# Dragons of the Elven Nights



## neveryours (Apr 1, 2004)

It was a fine day for travelling. The sun was shining, a brisk breeze blowing, and a few wispy clouds scuttling across the blue sky.

The gates of Elgarth Keep opened unceremoniously and a party of riders crossed the lowered drawbridge.

Riding in the lead was Durgan Snake (Rogue 4), an auxiliary in the services of the Knights of Solamnia. He had been tasked by the Knighthood to act as a scout for the party in this particular mission. Previously, in other missions, he had fulfilled the roles of saboteur and spy. His talents in such unconventional roles render him especially useful to the Knights.

The main body was flanked by six Knights of Solamnia, the symbols of the Knighthood apparent on their breast plates. 

At the head of the main group were two warriors that looked uncommonly muscular. A male, and a female. They had greatswords strapped to their backs and rode the steeds easily.

Taunus Goodbreeze (Fighter 2/ Barbarian 2) had left the Que-shu in his youth to seek the fame and fortune that he believed was waiting for him out in the world. He now works as a mercenary in the employ of the Knights of Solamnia along with Solvinius.

Mand Goldenegg (Barbarian 4) had arrived in Solomnia as the escort of a diplomatic party, representing all the Que tribes, to forge a military alliance with the Knights of Solamnia. A member of the Que-ti tribe, she had volunteered for this mission in an attempt to show good faith to the Knights.

A man wearing thick robes, that failed to hide his armour, was riding uncomfortably. Karavas Eversolemn (Mystic 4) was one of the healers that worked within the walls of the Keep. He is considered a guest of the Knights and reciprocates by making his healing talents available to the Knights and all who ask. He sees this as an opportunity to alleviate suffering outside Solamnia. 

Another robed figure was quietly studying those about him. Vilinius Muriel(Wizard 4) is considered an apprentice belonging to the newly reformed Order of High Sorcery. He believed that magic could be used to further the cause of Good, and sees aiding the Solamnic Knights as a way to further that cause, and increase his own magical potency at the same time. A weasel stuck a head out from the backpack upon the horse and sniffed the air about.

At the rear, an elven maiden rode gracefully. Upon her back was a longbow made out of wood, which seemed to shine under the radiant sunlight. Stark Soliante (Ranger 4) had come to Solamnia with a plea for aid from the elves of Silvanesti. To assist in ejecting the minotaurs who had conquered and occupied Silvanesti. 

The Knights were unable to put together a force large enough to defeat the minotaurs, without leaving themselves vulnerable to attack. However, they have volunteered information to Stark, about an elven artefact that was heard to exist in a place known as the Stone Bog.

It is to this locale that the party travels.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 2, 2004)

*Leaving the Protection of the Knights*

The party rode on for a week before coming to a large forest. The Solamnic Knights checked their steeds. The leader of the escorts, Chakrin, a Knight of the Sword, turned towards Stark. “Lady Soliante, we have come as far as we may. Our orders were but to escort you to the borders of Solamnia.”

Stark bowed slightly and gracefully slid off the horse, patting it on the nose. “Thank you for your kind protection, Sir Chakrin. We are grateful for it. Unlike the rest of my Silvanesti kin, I have no talent for pretty words nor long winded niceties. I am sure that we may have averted many dangers because of your presence.”

Chakrin blushed. “Milady, I would love to go with you but my duties prevent me from doing such.”

As Stark handed the reins of her steed over to Chakrin, the horse gave Stark a sorrowful look and nuzzled her. “Where we are going, we will not need the horses. The forest is thick and I can discern no path for them. Besides, they will be safer with you.”

The rest of the party dismounted and handed over their reins to the remaining Knights.

Chakrin dismounted to accept the reins from Stark. “Milady, I will be heading back to Elgarth Keep. But I will keep the horses at the village of Ulstad. We passed by that one yesterday. The horses will be in the care of the village head, a man by the name of Nampf. You may reclaim the horses there.”

Stark nodded. “As always, I am grateful for all your kind help. You and your men are a credit to the Knighthood. We shall be leaving now. Farewell.”

And with that, Stark turned and strode away, leaving her horse looking mournfully after her.

Bidding their farewells, the rest of the party followed her.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 2, 2004)

*Ruins Within the Forest*

The party had been travelling for 3 days within the forest. They were relying on Durgan to lead the way. 

Durgan had with him a map. He had purchased that, with some cost, from an elven bard named Quan. Durgan suspected that it wasn’t even his real name. However, the man claimed that he came upon a dying elven ranger who told him about an artefact that he had been carrying. The purpose of this artefact was to save the elves and reclaim the homeland. However, the elf had suffered mortal injuries, and before he could elaborate further, he gasped his last breath. Hearing noises that sounded like someone trudging through the undergrowth, Quan panicked, grabbed the map and ran away. As he was going through some hard times, Quan decided to sell the map for some quick steel pieces.

Durgan spotted some ruins in a small clearing up ahead. A temple of some sort used to be here. Probably one dedicated to Chislev. All that was left now are a flight of stairs leading up to a squarish platform with 4 half collapsed stone columns, one at each corner. Several statues of various beasts and monsters stood around the base of each column. In front of the stairs, was what used to be a public fountain. Now, it only held stagnant water. The carvings had used to adorn the rim of the fountain were been weathered and no longer decipherable.

Stark suddenly noted that the forest seemed unnaturally quiet. The chirps of birds that had accompanied them for the past two days seem to have disappeared. “Be careful. The forest doesn’t feel right. The wildlife is staying away from this place.” She drew an arrow and nocked it.

Seeing no apparent danger, the party approached the fountain cautiously. Suddenly, a pair of stone statues, which looked like giant eagles, sprang into life and took to the air. 

The pair dove down at Vilinius and Karavas. Both of them reeled under the slashing talons and ripping beaks of the eagles.

A little too late, Durgan shouted a warning, “Gargoyles!”

The gargoyles continued their relentless assault on Karavas and Vilinius. The arrows of Stark seemed to leave only scratches on the gargoyles

Durgan coolly appraised the situation and manoeuvred himself into a position where he could give flanking to the barbarians. He adopted a defensive stance and begin to harry the gargoyles with his flashing longsword.

Taunus drew “Burning Rage” (his greatsword) and struck out in rage at the gargoyle assailing Vilinius. The magical flames wreathing around the blade seemed to echo his rage. The flames burst into a bright orange light and as his sword struck the gargoyle, the flames seemed to burn into its skin. 

Mand swung her greatsword at the other gargoyle. Her keen blade, which had taken down many before this, did not seem able to bite through the gargoyle’s skin as effectively.

Fighting back the pain, Vilinius took a step back. He gestured and muttered an incantation. And then, he was lost to sight.

Mindful of the talons of the eagles, Karavas concentrated on drawing forth his innate energies to heal himself. The cuts and slashes which he had suffered began to close at an extraordinary rate, with not even a scar left.

The ensuing melee seemed to be going in favour of the gargoyles, who had concentrated their attacks on Karavas. 

Out of thin air, a ray of scorching fire found a gargoyle’s chest. Snarling, both the gargoyles charged at Vilinius, who had suddenly reappeared some distance away. 

The gargoyles had inflicted grievous wounds to Vilinius and his faced paled at the sight of his own blood flowing freely from the many wounds. Karavas selflessly rushed to the side of Vilinius, and gritting his teeth as the gargoyles attacked him, he released a rush of energy to heal the wounds of Vilinius. 

The battle drew on with Vilinius drawing healing strength from Karavas. The attacks of the gargoyles were growing increasingly desperate as a simmering shield around Vilinius seemed to deflect many of their blows. Vilinius’ fingers were sparking with bolts of light that unerring found their way to the gargoyles. His magic missiles, along with the attacks of Taunus and Mand were wearing the gargoyles down. Stark, who was rapidly drawing and firing her bow, was chipping away at the gargoyles’ health. 

