# Curse of Darkness VI - The Valley of the Sun



## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

At this point in our tale, we trade DMs again.  Mr. M has finished his transitional tale, and is in fact absent from our table for a while. The Tinker now takes over.
******* 
 The group loaded up what they could carry, then wisely dropped a third of it before setting out.

The way up was indeed a difficult path. The torches that had offered such a welcoming light were somehow cold and weak to those trying to leave the underworld. And though they passed unseen by mortal eyes, the spirits of the dead were like the a river flowing down to the depths. Their passage didn't disturb so much as a dust mote, but the living felt the strength of that torrent trying to drag their own souls down to their doom..  

The pull was gentle enough if you stood in one place, but became a draining drag on those who tried to ascend. 

"It's like the winds of Carpathia.", Nedel declared, suppressing a shiver as he felt another soul pass through him. "Far colder than they should be." Yet all knew that the cold he spoke of had naught to do with the temperature. 

Penn tried to strike up a merry tune, but within a few bars it became a mockery of itself, and he couldn't maintain the energy to keep playing. 

Yet they pressed on. The downward journey had taken them an afternoon, but after what seemed like a full day of climbing, there was no end in sight. Finally, flesh weary and spirits numbed, they found a small niche where they could huddle for a night's rest. 

The torch light again made rest difficult, and the lack of firewood left their camp cold. The cold flames of the torches flickered and danced in a gusting breeze that mere flesh could not feel, making the shadows dance across the walls, and granting the carvings an eerie sort of animation.  

Their not-rest was undisturbed, however, and in what passed for morning in this sunless place, their bodies at least were refreshed. 

"Never thought I'd wish for the sun.", swore the Orc softly as he shouldered his pack. It bulged with treasure, wealth that he stubbornly refused to part with.  

Others looked at him and considered their own burdens. "We can come back for it.", Cassius declared as he dropped half of what he carried. But all knew that they wouldn't. 

"Something's wrong.", Sylus said, after half an hour. "This isn't the way we came." 

"There aren't any side passages.", Seeburn argued. "It has to be." 

"No, it isn't.", the Ranger insisted. "It's wider and taller, and there's a turn ahead. There weren't any turns on the way down." 

Sure enough, when they raised their weary heads to look beyond where their next steps would take them, they could see the path sweeping to their left over the next hundred yards or so. Turning around, the way behind them remained straight as an arrow. 

Still, they had little choice. They could press ahead or turn back, and they knew that if they descended into the depths again, they'd never have the strength to climb out. 

Now that Sylus had pointed it out, they could see that the way ahead twisted and turned in a bewildering way, sometimes even wrapping so tightly that they were sure they'd cross their own path, but if they looked behind them the tunnel always appeared straight. 

Once more they reached the end of their strength, and presumably the end of their day, without reaching the end of the trail. But as they sought another nook to hide them from the flow of dead souls, they saw that the path widened considerably up ahead, and they rallied themselves for one final push. 

The chamber they found themselves in was definitely not one they'd passed on the road down. It stretched nearly a hundred yards wide, and the vaulting ceiling arched beyond the light of the torches. 

The smooth expanse of the floor was broken by a number of symbols, none of which seemed even slightly important, for all eyes were on the occupants. 

Three men in the white robes that marked the Order of Hades stood waiting, along with a pair that appeared to be Marcus and Apellenea. 

"They're here to help.", Marcus said quickly, explaining nothing. "Do you have the item?" 

Penn, ever suspicious, stepped forward. "I have it right here.", he said, presenting his new lyre.  

Marcus looked at it, then shook his head. "No, the Betrayer's Blade." 

"Marcus?", Sylus asked. "How is it that you're here?" 

"There's no time for questions.", the Cleric said dismissively. 

"I'm serious.", the Ranger insisted. "How are you alive, to be here?" 

Looking perturbed, the Jovian answered, "We fooled the assassins with Penn's potion and Euphemia's wits." 

"All right. Why are we here?" 

"The priests of the dark way have agreed to help us. We have only until the new moon to destroy that blade. Even in that chest, it's getting stronger just by being around the living. It was forged by the dark of the moon, and if we don't rebind it, or destroy it by that time, it will be fully refreshed. That's fourteen days time, and the journey is too long to make without help." 

"Where are we going?", asked Penn. "We have no clue." 

"They're sending us to another temple, at the foot of mountains, near the Dwarven holds. From there we'll have to walk for a few more days to the 'Place of the Sun'. That is where the blade needs to be unmade." 

"Show me!", Penn insisted, drawing out a map. "Words are good, but we can't afford to risk getting lost or lead astray." 

One of the silent men in white approached. With a stick of charcoal he marked where they were at the moment, then placed an "X" higher up on the Italian boot. From there he drew a wavering line, following the path of a road that was already noted on the document. Then his line took a sharp turn off that road, and up into unknown territory, where he ended it with a circle. 

"All right.", agreed Sylus, committing the way to memory. "We can follow that. So what do we do now?" 

"Each of us stand in one of the circles.", Marcus directed, indicating one of the symbols on the floor. "The priests will do the rest." 

"What about him?", Penn asked, indicating their Orc companion. 

"Oh, we'll take care of him.", one of the priest said, breaking his silence at last. 

"Can I have my ring back?", the Orc asked, looking nervous. 

"In a moment.", Penn said. "You'll see him safely back to Jason and the others? I have your word on that?" 

"Of course.", replied the priest. 

The Half Satyr nodded, then turned to the Orc. He handed him his magic ring and whispered, "They're lying. Put it on and run for your life!" 

The Orc nodded his agreement, and did just that, vanishing in the blink of an eye. His running footsteps could be heard echoing on the stone. 

The priests were surprised, but oddly not upset. 

"Poor bastard.", Sylus muttered, shaking his head. "The fool ran back down the path. Ring or no ring, he'll never make it back by himself." 

The group was torn at this news, for while the Orc was probably an enemy spy, he had been their companion for days, and no living thing deserved to be lost in these cold depths. 

As the priests began the ritual chant, one thought entered Penn's mind: "If they meant to kill the Orc to power the ritual, how will that price be paid now?" 

Then there was a flash of heat and light, and the world turned inside out.


----------



## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

*** 
Sylus fought the wave of nausea that crashed through him, and managed to hold his ground until the world stopped spinning around him.

"Marcus, let's not do that again, real soon.", he declared firmly, his eyes scanning the shadows about him.

"Marcus?", he called again, more urgently. The room he found himself in had eight symbols on the floor, just like the cavern they had left, but only four of them held people.

"What in Tartarus was that?", Euphemia demanded.

"That's probably more accurate than you think.", Penn managed to choke out. "Marcus, what have you gotten us into?"

"Marcus isn't here.", Sylus said grimly. "Neither are Seeburn, Cassius or Nedel."

"What?", asked Apellenea in surprise. "Where are they?"

"I don't know.", Sylus continued, "but the floor is covered in ashes and dust, and there aren't any foot prints. They aren't here, and they haven't been here."

"They might not have made it.", Penn said in shock. "I think the Plutonians wanted to sacrifice the Orc Cleric to power their spell. Without him..."

The rest stood in silent shock at the thought. Had the priests of the Underworld really sacrificed the others to achieve their goals? It was exactly the sort of think they would do.

Then Penn began to laugh. It was a sick laughter, interrupted by much coughing and choking as he struggled to throw off the after effects of the transport spell.

"Those fools!", he managed to choke out. "They thought I had the weapon, because I spoke up. But Nedel was the one carrying it. If they sacrificed him to get me here..."

"Wherever 'here' is.", Sylus said, looking at the Bard in shock. "But wherever we are, that's where we are, and I for one don't plan to spend the rest of my life here. Let's find a way out."

Their first steps out of the symbols were staggering ones, and it took a few more before their legs began to work properly. They'd been near exhaustion when the ritual was performed, and the shock of the transition hadn't helped. Still, they needed to do something.

Pairing up, they began to explore.

"The floor is hot, but it's cooling off.", Euphemia observed as soon as her bare feet hit the stones outside of her ritual symbol.

"And these doorways used to have doors.", Sylus added, noting the still smoking timbers in the openings. "Whatever they used to move us here must have blasted the area first."

One opening lead to a collapsed stair, where thin daylight could be seen filtering through the rubble. Another lead to a kitchen and dining area, though the pantry was bare. The third one lead to sleeping quarters, stripped of all bedding and anything of value. The last lead to another stair, also obstructed, but more passable than the first.
*** 
It had taken hours to clear a way out of the ritual chamber, and what stood above was scarcely any more welcoming. 

"They said this was another temple.", Penn said, as he dragged himself to a collapsed wall. "They didn't mention that it was in ruins."

"The Vandals got here years ago, before Rome was sacked.", Sylus said. 

"Then there should be something growing here. Grasses, trees, something."

"There might have been, Apellenea.", Euphemea replied. "All these stones are warm. The blast must have covered the whole temple ground. Anyone or anything that grew here would have been incinerated.

"Then we can't stay.", Sylus said sharply. "That blast would have been visible for miles. And, if the Plutonian priests are planning on sending the rest of our friends, we don't want to be here when they arrive."

The other three wrenched themselves up from their resting places and followed Sylus, who at least acted as if he knew where he was going.

They wove their way through the remains of walls and outbuildings, heading towards the northern hills. They didn't stop until they found green, growing things near a small spring, and there they collapsed.

"We'll rest here for the night.", Sylus said. "Hopefully, the others will be here tomorrow."

Penn had begun to rummage through his pack, taking stock of what he had with him. "They won't be coming.", he said sadly, as he pulled out the darkwood coffer that held the Blade.

"I don't know if the Plutonians put this in my bag, or if it moved itself, but if the others were going to join us, it would have been left with them. So I think they're dead."

"But we still have to keep going now.", Apellenea said. 

"To Tartarus with the Plutonians and their quest!", Penn swore. "They hijacked us, lied to us and killed our friends, just so they could have their way. We could have come on horseback. It would have taken longer, but we could have made it in time. If those bastards were here I'd..."

"Kill them?", the Druidess finished, gently pulling the Bard's hands away from the chest. 

He looked down, realizing that he'd been about to open the box and take up the blade.

"If we don't destroy that thing, they'll have died for nothing.", Apellenea said. "We can deal with the Plutonian Order after we're done."

His rage abated, exhaustion once again took over, and Penn sagged back onto the ground.

Night came and went, and nothing disturbed them. 
 

*** 
[FONT=&quot]The winter sky loomed threatening as the companions made their way northward. The mountains ahead were covered in white, and they knew that the next bit of winter that swept their way would make the mountain roads impassible.

"Penn, why don't you wrap up?', Apellenea asked as she pulled her cloak tighter.

"I can't.", the Bard replied. "Most of my traveling gear is still on my horse, down south. I'll have to wait until we find a town."

"Well, a hot meal will help.", she said, evoking a bitter laugh from Penn.

"You don't have any food either?", Euphemia asked, unsurprised.

"I travel light.", came the reply. "I didn't expect to be underground for days, and I certainly didn't expect rain or snow while I was down there."

"Can't you do something about that? You have that magic thing you do."

"I can get us drunk, if you think that will help.", the Bard laughed. "Fed? That's another problem."

"Well, the hunting will be poor this high up and this late in the season", Sylus said, "but I'll see if I can tag us a rabbit or two. We'll roast them, and that will help."

The Ranger was as good as his word, and they ate fairly well that evening.
***
The next day saw a turn in their fortunes as they encountered a shepherd and his flock, a Dwarven boy, judging by the thin wisp of a beard.

