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



## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

*Part One: Shadow over Felthera*



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

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

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

*The sub-group of PCs for this first session:*

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



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*EDIT: PC list as of 23rd May 2004: *

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

_By S'mon, Zana's player:  _


*Zana's Story *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

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

*The sole PC for this session:*

*Jezzan Hest* (_randomling_), weaponsmith from Hamra, Erenlander Ftr1


_Jez's background, by randomling: _

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

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

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

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

_By randomling, Jezz's player:_

*Jez's Story: Part One *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

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

*New PCs*

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


_Keeran's background, by Tallarn: _ 

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

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

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

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

_By S'mon, Zana's player:_

*Zana's Story - Part 2 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** 

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

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

_By Tane's player:_



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

_By Tane's player:_



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--- 

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

The letters taken off the goblin courier read:  

_[Colonial alphabet, Orcish] _

"To the Garrison Commander, Hamra: 

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

S."


_[Colonial alphabet, Black Tongue] _

"To Lord Jahzel AlMaeera, Greater Legate, Eisin: 

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

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

Hail Izrador! Hail the Shadow. 

Semelin, Temple Legate, Black Weir, Felthera Front. 

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


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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

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

Here's what becomes visible

_[Erenlander alphabet_


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

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

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


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 26, 2004)

Loren spends a couple of evenings pouring over the letter and comes up with the following transcript:  

"Soldier Legate Rimhelde was observed riding east towards Hamra and Eisin Road with full guard and half a dozen pack horses two dusks ago, she is said to have been ordered North for either promotion or punishment.  

When next Zoidan of Zorgetch comes north with horses to trade it would be wise to arrive early and in force, he has made other arrangements this time.  

Clawed Diggers have been brought in for works south of the hairpin bend in the New Road, possibly a new Mirror, works are supervised by a single legate accompanied at all times by three large black wolfhounds.   Dawn 15 month 5 year 99 LA."


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## Mathew_Freeman (Feb 26, 2004)

Whoops, double post.


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## Mathew_Freeman (Feb 26, 2004)

I'm playing Keeran, the Cha 6 rogue. Note my massive amount of conversation with NPC's in this game.


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 27, 2004)

Tallarn said:
			
		

> I'm playing Keeran, the Cha 6 rogue. Note my massive amount of conversation with NPC's in this game.




 

Maybe copy Keeran's background over to here?

EDIT:  In fact I guess I'll do that.  I'm copying char backgrounds over from randomling's boards, into the posts above where the PC is first introduced.  
Adding player names to above posts, too.


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## StalkingBlue (Feb 29, 2004)

*Tane's account*



Fortunately, the journey North was uneventful. The group again settled into a routine. The two scouts taking point and rearguard with the others paying particular attention to the snow elf on the travois. She was feverish, tossing and struggling at times then alternating with calm and sleep. Naith, her escort seemed cowed, visibly shrinking every time Zana came near him. 

During one of the evenings, Loren, who had been studying the letters recovered from the goblin’s courier pouch intently, gave a triumphant cry. He had carefully moistened the blank sheet of paper, which revealed a coded message. Loren happily settled down to break the code. Whilst it took him a little time, he managed to do so, revealing the following message.  

SOLDIER LEGATE RIMHELDA WAS OBSERVED RIDING EAST TOWARDS HAMRA AND EISIN ROAD WITH FULL GUARDS AND HALF A DOZEN PACKHORSES, TWO DUSKS AGO. SHE IS SAID TO HAVE BEEN ORDERED NORTH FOR EITHER PROMOTION OR PUNISHMENT. 

WHEN NEXT ZOIDAN OF ZORGETCH COMES NORTH WITH HORSES TO TRADE IT WOULD BE WISE TO ARRIVE EARLY AND IN FORCE. HE HAS MADE OTHER ARRANGEMENTS THIS TIME. 

CLAWED DIGGERS HAVE BEEN BROUGHT IN FOR WORKS SOUTH OF THE HAIRPIN BEND IN THE NEW NORTH ROAD POSSIBLY A NEW MIRROR WORKS. ARE SUPERVISED BY A SINGLE LEGATE ACCOMPANIED AT ALL TIMES BY THREE LARGE BLACK WOLF HOUNDS. 
DAWN 15 MONTH YEAR99LA. 

When Loren read out this missive there no one was much the wiser although Zana did mention that she had heard of Zoidan, a horse trader known to her father. The decision was made that it would be best to take the letters to Dargham’s Folly and show them to the authorities there.  

Travelling as swiftly as possible, the newly augmented group entered Vant’s Hollow. Tane breathed a sigh of relief. At least the were now in a heavily forested area. They had some cover. Then it started raining. The rain was solid for at least a couple of days as they skirted the edge of the hollow. It was at this point that the snow elf became conscious of her surroundings. Loren approached and spoke softly to her. Her eyes were able to follow his movements and she was able to understand comments and make voluntary movements. Or so it seemed. Tane wondered how long she had been watching and listening to them surreptitiously before she made her consciousness apparent. It didn’t really matter. After a brief moment her gag came off. Loren seemed abashed and ill-at-ease speaking to the lady. She asked for water. Everyone was curious about her story. At first she was a little wary and defensive but eventually she told the following tale.

“My name is Kiriel. My brother and I, together with several others were instructed to go and collect the essence of a magic node. We managed to do this and then our instructions were to go to Baden’s Bluff where we were to meet some gnomes. On the way there, we were attacked by orcs riding Boros, fearsome beasts. They attacked us using strange skulls filled with malevolent dusts and maggots. I was the only survivor to my knowledge. My other memories are hazy. I remember a dark place, full of rats, damp and smelly. I remember being thrown about on this thing.” She pointed at the travois. “Now, could I please have a little more water, some food and a place to bathe. Then I must get to Carathor, the elven capital in Erethor.”

Jezzt accompanied Kiriel to a nearby pool while the rest of the group continued setting up the camp. Both women came back a little later, with Kiriel looking much refreshed. There was a little more discussion. At Loren’s prompting, Kiriel revealed that she was also a channeler, who amongst other things, had the ability to heal. There was no question that she was going to accompany the group at least until Dargham’s Folly. Further decisions could wait until then. 

The next morning dawned sunny and fine. The group rapidly packed up and made ready. This could be the most dangerous leg of the journey. The small gap of open ground between Erethor and Vant’s Hollow. The landscape was steeply graded and folded. Plenty of cover and lots of opportunity for ambush. Both Keeran and Tane had made this journey before. They were aware that orc patrols tended to travel on the flatter ground of a dried riverbed which led to a dried lakebed. There was a partly ruined stone bridge across this lakebed. Whilst dangerous it was still usable. Both the rogues agreed that it was this bridge that was their best chance to pass unscathed. Kiriel pronounced herself fit to walk albeit still weak so Zana decided she was going to ride the horse.

Approximately two hours after setting out that morning Loren started muttering to himself and looking uneasy. He looked around as if he was being followed. Finally he blurted out to the others that he felt an strange oppressive atmosphere, almost as if all the life was being leeched from the land. His magic certainly was being affected. He said he believed that this was the Shadow of the Dark Temple. Keeran and Tane looked at each other, not really understanding but Keeran dryly informed him that he would certainly keep an eye out for any Dark Temples or Shadows sneaking up on them. 

Soon after this Keeran motioned for the group to stop. A little later he returned with the news that he had spotted a dead orc. He had been transfixed with an arrow. Both Keeran and Zana then went forward for closer examination but found nothing amiss. With even more luck, the orc still had his equipment of which he was rapidly deprived. Moving on, the group saw a large murder of crows in the distance, pretty much at the location of the lake bowl. Using great caution, they moved forward, Keeran on point. As usual, he went ahead a little to investigate further. He came back reporting that a battle must have taken place. He could see the remains of two wagons and the corpses of at least two to three dozen orcs.

Cautiously the group approached the bridge. Two more orc corpses became apparent in the distance. Tane made sure these were looted again. Then the group crossed the bridge without mishap. At the other end they found another orc, this one locked in a death embrace with a wood elf. Travelling further Keeran again came back to tell the group that he could see a little group of figures ahead, seemingly looting orc corpses. With Keeran’s description of their distinctive hairstyles and dress Zana recognised them as orcmen,  bands of men, who preyed on orcs. This could be a great opportunity to gain help to the forest. Zana rode forward with Keeran shadowing her in cover. She approached openly, calling out a greeting. However, as she rode closer she noticed several things. One of the figures had a huge gash across his chest, a gash that should have been incapacitated him. Another figure had one foot twisted backwards. So, ever the diplomat, she called out: 

“If you are not Fell then I suggest you let me know now because you look undead to me”. 

 The figures seemed more concerned about their loot then their status of life or unlife. There was some conversation between Zana and the figures in which they revealed that they were stripping an orc motherwife and Zana became more and more convinced that they were Fell but very recent ones who had not realised it yet. She came to an agreement with them that the group could pass and they would leave each other alone. 

Getting back to the group, she related her dealings. Loren was very adamant that Fell were an abomination and should be eradicated where found. The rest of the group was not as adamant but Tane thought they were more likely swayed by the thought that an orc motherwife could have higher quality loot. The group prepared. Zana rode forward, shadowed by the two rogues. By this point, the Fell could see what was happening and they charged. While they were quite weak, they were using vagrashes making them dangerous foes. The conflict was short, sharp and brutal. Zana, Jezzt and Jarod made a formidable fighting team whilst Tane promised himself that he would spend all his spare time at the bow range practicing his shooting. Yet again he couldn’t hit anything. Fortunately, the group was not relying on his shooting and the group was finally successful. Upon closer examination the group found a breasplate and a bronze amulet in the shape of a skull. Instinctively everyone was certain this was something to do with the Shadow and it was promptly destroyed. 

The group pushed on. It was now almost dusk. They crossed an area that had been recently burned and finally made it into the edges of the forest of Erethor. A vast, tangled, menacing green presence. Loren had mentioned the “whisper” before. Tane didn’t really know what he was talking about but as he entered the forest, the feeling that it was alive was tangible. Even here at the edges of the forest, movement was slow and careful. Tane knew the forest was full of paths but only the elves really knew how to use them. They should be meeting the outer defences very soon.

Keeran came back, looking annoyed. 

“Tane, could you go and talk to these guards. They are convinced we are Fell.” He rolled his eyes. “We have to go through this every single time.”

Tane stepped forward to the edge of a clearing and called out. “My name is Tane and I am from Dargham’s Folly. As you can see, my companion is riding a horse with ease. I will put down my weapons and step forward to prove that I and my companions are alive.” He stripped off his weapons and stepped forward. 

A gruff voice could be heard from the undergrowth. “Well lad, its your turn. Go out there and confirm his story.”

A nervous young man, almost a boy, appeared and carefully held out a knife to Tane, who took it and carefully made a small gash on his hand, which bled freely. The young man looked visibly relieved and Tane called the others. Tom, the young man and Benjin his partner, a grizzled veteran, carefully steered the group through the undergrowth into a treetop structure, a Talann, where everyone settled down to sleep. There was a brief disturbance a little after midnight when a group of elves joined the group in the Talann but little conversation was exchanged and the rest of the night was uneventful. 

The group rose the next morning for the final leg of their journey. An elven guide would take them to Dargham’s Folly where they would report. This journey was again uneventful and took approximately a week and finally Keeran and Tane approached a small collection of buildings within an encampment, which was the closest thing they had to a home. 

Their first port of call was Captain Bernt’s quarters. He hadn’t changed them. They could tell that by the bellows heard through the door. The guard outside asked them to wait and soon two wildlanders exited. The guard announced them. The group entered.

Looking at Tane and Keeran, Bernt exploded: “Where in blazes have you two been?” He was standing next to a map with a variety of coloured tokens and stones. In the corner of the room stood an elven lady whom Tane recognised as Nayeen, Bernt’s elven advisor. 

Tane then gave the Captain a report of everything that had happened to them, introducing everyone and handing over the contents of the courier pouch. Bernt had a quick conversation with the other four members of the group and then sadly removed one of the coloured tokens from the map. After some thought and a perusal of the letters, he turned to the group and said: 

“Well, your best course of action would be to go back to the site near the New Road and harass the building of this Temple. The building is mentioned in this letter. A temple down there would be very bad news for us.”

Nayeen quietly approached Bernt and there was a rapid conversation. Then he turned around and said: “Our elven allies feels that it is imperative that the horse trading situation in the South must be investigated. This matter is of grave concern.”

Zana echoed Tane’s thoughts when she answered: “I feel that this is a more realistic mission for us at the moment as I think that there will be many hundreds of orcs in the vicinity of the new Temple.”

With that the group left. So the next course of action was to trade the goods they had stripped from the orcs. Tane hoped that Dimgol the gnome trader was in the camp. Finally there was the matter of Kiriel. Loren shyly asked Tane to convey to Kiriel that if she wished for an escort to Carathor with her precious drum then he would gladly oblige. Upon hearing this suggestion, the rest of the group was enthusiastic about this idea providing Kiriel agreed. She was more than happy to. 

So Tane and the group were now going to visit the legendary elven capital of Erethor Forest. He was sure this was a journey he would never forget.


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## StalkingBlue (Mar 3, 2004)

*Loren's account*


Loren pulls out a scroll and starts writing. 
Dearest Alhana, 
I am sorry that I have not written to you for a few months, I know I promised to write every fourweeks but I have been so busy! I miss you so much and think of you every day. 

I have not told anyone this but I had a vision of you at your last battle, From reports I heard from survivors my vision must have been at the exact time you died (I am led to believe that this sometimes happens with twins), I saw you surrounded by all those foul disgusting orcs, I saw you 
slaughter several and I saw what they did to you, I will never forget. 

I imagine you would laugh at what I did next, you were always so carefree and easy going, You would tease me about my interest in dwarves and their blood vows, Well anyway, In a moment of 
rage and anger I swore a Blood Vow, I swore to Claim one thousand orcs as a blood price for your death. Not that a thousand orcs hold the same value as you do, Were I to slay every single orc on the planet it could never compensate for your life, Not even if I could step up to Izrador himself and burn him to ash could I claim adequate compensation for you. Never again will I see your (smug, irritating)smile or be teased about my total inability to talk to a woman. 

So far I have slain seven orcs, a good start but still many to go, at first I thought to collect orc ears as trophies but they smelled and quite honestly made me feel sick so I decided instead to collect orc teeth. 

I can see the surprise on your face as you read this, Your calm collected, bookish (boring?) brother vowing to avenge you, but you are my baby sister (by two minutes anyway). And all the family I had left. 

So I left the safety of the forest and got myself assigned to a band of humans, you know how little I think of humans, most are little better than orcs. I remember our long discussions where you would suggest that all our hope lay with these humans and that they had more strength than even they knew. I Believed that humans were mostly a drain on us, that they had little use other than as fodder, and that was the best of them!, the worst of them were minions of the Shadow! So I kept myself to myself and did not really talk to anyone else. 

I do not really know what happened but there was an ambush, most my comrades were killed and I ran, all my ideas of slaughtering orcs had come to nothing, I was so scared! I have never been so frightened in my entire life. 

Somehow I got away and found myself in the company of two other survivors a warrior by the name of Zana and a man called Jarad who I would best describe as a unarmed combat specialist. 

We ran and ran, much of it is a blur to me, Eventually we got to a river, we had hundreds of orcs behind us and a river in front, and I cannot swim! We saw a boat and ran towards it, There was a man on the boat who refused to take us over unless He could have one of us as payment, I 
assumed he was a slaver and decided to end the discussion by colour spraying him, it had no effect! he just laughed! He was a fell and therefore immune, I was so stunned that I just stood there as he charged and attacked me, I remember healing myself a bit and then everything went dark. 

I awoke in a place I did not recognise, I thought I was dead and looked for you, But I then saw the face of Jarad and realised that I was still alive, My two comrades had dragged my for over a day. Rather than just leave me to die, they risked death themselves by carrying me and therefore moving slower. I was amazed that humans could care so much or show so much courage, Much of the next few days are also a blur to me as I got little sleep and had to cast several spells, I came close to dying as I began to power my spells with my own physical energies, I remember being attacked by some orcs which were dispatched through a combination of my spells and the martial abilities of my comrades. 

Later we met up with some more humans and had few more skirmishes. We decided that the best thing to do would be to get back to the safety of the forest. 

I would like to tell you a bit about my comrades. 

First their is Zana who reminds me of you, she is only a fifth my age and already a skilled warrior. Her resilience is amazing, she seemed to shrug of blows that would kill lesser beings 

Jarad is an enigma to me, he seems very calm and collected, but is also the fastest person I know. 

I owe my life to these two and will not forget that. 

As I said earlier we met up with some more humans, there are the brothers Keeran and Tane, Keeran is the most unlikeable person I have met, but I think I could trust him with my life, he talks very little but is a very good scout. With Keeran on point I could almost feel safe, even when being hunted by thousands of orcs! Tane his brother is also very talented at scouting, he is more personable than his brother and more talkative. 

Finally there is Jez another gifted warrior, I am again amazed by how someone so young can be so skilled, but that is just part of the mystery of humans. 

I met a woman and actually talked to her! she is named Krill and is of the Miransil kindred. We met Kiriel as we were trying to make our way back to the forest, she was in a state of delirium and was in possession of a powerful magical item, like heroes of old we rescued her from foul wargs 
and goblins. 


After a few more adventures we reached the forest and got to a place of safety. We are planning to escort Kiriel to the capital, I suspect that it will be a quite an uneventful journey unlike the last few 
weeks. 

This humans are contagious, It took me years to master my craft and I was considered a prodigy, yet in a few weeks in the company of humans I have mastered spells of the second circle!!! 

Okay!! I will admit it, you were right all along, these humans have great value and potential, I was totally wrong about them. In fact my comrades (all human) are probably the nearest thing I have to family since you left me. I can hear you laughing!! but even big brothers can be wrong(sometimes!). 

I have decided to ask these humans if they will help me fulfil my blood vow, each of them has their own reasons to kill every orc they meet but I think they will help me anyway! I know that you 
would approve of me asking them. 

Lory. 


_Loren pulls out another scroll and copies out the first scroll word for word, he then set fire to the first scroll and says a short pray over it as it burns away to ash. Loren then goes to his comrades and shyly, nervously asks them something._


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## StalkingBlue (Mar 13, 2004)

_[Intro for upcoming session posted to players: ]_

Asking around for a safe travelling route towards Caradul, you learn the following: 

There's currently much fighting along Felthera, all the way upriver from the Black Weir at the forest border to the Keep of the Cataracts. There is little river traffic because of that and the route is not recommended. 

Slower but currently safer is the route due west across the forest, aiming to cross Felthera roughly where it meets the river Ceren (the large tributary flowing west-east past Caradul). 
There's a mid-sized Elven town there, Heren-Nín, nestling between the hills where the rivers meet. You may be able to resupply and possibly find an escort for Kiriel at Heren-Nín. 

According to what you can learn, the trip to Heren-Nín should take around ten days one way. The return trip should be several days shorter if you can travel down Felthera at that time. If you don't get horribly lost, you should still be back in time to deal with Zoidan's suspicious horse rendezvous - there's no intelligence on how far the temple excavations near the New Road will have proceeded by then. 

Continuing on to Caradul will take at least another ten days one way, in this case expect that you'll be well into summer by the time you can get back to Dargham's Folly, with the orcs likely in place to begin their summer offensive.


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## StalkingBlue (Mar 13, 2004)

*[Tane's account, by Tane's player: ]*


The negotiations with Dimgol had been completed. Tane gave a sigh of relief. As usual, the gnome was a hard bargainer. Tane still didn’t know who got the better of whom but most of the people in the group either received what they wanted or were going to receive what they wanted. Jezzt looked pleased in her new armour and Jarod started practicing immediately with his great sling. Tane winced as one of the stones flew past the ear of one the children in the camp. He hoped Jarod would get better soon. Keeran was carefully examining his new bow and Tane himself happily jingled a couple of dozen crossbow bolt heads and looked at his new shortsword. He finally had a melee weapon. 

The group decided to escort Kiriel to Heren-Nin, an elven settlement on the shores of the River Felthera , deep inside the forest. The journey would take about ten days. 

Zana decided to stay in Dargham’s Folly. Someone had to stay in the camp to accept the gear when it arrived and Capt Bernt also wanted to talk to her further as regards her experiences with the outlaw group. Dimgol also warned the group that a river journey up the Felthera was out of the question at this time. There was heavy fighting along the shores. Unusually heavy for this time of year. The best route would be to head straight west through the forest. 

As time was of the essence, the group set out first thing the next morning. The sun was shining, everyone felt light hearted and enthusiastic with the exception of Keeran. His mood was not improved when a young boy approached him just outside the camp and attempted to draw him out about his adventures as he was taking point. That was very brief. The boy left very quickly. “Keeran must be in a good mood”, Tane thought. “The boy isn’t in tears.” The day was uneventful as was that night. The second day mirrored the first and at dusk the group reached Treetown, a deserted elven settlement. The group used one of the semi ruined Talanns as a campsite. Just as Tane was woken by Loren to stand his watch, the elf quietly pointed to a neighboring Talann. Several figures could be seen on it. It was likely they had spotted the group but common politeness suggested that any talking should be done when everyone had had a night’s sleep. 

The next morning, Tane approached the strangers. They had obviously been in battle. He was greeted cordially and when their leader was called he recognised him immediately. It was Rennael, Keeran’s and his elven commander, mentor and teacher. Greetings were exchanged and Rennael wanted to know everything the brothers had done. Tane made the introductions and told the story. Rennael nodded politely to Kiriel, but his main interest was in the group’s adventures. At the end he nodded again and was about to leave when Tane asked him about his deeds. 

“We were in the north. There was a group of rotting Uruk and rabid wolves. They are no longer there”, was the laconic answer. It explained the state of some of Rennael’s warriors. 

The next couple of days and nights were uneventful. The terrain changed, becoming more hilly and rocky although still forested. On the fourth day, Kiriel started to tire more easily and she acquired a general gray pallor. Tane feared she had not recovered fully from her previous fever. There was a distinct sheen to her face, she complained of being cold several times although the temperature was normal and her skin had a clammy, moist, feel. Everyone decided to make the best speed possible. The sooner they reached a settlement the better. Once they reached Heren-Nin, hopefully there would be an elven healer there. 

The night passed peacefully but the next day a curious pack of wolves shadowed the group for a time. After some distance, they grew bored and disappeared. Kiriel was no better. By the end of that day, the group reached a clearing, more a burnt section of the forest. Open ground. No matter were, open ground made Tane nervous. Normally he would have advised to go around and use the woods as cover but this would entail a major detour and this was the middle of the elven forest. So the group decided to travel the much shorter distance across. As they approached the middle, Loren whispered that this used to be the elven settlement of Paran. For some reason, it was singled out and destroyed by the Nightking Zarax the Dragon. Silhouetted in the distance, Tane could see very large gray shapes. “Dire wolves” he thought. “What are they doing here”? Others had spotted them as well. They made the best speed they could although they were slowed down by having to support/lead Kiriel. Yet the wolves didn’t move. They just watched. 

“Why didn’t they attack?” thought Tane. He didn’t question their good fortune however and hurried after the others in rearguard. Then he saw Kiriel turn around and almost start back the way they had come. Jarod and Jezzt had to physically restrain her. Loren approached and talked quietly to her. She was shaking her head and pointing back. Loren talked a bit more to her and then stepped ahead, taking her hand. She calmed down and followed him. They group finally made their way to the edge of the clearing and found an animal trail, which they followed. 

Some minutes down the trail, Keeran came running back to the group. 

“Wolves!! Get ready! They’re coming!” 

A short space behind him, three wolves came bounding down the trail. Fortunately Keeran’s warning was sufficient for Jezzt to ready herself for their attacks. Tane realised that the rest of the pack must be nearby. Probably coming in from both sides and the back. The first three attacked and as soon as they did the others appeared. Tane was wrong though. They came in from one side and the back. He shouted at Loren and Kiriel. 

“If you have any magic use it now!” 

Battle was joined. The wolves attacked in a peculiar method. They attacked people’s legs, biting, nipping, trying to hamstring people, experts and making prey fall over. It worked. Keeran fell to the ground. Both Loren and Kiriel used magic but it was eerily ineffective. Loren tried to used his splash of colours which was so good against orcs. Here it barely affected one animal while Kiriel made the very plants and undergrowth grow and grasp at her command but again that barely affected one animal; it did affect Keeran though. The wolves savaged him and he started bleeding badly but they concentrated their attacks on Kiriel. There were ten animals in total. Sheer weight of numbers told. Four got through to Kiriel and attacked her. Soon she was bleeding and unconscious but they still worried at her, making sure she was slain. Then, as if by command, they broke off their attack and melted back into the forest. 

The group looked at each other in stunned shock. Only two of the wolves had been slain. The speed and ferocity of the attack was extraordinary. Keeran was healed by Loren and the group mourned Kiriel. Everyone decided that they should continue with Kiriel’s mission and that the drum must go to the elven kingdom. Loren volunteered to carry it. As a final gesture, Jezzt took her sword and decapitated Kiriel to prevent her from rising as a Fell. She was then carefully deposited in the undergrowth. 

