# Grim's Scarred Lands Storyhour- Now Running Piratecat's "Of Sound Mind"



## Grim (Apr 6, 2003)

I just started a campain set in the Scarred Lands. The group is in Castalia, the huge, prosperous nation lorded over by an evil, fairhanded king and his half-hag queen. They are in a town not far from Geleena's Grove, a huge forest infested with Titanspawn (monsters). Here goes...

*INTRODUCTION*

What is my crime, Inquisitor Hollun?”

“Silence.”

“Silence is my crime?”

The inquisitor was tall, his shadow long against the wall.

“Silence is your punishment.”

The inquisitor grabbed his hair and pulled his head forward. The burning came.

And then there was silence.

******

“Mommy, why are we here?”

“Hush, Sel. You remember what I told you?”

She put her hand on his shoulder.

“Keep silent, keep hidden, keep safe.”

“Good. Say goodbye to Mommy.”

“Goodbye Mommy.”

“… now RUN!”

By morning, there was nothing left but blood to mark the battle.

******
FIVE YEARS LATER
******

The cords were tight and scratching. They hurt when she struggled.

“Eh, Boss. What’n you wanna me do with little lively one?”

“Hang ‘er.”

******

The Library of Timeless Mysteries was dusty with age. It did well to muffle to voices of its occupants.

“So if I invoke Svellen’s Consistent Runes while also drawing from the Plane of Shadow, what happens?”

“Dolt. It’s Svellem, not Svellen. And nothing. You’re thinking of Svellem’s Morbid Berries and the Plane of Shadow. That opens up a rift in the fabric of the world and sucks you into the Ninth Level of Hell, where Azreal personally strangles you with your innards.”

“Are you sure Davin?”

“When am I not, Broxipus?

******
TEN YEARS LATER
******

The swordswoman was not to be trifled with. One look told the patrons of the _Bloody Dagger_ that much. Two looks and you saw the scars on her hands and neck. Three, the faint runes of the Army Insignia on her shoulder, now just visible. Four, well, four was one looks too many. Four got you a blade in the stomach and a quick trip to Nemorga’s Gates.

“I’m looking for a man named Hollun.” Her voice was broken and coarse, like the deep rumblings of the earth.

“No one here by that name,” droned the barkeep.

“Inquisitor Hollun?”

“Upstairs, third door on the left.”

******

“Hello father.”

“ ’os dat?”

“You’re drunk, father.”

“Eh? No I’m nut durnk. ‘o arrre you?”

“Your daughter, father.”

“I a’nt got a dawter.”

“You do father. You had my mother’s tongue pulled out and you sold me into slavery. That’s how I got these scars, father.”

“I driid? I donnna remmmembr rippin no t-t-t-tong- tonnes-  to-“

“Tongues. Well you did, father. But I don’t care. I’m not here to reminisce. I’m here to get you sober. Celia needs her daddy’s help.”

“Eh?”

******

“Davin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yes Sel. You are going to put a knife in the back of the man who saved your sorry hide.”

“I could have gotten out of those ropes. Really!”

“I’m sure. Is that it up there?”

“Yah, the _Blood Dagger._”

“Glad there’s only one.”

“You’re the most cynical battlemage I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the worst thief I’ve ever had to save.”

“Shudup!”

******

It really shouldn’t have happened this way. But it did. Of all the people Sel could have tried to steal from in the _Bloody Dagger_, he had to choose Inquisitor Hollun.

This is how it went. 

Celia’s shoulder was cold with steel as Hollun clutched it tightly. The stairs would be the worst of it, the way they kept sliding around in front of his eyes. They stopped at the top. 

“Daughter, where are we going?”

“Your redemption Father.”

Then he threw up.

The steps were not an easy decent, especially now that they were covered in the nauseous liquid of the Inquisitor’s empty stomach. Hollun spent most of the time staring at his feet, and making sure that they stayed where they were. He looked up just in time to see two men enter the tavern: tall in robes of white, and short in boiled leather and black cloth. The short leaned over to the tall one, or maybe it was the tall one leaning towards the short. Or maybe it was just the doorframe swimming around a bit.

