# The Adventures of Olgar Shiverstone (Angelsboi: In memorium)



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

Edit 6/17/2004: Angelsboi was the DM for this little series of adventures.  In memory of his passing, I thought I'd share some of the fun he shared with others.

PROLOGUE – CLAN SHIVERSTONE

Clan Shiverstone was gone.  As the earth ceased rumbling and the massive dust cloud that emanated from the mouth of the mine began to settle, Olgar Shiverstone, until moments ago assistant chaplain to Clan Shiverstone, realized two things: he was an orphan and clanless, and he was free.

Olgar proceeded cautiously back to the mouth of the mine, aware that the collapse could continue for hours, potentially.  In the distance, echoing through the caverns beneath the giant citadel, he could hear mocking, gleeful laughter.  _So it was true,_ he thought, _Duergar_.  The giants had hired a company of the dark dwarves.  Unusually intelligent for giants.  And Clan Shiverstone had just been countermined.

Clan Shiverstone had wandered the continent of Rysil for generations, hiring out their skills to the highest bidder.  Like many dwarven clans, they were professional warriors.  Unlike many clans, they did not stay at home and defend a citadel where they mined metals and created fine-wrought weapons and armor.  The Shiverstones were expert miners and stonemasons, true.  But they were also mercenaries, and specialists to boot.  The clan hired themselves out as engineers, and their specialty was mining – digging tunnels into a fortification to either collapse the walls, or breach them to kill the defenders.  

As sappers, the Shiverstones were in a class all their own.  They were in constant demand, and had very rarely been forced to resort to mining metal to make end meet between contracts.  If there wasn’t some noble who wanted to get into his neighbor’s castle, someone always needed a dungeon reinforced with a few special additions.  It was enough to keep the clan both busy and profitable.

 The dwarves had been employed in Figaro for nearly a generation.  The desolate mountains and harsh desert ensured that those hardy enough to survive there were under constant pressure to protect their holdings – or take that of their neighbors.  Ulfgar, the leader of the clan and Olgar’s father, had been satisfied to keep the profits rolling in.  The Shiverstones did have an ancestral home somewhere, Olgar was sure, but it was a secret Ulfgar had never revealed.  Just as secret was the reason the clan had left their homeland in the first place, never to return.

_Guess I’ll never know now_, Olgar thought, as he sifted through the rubble of Shiverstone’s last sap. _ Me da’s taken that secret with him to the grave._  He’d found a few dwarven corpses, and more body parts, but no one alive. _ Curse da’ for me work wi’ the chaplain!  Damn Kraig – I shoulda been here!_


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*PROLOGUE, cont.*

Since the clan moved around so much, young dwarves were expected to start earning their keep as soon as they could walk.  Most learned stonework, digging, or fighting, which kept them on the front lines, or down in the sap, during a fight.  Ulfgar was shrewder than most.  He apprenticed his son to the clan’s chaplain, Gher.  Gher was a war priest of Kraig.  He called Kraig’s blessings down upon the clan before each battle, so that they might dig well, fight better, and destroy their enemy’s hold.  The chaplain himself fought with the clan leader, using his divine skills to increase the destruction at the point of the fight.  

A clan leader who was also a war priest would be more effective, and a greater leader, than a mere stonemason, as Ulfgar had explained to his son.  Ulfgar had ulterior motives, however.  As an apprentice, Olgar would be expected to remain behind at the clan’s casualty point and care for the injured.  This would ensure that he survived to be clan chief.  Olgar’s older brother Wulfgar had perished leading a melee with a tribe of bugbears, and Ulfgar had decided that one of his sons would survive to be clan chief.

_Women’s work,_ Olgar thought.  Not that the Shiverstone women didn’t do their share of the fighting.  The entire clan was on the front line when it fought.  _The place for the clan chief’s son is next to the chief, learning leadership!  Or at least usin’ the power o’ Kraig to smite the chief’s enemies, not hidin’ in the rear wipin’ noses!_  Olgar had long suffered under the chaplain’s whip, wanting to take the fight to the enemy, rather than tend to the wounded.  He also wanted to strike out on his own, and make his own fortune.  Plundering tombs and causing havoc were more proper tribute to Kraig, in his mind.  He chafed under the strict rules and military discipline of the clan.  Kraig preached rage and destruction.  Sapping was precise work, requiring knowledge, discipline, and its own brand of savagery.  It was a contradiction Olgar had never quite resolved.

_Guess I’ll gets me chance to make me name,_ Olgar thought as he dug, fighting back the tears building, and trying to focus his rage against the enemies that destroyed his clan. _ Don’t think o’ me da’.  Destroy! Fight! Kill!_

The clan had last hired out to some human noble who wanted to stop a series of giant raids on his territory.  Olgar had never paid much attention to the details.  The noble’s scouts had located one of the giant’s strongholds – a cave complex in the mountains, guarded by reinforced walls at the entrance.  The giants, mostly stone giants with a smattering of other types, had fought far more intelligently that most giants, hinting at perhaps some other allies that hadn’t yet been discovered.  Not that that mattered much – the Shiverstones were hired to tunnel into the complex, collapse the walls guarding the front gate, and open a second route of attack for the assault force.  The dwarves would also be allowed to partake in the giant killing and loot gathering, a prospect that had ensured every member of the clan was deep into the sap, digging for all they were worth, to get at looting before the humans had the chance.  Only Olgar had remained behind – under orders, and more from fear of the beating Gher would administer than any orders.

There had been a rumor that the giants had hired a company of deep dwarves.  Ulfgar had dismissed this.  No self-respecting dwarf, even the vile duergar, would stoop to working for giants, or so he thought.  The evidence around Olgar was pretty clear.  A second sapper company had dug a counter-mine – another tunnel that intersected and ran below the Shiverstone sap, and had collapsed it, causing the Shiverstone’s sap to collapse as well.  The entire clan had died as the floor collapsed from under them and violent, magical energies rubbled the walls.

_Death to all giants,_ Olgar swore,_ and death to them stinkin duergar!  I’ll be avenged fer me da’!_

His digging slowed as grief and rage consumed the last of his energies.  As he despaired of finding any survivors, he noticed a gleam from the rocks below.  Digging furiously, he unearthed the shining blade of a greatsword.  

_By Kraig!_ Olgar thought,_ it’s Stonecleaver!_  His father’s Claymore – the big, heavy broad-bladed sword that was the symbol of Kraig and the standard around which the clan rallied – was slowly lifted from the rubble.  Many of the dwarves carried similar swords, though the big swords were less effective than smaller weapons in the confines of a mine.  Olgar had not yet earned his – bestowed as a holy symbol of Kraig’s might by Gher when Olgar completed his apprenticeship.  Stonecleaver had been the finest of the clan’s weapons.  It was rumored to be magical, and possess powers that enabled the clan leader to sap straight and true, and always bring victory.

It hadn’t worked this time.  Olgar found no other trace of his father.  Eventually tiring, and afraid of being discovered alone by giants or their allies, he gathered his belongings and slipped out into night, to seek his own fame and eventually avenge his clan.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chapter 1 - Aurora Falls*

CHAPTER ONE: AURORA FALLS

“Whoa,” the teamster shouted to his horses, bringing the wagon, with the long line of the caravan behind it, to a stop.  “We’re here.”  He motioned to the short figure off to the flank and rear of the wagon, waving it forward.  

Olgar Shiverstone stumped forward to meet the carter at the lead wagon.  “Aye, we’re here.  But by Kraig, I ha’nt a clue where here be!”  He looked up at the carter, who was still seated on the wagon bench.  Olgar was footsore from miles of stumping along at his best pace behind the wagon, and his shoulders ached from the weight of his armor, weapons, and pack.

“We’ve reached Aurora Falls, safely I might add,” the carter said looking down at the dwarf.  “Here’s your pay.  We’ll be returning to the capital in a week’s time, if you want to sign on again.”  The man tossed a small pouch to Olgar, clicked to his team, and the caravan moved slowly into the small town.

“Not bloody likely,” Olgar shouted back.  “A pox on yer stinkin’ caravan!  I’ll be wantin’ more fightin’ and less walkin’ next time.”  The wagon was disappearing around a corner.  “Aye,” the dwarf said to himself, “might be sumat better offers here, I hopes.  Safe caravan, my bloomin’ arse! No danger pay, an’ nary a good fight th’ whole trip.”

He shook the dust out of his kilt and brushed off his scale mail.  _No sense waitin’ around here, might as well explore and see what this hole offers.  Kraig’ll be getting’ testy._  Olgar shifted his shoulders, settling Stonecleaver in the sheath slung across his back, and walked into the outskirts of Aurora Falls.

It was a small town, located in the flats of eastern Zodicia.  The houses were small, snug, and flat roofed.  A great many were set up on short stilts.  There was no plan to the town, mostly just a couple of houses sprung up about a crossroads.

There was a tang of fetid, rank water in the air. _ A bloody swamp!_ Olgar thought._  I shipped to a bloody swamp!  Da’ would be a mite disappointed.  This’s no place fer any self-respectin’ Shiverstone lad to be.  Not likely much masonry or stonecuttin’ here._ 

In fact, most of the buildings in the town were timbered.  Olgar noted one or two built of stone, resting on stone foundations.  Shoddy work, that. he thought.  He was just about to examine some of the work more closely when the ring of a hammer on anvil caught his ear.

_Well, tha’s more like it!  A’ least where there be a smithy, there be weapons, a perhaps a bit o’ work t’ be found!_

Following the sounds of hammer falls, Olgar soon arrived at the town square.  A large, multi-storied building fronted one side of the square – the town hall, obviously.  Another large structure, from which the smell of food and ale gentle wafted sat opposite the town hall.  A small fountain sat under some trees in the center of the square.  The tapping sound was coming from a bit further on.  Olgar stumped on across the square.

A group of old men, dressed in worn smocks and dirtied boots, milled about the entrance to the town hall.  Something had obviously agitated them.  

“Crickey, a dwarf in a dress!” one of the men guffawed, pointing Olgar out to his fellows.

Olgar had to respond.  “Wha’s yer problem, never seen a dwarf before?”

“Not one as ugly as you!” came the reply.

“Well, I ain’t near so ugly as wha sired you!” Olgar responded.  _Bunch a’ ignorant ha’seeds!_ Shocked, the man turned to his fellows, muttering.  Olgar returned to stumping across the square.

He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned.  A small figure – a halfling, dressed in darkly dyed leather, and a dark cloak, with a small bow slung over one shoulder, was scampering up to the old men.

_Bloody runt,_ Olgar thought,_ this’ll be interestin’. _   The halfling was out of earshot, but talked, waved, and gestured to the old men, who were at first animated, then shook their heads.  The halfling looked about, crestfallen.

Then the largest human Olgar had ever seen walked up to the group of old men and the halfling.  He was half again and more Olgar’s height, dressed in green and brown leathers.  The man had a short beard, and wild, long hair tied back in a ponytail.  A few small pouches were tied about his mid section with bits of leather thong and braided grasses.  What caught Olgar’s attention the most, though, was the largest axe he had ever seen, double bladed and long hafted, which was strapped to the man’s back.

_Barbarian tribesman,_ he thought,_ likely good in a fight.  Axe’ll be dwarven craftsmanship, ‘er I’m a bloody peck._

The tall man bargained with the old men for a bit, motioning to himself and the halfling.  The old men looked dubious, but finally one of them nodded and went back into the town hall, returning with a small sack that he handed to the barbarian.  The barbarian and halfling shook hands with the men, who seemed much calmed, and then walked away to stand by the fountain.

The bag looked to have a familiar weight and shaped to it.  Olgar’s suspicions were confirmed when the barbarian opened it and began handing coin to the halfling.

_Gold,_ Olgar’s eyes gleamed greedily. _I’ve got t’ get me some o’ tha’ action!_  He walked up to the barbarian and his midget sidekick.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, cont.*

“Aye, I donna wha’ sort a’ deal ya’ cut with them ha’seeds, yer tallness,” Olgar began respectfully, “but if ye hired on fer a job wi’ them, an’ there’s fightin’ involved, ye’ll do a durn sight better wi’ me than wi’ tha’ runt there.  Wha’ ye say, hire a real fighter, one’ll do Kraig glory an all?”

“Who you calling a runt?” the halfling squeaked.

“You, peck, “ Olgar retorted.  “Now get b’for ye gets stepped on by yer betters.  Wha’ ye say, tall man?”

“The deal was for the short one and I,” the tall man replied.  “Don’t need any help, thanks, shorty.”

The halfling smirked.  It was all Olgar could do to keep from wiping the smirk off his face with a swipe of Stonecleaver.  _If’n there’s more where that came from – no fool pays in advance! – we may just ha’ a better deal.  An’ no peck is getting’ the better o’ a dwarf!_

Olgar put on his best wheedlin’ look.  “Since I bet’s there’s more gold a’ coming, I’ll make ye a special offer.  Ye can have me services, bargain rate, fer a share o’ the loot gained, an’ the second payment.”

The tall man considered.  “For a share of loot gained, we can take on some additional help.” He waved away the halfling’s indignation.  “Provided you prove your worth.”

“Worry not about me worth,” Olgar replied, “all glory to Kraig for the damaged I ‘kin do.  Ain’t ye never heard o’ th’ Shiverstone clan?  Ye’ll get more from me than th’ runt here!”

“Expert-treasure hunter!” the runt insisted, “And my name’s Belarn!”

“Yer name’s runt,” Olgar replied, “an’ will be until ye proves yerself worthy o’ a name.  Let’s see ye filch this ‘ere sword off me back, expert treasure-hunter!”  

The halfling stepped back.  “On second thought, I’ll stick to finding some gold and gems.  You’ll see.”

Olgar turned back to the barbarian.  “I’m Olgar Shiverstone, sword-swinger fer the greater glory o’ Kraig.  So wha’s the job, now?”

“I’m Wodyn Bearclaw,” the tall man replied.  “Those were the village elders.  Seems one of their fellow farmers has gone missing, a month or more now, and they’ve hired us to go find him.”

“An’ did they tells ye anything else about him?  Or where is home is, or family?”  Olgar asked.  _I ain’ a missin’ person locater._

“No.”  the tall man responded.  Bloody idiot, Olgar thought.  All brawn, no brains.

“I’ve got the answer to that,” came a voice from behind them, “but I’ll want a piece of the pay to give it to you.  And I’m coming along!”

Olgar turned.  Standing behind him was a second dwarf, bareheaded and –handed, robed, but with a crossbow slung at one side.  _Ah, tha’s more like it! A kinsman, ‘n not a runt.  A bit tall, though. _ The dwarf towered over Olgar by three whole inches.

“Olgar Shiverstone’s me name.” Olgar offered. “Clan Shiverstone, of late of northe’n Figaro.  Wha’ d’ ye know ‘bout th’ missin’ ha’seed?”

“I’m Alton Stonemarrow.  Stonemarrow clan, southern Figaro,” the newcomer replied. “I was just in talking to the mayor.  The farmer has been missing about a month, as has his family.  His house is about a mile out of town.  I’ve got directions.”

“Ah, Stonemarrow.  I heard o’ ye.  Good family ‘n all.  I says yer in.” Olgar looked at Wodyn, then glared at the runt. “Le’s be off.  Fin’ th’ farmer ‘n be back fer th’ reward by supper.”

Wodyn and Belarn picked up their assorted bundles, and the group began walking toward the outskirts of town.  As they walked, Olgar chatted with Alton, until he noticed movement inside Alton’s tunic.

“Wha’s tha’, man! Ye’ve got vermin!”  Olgar yelled, stopping and preparing to tackle the other dwarf.

“Oh, these’re just my friends, “Alton smiled.  A ferret poked its head up out of Alton’s cloak hood, followed  by three more.  “Say hi.”

“Yer daft, man, keepin’ w’ bloody ferrets!” Olgar shook his head.  _Some kin’ o’ bloody animal lovin’ pansy.  Wha’s the world comin’ t’?  This jobs onna cash ‘n carry basis, now.  Praise Kraig, an’ I’ll be spittin’ me some ferret if’n the opportunity presents itself._

Olgar put a little distance between himself and Alton, and the group walked onward, with Belarn and Wodyn trailing.  Just outside of town, Wodyn gave a shrill whistle.  A giant stag, with at least nine-pointed antlers, burst from the woods.

“Stan’ back, we’ll be eatin’ well tonight!” Olgar shouted, grabbing for his crossbow and hastily loading a quarrel.  Wodyn slapped the crossbow down, and before Olgar could protest he noticed the saddle and bags on the creature’s back.

Wodyn pulled himself up on the stag’s back, and kicked the creature into motion, waving at the others to follow.  _Another bloomin’ critter lover.  Kraig, ye better be lookin’ the other way a’ the moment.  Yer servant ain’ coverin’ himself in glory wi’ this bunch. _

“I ain’ ridin’ no bloody deer!” Olgar protested.  “Them’s fer eatin, not ridin’!”

“Walk, then,” Wodyn replied with a grin,”but don’t think of harming my friend here, or you’ll answer to me.”  The steel in his tone was unmistakable.

“Aye, have it yer way,” Olgar replied, “like as t’ give me indigestion.”

The group walked onward, over a slight rise, though some trees, and out of sight of the town.  They came to a farmstead.  From the edge of the fields, they could see rows of unharvested pumpkins, a rag-tag scarecrow standing in the middle of them.

“This is it,” Alton said, waving at the path that led up to the farmhouse door.

“A bloody pumpkin farmer?  The reward ha’ better be worth it, barbarian.  Ye don’ sen’ a Shiverstone t’ fin’ a bloody pumpkin farmer!”  Olgar spit in disgust.  _Kraig, if’n ye sees fit t’ smite yer humble servant, I’s a’ not be blamin’ ye._  “Aye, then, le’s get it o’er with.”

Olgar and Alton led the way up to the farmhouse door.  The halfling trailed them, and Wodyn tarried behind to send his wild steed back off into the woods.  Olgar was trying to figure out how to turn the ignominy of the situation to his benefit when the ground dropped out from under him.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, Cont.*

He landed with a thud, with Alton beside him.  “Farmer’s bloody paranoid, what?” Olgar said with a grimace.  He had twisted his ankle upon landing.  Alton was dusting himself off, also a bit worse for the wear.  _Ten feet, give or take.  Not bad work, _Olgar admired, looking around at the pit, _but the amateur should ha’ put some spikes in!_

“Are you alright?” The halfling’s faced poked over the edge of the pit.

“Get a bloody rope, runt” Olgar growled. “ An’ get tha lolly-gaggin’ Wodyn to haul us out!”

A few moments later, a length of rope dropped over into the pit, and the barbarian hauled the two dwarves to safety.  After recovering their breath, Alton pulled a thin sliver of twig out of his pack, waved it at his scratches, and watched as they closed over.  “Need some?” he asked Olgar.

“Handle it me self,” Olgar replied grumpily.  _Kraig, bless yer humble servant, fer he was an idjit an’ should’ha made the peck walk first. Take th’ power ye gave me to doom me’ enemies, ‘n heal yer servant. _ Olgar sighed as he felt the power to curse his enemy slip from him, replaced by a lessening of the pain in his ankles.  They weren’t completely healed, but they could bear his weight well enough.  He’d hurt himself worse playing games as a child.  “Well, off wi’ ye then, runt, an’ earn yer pay.  Farmer’s a bit worried about his guests, an’ that’s want expert treasure hunters’re for.  Go on!”

He motioned to the halfling, who looked apprehensively at the house, then more apprehensively at the heavy crossbow Olgar was fitting a bolt to.  The halfling opted for the better part of valor, and scampered up to the house.

The house was a single story, stone, with wooden doors and boarded-over windows.  Belarn swiftly looked them all over, circled the house, and returned, shrugging.  “Looks safe,” he said.  “There’s a small graveyard out back.  It’s not too old.”

“Better not go in by the door,” Wodyn said, “Might be trapped too.  I knock out a window, and we’ll go in that way.”  The tall man unlimbered his axe, and stepped up to one of the windows.  Alton followed, while Olgar and Belarn remained below, watching and covering with their missile weapons.

Two swings later and the boarded-over window burst open.  The splinters had barely fallen when a spear hurtled out, just nicking Wodyn.  The barbarian swung at a small figure just visible through the shadowed window.  There was a wet thunk as the creature’s head separated from its body and bounced off the far wall.  A second figure was visible just behind the first.  Bows and crossbows twanged, and Olgar’s bolt found a resting place between the creature’s eyes.

Wodyn dived into the window, rolling out of sight.  Olgar patiently reloaded his crossbow.  Wodyn came to the window an moment later.  “Kobolds,” he said. “That explains the pit.  Probably for early warning.  Come on in, there aren’t any others here.”

The stench hit them as they climbed in the window.  It was nauseating, overpowering, the stink of decay and death.  I could not be explained by the two kobold corpses lying by the broken window, nor by the still perfectly set but covered in a month’s growth of mold meal that sat on the dining room table.  The stench was more pervasive, sharper, and more evil.