"Halloo", called Sylus as they approached. 

"Welcomen, froinden.", replied the lad, his Imperial heavily accented with his native Dwarven tongue. 

"Can you tell us where the nearest town is?", Penn asked. "One where we can get some horses."

The boy had started to point east, then hesitated. "There aren't any horses.", he said sadly. "They were all taken by the armies years ago, and we haven't had any since."

"Well, that's all right. A good night at the inn, a drink by a roaring fire. It's all good."

And again the lad looked crestfallen. "There isn't an inn. We don't get many travelers. But I'm sure someone will have a room."

Then he got a curious look about him. "Did you see the lights?", he asked. "It looked like the old temple was active again."

"Temple? Active?", Penn asked, feigning ignorance.

"Aye. There's a temple, maybe a day's walk south. Every once in a while the whole place lights up the sky. You can see it from here, even at mid day."

"Well, we're coming from up Rome.", Penn said evasively. "And we didn't see any lights. Must have missed it."

"Ah, too bad. I'd like to be there, just once, when it happens. It would be a wonderful sight."

They nodded, thanked the lad, and headed off to the east.
***
"Sorry, but we have no room.", said the fourth homesteader they'd met. It was obvious that the group's outlandish appearance was the reason, but everyone was too polite to actually say anything. Like many Dwarves, the farmers here felt no kinship with the Elves, and half of the remaining companions were clearly of the forest folk.

"We have a barn you can use.", the lady of the house added. "There's room in the loft."

"Blessings upon you dear lady.", Penn said happily, and followed as they were lead past her scowling husband to the building in question.

The building was clean, obviously used for storage rather than livestock, and they quickly settled in.

"How can we thank you?", Penn asked, using all of his charm. "I see that your trade is in wool. Is there anything we might do to help you with that craft."

"Not unless you've a steady hand with the loom or wheel.", the woman laughed. "Or perhaps you can keep the merchants from cheating us this year. They buy our blankets for pennies, and sell them for ten times as much."

Penn looked at the bundles of wool, ready to be carded and washed. "How do you dye these?", he asked, his head filled with ideas. "A good color will raise the prices."

"Oh, we have local dyes, greens and browns. A bit of the wine red as well, but the good dyes are too pricey for more than a few special bits."

"It is the way of my people to make dull things festive.", he explained. "If you have but a few drops of the rarer dyes, the special magics may provide you with a bounty."

The woman pursed her lips for a moment, then made a decision. "What do you need?"

"Just a dying vat filled with water, a sample of the dyes, and a few items from your kitchen."

The woman nodded and directed him to follow her. From a small chest she produced several small vials. The first was an intense red, like a cardinal's feathers in sunlight. The second was rich, brilliant purple, and the third was the blue of a summer sky.

Penn handled the precious objects delicately. He took a few grains of the red powder and mixed it with a few drops of white wine to activate it. After carefully testing the mixture to ensure that it wasn't toxic, he then asked the farm wife's approval on the concentration.

Once that was done, a small amount passed his lips, and singing the song of change he touched the palms of his hands lightly onto the surface of the clear liquid. Color swirled away from his hands like smoke in the water, and in seconds the huge cauldron was filled with dye of a red so deep it looked almost black.

"If you have a second vat, I can do the Phoenician as well.", he offered. 

"No, I have just the one here at the moment, but I can borrow another.", the woman said in eager wonder.

"Perhaps tomorrow.", Penn said smiling. 

There were thick woolen blankets and a kettle of fine stew delivered to the barn soon after.

[/FONT]


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## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

*** 
The night was alive with activity as word of the farmer's good fortune spread, and neighbors took turns cutting wood and stoking the fires needed to keep the dye hot. Not all of the wool was ready to be dyed, for it needed to be washed free of oil before the color would take, but the farmer wasn't greedy, and begrudged no one the use of his dye vat.

Penn sat outside, wrapped in a warm blanket, and strumming at his new lyre. His music evoked no magic, for none was called for, but its bright tones turned the long night's labors into a festive occasion, and soon the neighbors were bringing food and drink, as well as their ready wool. 

The night ran out before the dye was done, but the companions' energies ran out well before either one, and eventually they did sleep. 
*** 
The sun rose well before anyone in the village did, for their labors were not without a cost, but the companions found a generous repast waiting when it came time to break their fast. Fresh bread, still warm from the oven, and a hard, sharp cheese, along with a bit of warm spiced wine to take the chill of the night away.

The young Dwarf in the work yard looked up from his task as they emerged from the barn. He was scrubbing out the cauldron, lest the remaining red pollute the next color it would be used for, and was glad of the interruption. "There were men here looking for you.", he said. "They were asking about, near sunset." 

"What did they look like?", Sylus asked hopefully. 

"Ugly humans.", the boy nodded smugly. "Big axes, big anger, small brains." 

"And they were told?" 

"To go away.", the lad laughed. "What would Elves and Fey be doing here? Besides, they were looking for eight of you, not four." 

"Well, if they ask again, tell them we went north and west.", the Ranger advised, a flicker of gold in his fingers. 

The boy waved off the gift, saying, "It's enough to send these chasing the wild goose. So, you're really heading back south?" 

"No, we're looking for the Temple of the Sun, east of here." 

"Ah, we know of that place.", their confident nodded. "It's the only valley around where the sun shines clearly. You should reach it in a few days, if the weather holds." 

"By the way, you don't need to worry about cleaning that vat.", Penn informed their helpful friend. "I'm going to fill it with the Phoenician before I leave, and the magic will take the red with it." 

The boy thought about that a bit, then shook his head. "Better to do the job right, every time. It's the only way to master any trade." 
***
"Do you think anyone will tell where we went?", Euphemia asked, as they headed out.

"I doubt they'll have the energy.", Apellenea laughed. "They were up all last night, and now they have to wash as much of the raw wool as they can before the new dye fails." 

"Oh, the Phoenician purple will keep. I just hope the tradesmen don't catch wind of what I did.", Penn laughed. "That's probably more of the finished dye than they produce in a season, and no doubt I've broken more guild rules than anyone has broken in a season." 

"I noticed you didn't fill the third vat. They wanted the blue as well, didn't they?" 

"Yes, but the blue is poisonous.", the Bard explained. "I have to drink some of whatever I make, and if I'd consumed any of that dye I wouldn't be here now."
 *** 
"You know we're being followed, don't you?", Euphemia asked, when they paused for a breather.

"Yeah. I catch a glimpse of them every now and then.”, Sylus replied. “Might be the ones we heard about, but it might not."

"What say we just wait here for them?"

Sylus looked the group over and considered. The road they were on was cut across a sharp slope, and was doubling back on itself as it climbed. There was very little cover for an ambush of any sort. He was better with a bow than blade, and he was the only real swordsman they had. Euphemia was a true terror at infighting, but Penn and Apellenea were all but useless when it came to a real scrap. The riders who followed looked like they knew their way around a brawl, and from what glimpses he had seen there were at least four of them.

"I think we should keep moving.", he concluded. "They'll catch us, or they won't."

"Won't.", countered Euphemia, as she looked back down the road. "They stop whenever we stop. They're following, not chasing. They'll hit us on their own time."

"Maybe we'll get lucky, and it will snow on them.", Penn joked. It was a sick joke, as seemed to match his humor since the temple, for while snow would make the rocky trail a nightmare for a horse, it would scarcely be any better for them.

"Let's see if we can find a way to lose them.", Sylus insisted. And so they pressed on.

Twilight comes early in the mountains, and earlier in the winter, but the companions pressed on into the growing gloom. Their pursuers were human, or so they had been told, and couldn't manage the darkness very well. Trying to ride or lead a horse up this trail would be suicide in the gloom of a winter night.

The companions finally made camp a full hour after the sun had set, hopefully giving them a bit of a lead on those who followed.

A cold wind blew down that mountain pass through the night, carrying the sting of ice in its biting grip, but the small niche they'd hidden in gave some shelter, and they kept their fire well stoked, so they held off the worst of the bitter cold.

The next morning began with porridge and hot tea to warm them up, and Penn managed to strike up a merry tune to lighten and speed their steps as they set out.

Still, they knew their shadows followed them, for there were no side trails or bypasses on this climb.
*** 
"Did you hear that?", Apellenea asked, her ears perking up. "It came from the woods."

The trail had broadened here, leaving room for a stand of trees off to the right, and a long tailing of evergreen that strayed downslope from there. The sharp whistle repeated, echoing off the hard mountains around.

Then a flicker of shadow crossed the road, and Sylus' bow was out in an instant.

From above came four winged things, birdlike in form but like no bird Apellenea had ever seen. Feathers covered their long bodies, and wings bore them aloft, but in place of legs they sported a second set of wings.

"They're diving out of the sun!", Sylus cried, sighting on the lead one. The shroud of gray that cloaked the sky was a blessing this time, for while the creature's instincts had had them dive with the sun at their backs, it wasn't blinding. What little sun there was had sent their shadows ahead of them, giving warning instead.

Penn began to play a different tune, laughing as he did so. "Let's see how they like a crowd!" And the breezes danced about them, whipping up a cloud of pine needles mixed with wisps of snow. In moments the swirling cloud had coalesced into dozens of people, each a reflection of one of the companions. And they were moving about, walking, side stepping and trading places with each other in a bewildering pedestrian dance.

A dozen Sylus drew their bows, but only a single arrow flew to meet the diving flock. Then twenty Euphemia' drew short bows and fired. Again, only one arrow flew, but it was near impossible to tell where in the crowd it had come from.

The birds pulled up in confusion and began to circle. Then the leader took a short loop and opened its beak. Lightning flashed down into the crowd, and Penn fell to the ground, burned to ashes. But fifteen other Penn's laughed and played and danced about, unperturbed.

The other companions saw what was going on and joined in the dance, stepping and firing at the birds while a throng of other archers milled about.

Again, lightning flashed down, and again a dancer vanished, but the dance continued.

Each volley of arrows was met by a matching volley of thunderbolts, but the archers knew where their targets were, while the avian attackers were presented with a myriad of possible targets. Occasionally their bolts would strike true, but far more often they merely scarred the road, or banished a phantom from the apparently endless gallery.

Finally one of the birds spotted a flaw in the performance, and his bolts began to strike true. The others soon followed suit, but the new revelation came too late, and couldn't undo the damage that had already been done. Companions stood solid, while birds began to fall.

And then they were done. The last of the strange fliers fell, its arc taking it beyond the cliff edge and away. The one that had fallen on the road was rapidly fading, returning to whatever strange world that had spawned it, for such beasts were clearly not from the realms of mortal man.

"What were those things?", Apellenea gasped, as she began to treat the group's lightning burns.

"You don't know?", Euphemia asked in amazement. "You've known the name of every plant, bug, bird, boulder and beast we've seen. How can you not know what those were?"

"They're called Arrowhawks.", Penn supplied. "Beasts summoned from the nether realms, if the sagas are to be believed."

"So this wasn't just a random attack?", Sylus asked.

"No, those weren't from our world at all. Someone has shown their hand."


----------



## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

*** 
"Our shadows are back.", Euphemia informed them. "You can see them if you look below. They're a few turns below, but they're coming."

"There's trouble ahead as well.", Sylus added. "Looks like it used to be a Roman holding, one of their fortified outposts. Now it's all ruins." 

"Is there a way through?" 

'Yes, but that's not the problem. Come and see for yourselves." 

The old fort was indeed in ruins, the outer walls broken, and nothing within had been spared the torch. And in the old courtyard stood a dozen statues, posed as if fleeing in terror from something.  

