

“So you’ve seen my spirit? I’ve heard that some Knights can do that- the Lord Commander claims the power, but I doubt he has it.” Yeth gazed appraisingly at the startled Nwm. “So, what do you make of me, Paladin?” As Nwm struggled for words, Yeth turned his back on them once more.

“Never mind, I don’t really want to hear. There's nothing you can tell me I don’t already know myself.”

The rest of the walk to the warehouses was passed in silence. The warehouse manager apparently knew Yeth from prior experience. The two nodded to one another, Yeth handed the manager a slip of hide, and a page was dispatched to aquire the listed items. With the return of the page, Yeth set about inspecting the bundle of gear, paying no more attention to either Ygred and Nwm or the manager. 

Needing no additional supplies of their own, Nwm and Ygred stood awkwardly behind Yeth, unsure of what to do. The man continued to ignore them, so after several minutes of silence, Ygred bent down and taped Yeth’s armored shoulder.

“Sir, if you have no further need of us, could you tell use where and when you expect us to be waiting to depart tomorrow?” Without raising his head, Yeth muttered.

“First light, forest side gate.”

The Paladins left, Ygred in the direction which lead to both the Temple of Hypatia and the soldier’s mess hall, and Nwm towards the elven trade encampment, Eromil’s most frequent haunt.

						***

At dawn on the following day, the three made their way to the forest side gate, where they found an impatient and irate Yeth already waiting, a light pack strapped over his armor, and a crossbow hanging from his belt. Silently, Yeth motioned for them to follow, and slipped through the gate. 

They reached the edge of the Rotwood in under and hour. Despite the bright morning sun, the Rotwood was blanketed in gloom, the thick canopy of pines let little light reach the forest floor. Yeth lead them into the forest, placing a bolt in his crossbow as the shadows engulfed them. Although still visibly wary, Eromil noticed that much of the scout’s apparent tenseness fell away once they were a little ways into the wood. 

After some hours, Yeth signaled the party to a halt. 

“We are nearing my house, and I will need to visit it before we can travel any further, there are certain items there I must retrieve. You may come with me if you wish, or you may wait here for my return.”

Ygred made to follow the scout, but Eromil shook his head. 

“I don’t trust this Yeth. He could be leading us into a trap- what kind of man lives in a place such as this? We should remain here.” Nwm translated the elven for Ygred, who stopped, and responded.

“He could just as easily lead some horrid creature back to us while we wait blindly in this gloom for him. I’d rather keep and eye on Yeth and risk a trap then remain in the middle of this godforsaken wood, waiting for fell things to smell us out and find us.”

“Well, atleast you show some sense, Paladin.” Yeth was leaning against a tree, with an almost amused expression. “I’ll be leaving now, those of you who wish to keep an eye on me can come, and the elf can stay here if it pleases him.” The scout began to move off even as he spoke. Ygred and Nwm glanced at Eromil for a moment, and then set off after him. The elf cursed and knocked an arrow to his bow before following the Paladins.	

Yeth cut a ridiculously winding path through the wood- as though he feared being followed, coming to a sudden stop at the foot of a small, vine covered bluff.

“Wait here.” The ranger whispered, before pushing back the vines to reveal the mouth of a small cave, which he disappeared into.

After a few moments, the man reappeared, an additional bundle slung across his back, form which the tips of a bundle of crossbow bolts protruded ominously.

“Well, you can tell your pointy eared friend it wasn’t a trap after all.” Yeth said with a smirk. “Come on, we’ve along way to go. Reports of the colony place it several days march form here.”

“You mean you’ve never actually been there?” Said a surprised Ygred.

“No one has.” Returned Yeth as he broke into a brisk jog. “The Lord Commander heard of the place two years ago, but the last expedition he sent out never came back.” Nwm’s face twisted with disgust.

“What motive can he possibly have for refusing to come to the aid of Naschres in favor of unfounded claims that have been stagnating for two years?” Yeth noted Nwm’s expression and nodded.

“I was wondering that myself. The Lord Commander is a corrupt man, though. You saw the way he doubled the guards on the keep after yesterday’s attack, yes? I suspect he has some personal reason for not wanting contact with Naschres, although I can’t think of what it might be.”

The party trudged deeper into the Rotwood. The mass of fallen leaves blanketing the forest floor soon gave way to shallow pools of stagnating water. The trees around them also began to thin, affording a glimpse of the evening sky now and again. Eyes focused on the setting sun and crescent moon now sharing the sky, Nwm’s heavily booted foot landed in a deep pool. Mud squelched around his ankles, and he sank almost knee deep in the mire before Ygred and Eromil could pull him out. Yeth bent to examine the ground.

“We are entering a marsh. I have passed this way once before- do not step anywhere I have not. The marshes of Rotwood are both treacherous and deadly.”	

Yeth hefted his crossbow to his shoulder before gingerly easing his way into the marsh. For a moment, the moon’s light caught the weapon’s stalk, revealing a strange mark- curved at both ends like a figure eight, but neither connecting, and marked over its center with a trio of stars. 

“What is that mark on-?” Ygred ventured to ask.

“Hush! Do not speak so loudly, better not at all. We are not alone in the marsh.” Yeth hissed over his shoulder.	

Sure enough, as they made their cautious way through the bracken, faint splashes and the squelching of the bog could be heard on all sides. Once or twice, Eromil’s sharp eyes picked a vaguely humanoid shape out of the mist, but the things were gone so swiftly that he could never be sure he’d actually seen it. 