“Bet we’ll fin’ th’ farmer in th’ cellar,” Olgar choked, trying not to gag, ”dead a month ‘n all.  Mystery solved.  Betcha th’ kobolds killed em’, ‘r moved in after ‘em.  Figger th’ family’s gone too.”  He waved his hands around at the seven molded-over table settings, and a roughly-done portrait on one wall that showed a man, woman, and five children.

“Here, put this under your nose, “ Wodyn offered, smearing a bit of minty gunk under each of the party member’s noses.  “Belarn, check the house; look for a cellar.”

The halfling nodded and snuck into the house, with Alton following.  Olgar puttered about the dining room, leaving kobold-blood footprints, then stepped out into the hallway and Belarn announced “I found a stairwell.”

“That’s bloody useful, runt, “ Olgar said, walking up behind the halfling, who was looking down a flight of wooden stairs that led down into a stone-walled celler.  “Especially since the stairs weren’t hidden.  Here, I’ll lead th’ way.”

Olgar pulled out Stonecleaver, and used the sword to check the steps below him for rotted boards as he walked down into the cellar.  As he reached the bottom and began to look about in the dim light, he heard a hiss from the far corner of the room.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, cont.*

Two kobolds stood in the far corner.  The nearer one was the largest specimen Olgar had ever seen, a full three-and-a-half feet tall.  It was well muscled, wearing only a loincloth, and carried a battle-axe that looked ridiculously large for the tiny creature.  Behind it was a second kobold, dressed in long robes, and holding a short bit of staff.  What little light there was glinted off of an amulet and earrings that the creature wore.

_Scratch two kobolds,_ Olgar thought to himself, as he hefted his sword and prepared to charge.  A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Greetings, we mean you no harm!” Alton called from behind Olgar, rapidly moving in front of the other seething dwarf.  As he passed, he whispered to Olgar “Try negotiations.”

“I was,” Olgar whispered back, “aggressive negotiations.”  He kept an eye on the kobolds, but decided to let the pansy-diplomat do his bit.

“We’re looking for the farmer who lived here,” Alton continued, speaking to the kobolds.  “he has disappeared, and we’ve been hired by the town to find him.  Can you help us?”

“Farmer no longer live here,” the robed kobold hissed in accented Common.  “Go ‘way, kobold live here now!”

“Na’ longer live here ‘cause ye killed ‘em?”  Olgar asked from behind Alton.  _A likely story._

“Stupid human,” the kobold replied, and a bolt of magical energy flew from its hand, striking Alton in the solar plexus and knocking him to the floor.

“No’ne messes wi’ me kin!” Olgar shouted in fury, and charged the axe wielding kobold.  His first swing would have gutted the creature, had the kobold not dodged at the last second.  _Fast little bugger.  Knows how to use that axe, too._

A battle cry sounded behind Olgar as Wodyn tumbled into the room, pulling out his greataxe as he did so.  He bounded up next to Olgar, and with one swing swatted the kobold into next week.  

There was scratching behind them.  Belarn was guarding the top of the stairs.

“Stop, me surrender!” the remaining kobold cried, falling to its knees.  “Me tell you what you want to know!”

“All I want to know is how much blood you have in you,” Olgar replied, stepping forward to spit the foul creature, but Wodyn stepped between his sword and its intended victim.  

“I accept,” Wodyn said, “you have my protection.”  He sheathed his axe, and knelt to speak to the kobold.

“No creature like tha’ canna be trusted,” Olgar argued, “It probably killed the farmer an’ his family.  Like to ate them, too.  Let’s spit ‘er an be done with it!”  A divine rage still consumed him, and he was ready to spill the creature’s blood in the name of Kraig.

“What guarantees do we have that we can trust you?” Alton asked from the bottom of the stairs.  His wand had worked its wonders again.  

“Me sorceress!” the creature replied. “Me give you familiar.  See? Rat!”  She pointed to a rat hiding under the stairs.  “Me do something you no like, you kill rat, that hurt me!”

Olgar whirled on Alton.  “Ahr, spit th’ bloody rat an’ cook th’ bloody kobold!  I’ll na’ trust ‘er!”

Alton gathered up the rat, stuffing it head down into a scroll case.  “We just killed your fellows,” he said to the kobold, “even with your familiar, why should we trust you.”

Olgar heard a spitting and smacking sound behind him, and turned to see Wodyn shaking hands with the kobold.  

“We can trust her.  She’s under my protection now,” the barbarian said.  “Anyone who wishes to harm her must deal with me first.”  The kobold skittered to hide behind the big man’s legs.  

“Gruunge weak.  Killed by human.  Serve human now,” the kobold explained.  “You no trust, kill familiar, that me hurt.”

Alton nodded agreement.  “Killing a familiar causes terrible harm to a sorcerer, that I know.  Fine.  Wodyn, you deal with her.”

The kobold nodded.  “You good human too.  Just one bad human.”

“I’m a dwarf,” Olgar growled, “you bloody git of a kobold.  Dinna be insultin’ me by callin’ me a human.  Alton, gimme that rat!”

Alton shook his head.  “Tell us about the farmer.” He told the kobold.

“Farmer not here.  Just kobold.  Our farm now” she replied.

“Twist th’ rat’s neck, Alton,” Olgar growled.  “Then sh’ll co-op’rate!”

There was an audible click, and then, more distantly, the sound of a door latching.  Olgar looked sharply at the kobold, then toward the left-hand wall, where the sound had come from.  “Runt!” he shouted, “Get yer arse down here.  We’ve got a s’cret door to find!”  He began searching the walls as Belarn came down the stairs to assist.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, cont.*

“What’s here, Yuusdrail?” Wodyn asked the kobold.

Fear clearly evident on her face, the kobold shook her head.  “Nothing!”

“Talk!” Wodyn demanded, balling a fist.

“Naked man!  Through wall!  He run!  No dangly bits!  All I know!”  the kobold blurted in a rush.

“There’s a door here,” Belarn squeaked.  “It’s got an inscription on it.  Also, a dial with three holes.  I think its trapped, but I’m not sure how.”

Olgar and Alton crowded over to look at the inscrption.  Olgar shook his head, but Alton said, “I can read it.  It’s a riddle.  It says:

	“Blessed and cursed, three times three,
	 Round and round, comes back to thee.”

Alton reflected for a minute, and then put a finger in the dial and turned it three times.  Nothing happened, but a wave of revulsion passed through Olgar.  _Kraig, give me guidance.  I am na’ touchin’ tha’ thing! _

“Wait a sec,” Belarn said after the others had stared at each other for a few minutes.  “I’ve got it.”  He put his fingers into the holes, pulled the dial out, rotated it three times, then pushed the dial in, and repeated the motion.  There was a click, and a stone door swung open in the wall, revealing a narrow corridor behind.  

“Aye, runt, ye’ve almos’ earned yer pay,” Olgar said, thumping the halfling on the shoulder.  “Can we kill the kobold now?”

“No.” Wodyn replied.  “As I said, she’d under my protection.  Yuusdrail, what’s down there?”

The kobold shook her head.  “Not know, but bad, very bad,  Me no go.”

“Oh, yer goin’ wi’ us!” Olgar said.  “Peck, lead the way.  Tall one, if’n I gets me hands on’ the kobold, I’ma gonna eat ‘er, so she’s yer responsibility!”

Belarn led the way down the corridor, followed by the kobold, Wodyn, Olgar, and Alton.  After thirty feet of travel, the corridor started descending slowly, and got brighter ahead.  After eighty feet, it turned a sharp right, and red, glowing torches could be seen on sconces high in the walls.  Twenty feet from the bend in the corridor was a stone double door, adorned with a number of strange runes.  They hurt Olgar’s eyes to look at them – if he stared at them, they seemed to move, writhing before his eyes.

“Well?” Belarn asked, looking back at the others, “what now?”

“Scout the bloody room, runt!” Olgar growled.  _Kraig, save me from such bloody idjits!  Olgar prayed.  It’s only to spread yer glory through war ‘n slaughter that I assosciates wi’ such dunces.  Spare yer humble servant from the idjitness of pecks!_

Belarn’s eyes bugged, but with wodyns insitence, he gradually opened the door a crack, and looked in.  

“Big room, like a temple,” the halfling whispered back.  “Nasty altar, pews on left and right side.  Seven skeletons, moving!  One’s by the altar, waving his hands around!  Door on the far side of the room from us!”  He gently closed the door and backed away.

“Battle plan,” Wodyn said, motioning the group around the corner.  They backed up into the darkened hallway.  “We’ll use fire.  Belarn, take these two oil flasks.”  He pulled two stoppered containers out of his pouch and handed them to the halfling.  “You sneak in, and pour the flasks in the aisle, then hide.  “One of us will make a noise, and get them to walk into the oil.  Then, I’ll throw a torch into the mix.  We’ll only have to fight the ones that survive the flames!”

“Me help,” the kobold piped up.  “me make noise!”

_Spiffy,_ Olgar thought,_ the kobold’ll help_.  Probably alert ‘er master ‘n fry us all.  “I’m nae an’ expert, but I can try an’ scare some of ‘em away,”  Olgar added, “after they’re on fire!”

Wodyn nodded. “the fire will burn quick, so once it’s down, we’ll rush in and finish the rest.  Got it?  Go!”


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, cont.*

Belarn crept back and opened the door softly, stealing into the room like a cat.  He gently tipped the flasks of oil onto the ground, forming a puddle in the aisleway.  Olgar could just make out the rows of pews on either side of the aisle, and the skeleton gesticulating in from of an altar.

There was a noise behind them, like pots and pans rattling.  The skeleton stopped gesticulating, and pointed back toward the doorway.  Wodyn kicked the door open the rest of the way, and the group could see six more skeletons rising from the pews and moving slowly into the aisle – into the puddle of oil.  

Belarn backed away from the aisle toward the far wall, the puddle of oil preventing him from rejoining the party.  Two of the skeletons turned to follow him.  The other four moved toward the open doorway, where Wodyn stood, torch in hand.  

Wodyn dropped the torch into the oil and stepped back, pulling another small flask from his pouch.  The oil exploded in a ball of fire, causing the four advancing skeletons to burst into flame.  They disregarded their now burning bones and continued to advance.

“By the power of Kraig, I banish thee!” Olgar shouted, holding up his upraised fist, making the holy symbol of Kraig’s power.  Nothing.  _Guess ol’ Kraig expects us to do it the hard way, _he thought, pulling out his crossbow.

Olgar and Alton attempted to fire their crossbows past Wodyn into the temple, but the bolts ricocheted away, useless.  Yuusdrail the kobold gripped he staff and waited.  As the first two burning skeletons reached the door way, Wodyn threw the second flask at them.  Water turned to acid as it his the undead creatures, causing them to melt, buckle, and finally fall to the floor, inert.  The remaining two burning skeletons continued to advance, but were incinerated by the time they reached the doorway.

Belarn meanwhile was tumbling for his life, trying to stay out of the way of the two skeletons chasing him.  He rolled this way and that, barely managing to avoid their grasp.

As the flames gradually died down, Wodyn charged into the room, followed closely by Yussdrail.  Wodyn closed with the skeleton on the altar, swinging his axe wildly and knocking chips from its bones.  The skeleton responded by raking him with its skeletal claws.

Alton bounded past Olgar into the temple, jumping over pews, and landing a one-two punch-kick combination on one of the skeletons threatening Belarn, dropping it.  Olgar, burdened down by his armor, followed, sword raised, but the remaining skeletons were being herded into a corner, out of his reach.  Aided by a couple of whacks of the kobold’s staff, Wodyn finished them.

“Well, that was easy,” Belarn said, as he crawled from under a temple pew.

“Aye, thanks t’ th’ barbarian’s big axe!” Olgar muttered, looking around.  The old temple was dusty, musty, and felt oppressive.  Torches lit the walls – magical ones, probably, since they gave off only light, not heat or smoke.  The pews were dry rotted.  The altar was covered in more of those writhing symbols, and there were tools of some sort of top of it.  Behind the altar was a window that looked in on a calm pool of dank water.

“This place is evil,” Wodyn said, “when we get a chance we should come back and consecrate it.”

“Consecrate my arse!” Olgar retorted, “I’ll consecrate it in th’ name o’ Kraig!  Kraig ha’ been victorious here!”  He smashed the objects on the altar with his sword, scratching a symbol of an upraised fist into its surface.

As he did so, the room seemed to go strangely silent.  His vision swam as if he were under water, and he felt a brief vertigo.  His head hurt like it were being stretched, and his mind felt as if it were expanding.  The feeling passed, and he found the others staring at him.

“Stupid dwarf,”  the kobold said, “kobold know better that to defile altar.”

“Yeah, you’re head’s bigger!” Belarn mocked.  “Not that it wasn’t huge to begin with!”

“At ease, runt!” Olgar barked.  He felt his head with his hand.  It was swollen-feeling, and the wrinkles on his forehead seemed more pronounced. _ By Kraig, what manner o’ curse is this!  All I ha’ done were fer yer glory!  Protect yer humble servant!  _Nothing. _Bloody Kraig, likely off on a bender again. _ “Bloody kobold wench!”

“That was strange,” Wodyn said.  “are you alright?”

“Nae tha’ I canna atone fer, me boy,” Olgar muttered, “Runt, try th’ door.”

Belarn looked over the rear exit to the temple while Alton attended to Wodyn’s wounds.  He looked at the others and shrugged, then opened the door.  Beyond was a short hallway, with two widely spaced doors along the right-hand side.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, cont.*

“Check the first door,” Wodyn told him, as the group formed up behind the halfling.

“Nothing,” Belarn replied, opening the door on a small, empty room with another door beyond.  He slinked forward and crouched at the second door.  “I hear splashing and sloshing,” he whispered.

The group looked at each other and shrugged.  No idea.  Then Olgar noticed that the kobold was slipping toward the back of the group, on hand hidden behind her back.  He pulled up his crossbow, whirled, and leveled it at her.

“Spill it, kobold,” Olgar hissed.

“No help stupid dwarf,” the kobold replied.

Wodyn reached over Olgar and picked up the kobold.  “We’ll trade, little one.”  He handed her a couple of gold pieces.  She grinned a toothy grin, and produced a scroll.  Unrolling it, she glanced at it, then handed it to Wodyn.

“Can’t read anyway,” she said.

Wodyn handed the scroll to Olgar.  To his surprise, he could read it – a few divine spells that might come in handy later one, especially one that would make a sword of flame.  “Owe ye one, tall man,” Olgar said with thanks.

“Stupid dwarf,” the kobold said from three feet over his head, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Bloody kobold wench,” he retorted.  “Alton, gimme that rat.”

The kobold giggled in glee.  “Rat joke, not familiar.  Fooled you.  Stupid dwarf!”

Alton silently handed the rat to Olgar.  Olgar took the rat, bit its head off, and dropped the carcass on the floor, smiling a bloody smile up at the kobold, who went strangely silent.  Wodyn set her on the ground, where she gobbled the rat carcass, then ran and hid at the back of the group.

“I’ll take this one,” Alton volunteered, once Olgar and the kobold had settled down.  He stepped forward to the door and opened it.

Olgar recognized the small room beyond as a baptismal.  The dank water was shallow, and the glints of coins could be seen coming from its shallow depths.  Alton stepped forward to retrieve the coins, just as Belarn let out a small shriek.

A viscid glob of water rose up out of the pool, writhing and whirling around.  It extended two pseudopods, which lashed out at the surprised Alton.  Both struck him, pulling him into the center of the thing.  His crossbow fell from his hands, and Olgar could see the bubbles trickle from Alton’s mouth as Alton screamed in silent terror.

Olgar’s first instinct was to slam the door and depart.  _I dinna sign on to do savin’ from th’ like o’ that.  Ah, but he’s a bloody dwarf ‘n all.  Kraig’d prolly take I’ none to kind iff’n I abandoned me mate._  He readied his crossbow.

The creature’s pseudopods continued to lash about.  Wodyn jumped into the pool, which was knee deep, and slashed at the creature with his axe.  Belarn loosed an arrow into the center of the thing, but the arrow only floated in the center of the creature.  Olgar fired a bolt, missed, and stepped forward, drawing his sword to see if there was a way to free Alton.  Alton continues to struggle in the center of the thing, but it was clear that if he was not freed soon, he would drown.

The creature struck back at Wodyn, hitting with both pseudopods.  Wodyn managed to fight the creature’s pull, but he was battered and bruised, and would clearly not last much longer.

_Kraig forgive me, _Olgar thought, _I swore I’d na’er be a walkin’ first aid kit, but if’n Wodyn goes down, we all do. _ Stepping around the lashing creature and ducking below its pseudopods, he touched a hand to Wodyn, channeling energy into the man.  Wodyn roared with renewed strength, then retreated from the room.

“Bloody traitorous bastard!” Olgar screamed as Wodyn abandoned him.  “Ye’ll na’er get help from me agin! “  He slashed at the creature with his sword, hitting with great force and just missing Alton, but the creature continued to lash about.

From the open doorway came another arrow, which splashed ineffectually into the water creature.  A bolt of magical energy followed.  That staggered the creature, and it visibly lost some of its strength.  It focused on Olgar now, lashing out at him, but he was thus far able to dodge its ponderous blows.

“Come back ye traitorous bastard!” Olgar shouted again.  The kobold appeared in the doorway, looking tired and bedraggled.  She launched another mystical bolt into the creature, then staggered, and fell into the pool.

“Magic gone,” she said, and passed out.

Olgar landed another slashing blow on the creature, but it was becoming clear to him that even Stonecleaver was having no effect on it.  The only thing that could stop it was the kobold’s sorcery, and the kobold was down for the count.  He considered diving in to grab Alton and go, but reasoned that the creature would just swallow him up, too.

Just then, Wodyn dived through the doorway, splashing into the center of the creature, and knocking Alton into the clear.  Alton sputtered at the far wall of the pool, but remained barely conscious.  Wodyn was now trapped inside the creature, waving at Olgar to help him out.

_Damn fool,_ Olgar thought. _ No choice, first aid kit time.  Kraig, forgive th’ idiocy about t’ be performed by yer servant._  He stepped to the right, grabbed the little kobold, and channeled his remaining divine energy into her. 

Yuusdrail came back awake, hunched, and launched two more fiery bolts of energy into the creature, then lapsed back into unconsciousness.  It was enough, With a watery gurgle, the creature dissipated, and the pool was still.

Belarn entered the room, pulling his friends back into the dry room, and taking time to police up the gold from the bottom of the pool.

“We’re spent,” Alton said, “time to head back up and rest.”

There was no argument.  Spiking the secret door closed behind them, the group located Wodyn’s camp in the woods, and settled down to rest and re-prepare their spells before resuming the assault on the underground complex.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, cont.*

The next morning, the group rested briefly to prepare their spells and equipment for the next assault.  Wodyn hunted, and brought down enough game for a decent breakfast, with some leftovers that he donated to Yuusdrail’s kobold tribe.  Surprisingly, Yuusdrail had stayed with them through the night, and was present the next morning, along with her real familiar, a crow.

Olgar decided it was time to eat a little crow.  

He walked over to Yuusdrail and sat down.  _Just get it over with,  he thought, Kraig’ll spit on ye later. _ “Aye, wench, ye done real good yesterday, savin ‘r lives ‘n all.  Just want t’ say tha’ ol’ Olgar don’ hold no grudges.  Good?”  He held out his hand.

“Good.” She replied, and licked his hand, holding out her paw for him to do likewise. “Stupid dwarf.”

“Bloody kobold wench.” He replied.  He touched his tongue to her paw, and bolted.  Moving over to where Wodyn sat, sharpening his axe.

“Ye, big man, ha’ got more provin’ to do.  I dinna like tha’ disappearin’ trick, but I’ll counts the scroll agin’ the healin’ as fair.  I’ll be keepin’ me eye on ye.”  Olgar nodded once, and watched the man.

“Fair enough,” Wodyn replied, “consider the debt paid.  Let’s head out.”

The group packed up and headed back into the cellar of the farm house.  To all appearances, no one had passed through the secret door since the night before.  They opened the door and passed back through the temple, which looked similarly untouched.  They ignored the door to the baptismal, and instead headed for the second door in the corridor.

It opened onto a long, dank passage with a series of six evenly spaced doors running down the right hand side.

“Looks like a crypt ‘r penitent’s chambers,” Olgar said, as they moved cautiously forward.

Belarn listened at the first door.  “Footsteps.  Not clear, sort of shambling.”

Wodyn turned to Olgar.  “Got anything ready for undead?”  Olgar shook his head.  “We’re exploring a temple to who know what evil god, have already found undead, and you didn’t prepare? Fool!”

“Aye, Kraig smite me fer a fool, but he be not granting any undead smashin’ stuff.  ‘e prefers the sword,” Olgar explained. “I gots summat special when th’ time comes.”

Wodyn just shook his head.  Belarn checked each door, and all had similar noises but the last.  That door they opened, and found another short corridor that ended with a door to the right.