"Those statues don't have any bases.", Sylus observed. "Which means that they aren't statues. They're people, turned to stone by something." 

"Well, we can't just stop here. What should we do?" 

They looked the area over carefully, but there seemed to be neither rhyme or reason to the arrangement.  

"They seem to have been running, but no two were heading in the same direction.", Penn observed. "Still, whatever did this doesn't seem to be visible at the moment. If we move through quick and quiet, we may get past it." 

"It's some kind of bird, I think.", Sylus ventured. "See the tracks on the ground? Like giant chickens." 

"How fresh are those tracks?" 

"No way to tell. The ground is frozen. They could be a month old, or could have been made yesterday." 

"Well, here's hoping that the thing flew south for the winter.", Apellenea half joked. Then, as a group, they dashed across the open courtyard, gasping more in relief than exhaustion when they reached the far side. 

"You go on ahead.", Penn suggested. "I'll see if I can stir up some trouble for our camp followers." 

The Bard then waited while his remaining friends got to the next, and final turn of their climb. They were near the top of the world here, or so it seemed, and if they managed to pass the crest before the snows hit they would be clear. 

Below, he saw the pursuers turn onto the same loop that held the old fortress, and knew his time was right. His fingers struck a series of discordant notes on the lyre, and somewhere behind him a baby began to cry. Then a second, and a third, and soon it sounded as if an entire nursery had been roused. 

He nodded in satisfaction, knowing that this would be the most irritating sound a man could hear, and a most tempting call for any beast. Then he ran, as fast as his hooves could carry him. Looking ahead he saw where his friends had paused, and he waved them on, frantically. 

From within the fortress came cries and screams of rage. He had awakened something, and it wasn't happy. 

The climb after the turn gave the companions a vantage point, allowing them to clearly see the battle at the fortress. It was short, but vicious.  

A swarm of tiny lizard-like men with spears and clubs had poured over the downhill wall, towards the only people in sight, the pursuers. 

Tiny darts and hurled axes had flown towards the riders, striking several. Then there was a flash of flame, and a sound like thunder echoed off the surrounding peaks, and the remains of the lizard people were in full flight, back to the cover of their fortress home. 

"That could have been us!", Euphemia breathed. "If they have that kind of magic at their command..." 

"Then they can expend it on those little horrors.", Penn finished for her. "Let's keep moving." 

And again, they pressed onward. The road broadened out as they climbed, the slope softening as they left the steeper face behind. They didn't know how much time the little men had bought them, but they determined to make the most of it. Again, daylight ended before their trek did. 
*** 
The night air was cold and thin, and the long climb dragged at their limbs until finally they had to stop for the night.

Sylus found a clearing well off the main trail, sheltered from the cold mountain winds, but it troubled him. 

"See? There are those same bird tracks here.", he said. "Whatever it was down below, we're still in its hunting range." 

"Could they be tracks from the Kobolds we saw?", Penn asked doubtfully. 

"No, birds and lizards leave a similar mark, but a bird's foot is wire thin. I'm also seeing some spots here that look like something was dragged away." 

Where do the drag marks go? 

"Over the cliff edge.", came the simple answer. 

"Should we look for another spot?" 

"No", the Ranger said, shaking his head. "I've been seeing those tracks all along here. Unless we want to march another hour or more, any place we go will still be in these birds' territory. Their range may cover the whole mountain. We'll just have to keep a sharp eye out, and watch the sky as well as the woods." 

Nearby brush provided tinder and kindling, and again they depended on the cover provided to hide their fire. A dark camp might have been safer, but the cold of the winter night denied them that option. 
*** 
Penn shivered in his blanket, and struggled to stay awake. He remembered counting the stars on cold, clear winter nights, learning the names of the constellations and the tales of how the great heroes came to be remembered that way. But now such distractions were denied him, for the gray cloak that hid the sun also served to mask the night sky.

He might have strummed a tune to make his stint on guard duty less lonely, but his fingers were frozen, and the music might disturb his companions' slumber. As it was, he mused, Sylus' snoring was loud enough without his help. 

But something in that snoring made him tear his eyes away from the night sky and the path to the road. Then he was crying the alarm and drawing his blade. Long tendrils of green had crept in from the surrounding brush, and were slowly constricting about the Ranger's throat. 

Euphemia awoke to the sensation of a living strangling cord about her neck, and with instinct born of long practice she twisted and rolled clear. "What are those things?", she gasped, massaging her bruised throat. 

"I don't know, but they're going to be dead things soon enough.", Penn yelled, drawing a flask from his bag. "We can figure out what they are later."  

Penn's aim was true, and Greek Fire flared at the base of one of the plants, which sizzled and smoked a bit, but otherwise ignored it. 

Sylus' pulled at the vine which held him, slashing at it with his dagger until he was free. It slapped at him, striving to recapture its prey, and managed to wrap itself around one ankle. Still, he managed to grab his sword as he was dragged past his bedroll. 

Apellenea's hand scrabbled for her blade as one of the choke vines tightened its grip on her throat, but it was inches beyond her reach, and despite her struggles she was slowly dragged towards the cliff edge. 

"Tartarus!", Penn swore. "The fire isn't working. Maybe it needs something else." His hand found another flask, and he hurled it at the tentacle vine that held the Druidess. The vine convulsed as the acid blistered its surface, but it didn't release its grip. 

Euphemia sprang back as the vine nearest her twisted about, seeking to seize her once again, then drew and hurled a blade in one fluid motion. The dagger hit the twisting vine with a solid "thunk", but it continued to thrash about after her. "If we just back away, they can't reach us!", she called. 

"Easy enough said.", Sylus called, hacking at his fibrous foe with all his might. But though he struck solidly, the vine managed to turn the edge of his blade each time. Sap flowed and bark was peeled away, but he was unable to sever the grasping tendril. 

Apellenea was turning blue as she struggled for breath, and Penn dashed a second flask of acid onto her attacker, adding to the burns he'd inflicted before. The vine twisted back on itself, attempting to shield the damaged area from further exposure, and in so doing it released the Druidess. 

She lay there gasping, struggling to breathe, hardly able to move, but managed to find the magic wand of healing. The life giving energies flowed over her, opening her crushed windpipe. 

"Let's get her out of there!", Euphemia called, turning towards their collapsed companion. But something was wrong. The thin plants that covered the area were now conspiring with the tentacle vines, and had wrapped themselves around her lower extremities.  

Sylus managed to hack and twist his way out of the vine's tenacious grip, though he limped heavily from the deep bruising it had left behind. But there was no retreat, for the grasping grasses hedged him into an area the vines could easily reach. 

"It's like that 'rootbind' thing you do.", Euphemia cried to the Druidess. "Can you do something about it?" 

"No.", Apellenea gasped, pulling herself to her feet.  

"It's not exactly the same.", Penn warned. "It's moving us." 

And surely enough, it was. Slowly, steadily, the grasses were inching the companions towards the attacking vines. 

"This is the last of my acid.", Penn warned as he flung his third flask. Again it scored a hit, and again the plant writhed in silent agony, but refused to die. 

"It's got me again!", Sylus swore as the plant struck again. This time it caught him solidly about the body, and with a force that could split stone it began to crush the life out of him. 

Apellenea moved to him, praying as she went. She heard his ribs crack beneath the pressure, and wasn't sure what would happen if she healed him in that condition, but realized that if she didn't he'd soon be dead. 

Euphemia's barrage of daggers had taken a toll on her vine, and she managed to twist free of the grasses, so she was brought no nearer to her foe, but neither was ready to give up just yet.  

"This is all I have left.", Penn called. "Cover your ears if you can." Thunder rolled through the area, echoing off the neighboring peaks, as the Bard's stone hit. It was meant to deafen and confuse opponents, and he honestly had no idea what effect it might have on the plants, but he was desperate.

The two vines nearest the impact point suddenly went into wild spasms, and began to thrash about blindly. They didn't appear to be injured by the blast, but it was as if they had suddenly lost track of their surroundings. 

"I think they follow us by sound.", the Halfling laughed. "You've blinded them." 

The vine that was dragging Sylus suddenly released its grip, leaving him stunned but alive on the green. Instead it struck at Apellenea, who was well within reach. A wrist-thick loop of its length swept her feet away, and her head struck a protruding stone with a sickening sound. 

"I can't get to her!", Penn cried in frustration, his feet still bound by the entangling grasses. 

Sylus groaned, alive and awake, but in obvious pain. 

"Help her!", Euphemia cried as she herself slashed away with her last blade, trying to fend off her blindly thrashing foe. 

Sylus looked about for his fallen sword, but the mighty iron blade was lashed down by the grass, and he couldn't even get a grip on it. 

"Try the wand. It's in her hand." 

The Ranger saw the willow shaft in the Elf maiden's limp fingers, and grabbed it. "This thing doesn't work for me!", he cried, but he said the word of command anyway. 

To his surprise the wand glowed with its familiar golden light, and some of Apellenea's wounds closed. But the vine continued to crush and thrash, and however fast the Ranger could mend his fallen friend, the vine tore at her faster. This was a losing battle, but it was the only one left to him. 

Penn and Euphemia managed to team up on one vine, and were slicing and slashing at its base, where they had a chance to cut through. 

The grasses released their just the moment the first vine died, but it wasn't soon enough. Sylus was all but weeping as he struggled to keep Apellenea alive, and failed. The wand glowed when commanded, but the healing power would no longer flow into her. She was gone. 

He raged, taking up his heavy sword where it lay, the grasses no longer denying him, and in a mad fury he hacked at the thing with all his might. 

The plant was trying to retreat underground, but it refused to release its prize, and slowly Apellenea's body was being drawn into the earth's embrace. 

Euphemia and Penn joined Sylus, not realizing that their friend had passed, and in less than a minute the vine was cut off and dead. 

The third vine had withdrawn, pulled itself out of sight, but that was little consolation. The remaining trio sat around and wept at their mounting losses. 
*** 
"I know she'd want to be buried.", Sylus said, as they wrapped Apellenea in her cloak. "But I can't do it. Not here, not where those things can feed on her."

The others nodded in agreement, but could think of no alternatives. They couldn't leave their fallen friend, and they couldn't take her with them.


----------



## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

*** 
The funeral pyre for the fallen Druid did little to warm or light the bitterly cold night, but it was a fitting tribute to a fallen comrade. It had taken some time to gather the wood, but the result was appropriate.

The remaining members of the group stood in silence as it burned. The mountain winds howled as they fanned the flames, adding the hiss of wet snow to the crackle and roar of the fire itself. It took over an hour to burn down, but none moved until the last tongue of flame had flickered away. 

Then, abruptly, there was a secondary flash of flame, and the companions' numbers doubled. Nedel, Marcus and Cassius were suddenly there. 

And for all present, a voice echoed in their minds: " _The Sacrifice is accepted._"

Penn began to curse, broadly and loudly, which confused the recently missing members even more than their abrupt appearance. 

"Don't you guys know better than to startle us like that?", Euphemia asked, hiding away the blade that had suddenly sprung to her fingers. "Where have you been?" 

Marcus looked around, trying to get his bearings. "We were in the tunnel below the old temple, and the Plutonians said they were going to send us to another temple north of there. But this doesn't look like a temple." 

"It isn't. Where have you been for the last two days?" 

Marcus and Cassius looked at each other blankly, while Nedel said he had no explanation. 

But the new arrivals were quickly brought up to date. It was midnight before everyone got settled in to their new campsite, and the rest of the night passed uneventfully. 