As Taunus was starting to feel the strength of his rage drain from him, he struck mightily at a gargoyle and Burning Rage claimed another victim. Taunus spun about and cleaved at the other gargoyle. The flames hungrily consumed yet another kill.

Vilinius seemed spent and exhausted, and was supported by Karavas and a very concerned Taunus. Stark started taking a quick count of the arrows left in her quiver.

Stark faced Durgan and arched an eyebrow. “Your source of intelligence didn’t tell you anything about the dangers we’d face?”

Durgan shrugged and smiled embarrassingly at the rest of the party.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 2, 2004)

*Brief Hi*

Well, I'm doing up this Story Hour mainly for the enjoyment of my players, who may like to see their exploits immortalised in text.

My friends and I had been following Dragonlance since we were in our teens and are fans of the Dragonlance series. When the D20 campaign setting for Dragonlance came out, my pal rushed to get it and managed to get me to run the game. 

Half of my group consists of seasoned players. The other half are newbies. The games started at a low level to get them used to the system.

It may not be much. Heck, it pales in comparison to some of the stuff I see written here. 

I would welcome any comments and suggestions. Enjoy the gaming.


----------



## xenoflare (Apr 2, 2004)

elves, elves, elves!

everybody knows the only races worth playing are draconian, thri-kreen and half-orc.   

but -snort snort- your kids did pretty good for pinkskins haha, it's great 
only one suggestion - ask get Loren a magic bow as soon as possible. she'll find that a lot better than not scratching stone beasts.. and the magic-user's probably the most seasoned player, no? just a wild guess hehe.

i can see all your DnD questions that you call me up for in the Story Hour. i.e. does the +1 damage from the enhancement bonus kick in when you fight a gargolye or does it just bypass DR etc haha. 

anyhow, have fun and keep on writing!


----------



## xenoflare (Apr 2, 2004)

*shameless plug*

and oh yeah. go read my homework, you!

http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=82570


----------



## neveryours (Apr 6, 2004)

*Not Quite Dead.*

It looked about the abandoned land. It knew this place once. It could almost remember the name of the place. It could almost remember its own name. However, that did not matter now. All It knew is now was its hunger, the ever present hunger. It was the gnawing hunger that drove it on. It was only a month ago when It had feasted on the sweet flesh of two hapless elves. Yet it seemed an eternity away. It was always hungry.

And as It shambled on, it saw a faint light in the woods. A light that It knew must come from a fire. And where there was a fire, there was something to eat. Seeing It move off, two other shadows followed.

-

The night was humid and cold. A mist seemed to hang about the air. The clouds had all but obscured the sky, leaving only occasional slivers of light to poke through gaps in the passing clouds. Solinari would be full and round were it visible.

Mand stifled a yawn as she stretched her limbs. Taking her turn at sentry duty, she did not expect any trouble tonight. After all, they had dispatched the gargoyles that had inhabited this area. She took out Sharp Edge (Greatsword Keen) and began her usual routine of oiling and cleaning it. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, Mand seemed to see a shadow move. She blinked and peered intently at the spot. It was a dark night and she could not see very well. The mist was not helping either. It could have been either her imagination or a trick of the light as some cloud opened.

As Mand scanned the area, she heard a twig break behind her. As she spun about, she saw horrors that seemed to materialise out of the shadows in the night.

There were three decayed humanoid bodies leering at her, their jaws open. Maggots living in their tongues seemed to look at her too. One of them was so decomposed that his left arm was nothing but strands of dried sinews holding the bones together. Mand smelled an overwhelming stench of decay and corruption. She fought down her nausea and prepared to heft her weapon. A ghast and two ghouls had spotted her alone in the night.

Simultaneously, the three undead launched themselves at her in a frenzy of bites and claws. Due to her natural alertness, she dodged all but three of their attacks. (Everyone loves uncanny dodge.)

As they struck and bit her, she felt energy draining from her. As she was gathering her strength to return a blow, the ghast bit deeply into her right thigh. The war cry she was to scream never left her throat, her shoulders sagged and she could only plunge the sword into the ground. (Fort save vs paralysis, passed two, failed one. Quite unlucky.)

Mand Goldenegg could not scream or fight as the undead started to gnaw into her flesh. She looked on in wide eyed horror as they rapidly tore off and chewed her limbs. She saw the merciful end coming when the ghast reached for her heart. She felt a pain in her chest and closed her eyes. The void was a relief. (After paralysing her, the ghast and ghouls set about with coup de graes. Her dice were not blessed that day.)


----------



## neveryours (Apr 6, 2004)

The next posts may seem sacrilegious to some Dragonlance fans. 

It is a result of my hero worship of Raistlin Majere. I have decided to include him into my version of Krynn. Just to indulge myself.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 6, 2004)

Dalamar took a sip of the tea. “I can see you do not believe me. I assure it is true. My old wound has started hurting again.”

Jenna continued to stare incredulously at the dark elf. “It cannot be. He is dead… What does he intend to do? Start a third Cataclysm.”

Dalamar cupped his chin in his fingers. “No. I cannot discern his motives, but it is not destruction or power that he seeks. He has tasted more power than you or I could even imagine. It looks like some sort of atonement to me. But I do not believe it is that simple.”

Jenna nodded, “Yes. One should not underestimate the Master of the Past and the Present.”

Dalamar leaned forward and stroked her face. “Is it not cool enough? Why are you perspiring?”

The sarcasm was not lost on Jenna.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 7, 2004)

*The Rebirth of the Orders*

Dalamar the Dark was a dark elf whose slender frame hid great power. His black robes hung loosely about him.

He was one of the most powerful mages in Ansalon. He had been slain during the War of Souls, and was resurrected through the intercession of his God Nuitari to the other gods of Magic. (Solinari and Lunitari.)

Jenna the Red was the daughter of the head of the Red Robes (Justarius) in the Orders of High Sorcery. They had a love affair that was as much about pursuing their mutual ambitions as it was about romance. It had been many years since the affair began, and Jenna had aged gracefully and was still a beauty to many eyes. She had selected a red top that seemed melded to her womanly form, and a skirt that fell to her ankles. The many bejewelled adornments and rings that she wore were undoubtedly magically enchanted.

Dalamar had been barred from the Tower of High Sorcery at Nightlund and now resided in a secluded grove of trees in the Southern part of Nightlund. His humble cottage is more than meets the eyes. 

Dalamar had issued a sending to Jenna requesting her presence. She had come to his study expecting anything but this.

Dalamar had informed her of Raistlin’s return in a most casual manner, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Raistlin the Black, an archmage who had risen to challenge the Gods, the former Master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. He was supposed to be dead.

Dalamar set his empty cup down upon a low table to the side of his chair. The pot levitated and tipped itself, pouring steaming tea from its spout. The fragrance of freshly brewed Yasmin leaves wafted across the room.

Dalamar smiled at the obvious discomfiture of Jenna. Ignoring the look of annoyance that Jenna threw at him, Dalamar took another sip of the tea. “My Shalafi is not dead. Neither is he truly what you might call alive. He exists, but is no longer merely mortal. He no longer has need of air, water or food.”

Jenna pursed her lips. “Is he a God then? That is what he has always wanted, yes?”

Dalamar shook his head. “No. He does not desire Godhood. He does not desire to be worshipped. I think he fears it would detract from his studies. He said that to be a God is to become. He wants to stay in the process of becoming, for to become would mean the end. I myself shudder at the thought of what it could imply. At the power my Shalafi will gather. His ambition is immeasurable.”

“Is he a lich then?”

Dalamar seemed to grow exasperated. “By the Gods, no! He is sustained by magic and force of will alone. The closest that you could think of him as being would be a magical aberration… If you insist on pigeon holing everything that you cannot understand. He is now a truly unique being. He has ascended to another level. He has taken to wearing robes of green to show his transcendence above the Orders.”

“Hmmm. Well, where is he now?”

Dalamar smiled caustically. “Why? Do you want to meet him?”

Jenna shifted in her chair. “No. Not particularly. No.”