******

“Him. On the steps.”

“The cleric? He’s drunk. But that woman…”

“I’ll get her too.”

“She looks dangerous.”

“Your mother looked dangerous last night.”

“You sh-“

But Sel was already sauntering towards the bar.

******

“That tall ‘un looks like tro-trou-tr-“

“Trouble. It’s the short one coming right at us that I’m worried about. Can’t thieves be a bit less ostentatious about it?”

“Time don’ change, dau-daughter.”

“No father.”

They finished the steps, and Celia helped her father towards the door.

******

Just a few more feet, and Sel would be passing the two. Two feet. He clenched and unclenched his fist, preparing his fingers. The robes would make it easy to grab whatever was in the mans pockets. That much baggage, a little extra movement would never be noticed. One foot. He looked away from the man, scanning the crowd of people in the inn. 

Contact. Sel slipped his hand into the robes.

Something cold and bony clamped onto his wrist.

******

“Thieves. They never change. Think you can rob a drunk old cleric? THIEF. Do you?”

The room suddenly hushed.

“No ser. I never meant nothing, ser.”

“Then what’s that in your hand?”

“Why this? This is nothing,”

“Then why can I see it?”

“It’s a particularly opaque piece of nothing.”

“It looks to be a bag of platnum calas to me.”

“Why, yes, ser, it does.”

“MY bag of calas.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes.”

The bony hand squeezed even tighter.

“And I’m quite sure that you are guilty of grand theft.”

“And what does that entail?”

“Impressment You and your friend.”

“Ser, I assure you, I am already quite impressed.”

“Not nearly impressed enough. Daughter.”

“Two steps ahead of you.” She had already taken the long, thick rope out of one of her beltpouches.

******


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## 8XXX{0}====> (Apr 6, 2003)

Please Delete.


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## Grim (Apr 7, 2003)

******

FIVE MINUTES LATER

******

"Is this really neccessary?" Sel was outraged, Davin less so.

"You ALWAYS get us into these messes, dont you?"

"I don't try to..."

"But you do. You are bad luck, Sel. Bad luck."

Behind them, holding one end of the rope that bound the pair's hands, Celia and her sobering father paced along.

"Why are we doing this, again?"

"We need the mage. And the thief, and you."

"Why?"

"My boss told me to collect you, and to hire someone to assist us."

"We arn't hiring them."

"Not yet."

Sel broke in. "Why ARE we here? This rope is awfully chaifing, and the road is long when you don't know where it ends."

"We are going to Bellhold," said Celia. "And the rope stays on."

"Bellhold? Why?"

Celia sighed. She hated being cryptic. "My boss is going to build a church, and it needs a bell."

Davin sniped at his partner-in-crime. "Why else would we go to Bellhold?"

"The view of Geleeda's Grove? That town is far to close to that cursed place than I would like."

Inquisitor Hollun spoke. "That's what makes it an adventure. Now keep walking."

******

[EDIT: Spelled Geleeda wrong]


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## Grim (Apr 11, 2003)

******
A FEW DAYS LATER
******

The road they walked was little more than a dirt path when they passed the farm. The farm was little more than a large cottage, a garden, and a few fallow fields. The farmer was little more than an old, balding man with a broad straw hat, trying to catch two horses. 

They grazed, ignoring the man. He sidled forward and grabed for one of the horses, but both bolted away down the road. They stoped, and seemed to ignore him once again, putting thier heads down to graze. The man dropped the rope he carried in digust, throwing up his hands.

"Denev take you two, Blaze and Broadsword! I should never have let that great black destrier sire you."

Sel called out, "Having some horse trouble?"

Noticing for the first time the four travelers, the man turned and called back. "Yes strangers! Would you be so kind as to assist an old man. This is the second time since they came back to the farm these two titan-spawn have escaped the fence."

As they approached, Hollun said, "We will gladly help, goodman..."