“I go.  You stay,”  Yuusdrail said, motioning for them to stay put.  She moved out ahead, opening the door and entering.

“Aye, ye gets the feelin’ she knows more than she’s a tellin’?” Olgar observed.  The others could only nod.  They crept forward, weapons at the ready.

From the room ahead, voices could be heard.

“Ah, Yuusdrail,” they heard a cold, soft voice murmur.  “So nice of you to return.  Have you found anything? Any luck with the book?”

“No, master,” the kobold’s voice replied, though without the accent and broken syllables they were used to.  “The search has turned up nothing thus far.  We will expand our search, and perhaps find what you are looking for.”

Olgar gave Alton an “I told you so” look.  _Bloody kobold’s been working for th’ other side th’ whole time!_

The cold voice returned.  “No, Yuusdrail, I no longer need your services.  I know what you have been up to, TRAITOR!  Have your friends step in so they might witness what happens to one who betrays!”

Wodyn charged into the small room.  Alton, Olgar, and Belarn followed, stopping at the doorway.  The small cell was empty save for the splinters of furniture that had only recently been dismantled.  A man stood against the far wall, holding a sickle in one hand and the kobold in the other.  At first glance, he appeared naked, though without the “dangle bits,” as Yuusdrail put it.  On closer inspection, his skin appeared to have additional eyes and mouths all over it.  _Human skin armor,_ Olgar observed, _how revoltin’!  _

The man had the kobold by the throat.  Wodyn was threatening him with his greataxe.

“Before you strike, let me make an offer,” the man smoothly continued.  “What we search for is one and the same.  I am a priest of Moloch.  He did not make this temple, nor did any of the gods you worship.  It is much older.”

Olgar rolled his eyes.  _Evil villain speech ™, how long do we ha’ ta’ listen?  Smack ‘im, Wodyn, ‘n I’ll kill th’ kobold._

The priest continued. “I am looking for an object hidden here in the temple.  I hired these kobolds,” he glared at Yuusdrail, ‘to assist me and ensure I was not disturbed.  Obviously, they failed.  And the penalty for failure is death.  Since I’m out the kobolds, I’ll extend the same offer to you.  The knowledge can do you little good, and I’m not interested in the local area, so you have nothing to lose.  In fact, in a manner of trade, I’ll offer you this weapon,” he waved the sickle about, “plus a useful potion, for the life of this kobold.”

_Not a bad offer,_ Olgar thought, _prolly bust as many heads fer him as wi’ thi’ bunch._

“What about the farmer and his family?” Alton countered.

“The farmer was gone and his family murdered when I arrived,” the priest replied.  “I just put them to use.”  He gestured at his armor.

“I don’t believe you,” Wodyn replied.

“My dear barbarian,” the priest responded, “I don’t care if you believe me or not.  Certainly my offer is better that whatever this – creature – can offer you.”

Olgar made up his mind.  The priest had a good deal, and this one was even better.  “Aye, then, sir, we’ll takes ye’ up on yer offer,” – Alton looked shocked – “an’ we’ll takes the magic items – from your dead body!”

Olgar and Alton began casting spells, as did the snarling priest.  A glowing badger appeared next to the man, which bit at his heels and disappeared.  A glowing nimbus of blue armor surrounded Alton.  Belarn fired an arrow harmlessly at the man.  Yuusdrail smacked at him with her quarterstaff, ineffectually.

Wodyn just flexed his muscles, and beheaded him with his axe.

“Kind o’ anti-clima’tic, would’n ye say? “ Olgar asked the big man, once the priest’s body dropped.  Wodyn just shrugged.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 9, 2002)

*Chpt 1, finis.*

Alton and Belarn began searching the body and the surrounding room.  They had the man’s sickle, the disgusting armor, and some coin.  In addition, they found a potion and some robes that both Alton and Olgar concurred were magical.  Belarn found a secret compartment under a rock in the floor that contained two books.  He hauled them out, then handed them to Alton and Olgar.

One was obviously ancient.  It had a palpable evil smell and texture to it.  It was covered in similar runes to those in the temple, the kind that writhed and swam in front of the eyes.  Alton opened it, and pronounced it undecipherable.

The second book was much more recent.  It had the look and feel of a diary, though it had a similar evil feel to it.  The covers looked to be human skin.  Olgar opened it.  The text was indecipherable, but Olgar got the same mind-wrenching feeling from it that he had when he defiled the altar.  He slammed the book closed.

“Bad stuff.  Let’s head back, see if’n th’ reward’ll pay out.  Bet th’ ha’seeds dinna know they had an’ evil temple t’ some old god ‘n their midst.”  The others swiftly agreed.

The party returned to the surface, bypassing the remaining doors, and swiftly headed back to town, after making arrangements with the kobold tribe to leave the humans alone.  Yuusdrail did the bargaining, in exchange for a bit of gold, and the kobolds readily agreed.

Leaving the kobolds outside of town, the four heroes returned to the town square.  They marched into the mayor’s office, and presented the evidence.

“You had an evil temple under that farm.” Alton said, “We killed a priest of Moloch who was using the place.  There’s no sign of the farmer, but his family was murdered and reanimated as skeletons.  We’ve got some evil artifacts from the place that need to be checked out.  How about our reward?”

“You didn’t accomplish your task,” the mayor replied, “find the farmer, and you’ll get your reward.”

“How about this, you’re honor,” Wodyn said, waving the flayed human skin armor in front of her, “think putting a stop to this is worth your gold?”

The woman shrieked in horror at the sight of the skin, and began calling for guards.  Wodyn yelled “Be Silent!” drawing himself up to his full six-and-a-half foot height.  He stuffed the skin back into his pack, and the woman shut up.

“Fine,” she said, “we’ll pay your reward for services rendered.  We do have another opportunity for you, if you wish.”

“And that would be?” Alton asked

“The hamlet just to our south is about to bring in their cranberry harvest.  We’re expecting a major storm to hit in the next three days, and would like you to ensure that the harvest is protected.”

The four just looked at her incredulously.  “Are ye daft, woman?” Olgar asked, “ye want us t’ stop a storm?  If’n I ha’ a hunnert o’ me kinsman, an’ three month an’ a quarry, I might could do summat, but in three days …”

“Sorry, no thanks,” Alton said smoothly.  “We’ve got some artifacts to check out.  We’ll let you know if we find your farmer.” And with that, the four turned and left.

Once outside, they conferred.  “We still have this treasure to split up,” Wodyn said.

“Aye, split the coin,” Olgar agreed, “but we’ll at least stick t’gether to get the magic identified an’ then split it up.  I thinks we could find a temple t’ Kraig.  I gots some atonin’ t’ do, and fer the right favor, we mights find out a bit about th’ books.  Church o’ Moloch be up t’ no good, I’m sure, an’ I’d be glad t’ help meself t’ a bit o’ their booty.”  He smiled crustily.  _An’ Kraig be praised if’n there ain’ a big fight in it!_

TO BE CONTINUED …


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 10, 2002)

Heh.  The DM here.  Yes, it was quite an adventure and now that "olgar" here has posted on the website ... hes now indebted to do this bi weekly (but for the next couple of weeks it will be weekly *snickers*).

If anyone has any questions, i will be more than glad to answer them.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 15, 2002)

*Chapter 2*

CHAPTER 2: Strange doings in Aerolite City

The party set out the next morning for Aerolite City, the nearest town of any size that boasted a Temple of Kraig, two days by foot from Aurora Falls.  Alton had a private spirit quest to undertake that would cost him several days of meditating and fasting; he would rejoin the rest of the group in a week at the city.  Olgar, Wodyn, Belarn, and Yuusdrail would make the trek.


A group of six companions trudged down foggy, cobblestone streets.  Olgar, disoriented, didn’t recognize either the human or elf who were traveling with them, but they both seemed somewhat familiar.  Nor could he readily identify the streets on which he walked, but there was a certain familiarity with them, too.

Wodyn stopped, suddenly, motioning for silence.

“I heard something,” he said, “that way.”  The tall barbarian pointed down a dark alleyway, too dark for human eyes to make out any details.

“Olgar, what do you see?” he asked.

Olgar stepped forward and into the alleyway, squinting to make out forms in the darkness with his dwarven sight.  There was nothing – but then, he caught a twinkle out of the corner of his eye, and he turned just in time to see a blade begin to flash toward him. 

His feet felt like they were set in blocks of stone.  He tried to twist away – too slowly.  He felt a blade slash lightly across his throat, felt hot blood soaking down behind his armor, and then all went dark.


----------



## diaglo (Jul 15, 2002)

Great works. Keep it up.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 16, 2002)

*Ch 2, cont.*

Olgar awoke in a sweat.  _What an ‘orrible nightmare!_ he thought,_ it was so real.  A vision from Kraig? _ It the middle of the night, and the party was camped in a small grove just off the main road, still a day’s march out of Aerolite City.

“Wodyn, wake up!” Olgar called.  “I jus’ had a vision!”  He kicked the halfling and kobold awake, and related the vision excitedly as the others stared at him groggily.  

“That no nightmare.  That dream,” the kobold said dismissively, and rolled over and went back to sleep.  

_Alton would’a understood it, bloody kobold wench._  Olgar shrugged, and went back to sleep himself, haunted by dreams of an ambush in a cobblestone alleyway.


The group arrived on the outskirts of Aerolite City two mornings later without incident.  Aerolite City was a city in name only; it had the appearance of a large but prosperous town of about 2,000 souls.  The buildings were stone, packed closely together, and the streets were cobbled.  

_Streets’re oddly familiar,_ Olgar thought, and then dismissed the thought.  He had a temple to find.

A rapidly growing tent city was being erected just outside the city gate.  As the adventurers passed by, they overheard a great deal of talk about an upcoming bardic competition, scheduled to be held that very evening.  Many of the locals seemed quite agitated about it – something about a murder or murders in town.

Olgar approached one of the locals who was jabbering away excitedly about the recent murders, and asked for directions to the temple of Kraig.

“South end of town,” the local woman replied.  “Are ye sure you want to go there.  Don’t think the two little one’s’ll survive!” This last was said as she waved at the halfling and kobold.

“Aye, yes!” Olgar replied with a broad grin, and the group set off for the south end of town.

As they walked, the halfling asked curiously, “So, did you hear them talking about the murder in town?”

“Local problem,” Olgar growled, “none o’ our business.  We gots our own work t’ do, get’n me head fixed ‘n all, ‘n th’ items we looted off’n that priest o’ Moloch figg’red out.  No need t’ go stickin’ our noses inta som’n else’s business.”

The group halted outside a large building that appeared to be a tavern.  A sign out from read “The Prancing Alehouse” and depicted a bar stool zipping through the air.  The human and halfling looked at each other, then back at the building.  Olgar was already making his way up the steps.  The halfling followed a few feet behind him.

Olgar ducked as he pushed the front doors open, allowing the chair that came tumbling through the opening to pass safely over his head.  The flying furniture knocked the halfling flat, sending him sprawling back down the steps.  

Inside the building, a full-fledged bar brawl appeared to be in session.  Insults, catcalls, mugs, and bits of tables and chairs flew back and forth across the room.  A number of dwarves in armor seemed to be hitting each other with various bits of the furniture.  A tall human was breaking a chair over the head of a female dwarf who was carrying two pitchers of ale.  In one corner, a group of feral-looking elves dressed in loincloths were cutting at each other with small daggers.  In another was the only quiet soul in the place, a colorfully-dressed dwarf with a lute at one side, who was scribbling on a piece of parchment between smacking the occasional bystander with his instrument.  Even the dwarven bartender was throwing empty bottles at his patrons.  It was a scene of total chaos.

“Ah, home!” Olgar sighed, and with a grin he pushed his way into the throng, dropping one dwarf who stepped into his path with a stiff arm to the forehead.  “Ale fer me ‘n me companions!” he shouted to the bartender over the din, “an’ kin ye point me t’ th’ high priest?”

“Yer talking t’him,” the bartender replied, “An’ what’s so important ye must interrupt me at vespers?”

“Aye, yer worship,” Olgar replied, “I know it be the pratyt hour ‘n all, and we should be celebrat’n Kraig wi’ a bit o’ destruction an’ comradely warriorship, but we ha’ urgent business.  We run afoul o’ an evil temple, an’ it did this t’ me,” pointing at his recently acquired brow ridges, “a devoted chaplain o’ Kraig.”

“I see,” the high priest/bartender replied, “I’ll give ye a moment t’ explain it.  Are they with ye?” he asked, pointing at the others, who were trying to avoid being brained by flying bits of furniture.

“Aye,” Olgar replied, “’r t’least we’re travell’n in t’ same direction fer now.”

“Very well, follow me.”

The priest led them back down a long hallway lined with doors on either side.  Far from the din of the common room, he opened the door to a large office and ushered them inside.  The room was plain – spartan, even – but held one object of great interest.  A greatsword, burning brightly with crimson flames, hung point down behind the desk.

Olgar made the sign of the fist, holy symbol of Kraig, and nodded toward the sword, symbol of “Kraig’s Blessing.”  He then took a seat with the others, as the old dwarf sat behind the desk, pulling out a set of glasses, demeanor completely changed from the wild man who had been throwing bottles across the bar a few moments earlier.

“All, right, tell me yer story,” he said.

Olgar motioned to Wodyn, who related their story at great length, passing the items they had discovered in the hidden temple across the desk one at a time.

“We was hopin’ ye might be able t’ tell us what they are, ye worship, and help me atone fer th’ curse ‘r some such as well,” Olgar said, as Wodyn finished relating the story.

The old man considered for a long while, examining each of the objects in turn.

“I can tell you some, but not much,” the dwarf finally continued.  “There is a name scribed here on the wand ‘Neiltar Nomasday,’ but what the wand does I cannot tell you, nor the other items.  This book with the strange writing deals with an ancient purification ritual, though I can tell you little else.  Find a library or temple of knowledge for that.  There are temples to Moloch, Veriday, Obi, and Jewel in town that might tell you more.  This other book appears to be a diary.  It is written in a language that is familiar, but I cannot quite place it.  Give me a day or two, and I might be able to translate it for you.  As for yer atonement, I am but a humble priest, and granting that is far beyond my abilities.  You will have to travel to Aphis, Averna, or Oerid for that.”

_Bloody useless,_ Olgar thought.  The group collected up the majority of the items, leaving the diary with the priest.

“Ken we stay a few days?” Olgar asked, as they prepared to return to the common room.

“Of course, fer one of the faith.  But yer friends will of course have to provide a suitable donation,” the old dwarf said reverently.  The others reluctantly handed over a few coins each.  “See me again in two days, an’ with luck I’ll have the book translated for ye.”

The party departed.  Olgar decided it was time to pay his respects to Kraig, and joined the brawl in the common room.  Soon he was happily throwing chairs and turning over tables with the rest of the dwarven acolytes.  Wodyn leaned against one wall, taking in the scene, while Belarn dodged kicks and punches and went to hide in the corner.  Soon he was in conversation with the dwarven minstrel.  Between blows to the head, Olgar noticed Yuusdrail slinking back out through the front door, cloak pulled down over her head and tail.

_Could pass fer an ugly peck under tha’ cloak, _Olgar thought, _good riddance an’ hope ye never return._


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 17, 2002)

*Chpt 2, cont.*

While Olgar was busy brawling, he observed an elf approaching the doorway.  The elf was dressed as a woodsman, with a cloak pulled up about his head , though not far enough to completely hide his white hair and piercing blue eyes.  The hilt of a scimitar protruded from his beltline.

_If he’s got two o’ them things,_ Olgar thought to himself,_ I’m givin’ up adventurin’._  He figured he’d give the elf a little test, and threw the nearest chair at his head.  The elf wasn’t quite quick enough, and was knocked sprawling back down the stairs.

“Serves ye right, ye pansy!” Olgar shouted after him.

The elf returned a few moments later, shaking off the effects of Olgar’s welcome, and found a seat with Belarn at one of the only remaining intact tables in the room.

Yuusdrail returned a few minutes later, dragging a human in brightly colored robes behind her.  _Bloody peacock, _Olgar thought. _ Wonder what the slimy git is up to._  He threw a mug at the kobold, but missed.  Yuusdrail took the man to the halfling’s table aas well, and tooks a seat.

A series of bells rang, signaling the end of morning vespers.  The commotion in the common room died away, with most of the patrons calmly going to their seat to enjoy their evening meals.  Olgar went to join his companions at their table and find out who the two newcomers were.

“Aye, nothin’ like a good brawl t’ get th’ spirit a burnin’ in ye,” Olgar said happily, and plopped down on the one remaining unbroken chair at the table.  He teetered drunkenly and leered at the human and strange elf.  Both seemed oddly familiar to him.  “”Ew ‘re ye, an’ what’re ye doin’ ‘ere?” he asked.

“Name’s Streith,” the elf replied.  “I’m not sure why I’m here, or even if I’m in the right place.  I had a vision of a great flaming sword, and all those I asked directed me here.”

“Well, ye come t’ th’ right place, pansy,” Olgar replied.  “This ‘ere’s th’ temple o’ Kraig, an’ his weapon’s a great flamin’ sword.  So yer ‘ere.  Now what?”  The elf just shrugged, so Olgar turned on the robed human.  “An’ what’er ye doin’, peacock?”

“Yuusdrail here hired me to identify some magic items for you,” the man replied, “I’m here under her contract.”

“Aye that’d prove useful, peacock,” Olgar replied, “if’n yer up t’ it.  Wha’ makes ye think so?”

The man said nothing in response, but instead stood, and grabbing the remains of a broken chair beside him, smashed Olgar across the helmet.

“Aye, then,” Olgar responded when the ringing in his ears finally stopped, “ye’ll be alright.  Name’s Olgar Shiverstone, glad t’ know ye.”  He clasped hands with the man warmly.

“Nelum,” the man stated,” now let’s see those items.”

“Jus’ a sec,” Olgar responded, “ ha’ we met?  Ye look familiar.”  The man was strangely familiar, as familiar as the elf.  The man shook his head.  Suddenly it struck Olgar.  “Ye two ‘re the ones from me vision! “  He explained the dream he had had two nights before.  “I don’ know wha’ it means, but ye’re stayin’ wi’ us until I finds out!  Wodyn, give ‘em th’ stuff!”

Wodyn passed the lot across the table without a word, glancing about to see if anyone else in the common room had nothiced.  Nelum’s eyes went wide, and he mumbled a few arcane words to himself , and then concentrated on the items briefly.

“I can probably make out a few of these things,” he said after a moment, “but it will take me at least eight hours per item, and cost you 150 gold per.”

“Well, get started,” Wodyn responded, “we’ll go do some exploring in the meantime.”

“What should I start with?” the mage asked, as the other rose to depart.

“Wand,” the kobold replied, “Yuusdrail pay.”

“It’ll be ready about six this evening,” Nelum said, as the others departed.

“Where to?” Olgar asked, as the group gathered outside the building.

“Shopping,” Wodyn replied cryptically.

They headed to the center of town, Belarn explaining that he had been speaking to a dwarven bard about the bardic competition and the series of murders in the town.  The bardic competition was the center of the town's attention, and was scheduled to start in the town square about five that evening.  Many of the townsfolk seemed to think it would not go off, as several of the performers had been murdered.  Kelly McGrath and Irene Mulaney were their names.

“Don’ see what tha’ has t’ do wi’ us,” Olgar said, shaking his head.  “We ha’ our own problems.  Leave I’ t’ th’ watch.  An’ pansy there, he don’ look t’ interested neither.”  The elf had accompanied them, saying nothing.

Near the town square, the adventurers came across a large gathering of locals.  From the whispered murmur, it seemed there had been another murdur.  Belarn and the elf, Streith, slipped away to try and get a better look, while Olgar simply stamped his feet impatiently.  _Waste o’ bloody time; go join th’ watch if’n ye wants t’ play do-gooder detective._

The two returned shortly.  “A young girl was killed, “ Belarn related, “heart ripped out.  Her name was Lydia Ferrier.  A local, I think.  Came in from an outlying farm to see the show.  Odd – the dwarf said that the other girls had also had body parts removed.”

“Well, watch’s got it in hand,” Olgar said dismissively.  “Let’s be off then.”

They strolled onward, the crowd thinning to nothing.  Olgar heard a faint tinkling of chimes, and halted, looking around.  Wodyn stopped as well.

“I heard something,” the big man said, “and felt something, too.  Can’t place it.”

Olgar shrugged, and was about to move onward, when from a few feet ahead of them Belarn suddenly turned, a feral gleam in his eye.

“I’m tired of always being picked on!” he shouted, and threw a dagger that planted itself in Olgar’s side.”  Olgar gasped painfully, but the adrenaline began to build, and he whipped his sword from off his shoulder.

“Aye, runt, ye’ll finally get what ye deserve!” he said, advancing.

Wodyn got there first.  Stepping forward quickly, he pulled out his axe and bopped Belarn over the head with the butt of it.  The halfling collapsed like a sack of potatoes.  Then the big man shuddered again.

“Something just tried to push into my mind!” he cried in horror.