Dalamar’s smile grew wider. “Why not? I’m sure that he would be pleased to enlighten you. I would’ve thought you would be dying of curiosity.”

Jenna glared. “True. But I have no wish to die for my curiousity.”

Dalamar took another sip. “Well, he’s moved back into the Tower of High Sorcery at Nightlund. He’s converted the Tower into his own demiplane.”

Jenna gaped, and then shook herself when she became conscious of the fact. She tried to recover her calm by smoothening her skirt. Thoughts raced through her head as she contemplated on the magical strength needed to complete that exercise by oneself. Not all the thoughts were pleasant.

Dalamar did not even bother to hide his smirk. “Well, the reason I’ve asked you here is not to discuss my Shalafi, interesting though he is.”

Jenna arched an eyebrow.

Dalamar continued, “It is to pass on to you what my Shalafi told me.”

“What did Raistlin say to you?”

“Disturbing things. He has informed that the Dome of Creation, that shields us from the vagaries of the Ethereal Sea, has been weakened and thinned. This is due to Takhisis stealing the world as well as the loss of both the powers of Paladine and my former Dark Queen. Though the Gods have returned, the other planes are now more accessible. Extraplanar entities will also find access to the Prime easier than ever. You might notice that if you were to try plane shifting now, it takes less effort.”

Jenna nodded. “I have found that I needed to draw less on my reservoir to teleport ever since the Gods returned. I did not know that was the reason.”

Dalamar nodded. “He has also instructed me to carry out certain tasks.”

Jenna narrowed her eyes. “What tasks?” Visions of Apocalypse come down on Krynn flashed through her mind.

Dalamar laughed as he read her thoughts. “He wants me to rebuild the Orders of High Sorcery. To hold a conclave, and reorganise the Order.”

Jenna nodded. This, she could agree with. It was what she and Dalamar had both been trying to accomplish since the end of the War of Souls. “Does he not know that we have been trying but have failed thus far? Those Sorcerers have their Academy of Sorcery.”

Dalamar smiled again. “They used to have their Academy. And we used to have our Towers. However, now they do not have anything, while we still retain our Tower.”

“Does he intend to re-open the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth?”

“Yes.”

“How then does he intend that we accomplish this rebuilding?”

Dalamar produced a scroll from the folds of his robes. “This was scribed by my Shalafi himself. A spell of immense power. It would enable us to rebuild the Tower of Wayreth. He has dictated that it be located in Nightlund. That the Academy be incorporated into the Orders. Neither primal magic, nor our godly magic can claim ascendancy. They are but different ways of manipulating the same force. The Academy shall accept and teach all who show the talent the best ways of handling the magic for each individual. Apprentices who pass the Test shall be named in the rolls of the Orders and join each Order as befitting their tendencies. The three Orders of White, Red and Black robes shall remain. Those who wield the Primal Magic shall be given equal standing in the Orders. The Orders are to remain apolitical and be a force unto itself. As always, our first loyalty is to be to the Magic and the Orders. The Conclave shall be reconvened with four representatives from each Order. The head of each Order will be decided within the Order itself.”

Jenna sank back into the chair. “This is all a lot to take in and accomplish. But, first things first. What of the Tower? May I see the scroll?”

Dalamar handed the scroll over Jenna, and she unrolled it on her lap. “This spell is beyond my, yours or even our power to cast. Perhaps we should keep it for a later time.”

Dalamar shook his head. “Do you not think that I have thought of scribing it as well? There are many who would die for this spell in their books. My Shalafi has warned me that anyone attempting to do so would undoubtedly come to a most horrific instantaneous end. And the spell would be lost.”

“I see. He does not trust much, does he?”

Dalamar smiled, and said with a touch of emotion, “He can be generous when he wants to. In fact, he can be anything he wants to. He is, after all, my Shalafi.”

“So what do we do with the scroll?”

“We will assemble a cabal of like-minded mages. We will hold the First Conclave and announce our plans to them. Then, we will band our energies together to cast and control the spell. The drain of this spell will be shared equally among all of us. I am aware that I am not liked nor trusted among our peers at the moment. I am afraid that it will be up to you to convince the others to join in.” 

“I will do my best. Though, I think that we should leave Raistlin’s involvement out for the moment.” 

Dalamar nodded. “I will study the spell and prepare the components necessary.”

Jenna stood up and straightened her skirt. “I will leave now. There is much to be done.”

Dalamar sprang up and encircled his arms about her waist. 

Jenna turned and kissed him. “Take care now. Raistlin is dangerous.”

Dalamar released her and she walked to the door. Opening it, she turned and asked, “Did he say anything about your treachery to Palin?”

Dalamar smiled grimly. “He said. I forgive you. But I will not forget.”


----------



## neveryours (Apr 8, 2004)

*All About Undead*

The ghast and ghouls snuck up on the rest of the unsuspecting party.

They singled Vilinius out, as he was the closest to them. The ghouls launched into a fierce attack. Vilinius’ cry of pain awakened the rest of the party. Vilinius was paralyzed, but the rest made short work of them. (Again, Taunus was the culprit. Showing that a raging barbarian, armed with a magical greatsword, is not something to be laughed at. But then, ghouls were never known for their sense of humour. The main damage dealers were Stark and Taunus, with Durgan moving about at combat expertise full to provide flanking and aiding. This has become the party’s modus operandi.)

After the ghast had fallen, Durgan looked about worriedly. “Where’s Mand?”

-

Stark found the mutilated corpse of Mand in a crumpled heap in the woods.

The party decided to burn the bodies of Mand, the ghast and the ghouls, after being warned by Karavas that Mand might return as a ghoul. As Karavas did not have the components necessary to ast protection from evil on Mand’s corpse, this was thought to be the best way.  (The party was lucky, I had a rolled a percentile die and the resident dragon with a lair nearby was asleep. In their state, a they would have been dragon fodder.)

After Karavas had performed the appropriate last rites, Taunus promptly ransacked Mand’s inventory and took what he wanted. (Greatsword keen, starmetal chainshirt  +1, Buckler +1) To the barbarian, Mand probably died valiantly fighting off larger odds, as good a way to go as any.

The party also discovered a bracer of armour +2 on the body of the ghast.

As they sat about discussing the next step, they heard the sound of something trampling through the undergrowth.

The party leapt to their feet and drew their arms. A rather lost looking dwarf crashed through the undergrowth into sight.

- 

Debra Stonaxe (Fighter 4) hails from Thorbardin. She had been one of the dwarves who actively aided the Qualinesti elves in their flight to freedom. After escorting the elves to relative safety in the Plains of Dust, she decided that she needed to learn more about the world. She is a supporter of the High Thane, Tarn Bellowgranite, who believes that the dwarves should not isolate themselves from the world. 

Debra and other young dwarves had decided that they would offer their services to the Knights of Solamnia for pay and to see the world. The party had found themselves in the Southern Darkwoods, when a dire bear had attacked them. They had split up and fled after losing 3 of their number to the beast. Debra was lucky to have escaped with only scratches as the bear pursued an unlucky companion.

Introductions were made and after finding out that Durgan was an auxiliary in the Knights, she decided to join them.

-

The party made it’s way to a pool, whose surface was totally covered with green algae, making viewing anything below the surface practically impossible. (By now, paranoia had set in and none of them wanted to touch or otherwise disturb the water.) In the middle of the pool, there was a small shrine which had already collapsed into rubble. There were no bridges or footpaths to get across to the shrine without swimming through the pool.

Then they heard a sound from the pool. They turned to see a mummy rise up from the water. It was a foul sight and the film of algae that enveloped it only served to enhance its gruesome look. Stark and Durgan despaired at the sight of the mummy.

The fight was fierce as the mummy concentrated on Durgan. Two other mummies rose out of the water one at a time, trying to drive the rest into despair. The mummies had another trick up their sleeve. Mummy Rot, which caused your skin and flesh to peel, then fall off.

Stark had been struck thrice with the affliction. Durgan, but once. (I ruled that for every Fort safe failed, the lethality of the disease get higher, as more of your body starts rotting simultaneously.)