"Othic. And no title for me. Just Othic."

As they neared, Othic noticed that two of them had thier hands tied. "What have you men done, he said, "to earn those ropes from a priest and a swordmaiden?"

Sel gave him a sour look. "I did nothing, Mr. Othic. But _he_ thinks me a thief, and my companion a conspirator."

"A conspiritor in what?" Othic asked the battlemage.

Davin was silent.

Sel spoke up again. "I could easily get your horses back, Mr. Othic, if the robed one would untie me."

The inquisitor was annoyed. "Quiet thief!"

"Aww, Inquisitor, even you must have heard of Sel Quickhands. I'm faster than any horse!"

Othic was anxious. "Pastor-"

"Inquisitor."

"Inquisitor, I think we should let Sel try. I'm sure he would be no trouble, and if he could manage to deal with these two hellmounts, I'm sure there would be no harm in undoing his bonds."

Sel's face lit up. "Yes, Mr. Othic. I'm the best horsehand this side of the Grove. I'm sure I can deal with these two."

"Fine, fine," Hollen muttered.

His daughter, though, had something to say. "We should untie Davin too. But if you, Sel, do as much as blink crooked, I swear, I'll tie you up so tight your eyes bulge out and your ribs crack like twigs."

Halfway through the untying, Sel slipped through the rest of the knots and dashed over to the ropes Othic had thrown. He picked up a length, deftly tied a slipknot in it, and ran after the first horse, Blaze, a stout brown of mixed stock. Before Blaze knew it, there was a small man (even for Calastian standards), atop his back and a rope around his neck.

The horse reared up. Then it bolted. The black one, Broadsword, followed. Othic and the three remaining travelers watched as they galloped across the fields, jumping fences, until they were lost behind a low rise.

While Sel took the ride of his life, Davin turned to the Inquisitor. "He always pulls these kind of stunts."

"I wouldn't worry. He'll break his neck soon enough."

Sel returned a few minutes later, riding Blaze, with another rope, this one black, long, and light, around Broadsword's neck.

"I told you. Best horse-man in the west."


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## Piratecat (Apr 12, 2003)

Woot!


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## Grim (Apr 21, 2003)

*OOC:*


 Wow... a mod responded... with praise... I better update! 







******
An Hour Later
******
Celia was pleased. Somehow, everyone was in the same room, Othic's kitchen, and seemed to be getting along.

Sel was to busy wolfing down the mutton Othic had been so happy to serve them to make trouble.

Without Sel to chastize, Davin had relaxed, and he and her father were deep in conversation with Othic.

"So tell us about yourself, Othic," said Hollun. "Have you always lived here?"

"Well, I was born in Bellhold, and I worked in the old copper mines until the dragon fell-"

Celia started. "Dragon?"

"One of the last true dragons, so it is said, Copperdeath was his name. He ruled the mines and lorded over the town, until a band of adventurers slew him in his lair up on Steeple Mountain."

"How did they defeat him?" asked Davin.

"I dont rightly know the details. I was but a boy then. But I do remember some talk of how they surprised him somehow. If you go to the _Bell and Clapper_, the town inn, you can talk to Innkeeper Tokket. His father was a member of that band."

Hollun spoke. "Othic, Bellhold is known for its Bells, correct?"

"Well, Inquisitor, yes, but they stopped making bells once the dreamin' started getting worse," Othic said.

Davin leaned forward, interested. "Dreaming? What do you mean?"

"People have been dreaming mighty strange lately. Dreaming the same things, nightmares mostly. Must be something in the air. Everyone's on edge, animals too. And those three kids dissapeared a few days ago. The local adventuring band went looking for them in the woods and near the mountain, but they never came back. Some went looking for _them_, but they didnt find a single trace. Mayhap old Copperdeath isnt quite as dead as we think. _Heh_."

"Are you having these nightmares too?" the inquisitor inquired.

"No, no. Mostly its only the townspeople that are having the dreams. My only problem is a couple of escaping horses, so I've got aught to compain about."