_Mind leech,_ Olgar thought,_ or worse. _ Reaching for his deepest faith, he channeled as much positive energy as he could muster.  “Be Kraig, out wi’ ye!” he shouted, holding aloft his clenched fist.

The translucent figure of a waspish girl manifested itself out of this air.  The figure bled incorporeal blood from a gaping wound in its chest, and where its heart should have been beat a large purple crystal.

Wodyn and Streith sprang forward, swinging their weapons.  The figure began to dissolve, whispering a few words in a strange tongue before disappearing.

“That was the girl whose body is in the street back there,” Streith said in horror,  “I recognized he face.  The words are elvish.  She said: ‘The clues to our killer are in our names.’ “

“Aye, but what’s that mean?” Olgar said.  He had healed his wound, but was still out of breath and quite irritable.  If the halfling was possessed by a spirit, he wasn’t responsible for the attack.  Olgar resolved to keep the dagger, just in case.

Wodyn was reviving the stunned halfling.  “What happened?” Belarn asked, “and why do I have a lump on my head?”


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 17, 2002)

As the DM Let me note that most of the party is indeed chaotic but i do actually have plans for these visions!


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 17, 2002)

*Chpt 2, cont.*

Olgar was busy nursing a grudge, so Wodyn explained the most recent events.  “So the girls murdered, in order, were named Kelly, Irene, and Lydia?” Belarn asked for confirmation.

Wodyn smiled.  “Sounds like someone twisted IS sending a message. The first word is probably KILL.”

“Aye, an’ the next word’ll be Belarn, if’n we don’ get about our own business!” Olgar insisted.  “Would ye bloody let it drop?  We’re not makin’ any gold pokin’ ‘r noses in other folks’ problems!”

“You’re just mad because your head’s all swelled up!” Belarn retorted. “I think we should help!”

“Ye would, runt!  An’ if’n ye do, I’ll give ye enough lumps t’ match me head!”

The group strolled onward, evil spirits temporarily banished.  They came to the town square, where the pavilion was set up for the evening’s performances.  A few performers, and a large crowd, arrived early.  One young half-elven bard was signing autographs by the stage, surrounded by a large group of giggling teenage girls and one gangly young man who appeared to be flirting with the bard.

_Yech,_ Olgar thought.  _More poetry spouting pansies.  Need a good brawl here, they do._

Some of the crowd was just as interesting.  One bystander, a scrawny man with a tufting, scraggly goatee, had carved himself a large area in one corner of the pavilion.  Bet the locals’ gave ‘em the room outta respect fer tha; furball ‘n not ‘im, Olgar thought.  The man had a druidic air about him – staff, woodsy outfit, all-natural fibers.  Or maybe it was the gigantic white tiger that lay beside him.

Wodyn walked up and looked the tiger in the eye.  _Bloody nature lovers._ Olgar remained out of earshot, but he could see Wodyn get into a discussion with the druid that rapidly became heated.  The druid and his tiger stormed off in a huff.

Wodyn returned.  “Little disagreement about the natural order of things, nothing important,” he said, “nice tiger, though.”

“Bloody nature lover.  Let’s go.  I ha’ enough culture ‘n festin’ fer today.”

The adventurers finally reached a small cluster of shops, where they split up to follow their own interests.  Olgar, after discovering with disgust that the local master smith was a halfling of all things, decided to follow Wodyn.  After an entirely too long discussion with some shopkeeper about the merits of votive candles – _who’d a’ thought th’ man wi’ the big axe had a thing fer colored ‘n scented candles_ – Olgar went and waited outside until the rest of the group finished purchasing supplies.  Together they began to walk back toward the Temple of Kraig.

They were passing the Temple of Moloch – obvious in its red and black theme, evil looking gargoyles staring down from the cornices – when they came across another row.  A man in black and red priest robes was arguing with one of the local constables and his patrol.  The guards, it seemed, were going to arrest old Father Jebediah Maeyi of Moloch for the murder of a young girl, one Lydia Ferrier.

Olgar was going to continue on –_ hang the dark priest _– but Wodyn just had to get involved.

“What’s going on here?” Wodyn asked.

The constable filled him in on his suspicions.  “Utter nonsense,” the dark priest replied, “They distrust us because we serve Moloch, but we have done nothing wrong!”

Wodyn turned to the constable.  “What evidence do you have linking this priest to the crime?”

“Well … none,” the constable admitted.  “But everyone knows they did it.  They serve Moloch.  There’s been trouble before.  We’ve just never been able to catch them at it.  I’m taking him in, so it doesn’t happen again!”

“Wait a minute,” Wodyn replied, “nothing you’ve said has convinced me.  What sort of trouble was there before?”

“Uh …” the constable admitted sheepishly, “there hasn’t been anything since the new priest here arrived.  But there were all kinds of odd happenings under the old priest!”

The priest of Moloch spoke up.  “I freely admit that there may have been difficulty under Father Nomasday.  He was … odd.  Luckily, he disappeared some weeks ago.  I am in charge now, and I assure you nothing of the sort will happen.  We want to be respected members of the community!”  He turned to Wodyn.  “You look like an honest sort.  I would be willing to pay you to clear my church’s name!”

Wodyn and Belarn both looked uneasy at the prospect.  “Wodyn, conference,” Olgar called, and the party huddled away from the constable and priest.

“Nomasday’s the name o’ the priest we offed back in Aurora Falls,” Olgar explained.  “So if he were th’ evil one, well, more evil tha’ this lot, anyway, i’s likely tha’ this here evil priest is telling the truth.  His gold’s as good as any.  If’n ye want to uphold some justice, why not clear ‘em?”

Wodyn nodded.  He turned back to the constable.  “Since you really have no evidence to take this man in, would you be willing to allow us to investigate this matter and see if we can find who is responsible?”

The constable considered, then nodded.  “Right.  You’re working for Aerolite City in this.  Bring me any evidence you might find.”  He took his patrol and departed.

Wodyn turned back to the priest of Moloch.  “So, what’s it worth to you if we clear you?” he asked.

The priest considered a moment, looking the group over.  “How about …  300 gold each, except for the dwarf.  I think I can cure his little … problem.”  This with a wicked grin.

“Sold, yer worship!” Olgar piped up. “Ye hired ye’self some detectives!  Jus’ make sure ye can lift me little curse!”

The party departed and the priest went back into his temple.  Just around the corner, Wodyn and Streith broke into a dead run down an alleyway, rapidly leaving Olgar, Belarn, and Yuusdrail behind.

“What was that all about?” Belarn asked.  Olgar shrugged.  He and the halfling continued back to the Temple of Kraig.  They didn’t notice that Yuusdrail remained behind in the alley.

Nelum was still working on his identification spell when Olgar and Belarn returned to the temple, so the two went down and cooled their throats for a while in the common room.  Two hours passed, and Streith and Wodyn finally returned.  Wodyn has Yuusdrail tucked under one arm.

“Where’ve ye been?” Olgar demanded.  “An’ why’d ye go runnin’ off like that?”

“Yuusdrail got arrested,” Wodyn replied.  “There was another murder, and they found her standing over the body.”

”An’ ye bailed ‘er out? “ Olgar shouted, “Are ye daft man? She’s a bloody Kobold!  She probably DID kill ‘er!”

“Yussdrail no kill.  Man already dead,” the kobold offered.  Olgar looked incredulous.  _Aye, coulda been rid o’ that runt lizard-dog, an’ the fool bails ‘er out!_

“The victim was a man this time,” Streith explained, “in fact, the boy we saw mooning at that half-eleven bard earlier today.  Name was Lander Heartson.  The guard found the body in an alley, with Yuusdrail standing over it.  It was the same alley that a little while before, Wodyn and I saw that same bard talking to a peasant.  They bolted when they saw us, so we tried to chase them down, but lost them.”

“Now we’ve got KILL,” Belarn said.

“Aye, next two victims’ll probably spell ME,” Olgar replied with a sneer.  “So ye think the bard’s behind all this?”

“Makes sense,” Wodyn said.  “He was near the sight of the last body.  He had access to the other victims through the competition.  And we saw him not two hours before with the last victim.  He’s connected somehow.”

“So wha’s next?” Olgar aked pointedly.

“We question him.  He’ll definitely be at the performance tonight.  We just have to slip back stage.”

“An’ how ye propose we do tha’?  We’re all not exactly inconspicuous!”

Wodyn grinned slyly, then looked over at the dwarven bard who was sitting in the opposite corner of the room.  “I think we can come up with something.  We’d better hurry; the competition starts soon.”

Olgar followed his gaze.  “Not on yer life, man!  I ain’t gonna!”

An exchange of some coins and an hour later, Olgar was trussed up like a perfumed fop, point man for their backstage infiltration.  A little of Wodyn’s gold had smoothed over his protests, with the hope that the disguise was good enough that no one would recognize him.  His greatsword was camouflaged to look like a lute strung across his back.

The party formed up and was preparing to leave for the town square when there was a commotion in the street outside.  They quickly ran to see what was happening.

Out in front of the temple of Kraig, a huge white tiger was mauling a frightened, robed man.  It was the same animal they had seen earlier, but the scrawny druid was nowhere in sight.  Wodyn drew his axe and ran to assist the man.  One swing of the axe, and the tiger was knocked unconscious to the street.  Wodyn checked the animal, then helped the man to his feet.

“That you so much,” the man began breathlessly, “You’ve saved me from that awful beast.  I’m Edgar Mayfield.  The creature is a menace.  I insist you destroy it!”

Wodyn shook his head.  “You’re safe now, and it won’t hurt anything.  We’ll see it gets properly confined.”

“No!” the man insisted, “You must kill it!  It’s sick!  It serves an evil druid, who worships an evil god of disease and decay.  The man infected it with a disease!  Kill it before it attacks someone else!”

Wodyn raised an eyebrow, but turned to examine the beast.  Streith walked over and examined the creature as well.  _Another nature lover, _Olgar observed._  Can’t stay focused on the task at hand._

“There does appear to be some foam about his mouth, and other symptoms,” Wodyn reluctantly agreed.  “It could be rabid.”  Streith nodded in agreement.  

“You’ll kill it then?” the man asked.

“No,” Wodyn replied, “but we’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

The man began to protest, then shut his mouth and scuttled off.  The scrawny druid was approaching.

“Brandon!” the druid exclaimed, when he came upon the body of the unconscious tiger.  _Brandon?_  Olgar thought. _ Odd name fer an overgrown kitty.  ‘Course, the god o’ th’ paladins is named Ryan.  Twouldn’t put it past a nature lover._

“Give him back to me, you’ve hurt him!” the druid demanded of Wodyn.  The scrawny man’s lower lip extended in a pout, and he seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“The cat is fine,” Wodyn replied calmly, “I just knocked it out.  It attacked an innocent man unprovoked.  It looks as if it may be rabid.  I’m going to see that it gets quarantined.”

“No you won’t!” the druid replied, “he wouldn’t do anything like that!  He must have been provoked.  The man was probably evil!  Now give him to me!”

“No,” Wodyn insisted calmly, “we’re going to take care of the animal.  Now stand aside.”

“No, I won’t let you, he was provoked I tell you!” the little man was hopping up and down now.  Wodyn just shook his head sadly.  “I’ll stop you!”

The druid stepped back, and made some strange motions toward the ground around the party.  In a flash, weeds and small plants sprang up from between the cobblestones, wrapping around the adventurers feet and legs.  The man grabbed the tiger and began to run away, dragging the cat behind him.

Olgar attempted to throw a spell to delay the man, but the grasping plants interfered with his movements and prevented him.  Streith broke free of the plants, readying a hand axe in case the druid threw another spell.  Wodyn also broke free, and charged ahead to the man.

The druid stepped back out of Wodyn’s reach, mumbled a charm, and reached down and touched the tiger.  The creature roared back to consciousness, turning on Wodyn and roaring at him.

Wodyn shook his head sadly, and struck the creature, again using the flat of his axe.  The blow was far too strong, though, for the creature collapsed, dead, blood running from its mouth and ears.  

The druid burst into tears, and bent to retrieve the body of the animal.  As he did so, the body shifted and shimmered, transforming into the form of a young man.  The druid hoisted the body over his shoulder and ran off without another word.

Wodyn walked back with a pained expression.

“Wha’ was tha’ all about?  Think that’s our murderer?” Olgar asked.

“Dunno,” Wodyn replied. “Could have been a weretiger – maybe a pair of them – could have been some victim that the druid polymorphed into animal form.  Hard to say who was telling the truth.  Cat definitely looked rabid, though. ”  He shrugged.  “Nothing we can do now.  Let’s be off, then.”

_Aye, just as likely some homoerotic love triangle,_ Olgar thought,_ best be getting’ back to business.  We’ve a murd’rer t’ catch ‘n some gold t’ earn!_


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 18, 2002)

*Chpt 2, cont.*

Nelum came out of the building at that point.  “I’m finished!” he announced, slipping something to Yuusdrail.

“An what’d ye find, peacock?” Olgar growled.

“Well, I was contracted by Yuusdrail, so I really shouldn’t …” Nelum began, but Olgar cut him off.

“They was our items!  Th’ kobold don’ own none o’ it!” Olgar’s fist clenched.

“ …wand of cure light wounds.” Nelum finished.

“Yuusdrail keep.  Yuusdrail pay, Yuusdrail keep.” The kobold piped up.

“Fine.” Olgar shrugged. _Wench can’t use it anyway._

“If dwarf pay, dwarf can use,” Yuusdrail offered.

Olgar had been edging closer.  “Here’s your payment,” he said, grabbing the kobold, and tossing her through the front window of the building.

Yuusdrail staggered back out a few moments later, shaking the glass from her scales.  “Mean dwarf not get wand now!”

Olgar just laughed.  _Was worth it for that little bit o’ abuse._

The party moved on, arriving at the pavilion in the town square, which was packed to standing room only.  A woman was selling tickets at the gate, and demanded five coins per to enter.  Olgar decided to take advantage of his perfumed foppery.

“I’m performin’.  No need t’ pay.  These here’re me assistants.  Roadies ‘n such.”

The woman looked skeptical.  “What’s your name?” she asked, consulting a roll of parchment.

“Uh … er …”  

“Rowaldo,” Wodyn offered helpfully.

“Five gold, please,” the woman responded.  Grumbling, the group paid the fee.

They had little trouble weaving their way through the crowds, and made their way up to the backstage entrance.  Wodyn and Streith went to canvass the crowd, in case the half-elven bard was out there or made an appearance on stage.  Olgar, Belarn, and Nelum went backstage.  Olgar’s little nod toward foppery had apparently paid off – they gto backstage without a problem.  The half elf was just strolling out on stage as they entered.  The three adventurers took up positions by the stage exit, pretending to be observing the performance, but ready to grab the man once he returned.

The crowd applauded appreciatively as the bard appeared, and he gave what was probably a virtuoso performance, if you enjoyed the sounds of slaughtering cats.  Apparently the crowd did, as he gave several encores before returning back stage.  Olgar and Belarn quickly backed the man into a corner, aided by the timely arrival of Streith and Wodyn.

“Ye’ve got some answering t’ do,” Olgar growled.

“I don’t do autographs until later …” the man began.

“You were seen at the scene of a crime,” Wodyn interrupted.  “A young man, who we saw you talking to earlier today, was found dead at the scene.  And I chased you halfway across town.  You’re coming with us.  You have some explaining to do.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort!  I was entertaining in a tavern all day today.  I’ll give you the name – ask them!” the bard protested.  He seemed sincere.

“You knew the victim.  He had taken quite an interest in you.  Perhaps you didn’t like the attention?” Wodyn prodded.

“I have many fans, and I love their attention.  Check my story.  You’ve no reason to hold me.  I’m not leaving town.”

Olgar had stepped back and was mumbling a brief prayer.  He could detect the emanations of magic from the man’s clothing – a set of earrings, his cloak, and a set of pipes all radiated strongly.  He could detect some abjuration and conjuration magicks, but nothing that made him suspicious.

“He’s clean,” Olgar whispered to Wodyn.  

Rather than make a scene, they elected to let the man go.  Dejected, they strolled through back alleys.

“Wha’ now?” Olgar asked.  Wodyn and the others only shrugged.  They were out of leads.

Suddenly, a scream sounded from an alleyway ahead, and the group charged forward.  Rounding a corner, they could see a dark form with a dagger grappling with a yound woman.  Approaching closer, they could see that it was the half-elven bard with whom they had just spoken.  Noticing their approach, the man pulled the girl in front of him, dagger to her throat.

“Come no closer, or she dies!” he threatened.

Streith was already winding up, and let fly with a throwing axe.  The throw was straight and true, right into the girl’s mid-section.  She dropped, leaving the man exposed.

“Oops …” Streith muttered, as Wodyn charged forward.  Belarn loosed an arrow, and Olgar a crossbow bolt, but after a bit of posturing, axe versus dagger, Wodyn dropped the bard to the street.

“Get up here and heal this girl, before she dies!” Wodyn shouted at the dwarf.

“I ain’t no walkin’ first aid kit!  Ask the kobold.  Got no healin’ spells prepared anyway,” Olgar responded indignantly.

Yussdrail waved a wand about.  “Yuusdrail can’t use.”  Olgar gave her a smug look.

“She’s our only witness,” Wodyn cajoled.

“Fine,” Olgar said, “but ye owe me!”  He channeled some energy into the girl, closing her wound and restoring her to consciousness. 

As Wodyn comforted her, Olgar looted the half-elf’s body, pulling off his cloak, earrings, a set of pan pipes, and discovering a pouch full of gold coins and a small business card.  The card glowed purple, and read: “The Autumn Twilight – Your specialty store for arcane goods.”  Olgar handed the card to Nelum.

“I’m Melanie Baker,” the girl explained when she had recovered somewhat.  “I went to ask him for an autograph, and he attacked me!  He said he wanted my vocal cords!”

“There, there,” Wodyn said.  “You’re safe now.”  He stood her up, policing up the half-elf’s body.

“Let’s go t’ see the Moloch priest ‘n get our reward,” Olgar suggested.  Nelum, however, was already calling for the watch.  The guardsmen arrived, took their statements and the body, and escorted the girl back to her home.  

The party tried the priest anyway.  With some effort, they were able to convince him that the investigation had been dropped, and he paid their fee.  He also cast an incantation over Olgar.  Olgar felt dirty, but he could feel his brow ridges shrink, and his head return to normal size.  The group returned to the temple of Kraig.

“Now what?” Olgar asked.

“I think we should check out this magic shop,” Nelum said.  “I don’t think this is over.  But we should rest first.  I need to study my spells.”

“Aye,” Olgar agreed, “but I don’t need t’ study.  I need t’ pray.”

“Yuusdrail just special,” the kobold said to no one in particular.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 18, 2002)

*Chpt 2, finis.*

The next morning, after preparing spells and weapons, the group headed over to the shop called “The Autumn Twilight.”  It certainly could have been a magic shop.  It was a small cottage, with twisted decorations and odd signs and symbols painted on the door and façade of the house.  The place appeared deserted.

They headed up to the front door, Belarn and Wodyn leading.

“Wait,” Olgar said, casting his _detect magic_ spell.  He concentrated for a moment.  “Strange.  Nothin’ magical nearby tha’ I can detect, ‘cept wha’ we’re carryin’.  This place ain’ wha’ it seems.”

Armed with that knowledge, they entered.  The small front room was crowded with book shelves and display stands, covered with all manner of arcane tomes, implements, and knickknacks.  There was a small of incense, with something odder, nastier underlying it.  A passage at the rear led to a back room.

“Nothing magical,” Olgar repeated.

“Well, scout, go scout,” Wodyn motioned to the halfling.  Belarn snuck over to the passage to the back of the house, then stepped through it.

The rest heard a cackling laugh.  “You are too late to stop me!” cried a voice.

Belarn screamed.  Wodyn charged forward, followed closely by Streith.  Olgar said a brief prayer to Kraig, pulling a shield of divine faith about himself, then worked himself into a fury and followed Streith.

Wodyn stood in the doorway, battling a man in peasant garb who held a nasty looking sickle in one hand and a pulsating, purple-and-blue crystal staff in the other.  The man’s hair was unkempt, his eyes rolled wildly, and he cackled maniacally as he swung the sickle.

Wodyn was holding his own, though he had not yet landed a telling blow.  “It’s Farmer Ted!” he shouted -- the missing farmer from Aurora Falls.  Nelum launched a bolt of magic that wounded the man but otherwise had little effect.

Belarn was sitting in a corner, a slash wound on one arm.  He was drooling, and had a vacant expression in his eyes.  A Streith moved around Wodyn to attack, Belarn pushed open the back window of the small room and leapt out.

The wild man slashed at Streith, who couldn’t maneuver around Wodyn’s wild swings.  He took but a glancing blow, but his eyes went slack, all traces of intelligence leaving them.  He continued to swing his scimitar, though, if imperfectly.

Olgar also squeezed by Wodyn, and attempted to land a blow with his sword, only to have it deflected.  Farmer Ted returned the blow, and while Olgar was staggered, he retained his bearings.