Yeth stopped abruptly on a small spit of land, motioning for silence. The unmistakable sound of feet stomping their way through the watery ground filled their ears. Four shambling forms moving at an astonishing rate came charging through the mist before them. Faint lights burned in their eye sockets, and their ungainly gait was not that of a living creature.

“The Dead.” Breathed Yeth. In a fluid motion, he shouldered his crossbow and loosed a bolt at the foremost figure. The projectile slammed into the zombie’s chest, and the creature issued an inhuman howl as it fell into the water, clutching madly at the bolt asthough it burnt.

Standing at the edge of the small island, Nwm watched in horror as a second zombie leapt into the air, vaulting the deep pool separating it from the party. Eyes aflame, the creature hurtled forwards with an erie wail. Nwm caught the monster’s flying form on his shield, and rammed Exile into its throat, cutting the thing’s howl short. With a shudder, the creature yanked itself free of the blade, and toppled backwards a few steps, head hanging limply from its nearly severed neck. To Nwm’s right, Eromil found himself beset by the remaining two zombies, the combined attacks of which were slowly pushing the elf towards the murky water beyond the island.

As Ygred lunged, sword in hand, to face the zombies assailing Eromil, a burning pain lanced across his back. Nearly dropping his sword, the paladin spun about to find himself confronted by a dripping corpse clad in the remains of chain mail. Thrust through each of its palms were foot long spikes of iron- one of which was dripping with fresh blood. The abomination’s jaws speed unnaturally wide, and it lurched towards Ygred. This time, the knight was prepared, and he brought his sword up to block the thing’s augmented attack. Sword met spike with a shower of sparks, and the two struggled for a moment, neither able to overpower the other, neither willing to disengage- until a crossbow bolt tore into the zombie’s chest, sending it stumbling back into the marsh clawing at the wound.

After several more moments of frenzied fighting, the zombies were destroyed. Wearily, Eromil, Ygred, and Nwm set about binding their wounds. Yeth stood above them, surveying the misty swamp with a worried expression.

“We need to move. The sounds of battle will have drawn the attention of the other denizens of the swamp. If we make haste, we can be out of this marsh before midnight- and after that, its only a day longer to the reported location of the colony.”

Under Yeth’s urgings, the party trudged onward. Just as the moon began to sink into the horizon, they reached dry land. As the party prepared their camp for what little of the night remained, a high pitched wail echoed from the forest beyond.

“What was that?” Asked Ygred warily.

“The screams of dying deer.” Yeth responded grimly.

“Why would the dead be killing deer?” Nwm wondered allowed.

“They seek to starve us- and deer were a principle source of our food before the forests became unsafe.” Yeth wrapped his cloak tightly around him and spoke no more. 

						***

The rest of the night passed without incident, but was frequently punctured by the screams of deer. When dawn broke, Yeth was already breaking camp. After a meager breakfast, the four set out on the final leg of their search. The forest thickened around them as the hiked north, and the land became steeper.

At the top of one tree covered rise, Eromil paused and shouted-

“Look! Smoke on the horizon!” Sure enough, a thick black cloud could be made out hugging the treetops in a valley several miles off. Yeth cursed at the sight.

“I fear we may have come to late- but we shall see when we reach the source of the smoke. Perhaps it is nothing more then a forest fire.”

With growing trepidation, the party made towards the smoke enshrouded valley. An hour latter they reached the lip, and stood for a moment taking in the awful sight bellow them.

A great walled town lay burning in the valley. The wooden palisades were torn and scorched in many places, and that thatch roofs of the buildings belched clouds of smoke into the sky. Signs of battle were everywhere, arrows lodged in trees, broken weapons littering the ground, but not a single body was to be seen.

Mutely, they descended into the town, wandering aimlessly amongst the smoking ruins. 

“The dead clearly attacked here, but where are the bodies of the defenders?” A bewildered Nwm asked. Yeth spat into a nearby blaze before he answered.

“The dead take them, back to whatever foul creature they call master. Its is their means of propagation. With each fort that falls, their ranks swell.”

As they spoke, Yeth had been leading the others towards the center of town. Suddenly, he stopped. Pointing across a scorched town square, he indicated a single unburned building.


“ If there are any survivors, that's where they’ll be.” Crossbow in hand, Yeth jogged towards the building.

Pushing past a partially unhinged door, the party was greeted with a strange sight. The common room they entered was in near perfect condition. The table was set with a complete meal, now swarming with flies and their maggots, but otherwise undisturbed. In sharp contrast, the woolen rug covering the floor was stained with blood, although still lying smoothly.

As Eromil and Nwm searched the bottom floor, Yeth and Ygred made for the upper story. After a few moments, Yeth shouted something indecipherable, drawing Nwm and Eromil from their respective searches and up the stairs.

Ygred was waiting for them at the top of the stairwell, and the three made their way to the end of a long hall, following the sound of Yeth’s now distinct voice.

“...It seems like there was some sort of scuffle in here, but I can’t tell what exactly happened.” The ranger was muttering as the others entered his room.

Yeth stood in the center of what was clearly a bed chamber. Blood covered the floor, and the shutters of a large east facing window in one wall were cracked and thrown open. Yeth bent to examine the floor, and the other three turned to regard the room.

A dressing screen of stretched hide obscured one corner, while a child’s bed filled the other. In the southern wall, a large closet stood with its door slightly ajar.

“It seems like someone lay here, and then...stood up? But with all this blood that would-” Yeth never finished his sentence. As Nwm, the last of the three to enter the room stepped towards him, the room burst into motion.