The group moved on now having to find a suitable place to camp. This was now the evening of the 5th day since they left Dargham’s Folly. The group settled down for the night. Almost at the end of the night, Tane was woken up by a scream. He rolled over to see Loren being attacked by many wolves. The camp seemed to be full of wolves. He loaded his crossbow and shot at one. The others woke up. Jezzt tried to get up but was brought down by the animals again and again so in the end she started fighting them from the ground. Their main concentration was on Loren though. They bit him again and again and he couldn’t take their attacks. In the same way as with Kiriel, they attacked several times after he was unconscious as if making sure he wouldn’t rise. This time they stayed to fight. Fortunately the group was able to defeat them. By the end of the fight, Loren was slain, Jezzt was unconscious and bleeding badly and Keeran was hurt. Jarod quickly went to Jezzt and, using a charm taken from Kiriel, he was able to stop her bleeding. 

A dreadful suspicion was creeping up on Tane. 

“It’s the drum. Both of them were carrying the drum. That’s what seems to be attracting these attacks. The wolves singled out the person with the drum both times.” 

The survivors briefly discussed their options. Taking the drum with them was out of the question. They would hide the drum but where? In the end, a hollow tree was found and it was put there, out of the reach of any wolves. Keeran made several marks to be able to locate the spot when he wanted to. The group then decided to move on a short distance and make camp. They had to wait for Jezzt to recover. She had stopped bleeding but she was still unconscious and in danger. Then they had to make their way to the settlement although it was going to be much more difficult without a guide. Finally, Jarod decapitated Loren. 

Finding another site, the group had to wait for two days while Jezzt recovered. It was not possible to move her. At dawn on the 7th day, horses could be heard on the trail. Tane rapidly to scouted and saw two elven riders. He stepped out on the trail and hailed them. 

They stopped and eyed him warily before approaching. 

“Are you Rennael’s men?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who mutilated the bodies on the trail behind?” 

“We did. We had to. We have been attacked by wolves. It was the only way we could think of to stop them rising as Fell. It is the human custom.” 

One of the elves was doing all the talking while the other was just watching. He looked with distaste at Jezzt, who had said that she had decapitated Kiriel. 

“Blood and ashes!” he spat. “Humans”. 

“Look,” said Tane. “Can you take us to Heren-Nin? We have to get there as fast as possible. They need to know what is happening here. Wolves attacking elves in the forest. Have you ever heard of anything like that?” 

First the elves asked, “Where is the drum?” Tane told them. 

Then they conferred among themselves but in the end they agreed. 

The last three days of the journey went smoothly. Jezzt was able to recover a little. When the small group reached the river, they saw a large open space. It was green, lush, dotted with flowers of all types. The effect was stunning. There was an air of serenity throughout the whole area; and everywhere there were elves. Male and female, tall and short. As the group forded the river, one seemed to pay particular attention to Jezzt and then moved away. 

The survivors were led on a path to a platform. There was little ceremony. Soon they were taken into a chamber and faced by three elves. Two introduced themselves as Inahas and Feen while the third didn’t say anything. The questioning began. It was directed first at everyone but then concentrated on Jezzt. What, where, why, how, who. The questions flowed but it was soon apparent that it was a very skillful way of extracting the full story of their adventures quickly. There was great interest in the drum and its location. Early in the questioning, one of the elves got up and stood behind Jezzt, touching her shoulder. 

One of the seated elves said: “I hope you don’t mind. This is the best way to ascertain that we are hearing the truth”. Jezzt just shrugged. 

Finally, after a long time, the elves were satisfied. Then they volunteered what they knew. The drum that Kiriel was carrying was one of five. It was very potent shadow magic called vile essence. The groups responsible for carrying them were to get as deep as possible into the forest and burst it. When they did, the forest defences in that area would be severely weakened. The reason the wolves attacked the group was because they forest was defending itself from enemies. It perceived anyone who carried the drum as hostile. Tane groaned. He didn’t know why Kiriel was carrying it but Loren was totally innocent of any malevolence. 

Four of the five drums had served their purpose. It was immensely lucky and important that the fifth drum was still whole as the elves could now examine the nature of this new threat. The consequences of its use were already dire. The Keep of the Cataracts was under attack. This was unheard of. Keeran immediately volunteered to act as guide to the last drum whenever it was convenient. The rest of the group healed and rested. They would have to go back to Dargham’s Folly soon.


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## StalkingBlue (Mar 13, 2004)

DM's notes: 

The drum the party escorted/carried was one of five the Elves in Heren-Nín by then _knew about_ - but indeed the only one recovered whole. 

During the questioning at Heren-Nín, the Elves asked Jez (but no one else) a large number of strange questions about herself, her family and Hamra.


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## StalkingBlue (Mar 27, 2004)

_DM to players:_
Wrap-up for March 11 session 



It is late evening by the time Inahas and Feen, still quietly grim, appear to run out of questions at last. Guards escort you to a guest tree at the northern rim of the town. An ample meal of roast venison and leaves and nuts is brought, and two channelers are sent to cure Jez and anyone else in need of healing and to examine all of you for signs of fever (everyone appears to be in fine health). 

The next day in mid-afternoon you are once more summoned by Inahas, who is once again in the company of the channeler Feen. Yesterday’s silent, nameless elf is not present. 

Feen greets you more courteously than before, although still with reserve. Inahas merely nods. (Those who have had dealings with elves would know that is not unusual – relations between humans and elves are less than easy in Erethor.) All in all, the atmosphere appears to have improved. 

After an exchange of slow courtesies that Tane manages to manoeuvre through without greater faux-pas due to his superior knowledge of High Elven, Feen glances at Inahas, who nods rather curtly. 

“All of you can understand this tongue, yes?”, she says in careful, mellifluous Erenlander and looks around for confirmation before she goes on, “I understand that you brought the scholar Loren’s blade with you. I would request that you give this sword up to me so it can be returned to his academy, together with his lorebook once that has been recovered with his body. I would also ask for Kiriel’s fighting knife, which we will send to her family once we have been able to establish who and from where she was.” 

“As to you, seeing that certain doubts appear to have been cleared up …” 

Inahas stirs but says nothing. 

“… And seeing that the drum you escorted for a while is so far the only one we may hope to recover intact,” Feen continues, “it has been decided by the Council that in acknowledgement of this debt of gratitude and in respect to ancient alliances, it is right that we should provide each of you with a gift to ease the path that lies ahead of you.” 

“If one of you will volunteer to guide our patrol to the place where the drum is hidden, we will provide the rest of you with supplies and an escort to guide you back onto familiar paths. We will of course later do the same for that one of you who will act as our guide.” 

“Who will volunteer?” She looks around, clearly expecting nothing but acquiescence from the humans – as elves will. 



The gifts offered to each PC: 

Jarod: a masterwork quarterstaff of polished yellow Erethor oak and five shattering sling bullets (+2 damage bonus upon a successful hit). 

Jez: a masterwork longsword and a set of masterwork weaponsmith tools. 

Keeran: an icewood masterwork shortbow (+1 STR bonus). 

Tane: a masterwork light crossbow of polished yellow Erethor oak and ten bolts. 

All the items are of obviously elven design and workmanship. Icewood is a wood from the Veradeen (northern Erethor) that is transparent like polished ice or crystal and is said to hold enchantments more easily than other types of wood. Yellow oak is a heavily grained wood from the south with a warm feel (+1 hardness). 

For everyone who accepts, Feen will bow and present the gift on both hands saying, “In acknowledgement of a debt of gratitude and in respect to ancient alliances.” She speaks Elven to those who understand it, and Erenlander to those who do not. 

Anyone who waits for Tane to go first (and are able to understand High Elven) will learn that the correct reply is, “Alliances ancient and everlasting.”


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## StalkingBlue (Mar 27, 2004)

_Tane's account, by Tane's player_

Having thanked the elves for their gifts and said their goodbyes, Tane, Jezzt and Jarod were about to leave for Dargham’s Folly. 

Then two strange elves approached the trio and took Jarod to one side. A brief whispered conversation followed. Then Jarod turned back to Tane and Jezzt. 

"I am sorry, I must go. There is a grave situation and my masonry skills are needed. Please say goodbye to Zana for me and remember to keep in touch when you can." 

With that, he turned and followed the two elves. 

Tane thought that with the Keep of the Cataracts being under siege, it made sense to get every available stonemason there as quickly as possible. 

The journey back was uneventful and quiet. Tane was getting used to being separated from Keeran his brother, who had volunteered to stay behind in Heren-Nin so he could guide the elves to the hiding place of the drum full of vile essence. Jezzt seemed to be missing Loren. So it was only the pair of them who arrived at Dargham’s Folly. Having thanked their anonymous elven guide they entered into the camp. 

The first person they sought out was Zana. The warrior looked shocked to see only two of them and immediately wanted to know where everyone else was. Jezzt started telling her the story of their journey to the elven town but then asked Tane to continue. She looked too upset to finish the story. Tane did so and saw Zana pale as the story developed. The potential disaster of the drum, the deaths of Kiriel and Loren, the forest defending itself, the questioning by the elves and their particular interest in Jezzt; Zana was obviously upset but she told the group that a new gnome trader had arrived. He was closeted with Dimgol at the moment. The group was also informed that they were to see Captain Bernt as soon as they could. Knowing Bernt, that meant now. On the way there, Zana also told them that there had been a certain amount of tension between the humans and elves in the camp. She said it in a tone of voice which suggested that that was all the camp needed at this time. 

Everyone went to Bernt’s building. They were quickly admitted and inside they found Bernt, Nayeen and a strange elf. This elf was small, dark with long hair and numerous tattoos. Tane recognised him as one of the southern jungle elves. He wondered what the stranger was doing so far north. He didn’t have time to wonder long though. Bernt turned to them and wanted to know what had happened. As with Zana, he was told. He then informed the group that a group had been sent to see if they could delay the diggers and the building of the temple. In the meantime he turned to Nayeen and motioned for her to take over. 

Nayeen turned to the group and said: “You will escort Jan Wym a gnome trader. He has dealt with Zoidan before and has the goods that Zoidan wants for the horses. Those horses are very important to our war effort here. One other thing; above all, your mission is to prevent the capture of the gnome. He is not to be taken alive. That is of the utmost importance.” 

Tane asked: “How many horses are we talking about here?” 

Nayeen replied: “About two dozen”. 

“How are we going to handle twenty four horses. I think the only person who has any experience with horses here is Zana.” 

“That is Jan’s problem. He has done it before. I am sure he will be able to do it again. Anyway, your primary mission is to protect him, remember”. 

“In other words,” thought Tane to himself, “I don’t know but its your problem.” 

Ah well, he would have to remember Nayeen’s words. The horses were very important but the most important thing of all was to protect the gnome and in extreme circumstances prevent his capture by any means. 

Tane remembered the letter which had been recovered from the goblins. That letter certainly suggested that Zoidan was less than trustworthy. It clearly said that “he had made other arrangements” and that he should be met with force. 

Bernt then turned to the group and put a roughly sketched map on his table. He rapidly traced the route the group was to take. South through the forest then into the foothills near the town of Al-Kadil. 

“In the foothills you will meet with a band of orcmen led by Bendo. Be careful of him. We cannot tell how much we can trust him at the moment but he may help you. Go to Dimgol; tell him to give you the barrel of original Goblintongue. You will give this to Bendo as a gift from me. That may make him more amenable. He is a strange one. Difficult to predict. You need to set out first thing tomorrow. Make sure you ask Jan to give you the cloaks. Any questions?” 

Tane said: “Just one. Who is that?” 

“Who?” replied Bernt. 

Tane pointed at the jungle elf. 

Nayeen replied. “This is Apari Ghostwalker. He has some skill in the woods. He will be able to help you.” 

The group was then dismissed and Apari joined them. Tane and the others went to see Dimgol. They found him with another gnome. This one looked considerably older, with white hair and a face so lined and tan it could have been mistaken for cracked leather. 

Tane and the others introduced themselves. 

Tane asked: “Are you Jan Wym?” 

He found two very bright piercing eyes looking at him. “Yes, but its just Jann”. 

“Good. We are your escort. We will leave first thing in the morning. It is good to meet you. I have one question for you. How are we going to handle two dozen horses. Nayeen said you would know how.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, that’s not a problem. We will lead them. I can lead them. We’ll have no problem young one. You worry too much. I can tell. Always worrying. It will happen.” 

Some more conversation followed and then everyone stood up to retire. As Zana was walking away, she seemed to stagger and fall. Tane realised that he had seen her drinking pretty steadily throughout the afternoon and that she was in her cups. Jezzt moved forward to help her and together the two women retired. Tane saw that Jann was aware of the incident. Tane was sure the gnome missed very little. 

The next morning everyone was fresh. Zana did not seem the worse for wear after her indulgence of the night before. There was a brief conversation about Jann’s cloaks. Apari wanted to know where they were and Jan at first pretended that he didn’t know what he was talking about and then compromised by promising to lend them to the group after they left the woods. 

Just before they left, Jezzt came out of Dimgol’s shop clutching a filthy, rusty sheathed sword that was covered in cobwebs. However it was very large and she was grinning happily, clutching it to her torso. 

The group set out. Apari mentioned that he was not only good in the woods but that he also had some magical ability including healing and the miraculous berry that filled one up for the day. Jan had three mules loaded with all sorts of sacks, barrels, bags and sundry containers. Tane scouted ahead with the group arranged behind him. Zana was riding her horse now named Binky. The name had come to her in a dream or so she said. Tane speculated about just how much she had been drinking to get dreams like that. At least the group was now dressed pretty universally in well-made refugee studded leather which meant they were pretty silent. Tane saw that Jann had a suit as well. 

The group made good time during the day and settled down for the night. Tane fell asleep but was then woken up by screaming and shouting. He saw Zana and Jezzt facing away from him, two strangers with bows next to them, Apari up in a tree about to jump down, the mules in turmoil and Jann trying to calm them down. He also heard something large crashing its way through the forest in their direction. He jumped up and loaded his crossbow. He began to see glimpses of a large creature with a very big axe which seemed to be mindlessly tearing its way through the forest, trailing vines, branches and fronds. Tane moved forward and got ready to fire at it. It moved into the open and charged, pretty much ignoring the arrows that glanced off it from the two archers. In the open, it was obviously dead with half its skull missing. Its charge took it next to Jezzt who used her new greatsword to take a large chunk out of it. Even the fell could tell who was the most dangerous in the group and it retaliated with its axe, which smote Jezzt and staggered her. Tane, as usual, missed with his crossbow. Then Zana also hit it and finally the creature fell. Moments later, Zana took hold of everyone and drew them back as a large vine entwined itself around the creature and drew it back into the undergrowth. 

Tane talked briefly with Semmo and Tom, the two strangers. They had been part of a patrol, which had been scattered by this creature, which they called an Uruk. They had drawn it into an assassin vine but unfortunately the uruk was pretty much walking through it. They were glad they had run into the camp as they were running out of arrows and options. Then they decided to try to find the rest of their patrol. An exchange of arrows for trail rations was made and the group went back to sleep. 

The next morning the group waited until Apari recovered and set out. Nothing happened on that day and for the next twelve days after. Then it was time to leave the forest and enter the foothills. According to Jann, there were paths through them. As the group left the forest, the cloaks were mentioned again and this time Jann went to his mules and produced four what he called elven cloaks. These helped the wearers meld into the background and hid one magical aura. Tane considered that his chances of gaining something with a magical aura were slim to none but certainly this melding was very helpful to his hiding skills, especially when added to the amulet he had borrowed from his brother. 

Thus equipped with the cloaks they set out although it didn’t really do much good for Zana while she was riding her horse. Little happened with one exception. Tane heard voices ahead. Running back to the group he asked them to stop while he investigated. Together with Apari he went forward and saw a strange depression ahead. Crawling to the edge, they saw a group of orcs with a leader. Some of them were wounded and one was pretty close to death. The others congregated around him. Tane was pretty sure he knew what was coming next but he left Apari on watch and went to the group. A quick decision was taken to make a detour. Tane signaled Apari back and the group took another direction. The orcs were avoided and the group resumed their journey. Again scouting, Tane this time spotted two humans, orcmen by their distinctive dress and hairstyles. He went back to the group and it was decided that in this case openness was the best policy. So the group now moved forward with little effort to hide and soon they were hailed. Jann seemed to know one of the guards, a fellow named Moon possibly by his strange head, a large round face of which one half was covered with black skin. The whole effect was truly eerie. He and Jann were getting on very well though and the group was then guided to the orcman camp, past approximately another dozen guards. 

The orcman camp consisted of a large structure built against the side of a hill with a tent roof, which was almost leaning against the hill. The tent roof was a patchwork of cloth, skin and other materials, which Tane couldn’t identify. A tunnel mouth, leading to the area under the tent roof, was guarded by two men. Again they were familiar with Jan, who passed them unconcerned. When everyone else tried to follow the gnome the guard stopped them. Tane called out after Jan who confirmed that the group was with him. The guards relented a little but insisted that everyone leave their weapons at the entrance. Everyone did so. Zana refused to leave her sword, calling it a heirloom but she did bind it in front of the guards. Tane managed to smuggle a dagger in the small of his back. Having mostly disarmed themselves, the group hurried into the tunnel. They entered a strange eerie tunnel where their footsteps echoed, no matter how softly they stepped. There were also bas-reliefs on the walls depicting strange stocky but powerful looking individuals. 

Finally they entered into an open area. They saw a figure sitting on a chair on top of a mound to stones and rocks. Jann was already sitting in front of it and looked to be deep in conversation. Another figure was there, a woman, small, dark haired, with a large sword; Tane recognised her as a Sarcossan. The figure on top of the mound, who Tane assumed to be Bendo, was of a large warrior who had seen better days. Once powerful muscles now looked flabby and he had a large, red drinker’s nose. 

The group stood by Jan, who was nattering away. Bendo then turned his attention to them. There were a couple of awkward moments when he asked why they were here and why they were escorting Jann when the trader had mostly been on his own before. Zana explained that this was due to the increased orc activity. He was also put out that when a little further into the conversation, he was told about the orc patrol in the depression. He called for Moon to go and sort it out. Relations improved dramatically however, when the group brought him Bernt’s gift of the barrel. Original Goblintongue, with the tongues in it, apparently was a great favourite. Dinner was served with goblintongue. In fact, everything was served with goblintongue. Bendo consumed a vast quantity of it. After dinner everyone settled down. However, Tane watched and listened as Jan and Bendo discussed business. He didn’t understand any of it but he watched and listened as the gnome practiced his craft, referring to goods, movements and barters made in the past and to be made in the future. All of a sudden there seemed to be a lot of goods on those mules. The woman, whose name he now knew to be Ailar, watched impassively.


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## randomling (Mar 29, 2004)

*Jez's Story*

When Tane and I finally reach Dargham’s Folly, the sun is going down. The first thing I notice as we walk through the gates is Zana catching sight of us, and the look that appears on her face. I can almost read her thoughts – only two of us. We exchange no greetings, just walk towards each other under the heavy load of bad news to be shared. 

“Are they alive?” Zana asks. 

Tane and I share a glance and, in unison, drop our eyes. Suddenly I’m eleven years old again, running home blood-streaked and panting to give my mother the news that her oldest son is dead. “Keeran is,” I say shakily when Tane says nothing. 

It’s the worst news. Zana looks nothing like my mother, but it’s the same expression on her face as I tell her, that same mix of disbelief and pain; and like my mother, she keeps her composure as she asks what happened. “Tane?” I say. 

“Talk,” he replies, but I can’t. I can barely even look at Zana as he tells the long story of Loren’s death and the events that followed it. As he talks, we sit on the dusty ground by the gate. Zana listens silently, shedding no tears, but she uncorks the bottle she’s been carrying, and the three of us drink to Loren’s memory in the dwindling light. 

It’s moments later that we’re called in to see Captain Bernt. Zana takes another surreptitious swig as we enter his building to find Nayeen there, as ever, with Bernt, and with them a dark-skinned elf I haven’t seen before. Bernt tells us he’s already heard of Loren’s death, and with the details brushed over, our briefing begins. 

Between them, Bernt and Nayeen brief us. The mission is, as we’d expected, to accompany a gnome trader who recently arrived at camp. His name is Jan Wym, and he’s going to cement a horse trade that we have reason to expect will go bad. We’re accustomed to letting Zana take the lead with Bernt and Nayeen, but it becomes clear quite quickly that the alcohol is hitting her hard. Tane quickly takes over, extracting the details of the mission from Nayeen, and making sure we’re introduced to the elf, Apari Ghostwalker, who apparently is to be sent with us. 

After the meeting, the four of us go to meet Jan. He’s with Dimgol, an elderly gnome with one of the most optimistic and cheerful manners I’ve ever seen. I can tell from the look on Tane’s face that he doesn’t trust it an inch, and as he and Apari chew over the details of the mission with Jan I make a trade with Dimgol that we’d arranged before I left: my sword, old armour and some javelins for a greatsword. It’s rusted, but it works. When I turn back, everybody’s leaving. As I swing the holster onto my back, I hear a thud. 

“There’s a threshold there,” says Jan, amused. I turn to look – Zana’s fallen at the exit to Dimgol’s shop, drunk. She murmurs something about me helping her to bed, and I put one arm around her, guiding her back onto her feet. It takes a few minutes, but we stagger back to where we’re sleeping, and she collapses onto her bed and passes out, clothed and armoured, bottle still in hand. I draw my new sword, swing it a few times, experimentally, and set about cleaning it, but the day’s been long and I’m too tired to work for long. I curl up near Zana and drop off to sleep. For the first time in years, I dream of my brother. 

Morning rolls around, and we get going not long after first light. I march alongside the gnome as we head south through the forest. Zana rides behind; I keep glancing back at her. Her face is a wall, showing no emotion. 

The day passes quietly but for Jan’s constant humming: out-of-tune folk songs and other melodies I don’t recognise. That night, Jan regales us with stories while I polish up my new sword and Apari makes arrows. I take first watch – a quiet few hours, after which I roll over and sleep, letting Zana take over. I haven’t been asleep long when I feel her foot in my ribs, jabbing me awake. I leap to my feet, greatsword already in hand. Two young men with bows are there, babbling to Zana about a dead Uruk and asking her for arrows. Zana turns some over. She and I stand side by side, swords ready to deal with whatever comes our way. 

We see it then, a huge hulking shape at the edge of our vision. The archers duck behind us and fire a volley; Apari chants and gestures; Tane ducks for nearby cover; a few feet back, Jan is awake and trying to calm the mules. The shape approaches closer; I glance at Zana and change my stance slightly to match hers as more arrows are loosed towards the monster. Then it charges forward, and Zana and I step up to engage it. We strike in unison, but both swing wild. It’s not distracted enough to stop moving, and it pushes past Zana, who tries to stand in its way but falls back. As it thunders past me I lash out with the greatsword, hacking out a lump of rotting flesh. It roars, and turns to me as the archers send out another volley. I swing again: a glancing blow. 

In another second, it’s splitting me open with its axe, a heavy blow that makes me bite back a cry of pain. I can feel the blood seeping into my clothes under my armour, and hear Apari start to form the words of a spell, but stumble to a halt. I raise my sword again, the wound aching with the effort, but before I can strike the Uruk has fallen to the ground: I turn to see a savage smile spreading across Zana’s face. She says something about justice and wipes her sword while I hack into the twice-dead Uruk, disconnecting head from body. Just in time, Zana sees a piece of animated vine creeping across it, and yanks Apari and me back. The vine lashes itself around the corpse and drags it away. At the edge of my hearing, Tane mutters a complaint about the steel. 

The two archers camp with us overnight, and offer us their food in the morning – dried meat and biscuits, which tastes wonderful after nothing but iron rations and magic food since we left camp with Kiriel weeks ago. Needing rest after the disturbance of the night before, the elf sleeps in. When he wakes we’re ready to travel on. 

It takes us a long time to get through the forest to the foothills we’re headed for. On the twelfth day, we finally emerge from underneath the dark branches into real sunlight. No orcs control this land, and summer is upon us, and as Jan hums and chatters pleasantly beside me I enjoy the feeling of sun on my skin for the first time in months. It’s been a long, dark winter. I’m aware that summer sun and freedom are fleeting pleasures; we should enjoy them while we can. 

The feeling of freedom doesn’t last long. It’s late morning when Tane hears voices up ahead, and he stops the party and takes Apari to investigate. Orcs, in a hole beside the road. Nine of them, Tane tells us, and when he describes the grisly scene Jan makes a comment about disturbing them while we’re eating. Zana suggests we detour, taking a circular route away from the beaten track and around them. I agree. I wouldn’t have liked our chances against nine orcs when we were six, and now that we’re four, I like them even less. Zana misses a beat – just a beat – when I mention the lower numbers. I want to kick myself. I know what she’s doing, covering up the cracks, battling on in spite of it; I say nothing. We go around. 

