# Correl: Scion of Magic vs. The Harbinger of Lorleena



## MarauderX (Apr 14, 2004)

*1*


  Picturing her in his mind again, Vance started to fast forward through his memories to the beginning of yesterday.  In a moment the elf saw his life’s memories flitter by.  Not dwelling on any single feeling, he couldn’t help but judge his life as hollow thus far, traveling from place to place out of a self-driven necessity.  His mind raced nearly to the end, and there he recalled the man’s name he was looking for: Martee.  

  “Martee,” Vance said sternly, “why are you giving me less than I asked for?”

  “Eh, well, you didn’t seem that interested, really, so I didn’t make as much I thought you’d need.  Didn’t think it was special is all.  You were pretty distracted as I recall,” said Martee, “You alright?”

  “Yes, why?” said Vance, though he knew that he was drifting back to the memory of her, to the bookmark in his encyclopedic mind where Vance had witnessed the most beautiful event of his long life.  

  Martee gathered the bread he had been making for the past two days into sacks, and Vance motioned to follow him to a horse outside.  Vance strapped the bags to the horse as best he could before opening his purse.  The bulky bags were filled with round loaves of bread, enough to keep the baker busy for the last two days doing little else.  

  Vance turned to see the two Halfling children that had followed him through the town on his visit playing with a small sack of their own, their little hands darting in and out like hummingbirds as they filled it with rocks.  
“Let me know when you’ll be back in town and I’ll prep some good meats for you too,” said Martee as he counted the few silver pieces in his palm.  “Hey, you at least owe me more than this,” said Martee, “you got more on your horse than three bloody silver!  At least give me my work back if you don’t have the money.”  

  “It’s less than I asked for, I thought you might like less than you asked for too.  I will see you again Martee, and I will ask for more bread,” Vance said as he swung into the saddle, “perhaps next time you will believe me and work through the night to deliver what I ask.”

  “But you couldn’t take it with you if I did!  You make no sense, there’s no way you and your entire clan could eat that much, you crazy elf!  Sure I’ll make it next time, but I’ll not be buying it back stale, or lending you another horse to take with you!” said Martee.

  “Thank you,” said the elf before riding off.  

  Trying to drag the bag with them, the Halfling children started to unload the overweight bag to follow Vance, again the hummingbirds zipped to undo their work.  Waving Vance bid them farewell as he left the town.  


  Traveling for an hour to the east, Vance spotted the silhouettes of his friends as they stood waiting for him at the top of the next rolling hill.  Riding up the gentle grade they greeted him before the sun set below the horizon. 

  “Did you get enough?” asked Amena, as she steadied a sack on the back of her saddle.  

  “Maybe, though you know it’s just a temporary solution,” Vance replied.

“Let’s get going then,” said Argus, “Griver and Lalyer have been waiting with them long enough.”

  The three of them traveled an hour to the east before turning northeast towards the edge of the forest.  They could barely make out the trees in the fading light, and before long they were guiding their horses next to the tree line as best they could as they moved east.  The night began with the sounds of insects between methodic hoof beats and passed to that of chirping from the first morning birds.  Groggily Amena squelched her yawn as she saw the morning dew split asunder by the rays of sun behind her.  

  “Another hour, about,” said Lalyer squinting as he looked behind to check on the others.  His mount had set the pace for the others, and though they all had a load to carry, they looked as tired as their mounts, hanging their heads lower.  

  They turned from the tree line into the woods and saw their destination soon after – an open grove where apple trees were once cared for but were now in shambles with weeds, ivy and other seedling trees sprouting up to battle for sunlight.  

  Griver saw them first and sauntered his way to them, grabbing the first sack of bread from Argus’s stead.  

  “This don look like enough,” Griver said, his face forming into stony doubt as he looked at Vance.  

  “Don’t delay, bring it already,” Lalyer was heard to say.  

  Trotting beyond the grove, Lalyer called out in their tongue that more food had arrived.  Small round faces emerged from the surrounding huts to see that indeed food had arrived, and soon the laden horses were surrounded with wire-thin Halflings.  Their sunken eyes watched and spindly arms stretched up to them as they passed out bread, dried meat, and fresh fruit before running off.  Before long the small crowd had been satiated, and the group gathered the mostly empty bags into a pile around the meeting tree.  

  “I hope they enjoy it, looks like it won’t last long,” said Argus.

  “We aren’t going to do the same thing every day are we?” asked Griver.

  “No, this isn’t going to work,” said Lalyer, “Where did they all go?” 

  Pointing Amena said “looks like towards the top of the hill.”

  “You mean where they had been taking those rocks and flowers and such?” said Argus.

  “We best see why,” said Lalyer, “I have a hunch that they didn’t go there just to dine together.”