Morning was a cold gray thing, and snow was beginning to fall as they set out. From their vantage point they could now see that the mountain they had scaled was in fact one of the lower peaks. The Alps of Germania continued to rise above them to the north. Their road, however, now lead more to the east, and they made good time despite the terrain. 

By mid day the snowfall had grown heavier, and several of them were beginning to suffer the effects of exposure. Penn walked with his cloak wrapped tight and a thick blanket wrapped over that, and still he shivered. Nedel's lips were slowly turning blue, and the only sensation remaining in his fingers was frigid pain. 

"Didn't you guys bring any cold weather gear?", Cassius asked in surprise. 

"It's on my horse.", Penn replied. "Outside of Rome, remember? I wasn't expecting snow down in that tunnel." 

"Hold up, everyone.", Sylus called. "There's a bridge ahead, and it doesn't look too good." 

The bridge in question was obviously of local manufacture. A proper Roman bridge would have been of stone, and solid enough to carry Legions easily. This one was narrow timber, and looked neither solid nor safe. 

Euphemia stepped out onto it first, taking a few careful steps then bouncing up and down on her toes. The entire structure swayed in time with her movements. 

"Okay, we'll want a safety line, in case someone slips, and we'll cross one at a time. I don't think this thing will take everyone's weight at once." 

Euphemia made it across safely, as did Nedel, but when Marcus tried his feet slipped on the ice, and he crashed through a weak spot. Only the rope kept him from falling into the gorge below. He strained and struggled to climb back up, but slipped again and was barely able to keep a grip. For a moment it looked as if he had slipped and fallen, but his fingernails must have caught on something. Then he steadied himself, said a small prayer, and simply finished his crossing hand over hand along the rope. 

The others crossed without incident, but a sudden cascade of snow from the rock face above slid down and took the already weak underpinnings out from under the structure, and it fell. 

"At least the riders behind us won't be catching up any time soon.", someone commented. And they pressed on. 
***
"I'm worried.", Euphemia said, as they made their way up the icy trail. "How are we going to get back down this mountain? We have enemies behind us, the bridge is out, and because of the Plutonian transport ritual, we aren't even sure which road to take?"

"Oh don't worry about that.", Penn replied in a dark humor. "We'll probably be dead long before that becomes an issue." 

"You promise?", chuckled the Halfling. 

***  
The snow was falling harder and the temperatures were dropping as evening approached. If the companions didn't find some kind of shelter, they might not last the night.

"There's something in the road ahead.", called Sylus from his scouting position. He held his ground and let the group close the distance. 

"Hmm. Yes, you're right, there is a head in the road.", Penn observed. The head, in this case, was almost two cubits in diameter and made of white granite. It had apparently come from a statue off to the side of the road. There was a mile marker next to it, with the measure marked in Latin, but an inscription in another tongue below. 

Penn looked at the angular writing and recognized it. "We've entered Dwarven country,", he informed the others. "This announces that the estates of Wilhelm Craghorn are ahead, and that travelers are welcome." 

"I could use a hot bath.", Nedel said, as he struggled not to shake with the cold. 

"I could use a hot anything.", Penn laughed in agreement. His laughter didn't last long however, for it became readily apparent that the Craghorn estates had fallen upon ruin. Statues lay toppled and broken, and the gate from the road sagged in place. 

"We'd better be careful.", said Euphemia. "Give me a minute, and I'll scout ahead." Then she began to dig into her small pack, sorting through several cloaks. 

"What are you looking for?", Penn asked. 

"Trying to decide which cloak will blend in the best." 

"Try the light blue one. I'll help.", came the suggestion. A few words were uttered, and the pale blue cloak was suddenly splotched with white as the magic took hold. 

"Not bad. I think I need to learn that trick.", Euphemia said in approval. Then she wrapped up tight, dropped down until she was almost on all fours, and began to creep forward. 

Ahead she could see the dancing yellow light of a fire, and she headed for it. The snow landed softly on her cloak, helping her blend in even further, and the only sound she heard was her own heartbeat, and the occasional squeak of her feet in the snow. 

There were outbuildings to either side of the main way, a stable, a storehouse, a low building dug into the earth that was probably an icehouse, and various quarters for servants or guards. But there were no foot prints anywhere to be seen. Looking back she saw that her own tracks were quickly being smoothed over by the blowing snow. 

The figures around the fire resolved themselves into humanoid shapes, large and hairy, more than half a dozen of them. 

Then, stepping around the corners from hidden positions two more appeared, closer, and looking straight at the stealthy Halfling. 

"Hey, look.", one of them called. "A snack." 

Euphemia stood up and shook herself off before replying. "You want the full meal? It's right behind me." 

The two hairy warriors laughed, then ran out into the snow, confident of a short chase. 

The little Rogue hadn't managed to live as long as she had by being slow, however, and was off in a quick-paced sprint across the snow, leading her pursuers straight back to her companions. 

"Looking for someone more your own size?", asked Cassius with a smile, as he sped out to meet the foe. 

The monsters made a mistake at this point. One pressed the pursuit of Euphemia and the other diverted to face Cassius. The warrior met the weight of the charge easily, then side stepped to let his adversary stumble past him on the icy courtyard stones. He slashed the Bugbear across the midsection as he passed, then carried the motion into a broad sweep that ended just above the belt line of the second warrior. Both fell. 

His cry of triumph was cut short however as three javelin flew from the darkness ahead, scoring deeply into his leg, side and arm. Three more arced through the snow, two of them impaling Euphemia's tiny form, while the third skittered away across the stones. 

Then, magically, all six of the javelin withdrew themselves and flew back to their owners. 

"We may have a problem here.", Cassius said, struggling to stay upright. 

"Then we kill them all!", Marcus declared. " _Titan's Stature!_", he cried, and Cassius suddenly towered above the field.

"You need another kind of help.", Penn declared, stepping forward with the healing wand. The blood flow slowed, but didn't stop, but Cassius wasn't about to let that stop him. He charged. 

" _Quarrel Accuras!_", invoked Nedel, and magical energy darted from his hand, drawing a howl of protest from one of the Bugbears.

" _Quarrel Accuras!_", came the reply from within, sending a matching bolt back at Nedel.

Mad music danced on the night air as the Bugbears met Cassius halfway, their huge clubs ready to crush bone. They never had the chance. The titanic blade cut completely through the first pair in a single swing, causing the next in line to hesitate for a moment. 

Then a pair of javelin lanced into the giant form, and Cassius sagged to the ground, his leg folding beneath him. 

"Oh no!", cried Marcus, as he raced forward. His hands glowed with magical energy, and as soon as he touched his fallen friend, life and strength flowed into him once more. He raised his huge head and glared at the ones who had hurt him, causing them to take pause. 

But the pair who were right there saw their opportunity, and it was all Cassius could do to parry their blows.  

Nedel and the Shaman within were exchanging spells, and the Shaman seemed to be getting the better of the trade.  

"Here!", Sylus offered, touching Cassius with the second wand, giving him the strength to rise fully to his feet again. 

And then it was all but over. As fast as the Bugbears could charge at him, he cut them down. The Shaman within called out something in a dark tongue, and two of the fallen rose again, only to be slashed and shattered a second time by the power and fury of the southland man's assault.  

And by the fire, a Shaman and his apprentice made a decision. They ran, as fast as they could, in two different directions. 
*** 
"You should be more careful.", Euphemia declared as she tied off the last bandage. "You need to wait for someone to heal you before you go charging in like that."

"He needs to heal me before he makes me the biggest target on the field.", Cassius countered, glowering at Marcus. The Jovian cleric lowered his head in shame, for he had gotten caught up in the heat of the fight, when a cool head was needed. 

"Well, we made it this time.", Nedel said in a mollifiying tone as he unwrapped his frozen feet. "And the Bugbears do know how to build a good fire." 

Penn carefully examined the haunch of meat on the spit, determined that it was a game animal, and smiled. He'd been afraid it might have been the property's former owner. 

"The roast boar is almost done.", he advised, setting down his pack. "They burned a bit of it, and didn't even spare a drop of wine for the basting, but it's better than nothing." Then he looked around. "Where's Sylus?" 

"He went after the Bugbears.", Nedel said, unconcerned. "I doubt that he'll find them in this storm, but if there's anyone who can, it's him." 

"I'm not so sure. There's just one of him, and two of them, and they might be going for help." 

"Well, there's not much we can do about that.", Penn laughed. "It's not a fair fight, but if there's only two of them, then two will have to do." 
*** 
The companions sat in the ruin of the estate house listening to the crackle of the fire, and enjoying the hot meal the Bugbears had so thoughtfully left. 

Frozen foot wrappings had been thawed out to sodden foot wrappings, and showed signs that they might even become dry foot wrappings before the morning, and the mood was generally good. 

"Hush!", Euphemia called, cutting off the idle music that drifted from the Bard's lyre. "I heard something." 

Sharp eyes peered into the darkness, hoping for Sylus' return, but the sound came from the sky, not the woods. Diving through two errant holes in the slate roof came a pair of large birds, each easily the size of a small child. They fluttered in small circles for a moment, then dove at Marcus. 

Cassius was on his feet in an instant, blade in hand, ready to defend the Cleric with his life. 

"Look out!, Euphemia cried. "Those things turn people to stone!" 

"Wha?", asked the warrior, suddenly confused. He hadn't seen the collection of statues they had passed below. Still, he warded off the first dive, deftly holding it at bay. 

"They do what?", asked Marcus, also in shock at the revelation. His curiosity was satisfied a moment later, however, when the second bird pecked him in the back of the head, and he was petrified. The bird made a show of rapping its beak against his throat, evoking a hollow echo from his open mouth.  

"Where is Sylus when you really need him?", asked Nedel as he scrambled to his feet, launching a bolt of magical energy at the winged terror. 

"Probably a statue in the woods.", Penn replied rhetorically as he took up his own bow. He fired even as he retreated, drawing a squawk but very little blood. 

"Somebody do something, fast!", cried Euphemia as blades flew from her hands. These also drew blood, but not enough to fell her target. 

Cassius faced off against the male of the pair, and they circled each other like wrestlers in the ring. The bird would dart forward, seeking an opening, only to be driven back again when it faced cold steel. 

A quick flutter of wings and a cry of triumph marked Euphemia's end, and the bird began to peck at her stony skin. 

"Get off of her!", Nedel cried, again launching arcane bolts at the creature, and driving it away. It now circled, seeking the source of its annoyance. 

Penn's arrows were on target, but seemed ineffectual, scoring wingfeathers more than meat. Cassius blade, on the other hand, was proving its worth. His foe bled from a dozen places, each one marking a failed attempt to close with the warrior, and those wounds were taking their toll. One wing drooped down now, and bloody foam lined its beak. Still, it seemed determined to kill him, and pressed the attack relentlessly. 

The hen, on the other hand, was flying freely in broad circles, selecting its next target. Then it darted in, magic flared against feathers, and Nedel was no more. Again, the bird pecked at the petrified remains of the man. 

"We're losing this fight!", Penn swore. "I have no idea how to help a statue." 

"Right now, worry about surviving. You'll figure out something later.", Cassius hissed. Then his foe feinted to one side and darted in under his blade. Iron and beak met, and then there was only one. 

"Got the bastard!", the warrior crowed, then looked around. "Penn? Where are you?" 

"Back here!", called the Bard from beyond the firelight as he sent another arrow whistling into the remaining fowl. "Distance is an archer's best friend." 