It’s late afternoon when we come across a pair of orcmen lurking behind a rock to watch the road. It’s Tane who spots them first. Jan blithely says that they’re probably here for us. After a few moments of talking to us with obvious mistrust, the orcmen see Jan and start asking about drink. He greets them. One of the men, a large guy with a round face marked with burn scars, is known as Moon. “A half moon,” says Zana under her breath, and I kick her gently; but we’re on our way in. 

We’re led to camp, refusing the orcmen’s offers to carry our gear, and reach a large, patched-together tent leaning against an old quarry wall. Jan slips in and out of our sight, but a pair of guards stops the rest of us: “Who are you?” 

We protest that we’re Jan’s bodyguards, and he calls over his shoulder that we’re telling the truth as he vanishes down the passage. The guards stop us again – no weapons allowed. I look at the guards for a second, then shrug and remove my weapons. Greatsword, longsword, javelins, a dagger from each boot. Tane gives me a look that I can’t – and don’t care to – interpret as I follow the elf inside, hearing Zana begin to protest leaving her father’s sword. 

The passage is long and it echoes loudly as I walk along it in pursuit of Apari and Jan. Finally I reach a cavern. Inside, Jan sits at the feet of a once hugely-muscled man who’s run to seed, and I wonder if this is Bendo. Tane follows me in, and a couple of minutes later Zana joins us, Kursu tightly bound at her waist. I envy her guile a little. Unarmed, I feel almost naked, and more vulnerable among these strangers than I do surrounded by orcs. We talk of orcs and the horse-trade, and Bendo sends Moon and some others to deal with the band we met on the trail earlier in the day. Finally, Tane and I fetch Bendo his whisky. “Genuine goblin-tongue”, Tane proclaims. “With the tongue still in,” I add, though I’m not sure what that means. I find out later: at the meal, Bendo hefts the barrel onto the table and pulls out a collection of tongues on a string before he passes out the whisky. Tane takes a polite sip. Zana knocks back the glass in one go. I watch her as we eat. 

“Are you all right?” I ask. 

“Yes,” she says, not meeting my eyes. She’s lying. If she’s anything like me, she’ll lie and keep lying until she believes it herself. I put my hand on her shoulder, and change subject: two weeks’ practise, and she’s getting very good at shutting the pain out of her face. 

Almost as good as me.


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 1, 2004)

*Apari's Account *

_Apari finds some space and takes time to pray and meditate on the events of the past few days. he starts with a prayer of supplication. _

spirits of the earth strengthen me 
spirits of the air guide me 
spirits of water sustain me 
spirits of fire inspire me 
spirits of my ancestors protect me. 

I feel the shadow all around and can find no release, even in the depths of the forest I find only a little peace, evil seems everywhere and I sense it always. This is the price I pay for the connection I have to the land, The land serves me and grants me power but in return I must feel it’s pain. 

_Apari spend time praying for each of his companions. _

I have fallen in with some interesting people, I am certain that they are heroes in the making, if they survive long enough. 

There is Tane who moves as silently as my kinsfolk, and is difficult to spot even by one as gifted as I, perhaps he carries some magic, but regardless he has great talent for stealth, his skills with weapons seems very limited but he is young and I am sure his abilities will grow. 

Jezzt, seems like the natural leader of the group, she seems very solid, capable and always concerned by the well being of her comrades, she wields a sword that is almost twice my height, she wields it skilfully and powerfully, she is certainly a worthy ally and comrade, if she survives 
long enough I am certain she will become a hero that has ballads sung about her. 

Zana, causes me the greatest concern and I ask all the spirits out there to keep an eye on her, she seems mentally unstable and prone to alcoholism and depression. I sense that she had a great fondness for a caransil called Loren, perhaps they were lovers! It is a great encouragement for me to see that these humans can have such strong feelings for an elf, if our races are to survive, humans and elves must become as close as siblings. Still I cannot help but worry about the warrior 
known as Zana, she carries great pain which I fear she will bury deep down where it will eventually grow into something darker. 

Spirits of Earth and Sky, Fire and Water, protect and guide my companions, grant them wisdom, patience and a release of their darkest hurts. 


My companions and I have been entrusted with the safety of a gnome called Jann, a cunning and intelligent person like so many of his kinfolk, But like so many I have met before, he surrounds himself with deceits and falsehoods, very rarely giving a straight answer, yet I do not begrudge him this because I understand that he gets joy and pleasure from playing his games. I also understand that often straight talking is not the best way. 

Spirits protect and guide this one called Jann and I pray to my ancestors that I must never have to “stop him from falling into enemy hands”. I would not wish to have to carry that burden. 


_Apari gives the spirits a brief account of his journey so far_ 

We were to take Jann southwards and help him procure some horses from a trader known as Zoidan, there were concerns for Jann’s safety so he had been given some bodyguards, our journey southward was largely uneventful, one night we fought a fell uruk whom my comrades and I felled after a short fight, we also went around a group of orcs, How I wish my magics were greater so I could have done more to them. eventually we arrived at this camp of orcman and are waiting a night before we move on. 


_Apari finishes his prayers and mediations and goes and rejoins his companions _


Rav


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 2, 2004)

One night about a month after Keeran parted from his friends to guide the Elves of Heren-Nín to the drum concealed in the forest, he is violently startled from sleep by a tearing sensation in his chest that yields to a feeling of hollowness and still, icy cold.  

The platinum bracelet on his wrist appears to be humming with some dark inner power;  and as he sits up in his place on the _talann_ still struggling to sort dreams of blood and night from waking truth, Keeran knows that his brother Tane has died this hour.


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 2, 2004)

A breath of wind seems to rustle the leave of the ancient Heorn tree around Keeran, and for an instant it is almost as if he can hear Tane whisper:  

"Don't despair. It will happen. You must help in making it happen."  

Then all is quiet again.  Far above, stars wheel icily.  


_[OOC note:  the words of the dying whisper were written by Tane's player.]_


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 9, 2004)

*Horse Trade Zorgetch-Style*



After spending the night safely in Bendo’s camp, the group heads south with the gnome trader Jan Wym and a silent escort consisting of Moon and half a dozen youthful orcmen from Bendo’s band, who are soon sent back with thanks by Jan.  

Both sides travel in growingly tense silence, what with the old gnome keeping the further stages of his journey to himself and the group quietly determined to carry out its orders to bodyguard and if necessary kill the gnome to prevent the enemy from taking him alive.  That night in camp, however, the mood subtly changes when Jan Wym’s telling of funeral rites on the River propels first Zana, then Jez into an account of their memories of their Elven friend Loren, recently killed by wolves of Erethor.  Tane, possibly feeling the shadow of things to come creep over his own soul, stays silent, while the Apari keeps watch on the edge of the camp.  
Loren’s wake ends with a long silence, broken at last by Jan’s question why he – the one to be guarded! – had been excluded from the briefing for his new bodyguard.  The group initially balks, then decides to tell him the truth.  Tane even hands the coded spy letter together with Loren’s explanatory scrawls over to Jan to read.  They admit that their orders include killing Jan if they cannot help him escape, but assure him that they will do all they can to prevent that happening, even if they have to sacrifice themselves in the process.  

Jan appears to be taking all this in his stride.  Although he is sceptical at first about the alleged treachery of Zoidan, he ends up trusting the group to do what is right.  He now explains that he is due to go to a place called ‘Patok’s’ in the hamlet Pechina, half a day’s walk north from the foothills, to meet Zoidan’s contact who will then let him know where the actual rendezvous for the horse trade will be.  

After some discussion, the group advises Jan to go ahead with the trade.  They escort the gnome north to Pechina the next day, spotting no one but a shepherd in the distance.  ‘Patok’s’ is one of five decrepit buildings:  a single-room hovel with two doorways hung with leather curtains, a couple of roughly-hewn tables and benches and a barrel of a sour beer-like drink in one corner.  Patok is almost too terrified by the appearance of the group and especially Jez that he almost drops a bowl of the vile brew he offers Jan.  Zana (with help from Jan, who has the right kind of patience for those beasties) brings in first one, then all of Jan’s mules and her horse.  The group is reassured by the fact that the animals seem unafraid of Patok.  

Everyone waits with Jan except Tane, who sneaks around the houses and finds two evidently unlived in, a third one filthy and empty.  An infant bawls in the last one, accompanied by frantic hushing sounds.  He withdraws, satisfied.  

Little later Zoidan’s contact, a Sarcosan by the name of Aren, arrives to explain the rendezvous point to Jan Wym.  There is brief confusion on all sides when Aren mistakes Jez for a legate, the ‘Yellow Mother’, and is baffled as to why she hasn’t arrested the gnome herself.  Jez, mystified for almost a second too long, replies that ‘it isn’t time yet’.  Aren leaves but after a brief, feverish discussion amongst the group is fetched back by Zana on the pretext that ‘the Mistress’ wants his report.  Once back in Patok’s hovel, Aren is subdued and questioned.  He appears to know nothing about orcs, but confirms that Zoidan and nine men are preparing to capture the gnome to turn him over ‘as agreed’.  He agrees to guide the group to Zoidan’s camp, roughly a dozen miles east of Pechina.  

More discussion ensues with the group considering, but in the end dismissing the option of retreat.  They send Jan Wym and his mules back into the foothills to wait with Bendo and arrange to meet him within a week’s time – if they do not return by then, he is to assume that they are dead.  

By dusk they come in sight of the copse behind which – according to Aren – Zoidan is camping.  They have seen two human riders gallop west towards Pechina maybe an hour before.  They demand that Aren guide them past any sentries.  When he explains that there are likely to be outriders moving around, they kill him and move on, Apari and Tane scouting ahead on foot and the two fighters riding up behind.  Soon they spot two human riders in the gloom, who pass them by without spotting them, and a little later surprise and kill two Sarcosan sentries at the rim of the copse.  

Guided by Apari, the group moves silently through the copse and comes upon Zoidan’s camp unobserved.  Apari and Tane sneak up and kill four of Zoidan’s riders in their sleep before one of the sentries can give a warning shout.  A brief bloody battle follows, in which all of Zoidan’s followers except one (who flees on a horse) are killed, one rises as Fell and is killed again, Zoidan kills Tane with a lucky arrow through the eye and gravely wounds Jez before Zana tells him to surrender, then he won’t be killed.  After a final flicker of defiance, Zoidan throws down his sword.


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 13, 2004)

_[Apari's account, by Apari's player: ]_


Apari finds a few minutes for himself and starts his prayers and reflections, he looks haggard and close to collapsing. 

spirits of the earth strengthen me 
spirits of the air guide me 
spirits of water sustain me 
spirits of fire inspire me 
spirits of my ancestors protect me. 

Tears well up as he thinks about the past few hours, all he can see are the same events being played over, again and again, 

Spirits forgive me... 
I am sure I could have done something different, something better, perhaps then Tane would still be with us. I close my eyes and all I see is that arrow flying straight towards him, it must have killed him instantly, he was probably dead before he hit the ground. 

The plan had been almost perfect, we had dispatched several of the riders with ease before they had alerted anyone, the enemy forces had been halved without injury to us, For the first time I had started to feel a connection with this group of humans I was with, Tane and I were orking well together, rarely had I met anyone who could move so stealthily and kill so efficiently. 

Then the fighting broke out, the spirits guided my hands and with a simple web spell I entrapped the two most powerful members of the enemy band (although I did not realise it at the time!). Their channeler was unable to cast spells and was dispatched quite easily as were most of the other members of the band. All except one, the leader Zoidan is one of the most powerful warriors I have come across, his skill with weapons was greater then any of my companions and he fired arrows with great speed and accuracy, he even managed to hold off both of our fighters and it 
looked for a few minters that my entire group would be slain. 

Ziodan kept on wounding Jez who seemed unable to penetrate his armour, I kept on healing her, then one of the spirits spoke into my heart, “move away now, your life is in danger!” I looked up into Zoidan’s eyes and realised he was about to change targets and attack me, I moved away quickly and the fight continued, Zana asked for Zoidan’s surrender which he agreed to. 

All I wanted to do was kill Zoidan where he stood, not only had he slain a comrade (one who was hopefully becoming a friend), but he was a traitor to his own people. It is in the nature of orcs to be evil and follow their god but for a human or elf it is an abomination! It took all my self control 
not to kill him! 

I am not sure what to do next, so I ask the spirits to guide me, Zoidan is dangerous and we may not get him safely back to Zana’s superiors. I am also concerned that some orcmen we know may try to free him as they will not believe that he is a traitor, Also Tane has a brother who may wish 
for vengeance. 

Spirits please guide me towards the path of peace and wisdom, as all I want is vengeance! Spirits of my ancestors guide Tane home and grant him eternal rest. 

Apari rises having received no answers and still being troubled, he goes back to his comrades.


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 16, 2004)

New PC:  *Pallas Elinor*, southern plains drifter and lone wolf, Erenlander Ftr3 


_[OOC note: Pallas's player decided to roll for stats and ended up with CHA4. He played his un-noticeable PC so successfully that I forgot about him twice during the session.   And here's: ] _



*Pallas's account, by Pallas's player*

My name is Pallas Elinor and people don’t see me. 

After a few weeks I knew I wasn’t going to last in Bendo’s band much longer. Bendo was a fat, old man who relied on one trick. His main interest wasn’t killing orcs but drinking, trading and a long way down, killing orcs. He had a good scam going, I’ll give him that. His great victories consisted of waiting until someone found an injured and panicked orc patrol. They came from the Forest of Erethor. He would make sure the orcs were outnumbered at least four to one, more if he could get away with it and then he ambushed them. The leaders who sent the patrols assumed they had been lost in the Forest. Bendo always made sure there were no orc survivors. This made him a great orcman band leader. It wouldn’t last. Nothing does. The old man was getting careless. He surrounded himself with kids. He said jump, they said how high. He told me to jump once. I looked at him. He got mad and threw up. It must have been a good night. Since then my days were numbered. So were theirs. The whole camp was walking dead. They just didn’t know it yet. One real orc sweep and this lot were dust. Moon knew. I had seen him look at the kids. He knew all right. 

I came back from a scouting trip to find a gnome in the camp. That wasn’t unusual. Bendo liked to trade. Gnomes brought him drink. Bendo would do a lot for people who brought him drink. The gnome didn’t see me. People rarely did. A few days later more people came. Three women, a man and three kids. Two of the women were armoured and armed. One of the kids also was. They were all riding. One of the men and one of the women looked like village people. The woman was carrying one of the kids and had the other by the hand. They were all riding and they had some spare horses. As they got closer, I saw they had someone tied up and draped over another horse. Also the armed kid wasn’t. I don’t know what he was. He had a good sword though. He looked very strange. They didn’t see me. 

That night, Bendo, the gnome, the prisoner and the strange one with the two women had a conversation. Bendo had a puzzled frown on his face. Nothing new there. One of the women was doing most of the talking, the other said very little and looked at the ground a lot. The strange one did some talking as did the gnome. Bendo still looked puzzled. 

Later that night Bendo came to see me. 

“I want you and Stel to escort these people out of the foothills to the Forest. You don’t come back. Ask them. If you are lucky they may let you go along with them. If they refuse, tough. Don’t come back.” 

I looked at him. He spat and walked away. I got up and gathered my gear. Moon was around. He was watching. He had his full gear on. He had seen me work with the vardatch. He shouldn’t have bothered. Bendo was a dead man. He just didn’t know it yet. 

Next morning we set out. The villagers decided to travel on with us as did the gnome. Stel and I knew our way around the hills by this stage and we took them to the edge without mishap. I learned a little by this point. Some names. Jezzt, and Thana, Jan the gnome. Apari though I still didn’t know what he was. The villagers didn’t say anything. Blackie the horse. Why anyone would name something that they may have to eat in the near future I don’t know but Thana was Sarcosan. Sarcosans were funny about horses. The prisoner was Zoidan. He had killed someone. He had fading bruises around his head and face. He worked for the Shadow. They didn’t see me. 

At the edge of the foothills, the gnome said his goodbyes. He was going South. The others did some trading with him. After they finished I made my move. I went to Zana. She did the talking. It took her a while to see me. It often did. I didn’t want to speak to her until she saw me. My voice startled people. Startled people were unpredictable. She was taking care of her horse. The she realised I was there. She looked startled. 

“Can you use another swordarm?” I asked. 

She looked at me. “My name is Zana Than, daughter of Lord Than. Have you heard of him?” she said by reply. 

“No”. The last time I had heard the word “lord” was when I was a kid. I used it. When orcs were hitting me I found if I called them lord they stopped. Sometimes. 

Then there was a shout. She turned around. 

“My elf is calling me. I must go.” 

So Apari was an elf. I had never seen one before. I didn’t realise they were so small. No wonder the orcs defeated them so easily. 

I went to the edge of the camp and looked into the darkness. I had another stick to play if needed but I had to decide whether I wanted to play it. I decided not to. I could always ask the gnome if he wanted a companion going South. I had never been South before. He talked a lot though. 

A little later they called me back. They had decided to take me. Jezzt asked me why I wore the face scarf. 

I looked at her. 

“Dust” I said. 

Entering the forest, I was told we were going to a place called Dargham’s Folly. So be it. One place was as good as another. I hadn’t been in the Forest of Erethor before. It was strange. It seemed alive. Trees and plants moved. There were constant sounds. Apari found paths where I didn’t believe there were any. I was used to plains. The forest was strange. I got used to it. The journey took days. Once during that time, Apari spoke to me. He asked me if I could channel. I had no idea what he was talking about so I said no. Then he asked me whether I could do magic. That was one of my secrets. I said no. My Light was my own. 

We arrived at Dargham’s Folly. It looked like a big village in the forest. A crowded village. The big difference was that people didn’t run into their houses as soon as the saw us. In fact they crowded the gate. They looked hungrily at the horses. I loosened my vardatch without anyone noticing. If anyone was going to eat my horse, it was going to be me. The group rode in. They were immediately called in by an old man in the doorway of a large building. I stayed outside with the horses. Some time later everyone came out except Zoidan. 

Then we were left to our own devices. Some loot was given out. To my surprise, I was given a set of good leather armour. It was good leather. I should know. Good enough to sleep in. 

The next few weeks went by. I learned a few things. The old man was called Bernt. Captain Bernt. He reminded me a little of Bendo. I wondered if he drank. He sent people out. Sometimes they came back, sometimes they didn’t. There was another elf in the camp. She was a bigger version of Apari. I ate well. Something called stonesoup. It was cooked up by this other elf. Sometimes I went out with some patrols. These met real orcs, not half dead ones. We didn’t seem to go out as much as others though. 

Then one day, we were called to Bernt’s building. He didn’t look at me. He was looking mainly at Zana and Jezzt. Jezzt had hacked off her hair. I don’t know why. Later I picked up that she looked like a Legate and that people were confused. She wanted to look different. 

Bernt told us a story about earthlight crystals. Magical things. We were to pick one up and drop it into a magical black mirror in a newly constructed Temple of Izrador quite close to here. As soon as the mirror was consecrated, a major explosion would occur, killing everything. Zana and the others thought it was doable. I didn’t know. We were to go to a place called Saddler’s Inn where we would meet another group of people who had the earthlight crystal. There was a phrase Zana had to use. So be it. 

We each took a horse for our own use and traded the others. We got goods for them. Zana took care of that. She now had a packhorse. 

We traveled fast and light with little incident. We avoided several patrols. If possible we were going to use Jezzt’s resemblance to this legate to get us through any difficulties. There weren’t any. We swam the river and rode to Saddler’s Inn. As we approached the village we heard a commotion. 

Zana turned to us and said: 

“If there are more than ten orcs, we don’t attack.” 

Then we rode forward. After a little time, we came to a square in the village. There was a ring of villagers. There were also several orcs, a cage on wheels and an important looking orc with some black breastplate similar to mine. One of the other orcs was holding a woman who was screaming. We rode forward as one and then, seeing only seven orcs, we charged. The villagers stood frozen for a moment and then scattered screaming. There was a thing inside the cage. A man with no hands. Jezzt and I rode forward and jumped off our horses. We attacked the orc commander. Zana went for one of the soldiers, using her horse as well as her sword. Apari rode forward and then a multi coloured light sprang from his hand. One of the other orc soldiers fell down. So, that’s what he meant by magic. Recovering from his surprise, the orc commander shouted something and then ran from us. His soldiers jumped on Apari. The rest of us moved and freed him, killing one in the process. I took a wound along the way. Apari jumped up and then managed to get away. Jezzt and I concentrated on the soldiers while Zana went after the orc commander. She caught him and cut him down. Apari dealt with another and Jezzt and I went after the one holding the woman. She was now slumped on the ground in front of him, bleeding. He didn’t last very long. I knelt next to the woman and looked at her. Maybe it was her time to Go. I had a hunch though. She may be one of the people we were supposed to meet. We needed her to find the earthlight crystal. Sometimes my Light could stop people from Going. I glanced around. Everyone seemed busy doing something so I put a little of my Light in her. It worked. I didn’t want anyone seeing me do this. My Light was my own. It was how I survived all these years. If the orcs had ever found out…. Everyone else who had known was dead. Artus, Mak, Little Annie, the list went on. 

The woman got up. Verity was her name. I remembered it now. She was hysterical. Luckily, Zana talked to her and calmed her down. She said a legate had caught her and her husband. He also had the earthlight crystal and was going some house. He had a halfling channeler with him. I knew now that channeler was another word for magician. We were going after them. So was she. She was supposed to have other companions but I assumed the orcs had dealt with them. The thing in the cage had been her husband. We took care of him. 

I looked around. At the orc corpses, the villagers. The villagers were dead; they just didn’t know it yet.


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## S'mon (Apr 20, 2004)

*Zana's Story: Part Three * 


_I am Earth 
You Are Sky 
Together We Are Strong _ 

A rhyme her mother had taught her, long, long ago. 

Zana Than kneeled next to her soot-coloured Sarcosan warhorse Blacky in the village's dusty central square, frowning with her accustomed expression of intent concentration as she cleaned the orcs' blood from her sword, Kursu that meant _Lightning_ in the old Sarcosan tongue. It was a task she had carried out now numerous times before. It always surprised her how easily the blade shed the last drop of greenish ichor, as if it revolted at the vile touch,or that it was itself somehow ever-oiled, protected against the contagion of the Shadow. It seemed that the old blade's metal had grown lighter over the past few months - had brightened, each time she killed. This battle she had killed three of the seven orcs they'd fought, including the leader who'd tried to flee, his cowardly nature belying his fearsome countenance. She fancied that Kursu was well pleased. Hadn't it once been dull, like lead, not so long ago? Now it gleamed like starsilver. Bright as the sky. Bright and quick as Jezzan's laughter... 

Zana glanced over at the tall blonde Dornswoman, conversing with the dark jungle elf Apari Ghostwalker over by the inn. Jezzan was now the only person on Aryth Zana accounted a friend. Jezzan's face was flushed, still angry with Zana Than as she talked to the wild elf who himself believed Zana mad. Pallas the orcman, their fourth companion stood nearby, keeping as always to himself. It was easy to forget he was there at all. He had bound the woman Verity's wounds though, hadn't he? Zana couldn't recall. 

Zana and Jez had just had their first real argument - over the villagers. What would become of them, with seven dead orcs to account for. Jez wanted to protect them. Zana had insisted that the Mission came first. The villager Pug would try to hide the orc bodies, hopefully. Probably that wouldn't work; the Shadow forces would exact their revenge by destroying the village, orcs slaughtering its inhabitants - and destroying the village's capacity to grow the crops that fed those same orcs. 

That was the weakness at the heart of the Shadow - in the end, it consumed itself. 

*Our weakness is different - we protect those who feed the Shadow. We sacrifice ourselves to aid those who destroy us. And we do it because it is right.* 

Zana was looking at Jezzan, lost in her thoughts, when Jez looked up at that moment, caught Zana's eye. Zana's brown complexion darkened slightly, embarrassed, as she turned quickly away. Swiftly, she finished cleaning Kursu, held the blade up to the sunlight. Silver - it shone like silver now, gleamed as it had once, when Lord Than Zana's-Father had wielded it all those years before. Where Zana was earth, Lord Than had been sky - bright as the sun, fast as a serpent, ready always to laugh, to slay, to raise his men's spirits with a ready quip or strike fear into the enemy in a blizzard of steel death, killing them in droves even before they knew he was upon them, remorseless vengeance, yet so full of life. He was very like Jezzan, in a way. Quicksilver. Quickened. 

Kursu, the lightning blade, had suited him as it had never suited Zana. Jezzan was Quickened too. Perhaps, Zana mused, it would suit Jezzan better still... But Jezzan had her own sword now. A heavy greatsword. Dull metal. Solid, of the earth. But very effective. Much like Zana herself. 

_I am Earth 
You Are Sky 
Together We Are Strong _ 

Zana raised the ancient blade over her head, looked up, smiled triumphantly as Kursu's steel blazed in the sunlight. There was Power there - power to win. Together. 