Sel's bowl was empty. "Please, Mr. Othic, can I have some of this stew for the road?"

"Go ahead, son... Thats, right, yall best be going on into town. Maybe you can help find the children. I recomend staying at the _Bell and Clapper_. Give my regards to MayorWaterman, and tell him I'd be glad to lend my horses for the festival next year."

"Festival?" asked Celia.

"To celebrate 50 years of dragon-free living. Not titanspawn free, mind you. We're a bit to close to the grove for that. But ain't no dragons round here any more."

The group got up, and both Hollun and Davin shook Othic's hand.

Celia bowed slightly. "Thanks for the food, Othic. We'll try to find those kids."

"Any time. You seem like nice folks, and Sel here did me a great favor getting Blaze and Broadsword back."

"I try, Mr. Othic. I try."

Othic led them out of the kitchen, and sent them on thier way.

Towards madness. Towards death. Towards Bellhold.


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## Grim (Apr 22, 2003)

******
A Few Hours Later
******
Dusk that night was a glorious affair, the sun setting just right of Steeple mountain as Celia, her father, Davin, and Sel entered Bellhold. The street they walked was of cobblestones, well worn and flat. Green grass flanked it, and houses behind that.

But the street was almost empty, lacking the usual hustle and bustle of a prosperous town. Windows were shut, doors closed, curtains drawn. The town was certainly inhabited, but it seemed none to friendly.

After a while the houses gave way to stores and such, most of which were closed for the night. Finally, the band entered the town square. Finally, there were signs of life. Merchants and farmers were taking down their stands and banners. It seems that today was a market day, but, as with the shops, it had closed for the night.

A grassy green hill rose in the center of the market square, capped by a huge belltower. High, high above them, a grand copper bell shone gloriously in the dying light. Sel stared at it in awe, wondering how he could steal it.

_His_ mind on the possible and real, Inquisitor Hollun motioned towards the largest building they had yet seen, a simple looking two story inn. The sign over its door was, appropriatly, a clapper and a bell. Davin grabbed Sel's arm.

"Lets go. No more plotting until we get inside. I'm hungry."

Sel's blinked. "Food?"

Just then he notices the small crowd on the other side of the plaza, listening passivly to a gesticulating man on a crate. He is haranguing the crowd passionatly.

"Mr. Hollun Ser! I'm going to go listen to that crazy looking guy talk. I'll catch up."

Hollun grimaced. "I'm coming to. I'm not going to let you move about further than I can throw you, and I'm and old man, which means you stay right with me."

Davin was resigned. "What are you going to get us into this time, Sel?"

Before he could answer, Celia answered for him. "None. If he causes trouble, I'll defenistate him."

Davin smiled. "But what if there isnt a window handy?"

"I'll make one just for him."


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## e3_Jeb (Apr 23, 2003)

I simply wanted to say you've got another reader in me... Keep it up it'll be fun watching where this goes.


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## Grim (Apr 23, 2003)

Working on it. I'll probaby post another update later today. 

Thanks for the support e3_Jeb! I had another story hour a while ago, but it kind of died because the only people who posted to it were the players (they arnt my current players, though), and I didnt really see why I should keep on writing it. So this actually means a whole lot to me! Thank you!


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## e3_Jeb (Apr 23, 2003)

Glad I could be a boost. My friend has recently started a story hour about our games so through him I'm begining to understand the power of even the smallest compliments if to show nothing more than your work is affecting someone. If you'd care to check out The Epic Story of Arudan then go to the link in my signature.


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## Hammerhead (Apr 24, 2003)

Sweet, another cool story. I'm looking forward to some OSM antics ahead. How far ahead in the story are you, BTW?


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## Grim (Apr 24, 2003)

All the way. They finished it in one loooooonnnng marathon session, about... 8 or 9 hours a few saturdays ago.


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## Grim (Apr 24, 2003)

*OOC:*


 Cobble's speach is taken straight from the module.