"You've been listening to Sylus again, haven't you?", bantered Cassius as he now faced off with the remaining bird. Again, they met face to face, eye to eye, 

"Kill now, talk later!", advised Penn, angling to get a shot at the stalking bird. 

"Might not be a later.", joked the warrior in uncharacteristic manner. 

The bird lunged in the moment the southland man turned his head towards Penn, and the sword point dropped to meet it. And the fight was over. The last of the birds had skewered itself on Cassius' blade.


----------



## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

*** 
The companions sat in the ruin of the estate house listening to the crackle of the fire, and enjoying the hot meal the Bugbears had so thoughtfully left. 

Frozen foot wrappings had been thawed out to sodden foot wrappings, and showed signs that they might even become dry foot wrappings before the morning, and the mood was generally good.

"Hush!", Euphemia called, cutting off the idle music that drifted from the Bard's lyre. "I heard something."

Sharp eyes peered into the darkness, hoping for Sylus' return, but the sound came from the sky, not the woods. Diving through two errant holes in the slate roof came a pair of large birds, each easily the size of a small child. They fluttered in small circles for a moment, then dove at Marcus.

Cassius was on his feet in an instant, blade in hand, ready to defend the Cleric with his life.

"Look out!, Euphemia cried. "Those things turn people to stone!"

"Wha?", asked the warrior, suddenly confused. He hadn't seen the collection of statues they had passed below. Still, he warded off the first dive, deftly holding it at bay.

"They do what?", asked Marcus, also in shock at the revelation. His curiosity was satisfied a moment later, however, when the second bird pecked him in the back of the head, and he was petrified. The bird made a show of rapping its beak against his throat, evoking a hollow echo from his open mouth. 

"Where is Sylus when you really need him?", asked Nedel as he scrambled to his feet, launching a bolt of magical energy at the winged terror.

"Probably a statue in the woods.", Penn replied rhetorically as he took up his own bow. He fired even as he retreated, drawing a squawk but very little blood.

"Somebody do something, fast!", cried Euphemia as blades flew from her hands. These also drew blood, but not enough to fell her target.

Cassius faced off against the male of the pair, and they circled each other like wrestlers in the ring. The bird would dart forward, seeking an opening, only to be driven back again when it faced cold steel.

A quick flutter of wings and a cry of triumph marked Euphemia's end, and the bird began to peck at her stony skin.

"Get off of her!", Nedel cried, again launching arcane bolts at the creature, and driving it away. It now circled, seeking the source of its annoyance.

Penn's arrows were on target, but seemed ineffectual, scoring wingfeathers more than meat. Cassius blade, on the other hand, was proving its worth. His foe bled from a dozen places, each one marking a failed attempt to close with the warrior, and those wounds were taking their toll. One wing drooped down now, and bloody foam lined its beak. Still, it seemed determined to kill him, and pressed the attack relentlessly.

The hen, on the other hand, was flying freely in broad circles, selecting its next target. Then it darted in, magic flared against feathers, and Nedel was no more. Again, the bird pecked at the petrified remains of the man.

"We're losing this fight!", Penn swore. "I have no idea how to help a statue."

"Right now, worry about surviving. You'll figure out something later.", Cassius hissed. Then his foe feinted to one side and darted in under his blade. Iron and beak met, and then there was only one.

"Got the bastard!", the warrior crowed, then looked around. "Penn? Where are you?"

"Back here!", called the Bard from beyond the firelight as he sent another arrow whistling into the remaining fowl. "Distance is an archer's best friend."

"You've been listening to Sylus again, haven't you?", bantered Cassius as he now faced off with the remaining bird. Again, they met face to face, eye to eye,

"Kill now, talk later!", advised Penn, angling to get a shot at the stalking bird.

"Might not be a later.", joked the warrior in uncharacteristic manner.

The bird lunged in the moment the southland man turned his head towards Penn, and the sword point dropped to meet it. And the fight was over. The last of the birds had skewered itself on Cassius' blade.
  *** 
Cassius and Penn stood in the circle of light, feeling suddenly chill in spite of the fire's warmth. Around them stood the petrified remains of their companions.

"There must be something you can do!", the warrior demanded. "What were those things anyway? Is there something in your book about them?"

"It's not like a list of facts or solutions.", Penn explained. "It's a story book. Ballads and legends, epic tales and sagas."

"Well, find a song or story about these things, and how to un-stone people they bite."

Penn delved into his book, and began skimming the collected wisdom there. Finally, he closed the work with a sense of finality. "Well, I know what they aren't.", he said. "At first I thought they were the legendary Cockatrice, but these are birds from head to tail. The Cockatrice has a lizard's tail and scraggly wings. They also live in warmer areas, particularly plains. Not the Dwarven Alps. But I do recall hearing tales of a cousin of that bird, one that some call the Mockatrice, because it mimics the effects of the real thing. If that's what these are, then I have a lot of work to do."

The Bard then began to cut the two birds open. He split the skulls from behind, avoiding the throat and the thyroid gland, extracting only the brain. He then carefully cut out the liver from each, and a handful of their tail feathers.

"Can you melt some snow water? Oh, and stir it with your sword. The mixture needs their heart's blood, from the weapon that killed them. You can get more from their bodies if you've cleaned the blade, but stay away from the throat. They're dead, but their venom may still be potent."

While Cassius gathered some snow from an unblemished area, Penn carefully prepared a paste of the bird's brains and liver, leavened with his own tears for those fallen, and warmed with a few drops of spring wine.

The mixture was then dissolved into the snow melt and slowly heated until it was blood warm and no warmer. 

"There isn't much of this.", Penn fretted, his gaze searching the eastern sky as he worked. "I just hope that it's enough."

When he was done, he carefully painted the eyes of his friends, as well as the area over their hearts. 

"Help me turn them around, carefully.", Penn said. "They have to see the sunrise."

"There are more statues around here.", Cassius noted. "Is there any of that left?"

"A little. Let's do what we can with what's left." And three more stone figures were anointed and arranged. They finished their work just in time.

The sunrise was muted by the eternally gray skies, but its virtue was still sufficient. As the light struck the eyes and heart of the afflicted, their gray pallor turned to a healthy pink and they began to move.

Nedel collapsed as his blood began to flow once more, clutching at his throat. Blood spurted between his clenched fingers, where the bird had chipped away some of his stony flesh.

Marcus staggered for a moment, then collapsed to his knees as well, but his purpose was different. He was kneeling near the Sorcerer, pressing his fingers into precise spots to staunch the flow.

"Help me Penn.", he gasped. "If I keep this up for very long he'll die anyway. Bring me a wand!"

The healing magic was applied, and Nedel's deathly swoon turned into the unconscious slumber of healing. He'd need rest, but he'd survive. 

Euphemia recovered as well, to the relief of all. Of the others they'd tried to save, one clutched at his face screaming. The birds had pecked out his eyes as he stood petrified, and he died with blood pouring down his face. Another simply remained stone, apparently too far gone for the remedy to work. A woman staggered, but managed to keep her feet, then looked around in confusion.

"Why is it snowing?", she asked dazedly. "What happened to the villa?"

"Relax", said Euphemia, helping her to find a spot to sit. "This may take some explaining."
*** 
Sometime after dawn the snow turned to freezing rain. In some areas it soaked the accumulated snow to slush and cleared it away. In other places it simply coated the top layer with a crust of ice. Everyplace they looked, the world glittered, beautiful and treacherous.

Yet the companions knew that they didn't have the luxury of waiting for the spring thaw, and as far as they knew more snow was on the way. They set out on the road as soon as everyone was ready to travel.

A search of the buildings had garnered little, just a small stash of dried, salted meat. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing, and with the remains of the roast boar to warm their bellies and the thin sunlight to warm their backs, they set out.

The road was now fully cobbled, unlike the lower stretches which had had stone strips for chariot or wagon and a dirt track for horse's hooves. The improvement in the road was little improvement, however, when covered in ice, and there were more than a few spills taken on the slick surface. But the road was no longer climbing, which helped. The way now lead through a pass, and into a sunlit valley. 

Within the valley one would be hard pressed to say that it was winter. The plants were green, and the sun shone warmly, with no sign of the ashen shroud that cloaked the world outside. The road wound down among trees and low greenery, leading down to a small cluster of buildings in the center of the hollow.

The buildings showed signs of neglect, but a thin ribbon of blue curled up from the chimney of one, showing that there was a cook fire within. Someone still lived here.
  ***
The woman they had rescued from the villa seemed to be recovering from her shock, though she still tended to look about, wide eyed and almost frantic, trying to take in the changes. 

She said that she had been visiting the villa in the 2nd Year of Flavius Orestes' reign, which meant that she had been petrified less than a decade, yet the changes in that time had been tumultuous, to say the least. The Vandals had invaded, Rome had been sacked, her armies scattered, cities burned, and the world cast into eternal twilight. Hard enough on those who had lived through these changes, but to have them all come crashing down on you in a moment...

Cassius made a point of walking between the newcomer and Penn, out of concern for the Half-Satyr's natural proclivities when it came to women. The lady hardly noticed, though the gesture wasn't lost on the Bard. 

"We plan to return to Rome when we're finished here.", Cassius was explaining. "You'll be safer there."

"Safe? In Rome?", she asked, still confused. "I thought you said it was destroyed?"

"No. The Vandals sacked the city and killed the reigning Caesar, but the city still stands, and is recovering."

"Oh. All right. Any news from Egyptl?", she asked absently. "I'm not Roman, you see. My family lives in Luxor. At least, they used to..." And then she lapsed into one of her long, staring silences.

"I didn't get your name.", Penn said, trying to draw her out despite Cassius warning glare.

"No, you didn't, did you?", was her only reply, and then she was gone again, her body in motion but her mind clearly elsewhere.

The conversation halted at that point, for they'd reached an obstacle. The road, broad and well paved, terminated abruptly at the base of a sheer cliff. The temple grounds stood on a rise so sheer that it looked almost as if someone had simply pushed the center of the valley upwards by a dozen or so feet. 

The obstacle wasn't insurmountable by any means, but it was odd enough that it warranted investigation. Sylus and Penn split off to the left while Euphemia and Marcus moved to the right, seeking a clue, or even a simple way up.

There was some rubble at the base of the cut, showing that it had weathered a few storms, but over all seemed quite fresh, as if the titans of the earth had simply sliced the valley with a knife and driven a plug of stone towards the heavens. 

"I found something.", Penn called as he peered behind a boulder. A narrow crack in the stone face had been hidden behind the boulder, and it showed signs of being used as a trail. Within, the stones had fallen almost like a set of stairs.

The others were called, and Cassius volunteered to go first. 

"It's bleeding tight.", he swore, as he wriggled his way up. "Hey, somebody left a spike here. It looks like it's set to tie a rope to."

"Don't touch it.", Euphemia called. "If I was going to trap a trail I used a lot, the trigger would look something like that."

"Then you come up and look at it.", the warrior complained. "I'm going to keep going."

The climb turned out to be a bit farther than at had first looked, and the footing was unsteady, but the companions managed to make the climb without incident.

Now, spread before them were the temple grounds. They could see where the road had once extended into this area, which had been the center of the small valley. It was, in total, less than a mile across, and had been arranged like a parkland. Paved walks wandered among the buildings of the grounds, which had been arranged with more art in mind than pragmatism. A small vegetable garden had been added to provide for the caretaker, and looked to be well tended.

As they approached the lone building that showed signs of life, an aged man appeared in the doorway, a pruning hook in his hand.

"Hello, friend.", Marcus called. "May the blessings of Olympus be upon you."