The fight was long and hard, not least because of the toughness of the mummies. Despite flying into a rage and dealing out respectable damage, Taunus was nearly brought low by the undead. The party eventually prevailed, thanks to the healing arts of Karavas. (The man is like the Duracell bunny of positive energy.)

Karavas inspected their wounds and gravely announce that he could not cure it. They would need to find a healer to remove the disease fast. (Stark would be taking 3d6 of Cha damage a day.) Meanwhile, he would use a lesser restoration spell to keep the disease at bay. He could cast the spell four times a day, which was a bit dicey (pardon the pun) since they would take 3 days to reach the village of Ulstad.

The party promptly about-turned, with Debra and Taunus bearing Stark in a makeshift litter. Karavas fervently hoped that his healing would prove sufficient. 

After three days of hard travel, they reached the Solamnic village of Ulstad. The local clerics of Chislev and Kiri Jolith treated the festering body of Stark (her Cha was down to 1, a close call indeed) and the somewhat gangrenous right arm of Durgan.

Now feeling rested and bereft of her Cloak of Charisma +2 (Stark traded it in for the healing of the whole party’s condition), Stark was simply glad to be alive. It had been a close shave.

Still the task was not done, they had to return…


----------



## neveryours (Apr 11, 2004)

*What's Dragonlance without Dragons?*

Wrinesti had spied the adventurers coming from a distance. The young green dragon was also known as Green Death. She would wait till they came into the open.

She swooped down upon the party with a flyby attack, unleashing a breath attack upon them. As acid spewed out upon Taunus, Debra and Durgan, the party drew their bows and launched their arrows at the dragon. 

Durgan screamed, “Pull back! Pull back!”

Vilinius had already turned invisible and was swiftly making tracks, back to the cover of the woods. 

The party started pulling back.

Wrinesti arrogantly assumed that she had won the day, and was sure that the party was already in disarray. Then she saw the sharp features, graceful movements, and the pointed ears poking out of raven-black hair. An elf!

Wrinesti snarled in hatred. An elven raiding party had killed her parents. 

She circled and started her incantations for a True Strike spell. The spell casted, she dove down upon Stark and power attacked full (power attack +14). Stark cried out in pain as the dragon’s maw ripped into her body. The dragon landed upon the ground, her flapping wings raising the dust about her. The rest of the party charged at the dragon. Karavas, ignoring the pain from a claw attack, went to heal Stark. 

A melee ensued with Vilinius firing sonic Scorching Rays at the dragon. 

The dragon felt its breath returning, a familiar feeling in its belly. An enraged Taunus, dropped Burning Rage and drew Sharp Edge. Screaming a curse, Taunus held the sword the sword above him and drove it down with all his might. The sword cut through the tough dragon scale like butter and found its mark. The dragon’s beating heart was cut in twain. (Taunus critted and scored 53 pts of damage, dragon had only 50 hp left. Taunus was becoming quite a kill stealer.)

- 

After healing up, the party discovered a ruined tower that appeared to be the dragon’s lair. There, they found several scrolls of magic and some gold. The strangest find was an elven musical box with no apparent magic on it. Was this the artefact they had been sent to find? Had they been deceived?

Only one way to find out. The party started to make their way back to Ulstad.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 20, 2004)

The First Conclave was held on a deserted hill somewhere in Nightlund. A tent had been erected in the middle of a plateau at the top. No banners or streamers marked it. 

Three brass dragons and two silvers circled overhead. In the forests encircling the hill, four greens sat on their haunches, restlessly beating their wings now and then. Near a lake in the forest, a lone red nervously circled. Two blues, bearing dragonriders, were staying up an orbit away from the metallic dragons, but still within sight of the tent.

-

The assembled cabal consisted of twelve of the most powerful wizards and sorcerers on Ansalon. 

Representing the White Robes were:
Solamn Uth Irid – A Solamnic Auxiliary who counsels Lord Erhling.
Noneyes – A half elven member of the former Academy of Sorcery.
Gaston Emercrest – A barrel chested wizard with a greataxe strapped to his back.
Krester The Young – A sprightly old man with twinkling blue eyes.

The Red Robes made up of:
Jenna the Red – Daughter of the former head of the Red Robes.
Rikker Durnblade – Known to be a supporter of the Legion of Steel.
Saliant Evon – A sorcerer of little renown, who true strength has not been tested.
Utha the Blind – A blind (of course lah) seer who skills as a diviner are much renowned.

Chosen for the Black Robes were:
Dalamar the Dark – Former apprentice to Raistlin Majere.
Kirith Naylor – Formerly part of the Knights of Neraka.
Erwin Cort – A sorcerer known more for his wealth and extravagance than for his magic.
Insla the Damned – An infamous neocromancer. Destroyed an entire Que tribe as punishment for stealing a magical artefact.

-

The Heads of each Order had been chosen, the wrangling over and done with. Rules and laws had been debated and settled. Now, only one task still remained. The Tower itself. They had all seen the scroll and memorised the ritual.

The mages assembled in a circle surrounded by strange and unfamiliar runes. A scroll lay unfolded upon a marble pesdestal in the centre of the room. In unison, they raised their hands and begin tracing indecipherable patterns in the air. Each tracing a different, and apparently haphazard line. They started chanting together. The same words of power issuing forth and echoing each others’.

Outside, the tent could no longer be seen. Those of a good heart saw a blinding light where the tent used to be. Dark hearts saw an impenetratable darkness that enshrouded and hid the tent from view. Even blindsight could not pierce the veil. Neutral beings would see a shimmering veil with shifting hues that misted and obscured the vision.

No one save the Gods saw what happened. The twelve collapsed, unconscious. The ritual had drained them both physically and mentally. 

A discernable aura of power hung in the air. A tower had arisen. It seemed to be composed entirely of dragonmetal and stretched into the blue sky. The Orders of High Sorcery were reborn along with the new Tower.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 21, 2004)

A Promotion!

The party managed to find the horses that had been left with the village head. Along the way, they picked up another elven straggler. A dark elf going by the name of Windy, and a sorcerer by talent.

Windy had been cast out when he was experimenting with his powers and caused a minor conflagration in Silvanost due to an errant Scorching Ray.

The party headed on back to Elgarth Keep. The party took a moment to freshen themselves up and take a quick shower. They then promptly proceeded to Lord Gunthar’s office. 

The party was warmly greeted by Lord Gunthar. The music box was inspected by Lord Gunthar. After a while, he set the box down. “I have reports of an elven enclave in the city of Pashin, north of Silvanesti. Perhaps there will be someone there with the knowledge of how to use this.”

Turning to Vilinius and Taunus, he signed and stamped his seal on a piece of parchment. “Your terms of service have been fulfilled. Take this paper down to the treasury; they will give you your pay. The Knights of Solamnia thank you for your efforts and we will note your help. Should you ever have need of us, we will endeavour to aid you in any way we may.”

Taking a small metallic disk from his drawer, he presented it to Durgan. “For your service to the Knighthood, you are hereby promoted to Third Sergeant. Keep this as a symbol of your rank. I hereby instruct you accompany Lady Soliante in her travels and to give her your aid in restoring Silvanesti. Go with pride, for you represent the Knights in your travels.” (I’ve decided to follow a military hierarchy for the Knight of Solamnia Auxiliaries.)

Durgan nodded and accepted the symbol silently. The pride could be seen shining from his eyes.

Lord Gunthar then accepted the aid of the dwarf, Debra Stoneaxe, to aid the party.

A rush of air was all the warning given as a man wielding a silver quarterstaff teleported into the room. Vilinius’ countenance immediately turned solemn as the rest of the party reached for their weapons. Lord Gunthar raised his hands and bowed slightly. “Magus Tronde, I did not expect you so soon.”

The mage turned and bowed to Lord Gunthar. “My apologies for the rude entrance. The Conclave has decreed that the Tests must begin immediately for those who are deemed ready. This has been deemed to be a most pressing matter. Vilinius must return with me now.”