From behind the dressing screen, the animated corpse of a young woman, her hands disfigured into bloodied claws leapt screaming towards Eromil. As Nwm yanked Exile from its sheath, the blankets of the child’s bead exploded upwards, and the tattered form of a toddler, reddish lights gleaming in its empty eye sockets lunged towards his throat with un natural agility. Even as Yeth reached for his crossbow, the closet door was flung wide, and into the room stepped the grizzled shape of a young man.

The experienced ranger nearly dropped his weapon with horror as his eyes fell upon the obscene symbols carved into the undead flesh of the man. As his companions struggled with the lesser dead around them, the ranger’s shaking hands leveled the crossbow at the fiend before him. Even as the holy bolt whistled from the weapon, the patterns on the corpse began to glow an eerie purple. Yeth felt the energy drain from his limbs. He toppled to the ground, unsure of whether his bolt had finished the monster off. 

While Ygred and Eromil fought furiously to prevent the adult zombie from reaching Yeth’s still form, Nwm struggled with the undead child. The thing was strong, its arms latching around his neck and its unnaturally pointed teeth digging deep into his shoulder. Dropping his sword in pain, Nwm slapped his hand across the child’s face.

At once, time seemed to slow, and the paladin felt a strange force rush through his arm into the zombie. The corpse screamed, and dropped from Nwm, face smoldering with silver fire. Nwm dispatched of the writhing child-thing with a vicious kick, strangely exhilarated and dazed. Retrieving Exile, Nwm spun about just in time to see the Eromil and Ygred moving to confront the last standing zombie.

Bands of black energy crackled along the markings on the zombie’s arms as it reached out towards Nwm. At once, the Paladin’s joints seemed to seize up with soreness and his legs trembled under the weight of his body. The paladin toppled to the ground, caught in the same perversion of slumber that had seized Yeth.

						***


When Nwm awakened, he found himself propped against a cold stone wall. For a moment, he though himself back at New Fort, but as his vision cleared and the sent of smoke reached his nostrils, he remembered. Looking around him, Nwm realized he was sitting against the side of a well. Next to him lay the still form of Yeth, apparently still asleep. As he stood, Nwm noticed a rope leading down into the well, with Ygred holding the other end.

“Ah, your awake!” The human Knight exclaimed. “I had a devil of time convincing Eromil of what I wanted, but his command of our tongue is improving, as is mine of the Elven language...”

“And what exactly did you want?” A puzzled Nwm queried.

“Look down the well.” The other paladin smirked. 

Sure enough, on the other end of the rope was Eromil, rappelling down the side of the well, torch clenched between his teeth. Unsure of whether or not to laugh or reprimand the two, Nwm called down to Eromil.

“What are you doing?” Eromil paused, and shouted back up.

“Ygred kept going on about the state of the water, said he wanted me to bring back a flask of it to examine... atleast that's what I think he wanted. Although I’m not sure why that necessitate me going down here...could have just used a bucket.” Shaking his head, Nwm turned to Ygred.

“What is this about.” The other paladin’s face was deathly serious as he replied.

“Nwm, you remember, before we set out from Naschres? The water in our wells turned black and congealed. If the same thing  has happened here....”

“Then it might be a sign of the dead preparing to attack.” 

“Right. And I needed Eromil to go down, because if it has congealed, the rope will not be able to hold the weight of a bucket full of the stuff, although I’m not sure he knows that bit.”

Nwm laughed, and was about to respond, when Eromil shouted in pain. The rope went taught. Nwm grabbed the loose end, bracing himself against the sudden pressure on the line. Voice cracking with pain, Eromil screamed upwards.

“Something is in the water! Its got my leg! Pull me up- Aghhh!” Despite the efforts of the paladins, the rope slowly began to slide into the well. After an agonizingly long minute, the Knights had lost several feet of ground, and Eromil had been reduced to sobbing in pain. 

With a curse, Nwm secured his end of the rope around a sapling, hoping the small tree would hold long enough. Dropping his shield to the ground, Nwm began to remove his armor

“What are you doing?!” Screamed Ygred.	

“We can’t pull him up, so I’ll have to try to kill whatever down there!” Nwm shouted back, his armor coming loose. Grabbing Exile from the ground, the Paladin charged towards the well, and leapt over the edge.

The water at the well’s bottom was of the consistency of mud. Scrabbling against with the rough stones along the side, Nwm was able to find purchase of his free hand and two feet. In the second it took him to secure his footing, his eyes had already began to scan the water for signs of Eromil’s attacker. Following the elf’s leg into the murk, Nwm made out a faint- glow?

He squinted and then balked in horror at the luminescent hand which was clutching Eromil. Summoning the remnants of his strength, Nwm focused his righteous conviction into Exile, and plunged the weapon into the water by Eromil’s trembling form.

With a wail, whatever the arm belonged to let go of the elf. Hearing the cry, Ygred hauled viciously on the rope, and Eromil was pulled to safety. The rope was lowered back to Nwm in a matter of seconds, and the waterlogged Paladin found himself spitting muck from between his teeth a few moments later.

Exhausted, the three slumped against the well, panting for breath.	

“What was that thing?” A grimacing Eromil demanded. “It felt like its claws were inside of me, but there's no blood, not even a scratch.”

“I don’t know” ventured Nwm, “But when I stabbed it, I didn’t feel any resistance, more of a tingling sensation in the sword arm actually...” About to speculate further, Nwm stopped suddenly.