"And may the sun shine warmly upon you as well.", the man replied in a friendly manner. "So, more pilgrims, eh? You'll find what you seek that way.", he said, indicating a path. "Take care not to stray too far though. Some of the old menagerie are still about, and are easily upset."

"I think I know where those birds came from. Probably the strangle vines too.", Marcus informed his friends quietly. "Have a care, and keep your eyes open."

They proceeded along the path as directed, enjoying the rare sunlight as they went. The trail meandered a bit, but ended at a circular structure. Its perimeter was marked by stone pillars, each bridged at the top by broad slabs of marble that formed a ring. There was no roof, nor any sign that there had ever been one. At the center stood a small marble cone, broad but low enough that a man could look down upon it.

"It looks like a model of the temple.", Marcus marveled as he examined it. "See, the center looks like this area. There are stairs that line up with those openings.", he added, pointing to three entrances to the underground sections. "It's a solid map of the place, for there is no way to depict it properly on parchment or vellum."

"All the stairs seem to lead down to the same place, a circular corridor. Then more stairs, and more corridors. Seven levels in all."

"The caretaker said that this was where we were supposed to go, so we'd best be going.", Marcus observed. He selected the north stair, and lead the way down.

Nedel was troubled by this. "Shouldn't we have said a prayer to Apollo first? This is his temple, after all."

"Shouldn't we have told the caretaker what we were doing here?", Penn countered. "This may not be the right building at all for what we need."

"This place is the center, the beginning of the way. As life centers on the heart, so the holy works of this place center here. From here all things can be found.", Marcus answered, his voice echoing up from below. "There was no altar there, so it was neither the place for sacrifices nor prayers. What we seek awaits below."

"He seems awfully certain of himself.", Nedel said in a worried tone. "I hope he's right."

"Seven circles, as the count of days in a week.", Marcus continued, oblivious to the doubts of those who trailed behind. "Each circle is quartered, as the seasons divide the year.", he continued as he turned at the base of the stairs. "And at the center of each quarter, marking the days of the solstice and equinox, are the ways that lead on."

And sure enough, as they progressed around the circular path, they found the next corridors halfway between the entrances, one leading in and a stair leading down.

"These inner passages weren't marked on the model above.", Sylus noted.

"They lead to the altar room, which is at the center.", Marcus said. "At least I think so."

"Then that's where we should really begin.", Penn advised. And so they turned inward.

The chamber they entered was a marvel of light and artistry. Circular channels as large as a man's arms might enclose angled upwards, their upper extents apparently hidden in the stonework and statues above. Carved of white marble, they caused the daylight to flow downwards as surely as a stream directs the flow of water. The room would remain well lit, no matter the hour of the day, from dawn until sunset.

The scenes carved into the walls were magnificent, each with an inscription.

"Light the Air", read one. "Light the Fires of Truth", read the next. "Let flow the waters of Life" read the third. "Release the Bonds of the Earth.", read the fourth.

"Well, those look like directions.", Cassius declared. Let's go."

"No!", Marcus countered. "First we pray to the sun god, and make sacrifice to him. This is his temple, his home. As he is our host, so we must be good guests."
  ***
Deep in the seventh house of Apollo's temple, they found their first challenge.

The large chamber was dominated by two crystal arrays, one set in the floor and one in the ceiling. Each was shaped from a myriad of quartz columns, ranging in size from those as slender as a willow shaft to some larger than a man's wrist, and the lower one was ablaze with light.

At the cardinal points around the room were secondary collections of crystal projecting beams of colored light into the center.

While the room was generally clean, and showed no overt signs of damage, the statuary appeared to have been vandalized. All were missing at least one arm, though no rubble or even dust remained to show where the missing limbs might have fallen.

"Be careful of this door.", Euphemia said, after a brief examination. 

"What door?", asked Cassius. "It's an open archway."

"Exactly.", nodded the Halfling, pointing upwards towards a slot that ran across the opening. "Something drops down from there. We could get locked in if we aren't careful."

"Then let's be careful.", advised Penn, producing a pair of wedges and a mallet. Reaching up at the edges of the slot, he drove a wedge into each side, so as to jam anything that might try to descend.

"You're not behaving like a guest.", advised Marcus.

"If he's planning on locking us in here, then he's not behaving like a host.", came the short reply. The Bard's sense of humor was often impudent, and occasionally quite dark, but he was coldly serious right now.

"I'll check the other door.", Euphemia said, heading to the opening on the far side of the room.

"Hold it.", Penn said before she had taken three steps. "If I was trying to trap a chamber in the sun god's temple, I'd have it triggered by having someone walk through a beam of light."

"And how would you manage such a mechanism?", the Rogue asked tartly.

"I don't know, but I'd find a way. So humor me and duck under those beams of light, okay?"

"You duck, longshanks.", Euphemia laughed as she walked under the first beam, full upright. Barely taller than two cubits, she would have had to stretch to impede the beams in any way.

Cassius also laughed at the suddenly concerned Bard, but he ducked under the beams as he followed the tiny girl. "Come on, Penn. The caretaker sends all the pilgrims through this place. They couldn't be laying traps for everyone who comes here."

Everyone turned to look at the open door in anticipation of so prophetic a phrase, but nothing happened, and they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Give me a hand with this other door.", Euphemia called. "It isn't locked, but it's heavy.

The southern warrior applied his shoulder to the massive iron door, forcing it open. The creak of unoiled hinges echoed through the room, followed by the sound of splintering wedges as the entryway was abruptly sealed.

"Well, that was entirely expected.", Penn remarked dryly. "I hope they left us something in there to get it open again."

"Well, we'll be well armed when that happens.", laughed Euphemia. Then, seeing the Bard's dark expression, she pressed on. "Look, Cassius is right. They wouldn't just lock us in and kill us. Everyone who comes here on pilgrimage visits this room. And they get out again. It can't be that hard. Besides, I wasn't kidding about being well armed.", she added, dragging out a stone arm from the side chamber. "There's a bunch of these in here. I think we have to put them back where they belong."

The pair brought out the assortment of stone body parts and laid them out on the floor. There was one for every statue in the hall, but four were of particular interest. They held shields of burnished bronze, bright and shiny.

"I think I know where these go.", Marcus said with satisfaction. "If we put them in the statues by the light sources, they'll deflect the light beams up to the second set of crystals. Right now they're lighting the room from the floor. This will light it from the ceiling."

"We'd better save those for last though.", Nedel cautioned. "We shouldn't solve the puzzle clue before everything else is ready."

And so they set out to match the arms to their respective statues. It was a frustratingly slow process, since many seemed cut in the same style, but wouldn't fit the shoulder joint properly. But as more and more found their homes, the process sped up, until finally there were just the four remaining arms, the shield bearers.

"Just so you know, there's something moving inside the crystals.", Euphemia advised. "This may be more than just a simple puzzle."

"Simple?", huffed Cassius. "Easy for you to say, you haven't been the one hauling stone body parts around."

"Hey, can I help it if all the statues are taller than I am?"

"In any case, let's be ready for trouble."

Three of the arms were set into place, and as each one found its home the lower crystal darkened and the one above glowed brighter, and the figures in the lower array become more distinct.

Then everyone placed themselves, and the Bard began to sing a song to rouse the blood. And the last statue was restored.

Half the group were expecting the statues to animate, while the others were busy watching the dark crystal. It was from that place that the danger emerged.

"They look like living shadows.", Cassius said in wonder. "With no one to cast them."

The dark forms flickered forward, dancing about as if outlined by a candle in the wind. They'd be in front of someone one moment, and then a heartbeat later they'd be somewhere else.

"Ahhhh!", Marcus cried out as one of them struck at him, its dim hands passing through armor and flesh alike. "It's cold!", he cried as he stumbled back.

"_Oblivion!_", cried the unnamed woman as a flash of light sprang from her hand. The dim form danced back at her rebuke, light crackling inside it like lightning in a storm cloud.

And the battle was on. The foes' wavering forms were indistinct, and striking at them was like slashing at smoke, but they did react to some of the blows.

Nedel's magical bolts seemed particularly effective, as did the disrupting flashes from the new member. 

The enemy seemed unable to stay with any particular opponent, for while their natural defense kept them dancing in and out of reach, it also moved them from companion to companion, preventing them from concentrating on any one person. Their blows drew no blood, but instead numbed the mind the way the winter snows numbed the body.

It took time, but by sheer numbers the companions were wearing the enemy down. The living learned to match the enemy's dance, stepping away as the enemy flickered in, then anticipating where they were going to be next when they aimed their blows.

One shadow fell, and then the second, and the room was quiet. Slowly, smoothly, the iron slab that blocked the doorway withdrew into the ceiling once more.

"Well that was odd.", Euphemia giggled, laughing almost as if she were slightly drunk.

"I think the crystals were a prison.", Marcus said. "As long as they were filled with light, the creatures of darkness couldn't pass. Once we lit the air above them though, they were free to attack."
  ***
"The next chamber should be this way.", Marcus said, as he took another turn.

"Why don't you let me scout the way, just in case there's trouble up ahead?", Sylus asked. "I saw the cartograph too."

The next chamber they found resembled the first, in that it was quite large, with an arched ceiling and just two doors. Again, there was a slot above the entrance for a door to fit into. They didn't bother trying to block this one.

In the center of the room stood a stone circle, and above it was a matching one of iron. Long pipes of black iron lead in from the sides, and a forge and bellows stood to one side.

"This looks like it's dedicated to Hephaistus.", the Ranger said, examining the carvings on the walls.

"Then lets light the fire and be done with it."

As before, opening the second door sealed the first, but this time the side chamber held a bin of charcoal.

Sylus considered the size of the fire pit, then called for three skupper's of charcoal.

"Before you light that, shouldn't we check to see that the flue is open?", Euphemia suggested. "We're pretty far underground, and we don't want to smoke ourselves out."

There was indeed a damper on the flue inside the iron hood. A quick check of the room showed other dampers on the iron pipes, which when opened provided a solid draft of fresh air.

The fires were then lit and fanned to a proper heat. Still the door remained closed.

"Maybe it needs something else.", Penn muttered, examining the room again. Then it hit him. "This is a shrine to the god of smiths!", he declared brightly. Moving to the anvil he hefted the hammer there and struck three ringing blows, reciting the traditional chant of the smiths as he did.

The fires in the forge suddenly flared bright, raising themselves from bright coals to a towering blaze, then abruptly went out. The door opened.
*** 
We should have been forging something.", Marcus said as they walked away. "I'm not sure, but I think we may have just angered the god."

"The fires were lit, and the room released us.", Penn replied. "I'm just as happy that we didn't have to fight anything."

Sylus kept his own counsel, as usual, and lead the group though the temple maze.
*** 
"The waters of life, I presume?", Nedel asked, as they surveyed the next room.

Again, the room was large, its ceiling vaulted, but this time there was no side changer, and no sign that the door might seal. Instead, the chamber was filled with a still pool of clear water. The floor descended into the depths as it got farther from the door, and large golden carp could be seen swimming about. The room was filled with a wavering blue illumination.

"So what's the challenge?", Sylus asked, looking the place over. 

"There's something across the way.", Euphemia observed, trying to angle her head for a clearer view. Then she began to laugh. "There a huge stopper in the bottom, like you'd see in a washbasin. All we have to do is pull it out."

"Hmm. Looks far too easy.", said Nedel suspiciously. He reached down and trilled his fingers in the water, just playing with the surface.

At once the fish gathered as close to him as they could get.

"I think I see the problem.", he noted. "I think the fish have something to do with this challenge. Penn, do you have any of that dried beef left?"