It was a good omen.


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 20, 2004)

EDIT:  Just realised I should have copied a between-sessions exchange between the PCs over, in which tactics for the upcoming battle were decided.  Here it is:  



_[By Pallas's player: ]_

Guys, I had an idea. I put it in this form because Pallas doesn't talk. 

I looked around the village. Orc corpses. Running, screaming villagers. A few stayed behind. Zana, Jezzt and Apari started talking to Verity. I didn’t hear what they said. I helped the villagers pile the orc corpses. One of them was older and looked grim. Zana said something to him. He turned to her: 

“Look, I know you are mighty warriors. You could kill me now if you wanted. But do you have any idea what you have done? These orcs will be missed. You have thrown magic around this place like smoke in the wind. We are going to have legates and orcs here within the hour”. 

Zana spat back. “So far as I am concerned you are all collaborators. You feed the orcs. You take care of their supplies. You should get ready to fight them. Fortify your village and defend it.” 

Jezzt joined in. “Zana, you are not serious. Look at these people. They wouldn’t stand a chance against the orcs. They would be killed immediately. What do you expect them to do?” 

I approached. They didn’t see me. Pug, the older villager, kept quiet but looked at Zana. I followed the continuing conversation. Zana thought everyone was a soldier. Jezzt thought everyone would live forever. Pug knew different but was too afraid to say. The bickering continued. The two women had very different views. It didn’t matter. These people were dead. 

No one had a solution. The talking then turned to Verity. She wanted to come with us. I handed her the orc breastplate. She said their party had been ambushed on the way to the village. That meant a traitor. The traitor was on his or her way to the legate now. There was some discussion as to how we should attack the mansion with the legate. There was no cover. There were sturdy doors. The mansion was owned by a single solitary woman. In this country, that was bad. Legates stayed there. She was Shadowfriend. More talk. Night attack; dusk attack; dawn attack. Abandon the mission and save the villagers. Nothing was decided. Zana insisted on carrying out the mission. 

I got up on my horse. I approached the talking group and looked at them. It took them a while but in the end they looked at me. I spoke. I didn’t like doing it. Sometimes my throat hurt. 

“We should ride now. To the mansion. As fast as possible. Before the traitor gets there. We should ride with no cover and openly. With Jezzt at the front wearing her black breastplate and visible to everyone. As befits a Legate of her standing. No one will pay her escort any attention if they hide their features a little. Apari can be her elven channeler slave. If this is going to work, we need to go now.”



_[By S'mon, Zana's player, and randomling, Jez's player: ]_

Zana frowns. 

"If we approach openly the enemy will be alerted. Even if they think we're a Legate and her followers, still they will be ready for us. But still, it would at least get us in close, if it works." 

Zana looks to Jez & Apari to see what they think of Pallas' plan.


From her position crouching near Apari, Jez meets Zana's eye, then looks away and shrugs. "So, we walk up openly. I pretend to be Rimhelde. They get close enough to see I'm not her - what then? They swarm us, right? Two spellcasters, a dozen orcs. Half a minute later, we're all dead." 

Jez looks straight at Zana for a second, unsmiling, almost expressionless. A moment later she sinks back on her heels, tracing a pattern in the dust with one finger.


Zana nods. 

"I expect you're right." 

She turns to Pallas. 

"I agree with Jezzan - with a Legate it's too risky - he'd likely see through us straight off. We'll proceed with a night attack."



---Original post: 

_[Intro to players for upcoming session. PCs are planning to take out a Legate plus Halfling Channeler plus a dozen or so Orcs at the nearby mansion, to retrieve the Earthlight taken from Verity and Martherin when they were captured a day ago.  Edit:  As discussed above, it's going to be a frontal assault.]_

Ok guys. About half an hour has passed since the fight at Saddler's Inn.  You have about two hours of daylight left. The mansion is five miles east of Saddler's Inn, the settlement where you killed the orcs and rescued Verity.  

According to Verity, the terrain between Saddler's Inn and the mansion is open fields. The mansion is on a shallow hilltop with two main approaches:  

A road lined with cypresses leads up to the main entrance from the south, providing sketchy bits of concealment against watchers from the mansion.  The last half mile is open ground, with only rotting stumps remaining of the old double tree line.   

Paths winding through fields and through the western edge of the burnt-down sword-grass area lead up to the vegetable patch and back door in the north.  Depending on how far the harvest has got along in the past few days, there might still be concealment (about three feet high only) available, up to about 300yds away from the mansion.  The hill itself is covered in short grass.


You want to be ready to act as the session starts.  Or else others might do the acting for you ...


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 24, 2004)

_[Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: ]_

Neither Jana or Jezzt saw my thought. No matter. It wouldn’t be the last time. They preferred their tactics. Charge and hope. Break the doors down. Kill everything. 

We hurried out of the village on horseback. The mansion was a few miles away, on a hilltop. Little cover around. A road lined with trees led up to it. As we hurried cross-country, we found some villagers. They were on their way to the mansion to report what had happened. They were told to go back. I was puzzled. A brief time before Zana had called the whole village collaborators and condemned them all to death. Now she was letting two confirmed traitors go. I didn’t understand. 

We approached. Then we waited until darkness fell. Apari moved forward, unseen. A little time later he came back. There were seven orcs outside the front door and a light coming from the front of the first floor. A quick discussion and Apari left again. He would stalk unseen through the battlefield and help us. He guaranteed the orcs wouldn’t see him. A little time later with started to pick up speed. Then it became a full canter. We fell upon the orcs quickly. Jezzt fought like she was possessed. She moved in a blur. I had never seen anyone move so fast. Everytime she struck an orc it fell. Zana and her horse also stomped into the orcs. My horse shied but I hit the enemy. A few moments later there were several orc corpses and two running orcs. Zana and Jezzt approached the door. They both gave it terrible blows and it splintered. Rapidly they both moved in. I was still finishing the last orc but I caught a glimpse of Jezzt’s face. It was dead. She was living in the world of the dead. Then the whole front room of the building was filled with a grey sticky mass. Strands everywhere. Magic! They enveloped Jezzt. She was stuck fast. I couldn’t see Jana. She had moved on ahead. Jezzt struggled with all her strength. She couldn’t move. 

Then six more orcs came around the corner. Reinforcements. Apari hadn’t scouted the whole building. The came out in a disciplined formation and threw their javelins. They were woeful. One scratched me. Jana and Jezzt were both helpless. I readied myself for the fight. I had a couple of tricks. I broke a charm, my only one. Drawing their vardatches, they charged me. I fenced with them. They got in each other’s way. I used old tricks. Shield fencing. Positioning the horse. It was working. They couldn’t hit me but I was hitting them. Verity was helping me. She had been hurt at the beginning but now she looked healthy. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zana reach us. Her clothes were blackened as if she had been burnt. She dealt an orc a fearful blow. Then I saw Jezzt tear herself out of the grey sticky mass and stumble out of the room. Then it disappeared. There was a flash of light, which left both Zana and Jezzt reeling, unable to react. A large plains cat jumped on Jezzt and it was followed two orcs. Unable to defend herself, she took dreadful blows and then fell down. She was dead. The cat moved forward and pawed the air just behind corpse. Its blow met resistance and there was an angry cry. 

I was still fighting orcs. Then, from above, a slimy, oily voice directed an incantation at me. I ignored it. It couldn’t see me. Another orc fell. The cat chased down the road, trying to find something. Zana fought the orcs. Another incantation came down from the mansion. This one saw me. I couldn’t move. Then the very grass under my horses hooves wrapped itself around its legs. 

“Surrender!” cried the slimy voice. 

Zana looked around. I could see what she could. Both Verity and I and our horses were motionless. Two orcs were holding vardatches to Jezzt’s body, ready to plunge. The big cat was chasing something only it could see. She threw down her sword. 

Then, a moment later both the horse and I were free of our enchantments. I rode hard. Out of there. Away from the mansion. I made sure there was no pursuit. Then I turned South. The hills were my best chance. Then, I heard another horse behind me. It was Apari. We looked at each other. 

I said: “To the hills”. 

We both set off at a gallop. Zana and Jezzt were dead. Bernt would be happy. Two less mouths to feed.


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 27, 2004)

Here's a vision Zana received just as the PCs were spurring their horses up to attack the mansion.  

'From a scarcely moonlit night, you are suddenly bathed in dazzling sunlight, which leaps off the whitewashed walls of the house towards which you are riding.  Gulls circle overhead and the sea thunders somewhere beyond.  Brilliantly white dust rises from your horses' hooves, dust of a colour you, Zana, have never seen, but here, now, it is familiar, it means home.   

As you approach, men crouched along the wall start scrambling to their feet picking up lumps and rolls of baggage.  You know they are a dirty rabble - murderers, thieves, rapists, the lot.  You also know they are the best you are going to get to embark to go and conquer those faraway shores.  

In a blinding flash of sunlight, the scene dissolves, and you are back on the dirt road riding to the charge with Jez and your companions, fallen a couple of horse lenghts behind probably as you pulled up in surprise rather than because the vision itself had taken any time.'


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## randomling (Apr 27, 2004)

*Jez's Story*

Finally, we're riding south in pursuit of the Earthlight. Glancing at Zana, our horses in step as we canter away from the village, I feel hopeful, strong, crackling with energy. The air's cleared since our argument, and the space between us feels like the sky after a thunderstorm - fresh and clean, alive with the smell of ozone. 

The terrain is as Verity told us. We reach the edge of the trees as the sky starts to darken above us. Apari switches weapons with me, my ordinary bow for his enchanted one. It's a decision that's to save his life. 

We stop, in range of the mansion and out of the orcs' sight. The four warriors - myself, Zana, Pallas, Verity - stay mounted. Apari ties his horse to a tree stump and disappears from view with a spell. He takes in the distance from our stopping-point to the building, then his voice addresses Zana: "Count to thirty, and then charge." 

Zana nods. 

I tense, bunching the reins in my hands as I listen to Zana count under her breath. 

Twenty-five - we draw weapons. 

Thirty - we spur our horses on. 

And we're galloping forward. My short hair sweeps back behind my head. Suddenly I feel Zana's presence go from my side, and, disconcerted, I glance behind. Just a few paces back, she grins at me and salutes. Kursu is gleaming in the last glimmers of sunlight. Soon her horse is beside mine again, keeping pace, right where it should be. 

Then we're upon them, and they're upon us. Orcs. 

The customary panic of battle washes over me as I deal the first blow. It's my dirty secret, the one thing I'll never share with Zana: I fear death. But this time the panic sinks away as suddenly as it took me over, and there is nothing left in the world but me and my enemy. I strike truer and harder and faster than I have in my life, and in seconds the ground around us is littered with orc bodies. Zana looks at me approvingly as we both dismount and make for the mansion's front door. 

Together, Kursu and Tunner take the door down. I step inside; Zana makes for the stairs. As she sets foot on the bottom step, the room fills with sticky strands that bind us both tightly to the spot. 

Web. I've seen Apari do this. 

I struggle, and Zana burns her way out. Outside, there are sounds of further battle - the rest of the orcs - and more orcs appear at the other end of the room. As Zana and I escape, we're hit with another of Apari's favourite spells, the patterns stopping us momentarily in our tracks. 

Orcs - a plains cat, no doubt the demon of the legate in charge - the legate - the channeller. It's too much. Apari stitches my wounds with a spell, but it draws the magehunter's attention and it goes for him. I can't see him, or what it does to him, but I hear him whisper, "Sorry," and disappear. 

It's down to two of us, Zana and me, back to back. I look at her, and down at my gaping wounds as the fear comes flooding back. I bite it down and force a grin in Zana's direction, knowing I can't swing again and stay standing. It's over, I think - fight together, die together. 

"See you in the next life, girl," I say to Zana. 

Seemingly almost independent of me, Tunner slashes forward, but pain grips me like a vice and I strike at pure air. My last sight is Zana's eyes, bright and dark, shot through with defiance and fear. 

My last thought is that I never told her I was sorry.


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## StalkingBlue (Apr 29, 2004)

We're not playing tonight, so no Story Hour in the works ... 
Instead, here's some bits of background info I e-mailed to S'mon for his PC Zana.  



Hm, let me see.  You know a few names already: Bendo, Zoidan (currently out of commission but who cares).  The people at Cpt. Bernt's camp. There's Pug in Saddler's Inn; and Naith (guy escorting Kiriel) mentioned a man in Hamra named Gabe.  Jan Wym the Trader of course. 


There's no one 'resistance movement' among humans, just numbers of splinter groups, truncated structures,  individuals.  Things are in flux all the time because people get caught, betrayed, killed or simply give up and sit down to die, while others take the step of no return and become outlaws themselves, or might lend a helping hand when (they hope) no one's watching.  

Felthera Valley: 
The immediate area you are currently in (western Felthera Valley up to Black Weir) is too heavily occupied and patrolled by orcs to support larger outlaw bands.  It's terrain for mobile, small-size groups such as yours or Verity and Martherin's at best - and not even that after things have been stirred up a bit, which will likely draw massive pursuit and retaliation from camps and forts in the area; with the only question being how fast.  You weren't even aware of any other groups operating in the area, until Cpt. Bernt put you into contact with Verity. 

Regions around Felthera Valley, river and then counter-clockwise: 

Felthera River:  
Many gnomes trading up and down Felthera will smuggle outlawed merchandise or resistance fighters. There are signals by which they identify themselves to people seeking aid, but you don't know what they are. 

South: 
Here resistance has crumbled and been pushed back further south lately, what with your father's band wiped out and a line of new fortresses built/under construction.  You know of one large mounted Sarcosan band that operates or used to operate way further south on the western plains around Cambrial, led by one Inren last you heard. Inren had considerably more men than Lord Than, yet they are all middle-aged or aging and your father didn't think much of them, too encrusted in their own suffering and martyrdom in his opinion.  
There used to be an Erenlander caravan merchant / swordfighter / smuggler, Tissa Sharpe, who travelled through your father's territory once or twice a year, with a number of secretly armed guards.  She hasn't been yeen in at least a year and a half, probably due to losing contacts and safe routes up north to the expanding Shadow forces. 

East: 
There appear to be two unrelated or competing layers/circles of halfway organised resistance in Hamra, at least one of which - rumour has it - has suffered some drastic setbacks earlier this year (through infighting?), but the Greater Legate Jahzael Al'Maeera at Eisin (Eisin = next town further east, Al'Maeera = an ancient Sarcosan noble name) has not been able to wipe them out yet.  
There's some secret about how to get into and out of Hamra, apparently without using the gates (?!). You don't know any names for Hamra except Gabe's, who may or may not be part of local resistance circles.    

North: 
There's strong resistance in Baden's Bluff, large city on the coast of the Sea of Pelluria - apparently members of House Baden still survive and instigate acts of terror and sabotage in the city.  

West:  
There's a string of human camps just inside Erethor, similar to Dargham's Folly. You haven't been in any of the others, they tend to be hidden well away from the through-going paths, and sentries will escort you through their territory and put you in contact with the outlying sentries of the next camp along.  As a rule strangers will be allowed into Bernt's camp only as an exception, and then only disarmed and often bound and blindfolded. 

As far as you know there's no overall command structure, camps operate on their own with combatants free to offer their services somewhere else if they've fallen out with their current crowd, they are caught by wanderlust (orcmen bands especially) or things grow too 'hot' - which is one of the more pressing problems of Bernt's currently.   Since the fighting along the river has picked up, the area has grown a lot more dangerous and even less well able to feed the camp population because all the forest south of camp is off-limits for hunting or foraging (because of marauding oruk/orcs).  

On a side note, there are ways in which Erethor protects itself - eg through flesh-eating plants and animals, which you haven't encountered but Jez and Loren have.  There's also something called the Whisper, which you don't know much about.  It's an elf thing and related to elves hating people cutting trees down to build better defences.   

Also on a side note, presumably the Elves are still more centralised and organised in their own defence than the shattered human societies (being sorta grouped around the Witch Queen), but you don't know any details.


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## StalkingBlue (May 9, 2004)

_[Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: ]_

Apari woke me up. It was still night. Little time had passed. He showed me his arm. A thin black chain was wrapped around it. It was tightening of its own volition. I looked at him. I didn’t know what he wanted. It was his chain. Carefully he unwound and dropped it. I hit it with my vardatch. Then I stopped. The chain was harder. Apari looked at it again. He picked it up and wound it around his arm. It tightened again. He said he felt better. He put his sleeve over it. It disappeared from my sight. Then he said he felt fine. I looked at him. This was strange. I had never seen or heard of anything like that. But he was an elf. Elves were strange. Maybe it was something elvish. 

I was settling back to sleep when he shook me again. We should go back to the mansion. He said he felt well now, capable of doing his magic. I didn’t know how he had done that. Didn’t want to know. Zana and Jez were dead and the legate still had the earthlight crystal. Many of his guard were dead. He and his channeler had cast some magic already. They would be weakened. We would never get a better opportunity. 

We gathered the horses. As we did so, Apari pointed. In the distance, silhouetted against the moonlight, figures were coming this way. They knew we were here. They must have trackers. Stealth was pointless. We mounted and rode fast. Towards the mansion. Apari was bursting with confidence. Unseen, he would sneak into the mansion and look. Then he would get me and together we would assault the remaining enemy. 

We stopped a few hundred yards away from the building. He left. I waited. A little later he came back. He told me he had left a back door open. This led into a large room full of horses. The horses were restless and would help in masking any sound I made. He didn’t make any. We approached. It was as he said. Closer to the house, he became unseen. I entered the house and stayed out of sight next to a set of stairs going up. I waited for him to call. I had a little time to look around. A bare room. It smelt of horses. There were four of them, one a little bigger than the others. The orcs were no stable hands. Looking a little closer I saw a sword on the bigger horse. It was Zana’s. I moved over there and took it. Then I moved back. Still no call. 

Suddenly, a mass of grey sticky strands erupted from the stairs. Apari had told me about the web magic. I thought it was the halfling channeler but I heard no call. I moved up the stairs. A little inside the webbed area I saw the large plains cat. It was struggling inside the webs. I drew my bow. Then a nightmare. A horrific translucent creature emerged from the cat. It was indescribable. As if made from many parts of animals and other creatures. It opened its mouth and screamed. I lost control of my body. I ran. As fast as I could. Out of the mansion, into the fields. Then I heard hooves behind me. They were getting closer. Still I ran. The big horse ran by me, kicking out as it did. It was mad. Its teeth were bared. It was lathered and its eyes were rolling. I regained control. Something may have been inside that horse it still fought like an animal. A little later it was dead. It did manage to kick me a couple of times. Mostly it left bloody marks on my shield and sword as it hurled itself against me. 

I ran back to the mansion. I found the web was gone. I heard Apari’s voice. I moved towards it. Up the stairs, following a hallway, then left. Then I entered a lit room. I was surprised. Zana was alive. So was Verity. The oily voiced legate and the fat, spell-casting halfling were sprawled in the wreckage of a room full of books. The legate’s stomach had been ripped out. Jez was also lying on the floor near the doorway, dead. I didn’t say anything. It was better not to at these times. I had seen it before. People losing friends. I just gave Zana her sword. She thanked me. Then she grieved. Apari moved around silently. He had been around the house. Whispering, he asked me what happened to the mage hunter. I presumed he meant the translucent thing. I told him I killed it. Later I needed to ask him what that was. I would tell him what had happened. Apari moved around, searching the legate. He found the crystal. Then we stood silently. A little later, Apari whispered to Zana. She shook herself, wordlessly moved aside and turned her back. Apari took a sword and decapitated Jez. He moved out of the room. Then I picked her up and took her downstairs. Apari was already there. He had another halfling with him. He looked terrified. Mounting the horses, we left the building. Then we dug a grave. 

I thought. We had the make several decisions. I still wanted to destroy the temple. Apari had an amazing ability to sneak around unseen, which was the core of the idea for the temple. The halfling Apari had found had been to the location of the temple. If we were lucky he might even have been inside the building. I didn’t know how strong Apari felt about his magic. I didn’t know how strong Zana was after her ordeal. We had a company of orcs behind us with trackers. Soon this place would be roiling with Shadow. So the question was: Rest or go to the Temple now? 

I also thought about Jez. I didn’t know how she died. Zana hadn’t spoken since we left the mansion. Maybe she would tell me, maybe she wouldn’t. I hadn’t known Jez well. She had a good swordarm and she was amazingly fast. She cared about people. There was a time I did as well. Then they all died. Her face would join the many I often saw at night.


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## randomling (May 9, 2004)

I'm shaking as I bathe. Terrified. Hot water, soap, strange scents - I can't get my mind off the act I'm putting on, how I can't see any way to carry it off. Zana could do it. Zana's brave and tough. Vorne is going to see through me in a second. And kill me the second after. 

They've put the awful cat-thing inside with me. I can't help thinking it's watching me, and I shiver more despite the warm water, taking as long as I can to wash, avoiding my wounds with the soap, biting my lip against the painful movements. The water darkens with my blood. 

When I get out, I see they've laid fresh clothes for me on the floor. Black of course, too big, shaped for a man, the fabric light and slippery. I pull on my armour and slip the clothes over them. Even armoured, I feel vulnerable, unprotected. Alone. Where is Zana, I wonder? What happened to Pallas? Is Apari alive? 

So many questions. 

Dressed, I affect what I think is a Legate's stance - back straight, head up, face set despite my aching wounds - and march into the bedroom where the redheaded woman is waiting. She rubs some oil on my face, and I feel myself squirm inside even as it heals me. Shadow magic. I quiz her, feeling brutal. Then I walk to the library and, with a deep breath, head inside. 

Vorne is waiting. Suddenly I'm cold. 

There are books everywhere. I think of Tane and Loren, both scholars, reading men who would have loved the chance to get at some of the knowledge inside them. Both dead now, among the host of people I imagine watching over me. I'm nothing but an illiterate peasant girl, no match for a Legate. I'm craving Zana. I wish she could tell me what to do. 

I sit down, and Vorne comes to sit near me. He's like oil, greasy and cool, and as we talk I want to do nothing but wash him off me. There's strong drink in crystal glasses and a strange toast. I feel like a traitor making it, but I stay strong. Think tough. Think of Zana, I keep saying to myself. I think of Bendo, too, of his band and their rough honest ways: food and drink, a floor to sleep on, straight talk, and all around me men and women prepared to die for the same reasons as me. 

Well, here's the test, Jezzan Hest. Are you really prepared to die for the things you said you'd die for? 

He sees through me. Of course he does. I look into his smug face, feel the room full of his oily presence and the dark of the Shadow, and I promise he'll never break me. Not now, not ever. He stands behind me, fingers digging into my shoulders. I concentrate on the pain in my side, and the wounds become my strength. I think of anything but him, drawing my mind away from his oily voice, from the quaking inside me. 

Then I hear it. 

Footfalls. 

Orc shout. 

Sword strike. 

Zana. 

My heart almost splits for joy. I want to leap up, yell her name, punch the air; but I'm a fortress, a stone tower; impenetrable and ice cold. Vorne grips me tighter. An orc comes to put his vardatch at my throat; the cat goes; orders are shouted; my heart thumps in my hears. I'm listening for Zana. I want to hear her voice, her walk, Kursu's blade singing. 

She's on my mind. I think back three nights, to sitting up on watch, mind racing as it always seems to late at night. Zana was sleeping by my side. She seemed so much part of the earth. As I watched her, I thought how strong we were together - where she is earth, solid and tough, I am the sky, faster and lighter than Zana. Now, I think, I have to be earth, and let Zana be sky for once. I'm gazing at the horizon now, watching for the first light of dawn after a long, cold night. 

"You have one chance to get out of here alive - your guards are dead - let her go and we will let you go." 

My Zana. My sister. 

She's got them on the run - Vorne's nervous again, uncertain, and my heart skips in my chest. Apari's there too, his voice shouting Zana's name in jubilation, but I'm a wall. Zana talks. Vorne responds. I'm not listening to their words, I'm too dazed and happy to do anything but bask in the sound of Zana's voice. I'm walked to the door with the orc, vardatch still at my throat, and though I can't see her I can sense where she is - behind the door, out of spell range, smart girl. Close enough, almost, to reach out and grab. 

Apari appears from behind the door, and I see it in his eyes - there's a plan. He looks at me questioningly. I nod my head. He starts to cast a spell, and the orc's grip tightens on me. 

I can't see Zana, and in the moment before he slits my throat I know I never will. So I picture her, her dark eyes shining with humour, her cocky grin, Kursu gleaming in the sunlight. She'll carry on beyond me. She'll be there to remember me. 

It's a comfort. I hold onto that.