Vilinius nodded and stepped forward. “I am ready.”

Taunus followed behind. “And I will go with him.” He glared at Tronde, as if daring him to challenge the decision.

Tronde nodded. “I am sure Vilinius has told you enough of the Test. You may come if you wish, warrior of the Que-shu.”

Windy called out. “Let me come along. I too wish instruction in the Art.”

Tronde narrowed his eyes, as if appraising the elf. “Very well then, you may yet make a fine apprentice.”

Bowing to Lord Gunthar, Vilinius and Taunus stood beside the white robed mage. Tronde muttered an incantation and seemingly only twitched. The four of them disappeared in a wink and a rush of air.

Handing a sheaf of papers to Durgan, Lord Gunthar stood and gave a Solamnic salute. “Your orders and instruction are herein. Lady Soliante, I wish you well in your quests.”

Recognising the cue for dismissal, Durgan ushered the party out. Reading through the papers, they nervously discussed the next steps.

The party were to travel by horse to the city of Port O’ Call, where they were to liaise with a Captain Thorbridge. They will travel to the Citadel of Light on the island of Schallsea. Riding on the SV Indomitable under the command of Captain Thorbridge, they will look for Lady Camillia Weoledge, the commander of the Citadel Guard. The mystics there will assist the party as needed. 

The party decided to spend some downtime getting equipment. Durgan traded in his longsword with the quartermaster, for a rapier and proceeded to take some lessons on the fine art of fencing from one of the garrisoned auxiliaries. (To spend a level on Swashbuckler.) Karavas could not contain his excitement at finally getting to the Citadel of Light. (His player wants to get the Citadel Mystic prestige class.) Stark brooded and Debra proceeded to the mess, where she proceeded to quaff down copious amounts of ale and out-drinking just about everyone else. Both were destined for headaches in the mornings.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 23, 2004)

*Water, water everywhere, but not a single drop to drink.*

The party arrived at Port O’ Call and had little trouble locating the SV Indomitable.

She was a 3 masted schooner. One of the fastest in the Solamnic fleet, on a good day, she could outrun the best of the Minotaur navy. 

The bow was decorated with the naked, muscular upper body of some unspecified man. His face was handsome and crowned with a helm which sprouted wings. His left arm bore a round shield and his right lifted a trident. Of particular note was the crown, which had been crafted out of Thanoi ivory. When asked about it, Captain Thorbridge would only grin and remark, “Ain’t he a pretty boy? He sure fits her.” Rumours abounded from it being an illegitimate son from a tryst with an elf, to the figure representing some egotistical version of his self. Whoever, it is, Captain Thorbridge would lend no clue.

The raised stern of the ship bore the shield and crest of the Knights of Solamnia proudly. Below it, the heraldry of the Thorbridge family and the gilded words “SV Indomitable”.

Captain Thorbridge welcomed the party aboard and provided them with bunks. 

Debra was making no effort to hide her discomfort at being aboard a ship. Travelling above ground, out of Thorbardin, was bad enough. And now, this. Debra regretted volunteering for the mission. She swore that she never wanted to see the sky or sea again, after she gets home. If, she got home. She decided that her first priority would be to get drunk as soon as possible. 

Stark disdainfully ignored the curious looks of the sailors as they prepared the ship to leave. Never had they taken such strange guests on board. Many had never seen an elf or dwarf in the flesh before. She looked up at the crow’s nest, 60 feet above the deck. A good place for an archer.

Karavas was seemingly getting more lively and excited. No one knew why, heck, no one even bothered. Who can be bothered to understand that man?

The preparations completed, the SV Indomitable pulled out of port and set sail for the Ciatdel of Light.

- 

4 days had passed without event. Debra was either getting drunk or seasick. She contemplated tying herself to a mast in the vain hope of relieving the rolling motions of the ship. Trying that for an hour, it only made things worse.

Meanwhile, Stark was attempting her first try at seamanship. She was going to scale up the main mast to reach the crow’s nest. 

First try, climb to 20”, then failed, and fell. Karavas went to her aid.

Second try, climbs to 60”, nearly makes it before slipping again. Karavas went to her aid.

Third try, climbs to 30”, before landing on the deck with a thump. Karavas went to her aid again.

Karavas headed aft again, when he was sure that Stark wouldn’t attempt suicide again. “She’s like a bloody overgrown kender.” He muttered, as Thorbridge and the rest of the crew tried to hide their guffaws or pretend to look away. Stark stamped her foot, her face red. She turned on her heels and went below deck.

-

The setting sun reflected off the calm and tranquil waters. A stiff breeze cooled the party as they admired the magnificent sunset. The wind caressed the sweating bodies of the sailors.

Which is why the party was understandably confused when the ship suddenly rocked to port. To the starboard side, a giant squid rose from beneath the waves, it’s tentacles swiftly reaching out to grab the hapless sailors.

The surprise wore off quickly, as the sailors grabbed javelins and threw them at the beast. The party started firing with their ranged weapons. Thorbridge shouted a curse as he pulled out his bow. As the arrow flew, it sizzled and sparked with electrical energy, leaving a trail of ionised air.

Karavas was grabbed and lifted. Unable to break free from the tight and painful grip of the tentacles, he could only envision himself getting crushed to death. Thorbridge bellowed and unleashed a flurry of arrows, severing the tentacle.

The squid had grabbed a good number of sailors for lunch, but its greed was its undoing. As it tried to take more from the buffet table of a ship, the blessings of Zeboim seemed to suddenly descend upon the crew as a good number of javelins, arrows and bolts penetrated into its soft flesh. Small as the brain was, an arrow even managed to find it and mangle it. 

And so the beast did not have the chance to return to the depths and enjoy the fruits of its labour. Instead, it was hauled onto the deck and Stark started cutting it into strips for sunning. She had decided that the strips would make for some money as well as feed the surviving crew and party. She didn’t want any herself though. Stark was a strict vegetarian.

The dead sailors were given a mariner’s rest, with their bodies committed to the deep. Captain Thorbridge conducted a brief ceremony and gravely promised to see to it that the kin of the dead were taken care of.

On the sixth day, the SV Indomitable docked at a little port on Schallsea. The ship had arrived at the Citadel of Light, minus 9 crew members.


----------



## neveryours (Apr 26, 2004)

*Visions*

The party is ushered into the office of Lady Camillia Weoledge, the commander of the Citadel Guards. A veteran, who has seen much action, and survived an attack by the green Dragon Overlord Beryl. 

The Knight of the Sword was unsmiling and gazed upon the party sternly. “What has gotten into the head of Lord Gunthar to send you on such suicidal mission.”

Stark took out the music box. “Because of this.” 

Camillia asked unsmilingly, “What do you know of this artefact?”

“It is rumoured to address the balance between good and evil.”

Camilllia narrowed her eyes. “Really now? I see. And how is it supposed to do that?”

Durgan intervened. “We do not know yet. That is what we are trying to ascertain as well, milady.”

Camillia looked intently at all of them. “I do not know if Lord Gunthar has briefed you fully on what to expect, or if he even knows what to expect. Pashin has a garrison of Dark Knights that own the city. The elves have not been heard from since they were scattered from their homes. The elven enclave that you speak of might even have been rooted out and killed by the Darks and their erstwhile bovine allies. You may only be going to your own hopefully short deaths.”

The party was slightly taken aback by her outburst, but they did not seem fazed.

Lady Camillia let a satisfied smile show through before dismissing them. “You will find accommodation at the barracks. The Citadel is open to you. Wander as you wish. I will arrange safe travel for you to Pashin and a meeting with the Mistress of Light tomorrow. Until then…”

The party was shown the door.

-

Karavas could not sleep. He walked out and wandered about. Unthinkingly, he found himself coming to the Hedge Maze, a magical grove bestowed by the elves and created by their Woodshapers. He went in.