"Yeah. I was saving it for the trip home, but it's certainly worth the sacrifice here."

Nedel offered bits of the hard, seasoned meat to the fish, and though they were curious, they showed no inclination to eat any.

"Let me try something.", Penn suggested. "If nothing else, they'll be happy." A song of change was sung, and the strong aroma of sweet mead filled the room.

"You didn't transform the whole pool, did you?", asked Euphemia in wonder.

"No, I can't do that much, and I'm sure it's a sin to water good wine, but in this case I'm adding wine to the water so I'm sure it's all right. Now, let's see if our friends here like getting drunk."

But the fish fairly bolted away from the area as soon as the first wisp of the honeyed nectar reached them. They wanted no part of the enchanted brew at all.

"Why bother with the fish in the first place?", Sylus asked, reaching back over his shoulder. From his quiver he withdrew a heavy, oddly shaped arrow. A line was quickly attached, and he took careful aim.

The heavy quarrel leapt across the distance, trailing the rope behind it, and sank right near the huge plug.

"Where did you get the grappling hook arrow?", Euphemia asked in wonder, clearly excited by the possibilities of such a thing.

"You remember that Half-Orc armorer back in in Rome?", Sylus asked as he drew his arrow back in. "He made all sorts of special items."

It took three tries before he managed to hook the loop on the huge stopper, but once it was caught it held secure.

"Okay, everyone pull.", the Ranger called, so they all took a grip and heaved.

Nedel lost his footing and splashed into the shallows. Almost instantly the fish darted in, slamming into the fallen Sorcerer. The impact fairly flung him back to the edge where he sat rubbing sore ribs and a wounded pride.

The stopper remained unmoved.

"I think there's probably a release of some kind.", Euphemia speculated. "Someone will have to go and work it loose by hand."

Penn saw their diminutive Rogue begin to remove her armor, and waved her back. "While I'm sure you're capable, your people aren't known for being strong swimmers."

"Well, you're not a strong anything.", came the sharp retort.

But Penn wasn't listening. Instead he was singing a song of transformation. His features flowed and changed, and in a moment he stood before them as a completely different person. His horns were gone, as was his beard. His skin was a pale white that seemed almost blue, and his hands and feet were webbed.

His dive as a long, graceful arc, and he flashed across the distance in a single fluid move, catching the guardian fish by surprise.

There was indeed a locking bar through the plug, and Penn gave it a sharp turn. At once he could see that the plug was loose, and he swam away as fast as he could, lest he be sucked down when it was freed.

This time the fish were ready, and easily matched his aquatic speed and grace, but they didn't attack. Either they sensed his nature as being similar to their own, or they didn't object to him leaving the pool.

"Pull now!"

The line was drawn taut, the plug came easily, and the room began to swirl down the exposed drain. Surprisingly the fish weren't carried with the current, but were left behind. Once they were fully exposed to the air they changed form, becoming graceful humanoid women with pale green skin.

The bowed, speaking some words in a language the companions didn't understand, then left the room.

"Wait!", called Penn as he saw them depart. "Stay. We could have drinks, get to know each other."

"They're gone, free now. I don't think even your charms could have kept them here."

"It would have been nice to find out.", pouted the Bard as he resumed his normal form. "I've never been with a Niad before, and six of them?"

"You wouldn't have survived."

"And I say again, it would have been nice to find out."
  ***
The party plodded wearily towards what they hoped would be their last challenge. It wasn't what they expected.

The stairway down was ten feet wide, and fairly steep, unlike the previous three challenges. At the bottom was a heavy plank door that stood as tall as three men, and was bound with heavy brass straps. The lock was clearly visible, a bit higher than a man's head.

"Okay, I'm going to have a problem with that.", Euphemia said when she saw it. "I can probably open it easily enough, but reaching it is the problem."

"You can stand on my shoulders.", Marcus suggested. "Will your tools work on a lock that heavy?"

"Tools? Grief, I can probably fit my hand in that thing.", she laughed.

Her bravado began to falter after a few minutes, though. "I can see the mechanism, but I can't move anything. It's just too heavy to move."

"You could try the key.", Cassius suggested. pointing upwards. Sure enough, a huge brass key hung high in the air, up near the right corner of the corridor.

"Hmm. Well, this will be a challenge.", Euphemia declared, eying the wall carefully. "If I work the corner, and put my foot there..."

"Maybe I can help.", Penn offered. He hummed a little tune, and extended his hand. The key began to swing on its cord, but was otherwise immovable."

"It's too heavy.", Nedel said. "Maybe if we try together."

"I have another idea.", Penn laughed, a crafty look in his eye. "Stand clear, that thing looks heavy." Then he hummed his magical tune once more and the torch lifted from his hand, wafting upward as a leaf on the breeze. Concentrating, he directed the torch to the key, and held the flame to the cord that supported it. The cord smoldered and smoked, then parted suddenly, sending the key clanging to the floor below.

"I think you dented it.", Euphemia warned, as she hefted the weighty thing. It was nearly as long as her arm.

"I damaged the key?"

"No, the floor. The key's fine.", came the response as she examined the gouge in the landing. "It's funny.", she said. "All the walls and floors here have been marble and granite. This piece is sandstone. Nobody uses sandstone for a foundation block."

"Well, see if the key fits.", Nedel called. "It's the fastest way off of that slab of sandstone."

Cassius hoisted the key up over his head and inserted it into the lock. It turned easily, and the door swung towards him of its own accord, sweeping the full width of the landing.

Beyond the door was a room, small compared to the others they'd seen, perhaps 20 feet on a side. The floor was inlaid with fine white marble tiles as wide as a man is tall, separated by strips of polished wood. Along each side wall stood wooden racks loaded with staves. They varied in length, but were as straight and as round as could be.

Euphemia began to venture out towards the double doors on the far side of the room, then suddenly froze. "The floor moved.", she whispered. Everyone cringed as she carefully sidestepped away from the suspect tile, only to see her flinch again. "This one shifted too." she warned. She shifted again, right up to the left hand wall, and began to look worried. 

Crouching low, she drew a thin blade from her kit and began to probe around the edges of the stone. The blade slid in to its full length, meeting no resistance. 

"Okay, each panel is pinned in place.", she declared. "One pin at the center of each edge. I can't tell what they're for, but I'm betting that something can be triggered that makes them pull out. The whole slab will tip or just plain fall if that happens. But I can't find the trigger. Whose lightest, besides me?"

"Probably me.", admitted the Half Satyr, shedding his pack. "I'm 7 stone, no more." 
He examined the situation, then calmly strode out onto the floor, taking care to place his feet along the wooden rails that made up the supporting framework.

"Well, yeah, I suppose we could do it that way.", snorted Euphemia in disgust. "Do you think you can keep your balance if both panels fall away?"

"Good point.", agreed the Bard. "Maybe that's what these are for.", he continued, lifting one of the long staves from the rack. "If I hold it crossways, it can't pass through any of the openings, and I'll have something to grab onto."

"You know, grabbing that could have triggered the trap."

"Then maybe you should grab one, to help keep yourself from falling."

The pair glared at each other for a long moment, then broke into laughter.

"Smart ass.", the Halfling chuckled, shifting her feet so they were on the vertices, as Penn's were. She proceeded to the far door. The keyhole was at a more normal level, but was still oversized.

Cassius came out, carefully, braced his feet the same way the other two had, and lifted the heavy key into place. Almost the moment he turned the key, both doors slammed open. Cassius staggered back, blood pouring down his face, and the room shook with the impact of the doors against the walls.


----------



## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

***
"Stupid fragging door!", swore the angry warrior as he tried to staunch the bleeding. "I think it broke my nose!"

"Well, next time, look out for attacking portals.", Euphemia replied, trying to stifle her laughter. Then she calmed down and examined her friend's injury. "It doesn't look broken, you just banged it. 

"Well, I wasn't expecting to be attacked by a door." 

"Let's worry about what's behind the door, shall we?", someone suggested. 

"You're right, we aren't thinking right here.", Cassius declared. "We know this entire floor is a pit trap just waiting to be sprung and we haven't done anything about it." He stalked across the tiled floor and secured a rope to the doorjamb at the base of the stairs. "We'll use this when we cross, so we'll have a way to break our fall when the trap trips." 

"Um, we may need more rope.", Euphemia called. She was peering down the stair the newly opened doors had revealed. 

Calling it a stair may have been a mistake. It was more of a ladder, a narrow series of steps descending 30 feet over a run of scarcely 10 feet. The ladder was "open" in that you could see back through the rungs into the area below rigged floor of the room above. 

Facing the ladder was another, larger room. The floor of this larger room was made of the same stone tiles and wooden separators as the one above. 

Euphemia waved the others across the treacherous upper level, while she herself went down to examine the lower room. 

"The floor panels are rigged the same way as the ones above.", she declared after a brief examination. A second rope was tied off at the doorway and paid out as she worked her way across the floor. Her destination was an odd mechanism in the far corner. 

She reached it safely and began her examination. "Looks Gnomish.", she declared. "Wheels and gears. The whole thing seems to be held in place by these two handles." 

"Hold it. Before you even try to tinker that thing, drive a spike into the wall and tie yourself off to it. Even with the rope you have now, you could drop a long ways before the line could break your fall." 

"Noplace to set a spike.", Euphemia observed. "The wall is seamless." 

Penn looked disgusted and dug a small package out of his bag. Careful to tread only on the vertices, he almost danced across the floor. "This is an Alchemist's trick.", he advised, presenting her with the parcel. "It's called a 'tanglefoot bag', and it's full of thick gum. Stick it to the wall, and secure a line to that. It should hold your weight for a few seconds anyway." Then he tap-toed his way back to the relative safety of solid ground. 

After taking the suggested precautions, the Halfling resumed her examination of the device. 

"I can't see any way to jam or disable this thing.", she called to the others. "I don't think it was made to be disabled. All I can do is pull the pins and see what it does." 

"Well, we're inside a mountain. How far can it drop us?", Cassius laughed nervously. He and Marcus took a solid hold on the line, and Penn braced himself in the doorway with a hand on each of their belts. They gave her a nod. 

She seized the matched ivory grips and pulled. They came away almost instantly, and she found herself holding a pair of blades, one long and one short. She also found herself hanging from the rope she had secured, for to the surprise of practically no one, the floor had collapsed as soon as the blades came free. 

Below her was a long drop, eight man-heights at least, into the blistering cold of an ice coated mountainside.  

"Glad that didn't happen to me.", she laughed. "Get ready to pull me in guys. Guys?" 

Across the room, Cassius and Marcus were hanging from the rope, their feet dangling over the snowy expanse. 

"That's impossible!", Penn gasped, struggling to steady the line. His friends' weight had easily torn their belts from his grip, but the heavy stave he'd braced across the doorway had kept him from being dragged after them.  

"We're miles from the edge of the valley, and more miles to the other side of the pass!", he insisted, even though it was clear that they were suspended over one of the outer faces of those mountains. 

"Less talk, more help!", gasped Marcus as his fingers began to slip. 

"I've got you!", Penn declared, grabbing at one of his friend's sleeves. Then, with a sound of tearing cloth, Marcus fell away and tumbled down the mountainside, leaving the Bard with a scrap of linen in his hand. 

The Cleric bounced and slid for fifty feet before coming to rest against an icy outcropping. 

Cassius quickly pulled himself up and into the doorway, then pulled more rope from his pack. 

"Here! Grab on!", he yelled into the howling wind that whipped across the mountain face. 