“Listen!” From the forest beyond issued a feral, strangled scream.


----------



## Steverooo (Nov 5, 2005)

*Wounds?*

When this last bit began, Nuum was wounded, and unconscious...  Then, he wakes up, and gets summoned to the Lord Commander of the base, who sends him off, unhealed?  So when they encounter the undead, and he climbs down the well, he's wounded even worse, and with only one day's natural healing?!?


----------



## sirfiori (Nov 5, 2005)

there is like 1 day after battle they are healed by elves. then after the swamp 3 days travel. Also btween the swamp and the village is a field where the party sees undead kill deer and take the hoofs. The spellcasting undead had an unholy symbol which was used as leverage. Eromil tried to light the swamp on fire and had his flint and steel taken away. So he traded the symbol for the flint and steel from Ygerd. The paladins then destoryed the symbol.


----------



## Yzak (Nov 5, 2005)

Although its umentioned in the story, we actually got healed by priests for a bit, and the journey through the swamp took a few days. Also, upon reaching the town, I and Nwm reached level 2, granting us the Lay on Hands ability. All of this was probably cut out to make the story more enjoyable, but if its really bothering you, theres the logic behind it.


----------



## BLACKDIRGE (Nov 5, 2005)

I like this. You have a nice crisp style that allows the reader a clear view into the minds and motivations of your characters. I look forward to more.

Blackdirge


----------



## Aneul (Nov 6, 2005)

Oh- forgot that people needed to heal or they die- was getting carried away with the drama of writing  
As I've said to everyone else, Blackdirge, Its a delight to get positive feedback.
Expect a double update this weekened- becouse I missed this sunday's session, I'll be working off notes so it will be a bit short, and I'll be able to couple it with last week.


----------



## sirfiori (Nov 7, 2005)

I have the notes. Lets just says IT ROCKED!


----------



## Aneul (Jun 22, 2006)

*Readers may have noticed that there are now two "Amidst the Ruins" threads on this forum. The other one is a mistake on my part, please let it die (and I apologies for clogging things up).
*Okay, it's been ages since I last posted- evidently, I can't keep to the weekly update schedual, so I'll just leave it at "this storyhour will be sporadicaly updated as the mood suits its author". 
*A note to readers- Ygred's real name is infact "Yzak"- I'm not sure why I had such difficult comprehending that durring the writing of the first two instalments, but from now on, Yzak will be Yzak. Sorry about that, everyone (especialy Yzak and his player).
*And without further adue, back to the story!

***

“We need to get out of here. The dead are returning.” Rasped Yeth from his position on the ground. Apparently, he’d woken up at some point during the well-episode. The ranger got to his feet, teeth clenched in apparent pain. Beside him, Eromil stirred feebly. Despite his efforts, it was soon apparent that the elf would be unable to rise. His leg, it seemed, was broken.

“Do we have time to make a stretcher?” Asked a worried Yzak. “I don’t see how Eromil is going to be able to run with us, and without a litter we won’t be able to carry him and move at any reasonable pace.”

“There is no time. He’ll run or he’ll die. That is the way of the Rotwood.” Intoned Yeth without emotion. Yzred seethed.

“We can’t leave him.”

“We’ll leave him or all of us will die.”

As the two men argued, Nwm felt something rise within him. The same force which he’d channeled through his palm to burn the dead child which had clung to him could be used to heal as well. Removing the gauntlet from his branded hand, Nwm approached Eromil’s prostrate form. The elf watched him blearily, his face a mask of pain. Kneeling beside the elf, Nwm laid his hand on the now blue flesh of his leg. 

He concentrated for a moment, willing the life-energy to do as he willed. Silverish flames sprung from between his fingers, and lapped gently at the wound beneath them. Color returned too Eromil’s face, and the fires diminished. He starred at Nwm with something like ambivalence. Slipping his glove back on, Nwm helped Eromil to his feet.

“The irony of being healed by a branded hand does not, I think, escape you.”

Beside him, Nwm heard the sharp intake of Yzak’s breath. 

“I can do it too. Just now, I healed myself.” The two Paladin’s regarded each other. “I’ve read about this in several religious texts, Knights who could channel Hypatia’s gift of life with a touch. The only one I’ve ever seen do it before now was Lord Gilgamesh.” 

“We haven’t the time to ponder the nature of your gift, Yzak.” Growled Yeth, and he began to walk, grunting with pain. “If we can get out of here before the dead find us, you might even live to use it again.” The others moved to follow Yeth, glancing anxiously behind them until they reached the cover of the trees.

The darkness of the Rotwood seemed almost a reprieve after the horror of the burnt out settlement. Yeth lead them on until well past nightfall. He aimed, he said, to reach the border of the Rotwood in no longer then three days. The Lord Commander would need to be informed of the destruction of the colony as soon as possible, for such hostile activity from the undead did not often confine itself to a single region.

When they could go on no longer, the party set up camp on a sheltered rise overlooking a large clearing. Leaving Eromil to watch, the others immediately fell into fitful sleep, dreams haunted by the smoldering shells of buildings and the hideous faces dead.

It was close to midnight, and Eromil himself was beginning to feel the gentle pull of the elven sleep-state known as trance. Eyelids fluttering, Eromil was about to nod off when something moved in the glade bellow. 

Shaking himself to full alertness, Eromil’s keen eyes picked out the graceful forms of three deer, two does and a buck, moving cautiously through the tall grass. The elf relaxed, slumping against a nearby tree to watch the gentle herbivores.