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## StalkingBlue (May 10, 2004)

_[Here's the letter Pallas found in the saddlebags of Vorne's dead horse: ]_

[Painstakingly scratched into the carefully folded and sealed parchment in Erenlander] 


To Benjen Ottie, Prelate 


By the Grace of Izrador, Lord of Eredane, Shadow over All, Devourer of Life, Bringer of Fire, etc. and so on 
Under the Authority of His Most Majestic Holiness Sunulael, Priest of Shadow 
Jahzel Al’Maeera, Greater Legate, Eisin 

We Hereby Do Appoint Entrust and Command The Carrier of This Present 

	Temple Legate Fifth Rank Vorne Everett 

With and To the Post of Treasurer at the Temple of Serpent’s Rock 
To Be Accredited Confirmed and Initiated At Your Earliest 


Given and Sealed This 12th Night 9th Month 99th Year of the True God’s Reign 


[Arrogant scrawl in a different  hand: ]    	
					Jahz


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## StalkingBlue (May 10, 2004)

_[Game intro for returning PC Keeran and new PC Katrin: ]_

Keeran - You return to Dargham's Folly after months of absence to find some familiar faces, many new and desperate ones, and Captain Bernt as usual in a great hurry to talk to you. 

Katrin - You're newly arrived in Dargham's Folly and have offered your services to Captain Bernt, who up north has a reputation as a competent fighting man, but seems harrassed and stressed as you meet him. He seems to have forgotten you immediately after your introduction, which was brief and interlaced with barked curses and orders from Bernt to fatigued-looking people appearing and disappearing in his doorway. You haven't seen any group worth latching onto during the three days you've been in camp and out on various patrols, and might be considering considering leaving to drift further south and see whether you can find a more promising spot (surely there must be _someone_ in this forest who'll appreciate your superb fighting skills?), when on the fourth morning you're summoned to Bernt's command hut by a half-grown, hollow-cheeked girl sloshing around in her far-too-big suit of scale mail. 

As you two step inside, Bernt glances up from his map, looks again as if lost as to why you're here and runs a hand across his eyes. (Keeran - he looks more tired than you've ever seen him, almost hollow. Although that may just be the effect of your having spent months among the always smooth-looking Elves.) 

"Keeran - condolences on your loss," Bernt says, averts his eyes and hurries on. "Two days ago," he says, "I sent Zana and Jez and two others out into the plains, to ally with a friendly group and set up a surprise greeting for the Legates at a new temple site: here." He stubs a square finger against some hill-shaped squiggles on his old, mouse-nibbled leather map. "Unfortunately, our intelligence appears to have been - incomplete. There are indications that the area is much less safe than expected, indeed that the group I put them in contact with may have been betrayed. They're using the northern route, contact is the cobbler Pug at Saddler's Inn. I need you two to go after our team immediately. You both have horses? Good. Catch up with them, warn them to caution, reinforce them. Obviously, your further course of action will be decided on the spot when you see what the local situation is. Questions?" 

Already as he speaks those last words he's turning to a hovering pair to archers who look ripe for a bath, some bandages and a long rest, but are evidently getting ready to out again after some newly detected band of orcs in the vicinity of the camp. 



(Both - if you like, work out whether you'd like to have met before, or want this to be your first meeting. You'll have a few days of off-camera travel together to come to know each other before the session begins.) 

(Keeran - you'll need a horse for this. You can have traded one of your two bows for a light warhorse and military saddle and saddlebags in Heren-Nín. You might also have noticed that the Elves find bartering strange and use a rather abstract and complicated conversion method, by which barter goods are converted into round printed metal pieces and then back to the goods you meant to trade for. Sometimes metal is left over one one side of the bargain - if you like, you can have kept 10gp.)


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## randomling (May 19, 2004)

_Author's note: Meet my new PC, Katrin Baden._

*Katrin's Story * 

It was late at night now, and I was tired, but Keeran insisted he’d found their tracks, so the two of us rode on. Keeran was an archer, usually quiet and surly; aside from essential talk about food and direction, he said little except to make occasional mention of his dead brother and the old friends of his we were meeting. When he’d seen the horse tracks headed away from the road, Keeran had turned east to follow them. I gazed at the dwindling moon: by now it had to be past midnight. 

After a while we reached the crest of a hill, over which the horses had disappeared. We followed. By the time the camp was in sight, we had already been seen, and five figures stood at the bottom of the hill, weapons drawn. I peered down the hill, unable to make out details of faces. 

“Hail, Zana,” Keeran cried. 

“Keeran?” Lowering her sword, a middle-sized Sarcosan woman stepped forward. “Is that you?” 

Keeran and I rode forward and dismounted. Keeran spoke briefly to Zana, who after a few moments made the introductions: Apari, a quiet Danisil elf who had a sad, shocked look; Pallas, a tall sullen man with a vardatch; Verity, frightened-looking; an unnamed halfling who shied away from the others. Zana herself stood defiantly with her sword still in her hand and a wild look in her eyes like a dying animal. This, then, was the group’s leader. But the elf said softly, “We’re Jez’s band.” 

Zana shot a look at the elf. I gazed at her, at the semi-familiar lines of her face, her dark skin and eyes, thinking. “Do I know you?” 

“No,” said Zana blankly. She was still looking at Apari. I turned away to join the discussion that Pallas was having with Verity about safer places to camp, and soon the six of us were riding towards the New Road in search of some place that Verity knew. It turned out to be on the New Road itself, magically buried inside it: I remember staring as Verity called “Follow me!” and disappeared. All of us followed. 

Inside, it was white stone, and apparently inaccessible from the outside. Still we set watches. I slept soundly, as always, but as I kept watch, myself observing my new companions. None of them were sleeping well. From what I’d heard, that was to be expected. One had died. The survivors seemed devastated. 

Morning came around, none too soon for me, but long before any of the others wanted it to. Within a few hours of waking, the mission had been explained and planned, the halfling named and then interrogated. It was Pallas, in his quiet voice, who explained that their friend Jez had given her life so that they could get the Earthlight, the gem that Zana held in her hand. Now their job was to destroy the new temple with it. The decision was that Keeran and Apari – both scouts – would go, and the rest of us stay behind. After nightfall, they left, and we were left in our hiding-place: Pallas, Verity, Loren the halfling, Zana, and me. 

Some time after they left, Zana asked why I’d thought I knew her. In response, I looked into her face. “What’s your last name?” 

“Than,” she said. 

I blinked at her, surprised. “Are you related to Lord Than?” 

“My father.” 

I looked at her for a long time, comparing her to my old lover, the man I’d travelled so far to find. How was it that I’d stumbled across his daughter? Her manner was different from his; she had no Sarcosan accent; I remembered Than telling me about his child, the earthy Erenlander girl who’d turned up at his camp one night, demanding to be taken on. He’d sounded so proud of her – much prouder than my father had ever been of me. 

“How is the old dog?” I said, faking a smile to hide my beating heart. “I haven’t seen him in a long time.” 

“He’s dead,” said Zana without a pause. She leaned forward to stoke the fire while I sat there near to choking, trying to pull myself together enough to talk. 

We discussed him for a while. Four years, he’d been dead four years. Less than a year after our three weeks together, he was dead, and I hadn’t heard about it despite all my searching. Zana quizzed me about how I’d known him, I explained all I could without telling her the one thing I couldn’t imagine her reacting well to. 

“Did you see him fight?” she asked. 

“Once,” I said, and couldn’t suppress a smile at the memory. “Wow.” 

“He was so quick,” said Zana. 

I looked at my hands, remembering him: “He was certainly quick.” 

Zana raised her eyebrows and looked away. 

We were silent for a long time, barely looking at each other, unable to tell if the others were awake or asleep. It was Zana who finally took up the thread of conversation again, and we spoke in low voices about leadership and tragedy, about the elf, who Zana thought should lead them instead of her. I looked at Zana and saw her father, a man born to leadership as he was to swordsmanship, and I wondered if Zana was the same as him. Even defeated as she was, I thought I could see it. She couldn’t step down, mustn’t. The band needed her. 

Once again we lapsed into silence, and hours later, Keeran and Apari came stumbling back with the Earthlight and collapsed asleep. They hadn’t succeeded. I could see the disappointment on Zana’s face, the weight of what seemed like another bad decision. We set watches again. The next night, Apari said, he would try again. Alone. 

In the morning, a troupe of orcs, legates and human slaves tramped past our hiding-place on the New Road. Apari said he would go anyway, but, oppressed by the Shadow emanating from the Temple, came back, fast. Soon after he returned, the orcs and legates came tramping back, but the humans were gone. The Temple had been consecrated. 

Now we had a new decision. Everybody wanted to complete the mission, but it would be a sacrifice now. To destroy the Mirror, somebody had to die. 

I saw Zana look at Apari, the only one capable of getting there, willing him to take the decision out of her hands. The elf spoke eloquently of Jez, the girl they’d lost, how he felt responsible for her death, how he was prepared to do this, for her. I listened to him, biting back the words I wanted to scream to Zana. This is who you’d have as a leader? An elf so wracked with guilt he’s suicidal? Are you so mad with grief you think his decisions will be any better than yours? 

After nightfall, Apari said his goodbyes and left. I watched Zana disappear into herself as the elf disappeared into memory, watching the horizon like a hawk. Nobody said a word; an hour dragged past; the moon was a sliver in the sky. Then we saw it: black lightning. 

I looked at the other faces in camp. Keeran was near-expressionless; Pallas, too. Verity was grinning, but had tears in her eyes. The halfling looked forlorn. Zana’s eyes flashed, but her expression was unreadable: for her, this was equal parts triumph and defeat. I smiled a little, but I felt the loss too. He’d been a friend for two days, but he’d given his life for victory. 

We all laid our bodies down, but nobody slept. 

Some time afterwards, a small dark-clothed figure staggered into our hiding-place, his face and hair singed. Zana sat bolt upright as the rest of us rolled over and sat up sleepily, confused but not yet alarmed. 

“I’ve avenged Jez,” said Apari’s voice. Then the small figure collapsed where he stood, and in moments, he was fast asleep.


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## randomling (May 19, 2004)

StalkingBlue - any chance of editing the first post to reflect the current cast list? It still lists only Zana, Loren and Jarod!


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## StalkingBlue (May 23, 2004)

*Cleansing Fires*

It is late summer of the year 318 S.A. After the disastrous Battle of Pelthurin, at which all five Sarcosan generals were assassinated by Elven magic, the Sarcosans have had no choice but to make peace with the Elves.  Finally, the war against the long-eared forest fey is over.  The minor Sarcosan prince Daghu of A'Hamra is on his way into Erethor to wed the Elven maiden Inúriel, escorted by five members of his court...  

_Handouts to players:  _

*Katrin Baden – Sister-Princess to Daghu – raised with him as noble child hostage *

Always the war against the Elves has been your bond.  You and him, Dorns and Sarcosans – together.  Now … 

If only you didn’t love him so.  Surely he still loves you back?  Surely that was not just a brotherly kiss when he nuzzled your ear in passing?  Surely, if you just watch and wait and ready to interfere, you can still come between your brother-lover and this cold painted thing and man-thief?  

Of your companions, you believe Keeran most likely might feel similar to you.  Ever loyal, you have seen him cringe and hide his face whenever Daghu mentions his Elf-love.  Zana and Pallas preserve their well-trained court countenances better, but they, too appear to be growing unhappier as your journey progresses ...  


*Pallas the Silent – Captain of the Prince’s bodyguard *

Six warriors your family, one of the most ancient on the continent of Eredane, sent out to battle against the long-eared forest demons.  Your father and all four brothers perished, you alone survived.  

You have pledged your life to protect the Prince’s.  But if the Prince forsakes old blood and honour, and gives his word to marry that vile seductress, that inhuman forest demoness instead – then what will you do? … 

Of your companions, you think you understand Zana’s position best:  of revered traditional and religious office, surely she cannot but disapprove of the Prince’s exotic marriage plans.  Although both Katrin and Keeran, the emotional ones, also appear to be growing unhappier as your journey progresses ...  


*Apari Ghostwalker – Officially appointed Groom-Guide to Prince Daghu *

“Humans cannot be trusted.  Remember this, Apari:  humans – can – not – be – trusted.”  These have been Elder Loren’s farewell words to you.  They sent you on this mission as Groom-Guide to detect human deceit, unveil the lies that will enable the Elders’ Council to expose Daghu at the Cleansing Fire Ceremony.  

You have travelled with them, you have suffered through disharmonious ceremony and barbaric entertainment at their tree-less court.  You have hated the sight and the stink of them.  Yet, you have not found the slightest proof of deceit or intended treachery.  Time is running out … 

You sense strange undercurrents, unspoken half-understandings between the human entourage of Prince Daghu.  Surely there cannot be a plot in hatching?  
Although if there is a plot, maybe you should help it along – it might still help to prevent that unholy wedding?... 

*Keeran – Master of the Hunt *

The Forest Madness is upon him, as surely as your hounds smell a trail.  Ever since your Master first saw that icy woman, two years ago, he has been touched by it, sometimes sickened.  Vile beast.  Charmer of trees.  Shapechanger.  They turn into wolves or serpents at night-time, it is said, to ravish you and eat your heart out in your sleep.  

Yet, nothing is done so far.  Surely the Prince will come to see reason? … 

Of your companions, you believe Katrin most likely might feel similar to you.  Ever loyal, you have seen her sad concerned glances when the Prince isn’t looking.  Zana and Pallas preserve their well-trained court countenances better, but they, too appear to be growing unhappier as your journey progresses ...  


*Zana Than – Veteran fighter and freshly anointed Priestess of the Sahi, Reader of the Starry Host’s Tales  *

If Daghu marries an Elf he will have to renounce his claim to succession – which would greatly weaken the political leverage of his noble retainers of the Than family.  

The Prince seems likeable, if more a poet than a warrior.  But your uncle, head priest of A’Hamra, has got you robed and got you included on this escort, to see what you can do ...  

Of your companions, you think you understand Pallas’s position best:  ancient blood, surely he cannot but disapprove of the Prince’s exotic marriage plans.  Although both Katrin and Keeran, the emotional ones, also appear to grow unhappier as your journey progresses ...  

(Your bastard sword btw seems nameless in this, um, ‘incarnation’.)


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## StalkingBlue (May 23, 2004)

randomling said:
			
		

> StalkingBlue - any chance of editing the first post to reflect the current cast list? It still lists only Zana, Loren and Jarod!




Um, oh, ok.  

I'm also posting the complete current Cast list below.  
---

*The Cast*

*Jez's Band*

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


*Former PCs*

*Jezzan Hest*, weaponsmith from Hamra, Erenlander Ftr4/Bbn1, _deceased_ - killed by an orc minion of Temple Legate Vorne Everett holding her hostage when negotiating for Vorne's escape  
*Tane*, Erethor bowyer and courier, Keeran's brother, Erenlander Rog3, _deceased_ - killed by a lucky arrow through the eye from treacherous Sarcosan rider Zoidan of Zorgetch, after bravely sneaking up to Zoidan on his own when the PCs overran Zoidan's camp in a night surprise attack 
*Loren*, Erethor scribe and scholar, Wood Elf Chn3,  _deceased_ - killed by wolves in defense of Erethor while carrying drum containing Vile Essence 
*Kim*, Hamra apothecary, Erenlander Rog1, _deceased_ - killed by local thug in an underground aqueduct pipe 
*Therin*, Felthera Valley hunter, Erenlander Wld1, _deceased_ - arrested and killed by orcs while trying to escape Hamra 
*Jarod*, Felthera Valley mason and siege engineer, Erenlander Dfd3, _retired_ - was "volunteered" by the Elves at Heren-Nín for emergency siege engineering and masonry works on the Keep of the Cataracts


*Forces of Good*

*"Jan" Jarandur Wym*, old travelling Gnome trader 

*Bendo*, Dornish orc-man leader in the foothills south-west of Al-Kadil
*Ailar*, Sarcosan warrior-woman, Bendo's consort and bodyguard 
*Moon*, orc-man, Bendo's sergeant 
*Melrik*, an orc-man in Bendo's band


*In Dargham’s Folly (originally Dagh Alimi Foor - High Sarcosan for 'Prince Daghu's Dream') *: 
*Captain Bernt*, Erenlander, camp commander 
*Nayeen*, female Wood Elf, Elven Advisor 
*Rennael*, male Wood Elf scout and Keeran’s and Tane’s old friend 
*Dimgol*, resident Gnome trader 


*In Heren-Nín*:
*Inahas*, male wood elf, Council Eldest 
*Feen*, female wood elf, Council Mage 


*Minions of Shadow*

*Vorne Everett*, _deceased_ - Temple Legate Fifth Rank, disembowelled by Zana after having Jez killed inb Leera's mansion east of Saddler's Inn

*Zoidan of Zorgetch*, Sarcosan black-market horse dealer who used to trade with Lord Than - captured by the PCs and delivered to Nayeen and the Elves after he tried to lure the gnome trader Jan Wym into a trap near Al-Kadil 
*Aren*, Sarcosan rider, Zoidan's follower, _deceased_ - captured and killed by the PCs after contacting Jan Wym to set up his meeting with Zoidan 

*Jahzel AlMaeera*, Greater Legate, Eisin 
*Semelin*, Temple Legate, Black Weir 
*Khaark*, someone mentioned as having tongs and a taste for twitching liver 

*Rimhelde*, Soldier Legate commanding temple guards in the Black Weir region south of Felthera, reported to recently have been recalled North


*Also appearing … *

*Loren*, Halfling - Apari's newly acquired slave (named after Loren the Wood Elf scholar)  

*Verity*, Erenlander resistance fighter - rescued from orcs by PCs in Saddler's Inn 

*Pug*, Erenlander - cobbler and resistance contact in Saddler's Inn 

*Patok*, Erenlander - formerly innkeeper of sorts in Pechina, a village half a day north of Bendo's foothills;  tagged along with PCs to Dagham's Folly 

*Tom & Semmo*, Erenlander Wildlanders in Erethor - saved from a Fell Uruk by the party 

*Tunni*, a kid from Dargham's Folly

*Kiriel*, female Snow Elf, _deceased_ - killed by wolves in defense of Erethor while carrying drum containing Vile Essence 
*Naith*, Erenlander, former Hamra port labourer;  rescued by the PCs from goblin warg riders when escorting Kiriel with Kirky 
*Kirky*, Erenlander, _deceased_;  killed by goblin warg riders when escorting Kiriel with Naith 
*Gabe*, man in Hamra reported by Naith to have had Kiriel "in his cellar”

*Historical and quasi-historical figures*

*Ghosts trapped in Noyor-Nín ("Tree Town") and freed by the PCs' preventing a replay of the Elven-human massacre*
*Prince Daghu* - Sarcosan prince of A'Hamra in the early Second Age, groom to Inúriel
*Inúriel* - Wood Elf lady in Noyor-Nín, bride to Daghu 
*Peleorin* - Inúriel's brother and murderer 
*Ardherin* - Inúriel's cousin 
*Loren* - Elder in Noyor-Nín 

*PCs' 'incarnations' in the Noyor-Nín ghost trap*
*Zana Than *- Veteran fighter and freshly anointed Priestess of the Sahi, Reader of the Starry Host’s Tales  
*Pallas the Silent* - Captain of the Prince’s bodyguard 
*Apari Ghostwalker * – Officially appointed Groom-Guide to Prince Daghu 
*Keeran *– Master of the Hunt 
*Katrin Baden* – Sister-Princess to Daghu, raised with him as noble child hostage


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## S'mon (May 26, 2004)

Zana's Story pt 4

ZANA THAN

Zana was grappling with the great ape fire-demon in the ghost-forest.  She pinned its right arm.  Its strength was incredible.  Flames wreathed around her, charring her gear.  She felt nothing.   The fire was cold.  Katrin Baden pinned its left arm.  She was burning, in agony.  But yet Katrin still held on.

Zana felt a sense of great detachment, looking down at herself from above.  Her body was wiry, athletic really, yet always seemed blocky somehow, square-cut.  Cut from the earth.  Her feet were always planted firmly on the ground.  Iron now, all human emotion and feeling long since seared away, burned off in Izrador's cleansing flames.

Nothing could hurt her now.

Katrin Baden stifled a scream as the fires charred her flesh.  Katrin was brave, braver than Zana Than had ever been.  Katrin was soft, vulnerable.  She wanted to live.  Yet still she held on.  For Zana it was easy.

Zana wanted to die.

Eventually - an eternity it seemed - Keeran and Pallas were coming up, weapons drawn.  The elves all around looked on at the scene, framed like a picture in an old book.  They didn't seem to move at all.  Like statues.  Zana fancied she could see right through them.

Keeran, brother of Tane, poked ineffectually at the fire demon with his sword.  It barely seemed to notice, lashing angrily, trying to scrape the humans from its burning body.  Zana could barely hold on. Katrin's strength was amazing - the little redhead Dornswoman looked like nothing, but she easily matched Zana's strength.

Inuriel didn't move, didn't step back from the beast that had slain her.  Caught like a puppet on its strings.  The script had to be followed.  The play's the thing.  

Zana's father had told her about puppets and plays, about theatre and all the life that had been lived, before the Last War.  Zana's grandfather had told Lord Than, when Than was young - "Back in my day, son…" To a fourteen-year old girl, it had sounded like fun.

This wasn't fun.

Pallas came up, Vardatch raised.  He took his time.  He always took his time.  His face was a mask.  It was always a mask.  Katrin was burning.  The stink of her flesh.  The monster couldn't break free.  The Vardatch raised.  Pallas swung, execution-style.  

The monster's head sprang from its shoulders, rolled on the grass.

Victory.

At that the elf Inuriel started moving.  A cuckoo-clock figurine, a wooden puppet sprung into semblance of life.

"My love!"

Inuriel collapsed into Prince Daghu's outstretched arms.

Everything was fine.  Happy ending.

Nothing was fine.  Nothing had changed.

Nothing can change.

The world faded.  The forest transformed.  Jez's Band  stood in a clearing now.  Modern Erethor, or close to it.  Zana was there, with Katrin Baden - scorched, but not too badly burned .  Keeran of Tane.  Apari the elf, and Pallas.  

Zana, Katrin and Keeran had returned to the ghost world to try to save them.  Apari had tried to have her killed.  Pallas seemed happy enough with that, too.  Pallas preferred the ghosts to the living.  Apari just hated humans.  Wanted them dead.

You know who your friends are.

The chief puppet was there, too.  Inuriel, a dead elven princess four thousand years gone.  Zana could see right through her.

Inuriel the elf-ghost was thanking them for their services, prattling on.  Most grateful, the ghosts were.  Zana's head was muggy.  Mud for brains.  Her mother often said that.  She didn't understand.

Apari seemed pleased, receiving the thanks of the elf-ghost.  A proud elven prince.

Zana's mind turned slowly, like a water-wheel in mud.   Four thousand years ago, an elf prince had murdered his sister.  The elves had massacred more than two dozen innocent Sarcosans at a wedding cleansing ceremony, under a flag of peace.  This disturbed the elves.  They didn't like sullying their bright swords with human ichor.  They blamed us.

Humans had been paying for this crime ever since.  What had Rennael the elf said, back in Treetown?  It was hard to understand.  Every hundred years or so, four humans and an elf were summoned.  To replay the ancient tableau.  At its conclusion, the fire demon appeared.  Inuriel was ripped apart, again.  The humans were murdered.  The elf returned to Treetown.  Rennael had been the last elf.

One day, Rennael said, the humans would succeed.  The demon would be stopped.  The ghosts would be happy.  It was again time.  Rennael wanted Jez's Band to be the next five.  Lambs to the slaughter.  Captain Bernt had sent them.  If they succeeded, the ghosts would let the humans have Treetown.

To Zana, it didn't sound like a very good deal.  She had turned Rennael down flat.  Hadn't she?  Their arrival at Treetown, their meeting with him, it was a fog, illusion over reality.  It wasn't real.  None of it was real.  The others had accepted the mission.  Zana had shrugged and bid them good-bye.  She followed them at a distance as they went with Rennael to the silver bridge that led into the ghost world.  She had watched Inuriel-ghost appear.  She had watched Jez's Band follow Inuriel, cross the bridge.  She had turned away.  Then… 

She didn't have a choice.

In the dream - in the ghost-world - she had been a true Sarcosan, noble-blooded.  A priestess of the Starry Host.  A fake priestess, but still.  It had hurt to leave.  Zana had wanted it to be real.  Had wanted it so much.  It had hurt too much to leave.

The elves had betrayed her.

Inuriel-ghost was still prattling on.   Less than a moment had passed.  Apari stood, chest puffed out with pride.  Zana hated him, then.

Venom filled her.

Kursu's hilt was in her hand.  She stepped forward, sword half-raised.  She glared hatred at Inuriel.  Inuriel was still talking.

"You!  You better have a good explanation for this!"

The words were thick in her mouth.  Clumsy.  Not right.

Apari frowned, his equanimity disturbed.  This wasn't how it was supposed to be.  Human filth weren't supposed to address their betters like this.  Ruining his moment.  He raised a hand dismissively, spoke to Inuriel.

"Ignore him…."

Zana was not the most feminine of women.  Elves always had trouble telling human genders apart.  We're all filthy.  We all stink.  Apari did that a lot.  It never seemed to matter much.