The wild man began to cast some sort of spell, and all three fighting men took a swing at him.  Wodyn’s axe connected with telling force, just as the man winked out of existence.  He was gone, leaving nothing behind by whiff of ozone, and the stinking corpse of a woman in the far corner of the room.

“Did we get ‘im?” Olgar asked, but Wodyn only shrugged noncommittally.  The tall man went to examine the body in the corner.  Streith sat down, and began to drool.  Olgar joined Wodyn and Nelum at the corpse.

The body was oddly misshapen.  The woman’s skin was an unusual shade of pink, and there were strange puckerings around her mouth – like the nubs of small growths.  Cause of death was easy to determine – her brain had been removed, violently.  There were three large amethyst crystals in her robes, but nothing else.

“Look familiar to anyone?” Wodyn asked.  Olgar shook his head, but Nelum raised an eyebrow.

“Those nubs look like the beginnings of tentacles,” the wizard said, “which is impossible.  She looks like a human turning into something that exists only in faerie tales – a mind flayer.”

“Another mystery, then, with where Farmer Ted disappeared to,” Wodyn said.  He turned back to Streith.  Yuusdrail towed Belarn in – she had found him lurking outside the back window.  “What about these two?”

“Looks like their intelligence has been stolen from them,” Nelum said after a few minutes examination.  “That takes powerful magic, and ever more powerful magic to reverse.”

“Tha’ lets me out,” Olgar replied, “the temple o’Kraig couldn’t even lift me curse.  Likely there’s only one place local tha’ could do it – our friends a’ Moloch.”

Wodyn turned in disgust.  “You would do business with those evil priests again?  Who know what price they would demand!”

Nelum nodded.  “A spell that would correct this would be very expensive.  Do you have that kind of funds?”

“Nae,” Olgar shook his head, “but we ha’ these crystals.  They aren’t magic, but thy’re pretty good gemstones.  Maybe they’ll take ‘em in trade.  Better that, that t’ take these two droolin’ idjits with us a week’s travel t’ the next big city.  Devil ye know’s better’n the devil ye don’, after all.”

Lacking better options, the party took the three crystals, their idiots in tow, and headed once again to the church of Moloch.  The high priest was at first suspicious, but he turned positively giddy when offered the crystals.  He took Belarn and Streith inside, and returned after a bit, both of them apparently restored to normal.

An hour later, the party was back in the temple of Kraig, in the high preist’s office, rendering their report.

“Are ye daft, man?” the high priest shouted at Olgar.  “Who knows what kind of magic ye’ gave to the church of Moloch, if he was that happy to see it!”

“Well, yer worship, ye weren’t exactly too helpful, an’ though we think we solved the murders, we don’ know if’n that psycho escaped ‘r not, so we figgur’d we’d better have capable fighters on hand, instead o’ a couple o’ idjits.”

The priest shook his head, disgusted, then changed the subject.  “I’ve translated yer diary.  It was in a dwarven dialect of Undercommon – that’s why it looked familiar.  The dialect was last used by Clan Duergar.”

_Duergar! _ Olgar thought.  _As good a reason as any t’ have revenge on their stinkin’ hides.  Have t’ see where this leads!_  “What’d the diary say, yer worship?”

The old preist began to read:

“Weddingbirth 1st 
The dark times.  They come.  He tells me so.  They are coming back.  My wife and kids are growing suspicious of me.  She says that something has come over me.  I’m not like I used to be.  She doesn’t know.  I don’t remember a time before I discovered the temple.  I cant tell anyone or they will come and take him from me.  I cant let that happen.  He would be mad.  She still snoops around.  Something must be done.

Weddingbirth 13th 
I made dinner for my wife and kids tonight because he told me to.  They liked it.  They started throwing up my food.  That was very rude.  I guess the poison in the food didn’t agree with their stomachs.  Oh well.  Ill just let someone else clean up the mess.  I have to place my family in the cemetery.  I’ll blame it on a sickness going around.  No one will ever know.  I had to get rid of them.  They knew too much.

Weddingbirth 23rd 
I have breached the temple.  The smell of decay and time that history has forgotten smells and feels wonderful against my body.  I don’t know how it got to be under my house though.  It’s not my job to ask questions.  I found the old study to Zalli Your Op The Lid and I found the old book.  More later.

Weddingbirth  31st 
After reading the book, it all makes perfect sense.  I know what I must do.  I need to go off to the town of Aerolite.  She can help me.  The one the Master speaks of.  She will have my next set of instructions.”

The heroes looked at each other.  It seemed that this part of the mystery had clues they had yet to solve.


TO BE CONTINUED ….


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 19, 2002)

DMs Note

The farmer is named Old Man Gentry and the Dwarven Undercommon is not Dueruger.  Its a strange offset language that can be traced *THROUGH*Dueruger.

But close enough


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 19, 2002)

1.  We prefer to call him "Farmer Ted"

2.  It's spelled "DUERGAR"

3.  Whatever.


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 19, 2002)

i know what you guys call him.  Just explaining for the audience what his name is thats been known.  I think its cute you guys call him farmer ted.  How little our heros know ...


----------



## Piratecat (Jul 19, 2002)

Olgar, nice writing style!  Clear, fun, and easy to read - I like.

Do I see shades of Wulf Ratbane in the accent?


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 19, 2002)

Heh.  Actually thats why i like his character.  reminds me so much of Wulf Ratbane.  And i see how you are P-Kitty, dont even say anything about my DMing ... *sniffles*

But yeah, i love Glenns writing because its so great to read.  He really is a GREAT guy and its amazing how he can remember all the great quotes in game from like 3 days prior and still capture their true essence!


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 19, 2002)

(blushes, kicks at ground)

Aye, 'm humbled tha' PC read me story 'our, 'n compared me t' th' works o' th' master.

[shameless fanboy mode]

Been hangin' around Wulf's story 'our since 'e was a little dwarven tyke bashin' heads in th' Forge o' Fury, don'cha know.  Fin'ly worked up th' gumption t' post me own story 'our.

[/shameless fanboy mode]

B'sides, 'm inta th' dwarven Scot stereotype.  I even wears me kilt!  'Course, Kraig prefers th' greatsword t' th' axe, so's I had t' make a few ... accomodations.

Stay around -- more updates a' comin next week.


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 19, 2002)

Well glenn and i do love our Wulf.

*Next Time on In Search of Xaos*


After a week of relaxation and rest, the group gathers up to head out.  But what happens when four teenagers go missing and books on the infernal arts are found in their rooms.  Not to mention, one of the missing teenagers' ancestors was known in town for his traficking with daemons.  

What does the Church of Moloch have to say?  What help will they find with the Library of Obi?  What becomes of the lost druid?  And what happens to the kobold sorcerer?

Stay Tuned for "Fiends' Folly"


----------



## diaglo (Jul 22, 2002)

*Where's Chapter 3?*

When is the release of part 1 of Chapter 3 be posted?


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 22, 2002)

sometime today or tomorrow probably.  Its entitled "Bloodlines"


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 22, 2002)

Aye, keep yer shirts on. 'M not a slave t' th' keyboard, y'know.


----------



## Angelsboi (Jul 22, 2002)

What can i say Olgar.  You officially have a following now


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 22, 2002)

CHAPTER 3 – Son of Ted

The party stayed at the Temple of Kraig in Aerolite City for a relatively uneventful week.  Alton was still off on his spirit quest, and had not returned, and the group had decided to wait a while longer for him.  Streith mumbled something about a vision, and wandered off, vowing to return.  Belarn spent the week wandering about town, gathering information, and spying on a halfling-run bookshop in the market district.  Nelum spent most of his time in his room, mumbling incantations over the many yet-to-be identified magic items that they had recovered during their adventures.  Wodyn wandered about the woods, doing some hunting and communing with the squirrels.  Olgar spent a lot of time praying – brawling – in the common room, but did take time out to scribe a few scrolls that he had been meaning to work on.  He discovered that by the end of the week Kraig had favored him, and he could cast even greater divine incantations.

He was demonstrating his newly discovered _hold halfling_ spell to Belarn one morning in the common room when Wodyn strode in from the woods, looking torn and bloodied. 

“Wha’ happened t’ you, man?” Olgar asked.

“I was attacked by some kind of fiendish boars in the woods,” the barbarian replied.  “They were tough – I had to retreat to survive.”

“Think it was th’ work o’ tha’ druid we irritated las’ week?” Olgar asked.

“Probably.  Didn’t see anyone around,” Wodyn shrugged, and sat down.

Nelum came downstairs, then, the pile of equipment in his arms.  He had finished identifying all the items.  Yuusdrail was sporting the black-and-red robes of Moloch.

“Wha’s she wearing those fer?” Olgar demanded.  “We’ve not divided th’ treasure yet!  Them’s our magic!”  Yuusdrail passed Olgar the curing wand, and he hushed his protests.

After a bit of haggling, the party came to a consensus.  Nelum would receive the protective _earrings of natural armor_ and _cloak of resistance_, to be considered a permanent retainer for the use of his services in the future.  Yuusdrail kept the robes, Olgar the wand, and Belarn received a _potion of invisibility_ and a set of _pipes of the sewers_.  They divided up the magical flaming torches equally.  They decided to pool the remaining items, the holy symbol of Moloch and the magical sickle, until they could sell them and divide up the profits.  Aerolite City was too small to have much of a market for such powerful items, so that would mean a trip to a larger city.

They had just resolved to make the trip the next day when the sounds of screaming came from the street outside.  The group rushed out on the front steps of the temple, drawing weapons.

A local woman was running toward the temple, a look of abject horror on her face.  Chasing her was a squat, whitish, blubbery humanoid, that stood about three feet tall.

“Cousin a’ yers?” Olgar smirked at Belarn, but Nelum shouted out “It’s a DEMON!”

The woman ran behind them, gasping, and fainted.  The thing made a series of rumbling, burbling, screeching noises.  Nelum’s eyes brightened, and he said “It said: ‘You summoned me, I have come for my payment!  Give her to me!’”

“That tears it,” Olgar said, “Iff’n she made a deal with a demon, i’s no business o’ ours, let it have ‘er.  Ye deals wi’ demons, ye suffered the consequences.”

The creature stopped advancing, and burbled at Nelum.  Nelum burbled back, then translated “It says she is of the bloodline, and must be taken.”

“We’ll see about that,” Wodyn said, and stepped off of the temple steps, drawing his greataxe.  With one powerful; overhand swing, he crushed the thing to babbling goo.  He turned around and looked helplessly at Nelum.  “I thought you said this was a demon.  Aren’t demons supposed to be tough?”

Nelum shrugged.  “It’s just a little demon,” he explained, “they mostly run errands.”

“Aye, an’ we’ll ha’ nae truck wi’ demonic errands,” Olgar protested.  “Thi’ town’s goin’ t’ ‘ell in a ‘andbasket.  Entirely too much weird stuff goin’ on fer me likin’.  Best we’re off t’ other parts.  Leave th’ wench – she made ‘er bed, let ‘er lie in it.”

Wodyn was already helping the woman to her feet, though.  “You saved me!” she said, once she’d been steadied.  “I don’t know where it came from!  I was just burning some terrible books Sarah had, and …”

“You’d better begin at the beginning,” Wodyn said, sitting her down.  Olgar rolled his eyes, but stowed his weapons and leaned in to listen.

“Well, about a week ago some of my daughter Sarah’s friends began to disappear.  They had been acting really strangely, going out in the dead of night, but I didn’t think much of it.  First Zachariah Lightbringer disappeared, then the twins Brandon and Brenda.  Then yesterday, Sarah didn’t come home from the market.  I was worried, so this morning I searched her room.  I found some sort of evil, demonic books.  I threw them into the fire, and that’s when that thing appeared.”

”What kind of parent ye call yerself, lettin’ yer daughter get caught up wi’ a demonic cult,“ Olgar said accusingly.  The woman just gaped at him.

“The thing mentioned bloodlines,” Wodyn continued, and then had an inspiration, “are you related to the Gentries?”

“Yes,” she said, “Distantly. Zachariah was part of the family.”

The others looked at Wodyn, who was letting the woman go, asking her to return to her home.  “What’er ye inferrin’ big man?  A couple a’ missin’ kids ‘re no businees o’ ours, ‘specially wi’ idjit parents lik tha’.  T’aint seen no dwarven tykes runnin’ around wi’ demonic cults lately, have ye?” Olgar asked.

“I think the missing girl, and maybe th’ others, are related to Farmer Ted,” Wodyn explained.  “That’s where our interest comes in.  We don’t know if we killed him, or he escaped.”

“Aye, best not t’ leave an enemy behind ye,” Olgar agreed. “But ‘m still not convinced.  Show me a direct connection, an’ I’ll help ye, but without, yer on yer own.  None o’ out business, I still say.”

Wodyn looked to Nelum.  “Is there a place that keeps birth records in this town?” he asked.

Neelum nodded.  “The temple of Veriday.”

“Then let’s look there.”

They trooped across town to the Temple of Veriday, a soaring electric blue and white structure on the north side of town.  After a few minutes negotiating with the acolyte on duty, they were escorted in to the room of records, and shown a slim book bearing the name “Gentry”.

“Here’s Farmer Ted …” Wodyn said.  “Says here Zachariah Lightbringer and Noir Rutherford are adopted grandchildren of Farmer Ted.”

“Noir Rutherford is the druid you had problems with last week,” Nelum said.  Olgar looked up at him.

“Aye, that’d be explaining it.  Iff’n there’s one bad apple in th’ basket, there’s bound t’ be more.  Like as not ol’ Farmer Ted came back, ‘n was corruptin’ ‘is grand kids.  Th’ druid attacked us once, and we heard this Zach kid was involved wi’ this demon worshipin’.  Bet both o’ them went bad.  Explains tha’ druid actin’ all weird t’ord us ‘n all.”

Olgar looked at the records.  “Look ‘ere, only one survived outta each generation, but even th’ oldest taint listed as dyin’.  So either t’ records ‘re shoddy, ‘er there’s a lich in t’ family.”

Wodyn located the acolyte.  “Is there a Gentry house in town?” he asked politely.  The acolyte reflected a moment, then gave them directions to the Gentry mansion, which lay in the woods outside of town.  It had supposedly bee abandoned for decades.

“I bet the missing kids are at the mansion, working on something demonic,” Wodyn said.  “I’ll warn the woman that she may be in danger, then we’ll head out there and investigate.  I think we should warn the druid.  Farmer Ted might be there, too.”

“Are ye daft, man?” Olgar asked.  “By all evidence t’ druid’s knee deep in this!  I’ll go wi’ ye, iff’n only t’ spoke Farmer Ted’s wheel.  But we goes in th’ mornin’, so I kin better prepare me spells.”  Nelum nodded in agreement.

“Then it’s settled,” Wodyn said.  “Tomorrow we go investigate the Gentry house.”

The headed back to the temple, to rest and prepare for the next day.  During the night, Olgar was restless.  He went to the window, and noticed a human form below, watching the temple.  It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t identify the man at this distance.  _Th’ druid,_ he thought, _spyin’ on us?  I’ll take care o’ him!_  Olgar whispered an incantation, which fizzled.  The figure below turned and walked away. _ Ah, well, we’ll see ‘im again soon enough, I reckon._


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 23, 2002)

*Chpt 3, cont.*

The next morning, spells and equipment prepared, the group headed out the north road into the forest to find the Gentry mansion.  They had gone about a mile when they head the sounds of growling and shouting from the woods to their right.  Curious, they entered the woods.

_Well, what’d ye know.  It’s Siegfried!_  The druid of the white tiger stood at the middle of a clearing, being menaced by a boar and a snake.  Both creatures had an unearthly air about them.  The man was shouting at the animals:

“No, no! You have to listen to me! I called you!  Stop that!”

“That looks like one of the board that attacked me the other day!” Wodyn said, and drawing his axe, he charged the creature.  Belarn launched an arrow at the beast, while Nelum hid behind Olgar.

Olgar was torn.  _Th’ druid already attacked us once.  This may be a trick.  He said ‘e summoned th’ creatures, an’ they attacked Wodyn yesterday.  Wodyn’s a do-gooder, ‘e’ll ‘elp anyone who’s in a bind.  ‘e may not see wha’ I think’s comin.  Th’ enemy o’ me enemy … is likely still me enemy.  Best not t’ leave live enemy behind ye, da’ used t’ say._  Olgar made up his mind, and charged forward.

Wodyn had successfully slain the boar with the help of Belarn’s arrows.  The druid stepped back toward Wodyn, the snake following.  The man had been bitten at least once, and was visibly weakened.  He muttered some incantations, casting a spell which Olgar did not recognize, and then said “Stop” weakly, to no one in particular.

Olgar ran the man through with his sword.  

Belarn dispatched the snake with another well-placed arrow, as Wodyn lowered his axe.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” he screamed at the dwarf.

“Tha’ man’s not t’ be trusted – ‘e attacked us once before, an’ probably summoned those creatures.  I think ‘twas a setup,” Olgar responded.

“He was being attacked by fiendish beasts!” Wodyn went on, “He needed our help!  Killing him didn’t solve anything!”

“Well, by yer earlier logic, ‘e may o’ gone bad like ‘is grandfather.  We may o’ prevented a problem down th’ road.  An’ ‘e was already a demonstrated enemy.  I’d not be waitin’ fer ‘im t’ stab us in th’ back later.”  The dwarf shook his head.  “We’ll likely find evidence when we gets t’ the mansion.”

Wodyn shook his head.  “No.  We’re going back to town.  We must atone for this mistake.  We must get this man raised.”

“Are ye daft, man?  Where d’ye think ye’ll be getting ‘im raised?  ‘N how’re we t’ be payin’ fer it?  Kraig guided me sword, ‘n this one failed ‘is trial by combat.  ‘E was guilty, I tell you.”

Nelum was busy looting the man’s body.  He stood up, waving a wand around.  “There’s one person in town that could probably raise this man,” he said, “and we could trade this to pay for it.  It’s an unclean thing.”

Wodyn grabbed the wand from the man.  It was a length of polished wood, carved with representations of animals all along its length.  “We’ll go back and ask the high priest of Moloch to raise this man,” Wodyn insisted adamantly.

“Have ye lost yer mind, man?” Olgar asked incredulously, “ye weren’t too happy about workin’ fer tha’ priest before, ‘n now ye wants t’ go ask him this big favor, ‘n go raise this tiger-fancyin’ Siegfried?  Ye take a blow t’ the ‘ead I didn’t see?”

“Yes,” Wodyn said flatly, gathering up the body and whistling for his mount.

“Well, think o’ this then,” Olgar persuaded, “we go on t’ th’ house, an’ iff’n we find evidence tha’ he’s innocent, we get ‘im raised.  But if not, ye’ll not have t’ bow ‘n scrape t’ th’ priest o’ Moloch, an’ we kin leave ‘im dead.”

“We’ll ask him to speak with the dead first,” Wodyn said, “and that settles it.”  He loaded the body into the back of his elk, and the group set off for town.  Olgar drug his feet in protest the entire way.

_Oh, don’ mind us, local townsfolk,_ Olgar thought as they walked the cobblestone streets to the church of Moloch,_ nothin’ t’ see ‘ere.  We’re jus’ deliverin’ a body t’ the church o’ undeath.  Ye’ll see ‘im again in a few days, walkin’ around as a zombie!  Wodyn’s bein’ a foll, ‘e is.  Even ‘twere it a mistake, me killin’ th’ man, taint no reason t’ be doublin’ it by deliverin’ th’ bodies t’ that lot._

They reached the church, and the high priest smiled when Wodyn explained his dilemma.  The man in the black robes ushered them inside, having them lay the body on the altar.  The priest scurried away, then came back later with a scroll.

“And what is this worth to you?” the priest asked Wodyn.

“Well, we found this on a dead body in our travels,” Wodyn said, taking out the holy symbol of Moloch that they had taken from the priest back in Aurora Falls.  “We suspect it belongs to you.  Consider its return payment for speaking with this man’s spirit.”

The priest looked suspicious.  “Where did you say you got this?” he asked.

“Ah, we found it on a dead body in an underground temple in a nearby village,” Wodyn said. “The body was wearing robes like yours.”

_Th’ big man’s a lousy liar, _Olgar thought,_ I outta just say ‘Aye yer worship, we took it after th’ big man here axed yer predecessor’ an’ be done wit’ it._  But he remained silent.

The priest finally accepted the holy symbol, and began the an incantation from the scroll.  The ghostly image of a young girl appeared above the druid’s body, intoning “You have eight questions.”

Wodyn took charge.  “Are you the spirit of this man?”  he asked.

“No.”  the child-ghost replied.

“Do you speak for him?”

“Yes.”

“Does he wish to be returned to the living?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It is an abomination, a violation of the circle of life.”

_Guess we won’t be doin’ any tradin’ after all,_ Olgar thought smugly.

Wodyn continued.  “Is this man responsible for the infernal beasts in the forest?”