Suddenly, the buck raised his antlered head in alarm. Nostrils flaring and eyes wide, the creature’s tail flashed white and it broke into a sprint, careening towards the forest with the does close behind it.

From the trees across the glade, six awkward forms exploded outward, moving with unnatural speed. Falling apart even as they closed on the quarry, the undead howled in something akin to glee as they reached the terrified animals. Woken by the unearthly keen, Yzak, Nwm, and Yeth joined Eromil to watch in mute horror as the the deer were savagely mauled and cast to the ground, life still clinging to their trembling frames. 

One of the zombies knelt to the ground beside the buck, who had remained largely intact topside the raking of undead claws. The deer shied from the ghastly hands reaching towards in, but had not the power to move with more then a feeble twitch. The zombie’s fists closed about the creature’s hoofs, and with a snap broke them off just above the ankle. The deer screamed in pain, even as the process was repeated on each of its remaining hooves. 

The zombies were gone as quickly as they had come, leaving the quivering deer to a slow death. Yeth drew his crossbow wordlessly, walking into the glade. With an expression of profound anguish, he put a bolt through the buck’s head, and dealt similarly with each of the does. 

“They deserved a clean death.” He muttered in an unusually emotional voice. 

***

Two more days of hurried travel brought them to the edge of the marsh (apparently known to those few who entered the wood with any frequency as “Rotwater”). Since they had seen it last, rain had swelled its pools and streams with a muddy torrent. Although the newly claimed waterways were seldom over knee deep, they now disguised many of the perils of the marsh, such as quicksand, making the going very slow indeed.

On their second day in Rotwater, the party was assailed by a small group of zombies which had lain in wait beneath the surface of the muddy water, and sprung up to drag them to their deaths in the murky depths. The creatures were easily overcome, either falling to the warrior’s blades and bolts or fleeing back into the marsh, and any wounds suffered were dealt with by the Paladins’s healing touch.

That night, the party camped on a large burg of land within sight of the tree line which marked Rotwater’s end. Their proximity to the marsh’s border gave them hope and confidence, and so, when Eromil proposed to light a fire, Yeth did not dissuade him as he had done on previous occasions.

With warm food in their stomach’s and the end of the marsh in sight, the adventurers slept almost easily. Even Nwm, assigned to watch for the night, was lulled into complacency by the small comforts of food and fire, and failed to hear the telltale splashing of a body moving through the water until the creatures were upon him.

Rising from the murk with inhuman grace, the emancipated bodies of four human warriors slipped onto the island behind Nwm. Silent as hunting cats, they crept up behind the paladin, pausing for a moment before the foremost leapt upon the knight and sank its teeth into his neck.

Even as he reached for Exile, Nwm knew something was horribly wrong. His limbs move sluggishly, and his muscles tightened unbidden. In a matter of moments, the knight was unable to move, paralyzed by the touch of the strange creatures. 

The four monsters stood for a moment, perhaps making certain that the knight was completely paralyzed, before creeping towards the sleeping forms of Yeth, Yzak, and Eromil. Nwm tried valiantly to scream a warning to his friends, but could only watch in dreadful silence as the things stalked towards the sleeping men. Despite himself, the knight found these monsters morbidly fascinating. They were dead, of that he was sure, for their eyes glowed with the same sickly luminescence as those of the zombies they had encountered earlier, but these fiends were clearly of a different order then the mindless husk that were zombies. Their bodies, although twisted and disgustingly thin were intact- and, more horribly, they seemed possessed of some malign intelligence. Where zombies would have simply torn Nwm to shreds, these atrocities had left him paralyzed to witness the demise of his friends.

As a horrified Nwm looked on, the creatures bent over his sleeping comrades, the firelight casting twisted shadows into the marsh mists. As one, the monsters closed their jaws about the sleeper’s necks. In the moment they awoke, both Eromil and Yeth succumbed to the paralyzing residue coating the fiends’ elongated fangs. Yzak, however, shrugged the paralysis and the undead creature on his shoulders off with grim ferocity. The young knight tore his sword free from its sheath across his back, and rammed the weapon through the torso of the monster who’s bight graced his neck.

The thing’s gaunt frame seemed pathetically feeble as it fell, inanimate, from the paladin’s sword. The other monsters, apparently shocked by the sudden death of one of their own, cautiously moved to encircle the Paladin. 

Although he fought with righteous conviction, fury, and desperation all driving his blade, Yzak knew with horrid certainty that he was outmatched. Faster, stronger, and smarter then the zombies he’d fought before, his assailants attacked in concert, with measured blows and retreats. Over the course of several agonizing seconds, the undead drew blood again and again, while Yzak found himself unable to land a solid blow on any one of the monsters. 

Despair filled the knight, and with despair the paralysis, until now held back by his force of will, began to seep into his limbs. With a final effort, the knight lashed out, knocking one of the monsters into the embers of the fire, were it writhed and screamed, but he could see it was not enough. The remaining two stepped back, waiting to see if the paralysis would take hold. As Yzak slumped, malevolent grins spread across the undead faces before him. One of the monsters moved towards him, clawed hand reaching for his throat... and lurched forwards as a Exile exploded through  its chest.

Taken completely by surprise, the undead shied away from Nwm, who moved to stand over Yzak. With measured thrusts and caution, Nwm held the two remaining monsters at bay. For minutes, the combat continued, Nwm parrying or catching on his shield each blow aimed at him, the undead dodging away from every slash of Exile’s bloodstained length. As the battle dragged on, Nwm’s strength began to dwindle. His parries became more sluggish, his shield arm sore and leaden. The ghost lights in the eyes of his adversaries seemed to flair with eagerness and lust for flesh.