It mattered now.

Apari had killed Jez.

Zana shrieked, turned to Apari, Kursu raised to strike.  Cut him down.  Had to be fast.  Tricky elf, he'd cast a spell.  Web her again.  Colour spray, or worse.

She saw the faces of the others blanche, their hands start to move, too slow now - Keeran, Katrin, Pallas - Pallas didn't matter.  Katrin mattered more.  Zana stayed her hand.

The effort churned her gut, but she turned aside, turned back to Inuriel.  Kursu shone like silver.  The sword could hurt Inuriel.  Zana knew it.  Zana was screaming now.

"Talk fast, bitch!"   

 The world changed.


	*   *    *

Later, as Zana Than led her Sarcosan warhorse Blacky west out of Treetown, she reflected upon the conversations she'd had with the elven shade Inuriel, and then with Katrin Baden.  Zana had been initially distrustful of Katrin, seeing a naïve and privileged rich girl who saw Zana merely as an extension of her lost lover, Zana's father.  However, by this time Zana had to admit that Katrin was quite a remarkable woman.  It was easy to see why her father might have been attracted to Katrin.  The woman seemed older than her years, wise in her way, with an easy, supportive air, almost maternal.  Zana's own mother had been a bit of a shrew, Zana thought unfairly.  Not that it had been easy, raising five children with no man in the house…  Katrin Baden had an assurance and centre to her that Zana had always lacked.   Perhaps it was the relatively easy life she had led, but she seemed genuinely sympathetic to Zana.  She had made the road ahead easier.

Inuriel - it didn't seem that much of the elf's psyche had survived all these millenia.  It was like talking to a butterfly.  A four thousand year-old, highly intelligent butterfly that had been murdered at her own wedding-cleansing ceremony.  Murdered by her brother.

Zana had harangued the ghost, demanding to know why.  Inuriel-ghost had few answers and, infuriatingly, absolutely no animosity.  Inuriel had died at the ceremony, killed by the demon-ape.  She didn't know what had happened next.  She didn't know why - or even that  - she had spent the next four millenia luring people across the ghost-bridge to their deaths.  Zana idly wondered what Rennael's friend - Sammo? - had thought as he died, a hundred years ago.  Died for the elves.  As far as Zana could tell, the survivors of the massacre - Loren and his people - were wracked with guilt.  Not over the death of a few dozen Sarcosans.  That would be nonsensical.  No.   They had lied - in blaming the Sarcosans, covered up Prince Peleorin's crime.  The unspeakable act, the murder of a fellow elf, his sister Inuriel.   There was the guilt that could not be assuaged.  In time - centuries of time - they had presumably passed away.  Their guilty secret undiscovered, their spirits wracked with guilt, they had returned to this place.  And the play - the tableaux - had begun.  In the theatre of the ghost-world they had created, the play had run for a very long time.  The five-member audience was appreciative, even unto death.  And so it had gone on.

Who to blame?  Inuriel, Zana had grudgingly admitted, was perhaps least of all to blame for this.  Her only crime, to love a foolish Sarcosan prince.  She had more than suffered enough. Peleorin?  Naturally.  The deaths of Inuriel, Daghu and his entourage lay at the murderer's feet.  But that had been a single bloody act.  Not centuries of torment.  It was Loren and the others - the elves who had covered up the deed, set the wheels in motion.  They were truly to blame - they and all elf-kind.

"We are weak.  You are strong.  But your souls are empty.  You are a dying race.  For all our suffering, all our pain, we will go on.  One day, there will be no more elves.  But Humanity will endure.  Fare well, Inuriel.  Rest in peace."

With words something like these, Zana had turned away from the Inuriel-shade, apparently laid to rest at last, and rejoined the others in Treetown under a modern sky.  She could not stand even to look at Apari the Ghostwalker, who perhaps once she might have called friend.  Later, she had quietly spoken with Katrin, stated her intent to leave Jez's Band, head west alone into the forest.  

Alone with her thoughts, and perhaps some kind of peace.


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## StalkingBlue (Jun 5, 2004)

_[Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: ]_

We slept at Noyor Nin. The next morning, Zana was gone. Katrin had talked to her. She said Zana “needed a break”. I didn’t know what that meant. A break from what? The woman nearly lost it last night, almost attacking Apari. She had screamed incoherently, first at the elven ghost, then at Apari. I had seen it before. She was going mad. She couldn’t stand the ghosts. I saw ghosts all the time, including Jez’s. So be it. It didn’t matter. Zana went. 

The journey back was uneventful. Katrin met a patrol with people she knew. She was going to stay the night with them and catch up with us. We made our way back to Dargham’s Folly. The place was even more crowded, dirtier. More desperate. We were ushered into Bernt’s quarters. He told us to report. Apari did the talking. He talked a lot but said very little. He didn’t tell Bernt anything except that Treetown was now empty of ghosts. That wasn’t true. Inuriel’s ghost was still there. Little the wiser, Bernt told us to report the next morning. We left. 


_Dimgol the gnome trader grimaced. It was evening. Things were not good in Dargham’s Folly right now. The orcs were making major inroads into the Forest. There were rumours that the legendary Keep of the Cataracts was under attack. There was all sorts of other wild speculation of course but that’s all it was. He had learned long ago that there was rumour and there was speculation. The former could be turned to your advantage while you listened to the latter at your peril. The mood in the camp was getting worse and worse. Nayeen the elf seemed particularly affected. She was listless and depressed. There was speculation that she would leave Dargham’s Folly soon. Many people were kept alive by her Stone Soup so if she left, there would be panic. 

There was a massive flurry of action from Bernt’s headquarters. Dimgol could hear his bellows from here and messengers were running even faster than normal in and out of his office. 

All of this was very disruptive to trade. 

Some time later, Dimgol saw a figure approaching. As soon as he recognised it, he went inside and closed up. It was that very odd stranger. The one with the mask. Dimgol didn’t know him but the man gave him the creeps. He rarely spoke to anyone, spent most of his time outside the camp. The only people who were seen in his company regularly were the bunch who called themselves Jez’s Band. He had done a little business with them. The others were all right but this one….Dimgol wanted nothing to do with him. 

He watched him from inside. The tall hulking figure was carrying a sack. As usual it was impossible to make out his features. They were shadowed under his mask. He didn’t look anyone in the eye. The warrior stopped and deposited the sack outside Dimgol’s door. Then he turned around and started walking away. Dimgol watched him for a moment but then couldn’t contain his curiosity. He opened the door and looked inside the sack. There were several bags and two little bottles. The little crystal bottles contained perfume. The bags contained salt and spices. All very useful stuff. Certainly valuable trading commodities. 

Dimgol was puzzled. He didn’t understand. He looked up but the figure was gone. _


I could see that people were already starting to pack, getting ready for the move. 

Katrin had arrived that evening. 

We all arrived the next morning. Bernt was busy giving orders. He turned to us. 

“I want you to go and guard a bridge on the River Felthera. It is a netted bridge. With the new offensive, the enemy may attempt to seize it. We are expecting reinforcements at that outpost from the South, but in the meantime, I want you to go there and secure it. You should meet one of our patrols nearby. Led by Tom. He will give you more up to date information about the situation.” 

We left. I hid my horse. We traveled by foot. Through the forest. Apari finding a path that no one else could see. He led us around a massive boar. We didn’t see it but I didn’t doubt his word. He came back a little later to tell us he had seen a couple of creatures ahead. Tall purple humanoids with big claws. Enjoying themselves in the bushes. Keeran had heard of them. Spider Keepers. Poisonous, used webs, could have big spiders as pets. Potentially dangerous to everyone and anything nearby. Apari was adamant that we should stop a colony of these forming here. We crept up on them. They were still busy. We all got ready. Apari made us fast. Keeran, very quick, rushed forward. Suddenly he stopped. The whole area around them was filled with sticky web. He had almost rushed into it. Frustrated, he took out his bow. He was joined by everyone else. We started shooting at the creatures. Several arrows downed them. They joined the ghosts. 

As we prepared to leave, something started whimpering on a branch. I looked up and saw a big rat. A talking one. It jabbered at Apari who jabbered back. There was an elf in trouble nearby, Apari told us. The rat led us. It bonded with elves. We found a path. There was a figure on it. Cowled, covered in blood, crawling. Apari moved forward. We followed him. The figure suddenly turned around and tried to grab him. It missed. Then an orc rushed out at Keeran. It was a Fell. We killed it and the Fell elf. The rat wailed. Apari jabbered at it. It moved on to the body of the elf and started wailing. I wondered if the rat was a ghost. We left. 

Moving forward on the path, Apari signaled for us to stop. He moved forward and then came back to tell us he had spotted someone. Maybe a scout. We moved forward. We were hailed. By a woman. She climbed down and led us to Tom’s patrol. Her name was Ina. She was wounded. 

A group of orcs and goblins, led by an oruk had captured the bridge and they were cutting down the main tree. They had cleared the assassin vines at its foot. Assassin vines nearby had been goaded into a frenzy. It made moving on the ground perilous. They could make the plants and grass attack. Tom’s patrol had attempted to move through. They were repulsed. The assassin vines attacked everyone. They had killed two of his men. The orcs and goblins were on the Talons in the trees. The position was a triangle. The main tree was the point and furthest away from us. The oruk was there. Archers were positioned in the two base points. The triangle was connected with rope bridges except the base. 

A plan was made. There was no time to be lost. Tom and his patrol would create a diversion. Apari would make Katrin and I fly. I would carry Keeran. We would attack the oruk. Apari would stay behind with Tom. He was too drained to do much else. The plan was put into motion. Arrows were exchanged between Tom and the orcs and goblins. We flew. The tree was being cut down. We saw the oruk. Landed next to it. It had a massive axe. It tried to hit me but missed. We didn’t. It hit Katrin. Then it died. Goblins ran around shrieking. Throwing javelins. Some hit Keeran and Katrin. One scratched me. The orcs appeared from the trees above. I flew up to fight them. There were four. One fell off the Talon in front of Katrin. They died soon. Then we mopped up the goblins. Keeran had gone unconscious, skewered with goblin javelins. Katrin bound him. She was also bleeding. Then we carried Tom and the others to the Talon. I flew over to the other side of the river. The Talons there were empty. Scattered around were the dead. I flew back. 

We settled down to wait for reinforcements. Or enemy.


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jun 7, 2004)

*The Beginning of the Tale of Keeran the Knife* 

(This story is being told from the perspective of a human storyteller, Ghele, some years after the event) 

"Now, the first time Keeran the Knife is mentioned in a story is this one, so sit quiet all of you, and I'll tell you about it." 

"Keeran was part of Jez's band - of course you all know the stories about what THEY got up to, I've told you many times. This story is an early one. I'll tell you about the people involved in it." 

"Firstly, Pallas the Quiet. He didn't talk much, Pallas, except to Apari Ghostwalker, but he was a mighty warrior. He was always there with the others, always stood side by side. The most dependable man you could ever want to fight alongside, and in those days you needed men like him." 

"Katrin the Valourous, too. Firey, she was, with a bright blade and high spirits. Never gave up, and some say she had the power to truly hurt the forces of the Shadow when the need was great. When it came down to those fine moments between light and Dark, Katrin was there for you." 

"Apari Ghostwalker, the Jungle Elf. He may have been quiet, he may have been cagey, but his magic and his sacrifices kept the others going. Although sometimes they never knew it. His sharp eyes and quick channeling was just the ticket, he always knew what to do in the face of the enemy." 

"And of course Keeran himself. He wasn't Keeran Twoblades or Keeran the Knife yet, of course. For this story he was just plain Keeran, a former courier who'd left his brother for the first time to help the elves out, and never saw him again. That was the tragedy of it, he never really got to say goodbye to him. Keeran was a dark man, a violent man. He never formed much in the way of friendships, but those he trusted, trusted him right back." 

"Zana the Sarcosan was also in Jez's band, but she's not in this story." 

"Now on the day I want to talk about it, Jez's band had gone to a bridge on the Felthera, the old rope bridge that isn't there any more since the battle. There they were to help the patrol out there wait for reinforcements." 

"Now then, when they got there they found that Tom O'the Bow was the patrol leader, and he and his men were in trouble. A band of goblins, and orcs, and an uruk, yes and uruk! had attacked them and were trying to cut down the central tree! They'd even cleared the vines out of the way and were using a huge saw to do it! Very worrying." 

"Jez's band knew they couldn't let this happen, and Apari made Pallas and Katrin able to fly like birds so they could carry Keeran over to the big tree. They went up, up, up, high into the sky, then swooped down on the oruk standing there. He was big as a horse, the uruk, with an enormous axe the size of a man, but none of the Band hesitated." 

"BANG! In went Pallas with his vargatch, SLICE! went Keeran with his orcslitter - he only used one then, the other one came later, and BOOM! went Katrin with a mighty blow indeed. The uruk howled in pain and struck back at Pallas, wounding him, and then Pallas lunged forwards again, cutting the uruk deep." 

"And then Keeran, little Keeran dived and rolled forwards as the axe of the Uruk whistled over his head, and as he came to his feet he thrust out his orcslitter and he called out "For Tane!" and he struck that Uruk dead on the spot!" 

"After that it was all over fairly quickly. Pallas and Keeran and Katrin killed all the other orcs and goblins that were hurting the tree, and kept watch. Now soon there were much worse things to come, but that's all you're getting tonight. But remember, it was Keeran that struck the blow, the littlest of them, and he struck it because he was quick, and clever. So even if you're not big and strong, you can still be the one that makes a difference."


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## StalkingBlue (Jun 28, 2004)

_Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: _

*The Mail Boat*

We survived the next few days. A bonus. Then the reinforcements from the South arrived. More archers. They settled under Tom’s command. The netted bridge had been repaired. It was in our hands. Until the next time.  We went back to Dargham’s Folly. We left Tom and his men behind.  We probably wouldn’t see them alive again. 

I took the Oruk half plate. There were some snickers. It still puzzled me that people didn’t understand. The point wasn’t loot. I had what I needed. It was denial of use to the enemy and use to people of our side. It was a massive amount of metal that could be made into armour, swords, shields.  One Oruk half plate didn’t make any difference. But if everyone started taking things…..  I had been laughed at all my life. It wasn’t new. 

We went back to camp. The journey was uneventful. As we approached, it was nearing evening. Strangely quiet. People had probably gone to Treetown. Then we arrived. There were still some people in the camp. The smith was at the forge. Not working. Naith met us at the entrance. Told us to keep quiet. Bernt, the old man, was sleeping. For the first time in days, he said. So be it. It was a good idea. Then I heard hoof beats. It was Zana. She was back. She greeted everyone. Including me. I was a little surprised. Well she had a good swordarm; and she wasn’t dead. Yet. She and Apari were civil to each other. Better, considering she wanted to kill him the last time she had seen him. 

Bernt’s idea was good. I was going to sleep as well. I went out of the camp and slept as usual. The next morning I went back. I picked up the half plate and took it to the smith. He looked at me. 

“What do you want for this?”

“Nothing” I replied. 

“This is really good steel”!

“Then use it well.”

I walked away. No one understood. It didn’t matter. It was one of the reasons we were all dead men. The smith just didn’t know it yet. 

At that point, Katrin stuck her head out of Bernt’s building and called out: “Pallas, Apari, get in here.”

Apari came trotting over. I walked. The captain was awake. We entered into his Map Room. Katrin and Zana were already there. A map was spread out in front of them. The three were talking.

“Ah good. Now you are all here. First, who said that there were no ghosts in Treetown? Some are still there. We had a panic. Children were hurt. Everything is fine now but things were difficult. We really don’t need more tension between us and the elves right now. Things are not good.”

Apari looked down. It was his report. He had not mentioned the remaining ghosts. I don’t know why. I thought it was his affair. He mumbled that he said that the ghosts were no longer unfriendly to humans. He wasn’t convincing.  

“So next time, don’t forget to mention such important factors in your reports.”

He’ll be lucky, I thought.

Bernt asked for a report of our activities near the Bridge. Katrin gave it. It was a short accurate report that failed to mention that the Assassin Vine had been cleared in a perimeter around the tree which supported one of the ends of the Netted Bridge. It left that tree and therefore the Bridge, very vulnerable. Boats full of enemy could land there unopposed from the forest. Bernt also asked whether we had seen any supply boats going up river. There had been none.  Then he said he had another job for us. A place called Atta’s Camp. It was another encampment, South of the Felthera. It had been abandoned. Now, it was now in the hands of the orcs. A Hunt, Bernt said. That meant three score and some; and reports of a channeler. Going by Bern’t past record of intelligence about the enemy, I doubled that in my head; and probably more channelers as well as oruk. They had been trying to make a path between the camp and the River, but this path was veering mysteriously in the Forest. I thought this might actually be true. Things veered in the Forest. Like people’s minds. This information came from an elven scout who had been a prisoner in the Camp but who had been rescued. If we could retake the Camp and hold it, Bernt felt he could forge a link across the river between his forces here and Southern reinforcements. Bernt also told us that Tom had been in Atta’s Camp before and there was an escape tunnel there. Tom could give us first hand information.  

For help we would have Horgred, leader of an orcman band. He was overdue. That meant he was dead. Also, if he could convince her, we would also have Ortemia, leader of another orcman band. She was helping halflings. She also wasn’t back yet. That left the four of us. Nothing new there. Katrin and Bernt then had another discussion. About Kraith, an orc general and the deployment of his forces.  The situation of the Keep of the Cataracts, which seemed to be going badly for the orcs. Katrin then mentioned a “hypothetical” situation, whatever that meant. Bernt said that he would like to free the Keep of the Cataracts. Katrin didn’t like that. She preferred to talk “hypothetically” about the fortress at the Black Weir. Then they talked about the deployment of the orc legions. Katrin knew a lot about this. I became restless. We needed to go. 

We arranged for supplies. Then we left. The journey back to the Netted Bridge was uneventful again. We hailed Tom and his comrades. We told them the news and the possible target. He had been to Atta’s Camp. He told us that they had seen a supply convoy going upriver towards the Keep. He didn’t look very happy about leaving the Bridge. He also said there was no sign of Horgred. We had a discussion about Apari scouting the Camp. Zana and Katrin were very much against it. We decided then to wait for Horgred. I thought we would be waiting for eternity. Then a call came in. A single mail boat was going to pass under the bridge soon. 

A quick decision was made. We were going to attack it. There were eight oars and four orcs on deck. With crossbows. The plan was simple. Apari would make Zana and I fly. I would carry Katrin. Then we would engage the orcs while the archers sniped from the Talons. So it went. Drumming announced the approach of the boat. Soon it came into sight. Then Apari also made us fast. Katrin and I landed and started carving through the orcs. Zana followed up, no less effective. Orcs fell. They couldn’t touch Zana and I but Katrin was severely hurt. She had no shield. The orcs concentrated on her. With good effect. Again and again they struck her. I noticed Zana had a new way of using her shield. Effective. The fight was over quickly. All of us still stood. Katrin was pale and her wounds spouted blood. Apari gave some of his Light to her. 

We had been lucky. That would run out. 

There were two gnomes on the boat. Wendol and Ran Gale. Father and son. The boat was theirs. They were scared. Katrin convinced them they were safe. We took the supplies off the boat. Then we scuttled it. We had several barrels of supplies. A box of cheese. Another of hardbread. There was a barrel of poisoned jerky. A box of perfumed oils. The gnomes resigned themselves. They were still alive. For now.  We settled down for the night.


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## StalkingBlue (Jul 12, 2004)

_Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: _


We talked that night. I did as well. I was letting the others see me more. They were more resilient than other people I had known. We were facing an important battle. For the first time, we were going to have allies. If they weren’t dead. I took Katrin to one side, asked here to put several questions to people. 

Tom was able to tell us about Atta’s Camp and its capacity. Inna told us about the position of the escape tunnel. The gnomes told us that they had been upriver to the Keep of the Cataracts. Twice. They were willing to tell us more when they were “safe.” 

During the night several things happened. Horgred turned up. His men were hurt and exhausted. They had suffered fighting spiders and spider keepers. He did have some though. Ortemia also came. She had more men; they were fresher. Keeran and two other scouts came by. They reported tracks of a large body of orcs moving in a direction from the camp. Then they left. Finally, Saric arrived. A large Dorn, hairy, with a big axe and leather armour. He didn’t say a lot but he knew Zana and she knew him. Besides that, neither said a great deal. We had our force. 

We made a plan. Horgred’s men had to rest the first day. We would take Tom and five of his archers with us as missile troops. We would march close to the camp the first day. Apari would scout it; to make sure it had not changed. Then we would go to the place where the tunnel was. We would all enter the tunnel and get inside. Then we would slaughter the orcs. 

Our total forces were: 10 veterans, 24 youngsters, Ortemia, Horgred and Jez’s Band. Tom and five of his archers. No one knew what we were going to face. I had some ideas. 

After resting, we moved. We skirted the spider-infested part of the forest. We arrived within a few miles of the camp. Apari went off scouting. Some time later he came back. He reported a large square building with a flat roof. It had an inner courtyard. Ladders were placed in this courtyard to access the roof. There was a palisade about 15 foot high on the outside of the building.. There was a large gate in one corner of the palisade. It had rubble piled next to it. This matched what Tom had said. The Forest had been cleared 60’ around the camp. There were five guards on top of the roof. Two wargs and their goblin riders moved in the courtyard. 

We rested. 

The next day, we moved on. Apari had recovered his magic. We arrived at the section of yellow oak, which hid the tunnel entrance. As we moved, Apari froze and came back. He said he could hear chopping. This was the orc road crew. They were making a path to the river. Or so they thought. We moved on and crossed their path. It was very wide. Then the scouts started searching for the tunnel. It took them time but they found it. Or a section of it. We moved in. It was ten foot wide. Again, it was what had been described. All of us moved in. Apari created some light. Some time later the tunnel came to an end and led to a trapdoor. Zana carefully opened it and was shoved up. She found herself in an underground opening. Inside the opening were two humans. They looked dead. They probably were. Zana checked them. They swore they weren’t. She agreed. They said that there had been an orc cohort in the camp but that many had left. The channeler was small and wore a cloak. Probably a goblin. The orc in charge was a Sleepless. He commanded a hundred orcs and had an eye tattooed on his forehead. A powerful foe. Above us was trap door that led to a store room and next to it was another room that had an orc in it. A Hound. 

Zana moved to the trapdoor and cautiously opened it. As indicated, the room above was a store room. We all climbed in. Then she opened the door and saw the sleeping orc. She crept forward as well as she could and killed him. Then we moved in as many people as we could into the space of both rooms. We got ready to open the door. It would lead to the courtyard. Time to die. 

Apari had made us fast. As soon as we opened the door, we saw a warg and his goblin at the far end of the courtyard. Zana charged. I followed her. So did everyone else. There were two orc guards by the large gate. They were killed quickly. So was the warg and his rider. One orc on the roof set off the alarm. The orcs on the roof pulled up the courtyard ladders. Their tactics were quickly apparent. Get to the high point. Deny roof access to us. Use the height advantage and hurl javelins. Set up on the roof. There was bellowing from one of the windows. The commander. He had to die. 

Ortemia’s and Horgred’s men were also pouring out into the courtyard. They secured a ladder. Tom and his men started sniping at the orcs on the roof. Then we started clearing the building. In one room, we found some sleeping orcs and one on guard. Zana, Saric and Katrin dealt with them. I waited for support to tackle the orc commander. Katrin came out to help me. She shouted that someone had attacked her with magic. Apari produced a magical choking cloud in the building where the bellows had originated. I couldn’t go in. Katrin charged a window. Her room was empty. I ran to a door. It was barred. I hit it. It splintered. Inside I saw several orcs. One had an eye tattooed on his forehead. They were scrambling up a ladder inside the room. It led to the roof. Katrin and I caught a few. The Sleepless was too quick. 

We killed the orcs on the ground. Katrin was hurt. I thought to go up to the ladder. Looked up. Too dangerous. I would be cut to ribbons. Went out. Saw Zana lying prone on the roof. Attacked by orcs. Saric was next to her. She and Saric were on their own. The orcs hurt her. Some of our orcmen joined her a little later. The orcs were forming ranks on the roof. Zana and Saric took the lead of the orcmen and made ready. Then one of the orcs grew. He became larger. So did his vardatch. The channeler again. The large orc charged towards Zana. So did two other orcs. Zana, Saric and the orcmen killed them but they were hurt. Then the Sleepless was made large. 

Katrin had been healed. Apari made us fast. We moved as quickly as we could. The Sleepless was faster. He charged. He missed. Zana hit him. We moved. The other orcs helped the Sleepless. Katrin and I moved up the ladder. Saric moved back. The Sleepless hit Zana twice. She went limp. Katrin screamed. I knew. I had seen it before. She was dead. 

Horgred, Ortemia and an orcman moved forward. They fought the Sleepless. Killed him. Then killed the last orc. The orcmen whooped. There was no more enemy to fight. They had won. They had only two dead. So far. They would learn. Katrin moved forward. Looked at Zana. Then she decapitated her. She took Zana’s sword. 