As he wandered about the maze, the symbols of the Gods of Good seemed to materialise and when he blinked again, they were gone. Each symbol brought with it an aspect of the Gods. Karavas felt the strength of Kiri Jolith, positive energy flooding forth from Mishakal, the power of the mind of Majere, Branchala’s divine music and the felling of being at one with nature, courtesy of Habbakuk. 

He had experienced something profound, and his previously atheistic philosophy was now being questioned.

The bushes continued to lead him on, parting for him when he came to a dead end and closing up behind him. They seemed to be opening up a path to the Silver Stairs, which Karavas had caught a glimpse of earlier.

Then it was dark. Karavas spun wildly, seeking the reason for it. An enormous dragon was circling overhead, blotting out the moonlight. The pathway ahead opened, showing an unlikely group. 2 Ogres, 2 humans and 2 elves were staring up in fear. The dragon dove down upon them and unleashed a fiery breath that left them all, but an ogre, lying in a field of charred grass. Karavas could only watch in horror as he stayed rooted to the ground with dragonfear. 

The large red then began to steadily beat its wings, and climbed for the stars. After what seemed like eternity, the dragon disappeared to a dot and then from sight.

What followed next was almost comedic. The unfortunate six were in various stages of injury. The frightened and surprised ogre immediately pounced on Karavas as the summoner of the dragons. Karavas had to convince him not to attack, while he went about healing the most injured. He had to endure the blows of the ogres while claiming innocence, saving the elves, humans and lone ogres. Then he had to intervene to stop the elves and ogres from coming to blows. He had to himself a few times, but he finally got the matter sorted out. The humans and elves gratefully thanked him and the ogres grumbled as they ambled away. Shaking his head at the strange events, Karavas continued for the centre of the Maze.

After a while, Karavas arrives at the foot of the Silver Stairs. 

The moonlight from Solinari seemed to be spotlight on the Stairs. The railings and steps made up of twinkling starlight that cause sections of it to wink out of sight and back again. The sparkling column rose up into the night sky, the end lost to even Karavas’ keen vision.

Karavas walked up to the Stairs in reverence. He had heard so much about the Citadel and all its wonders. He could barely contain his excitement as he started ascending.

The climb was long and hard. Karavas had stop and catch his breath his breath a few times. He was young and strong, yet the stairs seemed to go on forever. Finally, reaching the top, where the stairs ended in a small platform surrounded by railings made out of some luminous crystal, Karavas peered down. 

The entire Citadel was laid out before him. He could spot the barracks where his companions would be sleeping. The Hedge Maze was arranged in patterns where he could again make out the symbols of the Gods of Good. 

Suddenly, his knees when weak and his vision swam. Karavas grabbed the railings tightly and closed his eyes. After a while, he felt better and opened his eyes to horror all about. There were uncountable skeletons lying all around the stairs. Where the Citadel and the Maze once stood was a barren land of orange clay. Uncountable skeletal remains of humanoids, giants, strange beasts and even dragons lay scattered densely on the ground. Every direction he looked showed only more death. The ranks of remains seem to carry on beyond his vision. The sense of grief and loss was overwhelming. Karavas cursed his elvensight, for it only showed him more clearly this horrific scene. As he wept, Karavas staggered back.

He fell to his haunches and looked up to the heavens. 

There, another sight astounded him. There were uncountable legions of blessed creatures. There were winged humanoids with perfect faces, strange beings with the faces of beasts on humanoid bodies, beings that seemed wrapped in cocoon of blinding light that prevented Karavas from piercing their veils and seeing their true shapes. Metallic dragons of every type circled and swooped amongst the blessed celestial host. The host seemed to fill the sky with their numbers and there was no doubting their goodness. 

Their aura of goodness was so overwhelming that Karavas could not help but gape in awe at them. The purity of each and every Virtue came unfiltered and every sin that Karavas could remember was instantly regretted and repented. 

Karavas was still struggling to take in the Vision that he was seeing when a sudden drowsiness overcame him. He struggled manfully to overcome the sleep that he felt was coming over. The Vision was changing again, he wanted to see what else might be shown. Alas, his heavy eyelids would not respond to the weak commands of his brain, and as his eyes closed, so did his mind. 

Karavas fell into peaceful slumber.

(The visions I had prepared were of the past, the present and the future. The past showed the many dead that had served the gods of good. The present showed the servants that remained, i.e. the dragons; and the new servants created by the gods to replace their lost children’ i.e. the archons, and planetars. As these are not native to Dragonlance, I decided that this was an appropriate manner in which to insert them. Metallic dragons used to be the servants of the good Gods. The loss of many good dragons in the War of the Lance, The Chaos War and The War of Souls had finally taken its toll on their numbers. The Gods needed to create new servants to supplement their lost strength. I imposed a DC 23 check against extraordinary sleep. Yes, I know how elves are immune, but I considered this an advanced spell. The vision of the future shall now never be known. Grins)


----------



## Black Bard (Apr 27, 2004)

It's good to see DragonLance here on the boards!!
Congratulations!!


----------



## neveryours (Apr 28, 2004)

Black Bard said:
			
		

> It's good to see DragonLance here on the boards!!
> Congratulations!!




Thanks for the encouragement. Me and a pal are fans of the Dragonlance series and we started on the world. Hope that we'll do it justice.


----------



## neveryours (May 4, 2004)

*Good Revelations and Bad Manners*

The morning dawned early over the Citadel of Light. In a room within the barracks of the Citadel Guard, three adventurers dozed away. A sharp rap and a nasal voice hollering, “Breakfast will be served from now in the eating halls”, soon fixed all that.

The party awakened to find Karavas missing. Durgan and the dwarf, Debra, nonchalantly freshened up and proceeded on to the Grand Lyceum for breakfast in one of the communal eating halls. The ever-pragmatic dwarf and human deciding that nothing should be done on an empty stomach. Stark decided that she should go to look for Karavas. 

Using her tracking skills, she followed his path through the Hedge Maze which magically parted for her whenever she reached a dead end when following the trail. Whereupon, arriving at the Silver Stairs, she found Karavas sleeping like a babe. To Stark’s eyes, the Silver Stairs appeared as nothing more than that; a stairway made up of silver and gilded with starmetal, leading up to a look out platform high in the sky. A pretty thing, but nothing more.

Frowning, she shook Karavas. 

Karavas awoke with a start. For a brief moment, he saw the clouds form themselves into the symbol of Mishakal. He smiled and knew that the Gods were with him, though the source of his power was not divine. 

Stark prodded him with her toe. Her face bearing a puzzled expression. Karavas ignored her and gathered his belongings, which were neatly laid down beside him. The elf shot him a disgruntled look and opened her mouth to give voice to her questions. They never came out as Karavas turned on his heels and left without a word. A furious Lady Stark Soliante, emissary of the elves to the Knights of Solamnia, stalked after him.

(Karavas was roleplaying his Charisma 8 handicap. Considering how important Charisma is to the Citadel Mystic PrC, he wanted to take a character to had to overcome this disadvantage. Quite cool, actually. Of course, his wisdom was still maxed out.)


----------



## neveryours (May 5, 2004)

*Breakfast of Champions Special*

The party gathered in the main eating hall of the Grand Lyceum. Rows upon rows of tables which sat six on opposite benches filled the cavernous hall. 

The whole place was filled with the bustle and hustle of serving maids who set new dishes upon a table as soon it was empty. All in all, it was estimated that twenty thousand could dine in relative comfort. A large sign was placed upon each table stating, “Please clean up after meals.” Many of the diners duly complied, with a few inconsiderate ones who left as soon as their stomachs were filled. The group after had to do their own clearing up. Any ideas of grumbles that could lead scuffles were put paid to by the conspicuous Citadel Guards, armed with saps and swords. The variety of dishes available was staggering. The mixed aromas of the food set mouths salivating. The food wasn’t gourmet fare, but it was good and hot. Much better than the insipid fare that some inns serve up. The party had to wait for a group of pilgrims to finish before they could start.  There wasn’t a single table empty. Well expected when you arrive during peak periods. (This is, perhaps, the largest buffet eatery in all of Ansalon, no tips necessary too.) They produced tokens given to them by the Citadel Guards. (A whole day token would cost 1 steel piece. Quite a bargain really.)