A click echoed through the still air of the marsh, and Nwm felt something hiss past his head. To his right, one of the undead monsters screeched in pain and clawed at its abdomen, where a crossbow bold spitting golden-white sparks was lodged up to its fletching. Moments later, a second dart finished the second beast. Glancing behind him, Nwm’s eyes met Yeth’s. The ranger hefted his crossbow and nodded curly to the paladin, before kneeling to attend to the still paralyzed Eromil.

***

The following morning found the adventurers free of the Rotwater, and nearing the edge of the Rotwood. They hiked through the rest of the day, and reached the border unhindered by the dead. Sunlight greeted them as they marched out from beneath the tangle of trees, and each took comfort as the fresh wind of the plains swept the stench of the Rotwood from their lungs. The party made good time across the plains, reaching New Fort only a few days later.

At the sight of Yeth, the guards at the gate stepped aside, allowing the party entrance. Yeth strode  purposefully through the winding streets of the fort, making directly for the keep. Trailing behind him, Nwm, Yzak, and Eromil watched in fascination as the human inhabitants of the fort parted like water before Yeth, whispering and staring after him with awe, and...mistrust? Nwm shook the thought out of his head- if the Lord Commander saw fit to trust Yeth, than his people had no place to question him. Head high, he speed up, matching Yeth’s pace. To his right, Yzak also increased his stride. 

“Listen to them” Yzak muttered to Nwm. “They’re talking about us.” The half elf pricked his ears, and sure enough, began to catch snatches of the hushed conversations of the commoners.

“Do you think they’ve brought us reinforcements? I’ve never seen those two Knights before...”

“Hypatia knows, we surely need the aid....”

“That's Yeth Mogrin... Now he’s back, I’m sure the Lord Commander won’t hesitate to dispatch an expedition to intercept the refugees...”

Nwm turned to Yzak. “What refugees do you think he means?” The knight whispered. Yzak shrugged.

“Maybe survivors from the ruin we just returned from. We could have passed them in the night, or something like that.” Nwm snorted with derision at the thought. As he opened his mouth to speak again, Yzak stopped suddenly.

“Nwm- where's Eromil?” The paladins scanned the crowed, but there was no sign of their elven companion. Nwm shook his head. 

“I suppose he doesn’t want to talk to the Lord Commander... that does seem to be where we’re headed.” With a laugh, Yzak replied-

“You know, sometimes I think that elf has better sense than we do.” The paladins jogged after Yeth, who had disappeared around a corner of a ramshackle watch tower up ahead. As they rounded the building, the paladins saw Yeth talking to a grizzled man dressed in hide armor, a pair of swords across his back. As the knights approached, Yeth turned to them.

“Nwm, Yzak, I haven’t the time to explain myself, but I’ll need you to report to the Lord Commander in my stead- I’ve urgent business elsewhere.” Saying no more, Yeth and the other man departed, leaving the Paladins standing alone and mildly confused. Yzak grimaced as he watched Yeth stroll away.

“Well, looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

***

Apparently, word of their arrival had reached the Lord Commander before they did, for the Paladins were swiftly ushered into the keep and through the main foyer, where they were met personally by the Lord Commander. The aging man glanced around the chamber, eyes lingering for a moment on a corner occupied by several elves dressed in the robes and headdresses of tribal chieftains, and then with a look of intense displeasure fixed his gaze on the paladins, demanding-

“Where is Yeth?” Yzak stepped forward and with a blank expression responded-

“Sir, Yeth left us shortly after returning to the fort on urgent business. He has instructed us to make a complete report of our mission in his stead.” The Lord Commander sniffed with displeasure, but seemed to accept the statement.

“Come to my chambers then. I’d rather hear your report away from the poi- prying ears of certain....guests of mine.”  With that and a swish of his heavy cloak, the Commander strode off towards his office. The Paladins followed, exchanging amused glances. 

As they followed the Lord Commander through the torch lit passages of the keep, Nwm’s mind wandered back to an odd remark of Yeth’s regarding the Lord Commander.

“...I was wondering that myself. The Lord Commander is a corrupt man, though. You saw the way he doubled the guards on the keep after yesterday’s attack, yes?...”

On an impulse, Nwm slid into the spirit sight, and focused on the Lord Commander. Not sure what he had been expecting to see, Nwm was never the less surprised with the results of his literal soul searching- it was although the Lord Commander wasn’t there at all- no coils of darkness or golden radiance occupied the space within his physical body’s shadowy outline were a soul should be. Confused, Nwm’s eyes refocused in the physical world.

Shortly thereafter, the trio reached the Lord Commander’s office. Two immaculately dressed guards saluted and swung open the heavy wooden door, closing it after the Commander and the Paladins had entered. The Lord Commander sat heavily behind his war table, and fold his arms across his chest, staring with a certain foreboding expectation at the Knights. Nwm took as step forward and began to speak.

“Sir, we entered the forest and made good time, reaching the settlement marked on Yeth’s map with only minor interference from the undead. Unfortunately, upon our arrival we found the place in ruins, burnt to a husk and devoid of any living humans, or corpses. Yeth an-”

With a start, the Commander rose to his feet and cut Nwm off. His face was scarlet with anger.