“No,” the spirit replied.

“Is he related to Old Man Gentry?”

“Yes.”

“Is the Gentry bloodline responsible for the problems?”

“Yes, and no.”

_Is Wodyn a big nancy-boy? _ Olgar thought, and suppressed a giggle.

“Last question,” Nelum warned.

“Where is the source of the evil?”  Wodyn asked finally.

“The center of the forest,” the spirit replied.  It nodded toward the high priest, saying “I’ll see you later,” and disappeared.

“See, Olgar,” Wodyn said, “there’s nothing at the house that’s responsible.  The evil is in the forest.  I’ll bet the druid was trying to stop it.  We must go purge the forest of this evil.”  He turned to the priest.  “Thank you for your assistance.  Well take the body to give it a proper burial.”

“No, we can handle that for you,” the priest replied.  Wodyn tried to stare the man down, but backed down himself.  The group departed empty-handed.

“Well, we’ll be seein’ that body again,” Olgar said cheerfully, once they were outside.

“Shut up,” Wodyn replied.  “We’re going back to the forest.  Now.”


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 25, 2002)

*Chpt 3, cont.*

They gathered their belongings and headed back out toward the “center of the forest”, looking for the source of the evil.  Very soon, they arrived at a clearing at the very heart of the wooded area.  

The clearing was dominated by a two-story stone and wood mansion, with a short turret extending up from the read of the house.  The house was boarded up and looked deserted.  The front garden was overgrown, and had obviously been left to grow wind a long time before.  The remains of a well could be see to the left of the path leading up to the front doors.

“Guess we’re going to the house after all,” Olgar smirked, “Spirit’s kinda sneaky tha’ way.”

Wodyn shrugged, and walked over to examine the well.  As he did so, a shadowy black figure rose up from its depths, a ghostly black appendage reaching out to slash at the barbarian.

Wodyn’s reaction was immediate.  His greataxe leapt into his hand, and he slashed through the thing.  The mysterious creature dissipated.  

Olgar walked up and looked down the well, but no more shadowy forms appeared.  He contented himself with examining the stonework – not dwarven quality, certainly, but not bad.  The construction was at least 200 years old.  Nothing else revealed itself at the well – no secret passages below, or anything else of note.  Olgar turned toward the house.

Meanwhile, Belarn and Nelum had walked around the building, and were just returning.

“No other entrances,” Belarn reported.  “There is a cemetery out back.  It’s got a big crypt or mausoleum at the center of it.  Most of the rest of it is overgrown, but I did see some headstones that read ‘Gentry’.”  

“We’re a’ th’ right place, then,” Olgar concluded.  “House ‘r crypt, which’ll it be?  Y’know th’ worst evil stuff’s likely t’ be in th’ crypt, o’course.”

“House,” Wodyn concluded.  “There’s tracks on the ground here, four sets, human, and one set, kind of like a kobold.”  He conferred briefly with Yuusdrail in her language, but did not translate for the rest.

They headed up to the front door.  Belarn checked it for hidden booby traps, and pronouncing it safe, they pushed it open.  It creaked slowly, revealing a dim hallway that headed north, ending in an archway that led to another hallway beyond.  Doors on the east and west walls led to other rooms.

They selected the western door, and entered a room that had once been a dining room.  In the dim light they could make out a large, dusty dining table.  Busts, portraits, and murals were arranged around the room, showing the activities of various men.  No two were the same, but all had a family resemblance.

“Look a bit like Farmer Ted, don’t they,” Nelum observed.  The others nodded.  They proceeded into the room beyond, a kitchen.  This room showed some signs of recent use – it was not so dusty.

“Looks like our four missing kids are probably here,” Wodyn said, “between the tracks and the activity here.”

“Aye, we jus’ have t’ find ‘em ‘n stop whate’r they’re up t’.”  Olgar agreed.

They went back to the east, crossing the entrance hall, and entered a large musty room.  Bookcases lined all four walls, from floor to ceiling, and two ladders were placed against the cases, allowing access to the upper shelves.  Nelum’s eyes lit up, and he began examining the books on the shelves.

“Lots of works on dark magic, old religions, dark gods.  All of it mundane,” he said with disappointment after a few minutes searching.  “One book is odd, though.  A book about the good realm of Celestia, on a shelf over there.  It looks out of place.”

Belarn went over and took a look at it.  Pulling it out cased one of the bookshelves to shift, revealing a passage beyond.

“Aye, now we’re getting’ somewhere!” Olgar said.  The others formed up and they entered the passage, which ran north, ending at a door.  Beyond the door was a flight of stairs spiraling upward.  They followed the stairs to a landing at the top – in the turret at the rear of the house.  From the turret they could look out over the overgrown clearing that had once been a lush garden – probably decades before.  The turrets floor was covered in dusk, and stacked with bins and boxes, none of which contained anything of interest.

They trooped back down the stairs, Olgar paying more attention to the stonework on the stairway on the return trip.  His close observation was rewarded with the discovered of a secret catch in the stone, about halfway down the staircase.  After Belarn examined it, Olgar tripped it, causing a section of the south wall of the stairwell to swing away into a short hallway that led to a lighted space beyond.

They walled down the short hallway, to a balcony that overlooked a small greenhouse area that was located in the center of the house.  Various plants and vines grew up from the floor about twenty feet below.  Light streamed in from a series of skylights about twenty feet overhead.  Nothing was moving in the vegetation below, so after a few moments careful observation, they retreated back down the stairs and back to the entrance hall.

“Try the archway, then,” Olgar urged, and they went toward the back of the house.

Beyond the archway was a hallway running east-west.  There were two doors in the north wall of the hall, each about ten feet down the hall from the archway to the left and right.

“Right door prob’ly lead t’ th’ garden,” Olgar presumed, “le’s take the left one.”

Belarn stepped up, examining the door, and then opening it as had become their routine.
As the door swung open, a sickly looking hand in decaying garments swung down at the surprised halfling, who was just able to throw himself out of the way.

As the door swung all the way open, Olgar could make out the short figure of a human female, dressed in the clothing of a ladies maid.  The maid had clearly been dead for a long time, though, from the stench that arose from the room, and the rotting flesh that peeled slowly off the skeleton beneath.  The creature was trying to grad Belarn, so Olgar triggered his crossbow at the thing, firing just over Belarn’s head.  The bolt thunked into the creature, spinning it, but not dropping it.

Nelum chanted something from the back of the group, and a bolt of energy soared between them, striking the creature, and dropping it to the floor, where it hissed briefing before going motionless.

“Right,” Olgar said, when it was obvious the thing was dead.  “From now on th’ runt checks the door, but th’ big man opens it.”

The others nodded agreement, and examined the room beyond.  Partitions divided the room into a number of similar chambers, each with a cot, dresser, and other similar furniture.

“Servant’s quarters, most likely,” Wodyn said, and they exit the room through a door in the western wall.  The hallway beyond led north to a flight of curving stairs that led up to the second floor.  The group ascended slowly and quietly.

“Second floor, back o’ th’ house,” Olgar whispered when they reached the landing at the top.  Iff’n anyone’s here, they’re probably up here.”

A hallway led straight ahead, southward, from the landing. Two other halls branched off to the left.  They looked down the first, and saw a series of door lining the north wall.

“Too close t’ th’ back o’ th’ house,” Olgar whispered, “those room’s prob’ly small.  Try th’ next hall.”

They crept down the hallway and around the next corner.  The hallway dead-ended after a few feet, but there was a door to their left.  Belarn checked it, signaled that it was clear, and Wodyn opened it.

Beyond was a study.  A large desk dominated the room, and more bookshelves lined the walls.  “Books!” Nelum said with glee and walked forward to examine a large volume that was sitting open on the desk.

Olgar rolled his eyes, and remained in the corridor, examining the walls for traces of scret passages.  A poofing sound and a crackle of flames from the open door brought him running.

Nelum was standing with the scorched remains of a book in his hands, covered it soot, with nasty red burns over his exposed skin.  “Explosive runes,” he coughed, and passed out.

“Aye, serves ye right fer rushin’ ahead,” Olgar said.  He drew the curing wand that he had taken as his share of the loot from their last adventures, and waved it over Nelum.  The man’s burns glowed briefly, then closed over, leaving behind soft pink skin.  Nelum woke, coughing his thanks, and Olgar helped him to his feet.  Nelum worked on brushing the soot out of his robes while Belarn and Wodyn searched the room.

“Secret door,” Belarn said from the rear.  Wodyn went to help him open it.

“Aye, an’ iff’n there’s anyone there, they likely know we’re comin’” Olgar said.  The barbarian pushed the concealed door open, revealing a small chamber beyond.  It was filled with odd bottles, tubes, bowls, and other containers, and had a strange smell to it, that of many acrid spices or chemicals.

“This is an alchemical lab,” Nelum said in awe.  “Recently used, too.  I can probably get some good ingredients for my spells here.”

“Wait on that,” Wodyn said, “Let’s check this door first.”  There was an ornately carved door in the eastern wall of the chamber – far fancier than any door they had seen in the house yet.  Wodyn pushed it open, and it turned easily on well-oiled hinges.

The space beyond was a brightly lit chamber, about fifteen feet wide and thirty feet long.  Torches were set in sconces about ten feet up on either side of the door, and every few feet down the walls, showing the ceiling of the place to be almost thirty feet overhead.  Carvings and murals of strange figures, purple-skinned humanoids with strange blank white eyes, and four squid-like tentacles where their mouths should be, lined the walls.  There were thirteen of the figures in all.  In the flickering light, it looked as if the figures were moving sinuously.

A block of stone about five foot square stood at the end of the chamber, almost thirty feet from where Wodyn stood in the doorway.  A young human male stood in front of it, turning to face them.  A young girl – the missing Sarah, by her description, was behind him to the left, next to the altar.  

The strangest thing in the room was standing, perched, on the altar.  Four feet high, it resembled a pudgy, demonic kobold.   It was reptilian, black, trimmed with red, with glowing red eyes.  Small wings jutted from its back, and it had long, well-sharpened and polished claws.

The young man turned to them, saying: “I believe you were just leaving.”

Yuusdrail slipped between Wodyn’s legs, running up to kneel before the creature on the altar, jabbering in her own language.

“I don’t think so,” Wodyn growled, stepping into the room.

Nelum had crept up past Belarn and Olgar, who stood to either side of the door, and looked around Wodyn’s shoulder.

“DRAGON!” he screamed in fright.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jul 25, 2002)

*Chpt 3, finis.*

_Kraig!_ Olgar thought,_ now this’ll be a fight!_

The black creature’s wings began to flap, and it lifted off the altar and began to fly toward the center of the room, gaining height with each motion of its small but obviously powerful wings.  Hovering in the center of the room, it spat a glob of spittle toward the doorway.

Wodyn dodged aside, catching only a little of the acidic spittle on the outer portions of his armor.  Nelum was caught completely by surprise, and the acidic substance splashed across his chest.  He staggered, obviously hurt, but regained his composure and began to chant an incantation, spreading his hands in front of him.

The tall young man by the altar and the young lady behind him both began to intone their own incantations, making arcane gestures with their hands.

Nelum completed his spell first.  A stream of liquid energy, shifting in color through all the rainbow hues, spouted forth from his hands and splashed the length of the chamber.  The young man continued his spell, but the woman was stunned by the impact of the energy, and did not finish her spell.

Belarn darted behind Nelum, firing an arrow from his bow at the tiny dragon.  He hit, scratching it, and succeeding in enraging it even more.

Olgar dived past Nelum, dodging through the doorway and rolling into one corner of the room.  There he cast a spell of his own.  Calling on the divine might of Kraig, he caused an image of Kraig’s Blessing, the great flaming sword of the god, to materialize in front of the dragon.  The sword attacked with a fury.

_Outta keep th’ little bugger busy!_ Olgar thought.

Recovering from his dodge of the dragon’s spit, Wodyn charged forward, breaking his axe down into his two component pieces as his did so.  His target was the you man, who had just completed his own incantation.  Black shards of arcane armor sprang into being about the young man.  Wodyn just roared and slashed at his with a hand axe, causing blood to go spurting across the altar.  A gaping slash wound ran down one of the man’s arms, but the man did not appear to weaken.

Suddenly, the entire room went black, as if all of the torches were instantly extinguished and night had suddenly fallen.  Even Olgar’s dwarf sight failed him.  He was virtually blind.  He could hear Belarn’s bow thrum as the halfling launched another arrow, and heard the arrow skip off the stone walls.  Nelum mumbled incantations behind him, sending a bright bolt of energy up into the room to collide with an unseen form.

_At least I ain’ blinded,_ Olgar thought. _ Tha’s magical darkness._

In front of him, a small light appeared at floor level, just enough to illuminate the young man, the altar, and Wodyn, who was retrieving one of his hand axes.  Wodyn had apparently managed to fish one of the magical lights they had taken from the ancient temple out of his pouch.  The magical flame did not banish all of the darkness, but it was enough to give Olgar a target.  He chanted another incantation, and pointed his fist at the man in front of the altar, who was casting another spell.  The man went suddenly rigid, his incantation ceasing.

_Gotcha!_  Olgar thought, a feral grin coming to his lips.  He drew Stonecleaver from the sheath at his back, and began to move up behind Wodyn, feeling his way in the dark.

Olgar heard the beating of wings as something flew by him, then heard the screech of the dragon as Wodyn cried out in pain.  At the rear of the room, Nelum whispered another incantation, which ended in a brief flicker of light that was suddenly extinguished.  The next sound was that of the door slamming.

_Not lookin’ good fer us!_ Olgar thought.  Then Wodyn stepped back into the small circle of light, bringing both his axes down on the frozen man.  The man collapsed the the floor, his lifeblood draining from two enormous rents in his body. _ One down, two t’ go!_

Suddenly, claws raked over Olgar’s back.  They didn’t penetrate his mail, but clearly the dragon wyrmling had managed to locate him somehow in the darkness.  _Time t’ do summat about that! _Olgar thought.  He cleared his mind, and focused his thoughts on Kraig’s temple.  A soft red glow enveloped him, and he knew that he was safe in Kraig’s blessing, unless their opponents should break through his divine protection.  He began casting another spell, one that would increase his strength so that he could rain down crushing blows upon his opponents.

Wodyn, meanwhile, was laying about in the dark with his axes, attempting to find the dragon.  Every now and again a claw would lash out from the darkness and strike the man, then be gone before Wodyn could react.  The barbarian was already bleeding from a number of small wounds.

His spells complete, Olgar lashed out at where the creature should be after he saw its shadow against the one small light in the darkness.  He landed a light blow, not enough to wound, but enough that he knew where the beast was.  He was rewarded by a splash of acid that burned down into his armor.  He would have cried out in pain, but his rage was building, and he was solely focused on bringing down that reptilian creature of darkness.  He barely noticed as the young woman pushed passed him, opening the door behind him.  The door’s opening was immediately followed by the “thwack” of a crossbow firing.

Olgar drew another bead on where he though the dragon was, and lashed out at it.  His blow didn’t connect, but it forced the creature back into Wodyn, who was able to wound it with his axe.  The wyrmling screamed again, and attempted to flee, but as it tried to fly past Wodyn, he swung again with his axe, crashing the blade into the back of the creature’s neck.  The darkness vanished, and the dragon fell dead to the temple floor.

With man and dragon both dead or dying, Wodyn and Olgar rushed back toward the entrance to the room, where the young woman stood in a stand off with Nelum – she with her quarterstaff, the mage with a crossbow.  Yuusdrail wailed in sorrow behind them, throwing herself onto the corpse of the dragon.

“Stop,” the woman demanded, “or I’ll kill him!” She thumped the mage with her staff for good measure.

“Doubt it!” Olgar growled, and swung his sword, which glanced off of some invisible shield that she had erected around her.

“Wait!” Wodyn said. “We will take your surrender!”

The woman turned to Wodyn and spoke in a language Olgar did not understand.  Wodyn responded in kind.  The woman lowered her weapon, and continued to converse with Wodyn, who had likewise lowered his weapon.

“Wha’s she sayin?” Olgar growled, his sword still at the ready, rage burning inside him.  He longer to reach out and destroy this final enemy, but loyalty to Wodyn held him in check.

Wodyn’s conversation continued for a moment longer, and then he spoke to Olgar and the others.  “This is Sarah.  I’ve given her safe passage.  She was held against her will by the others here.”

”Wha’?” Olgar asked incredulously, “Yer just gonna let ‘er go?  Wha’ about th’ spells she was castin’?”

“Spells of protection,” the girl replied, “I foresaw your coming.  I have a talent for that.  That’s why Zachariah wanted me, so I could assist him in bringing about his prophecy.”

“Wha’ prophecy, wha’ are you talkin’ about?” Olgar demanded.

“The end of the world; the remaking of the world,” the girl explained.  “Zachariah’s ancestor had one of the seven stones that would bring about the end of the world.  There is an active gate to the Abyss in the crypt in the cemetery.  Zachariah was bringing through demonic allies, like this demon wrymling, to help him find the other stones.  Those, plus the death of his brother, would seal open the gate and bring about the end of the world, and bring back the Old Gods, the ones represented in this temple.”

“The mind flayers,” Nelum said, and the girl nodded.

“I must go now,” she continued, “to find Noir, and make sure he is safe.  His death starts the prophecy.”

“Er …” Olgar began, then thought better of it.  _Guess we need’nt share tha’ little detail._

“Go,” Wodyn said. “We will see to the gate.”  The girl departed. Belarn was already searching the temple, and Nelum pulled a dagger and a bag of coin from the body of the Zachariah.

“Check these for magic?” Nelum asked Olgar, and Olgar muttered a brief prayer.  There was a hint of necromancy about the dagger, and he detected another aura about the altar, which Belarn was examining closely.

“Aha!” Belarn exclaimed.  There was a ‘click’, and the halfling dove into a small recess that opened in the altar.  A few moments later he emerged with a bag of coin, a gem studded necklace, and a scroll case.  Both the necklace and the scroll gave auras of magic.

“We’d best get to the crypt,” Wodyn said.

“Nae, we’d best see t’ healin’ up, getting’ rest, an’ recovering some spells,” Olgar disagreed.  He, Wodyn, and Nelum were all cut, bruised, or suffering from the effects of the dragon’s acid breath.  Wodyn was starting to show the effects of shock.  Olgar took out his curing wand, and gave each of the three a brief treatment.

_Kraig fergive me fer actin’ th’ healer,_ he thought, _but ‘twas a good fight. An’ tis glorious defatin’ a dragon, even one ‘tis only a wyrmling._

Wodyn reluctantly agreed, and after a brief search of the rest of the house, where they found nothing of note, the party went out into the woods to camp and prepare for the next day’s assault.  In the morning they would enter the Gentry’s family crypt.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 2, 2002)

CHAPTER 4 – FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

The party camped in the house that night, prepared to do battle the next morning.  In the night, the sound of a scuffling in one corner of the room woke Olgar and Belarn.  Olgart slowly turned over, and noticed the kobold going through Nelum’s pack.

“Wha’ in th’ nine ‘ells ‘re you doin’, lizard?” Olgar shouted, waking the entire group.  Yuusdrail froze, caught red handed.

“Nothing,” she whimpered.

Wodyn bounded over and grabbed the kobold.  She had been going through a book in Nelum’s pack, and in her hands were bits of the things she had taken off of the dragon corpse: a few scales, a vial of blood, and a couple of teeth.

“She ain’t t’ be trusted,” Olgar growled, “no doubt she was plannin’ t’ cast a spell ‘re summat worse.  I says we off ‘er right now.”

Wodyn shook his head, then took a look at the book.  “What were you doing, little one?” he asked the kobold.

“Gain dragon power,” Yuusdrail said.

“Likely story,” Olgar growled, still unconvinced.  “She prob’ly wants t’ resurrect th’ damn thing.”  

“Let it go, dwarf,” Wodyn said.

“Fine,” Olgar replied, rolling back over, “but iff’n I catch ‘er goin’ through me stuff, she’s dead, an’ you ain’t stoppin’ me.”

The rest of the night passed quietly, and after preparing their weapons and spells the groups headed downstairs and out behind the mansion to the cemetery.  It was a small plot, about fifty feet on a side, with twenty or so aged headstones, all bearing one Gentry name or another.  In the center of the plot was a stone mausoleum about ten feet square.  A door faced them, with a carved gargoyle leering down over the doorway.

Olgar fired a crossbow bolt that shattered off of the gargoyle.  “Just checking,” he muttered, “alright, runt, check the door.”  They entered the cemetery, Nelum remaining just outside the gate, and Belarn carefully examined the door for traps.

“It’s clean,” he announced, and then attempted to open the door.  The eyes of the gargoyle above the door glowed briefly red, and Belarn’s eyes glazed over.

“Clean my arse,” Olgar muttered, “tha’ looked like a trap.  Still, prob’ly discharged a’ th’ first shot.  Fine, let th’ priest try.” He shouldered aside Belarn, who had lost his usual cunning look and was staring blankly at his thieve’s tools.  “Quit standin’ there like an’ idjit an’ get outta th’ way.”