As soon as they had finished a most satisfying and varied breakfast, a brown robed man who had been watching them, approached. His face was and had the look of a scholarly type. “Good morn, dear sirs and madams, I will escort you to the Audience hall for your appointment with the Mistress of Light.”

(Varied breakfast 
Stark - 	Crispy vegetable salad, tossed with nuts, raisins and basil
	Baguette-like bread with garlic, herbs and cheese
	Fried mushrooms
Goat’s milk for strong bones, mixed in with hot chocolate. 

Durgan -	Goat’s milk for strong bones
	Freshly caught catfish, barbecued with 11 secret herbs and spices
	Salad, Waldorf style
	Noodles with chicken in dark sauce

Karavas- Fried Mushrooms
	Salad, Caesar’s style
	Braised side of duck
	Earl Grey Tea

Debra-	Braised Side of Duck
	Barbecued Freshly caught fish
	Smoked Veal
	Roasted Pig’s Trotters
	Fried Chicken done to a nice golden colour
	Noodles with shrimps in white sauce
	Dwarven ale to wash down the fats
	Dwarven spirits to complete that after-meal feel-good vibe)


----------



## neveryours (May 16, 2004)

*The journey begans*.

The party were dwarfed before a pair of great bronze doors. Their attention was caught the life-like motifs panelled upon the doors, detailing the life of Goldmoon on the left and the teachings of Mishakal on the right. Karavas’ eyes shone with a profound reverence. He could barely bring himself to draw a breath.

Slowly, silently, as if not to disturb the aura of peace, the doors swung open.

The hall was enormous. The windows on both sides started from the floors and rose to meet the ceilings. They were separated only by pillars of pure white marble. Daylight streamed it in through them and filled the hall, blessing it with warmth that was not stifling. The white marble floors reflected the light onto the tall ceilings, casting a seemingly divine light throughout the room.

At the very end of the long hallway stood a small table upon which was laid the contents of a simple breakfast. A group dressed in white robes stood beside, seemingly engaged in a discussion. 

Seeing the party, a tall balding man beckoned to them.

The party approached the group and saw a kender, two men and a beautiful brunette. 

Stepping forward, the tall man bowed. “Ah, the adventurers that Lady Camillia had mentioned. It is my pleasure to meet you. I am Caleb Whind. Let me introduce you to the Mistress of the Citadel.”

The kender bowed and smiled beatifically at them. She was aged, but her eyes spoke of a serenity, and compassion that did not seem to come naturally to kenders. “I am Blister Nimblefingers, the current Mistress of Light. But let us dispense with such formalities and do tell me of your selves.” Her gaze seemed to linger on Karavas. The kender did not have the ways usual of kender and her solemn nature soon revealed her to be one of the afflicted. 


At this point, the doors swung open to admit Lady Camillia along with four other ranking Knights of Solomnia. A conference was begun on ways to assist the party. 

Wind walk would be cast upon the party with the prayers of Brudder Noul, a cleric of Habakkuk. They would be dressed in white robes to help disguise themselves as clouds. Nondescript brown travelling robes would be provided to them so that they might blend in. 

Blister turned to Karavas. “I see the mark upon you. All who are Mystics of the Citadel would too see the mark upon your forehead. In your heart you are one of us. The Citadel has chosen you. Would you stay to learn here?”

Karavas bowed reverently. “I do thank you deeply for the offer. But my place is with these people, and they will need my help.” 
She smiled up at him. “Yes, learning and helping others may be done outside these grounds.” Wistfully, she added, “I wish that I could join you as well. We each must serve our place. May the Gods watch over you.”

The tall balding figure of Brudder Noul interrupted. “We should proceed to the pond in the Hedge Maze, There I will call upon the blessings of Habakkuk to see you swiftly and safely to your destination.”

And so the party followed him out.


----------



## neveryours (Jun 20, 2004)

The party was led to a pond in the middle of the Maze. Brother Noul drew a breath and then started to pray to his deity for the power he would need to send the party on their way.

The party was transformed into insubstantial cloud-like figures that could speed across the landscape. Soon, they sighted the town of Pashin.

Pashin was situated in the nation of Khur and was nominally under Khurish rule. It lay close to the ogre nation of Blode and the foul swamp of Onysablet. However, a legion of Dark Knights under General Dogah had now become the de-facto rulers. The Mayor of Pashin had been trying to send messengers to the Khurish monarchy; all of whom have been intercepted and slain by the Dark Knights.

The party decided to be inconspicuous in their approach. Drawing the hoods of their travelling robes up, they attempted to disguise themselves as travel-worn sell swords for merchant caravans. Stark even smeared mud on her face in an attempt to hide her elven features, which would mark her for death in a town of Dark Knights.

The sun was setting as the party arrived upon the outskirts of Pashin. They navigated the slums and found their way to the town’s gates. It was manned by the Knights. The adventurers elected to circumvent the gates, and enter the town through stealthier means, not wanting to test the effectiveness of their disguises against the detective abilities of the sentries at the gates.

The wall seemed to be ill-maintained and even crumbling in some places. As they walked, they noticed a dark shadow observing them from the shanty town outside the walls. The party affected a brief chase only to lose the person in the cluttered shadows of the slum.

Giving up, they returned to the walls, and saw a crack that appeared large enough for a person to squeeze through. As, the approached the cracks, three men stepped out of the shadows, leering and brandishing shortswords.

The one in the middle, apparently their leader, stepped forward and snarled, “Hand over your belongings or else…” And he waved his sword menacingly. 

Stark’s hands began to instinctively reach for her bow. However, she restrained them. “I’ll so get them if this goes badly, in any other situation, they’d be dead by now.”
Muttering darkly, she spotted 4 crossbows silhouetted in the dying light. 

Durgan had also noted the snipers on the roof the squalid house beside them. He strode forward and grinned. “Here, we want no trouble. Take this and have yourselves a good time.” He tossed them a bag clinking with steel pieces.

The man went forward to pick up the bag, opening it, he squinted. “This ain’t even enough to cover our troubles. Now, I’m sure that you have more where that came from.” The men advanced on him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Durgan noticed the crossbows pointed his way.

Grinning disarmingly, Durgan motioned for Debra to approach. “I’ll need that bag of steel that you have.” The dwarf grudgingly handed the bag over, scowling all the while. “That’s fifty steel pieces in there.” She grumbled audibly, stomping her feet in indignation.

Durgan tossed the bag to the men. “That’s all we have.”

The greed apparent in their eyes, the thugs grabbed the bag. “Come on! You must have more.” 

Stark narrowed her eyes and surreptitiously moved right hand to the quiver. Durgan shook his head. “That is all we have, truly. Now can we pass? You can go to your merry-making and we can be on our way. The only things we have left are our weapons.” Debra grinned wickedly and shrugged her shoulders, emphasising the dwarven waraxe upon her back.

The hint was not lost upon the thugs who by all standards already had done a good night’s work. The leader bowed extravagantly. “We thank you for your gift and bid you a good time in Pashin.”

Stark bristled. If they were not worried about alerting the town guards and thus the Dark Knights, the party would’ve killed the lot of those thugs. As they squeezed through the crack, Stark reminded herself that the restoration of the elven home came first and foremost.

Karavas, who had remained quiet all this time, let out a sigh. "I'm glad we avoided any bloodshed."


----------



## neveryours (Jun 25, 2004)

Making their way through the maze of alleyways, they again spotted the shadowy figure tailing them. Attempts to chase down the figure came up futile as it somehow always managed to keep out of their sight and disappear into the shadows. 

Giving up the chase, the party walked towards the main streets, catching their breaths back. They had just caught sight of the main thoroughfare when a pretty half-elf with a slim figure approached Durgan. “Hey there, pretty boy. Need any company tonight?”