The speaker looked quite the part of a madman. He was tall and sicky, and probably hadnt eaten in days. His hair was long and unwashed, and he hadnt shaved in days. Of course, the way he looked and talked, giving him a sharp blade would be the last thing you'd want to do.

When he saw Sel leading the rest of the group over, he jumped off of his crate and ran to them, yelling at the crowd for attention, spit flying from his mouth like summer rain. The crowd parted for him. Sel heard one woman whisper "He's titan-cursed!"

And then the man was upon them.

"And here we have new friends! Welcome, friends, welcome. He will gladly take you as well. I was just explaining to these fine people here," and at this his voice dropped almost to a conspiratorial whisper, "that we're all going to get swallowed." His voice returned to normal. "Yes, swallowed! Deep into the avyss, where we are kept for and cared for by the one who hates us! I can see him now... feel him. I have felt him against my skin at night. He... he will bury us all in the deepest pit!" His tone changed again, to one that was almost happy. "I'm not going back to the mine, you see. Never never never. The mine is where he'll find me, so I won't go. He talks to me every day, and tells me hie misses me, but I don't miss his whispers!" Tears began to roll down his face, slicing furrows throught the dirt on his cheeks. "I don't!"

"Corean protect us!" someone yelled from the crowd.

"He's been touched by Chern himself!" another cried.

The Inquisitor wouldn't stand for that. "Who said that?" he yelled.

The old woman who had whispered earlier cried, "Who are you to ask, stranger."

"Royal Inquisitor Hollun, of Fhomhair, wench. Now who said that?!?"

A man edged through the crowd. He had a hard face, worried with age and stress. His short goatee was flanked with a days worth of stubble, and his long brown hair flowed well past the shoulders of his fine fur cloak. "I did. I'm Lucius Krekket, and I'll say whatever I damn well please to you vagabond, be you the Black Dragon himself!"

"By what right do you speak the name of a titan in vain, insult the honor of the Charduni Church, and spit in the face of your king? I should bring you before his highness _King Virduk_, who is no more a black dragon than you are a Hound Archon."

"How dare you!"

"How dare _you_!"

"Father!" cried Celia. "Enough! Mr. Krekket, please refrain from saying a titan's name. It brings thier evil upon you and those around you, and no one wants that."

The madman, who had been silent this whole time, spoke up. "Yes. Evil. Yeeeeesssssss. Evil will rot our flesh, and trap us in its belly, and whisper. Whiiiiisssssssper! Always little breezes in your ear!"

"Shut up Cobble!" And then Krekket drew a sword.


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## Grim (Apr 24, 2003)

The whole crowd stepped back a pace, while the party held thier ground. Cobble started crying again.

"Stop it!" commanded Celia, as she unsheathed her own blades.

Krekket didn't back down. "Make me! This titantainted has lived long enough!" He took a step towards Cobble.

"Madness!" yelled Cobble. "You can't kill me! Only _he_ can kill me! Unless... you ARE him!"

"Don't accuse me of evil, madman!"

CLAP! Davin clapped his hands together, and a golden orb surrounded them. Faster than it took to tell it, it imploded violently. CRACK!

"ENOUGH! There will be no murder in this town! As a Commander Battlemage of the Royal Army, I *command* you to cease this madness. Krekket, sheath your sword. Celia, you too. And you," he pointed to the crowd, "go home, before I have you all arrested. Cobble, come with us."

No one moved.

Finally, grudgingly, Krekket sheathed his sword. "You live this time, Cobble. But if you dare slight me again, this blade _will_ see blood. Good day to you all." He turned, his cape swirling, and stormed off.

Davin turned to Sel, who was presently trying to slip away towards the inn.

"Celia owes you a defenistration."

"But I didn't do anything!" the small man protested.

Celia grinned wickedly. "I know."


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## Grim (Apr 27, 2003)

*OOC:*


 This part was a bit boring and drawn out for both me and the group, so I am sort of summarizing it, rather than give a few pages of dialoge.