“Fools! Clearly, you were not fast enough! Had you arrived but a day earlier, perhaps the people of that outpost could have been saved! I send you to rescue an entire village and guide them to me, and you return with news of their destruction! I’m disgusted by your incompetence.” Taken aback, Nwm struggled to find words. Yzak, however, seemed largely unfazed by the onslaught.

“Lord Commander” Yzak growled, “If memory serves, you yourself were not completely certain whether or not this village even existed when you sent us to accompany Yeth. I was not aware that we were intended to protect the inhabitants from the onslaught of the dead, not that we would have been able to do much, had we been there, seeing as whatever force attacked the settlement was able to effectively raise it to the ground. Further, I suspect that the settlement was destroyed some time before out arrival, as the undead seemed to carried the bodies of its defenders, and were somehow able to poison the well water.” The Commander sneered, responding in a voice dripping with venom-

“Poison the wells? A likely story. Why would you have been anywhere near the village wells anyway- I was not aware I’d ordered you to check on the condition of the settlement’s drinking water- rather, I sent you to save its inhabitants and bring them to me.” Recovering from his temporary shock, Nwm spoke.

“Finding the place in ruins, we examined the wells in order to see if the water had become black paste like our own wells at Naschres did before we left.” To his surprise, the Commander nodded and asked-

“And had it?”

“Yes.” Nwm and Yzak stood in silence for a moment, while the Lord Commander furrowed his brow in a apparent thought, before speaking once more, this time in a much calmer, even sympathetic voice.

“You mentioned the contamination of Naschres’s wells once before, I think. A pity, I had not recognized the significance. Since your departure, I’ve received several reports in addition to yours of well poisonings preceding undead attacks. I fear, good Knights, that Naschres is no more. It seems you are without a home now- but, in my infinite generosity, I shall allow you to remain here, if you swear loyalty to this fortress, and to me.”

The two paladins stared blankly at him. In both men’s minds, a fierce struggle between the obedience to authority espoused by the Paladin’s Code and the realization that the Lord Commander had toyed with them like an angler reeling in a pair of fine fish was playing out. Nwm snapped first.

“With all due respect, Lord Commander, whether or not you recognized the significance of our well water being poisoned is a moot point, since you had the sworn word of two honorable knights that Naschrese was in terrible danger. You’ve known this all along, and through your inaction, the fate of every man, woman, and child in Naschres has probably been sealed. Think about what you’ve done- sacrificed an entire town to the dead in order to bolster your forces with the addition of two knights.” The Lord Commander looked distinctly unpreturbed, even smiling sadly as Nwm caught his breath. In the brief silence, Yzak stepped forward.

“I think Nwm’s assessment of the situation is about right- except for his assumption that these two, homeless knights are going to stick around to bolster the exultant Lord Commander’s private army.” The human’s voice oozed sarcasm. With a derisive snort, he rose and made for the door, followed closely by Nwm.

“Wait.” The Lord Commander’s voice pierced the stony silence which had descended over the chamber. “I think you’ll find that Nwm was correct in every aspect of his assessment, if you call to mind the Paladin’s Code...” As if by second nature, the tenets of the Code rose to the forefront of Nwm’s mind.

_Thou shalt be, everywhere and always, the champion of Right and Good against Injustice and Evil.

Thou shalt make war against all that is Evil without cessation, and without relent. 

Thou shalt temper Justice with Mercy, and temper Zeal with Wisdom. 

Thou shalt engage thine enemies with honor and battle them with courage.

Thou shalt respect the weak, and shalt constitute thyself the defender of them.

Thou shalt never lie and shalt remain faithful to thy pledged word. 

Thou shalt lend aide and succor to the ill, and seek to remedy that which ails them.

Thou shalt respect the rightful laws of the land thou art in.

Thou shalt be generous, and give largess to the deserving.

Thou shalt perform scrupulously thy sworn duties, if they be not contrary to the laws or Spirit of the Code. _

After a moment of silence, the Lord Commander spoke again. 

“Thou shalt temper Justice with Mercy, and Zeal with Wisdom. Thou shalt respect the weak, and constitute theyself the defender of them. Thou shalt respect the rightful laws of the land thou art in. In your zeal to defend Naschres, you have spurned the voice of wisdom. Naschres is no more, and to remain bound to a lost cause is a benefit to no one. Likewise, to leave my fortress on a foolish quest for your erstwhile home is to abandon the weak for whom this place is their only hope for survival. Do not forget in your reverence for the dead of Naschres the living of Estrela, who have already come to rely on you for protection.” The Lord Commander spoke as if reciting a prewritten speech, in a powerful voice which at once commanded respect and offered it. Listening to him, the Paladins felt the fires of their wrath begin to abate, to be replaced by cold acceptance and despair.

“A pretty speech, Lord Commander” snarled Yzak, not quite ready to give in. “But you’ve left out that last tenet of the Code you mentioned- why bother to remind us to obey the Law of the land?” With a pained expression, the Lord Commander met Yzak’s eye, and even as his mouth formed the words of a reply, delt a small gong hanging behind his desk a powerful blow with his mail clad fist. At once, the heavy door of the chamber swung open, and a quartet of grim faced guards entered the chamber, swords drawn.

“Because, Yzak, if I must, I will exercise my power as Lord Commander of Fort Estrela to see you clapped in irons and left to whither away in a dungeon.” Nwm’s eyes widened, and his hand flashed to the hilt of Exile, but before he could draw it from its sheath, the tips of two of the guardsmen’s blades were at his throat. The Commander grimaced at him.