Durgan couldn’t help but smile at the svelte figure of the courtesan as she sashayed to his side. Stark and Karavas levelled pitying glances at the young woman. Stark somewhat more discreetly, and Karavas somewhat more openly. 

She smiled at Durgan with beguiling sincerity. “My name is Dove, and it’s my pleasure to meet you.”

At this moment, three brutish characters descended upon the alleyway. The one leading them had a scar upon the left side of his face, giving him a sinister look. 

Shouting and readying their clubs, the goons advanced. “Hey Dove, you’ve been tarrying with Blackbird’s payment long enough. Hand over the steel now or you be sure you gonna get it from us!” They began batting their clubs against the palms of their hands.

The half-elf fell to her knees. “It’s been a poor week for me sirs. I haven’t been able to earn anything to feed myself, much less pay Blackbird. Please, just give me a little more time.”

The scarred man stepped forward, grinning menacingly. “Oh you can go crawling to Blackbird and ask him for time yourself. After, we’ve broken both your kness.”

Durgan stepped forward boldly. “How much does she owe you?”

Scar-face leered in his attempt at a beguiling smile. “Only all of 25 steel, my good sir,”

Sighing heavily, Durgan pulled out his already much-lightened pouch. “It’s as if a kender was following us about.” Emptying the contents of the pouch into Scar face’s hands, Durgan bemoaned within his heart that the party was now truly broke.

After paying off the collectors, Durgan asked Dove about the going-ons in Pashin. Dove revealed that the elves have gone underground, waging a guerrilla war with the Dark Knights and rescuing any elves caught by them. She also informed them that the Knights have been sending out regular patrols through the city to keep an eye out for Khurish nomads and potential minotaur incursions, as well as elven insurgents. She also told them of Blackbird, a half ogre who runs a tavern known as “The Wounded Crow”. Less well known, is the fact that he runs the local thieves guild.

Batting her eyes at Durgan, Dove smiled sweetly. “That was really nice of you to help me like that. A girl, that you hardly even knew. I could chat with you the whole night, if you’d like that.”

Sighing regretfully, Durgan shook his head as he noted Stark’s disapproving glare. “I’m sorry, Dove. It’s just that I’m a little busy tonight. Perhaps, another time?”

And with that, the party left hurriedly, pausing only long enough to say brief farewells to Dove.


----------



## neveryours (Jul 4, 2004)

Having found out Dove about the location of The Wounded Crow, the part decided to make some inquiries there.

Walking through streets sprinkled with the occasional merchant and street performer, they arrive at what seem to 3 separate buildings on the edge of a square. The two smaller buildings flanking a larger central one, and all painted in black. The windows were shuttered but the noise of rowdy merrymaking still filtered through the wide double doors of the central building. A large stone statue of a crow with wings outspread, an arrow piercing its left wing, leered forward like a gargoyle.

Otherwise the buildings appear nondescript, and simply seems to be a sprawling premise that enjoys good business.

“I suppose this must be it.” Durgan remarked.

Stark frowned. “I don’t like this at all, but let us get it over and done with. We need to more about the elves in Pashin.”

As the party passes through the doors into the interior, they enter what seems to be a waiting room lined with stools. A woman dressed in a low cut blouse and skirt slit clear up to her sides approaches the party. Her painted lips curled, brown eyes wide and disingenuous, her blond hair arrayed around her exposed creamy shoulders, she gazes at Durgan invitingly. “Well, hello there. Welcome to the Wounded Crow, how may I help you?”

Durgan attempted to put on his most winning smile. “Well met. My name is Durgan Snake and I am here to seek a meeting with Blackbird.”

The woman continued to smile easily. “Well, I’ll bring you to the tavern where you can have some drinks first. I’ll inform Blackbird and come down for you as soon as he can see you.”

The woman led them through a short passage to the main dining hall where all the noise the heard outside seem to have originated from. Leaving the party there, the woman hurried away. 

Durgan spotted the group of thugs that had originally accosted the party outside the city walls. They were seemingly intent on drinking themselves into a stupor and not being shy about it. Hooting and trying to grab the serving wenches, they were oblivious to the four large bouncers, armed with clubs, which were watching them, ready to step in if things got too far. Deciding to keep a low profile and stay out of the way of trouble, the party shifted to a quieter corner. 

After a while, during which Debra drank down copious amounts of dwarf spirits, the woman returned. “Blackbird will see you now.”

The party was escorted through a maze of passageways, where grisly trophies had been put up on the walls. Ranging from the head of wyverns to the ubiquitous stags, the trophies seemed to serve no more purpose than serving as aids for identifying locations; since, they definitely did not seem to serve any aesthetic value.

They were ushered into a room dominated by a large oaken table that seemed to have seen much wear and use. Behind it sat a large half ogre, on a stout wooden chair. He had the loathsome look common to ogre-kind. His eyes glinted with the cunning and his face was twisted into a shrewd smile. No doubt, his human half had granted him the ambition and deviousness required to climb to his present position. A flicker of interest flared in his eyes as he studied the party on their entrance.

Blackbird leaned back into the chair, as it creaked with the weight. “What is it that you wish of me, good sirs?”

Durgan bowed slightly. “We require information; more specifically, of the sewers under Pashin.”

“And how may I help you in this?”

Grinning disarmingly, Durgan shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “The word on the street is that you’re the person to go to for anything that needs doing or knowing in Pashin.”

Blackbird’s demeanour suddenly lost its friendly and charming manner. “You seem to know a lot, aye? Why does an elf, a dwarf, and your half-elven friend here want to know about the sewers?”

“That is none of your concern. We will pay you for it.” Stark stated flatly.

Eyes narrowing greedily, Blackbird smirked. “I do not know the sewers well myself, but I know someone who does. He’s been down there to explore before.”

“Well, who is he then?” Durgan prodded.

“His name is Skelterfoot. A half-elf who scavenges for lost items beneath, in the sewers,” Blackbird breezed, polishing his claws on the front of his shirt, then examining them.

“How much will it cost us to procure his services as a guide?” 

Tilting his head, Blackbird waved his large clawed hands airily. Well, nothing too exorbitant… Let us agree on fifty steel pieces – upfront - for the service of my introduction. And another hundred steel for each day of employment. 

Durgan blanched slightly at the sums being thrown about. He made an eye at Karavas, who simply nodded gravely. 

Shoulders slumping, Durgan said, with a sigh, “Alright, we agree to your terms.” 

Karavas’ face was devoid of emotion, save the usual solemn “oh-what-a-burden-rests-upon-my-shoulders” look as he drew forth a bag and tossed it onto the sprawling desk before him.

Blackbird grinned and reached for the bag, an eyebrow arched as he hefted it for a moment. “That feels about right. Well now, be back here at eight in the morn. I will introduce you then, to Skelterfoot. And he will show you the rest of the way. If that is all, I must ask you to leave now, for I have other matters to attend to.”

The party, eager to leave Blackbird, all but slammed the door in their wake. 

Hurrying through the maze of passages, they retraced their footsteps and emerged into the stifling evening air of Pashin. 

Still wrapped in thought, Durgan murmured audibly, “And now, to find out more about this Five Dragons Inn.”


----------



## neveryours (Jul 5, 2004)

*Soft music plays as the interlude begins...*

The Five Dragons Inn was located at the central square of Pashin. Five dragons were carved into the double doors, each painted in the colour of a chromatic dragon (red, blue, green, black & white). A closer inspection reveals different colours beneath the flaking exterior paints. The carvings seemed to have been painted originally in the colours of the metallic dragons (gold, silver, bronze, copper and brass).

Entering the tavern, the party was greeted by Emeline Yaseth, the innkeeper. The party sat down for their first real meal of the day and took rooms for the night. The expenses were all borne by Karavas, due to the relative poverty of the rest of the party. Durgan had developed an interest in art of the dances and spent the evening watching the streetside performers. The rest of the party retired and cloistered themselves in their rooms, each left to their own thoughts.

Morning arrives and the party ready themselves for the journey into the sewers.


----------