  The group trekked up the slope to the top of the hill where they could see the Halflings had all gathered.  Lalyer gathered up one of the Halflings that was too weak to make it up the hill and carried him.  In whispers the Halflings were making devotions to a goddess they had seen at the top of the hill.  Carved rocks, wooden totems and flowers in all manner of decay were strewn about the hilltop, and gathered in a circle about the very top were the Halflings.  In the middle of the circle the group saw most of the food they had brought.  

  “Now what,” huffed Amena.

  Griver rustled his beard as his face slowly to reflect his emotion of confusion and frustration.

  “Let’s wait to see if they eat it, if not now sometime later,” said Lalyer.  

  Vance struggled to keep his eyes from shutting in the soft warmth of the midmorning sun.  They had left the horses in the empty shanty town at the bottom of the hill after pushing them all night long.  It was agreed that they would wait and rest.


  Vance slept and dreamt of her again.  His memory, like that of all elves, was perfect; he recalled how she moved, smelled, and the slight golden sheen that danced on her flawless skin.  The image replayed for him, and he groped into the air and cursed himself for what came next, as the memory of parting her tore at his senses and judgment.  It was to Vance the hardest thing he had ever done in his long memory.  He recalled time starting from that moment and it was a bookmark upon which events either started before or after, and his mind would scan either forward or backward.  Though it was the pinnacle in his life, the nymph threatened to be a distraction too burdensome to overcome.  More than anything he feared her; not just the memory of her, but if he ever met her again he feared that he might succumb to her again, and the aftermath would be unbearable.


  Vance pieced his memories back into place as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.  Griver was there, watching him with indifference.  

  “Did they eat?” asked Vance.

  “No, and I don think they are going to neither,” said Griver as he sifted through his backpack.

  “I wonder why that is,” said Vance.

  “Is that a rhetorical question?  Do you really wonder, or are you asking out loud as a way to make it better on yourself?” said Griver.

This wasn’t the first time there was tension between Vance and the dwarf.  Vance knew enough not to answer as he studied Griver’s visage intently.  Still Vance couldn’t distinguish the subtle facial signs that all dwarves shared and seemed to expect from other races.  The first time Vance had met Griver he thought the dwarf rude.  He only later found out that the dwarf thought the same, as Griver had answered the elf’s questions with facial indicators instead of a verbal reply.  Knowing that dwarves used such communication couldn’t help him understand it now.  Vance looked away.   

  Vance had awoken in time to see the sun setting once again, as he had slept nearly the entire day.  Argus and Amena had woken and were preparing a stew with some of the food they had brought for the frail Halflings.  

  “I don’t understand it, they should want to eat,” said Lalyer.  

  “Did you speak with the magi, you know, the mayor?” inquired Argus.

  “I did, and that may be where the problem lies,” said Lalyer.  “He was only the head priest before their ‘mayor’ died, and once that happened it seems he was promoted.  Ever since then he has been urging them to fast until their goddess comes to ‘take them all to her bosom’ and ‘begin a new day of plenty,’ whenever that may be.”

  “Does that mean he is going to starve everyone to death?” asked Amena.

  “Yeah, I think he’s prepared to do that and more,” replied Lalyer, “before we got here they murdered several ‘doubters’ who had snuck off to forage.  And he’s none too happy about us tempting ‘those with no discipline.’”

  “Well, someone has to ask,” said Argus “Can we get their help before the goddess comes?”

“Yes,” said Lalyer, "he promised us earlier, and I will remind him of that promise soon."


----------



## MarauderX (Apr 15, 2004)

*2*

“Alright,” said Lalyer, “the magi has decided to grant us our wish, as long as we leave.”  

“So when will that happen?” Argus replied shortly.

“He said it would be when the moon had reached its first quarter,” responded Lalyer, sitting down against the wall.  In the small wooden home they were staying Lalyer was still tall enough to reach up and push on the straw roof while sitting.  

“Well, when is that?” said Argus, his impatience and discomfort of their latest home showing.  

“Three days,” answered the dwarf.  

“Yes, and three more days to get to the well,” added Vance.  

“Right,” said Lalyer, “and we can only hope our guides can make the trek.  How is the rest of our food supply holding up?”

Amena opened her eyes.  “More than a week for each of us, or forever if we take on the eating habits of our hosts,” she said.  

 “It’s looking like we’ll need to make another run to that town.  I’ll go this time, as long as someone remains here in case they decide to coax us out earlier.  Vance, you up for it?” asked Lalyer.

Vance, who was stooping in the doorway, nodded, trying not to bang the back of his head against the lintel above.  “I’ll go again, the baker and I are becoming rather good friends,” said Vance, and smiled inwardly.  “But I may need more money.”

Lalyer sighed. “That’s also becoming a problem,” he said, “we are running a little thin on that too.  I’ll trade in my earrings if it comes down to it though.”  

“When should we leave?” asked Amena.