“Be reasonable, Nwm. You can not serve Hypatia any better by throwing you life away in service to lost Naschres than you can as my prisoner. The only viable path that remains for you is to enter into my service- into the service of the people of Estrela.”

Nwm’s hand fell from Exile, and his head bowed in defeat. Seeing his comrade’s reaction, Yzak followed suit. The Lord Commander turned his attention to the guards.

“Men, unhand my Knights, and lead them to their barracks.” As the Paladins left the chamber in the company of their escort, the Commander eased back into his chair, lost in thought.

***

Sparks filled the air around Nwm as he put the finishing touches on a powerful greatsword, still glowing faintly red from its time in the forge. In the days since their fateful encounter with the Lord Commander, the dead had been unusually quite, and the army of Estrela was taking advantage of the lull in combat to see to the outfitting of its troops. All soldiers with any skill at metalsmithing had been transferred from guard duty to the forges, where they repaired damaged equipment, or, as Nwm’s case, created new weapons and armor from metal acquired through trade with the elves of tribe Leshme, inhabitants of the tent city which surrounded the fort’s plane side walls.

Satisfied with the quality of his work, Nwm laid his hammer aside and brought forth a smaller mallet and a chisel. Setting the tools against the rapidly cooling elven steel, Nwm etched the words “Zeal” and “Wisdom” along the length of the blade in the elven script used for such work. Presumably, the soldier who received his handiwork would have little idea what the runes actually said, but mocking the Lord Commander in this small way brought Nwm a small measure of comfort. 

The clatter of heavy boots on the cobblestone floor of the workshop interrupted Nwm as he reached for a breastplate in need of mending. Turning slowly around, Nwm found the workshop occupied by half a dozen of Estrela’s elite soldiers and the Lord Commander himself. With a sinking heart, Nwm forced himself into a stiff bow. The Commander smirked.

“You may rise, Sir.” Nwm got to his feet, and stood rigidly at attention.

“My... Lord. To what do I owe the honor of you visit?” In answer, the Commander moved towards a rack of swords Nwm had crafted earlier that day. Drawing the Zeal and Wisdom greatsword from its place on the rack, the Commander examined the weapon with an approving eye.

“I’ve heard good things about your smith work, Nwm, and truly, the rumors didn’t do you justice. If I may ask, where did you learn to smith in the elven style?” Somewhat taken aback, Nwm found himself answering the Lord Commander automatically, even as his mind searched for double meanings in the unusual question, and infact the visit itself.

“Sir, I was raised with the Elves of tribe Brichwing. It is the custom of every elven warrior to forge his own spirit blade as a right of passage. Thus, I learned the art of smithing from the elves, as did every youth of my tribe.” The Lord Commander nodded.

“And learned it well, I see. Its a marvel that the elves don’t recognize the value of their crafts- they could make a fortune selling us their weapons.” Nwm shook his head at the Commander’s comment.

“No, Lord Commander, they couldn’t. You see, a Warrior forges but one spirit blade- no excess metal would be wasted on the creation of swords for the market, to do so would be an affront to ancient traditions. Further, elven culture for the most part has no concept of material value- the elves of Leshme being a clear exception due I suspect to their contact with humans, such as yourselves.” The Lord Commander nodded.

“A pity- that explains why the Leshme will only trade us their metal, not the finished works. So there really is no way to get elven made weapons- accept for through outcasts, such as yourself?”
Nwm gritted his teeth at the title ‘outcast’, but answered once again.

“Well, no, sir, with the acceptation of one practice alluded to in several myths. If an elven warrior is bested in single combat by another elf, his spirit blade becomes the property of the victor, who is made eligible by possession of the blade to challenge the chief of his opponents tribe for rulership. Its a curious custom, not widely practiced anymore... so to answer your original question, no, there isn’t any practical way to aquire swords of elven make, except through the work of renegades or- exiles-” The Lord Commander nodded. 

“A pity” He sighed. Then, with a bow to Nwm, turned to leave. Just as Nwm found himself breathing easily again, the Commander turned back to the Paladin. With a shock, Nwm noticed that the Commander still held his Zeal and Wisdom sword. With a deliberate movement, he unslung his own greatsword from his back, and placed it on the wrack of finished weapons, sliding Zeal and Wisdom into his sheath. “You won’t mind, ofcource, if I replace my old weapon with this one, will you? Its a fine piece of work, and a damn sight better than the blade I’ve been using.”  The Lord Commander spun about and left the shop, not even waiting for Nwm’s accent- not that he could have responded in any other way.

With a sense of irritation, Nwm returned to his work, venting his frustration with each blow of his hammer. No sense in fuming, he decided- better to forget the incident and make up for lost time.


----------



## BLACKDIRGE (Jun 23, 2006)

Hey Aneul, 

Glad to see that you're back at it. I liked your style from the get go, and its an interesting story.

Keep up the good work.

BD


----------



## Aneul (Jun 23, 2006)

Thanks Blackdirge, it great to see that my return has been noticed. For the bits of the summer durring which I'll have computer acess, I'll be trying to update semi-frequently (won't make any more once a week promices to my readers because I realize I won't be able to keep them)- but I expect there'll be several more updates by the end of August. The game has taken some intresting turns since November 05, so the story will have plenty of new material.


----------



## sirfiori (Jun 24, 2006)

Aneul said:
			
		

> The game has taken some intresting turns since November 05, so the story will have plenty of new material.



 lol you can say that again. Actually the game also had a few breaks, during the missing 6 months or so. Also Aneul good job on the story so far, I really like how you show Eromil in the light I see him in.


----------