We still had to find the channeler. No sign of him. We thought he was moving unseen the same way as Apari could. The orcmen swept the roof. They didn’t find anything. Then Apari told everyone to be quiet. A little later he led us to a room. As we approached we could hear it. A sobbing, quiet keening. Apari opened the door. We peered inside. Saw a little girl. She was holding her leg. It was laying at an impossible angle and swollen. Apari was taken aback. Katrin moved in, looked at her. I looked at her. Recognised the signs. She was trying to make sure we didn’t see her. I knew what she was doing. I had done the same for years. Katrin tried to react. She was too slow. I moved in and hit the channeler with my vardatch. She slumped. 

Apari looked at me, shocked. I looked at them. Saw their comprehension. A little girl in an orc cohort. Katrin shook her head. Moved out of the room. Apari moved forward and slit the chaneller’s throat. 

We moved out of the room. We had a lot to do.


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## StalkingBlue (Jul 23, 2004)

The camp is secured, sentries are posted.  Apari, who has been praying over Zana's body after Katrin called a moment of silence for the two calualties of the fight and the party's supplies of northberry are passed round for a memorial swig, receives the following Sending from Nayeen: 

*"A Door has opened.  Dawn beckons.  If ever, you are needed now.  Come swiftly but safely.  Bring your friends and bring the Blackened Blade."  *


Back in Dargham's Folly, the elves reveal that Kursu is believed to be the Star Blade, an item mentioned in an ancient prophecy known as the Song of Dawn, most of appears to be lost:  

*”...Star Blade, thrice sundered, four times made whole..."*


They request that the party enter a similar place or state as when they rescued Daghu and Inúriel, by crossing into the White Sanctuary on the New Orc Road at a specific time, wearing amulets that appear to be made of polished stone.  As far as can be gathered from the elves, the "stars and signs" say that the party should find a contact who will ask for help (which should be given) and offer help in return (which should be accepted, probably information that the elves hope will be useful in fighting the Shadow).  The details are hazy, but this is what Inahas tells the PCs:  

*“This is how you shall know him: 
'He partakes of the bread and mould of dawn.  
His head is in the clouds but his ankles chained to straw.  
He will address the one of you who is not present.  
His are the robes of snow, and the lost wolf.'”  *

The party is also given an extra amulet because the elves believe that there will be an ally to be found who might join them. Whether or not that will be the man of the lost wolf is unknown at this point.


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## StalkingBlue (Jul 25, 2004)

_(Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: )_


There was much to do. I searched the body of the chaneller. Found a twisted copper ring. Kept it. I would show it to the others later. 

Katrin was making speeches. I didn’t pay attention. They seemed to be going well. The orcmen listened. They didn’t kill her. I had seen orcmen do that before. 

Horgred and some orcmen left. They were going to deal with the work party clearing the path in the forest. 

I prowled. Looked at the gates. Useless. They were closed but the fixings for the cross bar had been ripped out. I started to look around the buildings. Saw where the orcs had been quartered. Saw the storerooms, the toolsheds, the smithy, the quarters of the Sleepless and the girl. I made a note in my head of what was where. It would help. As I was doing this I saw that Katrin had brought Zana’s body to the courtyard. Apari was next to her, wailing in elven. I don’t know why he did that. He hadn’t liked her anyway and it didn’t achieve anything. Dead is dead. He had better get used to it. She wouldn’t be the last. I hoped he wouldn’t do that when I died. I wished he would hurry though. I had things I needed him to do. Such as look at the charm and search the rooms properly. I was good at searching but hidden things were hidden. He was better. 

Apari was also cradling Zana’s sword. Strange. It was broken, blackened, useless.  

While Apari was mourning I moved to Katrin. Whispered to her that she should question the two men we found in the camp. She called them. They were Rast and Benjin. An archer and a scout. They told their story. Numbers beat the camp. Probably a cohort. The orcs stormed. They had two oruk. One was made very large. He took orc warriors and put them on the roof of the building. Doing that, it was simple for the enemy to take over. The two oruk then barged through the gates. They captured some humans. The elven advisor was killed the first night. He took a long time to die. The humans were put to work. Clearing the forest path. Some died. Some were eaten. Then there were only these two left.

I looked at the collected booty. There was a good vardatch and breastplate, both belonging to the Sleepless. 

Then Horgred and the others came back. They had no casualties. They had killed all the orcs. Night was beginning to fall. Apari had stopped praying. Quickly he came to us and whispered that he had had a message from Nayeen, the elven advisor from Dargham’s Folly. We had to go back and we had to bring the broken sword. It was important. 

Decisions had to be made. 

We had a meeting with Horgred and Ortemia. Katrin made a pretty speech. Ortemia and Horgred agreed to stay for a month and a day. They were not to be called camp guards though. I whispered to Katrin to ask Horgred to stay and tell us about the spiders and their keepers. He was willing though gloomy. He had lost nine good men. Veterans. They couldn’t have been that good if they had died. The spiders had spread very fast. Their poison made you clumsy. They had also laid a trap. Horgred had spotted it. He had also found a large group of orcs. He was leading them into that trap. After that he had to fight his way out. He didn’t know if he had succeeded in leading the orcs into a trap. He hoped so. Then Katrin and he went out drinking. Apari went outside to sleep. I went to sleep without drinking. 

_I saw Zana that night. She was talking with Jez. She was excited. I could see the expression on her face in the moonlight. She mimed a sword stroke. Jez imitated her but with two hands. Then Old Tom appeared. He smiled toothlessly at them. They looked at him. He gestured and a bastard sword appeared in his hand. It was glittering, as if it had captured the light of the moon. He mimed a sword stroke. The angle was subtly different. He did it again. Zana and Jez repeated the stroke. They made a gesture. A shield and a bastard sword appeared in Zana’s hands. A greatsword appeared in Jez’s hands. All of these glittered in the same way as Old Tom’s sword. They tried the stroke. Then they started sparring. Three strokes. One, two three; one, two, three.  It was slow at first. Old Tom would stop them. Demonstrate. I remembered how he did that. Then they would start again. They became quicker and quicker. Watching them from a distance I saw another figure. A young elf. He looked like a scholar. I didn’t know him. He didn’t approach but he smiled at the two women. I saw him take a book out. Make a few notes. Then they all faded, with Old Tom grinning toothlessly. The glitter of the blades was the last thing to go. _

I woke up. We had to go today. Apari was already in camp. Katrin said goodbye to everyone. On the way out, I picked up the breastplate of the Sleepless. Left my own in exchange. No one said anything. Katrin picked up Zana’s breastplate. We had to go via the Netted Bridge. Pick up the gnomes. We made our way through the forest. Apari scouted. Katrin and I walked. Silently. Then we heard a noise. 

“My elf, my elf, here, here”!

It was the leaper, the small rodent. It leapt at Apari. I drew my vardatch. Last time that thing had appeared, there were Fell around. Sure enough, a figure could be seen approaching down the path. We got ready. Then Katrin gasped.

“Tam! Is that you?”

Then she sheathed her weapon and ran. She crashed into the figure with a clank of metal and a fierce embrace. I still wasn’t sure that he wasn’t dead. They separated. She introduced him as Tam, a warrior. Obviously an old friend. He talked a lot. Didn’t stop talking. Everything was boring. The forest, the trees, his life in the North, everything. I stopped paying attention soon. No Fell could talk that much that fast. Katrin and Tam talked to each other, joined by the rodent. They all made the same sense. Soon the leaper stopped talking as it was fed. Then it slept in Apari’s cloak. 

We made it to the Netted Bridge where we spent the night. The gnomes had been no trouble and Wendol had started cooking. Katrin spoke to them. They would come with us to Dargham’s Folly. They had heard of Dimgol. Wendol was more sociable now. Ran was looking for a dead friend. He couldn’t see the dead yet, but at least he was looking. Maybe he would manage later. Maybe not. 

The night was uneventful. 

We traveled to the Camp. Tam still talked a lot. The gnomes were subdued though Wendol did talk. We got there. Something strange happened as we entered. For the briefest of moments I saw everything as if it had slowed. I saw the blacksmith’s hammer about to fall onto a piece of metal, people who had seen us open their mouths about to shout, a boy ever so slowly turn to run to Bernt’s hut; everyone looked at each other. They had felt the same thing. I didn’t know what it was but it hadn’t killed us. No point in worrying about it. Apari and Katrin went into Bern’s hut. I took the gnomes. Dimgol’s shop was open. We went there. Dimgol looked surprised. Then they started introducing themselves. I had seen that before. It would take a long time. They look pleased to see each other. Then I heard a shout. It was Tam. I was wanted. 

I walked over to Bernt’s hut. Inside were Bernt, Nayeen, and two other elves I had never seen before. Male and female. First we had to make our report to Bernt. Katrin’s first attempt left out some things. I whispered some things to her. She told Bernt the rest. Then the elves started talking. Some of it I understood. They talked of the ghostworlds. That we could go into them like in Noyor Nin. Do things. Things that could help us here. Even I could see that the male elf was not comfortable talking about this. It looked as if it was difficult for him to believe that we had done what we had done in Noyor Nin. I tried to tell them what I knew of the Ghostworlds, how they could affect us, how sometimes they were closer and farther away. Not even the elves understood. I should have known better. I didn’t tell them I could sometime see into them. It was my secret.

They also said other things. Talked about prophecies and stars. About the future. I stopped paying attention. The future was unimportant. Today was what mattered and what we needed to achieve in the next few days. After that we could be dead. They also talked about Zana’s broken sword. It was important. They called it the Starblade. It was supposed to do something but they didn’t know what. I didn’t tell them about my dream. About the glittering blades wielded by both Zana and Jez. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.  

We agreed to go into the Ghostworld. It wouldn’t be the first time. We were told someone in the Ghostworld would be our contact. I would believe it when I saw it. Our contacts in these missions were normally dead. We were given a shiny stone. This would help us and shield us there. They called it an amulet. We had to go to the White Sanctuary near the Black Mirror we had destroyed. If we went there at dawn on the third day, we would be able to enter the Ghostworld. 

We supplied ourselves. Then at dawn on the third day, we entered the White Sanctuary.




*DM's notes: * 

1.  The name of the lost friend the gnome Ran keeps asking for is Therin.  

2.  It should be noted that Pallas's self-reported affinity to what he calls "ghostworlds" exists solely in the character's own mind.


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 6, 2004)

As Apari and Pallas cross the Threshold, each PC has the briefest flash of a strange experience:  


*Apari Ghostwalker* notices an impossibly stocky little man jogging beside his horse, whirling a slim black chain.  He recognises the chain that wrapped itself around his forearm a while ago and now rests against the bone underneath the flesh, providing strange magical bonuses.  From dreams Apari has had, he knows that this is Endiken, a dwarf channeler and former owner of the chain who was killed by orcs after running away forsaking his friends.  
Their eyes meet, and for an instant it seems that Apari himself can sense the comforting cool of the adamantine wrapped around the dwarf's hand.  It is like touching the deepest roots of the deepest mountains, and for the first time Apari understands that mountains are also living and growing things - much more ancient and much slower-growing even than the oldest and slowest trees of Erethor.  

Then, as if diving through a water surface, he passes through from the crisp winter morning into warm, green light of summer dawn filtering through vines overgrowing high, crumbling walls of white stone. His heart is beating faster and his bones feel stockier almost as if he has melded with Endiken - in this Other Place the Ghostwalker is human, living a much faster, much more breathless life.  


*Pallas Ellinor* suddenly finds himself caught in the middle of a celebration, whirling to a wild tune in a mad dance, swirling a woman with streaming hair - or three?  The dance is too fast and breathless and Pallas too occupied with checking whether he still has all his weapons and equipment to quite gather whether it is mother, sister or lover or all three he is dancing with ... then his horse propels him through into the Other Place, where his local alter ego is a much younger Pallas, who secretly and without hope loves the young A'Hamran cook Sabba.   


Meanwhile, in the very same Other Place, after hunting an Elven spy through the night the Imperial Guards Lieutenant *Ara Zanir Than* has finally run her quarry to ground in these ancient crumbling ruins.  The warmth and flowery scents of a hot summer night linger in the green underwater light of dawn, and the elf stumbles at her horse's hoofs with a few of her arrows in him, just as a wash like cooler water drifts over her and she senses that someone arrives even before she hears his horse's hooves on the rubble ... 


_[OOC note: Katrin Baden's player randomling was away for this session, so she doesn't figure here.  What Katrin encountered may be reported in a future post.]_

Edit:  Added bit to Pallas's crossing experience.


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## Elder-Basilisk (Aug 7, 2004)

Your non-player readers appreciate the story hour too. Just thought I'd chime in and let you know you've appreciative readers....


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## Brother Shatterstone (Aug 7, 2004)

Elder-Basilisk said:
			
		

> Just thought I'd chime in and let you know you've appreciative readers....




SB, indeed you do, I hadn't seen to many , if any, posts from other so I wasn't sure if you frowned on such things. 

This is actually the first story hour I started to read upon, I love the Midnight setting, I have all the books, but have had no such luck when it comes to having a chance to play so I consider myself playing though reading your wonderful story hour.


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 7, 2004)

Wow!  Thank you guys.  I'm floored.      So will be my players I'm sure - it's them who write most of these Story Hour posts after all.  
(Not to mention that without some fantastic players, I couldn't be running this game.)


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 7, 2004)

Just to state it clearly:  I do appreciate feedback.  I'll also be happy to answer any questions.


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 7, 2004)

Brother Shatterstone said:
			
		

> This is actually the first story hour I started to read upon, I love the Midnight setting, I have all the books, but have had no such luck when it comes to having a chance to play so I consider myself playing though reading your wonderful story hour.




Keeping fingers crossed here that you find other people interested in a MN game, Brother S - we're finding Midnight an incredibly inspiring setting.  If no one's willing to DM it for you, you could always recruit a couple of players and take the tiller ... a small group is prob even best for kicking off a Midnight game.  (I split my group, originally six players, into three subgroups for their first sessions, and would always do the same again, it was great for setting the tone of the campaign.)


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## Brother Shatterstone (Aug 7, 2004)

StalkingBlue said:
			
		

> I'll also be happy to answer any questions.




Great!    I'm not quite done yet, I'm still in the second page as I'm new to story hour reading, but I have hopes of catching up today.


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## S'mon (Aug 8, 2004)

Makes me wish I'd written more than 4 story hours so you'd see more of Zana's side of the story.  Must be strange seeing SB's world mostly from the perspective of _Pallas_...


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## Brother Shatterstone (Aug 8, 2004)

Oops I missed this... I didn't want to post again till I finished reading but I don't see that happening today and didn't want to come of as rude.  



			
				StalkingBlue said:
			
		

> Keeping fingers crossed here that you find other people interested in a MN game, Brother S - we're finding Midnight an incredibly inspiring setting.




Thank you.   Its been a while since I've read the books, but it just seems like an amazing setting.  I'm glad you, and your players share that feeling. 



			
				StalkingBlue said:
			
		

> If no one's willing to DM it for you, you could always recruit a couple of players and take the tiller...




Its a long story, and I won't tell it here cause I don't want to take away from your captivating story but do to my job and its schedule it's impossible for me to find the time to sit in front of a group, let alone run one.

My only real hope is to find a PbP game, game played on the internet via message board. (Play by Post)

So wish me luck on that. 

anyhow, back to reading...


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 12, 2004)

_[Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: ]_

“This is how you shall know him: 

'He partakes of the bread and mould of dawn. 
His head is in the clouds but his ankles chained to straw. 
He will address the one of you who is not present. 
His are the robes of snow, and the lost wolf.'” 


So we went through the White Refuge on the third day as foretold by the elves. On the way, I picked up a ghost. Appropriate in the Ghost World. A young one, about 17. A minor noble. I shared his memories and body. They were different than mine. At least he was quiet. He did what I told him to. As we came together, I saw a celebration. The young one was looking at a woman. His memories knew her as Sabba. Then it was gone. I appeared in a large set of ruins made of white stone, on my horse and with my equipment. I still had my mask.

His memories told me I was in the Second Age. The Sarcosans were fighting the elves. The Shadow had not spread South. We were close to a town called Hamra. There the young Pallas was a court guard, whatever that was. At this moment, the young Pallas was part of an elf hunt. An elven spy was on the loose. 

I dismounted and led my horse through the ruins. Then I saw three figures. One I immediately recognised as Apari. He had picked up a ghost as well. He was human. There was a slumped figure with a couple of arrows in it and riding towards it was the last figure, a woman. I moved towards Apari. He acknowledged me. That was good. No sign of Katrin or Tam. That was bad. They were probably dead. Well we would have to do our best to accomplish our task. Even though we had no idea what it was. I still remembered the cryptic verse of recognition for our ally in this world. Apari looked excited. The rider had introduced herself as Ara Than. He had made the connection with Zana’s family name. I was less sure. The young one knew that the Than clan was big. It was not unusual to find one in Sarcosan lands. Then the air filled with arrows.

Ara had been checking the fallen figure, which was an elf. She bound it. She quickly put it over her horse and mounted, galloping away. That left us. Apari made me unseen, then himself unseen. I tried to ride away but my horse was shot from under me. So I walked out of the ruins. I saw the ambushers were elves. Apari found me in his usual way. He could see me more than most now. He made me fly and I picked him up and we flew away. I had also picked up a couple of arrows in the ambush.

The magic ran out. At this point I decided to trust Apari with one of my secrets. I healed myself with my Light in his sight. It worked in the Ghostworld. He muttered and asked me if I could always do that. I looked at him. 

We set out for Hamra. 

Several hours later we were getting tired. Apari was saying we should find a place to camp. The town was still quite far away. I reminded Apari that we were quite close to the forest of Erethor and that at this point there was war with the elves. It was too dangerous. We heard hooves coming towards us. We saw a group of riders. Ara was at their head. She stopped when she saw us. 

“Ah Ghostwalker. Come with us. We need a good tracker and scout. We are hunting members of the elven ambush at the ruins!”

Maybe it was her assumption of command or the tone of her voice but she set my teeth on edge. I could see Apari had the same reaction. Then I thought, yes, ask an elf to hunt more elves. That will work.  

“Lieutenant Than, I have been on the move for several days and I am very tired. I will decline your offer”. 

It looked as if Apari was just as aware as I that Ara Than was not in either of our chains of command. She could request but not order.  

With a look of frustration she rode off with her men. We continued to Hamra. 

Reaching the town we made our way to the mess hall kitchens where we ate. I looked around me in amazement. I didn’t think I had ever seen so much food in one place; and these were the leftovers. From the look on Apari’s face his thoughts were the same. So we ate as much as we could and then more. One never knew where the next meal was coming from. I had to exert a little more control over young Pallas as he stared at the kitchen woman. He had feelings for her. I didn’t. She was just a ghost. 

We spent the night uneventfully. The next morning, Apari and I had arranged to meet at the mess hall. First I reported to Sargeant Tia, who was in charge of the Court Guard. Then I went to the mess hall. As I was approaching I saw a tall commanding figure, wearing white robes with snowy white hair and a wolf loping by his side. He was surrounded by an honour guard as he crossed the courtyard to the quarters of the Princess Meghna. Then a voice called out: 

“Cousin Virrinu! Cousin Virrinu!”

Lieutenant Ara Than approached the figure and briefly conversed with it before it disappeared inside the building. The wolf looked towards Apari unerringly and bristled, baring its teeth. Then it followed the man. I crossed the courtyard and went into the mess hall where I met Apari. He was excited. He felt that the figure matched a lot of the cryptic verse we had been given. There were some similarities, especially the reference to the wolf. Ara then came into the mess hall and started a conversation with Apari. It turned out the man was her cousin Virrinu, whom she had never seen before. However, he was famous in her family for being eccentric. He had been touched by the Starry Host. He was convinced he should attach himself to the entourage of the Princess. Ara had been instructed to help him as much as she could.  I finished my breakfast and went to the entrance to keep a watch on the door of the building. Apari and I had decided that an open approach was better than subterfuge. Neither one of us could do social subterfuge. 

I watched for a time. The door opened. I saw the young prince Daghu appear with his bodyguard. He was cradling his lower arm, which looked freshly bandaged. He crossed the courtyard and went into another building. I continued watching. Then I was joined by Ara and Apari. Finally the door opened and Virinu appeared. Ara approached him first followed by Apari and myself. As we got closer, the wolf bristled and growled again. The man had to physically restrain it. There was some inconsequential conversation between the man and Ara and then Apari moved forward and said to Virinu: 

“We ask for help and we will give help”. This was in reference to what the elves in Dhargam’s folly had said. The man did not react although he was now fully restraining the wolf. 

He stared at Apari and said: “You should cleanse yourself of that witch blood. It will be the death of you. Yes, I think you could help me. I will call upon you soon.”

I was beginning to get an uneasy feeling. I remembered Bernt’s last contact. Betrayed and dead. Apari however was still excited. 

Time passed with no response from Virinu. Apari and I were getting restless. We did glean that the “Princess Katrin” had been sent South on a mission. We couldn’t find out what. We had to remember that our ghosts were the lowest of the low here. But there was always enough to eat. Then Apari learned that there was an acquaintance of his in an inn. A court guard named Astimo. He invited me along but I refused. I wanted to try to get to see the young prince but I couldn’t think of a way of doing it. 

Then Apari came back excited. He told me that Astimo had been part of an escort for Virinu. An alleged assassin had tried to murder him on the way here. This assassin was about eighty years old, wore nothing but a loincloth and was nearly eaten by the wolf. He was now languishing in the dungeon, next to the elf. Apari was insistent we go and visit him. My ghost had a friend among the court guard assigned to the dungeons. We made our way over there. We had to wait for a time as the friendly guard was not on duty but when he did get there, he let us through. As we made our way down, we heard a familiar voice from the elf’s cell. It was loud, menacing. Then Ara appeared. She looked at us. 

“What are you doing here? You two have been acting very strangely recently. I don’t trust you one bit. Are you elven spies or working for the elves?”

Then she did something unforgivable. She reached out and lifted my mask. She recoiled at what she saw. It took all my self-control not to strike her. The mission came first. She was only a ghost. It wasn’t my real face, only my ghost’s face. I would soon go back to the world without her. No point in causing trouble by hurting a military officer. I counted to ten…..slowly. Apari was looking at me with horror, waiting for the violence. He looked relieved when it didn’t happen. 

We moved to the next cell where we saw a figure lying on the straw. It was a dirty old man. His body was covered in bruises and he looked lost. We convinced her to let us into the cell. When we entered, she looked closer at the old man and a dreadful look of recognition came into the face. At the same time, he reached forward with his hand and touched her face. Faintly he whispered “Jazhel, little Jazhel. They took my wolf away. You have to get him back”. 

“Jahzel is my mother” Ara whispered. Then she rapidly told us she had seen the man who called himself Virrinu now and he was acting very strangely. Certainly not like a cousin. He had been most interested in the two of us, especially Apari and seemed to encourage suspicion against us. We had been watched for the last few days. She also said that he had shut himself in the garde-robe and she had heard another voice, almost inhuman. That confirmed it for Apari and and I. He quickly told her about Legates and mage hunters.

Suddenly there was a cry of “Murderers!” from the top of the stairs.


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 12, 2004)

When Lt Ara Than got back to A'Hamra after her second foray to the white ruins at the borders of Erethor, she found a letter stuffed underneath the door to her quarters.  

The letter is addressed to her in her mother's flowing script. It has a second letter enfolded inside it.  

"Dearest Daughter, Light of my Lonely Evenings – 
I hope you are in strong health and are doing what you ought to.  Your reverend Uncle Arrenu was here and sends word, see the enclosed.  He reminds you to read it.  He asked me twice to retell the story of the day you were made an officer.  I was so proud.  
Always remember to honour the memory of the Mighty Hero your Father.  I groom the dahlias at the foot of his pedestal every day.  
Ever tearfully and faithfully, 
Mother"


"Ara – 
Your mother reminds me where you are and insists that you could be of help.  
Crazy old Cousin Virinu has got it into his head to take the White Robes and go offer himself as Wiseman to His Mightiness the Prince-General.  I have sent him and his smelly beast to A’Hamra with a letter of recommendation to Her Highness, hope that keeps him out of harm’s way.  See that you introduce yourself to him and offer all help, he will need it.  Obnoxious and scatterbrained as he may be, remember that he is family.  
A."