Lalyer looked over at her before replying, “Tomorrow morning.”  


Vance slept again that night, and had little trouble dozing off after the fitful rest he had for most of the day.  Amena woke him in the morning, and soon they were guiding their horses out of the woods.  The three of them approached the village after dusk and decided to make camp on a rolling hill overlooking the town of Whistlebarrow instead of going in late and stirring up the village.  Lalyer rubbed a gold piece with his thumb, trying to think of another way to win over the withering old Halfling magi as they lay looking at the dark sky above.  


“Get out of the trees!” Griver yelled to a group of halflings.  “Ya damned fools, there’s no where to go up there!  C’mon, get down to the grove!”  

When the bugbears attacked they had managed to mow down more than twenty of the weak Halflings before facing opposition.  The Halflings were now merely following an example Argus had made; he had sprung to the trees when he saw the first bugbears, and began firing arrows at them from across the clearing.  Griver had sprinted down the hill with his axe drawn, expecting the bugbears to come straight for them.  Instead, the enemy swept into each of the Halfling huts and began throwing all of the contents out.  

“What are they doing?” asked Griver.

“Can’t tell exactly, but they are throwing everything that’s in the huts out to the clearing,” said Argus.  “As far as I can tell, there are a few of them just keeping watch our way now that I managed to kill one of them.  I have a pretty good vantage point here if you want me to cover you.”

Griver watched as the Halflings scrambled up the hill behind him, probably to their sacred site.  The dwarf’s shoulders eased then tensed again before he replied, “Ready?  I’m going.”

Argus loosed a warning arrow towards one of the bugbears, and it collided with the Halfling hut the creature stood behind.  Griver had made his way through several of the huts towards the bugbears, and they craned their necks to watch where he went.  Argus counted the heads quickly as he notched another arrow.  With more than a few handful, Argus knew the dwarf was heading into trouble.  

“There are about six or seven watching you, Griver!” said Argus, “and plenty more in the huts!”

Argus saw the dwarf peer around the outside of a hut and wave an acknowledgement.  Argus adjusted his foot on a branch and took aim at a new target.  The arrow sailed high, and Argus knew that he was a small distraction this far out from the village.  He would have to wait for them to get to the huts closer to him before he could be a real threat, and they knew it too.  

Griver launched himself around the corner of a hut at one of the bugbears and his single-bladed axe hewed off its leg at the knee.  The dwarf then drove his shoulder into the beast’s midsection and it sprawled onto its back.  It began to sit forward, hands probing for its lost spear, when Griver’s axe dug deep into its chest.  A spear sailed through the hut’s roof over his head, and Griver withdrew around the corner of the hut.  He heard several pounding footsteps coming towards him, and decided to retreat further.  

Chasing the dwarf around the next hut, the first bugbear caught an axe in its gut, and the next one had the same axe cut deep into the flesh of its thigh.  Griver grunted as the second bugbear twisted in surprise, wrenching his wrist and sending the axe to the ground.  Seeing the predicament, the bugbear swung his sword down on the dwarf, connecting solidly with his wooden shield.  Griver rolled forward, picked up the long spear from the bugbear that now lay face down and spun to face his opponent.  

Argus had launched a number of arrows as to deter the bugbears from crossing through the wide-open clearing, and watched the action as they started to swarm towards Griver.  There were quite a few now, and Argus saw more coming as they ceased searching the huts.  “Get into the clearing!” Argus directed, “I can cover you there!”

Griver took a step backward and was blocked by another adversary.  Another joined them, and Griver threatened them with the spear, its length awkward in his hands.  Silently he drew a knife behind his shield before tossing the spear high at one of the bugbears.  It threw up its arms, providing the opening the dwarf was hoping for, and the dwarf struck.  Griver twisted away, feeling the warmth of its blood on his hand as he scrambled to the clearing.  He turned to face any pursuers as he walked backwards.  

Griver watched as first one, and then more of the bugbears walked openly towards him, their guards lowered.  Griver waited for a sniping arrow to correct their arrogance, but it didn’t come.  Griver knew before he turned what had happened.  Argus had been flanked, and they had worked out their plan as soon as he had taken to the tree.  The searching of the huts was probably a ruse to get them to attack, and then they simply out maneuvered the archer.  Griver saw three bugbears to his rear, and three more to the other side, surrounding him.  Beyond them he saw Argus’s still shape with an arrow protruding from his chest and mouth and eyes wide open.  
No wonder I didn’t hear him, thought Griver, the wicked arrow got his lung.


----------



## MarauderX (May 3, 2004)

*3*


Vance had greeted Martee by name as he approached, and instantly the man’s face became red.  He raised his chin and folded his arms as he looked at Vance sidelong.   

“Well?” Martee said.

“I would like to ask another favor of you,” said Vance, “one in which you will be paid in full as well as make up any difference that I overlooked last time.”