The door opened smoothly for Olgar, allowing him through, then closed behind him.  He shouted through the closed door: “Not much in here, some remains, an’ a big stone coffin.  Get in heres so’s I ken open th’ thing!”

_Guess I’ll have t’ do it meself,_ Olgar thought grimly.  He stowed his crossbow and rolled up his sleeves, calling on Kraig to protect and shield him, and increase his strength so that he could open the coffin.  His prayers and spells finished, Olgar kicked at the lid of the coofin, spilling it onto the floor.  A black opening yawned in the bottom of the coffin, revealing a set of stairs that descended into blackness.

“Stairway down,” he yelled back.  _Now wha’ could be keepin’ them?_

There was a banging of steel on stone coming from the far side of the stone door.  Wodyn, not willing to risk the trap that had drained Belarn’s mind, was banging away at the stone gargoyle with his axe.  After a number of swings, the stone finally cracked and gave way, opening the door, but also releasing a rush of pinkish magical energy that washed over Wodyn, Belarn, and Olgar.

Olgar felt his strength and health fade from him.  He gave a brief cough, not feeling his hale dwarven self.  He turned to the doorway.  “Now wha’d ye go an’ do tha’ for?” he asked Wodyn accusingly.  Belarn’s blank expression had advanced: he was into full-on idiocy now.

Wodyn’s shoulder’s slumped.  All his will to fight had been drained from him.  “I was trying to disable the trap,” he said.

“It worked,” Olgar replied, “but now we’re in no shape t’ face whate’ers down there.  Back t’ the temple o’ Kraig.  Either this hex’ll pass by morning, or I’ll fix us up a couple o’ restorations an’ see iff’n tha’ might do the trick.  Come on.”  Olgar paused long enough to restore the lid of the stone coffin, tapping in a few steel spikes for good measure.

_Don’ know about this.  Even wi’ th’ power o’ Kraig, I’m not sure we ken close a demon gate.  An’ we ain’ goin’ t’ try unless we’re 100%!_

They headed back to town and spent the night at the temple of Kraig.  They felt no better the next morning, so Olgar prepared a few spells to restore their health and vigor.  All of the spells failed.  Olgar’s health was still poor, Belarn was still an idiot, and Wodyn still lacked the will or common sense to go on.  Only Nelum – who had been standing outside the blast of the trap – was completely untouched.

They sat outside on the steps of the temple, discussing their next move.  None of them wanted to go back to the crypt in their current condition, and it was obvious that they lacked either the knowledge, skill, or power to lift the curse brought on by opening the crypt.  Olgar was of the mind that the world could go hang – there were plenty of other heroes that could stop up a gate.  This little problem was out of their league.

“We got one as needs a brain,” he argued, “I needs me heart, ‘n Wodyn’s lost ‘is nerve.  Hang this town; le’s be off t’ find a wizard who’ll serve t’ fix ‘re little problem.”

“Yussdrail fix,” the kobold offered, and scampered off.  She returned a short while later with their old friend, the high priest of Moloch in tow.

Olgar looked at the heavens and rolled his eyes.  _Deus ex machina, here we go again._

“Your kobold companion explained your little problem,” Father Mayi began smoothly, “I’ll happily lift your curse if you’ll do me a favor in return.”

All except Nelum looked dubious.  “What sort of favor?” Wodyn asked.

“There is an item down in the crypt I would like you to retrieve for me.  Just bring it back to me when you’re done, and you can keep anything else you find,” the priest replied.

“Why’nt ye get it yerself?” Olgar asked suspiciously.

“Well, I suppose I could, but I have so much else to do, and I always like to help a friend in need.”

“Excuse us a minute,” Olgar said to the priest, then turned to the others.  “Huddle.”

They stepped around the corner of the building.  “Well, what ye think?” Olgar asked the others.  “I’ve no problem workin’ fer th’ man, but I ain’t likin’ how ahppy ‘e is t’ be helpin’ us.  We’re plannin’ t’ be off t’ th’ city t’ sell off some items, so’s we might as well be off’n take care o’ this curse there as well.  Hang these buggers, they ken solve their own problems.”

“We probably shouldn’t let whatever that is fall into that priest’s hands,” Nelum offered.  “Let’s take him up on the offer, then skip town once we’ve got the item in hand.  We win all around!”

“Are ye daft man?” Olgar retorted, “Based on all ‘e’s done already, tha’ priest a’ likely blast this town down iff’n he had th’ mind t’.  I ain’t gonna cross ‘im.  We don’ need those kinds o’ enemies.  Wodyn?”

“I’m thinking that we’re out of our league,” Wodyn replied, “but I leave it to you.”  

Belarn was obviously going to be no help.  Olgar took a deep breath, and walked back around the corner.

“Well, yer worship,” he began, “tis a generous offer, an’ havin, considered it, we’ve decided ye can go hang.  Thanks anyway, nice knowing ye.”  At that, he spun on his heels, and with the others in tow, they walked away down the street toward the livery stables, leaving the speechless priest in the dust behind them.

Nelum was discussing the merits of riding to the nearest city, Oerid, and had finally convinced Olgar that it was not heresy to ride, when they noticed a white figure watching them from a rooftop.

“It’s that Sarah girl, the diviner,” Nelum said.

Sarah descended and approached them, and began spouting verse: “Ice and spirits, gone but alive; what was seven is now five.  The gate doth open, and soon shall see, to close the gate, the dragon is key.”

“Whatever,” Olgar replied, “go find yerself some new heroes.  We’re off t’ find a job tha’ pays better fer th’ hazards.  Let summat else save the world.”  He gave the girl a rude gesture, and left her behind.  Wodyn, Nelum, and Belarn followed him, leaving only Yuusdrail with the now dispirited Sarah.

“Yuusdrail fix,” the kobold said, tugging at her gown.  Kobold and human turned away from the four and walked toward the outskirts of town.  

_Finally rid o’ that one!  All’s well tha’ ends better, then!_ Olgar thought.

An hour later the four were mounted on new horses and ponies, Wodyn’s wild elk in the lead, headed northward on the yellow brick road toward the city of Oerid and new adventures.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 2, 2002)

*Chpt 4, cont.*

Just outside of town they came upon a roadblock.  Two woodsy-looking characters, a human and a dwarf, were standing in the middle of the road.  Several large animals – a bear and some wolves – stood in the road with them.

_Druids, great, _Olgar remarked, _this’ll leave a mark. _ He looked to the left and right, looking for an avenue of escape, then realized that if he spurred his pony to a gallop, he’d probably fall right off.

“Stop, we need to talk to you!” the druids said.  The party halted.  

Wodyn looked down from his elk.  “What can we do for you?”

“We’d like the wand that belonged to our friend Noir,” the human replied.

“Fine,” Wodyn responded, “here you go.”  He flipped him the wand, and the party rode onward, unmolested.

They traveled for three days without incident, and soon reached the outskirts of the city of Oerid.  After fighting off a small swarm of stirges – nasty mosquito-like creatures that sucked blood – just outside of town they were a bit drained but otherwise no worse for wear.  They headed for the city gate.

A city guard stopped them.  “Halt, state your business and peace-bond your weapons.”

“We’re ‘ere t’ do some shoppin’” Olgar said, “an’ get a curse lifted.  Wha’s peace-bondin?”

The guard demonstrated how by tying an elaborate knot, he would secure their weapons in their respective sheathes.  “More peaceful that way, “ he explained, “ And that’s how the Justice League likes it.  Are you a spell-caster?” This last was directed at Nelum, who nodded.

The guard bound the fingers of Nelum’s hands together with peace-bonds while Nelum asked, “Who are the Justice League?”

“They’re in charge of the city.  They make and enforce the laws, and see that everyone is treated the same.  Stay out of trouble, don’t cause fights, and stay away from the temple of Veriday, and you’ll be fine.”

“What’s wrong with the temple of Veriday?” Wodyn asked.

“It’s off-limits.  They have been causing trouble in the city, so we had to shut them down.”

Olgar shrugged, “ Aye, whatever.  What other temples be there?”

The guard began a long description of the various temples, their locations, descriptions, and his opinions of the various orders.  “Quite th’ tour guide, isn’t ‘e?” Olgar whispered to Nelum.  They finally obtained the information they wanted, and headed off to find the Temple of Obi, which was a gaudy shrine to the god of knowledge on the far side of town.

The priest in the sanctum at the temple of Obi welcomed them warmly and asked their business.

“We need a curse lifted,” Nelum explained, “actually, three of them.”  He described the symptoms, as the priest nodded.

“We can take care of that,” the priest said, ”for a small donation to the church.”

“Is this small enough?” Wodyn asked, taking out the large piece of onyx they had found in the dragon’s hoard.  The priest’s eyes popped.

“That will leave us deeply in your debt,” the priest stammered.

“Well, we could use a few healing scrolls, and we have some magical items we’d like to have examined,” Wodyn offered.  “Would those services justify this donation?”

The priest nodded.  “Follow me,” he said, and led them out a back door, through a couple of rooms, then through a door hidden behind a bookcase into a passage that spiraled downward.  Eventually they came to a small, well-lit chamber that contained a desk and a couple of bookshelves.

The priest sat down, took the gem, and Wodyn passed over the remaining magical items that needed evaluation – the sickle, the dagger, and the garnet necklace.  The priest handed him back a small flat piece of slate about four inches square.  

“Take this,” he said, “it will glow and vibrate when we are ready to speak to you again about the items.  In the meantime, you might want to find an inn.  I recommend The Lit Lantern, just around the block from here.  If you’ll wait a moment, we’ll see to the curse.”  

The priest departed and returned a short while later bearing three rolls of parchment.  In a low chant, he read each one and touched Wodyn, Belarn, and Olgar in turn.  Each of them took on a soft blue glow, which quickly faded.  Olgar immediately felt healthier and stronger than he had in days.

“Tha’s th’ ticket! Now le’s get some food ‘n rest!”

The adventurers thanked the man, promising to return as soon as they were paged.

They left the temple and found Strithe, the elven ranger, waiting for them outside.

“Where you been, an’ what’re ye doin’ here?” Olgar asked.  

“Following my vision,” the elf replied, “and tracking you down.”

“Could have used you help the last week,” Wodyn said, and filled the elf in on their recent activities.

“Ken we be goin’ now?” Olgar asked impatiently.

They departed, and soon arrived at a large, well-lit, two-story building whose sign proclaimed “The Lit Lantern”.  They entered the common room, a spacious area of tables and chairs that was about half-full of patrons.  Most of the clientele seemed to be adventurers – various races, many with odd dress or unusual equipment.  Many were wearing armor or carrying weapons.  A tall woman called out to them as they entered.

“Well met, and welcome to the Lit Lantern.  Are you looking for a room or services?”

“Aye,” Olgar said, “we could use a place t’ stay.  An’ what services ye offer?”

“We serve as an adventurers guild,” the woman replied, “we help link clients in need of … assistance … up with those that can help them.  There is a list of available work on that board over there.” She pointed to one wall, which had a number of leaflets, fliers, and notices tacked up on it.  “The cost is minimal, once you register with us.”

“Why register, if people can just go to the authorities to solve their problems?” Nelum asked.

The woman laughed.  “You obviously haven’t been in Oerid long.  There are many things people would prefer the city not to get involved in.”

“Aye, then,” Olgar said, “we’ll at least take a room fer a week’re so.”  He paid for their room, and the woman brought a tablet over.

“Sign the name of your company,” she said.

“Company, wha’ company?” Olgar asked, confused.

“The name of your adventuring company,” the woman replied, amused, “you did say you were adventurers, didn’t you?”

“Aye, but we’re more like five guys goin’ in th’ same direction,” Olgar replied.  With a wicked grin, he wrote “Five Guys Going in the Same Direction” down as their company name.  _Should ha’ called us ‘The Lollipop Guild,’_ he thought with a wry smile.

“Well, then, here’s the key to your room,” the woman said, and went to see to some of the other patrons.

“Well, time fer some much deserved rest,” Olgar said, “I’m t’ bed down.”

“I’m going to try and call a familiar!” Nelum announced.  The others shrugged, and headed off to their room to get some rest.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 3, 2002)

*Chpt 4, cont.*

The next morning the group gathered in the common room.  Nelum was showing off the rat that his magic had attracted the night before.  He had named the rodent “Cand,” and insisted on walking around with the thing perched on his shoulder.

_Looks even more like a bloody peacock,_ Olgar sneered.  He was reading the “want ads” that were posted on the wall.

“Aye, here’s somethin’ tha’ might be up our alley,” he announced to the others,” it says ‘adventurers needed to rid house of goblin infestation and recover family heirloom’.  Tha’ sounds like good, honest work – smackin’ greenies around.  Wha ye think?”

The others had no objection, and Wodyn actually growled at the mention of goblins.

“Aye, says here to contact Johann somebody-or-other.  Wonder where we find ‘im?”

“He’s right here,” said a voice from behind them.  A small sallow man was standing up from a table and walking over toward them.  “I’m Johann.  A goblin tribe raided my home and stole a priceless family heirloom.  I need some help to get it back.”

“Aye, then, how many were there, an’ wha’d they take?” Olgar asked.  “Presume ye live on a farmstead ‘r summat?”

“No, I live here in the city, against the east wall.”  Olgar raised an eyebrow.  “There were about seventy-five of them. I think they used magic, and teleported into my house, or something.”  Olgar raised his other eyebrow, and turned to Belarn, who was making a circling motion around one ear with his finger.  The man continued: “They took a magical sword that has been in my family’s possession for generations.  I’d gladly offer 300 gold each for its recovery.”

Olgar’s beady eyes took on a greedy look, and he began to rub his hands together.  Wodyn asked, “Why not just go to the city watch?”

Johann looked horrified.  “They’d probably tax me for it, or confiscate it, or worse.  I need it recovered quietly!”

“Aye, we’ll take th’ job, then,” Olgar decided.  “Ken ye lead us t’ yer house?”

“I’m not going back there if the goblins are still around,” Johann replied, shaking his head.  “That’s what I’m paying you for.  Here’s the directions.” He rambled off some directions.

At that point there came a buzzing noise, and Wodyn held up the small piece of slate that was flashing red and vibrating.

“Well, we’ve got summat t’ do b’fore we ken looks th’ place over,” Olgar explained, “but we’ll be out there first thing t’morrow.”

Johann nodded.  The rest of the party rose to their feet, and they followed Wodyn back to the Temple of Obi, where they presented the vibrating slate.  They were immediately ushered inside and down to the secret room in the catacombs, where the priest they had met the day before was waiting for them.

He handed Wodyn a roll of parchments.  “Here are the scrolls you requested.  Healing spells.”  Wodyn handed the rolls to Olgar.

“As to the other items,” the priest continued. “the sickle is of very high quality, quite sharp, and it’s magic allows it to strike more efficiently, though it has no other special powers.  The dagger is also enchanted, and will drain part of the life energy out of whomever it strikes.  The necklace will produce magical blasts of fire, if its gems are removed and thrown.  The larger gems produce larger blasts.”  He gave the items back to Wodyn, who handed the dagger to Belarn, and the necklace to Nelum.

“Time fer a bit o’ an auction!” Olgar said greedily, “tha’ sickle‘ll go t’ th’ highest bidder!”

“That’s not a wise idea,” the priest offered.

“An’ why not?” Olgar countered.

“The local government is not … friendly to free enterprise,” the priest explained.  “They would most likely quash the auction and confiscate the item for failure to file proper taxes.  That is essentially what they did to the Temple of Veriday, when the leaders there had issues with the Justice League’s brand of justice.  I can put you in touch with a factor who will likely purchase the item for further sale, if you like.”

“Do it,” Wodyn agreed.  The priest scurried off to send a message, and returned a few minutes later.

“Your meeting with the lady is arranged.  See the blind merchant,” the priest said, scribbling directions.  “He will be your contact.  Of course, you must keep all of this quite confidential.”

“No problem,” Wodyn agreed, as they departed.

_No problem,_ Olgar thought.  _Either the “Justice League” is a bunch a’ bloomin’ idjits, ‘r th’ whole house o’ cards is about t’ come crashin’ down.  We been in town less than 24 hours, an’ already found th’ underground adventurers guild, secret resistance t’ th’ government, an’ th’ thieves guild er summat.  No bloody city council could be tha’ incompetent.  Kraig save me from such buffoons._

They followed the priest’s directions to a small building whose sign boldly proclaimed “The Blind Merchant.”

“Catchy name,” Olgar observed as they entered.

The shop was a general store, which sold a great deal of normal clothing in addition to general supplies.  The shop’s namesake, the blind merchant, was sitting on a stool behind the counter as they entered.

“May I help you?” he asked as they entered.

“We’re here to see your lady friend about some merchandise,” Wodyn explained.

“Just a moment,” the man said, disappearing into the back room.  He returned a moment later.  “You’re expected.  Follow me please.”

_Didn’t even ask for identification.  These buggers won’t last long._

They followed the man into the back room, and then descended a ladder into a basement chamber.  There, seated behind a table, was a woman and two roguish companions.

“We’ve got a magical item we were told you might be willing to purchase,” Wodyn offered.

“Yes, I know,” the woman replied.  “We often buy such things, then pass them on to other buyers.  You won’t get market price, but it’s the best you’ll do in this town.  Let me see the item.”

Wodyn passed the sickle over, and the woman examined it, offering it to one of her companions, who also looked it over closely.  Then, after a few moments bargaining with Wodyn, they settled on a price of 500 platinum coins.

“Is there anything else?” the woman asked, when she had passed over their payment.

“No,” Wodyn said, rising to leave.

“You understand if you speak one word about us to anyone, we’ll have you killed,” she concluded matter-of-factly.

“Na’er heard o’ye, lassie,” Olgar said, and they departed.  

Once upstairs, they divided up the platinum coins, a hundred coins per, and split up to do some shopping on their own.  Belarn headed back inside, ostensibly to browse the lingerie aisle, but Olgar had overheard him talking about poison earlier in the day.

Olgar took his share and searched out the finest smith he could find.  By the time he returned to the Lit Lantern, he had exchanged his battered suit of scale mail for a nicely made suit of steel banded armor, and replaced his simple but serviceable crossbow with a much more finely crafted model.  

_Easy come, easy go, _he mused.  _Time t’ smite some greenies!_


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 3, 2002)

*Chpt 4, finis.*

The next morning they again assembled in the common room of the Lit Lantern, and then departed, following Johann’s directions.  They soon found his house, by the east gate of the city, and walked around it to examine it.

Their curiosity soon attracted a pair of guards from the east gate.  The two burly, mailed men strolled up, inquiring “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Examining this house for the owner.” Wodyn replied. “He had a problem with some goblins, and was afraid to come back.  He asked us to take a look first.”  

“He should have come to the watch, first,” the guard replied haughtily.  “There’s nought that rabble like you will be able to solve.  Go on then, do your investigation.  We’ll be watching you from the gate.  Report anything you find to us, first.”  He strolled back to his post.

“Aye, ranger,” Wodyn said to Strithe and Wodyn, “do yer ranger thing.  Look fer tracks ‘n all.”

There were the marks of many goblin feet around the building.  They went through the back garden, and over the city wall at the rear of the garden, out on to open pasture.  The party left the city through the gate, and picked the trail up on the outside of the wall.  The tracks headed to the northeast, across the pastures away from the city.

Strithe kept an eye on the trail, as the others went back into town to retrieve their assorted mounts.  Once mounted, they followed the trail out of town and into the farmland beyond.

They had traveled about eight miles beyond the city walls when the tracks ended at an old farmstead.  The place looked deserted – nothing moved about the large house or barn, no livestock were grazing or in the corral.  The windows on the house weren’t boarded up, though, so the place had likely not been deliberately abandoned.  

The adventurers dismounted to take a closer look at the place.  The majority of the tracks seemed to lead straight to the farmhouse door.

“Cats!” Strithe suddenly hissed.  Olgar turned.  A pair of large, odd-looking cats were stalking slowly toward them.  They were lion sized, with dark spots speckled over tan fur.  The beasts showed large teeth and non-retractile claws.  Their heads looked odd, as if the skin on them was too large for their skulls.  A quick glance around revealed that while there were two approaching slowly in the open, five more of the beasts surrounded them.

“Into the house – quick!” Wodyn called, and the group ran for the front door as their mounts whinnied in fear and bolted back to the west.  They just made the front door, diving in and slamming it behind them, as the lead cat let our a howl and sprang at them, snapping at Belarn’s heels.

Catching his breath, Olgar turned and leaned against the door, looking at the interior of the farmhouse.  It was a single, large room, about fifty feet on a side.  All of what had been furniture was smashed to splinters about the floor.  But that was the least remarkable thing about the place.

“I think we found ‘r greenies,” Olgar whispered.  Twenty pairs of eyes looked back at him, staring out of the heads of a number of short green-skinned humanoids with pointed ears and bad teeth.  Most of them held some sort of weapon – a crooked spear or wicked looking short sword.  Standing in the center of the room, towering over the smaller goblins, was a huge specimen over six feet tall.  It had the same basic build, green skin, and pointed ears, but also had a coat of brownish fur – a bugbear!  The creature was holding a long, finely crafted sword in two hands.