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## S'mon (Aug 17, 2004)

Ara Than's Story

Ara's mighty composite longbow thrummed happily in her hands as her squadron continued to pour fire into the unfortunate monsters that had tried to protect the impostor, Udon.  What had the Ghostwalker - the Danisil - called them?  Orcs?  Apparently they were very strong, vicious creatures - strong but stupid, like the Dorns, only moreso.  It was not wise to get too close.  Lt Ara Zanir Than of the Sarcosan Imperial Guard grinned happily as seventy yards away her arrow took an orc through the throat.  It leapt into the air, clutching amusingly at its fatal wound, then twisted and hit the dirt.  The orcs were still moving forward, throwing their little javelins.  The plain behind them was black now with orc corpses, more than two dozen and further off the pincushioned bodies of their human masters, the Legates, heavy-armoured men lying next to their slain mounts.  
What the enemy lacked in ability, they certainly made up for in enthusiasm.  Their javelins appeared to have an effective range of about fifty yards.  Several were getting close again.  Ara trotted Star back sixty feet, in line with her squadron, and loosed another arrow.  The orc ranks were thinning now, more than half the creatures dead.  The survivors were scuttling around, taking javelins from their fallen comrades,  flinging them angrily at the Sarcosan Guardsmen who remained so tantalisingly out of reach. It was a good thing Ara had ordered the extra quivers before they passed through the Gate, though, or they 'd have been out of ammunition before the last orc fell.
Ara glanced to her new companions, Pallas, who had been of the Court Guard at A'Hamra, and the Ghostwalker, now Danisil, Apari by name.  They were following her lead, apparently surprised by the ease with which the enemy had fallen before her.  It was certainly better than chasing elves in the forest… Another orc fell, four arrows sprouting from his chest, three more in his shield.  Ara wondered idly how such pathetic creatures could ever have conquered the world.  Clearly they had not had true Sarcosans to contend with.  Ara noticed that the fallen orc was getting up again, apparently undiscouraged by the arrow through its throat.  Sergeant Jaru muttered a curse - Ara frowned; Apari and Pallas had warned her about this, how fallen enemies and friends would  arise as flesh-hungry Fell.  Ara was relieved to see two of the orc-Fell's former comrades fall upon it, Vardatches hacking angrily at the walking corpse.  An arm went off, then half a leg.  Ara fancied she could see an aggrieved expression on its bestial face as it went down again, this time for good.

Starry Mother, don't let me end up like that…

"Aah!"   

Ara glanced to the side, down the line, and was surprised to see young Private Aren, newest man in the squadron, clutching a javelin protruding from his chain-armoured side.  Somehow an orc had run forward and thrown the shaft more than sixty yards…

Even these creatures should not be underestimated.

She could see the culprit - a huge, coal-black orc with spiked shoulder-guards - well ahead of its companions, yelling joyously as it realised it had wounded one of its hated tormentors.  It seemed oblivious to the two Sarcosan arrows protruded from the heavy scale armour it wore.

"That one!  Drop it now!"  Sergeant Jaru was yelling angrily.

A dozen battle-bows thrummed, and six more arrows  thudded into the orc.  It was still grinning as it died.  Aren grunted in pain as he pulled the the javelin out from his armoured flank - flung at extreme range, it hadn't gone too far in.  Just a flesh wound. 
The remaining dozen orcs were coming up, howling words of defiance in their guttural tongue.  The Sarcosans fell back again, still firing.  Fire and maneuver, fire and maneuver.  The orcs were doomed, and they knew it.  Yet they didn't give in.

There is a lesson for us all…     

Ara smirked.  

In a  minute the last orc would be dead and her squadron could start to gather up the spent arrows.  Then she'd have a little time to catch her breath.

*     *    *

It had been an eventful two days.  The vine-wrapped ruins where she'd first met Pallas and the Ghostwalker seemed far away now, as they were, in time if not in space…

Ara and a squad of soldiers had been searching for an elven spy in the old ruins, just east of Erethor.  Something had washed over her, she felt, when the two strangers-not-strangers appeared just as she caught the spy.  She'd felt it again today, at the Gate…

Ara had exchanged brief words with Pallas and the Ghostwalker as she tied the wounded elf to her horse.  The spy was trying to return to Erethor.  She had just mounted up when elven arrows started to rain down around her.  An ambush - luckily she'd been able to withdraw, get back to al'Hamra minus three men, already murdered by the elves.  Her search party that evening had found two bodies, the last man doubtless gone forever.  In al'Hamra she'd received word from Uncle Arrenu her crazy old cousin Virrinu was coming from the seminary to be the Princess' Tale-Reader.  Only the man with the wolf hadn't been Virrinu after all, but an impostor working for an evil force Pallas called the Whisperer.  He'd tried to murder the real Virrinu, but her cousin had survived -mistaken for an assassin himself - and luckily Ara had been able to free him from the prison cells before it was too late.  Virrinu seemed to know much that Ara didn't understand.  The impostor's name was Udon.  He'd murdered young Prince Daghu's tutor, wounded the Prince with his evil touch, and even tried to murder the Princess.  Sabba the Cook had given her life as a decoy.  Fortunately Prince Jaradin had arrived back at the fort, in time to set everything straight.  Pallas had revealed himself as a skilled Healer, and had tended to young Daghu's sorcerous wound, inflicted as part of a plan to gain control of the young prince.  Ara had commended the boy on his bravery. 
The evil plot was now uncovered - in some part thanks to Ara herself - and the assassin exposed before he could strike again.  He and his whisper-voiced demon that possessed Virrinu's wolf had been cornered in the al-Kallar crypt,  but had somehow escaped, fled through a black crystal obelisk into another world, another time,  to a city of the dead - the crystal showed a path there, as well as one to a forest that the Ghostwalker and Pallas said was their home.  Udon had taken the al-Kallar Cup with him.  Ara wanted to follow him immediately, but Pallas advised against it.  Apparently Pallas and the Ghostwalker were familiar with this other time, a hellish future where evil ruled the Aryth.  Virrinu had given Ara an amulet that let her pass through the gate - Pallas and Apari had them too.  After discussion, Ara had realised that her horse could also pass through - and so could her men, if she linked them to her!  So she'd volunteered to take her squadron through, kill the assassin and get the Cup back.  The Prince was pleased, and Ara' heart swelled with pride as he commended her on her bravery and handed her his ring.    So they'd entered the Gate - only fifteen of her men had made it through with her.  Ara hoped the other nine had been left safely behind in her time, not sent somewhere else.

The city of the dead was al'Hamra - lying in ruins, thousands of years in the future.  Luckily it was a bright sunny day, and apparently the dead were resting… the Ghostwalker, Apari, had changed then, into a little brown man with pointed ears.  He looked a lot like an elf, in some ways.  Apparently he was a Danisil - Ara made sure her men knew the difference before anyone shot him.  Though Apari said that in this age the elves were on Humanity's side against the evil ones.

We shall see.

After an hour's trek through the ruins, Pallas telling her a little of this new world - he seemed strangely unfamiliar with the Sarcosan Empire, apparently A'Hamra lay beyond its current-time frontier - they came out onto the plains, and saw Udon some distance off, escorted by more than two-score of the ugly creatures called orcs and a dozen of the armoured wizards Pallas called Legates.  A large force - odds more than three to one - but they were poorly equipped, without bows.  

Ara had not hesitated to attack.

*      *       *

"Cease fire!"

The last orc had fallen, and showed no signing of re-animating.  The tired Sarcosans holstered their bows, drawing their Dornblades as they moved back in to dispatch any wounded.  Lt Ara patted the well-wrapped cup, tied behind her saddle.  That was what they'd came here for.

How long before we get back, though?  

Pallas and Apari seemed happy, perhaps a little stupefied by the ease with which sixteen Sarcosan cavalry had annihilated this apparently much-feared foe.  Ara grinned impishly as she spurred Star over to Pallas.  She wasn't going to let him know that the Imperial Guards Cavalry Division of the Sarcosan Emperor was accounted the most feared fighting force on all Aryth, or that all their quivers were now more than half empty.  The Guards' battle-manual said that after softening the enemy up with bow-fire, the Guards were to draw their Dornblades and charge - Imperial Guards traditionally spent far more time drilling with this difficult, straight-edged sword than they did with their longbows.  But the orcs were fanatical, savage, and immensely strong.  In truth, Ara had feared to commit her men in melee against even a single one of the creatures.   But no need to mention that.  

"So you see, easy enough.  Perhaps you could attend to Private Aren there?  He was careless, and has received a slight injury from an 'orc'.  I thank you."  

Ara flashed Pallas a smile, and turned quickly away.


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 17, 2004)

_[Pallas's account, by Pallas's player: ]_

As Ara Zanir Than knelt by her cousin he whispered to her. I couldn’t make out everything he said. He talked about falling in love with the wrong woman, about the Whisperer in the North, about Ara beginning to understand. As he said that, he handed her a talisman of a polished stone, which looked the same as the one Apari and I wore. The old man knew about the Ghostworlds. 

More shouting upstairs. Ara Than looked at us. Looked at Virinu lying on the dungeon floor. She seemed to make up her mind. Looking at us, she said: 

“Can any of you help my cousin? Does any of you have any healing skill.”

This was the Ghostworld. Secrets were different. I stepped forward. Took a look at the old man. Took out some bandages. Then as I was bandaging him, I let him have some of my Light. It was powerful in this Ghostworld. His bruises disappeared, his breathing eased and he looked more alert. Ara looked relieved and thanked me. 

A large squad of Imperial Guard came storming down the stairs. Ara moved forward. She recognised the man in front. 

“Sargeant Jaru, there has been terrible treachery. This man is my cousin Virinu. The man upstairs is an impostor. I don’t know what his plans are but they must be evil. There is no time to lose. We must apprehend him. We should also take these two men. They have expertise in these matters. Especially the Ghostwalker.”

Jaru looked non-plussed. 

“We were told to secure these two and lock them up.”

Jaru looked relieved. I think he was expecting to see a scene of carnage. Instead, things were calm. Ara was convincing. In the end, they came to a compromise. Apari and I would stay in the cell with Virinu, being supervised by a squad of Imperial Guard under Corporal Malvin. She would take the rest of the men to hunt for the false Virinu. We were not disarmed.  

Apari and I stayed in the cell. Apari talked a little with Virinu. Virinu called him Endikyn. Then the elf in the neighbouring cell started whispering to Apari. I didn’t understand what he said. A little time later, there was a blast of trumpets. The young Pallas knew that that meant that someone important was arriving. Possibly the Prince-General himself. We waited some more. Finally, Ara came back with the other men. She hadn’t found the impostor but the Prince General wanted to see us. Ara looked a little apprehensive.  

We were taken to the Tower. Just before our audience, Virinu was taken away by some servants and cleaned up. He was accompanied by the ever-vigilant Ara. Apari and I were disarmed. Then we entered the roof space of the Tower. There was a garden up there. Strange. I had never seen that before. Princess Meghna was there along with Prince Daghu and the Prince General Jaradin Al-Kallar. I looked at him. He was dead only he didn’t know it yet. In a few years time, he would be assassinated on the eve of the Battle of Pelthurin, which would seal the Sarcosan defeat against the elves. 

With prompting, Ara told her story. The Prince-General did not look completely convinced. I looked at Prince Daghu. His arm was still bandaged. Then I quietly asked if I could look at Daghu’s arm. This was granted although Ara still kept a watchful eye on me. I don’t think she fully trusted me. I didn’t blame her. So I approached the Prince, who looked apprehensive. I took his bandage off. That revealed an ugly wound, with blackened edges. As I examined it, the young Pallas almost took over. His personality surged forward almost overwhelming mine. This was what he had been born for. His legendary empathy for with the young Prince sprang into being. The Silent, the Faithful, the Hound. I remembered all those names. Names which would become synonymous with the young Pallas. Very quietly, intimately, he began talking to Daghu, asking him about the wound. The prince was very scared. 

“ _He_ said _he_ would come back. _He_ said if I said anything _he_ would rip my heart out. _He_ said I musn’t tell anyone.”

The young Pallas slowly gained the Prince’s confidence. He promised that he would always be there to protect him. That if he came back, then Pallas would be there to protect him and would rip his heart out first. Daghu told his story.

“ It was night. I saw a cloud of mist come under the door. Then _he_ appeared. _He _opened the door and let the wolf in. I hid behind the curtain. _He _moved and touched my tutor as _he_ lay asleep. My tutor convulsed and I knew he was dead. Then the wolf found me so I had to come out. That was when _he _told me that I was to tell no one or I would have my heart ripped out like my tutor. Nothing would stop _him_. I’ve been really scared. Things are really nasty; and just now, I heard mother and father shouting at each other. They stopped quickly though.”

With a little coaxing, Daghu was convinced to relate his story to the Prince General. He looked a little condescending and sceptical at first but his expression changed to one of grimness as he heard the story. Then there was an interruption. An Imperial Guard entered the room and urgently whispered into the Prince-General’s ear. The Prince turned to us. The impostor had stolen the Imperial Cup and the keys to the crypt. The young Pallas knew that the Imperial Cup was one of the most precious objects associated with the line of the Prince General. Losing it was the same as losing a member of his family. Then screams. Something was happening in the crypt. Ara, Apari and I rushed out, picking up our weapons on the way. We reached the crypt and ran down the stairs. In the darkness ahead, we saw a white moving light. Running between two rows of sarcophagi, we chased it. Finally we caught it. I saw the impostor. His wolf was next to him. The wolf charged the others. The impostor was next to a wall, holding a scroll, seemingly drawing something on the rock. I charged him. I swung and missed in the darkness. He stepped through the wall. Only it wasn’t a wall. It was a large crystal, embedded into the wall. Multifaceted. I saw him briefly inside it. I saw other things in the crystal faces: the ruins of a town full of Fell. A strange green surface.  Others, more difficult to discern. I hit the stone. Sparks flew but it was unscratched. A sudden thought occurred to me. I took out my talisman and tried to put my arm through the crystal. It went through as if through water. I took my arm out. The others had seen this. Apari was staring at the thing that had been drawn on the wall. It was painted in a black oily substance. Apari rubbed it off the wall. Then Ara took her talisman and linked arms with one of her men. They were both able to go through the crystal. 

We went back to report to the Prince General. As we left, I glanced at the corpse of the wolf. I was uneasy. I hadn’t seen the mage-hunter. Apari and I had both assumed that it had been possessing the body of the wolf.

At the Queen’s Tower, we saw that the real Virinu, although crippled, had charmed the Princess Meghna. He also revealed that the impostor told him his name was Udon. 

We were then told that Sabba the cook, had been killed while she had been sleeping in the Princess’s bed. Udon had killed her thinking she was the Princess. I began to see some things. 

Daghu’s tutor had been killed while there was an elven spy in the vicinity. The elf was blamed. Udon, masquerading as Virinu, a holy man, joined the retinue of the Princess. He convinced the princess that he would make a good tutor for Prince Daghu. Then the Princess would mysteriously die in the same way as the tutor. The elves are blamed again. Udon is left in a powerful position through which he can influence the young Prince. Clever, clever Whisperer. We managed to partly spoil his plans but Udon still managed to steal the Imperial Cup.    

We looked at Virinu but he was singing a strange song. We had to gamble. We thought that the strange green surface represented the forest of Erethor. It was most unlikely that Udon would go there. That left the ruined town with the Fell. A group on horseback should be able to outrun them. Looking at Virinu, I wondered just how mad the madman was. Where had he obtained the talisman? Who was Endikyn? I also wondered that if this Ghostworld was the so-called Second Age, and we recovered the Imperial Cup, just what significance that object had for the Sarcosans in my world which was the so-called Fourth Age? Things are very different in the Ghostworlds.  

Ara volunteered herself and her platoon to go and rescue the Imperial Cup. The Prince General gave her his signet ring as a token for her courage. 

Everyone made ready. Provisions, weapons, the rest. Then reluctant horses were led down the stairs into the crypt. As we were about to leave, Apari suddenly called out that he had to deal with something and disappeared for a few minutes. During this time, I explained to Ara some of the things that could be encountered upon changing Ghostworlds. Izrador, orcs, legates, mage hunters, elves, massive and utter defeat. Death and destruction, famine, disease and the Forest of Erethor.  She tried to understand but the issue that elves were now allies was the most difficult one for her to grasp. Again we got ready to step through and this time there was another interruption. Prince Daghu came running down, demanding that I stay. I promised to protect him. That is true. The young Pallas did. His feelings about this are so strong that they almost overwhelm me. The young Pallas decides we will stay. Then he remembered that he himself will be gone for only a few seconds and then he would come back. He promises the Prince that he will be back in a few moments and Daghu accepts this. Finally, linking arms we step through. 

This time it is a feeling as if we are stepping into liquid. Then we step through into the facet showing the ruined city. I feel the young Pallas separating from me. I am myself again. No ghosts this time. We stepped through into ruins. Apari steps through behind me then Ara and her men. Only fifteen out of twenty five. I don’t know what has happened to the others. They are probably dead. Apari starts tracking. No sign of Fell. Nearby we see remains of walls, and a pedestal with a ruined statue. There are dried bundles of flowers and wreaths at its foot. Strange.  Ara and her men immediately form up in military ranks. They are well trained. We stay still, as we wait for Apari to come back. He does, excited. He has found some tracks. We mount up and follow them. 

Soon we see a group in the distance. Horsemen with an infantry screen. One of the riders stands out. He is wearing light clothing. I am positive that is Udon. The others are all armoured. I can’t see for certain in this distance but I am sure many of the infantry are orcs. I warn Ara about them. Apari has been strangely reticent about telling Ara anything. As we ride, she deals with his appearance. She is relieved that he is not one of the “enemy” elves. Her men to take our change of appearance in their stride. They couldn’t see mine anyway as I wore my mask.

We caught up the riders quite quickly. The infantry deployed. There are about forty of them. As I suspected, they are orcs. However, I now see the Sarcosan tactics. Riding up they shoot and then ride back, out of reach of the orc javelins. They concentrated on the enemy cavalry, considering them the most dangerous. Enemy horsemen fall rapidly. This tactic is repeated until the Sarcosans shoot all the horses which Udon could have used to get away. It is deadly and effective. There is nothing the orcs can do. Every time they rush forward to engage, the Sarcosan just ride away. Then they just ride forward and fire their bows. It is very impressive. Orcs start falling. Udon also falls as his last horse is shot from under him. There are now only two more horsemen. Two clerics in black full plate. They ride forward and cast spells. Ara is suddenly paralysed but that doesn’t stop her men. They continue riding and shooting. The two figures fall under a hail of arrows.  

Apari and I can ride forward, around the escort, to deal with Udon. Far behind us we see enemy reinforcement coming. Udon was ready for us. First he tried to make himself unseen but that didn’t fool Apari. Then he tried to use his death touch on Apari but that didn’t work. The warhorse and I hit him several times. Now he started to lose his arrogant pose. As a last desperate measure, he cast a blanket of mist around himself but as he did so, both the horse and I hit him. He fell. I took a bundle from his body, which contained the cup. He was still alive. I speculated if we could take him prisoner for the elves. He would have some vital information. My thoughts were already working. I didn’t know if the elves realised that the Shadow was aware of the Ghostworlds. It could come as a shock to them. We would see. 

I looked around at what we could collect before we rode for Erethor.


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## StalkingBlue (Aug 29, 2004)

Yup, new Story Hour title. Some time between the last month and now, we crossed over into what feels like a new chapter to the campaign.  So...

I'm proud to present Part Two:  

*Veils and Crossings.*

Apari Ghostwalker and Pallas Ellinor have travelled through the obsidian gatestone found in the princial crypt of A'Hamra early in the Second Age, and returned to their own Age and season together with Lt. Ara Than and half a squadron of Sarcosan mounted Imperial Guards. They have hunted down the impostor Udon and taken the Al-Kallar Imperial Cup off him, and killed a good-sized Hunt of orc infantry and some mounted legates while they were at it, with no casualties to their own side. Of the Dornish Lady Katrin Baden and her lover-bodyguard Tam Allin, who went with Apari and Pallas into the Veil but never joined them in the Second Age, there is still no sign.  

At Pallas's suggestion, the group has tracked back to the ruins of A'Hamra to search for the gatestone, hoping that it will let Lt. Ara and her squadron return to her own Age and take the Imperial Cup back.  Finding the right place has been easy. Accessing it, not so...


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## StalkingBlue (Sep 12, 2004)

(Sorry for the delay, people. We skipped one session and lost our faithful chronicler.  Here's a poor overworked GM's effort to fill the gap.  ) 


*The White City*


It has been hours of fighting.  In the thick of melee, Katrin takes an orc down with a wide slash and cleaves through into its neighbour.   Pallas sends the head of one of his attackers flying.  Overrun by orcs, Apari flicks his hands in an elaborate gesture and disappears from sight.  Ara stands over an unconscious guardsman holding orcs off with narrowly controlled swings of her blade.  Wave after wave ... they can't hold for much longer. 

Then, like smoke on a surprised evening breeze, the orcs hordes flutter and disappear, leaving all of them standing in Hamra's white ruins:  weapons in hand, trembling and wheezing with an afternoon of neverending exertion, but otherwise unharmed.  

Shocked silence, slowly they start moving, orders are bellowed.  Katrin looks around worried for Tam, who is not in sight.  

They had been struggling to excavate just before noon, using ropes and horses. The banister of the stairway that used to lead down into the crypt juts tantalisingly out from the rubble.  It is dusk now. Like clouds, large groups of black beings race towards the city ruins across the hills from the east and south-west.  

"Death cannot sweeter be, sky cannot bluer be..." 

Bells tinkle: a many-coloured jester's hat. A whirl of hat and hands and soles somersaults in among them. In this long-forsaken place, a jester? He gives his name as one:  Jester.  He taunts them, chatters, warns them to stop digging. Offers sanctuary and dinner.  

"Only dead men dig here. Digger men go dead..."  

Glances are thrown across shoulders, quick words exchanged. Can they still flee before the orc companies cut their retreat off?  Impossible to tell.  They decide to accept the Jester's invitation.  

After a moment confusion at a seemingly solid wall (the Jester simply leaps through), the company follows into a half-ruined, half freshly-tunneled  underground complex, into a wide cave where a long table is laid with jugs and ancient-looking goblets.  

The company sits. Behind each chair, an armoured and armed man or woman coalesces quietly from the shadows and stands to pour rich red wine.  The Jester insists that this Spectral Guard is friendly; companions of Lord Norden Cain, the last Steward of Greater Hamra who fell with him and took an oath to stay awake with him, forever alert to defend the remains of their city from the Shadow army's onslaught.  

No food is offered by the spectral guardsmen.  Above, orcs can be heard screaming and dying.  The company unwraps its rations, the Jester sings his ditty.  "Death cannot sweeter be, cannot be possibly..." 

The Captain of the Guard, a quick, slim figure who the Jester claims can help the company gain access to the buried gatestone, enters and sits at the head of the table. Beneath the helmet the Captain's face is wrapped tightly in a Sarcosan sand veil.  

There is an intercalation with Ara, who wants the Captain to drink with her; he doesn't.  Trying to see the Al-Kallar signet ring on Ara's finger more closely, the Captain makes an impossibly quick gesture - Katrin gasps.  Despite veil, helmet and armour she has recognised her one-time lover, the father of her late friend Zana, Lord Arrenu Than.  

He is dead, of course. 

And as it turns out, he remembers Katrin.  "Is that why Tam isn't here with me?" she asks.  Ah yes.  If the Lady insists.  At a snap of Lord Arrenu's gloved fingers, a bruised and furious Tam is brought and set free in front of her. 

Lord Arrenu confirms what the Jester has told them. The Keeper Norden Cain still jealously guards the ruins of his city.  He has shadow-wraiths under his control, things that the Shadow forces have sent to fight the undead resistance: he has bent the shadow-wraiths to his will ... Now if a living man makes a wrong move here, they will drain him of colour and life. 

Arrenu offers to help, but wants the head of an enemy in exchange:  a man by the name of Alander Everett.  Ara flatly refuses.  It is decided that the next morning, the company will return to the buried stairway and continue their excavation.  

The night passes peacefully. The Jester, apparently now in a form that can travel through rock, time and again sticks his head out of cave walls happily aping the expressions of sleepers.  Pallas exchanges a friendly jester's pantomime with him during his watch.  


The Jester and Lord Arrenu have not lied. The next day as the company starts digging in earnest, two of Ara's men are assaulted by shadows flitting between cracks in the rubble.  Experiments with torches fail.  When one of the recruits dies and turns into another flitting shadow, the company flees back underground through the illusory wall.  

Ara threatens to have Arrenu shot if he won't order his Guard to dig immediately, without commitment from the company to help him with his revenge against Alander Everett.  An unfortunate remark is dropped about Katrin's "undead boyfriend" that Katrin does her best to ignore and Tam is seen struggling with.  

Katrin whispers to Arrenu that she will kill Alander Everett, for his sake.  At Arrenu's signal, the Spectral Guard starts to excavate.  

The digging will take a while, longer than the company can dare to stay in these ruins, with no fodder for almost twenty horses and shadow-wraiths lurking in the cracks waiting for any living man's wrong move.  It is agreed that the Jester will contact one of the party in their dreams as and when they reach the gatestone.  Meanwhile, the company decides to use an escape tunnel promised by the Jester and return to Erethor...


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## MonsterMash (Sep 21, 2004)

Finally had the chance to read this as life has got a bit less hectic. Good story hour with so many of the players writing in character, and definitely increases my interest in the Midnight setting.


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