The party walked across the square to the inn. The common room had a healthy load of merchants and townsfolk drinking, talking, and singing. Celia talked to the barkeep, a muscled, middleaged half elf nammed Tokket. 

She asked if there is any place Cobble can stay, perhaps a night in the local jail, and Tokket offered to give him a room for the night, one without windows or sharp corners. They asked Cobble if this was good with him, and he mumbled something about "death to everyone." They put him in his room and locked the door.

Davin turned out to have a strong appetite for drink, and talked  aimiably to Tokket for a long while, growing progressivly more drunk. Meanwhile, Inquisitor Hollun ordered a light dinner of mashed potatos and roast lamb, while Sel ordered two of the same. Celia sipped from a mug of apple cider quietly, watching the surrounding patrons. After a time, Davin wandered over, and explained what he had learned from Tokket during thier conversaton.

-The children who had gone missing were two boys and a girl.

-"The Heroes of the Bell" , the local adventuring group (he didnt ask thier names), has also gone missing. They had sworn to find the chilkdren, and left town while tracking down one of them, never to renturn.

-The water may be to blame for the headaches and dreams. Tokket recomends a fine Shelzarian wine that makes a suitible replacement. He also thinks that someone in the town may have offended Erias, the demigod of dreams.

-Most people in town work at "The New Mine", on the slopes of Steeple Moutain, which is owned by the brash Krekket, who also owns one or two of the founderies. He's always been a bully, but he has good buisness sense, and because of him the town has prospered well.

-Wyrmcall, the bell in the Belltower outside, is used to call town meetings and warn people of danger. It used to be sounded when Copperdeath was coming. It's so loud that it actually killed a drunk who passed out up there, and shattered his wine bottle.

-Utrish, the old wise woman, and a good friend of Tokket's, who lives on the mountain side of town, has prophesised that the headaches and dreams will end within the week, and people believe her, as she has been right before. She once told Farmer Othic that his milk cow would go to the "voice of metal", and sure enough, a few days later, Othic's cow was found on the platform next to Wyrmcall, scared to death and unable to get back down the stairs.

-Finally, Tokket's own mother was a bard who helped kill Copperdeath. Tokket never got along with her until just before her death, but he kept some of her momentos, including Copperdeath's two great horns, some of his teeth (still sharp), and his claws, in addition to a sundered greataxe and a diary belonging to one of her friends.

-Tokket gladly showed Davin the diary, and he recopied a piece of it here:

"I don't know what the date is, but it seems like late in the year. I've been working with bloody troglodytes- trogs! - to mine and forge copper and bronze for Goran knows how long. By his half beard! I'm going to try to find the others, maybe to snap them out of that damn beasts enchantment and stop it once and for all. It's got this whole town working as its slaves. We'll put a stop to that. I'm not sure if we'll come in up the mountainside or try to sneak throught the mine tunnels where we saw it before. The moutainside seems more dangerous and open. May Goran bless my endevor and deliver my soul if we don't succeed, as I'll not truckle to it once again."

-Finally, right as they had finished dinner, they heard a deep *BOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGG. BOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG* that echoed in thier chests. Even inside, the bell seemed unnaturally loud. Messangers began calling out "Town meeting in the Plaza, town meeting in the Plaza!" Everyone in the Inn began moving towards the door. The party followed.

the mayor Hob Waterman, along with Lucius and his wife Phillippa Krekket, and someone who could only be the captain of the town guards, were standing on a platform at the base of Wyrmcall's tower. There was a gathering crowd, which the mayor was trying to quiet, with little success. Just as the party joined the crowd, the mayor began to speak.

Some were worried about the children missing, and he assured them that the Heroes of the Bell were quite busy looking for them. Some were worried about the Heroes themselves missing, and he assured them that they were investigating outside of town, and they would be back soon enough. It was about then that he noticed the unfamiar faces of the party, and asked thier buisness in town. Before Davin could get a hand over they small man's mouth, Sel told the mayor "We're here to find the children AND the heroes, AND fix the headaches and dreams!". The crowd murmered, and the mayor was skeptical, but told the party to talk to him after the meeting. The rest of the party said some harsh things to Sel once the crowds attention was off them. Some ask about the dangers of mining at such a time, and Krekket loudly insists that the copper must flow. Nightmares are no excuse to miss quota. Many talk of the headaches and dreams, and of amimals acting strangly. Hob points out that the animals are getting headaches to, but by now both the Inquisitor and his daughter are pretty sure the mayor is grasping at straws.