"I can't reach it!", Marcus yelled back, struggling to grasp the dancing lifeline that bounced just beyond his reach. 

Penn pulled some line from his pack and quickly knotted the two together. The added length helped, and soon the Jovian Cleric had a rope secured around his waist. 

"You'd better hurry.", Euphemia called from her safe perch. She'd pulled herself up and was sitting on one of the support slats, watching the drama play out. "I can see some cracks in that ice mass he's sitting on, and if it goes it may take this whole room with it." 

The remaining people heaved on the line and quickly drew the bruised holy man up to safety.  

Meanwhile Euphemia made her way across the skeletal remains of the floor, swinging hand over hand like a small monkey, the twin blades tucked safely away in her pack. 

A few moments were then spent tending to bruises and scrapes, and calming a few panicked nerves. 
*** 
"So, how do we get back?", Cassius asked, looking at the problem before them.

"We climb the ladder, then crawl across the slats, trying not to fall.", Nedel said, suggesting the most obvious course. 

"There's another option.", Penn suggested. "We left a rope. Why not just walk across the floor underneath, then climb the rope out to the door. Less chance of falling that way." 

"I'm for that.", the nameless Wizardess declared approvingly. She gave the safety line a shake, and walked across the dirt floor towards the far wall. 

Almost at once, a pair huge ant-like creatures sprang up from the dust before her, blocking her way. 

Quick as a blink, Euphemia tumbled across the room, blades flashing in each hand. A quick strike and a chitinous "thunk", and first blood was drawn. 

Penn's bow was in his hand almost before he could think about it, but the tight knot of combatants made his shot difficult, so he began a war chant instead. 

Blades flashed and claws slashed, fang and shield crashed together as the melee erupted. Magic flared from Nedel's fingers, while the lady who had triggered the conflict backed herself into a corner, dagger held in guard position. 

Cassius' combat technique played well here, where the enemy had little room to maneuver, and Euphemia kept finding ways to insert herself behind an enemy's position. Penn continued to angle for shots, but again the shifting dance of combat denied him a clear target. The ant-warriors continued to arrive, erupting with an explosion of dust from the floor. 

One sprang up next to the startled Bard, who followed blind instinct. There was a crash as Satyr horns and ant carapace met, and the ant warrior staggered back in confusion. 

"Where's Sylus?", someone asked. "We could us his help." 

"He stayed up top, to guard our back.", came the reply. 

"Well our backs are down here, and he should be too!" 

But the banter was fairly good natured, as the enemy's tactics played against them. If they had arrived en mass, they could have overwhelmed the companions easily. Instead they had tried to wear them down with a stream of opponents, and being battle hardened veterans they continued to grind them down. 

The floor was fairly well littered with bodies and body parts when the ant warriors decided they'd had enough and retreated. The small room echoed with the sudden silence as battle ended. 

After spending a moment to take stock, it was decided that a quick evacuation was the best course of action, and they scrambled up the rope to the relative safety of the upper hall.


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## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

***
Wounded and tired, the companions made their way back up the weaving path of corridors and stairs to the central chamber. 

"Somehow, I think we missed the place where we were supposed to destroy the blade.", Penn kept saying. 

_"Are you sure you want to?"_ 

"Of course. It's what we came here for. Apellenea died trying to do this.", Penn replied. 

"Who are you talking to?", Marcus asked, giving the Bard an odd look. 

"What? Didn't you just ask...", he began, then his voice trailed off. The voice he'd been talking to hadn't come from any of the people present. "We need to get rid of this thing, now.", he finished. 

_"But why? Why not use it on the Plutonians?"_ 

"Shut up!", Penn muttered, trying to keep his voice low. 

"I think we're being followed.", Euphemia hissed, looking back down the corridor. 

"Then let's turn it into a chase.", Nedel replied, urging his friends to pick up the pace. They had no magic left, and were all but dragging their feet with exhaustion. While running seemed unthinkable, another battle would be worse. They managed to work up to a lumbering trot, but that was it. 

They climbed the last set of stairs and entered the altar room. 

Things had changed. While the cunning design of the room had channeled sunlight in before, now the room was fairly bursting with light trying to flow outward. It was like luminous honey, pouring, flowing, streaming thick through one's fingers yet offering no resistance to movement at all. 

The wellspring of this glory was the altar, which pulsed with power, the heartbeat of the deity himself. The center of the altar stone, where there had once been a shallow bowl carved into the marble to receive sacrifices, now bore a long narrow depression, shaped like a sword. 

" _Stay away from there, it looks dangerous._", Penn warned, then realized that the words were not his, even though they had crossed his lips. His companions were looking at him as if he had gone mad, and he struggled to speak for himself. He failed.

" _Run, before the place explodes!_", commanded the non-Penn voice, but the companions stood their ground. They saw the torment in the Bard's eyes. The Betrayer's Blade had taken control of his greatest weapon, his voice, and he was powerless to take it back.

But he realized that his body was still his own. Quickly he shed his pack and drew out the small wooden chest. It opened at his touch, and the blade lay there, drinking in the power that flowed through the room. All he had to do was pick it up and place it on the altar. He reached for it and... 

...and realized that that was exactly what the Blade wanted. If he once took that weapon in his hand, he'd never be able to put it down. He grabbed at the iron tongs, the ones used to place the Blade in the coffer, and hefted the cursed weapon out of its confinement. 

The Blade changed form almost at once, becoming an immense two handed tournament blade, too large and unbalanced to lift with the narrow tongs. Penn dragged it instead.  

Then it became a whip, soft and supple, threatening to slide out of the grip of the cold iron, snaking across the floor in search of something to hold onto, but the companions all stood back, leaving it no purchase. 

" _Fool! I can win this war for you!_", the voice echoed. "_The followers of the underworld god want this darkness to last forever._", it cried, shifting form again and again in a struggle to win free, or to topple the Bard with the shifting weight. "_Don't let them win!_"

With staggering steps the one who was neither man nor beast rounded the end of the altar, and dragged his burden up and onto the stone table. Once there, it snapped to its true form, the form in which it was forged, a graceful battle blade, crafted for the hand of a god. And a perfect fit for the altar of a god. 

As the blade slid into the receptacle made for it, it too blazed with light, and the power of all the souls it had harvested poured out. 

The light now had a direction, and roared like a river in a column that rose to, and passed through the ceiling of the hall. Though the stone above remained intact, the companions could see through it somehow, see that pillar of light lance up to the heavens themselves, and join with the sun above. Apollo was calling that power back to himself. 

The entire valley shook, violently, then went still. 

The companions found themselves on the ground, and began to rise. Then they saw the towering figure in luminous gold who filled the center of the chamber, and decided that their current position was probably the best one.  

"Well done, my children. Many were concerned that you weren't ready, but time pressed and the enemies gathered. Your sacrifices are appreciated, and for better or for worse, the forces on both sides of this struggle are now aware of you and the role you are destined to play.", the deity said in a voice like a warm summer day.

"What exactly did we do?", Marcus asked, being the first to find his tongue. 

"You freed the lost souls, and sent them on to their proper place in the afterlife. And, in so doing, you added to my strength. There are many sun gods, and you have just confirmed that I am first among them. Ra, of the Pharo's lands, now bows his head to me. Frey of the frozen north salutes me even as I salute you. Each of them had champions on similar quests, and those quests are still of value, but by finishing first you have helped assure my survival, and ultimately my victory." 

"Victory? You mean that the curse will now be lifted?" 

"Yes. It will take time, but my light will grace the world once more." 

"Um, how much time?", Penn asked, careful to avert his eyes as he spoke. 

"A few millennia, no more.  , came the almost casual reply. "The time of change is upon the world, and that takes time. Frey calls it the Fimbulwinter. We call it The Twilight. It will pass, in time."

"Um, not to be disrespectful or ungrateful, but is there any way we could end the curse more quickly?" 

" Of course. There are other steps, other quests, and the enemy will not falter in their efforts either. They will try to undo what you've done, or delay the victory you've won. The work of mortal hands is far from finished. But today is not the day to concern ourselves with such things. Today is a day of celebration. Even the enemy acknowledges this victory, and so there is peace in the heavens for this brief span. I am restricted from direct interference in the mortal conflicts, but I am the patron of prophets and seers, and may share with you the gift of knowledge. Ask what you will, and I will answer if I can.

Marcus gathered himself and asked the question that had shaped his life. "Are you my brother? Mother said that Jupiter came to her in the night, and that I am his child. Is this true?" 

The god frowned. " My brother? Not exactly. It's complicated, and is in truth a question you should ask of Jupiter himself."

Marcus smiled quietly to himself, for in not answering the question, the god had in fact answered it. He hadn't said "no". 

Penn wavered, for he had a similar question about his own father, who he had never met. But there were more important matters. "How will we know these other quests you mentioned? Will there be a sign, some guide to help direct us?" 

" Yes, child of Pan, there is. You will know the path by ~~~~~~", he finished, speaking words that only the Bard's ears could hear. Penn took little notice of the "child of Pan" reference, for all of the Satyr bloodline could trace their heritage back to the god of the pipes.

Cassius was next. "We've been told that Asmodeus, the ruler of the Nine Hells, has declared alliance with the gods, and that Orcus and Demogorgon stand among your foes. Are there any other unexpected, um..." 

"What you have heard is true, at least for the moment. Some suspect the trickster of the north will change sides, but nothing is clear. There is and has been treachery in the heavens, and it may not be over yet. 

Sylus asked about the future of his people in Gaul, but like the words spoken to Penn, none could hear the reply. He seemed troubled by the answer, but chose not to share it. 

"What is your name, child, and what is your request?"  , the god asked of the nameless Wizardess.

"My name is Imagina, and I'm not sure I'm part of any 'prophesy'. I just met these people. But if you're offering, could you teach me the secret of the blasting fire?" 

Child, you are part of the prophesy. Whether you choose to continue on that path is up to you. As for your request..."  , the god declared, then raised his hand. Sunfire lanced from his fingertip into the book she was holding. She dropped it as it suddenly blazed with his power, and on the page exposed, she saw a spell written, burned into the vellum by the god's divine power.

Then Apollo nodded, beaming with happiness.  "Your path from here is simple. The western road that brought you here is closed, but the southern road is straight and open. And though my prophetic abilities are limited by the war, I believe you'll find a Bacchanal waiting for you.

And with that, he faded, leaving the room bathed in warm sunlight.


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## Greenfield (May 29, 2012)

******* 
Epilogue:

The scene of the struggle with the blade, and of its final destruction, were a case of me seriously taking my literary license out for a spin.  The actual game scene was a lot more mundane.

There were, of course, some WTF moments for some of you readers, I'm sure, as you tried to relate things in the tale to game rules.  There's a simple explanation:  We messed up.

The Bard (me) broke a rule when he summoned up a crowd of people.  _Silent Image _doesn't work that way.  One object, creature or force, not many.  The DM missed it at the time as well.

The DM had intended the birds as Cockatrice, but got the descriptions wrong, saying that they looked like scraggly chickens with long tails.  He also had the people stoned come back with sunlight.  He thought that the Bard could make Stone Salve (right out of the DMG) with Alchemy and/or Brew Potion.  The fact is, it calls for spells we don't have in the group, so again I took my literary license in hand and pretended that such things could actually be done in the game.  They can't.

Several players were absent from the early sessions, which is why their characters weren't there.  The DM still swears that the convenient teleport (which has no explanation by game rules) was not supposed to be powered by a sacrifice, but the timing was so perfect that we've played it that way ever since.  

Advice:  Don't accept "free" rides from clerics of death deities.


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