“It sounds good, but I’ll have to ask you to pay up front this time.” he said.  
“Fine, here is the gold” said Vance as he held purse open to show the few gold coins inside.  

“Good.  More bread?” asked Martee.  

“That and I need you to find me a horse or two,” said Vance, “as well as some dried fruit and cured meats to last a few weeks for half a score of hefty men.”

Martee picked up the gold pieces from the pouch on the worn table.

“It sounds like you aren’t going to by for a while,” he said, “going somewhere special?”

“We hope.  When do you think you can get everything for me?” said Vance.

“Well, the food’s not a problem, see, as the trade store probably has enough and then some.  The problem is the horses,” he said, “they are gonna be a little bit more than what you got here.”

“Check the bottom of the pouch.” said the elf.  

Martee scrounged through the pouch and produced two small emeralds, each of equal weight and precisely cut.

“These are elven make, right?” said the grinning man.

“Am I not an elf?  Trade them to get the horses if you need to.” Vance said.
Martee looked up and nodded.  

“Martee, I trust you to get the most you can with those.  Please don’t do anything…human…” said Vance, smiling.

“Right...and I know you’ll remember too, being a full elf and all.” said Martee.  
Turning on his heel, Vance walked toward the other side of the room.  His normally light hair was oily from not bathing in a week and was nearly the same shade as his worn black cape.  He saw now what he had heard in Martee’s voice.  The man had already acted in a ‘human’ fashion; several armed men acting as the local policing militia sauntered from the town square, and were looking straight at the bakers shop.  Vance glanced at Martee and swung around to find another exit.  

“I’m sorry I told them now, you have to believe I never thought you would come back.”

Martee opened the half door to the back and tipped his head for Vance to go out the back door.  

Martee said softer, “meet me after dusk, out at the grove of trees on the hill, where the children play.  I’ll see what I can do for you.”  

Vance looked out the back door and turned to face Martee, and with a quick nod of thanks Vance dipped out of sight behind the next home where he spied on the guards as they entered Martee’s bakery.  Guiding his horse quietly away, Vance trotted by the grove of trees Martee had mentioned.  He crested the hill and dismounted out of sight of the town and watched several children play on the trees as he sat in the tall grass.  

Nightfall came, and it was much later than dusk when Martee finally showed, his two donkeys loaded with supplies.  He stopped once he can near the largest of the trees and looked around.  Vance purposefully crunched loudly towards him and the man looked pleased to see him.  

“Here you are, Master Vance.  The donkeys are yours too, if you want them, since I couldn’t get but a week’s worth of jerky for you, though I made up for it with some sticks of bread that will last just as long.” said Martee.  

“Thank you,” said Vance, “I cannot tell you how glad that makes me.  Please take the last of my gold for your donkeys, it’s the least I can do, my friend.”
Martee took the small cloth pouch with only a handful of coins within it.  Smiling, Martee grabbed the elf by the shoulder and shook him pleasantly.  They heard more footsteps behind them, and Amena and Lalyer appeared behind Vance.  

Martee pointed with his thumb, “Well, I suppose I better be getting back, before the wife beats my head for being gone.  Take care, I’ll see you soon.”
Vance and the others led the donkeys through the night, with Vance leading and Amena in the rear, just behind the second donkey.  Just when they were starting to see the stars of the night disappear into day, one of the donkeys stumbled and collapsed.  Hopping off of their tired horses, they discovered it had stepped into a hole and sprained its leg.  They unloaded everything from the animal and decided to rest for an hour before proceeding on foot, letting their horses share the burden of the supplies.  

With the donkey slowing them down, they finally made it to the overgrown apple trees by mid-afternoon.  As before, no Halflings greeted them now, and Argus and Griver probably wouldn’t show any fanfare at their arrival.  Vance could sense something was not right.  He was quiet and led his horse on, talking himself into an uneasy comfort as he watched the village ahead.  Across the muddy open square Vance focused on an unusual silhouette against the afternoon sun.   Another five steps closer and Vance leapt from his horse to charge towards the village, leaving his burdened horse behind.  He had realized that he was looking at a figure of some type lying face down in the mud between two Halfling houses.  Amena was the first realize Vance had drawn his sword and was holding it discreetly behind him as he raced forward.  She yanked her bow up and struggled to string it while riding the horse, and glanced up to follow Vance.  

Vance dashed into the open yard looking for more signs of battle and seeing a few downed bugbears ran to one to inspect its condition.  It had been stripped of anything of value and looked several days old.  Examining the wound Vance recognized the angle and cut to be from Griver’s axe.  Vance’s back straightened and he sheathed his sword, realizing the threat was long gone.  Scanning the area for his friends now, he turned to face Lalyer and Amena as they approached, and Vance explained what had happened.  Unstringing her bow Amena cursed and kicked the rigid bugbear body.


----------