After the meeting, Hob told the party that any help would be appreciated, that if they want to know more about the headaches and nightmares, they should probably talk to the wise woman, who is knowledgable on the subject. Finally, he asked them to meet him in his office the following afternoon.

They agree, and upon returning to the inn, get a room and fall asleep for the night, thier minds troubled.

Each dreams a different dream, but they are all disturbing and dark.

The morning brings something far worse: death.


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## e3_Jeb (May 17, 2003)

Hey Grim, I don't want to press or insult, but where've you been? There are people who very much appreciate your story...  Do please continue...


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## Grim (May 17, 2003)

Sorry about that. My school just gave me a huge battery of testing over the last month, from SATs to APs, to STAR tests. I had, well, no time at all. But now I do... so... I'll get writing.


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## Grim (May 17, 2003)

The barn was dusty and the wet, musky smell of horses was everywhere.

The sun was already high in the sky, and flies circled the body, which had already been there for hours, lying face down in the soiled hay.

Hollun rolled the man over and looked at his face, what little there was left of it. It could only be Othic. Horribly, there was a bridle bit jammed into what was left of his throut.

Early that morning, Tal, one of the farmhands who worked for Othic on occassion, had found the body, and run to the inn, where he had roused not only the town guards, but the party as well. They had dressed quickly, and hurried back to Othics farm, arriving long before the town guards.

Sel was grim. He hated the sight of human blood. So sticky, so hard to clean. "I think that's a hoofprint in his forehead. I bet something paniced the horses, and they trampled him to death."

Celia stared at him, dumbfounded. "Then explain why there is a bit in his throut."

"Bad timing?"

Davin sighed. "Not now, Sel. Othic was a good man, and this death was obviously not an accident. Still, I think we should take a look at the horses.

Hollun took his cloak off and draped it over Othic. He stood. "They are out in the fields, I saw them as we came in."

"Horses again!" Sel was suddenly happy, and just as suddenly sad. "But no more stew... ever."

They left the barn, and walked out onto the field.

The herd was scattered along the furthest edge of the field, except for two horses, a brown and a black, who were grazing quietly about half way down. The group walked straight at them. When Sel got about 50 feet away, he stopped, and the others stopped with him.

"That's Blaze and Broadsword. And there's blood all over thier hooves."

Celia spoke. "Othic may have been right. Those two were devil-born."

Sel was doubtful. "It could have been an accident. You want me to bring them over here. I caught them once before."

"We all go, or no one goes," said Davin.

Celia was not impressed. "They're just horses."

That didn't discourage Sel. "Fine. I'll get them."

He drew out his rope again, and eased his way towards the horses, walking as non-threateningly as possible. When he got within a few strides of the black one, Broadsword, something strange happened. Blaze turned and looked straight into Sel's eyes. Sel felt as if there was a tunnel between them, as if those big, soft, watery eyes were the only thing in the world, and that he would do anything for them.

Blaze whispered into his mind. _"Two-legs-with-rope. I know you. Now you will feel as I feel. Rope yourself, as you did me."_

"Yes, sir." And Sel slipped the rope around his neck.

Another mind-voice spoke. A deeper, angrier voice. _"And now feel the rope bite, two-legs."_

The tunnel between Sel and Blaze broke suddenly. This was due less to Broadsword's mental intrusion, as to the fact that he had grasped the rope around Sel's neck with his mouth, and yanked it, hard.

The first mind-voice spoke again. _"Goodbye, two-legs."_ The last thing Sel saw before the darkness came was Blaze's hoof, rising straight into his face.


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