“Er, greetings,” Strithe said, speaking in the Goblin tongue. “We are seeking a lost sword, and have heard that you may know of it.”

“This sword?” the bugbear replied in broken Common, waving it about.  Electrical discharges crackled up and down the blade, and the goblins in the room tittered and cackled.  “Grog be keeping.  Drop weapons and gold, and Grog let you live!”

“I don’t think so,” Belarn muttered, releasing an arrow into their midst.  

The goblins charged, quickly surrounding the entire party, pushing them into a small cluster by the door.  Luckily, the first wave of attackers were rather small and weak, and were not able to penetrate any of the adventurers’ armor with their little swords.  The bugbear remained in pace, laughing, while behind him an oddly dressed goblin began chanting something in its own language.

Belarn dove and tumbled, bouncing up behind a goblin that was facing Strithe.  Two quick thrusts of a dagger, and the goblin collapsed to the floor.  Strithe meanwhile was launching arrows into the throng of creatures, and Wodyn was swinging and the three who surrounded him, trying to clear a path to get at the bugbear.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and heat, and half of the goblins collapsed, forming piles of little goblin corpses on the floor.  Nelum had thrown one of the gemstones from the magic amulet, and the resulting fireball had wiped out most of the goblins.  The bugbear looked lightly toasted, and swung his sword in anger.  Likewise, the chanting goblin and two of its bodyguards remained standing in the center of the blast.  The goblins closest to the group, who were outside the magical blast, attacked in a frenzy.

Olgar ducked and weaved, calling a sword of spiritual energy into being, that he sent to attack the bugbear.  He then pulled his own sword, and slashed the legs out from under a goblin that was threatening him.

The bugbear charged, hitting Wodyn twice in quick succession, cutting into the bug man’s armor and leaving gaping wounds in his arms and torso.  The creature left himself open, though, as Belarn tumbled behind him and stabbed him it the back of the knees with his magical dagger.

Olgar jumped over the body of a goblin, striking the bugbear with his own sword and the spiritual weapon.  The bugbear collapsed in a heap.

Strithe bounded forward and scooped up the sword the bugbear had been using.  Before the others could act, he pointed it at one of the remaining goblins and said “Drop your weapons and we’ll let you live.”  Short swords clattered to the floor, and the six remaining goblins lifted their arms in surrender.

“Oughta just get rid o’em,” Olgar offered, as Strithe and Wodyn rounded up the prisoners and tied them securely ina group in the center of the room.  “What’re we gonna do, just leave ‘em?  They’ll be back raiding when th’ rest o’ th’ clan returns.”

“I gave my word,” Strithe replied.  He held a brief conversation in Goblin with the prisoners, then turned to the others.  “They say they’re the only ones left of the tribe.  The cats killed and ate the rest.”

“Ye’ll believe th’ word o’ a greenie who’s jus’ tryin’ t’ save its skin?” Olgar asked incredulously.  “Fine, have it yer way, then, but don’ blame me iff’n we see these greenies again.”  He concentrated on healing Wodyn’s wounds with his healing wand.

“We have a problem,” Nelum said.  He was standing by one of the windows, peeking out from between the closed shutters.  “Those cats – they’re called krenshars, by the way – are still out there.  It looks like they’re waiting for us to come out.  They look hungry.”

Olgar looked around the room.  There was no other exit – just the one door and a number of windows.

“We won’t make it if we run for it,” Wodyn said.

“Toss ‘em a dead greenie,” Olgar suggested.  “Mebbe once they’ve had their fill they’ll go away.  Or maybe a live one.”  This last while glaring at the prisoners.

Wodyn shrugged, and then took a toasted goblin corpse and pushed it through the door, which he opened a crack and slammed again.

“One’s sniffing it …” Nelum observed through the window, “… no, they don’t seem interested.  Guess they want live meat.”

“Give ‘em the greenies,” Olgar suggested again.

“No, we’ll have to fight our way out,” Wodyn said.  “Nelum, use your necklace.  Maybe you can get most of them, or scare them off.”

Nelum nodded, and prepared to open the window to throw one of the magical gemstones out.  Olgar cocked his crossbow and crouched down behind the prisoners, covering Nelum at the window.

Nelum flung the window wide and tossed the small gem out into the group of cats.  Olgar could hear them scraming and wailing as the gem went off, but at least one cat was untouched, because it bounded in through the open window, knocking Nelum to the floor.  Olgar immediately fired, and his bolt caught the cat in the throat, killing it.  Wodyn rushed forward and slammed the window shut, then dragged Nelum out from under the cat corpse.

The other window, on the opposite side of the door, then burst open, as a singed cat jumped through it, landing full in the room.  It turned and screamed at Wodyn, who rushed it and received a mauling in return.  Nelum, who had by this time recovered both his feet and his wits, launched a bolt of magical energy at the beast, which knocked it to the ground.  The krenshar did not get up.

After a few moments, it became clear that those were the last of the beasts.  Everyone caught their breath, and then, leaving the six goblins tied up, they returned to Oerid, carrying the recovered sword.

Johann met them back at the Lit Lantern, and was overjoyed at the return of his heirloom sword.  He paid their fee, with a promise that they would say nothing more of this to anyone.

Olgar was examining the want ads again.  “Says here someone’s havin’ a problem with some lizardmen …”


TO BE CONTINUED …


----------



## Angelsboi (Aug 3, 2002)

*Seeting a few things straight ...*

Not the Justice League but the Five Justices

It was a broach not a slate thingy

Brother Fransisco is the head priest in the temple of Veriday and it was not shut down, they are trying to shut it down though.

The only churches shut down was a casino hall named Fates Folley and a local hospital (the church of Curie')

The blind merchant DID indeed ask for a secret word (Drendari, the goddess of thieves and shadows)

and to Olgar, how do you know the Justices DONT know about the secret guilds and the adventurers tavern?


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 3, 2002)

Critic.

How do you know the errors aren't intentional?


----------



## Angelsboi (Aug 3, 2002)

i was just giving you some unasked Gene and Siskel.  Knowing you, they were.  I was just letting your readers know =)


----------



## Angelsboi (Aug 9, 2002)

To let everyone know, Five Guys Heading in the Same Direction will be meeting again this weekend and you will all marvel of the tale told by Olgar about a small fishing villiage and their troubles.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 9, 2002)

Only this time it will probably be more like: "Four guys wandering about without their wizard".


----------



## Angelsboi (Aug 9, 2002)

well actually its: 

"Five Guys Heading in the Same Direction Minus One"


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 20, 2002)

Chapter 5 – A Trip to the Seashore

After a couple of days of rest and relaxation, the party decided it was time to start earning their pay again, and took another look at the Lit Lantern’s help wanted board.  One notice looked promising – a town on the ocean was having trouble with lizardfolk, and wanted some adventurers to come and put an end to them.

“I’m no fan o’ th’ ocean,” Olgar growled, “but iff’n it’s a stand up fight, ‘n not a bloody bug hunt, I’m in.”

“It’ll be fun!” Belarn enthused, “Fresh sea air, good seafood ..”

“Enough already, I’m in,” Olgar said, rolling his eyes.

Nelum elected to remain behind to do some spell research at the Temple of Obi.  The remaining four – Olgar, Wodyn, Belarn, and Strithe – prepared their mounts and headed east to the coast, to the fishing village of Coral.

Several days passed uneventfully, until late one day, as they could finally smell the tang in the sea air, Olgar spotted a pack of hunting cats on the trail ahead, a couple hundred feet away.

“Cats …” Olgar warned, “Nine … no, six o’ ‘em.  Look hungry, they do!”  He started casting some preparatory spells as the cats advanced.

The lead creatures – krenshars – flapped the skin on their foreheads back and gave a withering howl, exposing their skull-like faces.  Olgar just shrugged. Belarn ducked behind Wodyn’s legs, but only for a moment, as Wodyn and Strithe suddenly bolted and ran back down the trail the way they had come.

“Bloody cowards,” Olgar mumbled.  “Alright, runt.  ‘Tis time ye proved ye can fight.  Hold up yer end ‘n we’ll all be fine.”

The cats were about sixty feet away and closing fast.  A badger shimmered into existence, called by Olgar’s prayers to Kraig to come and fight on his behalf.  The creature charged three of the cats, nipping one of them before two of the cat creatures gutted the poor beast.

“Poor Spot … tha’ was a waste,” Olgar said to himself, and tossed off a spiritual weapon.  The glowing greatsword materialized in front of one of the cats and immediately began taking chunks out of the beast.  Olgar worked another spell, increasing his strength, then drew Stonecleaver and charged.

Belarn meanwhile had fired off a few arrows to good effect, but found himself surrounded by the cats.  Olgar came up on the opposite side of one of the creatures, skewering it with his sword, and Belarn finished the creatue up with a few well-placed thrusts to the kidneys.  Belarn then tumbled out of the way of the two other cats closing in on him, and he and Olgar set up the same flanking maneuver on the next creature, making short work of it.

Only one cat remained when Wodyn and Strithe, regaining their composure, returned to the fray.

“Saved one for ye!” Olgar called, and Wodyn finished the last cat off with a well-placed blow from his greataxe.  “Th’ runt proved ‘e can fight, fin’ly.  “Bout time ‘e started usin’ tha’ tumblin’ ‘n backstabbin’ stuff!”

Wodyn just shrugged, and the four picked up their gear and continued.  It was just getting dark when they reached the coast and a small, ramshackle collection of crude huts that claimed to be the village of Coral.

Accosting the nearest villager, Olgar inquired about locating the town’s fearless leader.

“Cap’n Luscious ‘ll be over at the tavern on the cliff,” came the answer.  Olgar guffawed, and all four shared a tremendous laugh.

“Cap’n Luscious?  I’ll bet ‘e’s a sight!”

Olgar recovered his composure, and they proceeded to the tavern.  The dwarf stumped right up to the barkeep.

“Yer best ale, a meal, and point out this Cap’n Luscious t’ me, iff’n ye please,” he said to the man.

The barkeep pointed toward a well-dressed man sitting at a table in the corner.  He poured off some ale, and handed Olgar a bowl of the worst rancid fish stew he had ever tasted.

“Blagh!” Olgar coughed, spewing fish stew all over the bar, “Ye can take that back!  Wahat’re ye tryin’ t’ do, poison me?”  He flipped the bowl over and dumped its contents out on the bar, and went to Cap’n Luscious’ table.  Strithe and Belarn followed; Wodyn grabbed his cooking spices and invaded the tavern’s kitchen to prepare something fit to eat.

“Name’s Olgar Shiverstone,” Olgar introduced himself.  “We ‘ear ye got yerself a lizard problem, ‘n we’re here t’ put a stop t’ it.  Fer a fee, o’course.”

Cap’n Luscious looked Olgar up and down suspiciously, then shrugged and motioned to the dwarf to sit.  

“Yes, we’ve had problems with lizard and fish creatures here,” he explained.  “Several times they have attacked the docks, stealing the catch, and harming good citizens.  The fishing has fallen off, and the town is beginning to feel the impact.”

Olgar questioned the man for a while further.  It seemed there were at least three different types of creatures – some sort of fish-men or lizard-men, Cap’n Luscious’ descriptions weren’t very clear.  They were never seen together, but attacked out of the fog and the sea at night.  Their targets were always the docks.  The merchant wasn’t sure where they came from, though he described a half-sunken lighthouse just off the coast that no one had investigated lately.  There were also some caves in the cliffs below this very building – but again, no one had investigated them in a good long while.

“My daughter could tell you a bit more,” Cap’n Luscious offered, “if you can pull her away from her books and her singing.”

“Thanks, no, we’ll be fine ourselves,” Olgar replied. “Now as to a suitable reward …”  They settled on 3750 gold, and free rooms – Olgar passed on the board – for the duration of their stay, provided they found the fish/lizard people and put a stop to them.

They concluded their dealings, and the party stepped outside to have a look around.  It was dark, but the fog had not yet closed in.  A light breeze blew in from off shore.  Olgar leaned over to Strithe.

“Me thinks we ought t’ stake out th’ docks from up ‘ere on th’ cliff fer a couple o’ hours, ‘n see what we see,” Olgar suggested.  “We kin check the caves in the morning’.  Ye ain’t getting me in a boat unless tha’s the last place we ‘ave t’ look!”


----------



## diaglo (Aug 28, 2002)

someone's falling behind.

what happened next?


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 29, 2002)

I'm building up the suspense.  For my _one_ fan.


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Aug 29, 2002)

*Chpt 5, cont.*

The party spent a couple of hours camped out on the bluff, covering the docks with their bows and crossbows.  Not a lizard or fish appeared down below to threaten the docks.  About midnight, just as they were about to pack it in and get some sleep back at the inn, a light blinked out over the water.  It appeared to be coming from the lighthouse, about 500 yards offshore.   The light blinked a few times – not in the manner an operating lighthouse might, and then went out.  

Belarn went nack to the inn to ask a few questions, and the others maintained their vigil.  Nothing.  Belarn returned to report the usual helpful answer from the locals: “The lighthouse is abandoned.  No one lives there.  No one goes there.  Our boats are too big to get close.”

Olgar raised his eyebrows at this last bit.  “A bloody fishin’ village, an’ nobody even has a rowboat?” Belarn shook his head.  “Like that one down there?” Olgar pointed to the base of the bluff, where a rowboat was pulled up on shore.

They gave up at that point and went back to the inn for some rest.  The next morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, they visited the beach, preparing to assault the cave complex that was conveniently located right below the inn, behind the docks.  No tracks led in or out of the caves, but the tide had just recently receded.  The rowboat was sifted a few feet from its position the night before.

“The rowboat’s moved,” Wodyn observed, “let’s check it out.  Maybe someone visited the lighthouse after we retired last night.”  He walked over to examine the boat.

The boast promptly reached out with a pseudopod, and decked the barbarian.  Hard.  Wodyn found himself stuck in the grip of a suddenly live, thrashing rowboat.

Olgar loosed a crossbow bolt, and Strithe and Belarn followed up with arrows.  Wodyn was able to break free, and his greataxe soon made short work of the rowboat creature.

“Mimic,” was all Wodyn said when they were done, as Olgar tended his wounds.  The big man held up a flask.  “This was inside.”

Olgar grabbed the flask.  “Tha’s more like it.  Here’s to killin’ some lizards!”  He hoisted the flask, which sloshed with some liquid, then opened it.  Instead of the bouquet of finely soured ale that he expected, he smelled – nothing.  Olgar cautiously poured a drop of thick, yellowish, viscous liquid out onto the sand.  “Best save tha’ for later,” he said in disgust, and put the flask away.

They trooped into the cave entrance.  The chamber was a rough circle about forty feet in diameter, with passages leading away from it straight ahead, and to the left and right.  Olgar wandered up to the passage directly ahead, squinting into the darkness to see what was ahead.

“There’s four figures ‘bout sixty feet up,” he whispered.  “Uh-oh, they’re chargin!”

He pulled his sword free in time to dispatch the first lizardlike creature as it sprinted from the darkened passage.  A stench hit his nostrils – troglodyte!  Wodyn quickly joined the melee, and Belarn tumbled for all he was worth, and the lizards were soon dispatched, with the party barely breaking a sweat.

“Guess they di’n wan’ t’ talk,” Olgar smirked.  “Good fight.  Guess tha’s one o’ th’ critters tha’s been pesterin’ the village.”

They proceeded down the passage with caution – due caution, as it turned out, as a fish-like creature jumped from the shadows to gore Wodyn with a trident.  A single blow from the big man’s axe dispatched the creature.

“Sahuagin,” Wodyn said.  “That’s two types of creatures now.  What’s this?  It’s wearing manacles.  Looks like it was an escaped prisoner.”

The others shook their heads at the mystery – until they turned into the chamber just down the passage, where four more sahuagin were shackled to the wall.  

“Strange,” Olgar observed.  “Iff’n they’re raid’n th’ docks, what’re they doin’ tied up?  Should we kill ‘em ‘re let ‘em go.  That first bugger wasn’t too friendly.”

Wodyn tried to make signs to communicate with the creatures, to no effect.  Finally, he and Olgar went back to the entrance cave, and returned bearing a hacked troglodyte body.  The fish-men smiled, and soon a bit of pidgin hand-talk established a truce.  Belarn picked the locks on the shackles, and once the fish-men were free, they sprinted away, splashing into a pool of water where the passage dead-ended just beyond the prison chamber.

“Ungrateful bastiches,” Olgar observed.

There was no following the passage further – it quickly descended to depths deeper that they were willing to explore.  Following one side passage, they found one empty chamber, a recently-used but empty torture chamber, and another small nest of troglodytes.  

Charging, each of the party took one lizard head-to-head, with the valorous Strithe cornering three all by himself.  Olgar, Wodyn, and Belarn quickly dispatched their respective lizards, while Strithe was obviously having some difficulty.  Olgar moved behind him, whispering encouragement and propping the elf up with his healing wand, and soon Strithe had dispatched his share of the creatures.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” was all Olgar had to say.

They continued exploring cave passages, finding another that dead-ended into a deep pool.  Just at the edge of their light, they could see armed sahuagin waiting with pointed-toothed grins.

“I’m nae fightin’ un’er water,” Olgar protested, “Not wit’ me steel bathin’ suit here.”  He slapped his banded mail.  “Let ‘em rot.”

“Maybe we can just collapse the tunnel on them,” Belarn suggested.

“Prob’ly got an underwater exit t’ the ocean,” Olgar speculated, shaking his head.

“You forget, we’re right under the inn,” Wodyn said.  “I doubt the town would be too happy about that idea.  Still we’ll suggest it.  I’m not going to go fight fish-critters underwater.”

They explored the last branch of the passage, finding that this, too, ended in a water-filled passage.  Strithe quickly noticed, though, that the water was only chest-deep – for him.

“You ‘n Wodyn go explore,” Olgar offered, “the runt ‘n I ‘ll stay ‘ere.”

Wodyn and Strithe waded into the water, quickly disappearing down the passage.  They returned a short while later to report that the passage rose back up to a dry area about a hundred feet down, and opened into a chamber.

“Fair enough,” Olgar grumbled.  Perched ignominiously on Wodyn’s shoulders, he and Belarn were carried like luggage through the dripping passage to the dry cavern.

“Nothing,” Olgar observed.  The cavern was empty.

“Not quite,” Belarn whispered, “there’s a secret door here.” He played with a small stone, opening a narrow passage into a space beyond.  The rest of the party followed, clustering onto a narrow ledge that overlooked a large pool over sixty feet across.  By the light of their torches, and with the aid of Olgar’s night vision, they could see that the clear waters of the pool were over fifteen feet deep.

The bottom glinted from the reflections of a pile of loosely scattered gold coins, that barely covered an untarnished suit of plate armor and a few other shapes.  Olgar pointed them out to the others.

“’Course, that fish the size of a barn might give us some trouble,” he remarked matter of factly.  There was indeed a fish nearly the size of a barn resting at the bottom of the pool.  Forty feet long and ten feet wide, if it was an inch, it had three large strangely shaped eyes and four long whip-like tentacles.

“How’d it get in?” Olgar whispered to Wodyn, “There’s no way in ‘er outta that pool.”  The pool did indeed have no exits, and the thing was too wide to crawl through the secret door – if indeed it could crawl.

“Dunno,” Wodyn remarked, a concerned look on his face.

“It that some kind of mind-flayer fish?” Belarn asked.

“I don’ care wha’s down there,” Olgar decided.  “I’m not jumpin’ inta fifteen foot a’ water t’ fight some fish th’ size of a barn.  Let it starve.”  He turned and retreated through the secret door with the others on his heels.  They spiked the door shut behind them for good measure, and returned to the beach.

Captain Luscious was in the common room of the inn when they returned carrying the head of the various troglodytes and sahuagin they had killed.

Olgar plopped th grisly mess down on the table in front of the man, saying “Well, there’s yer problem.  Ye got a whole mess o’ them things down there unner yer inn.  Best ye be collapsin’ the whole cliff on ‘em.  Oh, yeah, an’ ye got an aboleth down there t’ boot.”

Luscious gawked, and Wodyn explained their explorations in a more diplomatic fashion.  Luscious promised to consider collapsing the cave, but didn’t seem very convinced.

“Moron,” Olgar mumbled, and wandered out of the inn to get some air, while Wodyn continued negotiations.


----------



## diaglo (Sep 17, 2002)

did you finish Chapter 5?

did our heroes learn a lesson?


----------



## Olgar Shiverstone (Jun 17, 2004)

Since we can't do the same for Angelsboi, I've cast _resurrection_ on this thread as a form of tribute.  He was the DM for this little series of adventures, forever unresolved.

Some of his memorable characters can also be found in Banewarrens d20.


----------



## diaglo (Nov 15, 2005)

bump


----------

