Tales By The Fire

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  How the mighty get fallen
  • shadevar

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  Bacelar Diion, proud servant of Tyr, Paragon to the Divine Shield Order, arose in his bed disturbed, his palms and face just like the sheets wet of cold sweat. Twice, he blinked his eyes to gain minor focus on his surroundings. It was still dark outside, as dark as any night had been since the fall of his brothers. From below, the faint smell of roast and warm ale still crept up. But those eyes… He could not shake the vision from before him. The eyes still watched him. “I must warn the others.” Quickly, he got up and took hold of what little he carried, donning the plate that stood as symbol towards both The True, and his position with the Legion, heading down towards the common areas of the Regal Whore. “Evenin†sir” Mary barely managed, tossing aside one of the drunk to clean up the final mess in the inn room. Drudo yawned widely as he counted the earnings for the day, making ready for bed as well. All seemed as normal, not at all as the vision had shown him. There was still time. With an irresistible shiver, the Tyrean grasped the doorhandle, and paused. All had seemed fine as the dream had come to him that night as well. The children had been playing in the field, and all had seemed just as peaceful. Then, the dark had fallen, covering the quaint town like a cold blanket of death. Heâ€d raised his eyes towards the sun to see, and to his horror it had been black. Heâ€d looked once more around the town, and what heâ€d seen had horrified him beyond all imagination. Jiyyd was dead... In his dreams, the whole town had fallen to the cursed darkness. Everyone, friends, allies, peasants and children alike, all were dead. Yet their shadows still stirred, still they lived and moved, fed by the dark rays of the sun. And then heâ€d seen them, the eyes that still haunted him, the sadness, and the looks of pain and guilt, the pleadings for aid as they peered into his soul. There was something familiar about them, somehow he could not shake the thought heâ€d seen that look before, that he knew whom those eyes belonged to. But whom then? It made no sense. Bacelar Diion took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the night. It was darker than ever, black as the darkest cloth, as clouds obscured the moon and stars from sight. It was a time of darkness, and shadows... “Please Lerian, continue about the little boy.” The few men gathered within the confines of the Helmite temple listened with all interest to the strangerâ€s tale. Theyâ€d met him on the road to Jiyyd, and after exchanging some words, drinks and other pleasantries had followed him towards the temple. There, heâ€d told them about the poor Barnd gone missing, driven mad by unknown sources as his information told him. “Well, I am here to look for him.” The man that had called himself Lerian took mental note of his audience as he spoke. Kalis Reign, Allannon Damon and Amana Colds, the two first still rather young in years, but all men of sound heart and nature it would seem. Amana had expressed his allegiance towards the Vigilant earlier in their conversations as well, another good point to mark. It had been reason enough to speak to these men about the matter, and seek their aid. All help from those known within the town would prove useful. Yet the Inquisitor kept to choosing his own words with care for now, providing only the little information he deemed necessary to complete his task. The warnings from his superiors at the Helmâ€s Hold had not been in vain, there was reason enough to suspect treachery within the small hostel of Jiyyd, maybe even amongst their own ranks. And he, Lerian Orryngaard, Knight Inquisitor of Helm, Keeper of Trust, would not have been commissioned for this “minor” task if there was no reason for caution. Heâ€d learned very few details already in speaking with the locals, and the only thing his talks with the High Watcher Garnendar had revealed besides the matter was once again the need for caution. Lerian could not put his finger to what it was, but there was something not quite right about the man. “Be ever watchful of your enemies... “ In time, he would learn the truth, of that he was certain. Lerian Orryngaard was not known to fail. “Apparently, he spoke nonsense, about death returning.” Lerian continued, his expression not at all betraying his inner musings, his posure calm, relaxed, methodical. “Like the undead?” Lerian nodded towards Kalis†remark, considering their weight. “Aye.. something about death not being death no more. It's why I must find him soon. They took him to his bed to rest, but he disappeared a few hours after. He's not been seen since...” Lerian trailed off as he noticed what the others seemed to notice as well. As they were speaking, the halls of the Temple grew colder, to the point where he could see his own breath in speaking. The calm features on his face vanished, making way for a dark expression as his hand reached for the sword at his side. A dark taint of evil had crept up almost unnoticed, and it grew stronger now with each breath. Something was near... “I sense trouble coming” Alannon spoke the words that the others thought, and with that, all drew weapons and went for the main hall. The Temple halls were dark, pitchblack, obscuring near to every detail. A light tremor shook the hall, coming from deep below, as a deep cold sigh seemed to eere through the empty halls below. “I have see this before... darkness” Amanaâ€s words had not even grown cold yet when the darkness gave life to the shadows. One by one they emerged from within it, dark talons lashing out at the 4 men, hungry for their life, craving to take their warmth away and succumb their souls to the darkness. The battle erupted harshly within the sacred halls as steel met shadow in an effort to save both the Templeâ€s sanctity, and their own lives... “Morrrtaaalssss...” A dark loathing voice hissed from deep within the dark, freezing the blood of the warriors to a halt. The last few shadows remaining halted their assault, immediately retreating to the blackness that birthed them. “What is the meaning of this!” Alannon cried out in itâ€s direction, startled and uncertain of their fate, as the others moved closer with arms at ready. “Lisssstennn...” Without a care for anything else, the fiend issued itâ€s warning to them, fulfilling itâ€s bound task to the letter. And with every word it spoke, it foretold of what was to be. And with every breath, the men uttered reprisals of disbelief and unknowing. Soon enough, it lost itâ€s patience. As if it wasnâ€t bad enough already that it had been in need to strike the bargain with that pesky Watchling human in order to gain what it desired so much. Now it had to deal with zealot incompetents. “Foolssss!!!!!” It hissed clearly in anger. “You do notssss undersssstandd!!!” The outburst startled the men for a small moment, enough to regain their attention and lower their weapons another inch again. Maybe they were not as stupid as the fiend figured after all. “What is it that you want here?” “Rah! Mortalsss.....downn fall will come.” “Mortals will fall? The gods would not let such an extremity happen.” It uttered a mild curse. “Deathh cannot be denied! All will learrrn.....rrremember it morrrtallssss... and ssspread thisss worrrd... It isss yourrr only hope” It did not tire itself anylonger on mortal fools. Soon, it thought, this demeaning little task would be over, and itâ€s own time would finally come. Soon, when Garnendar completed the last of his side of the bargain. When –she- was ready... As quickly as it came, the darkness vanished again, leaving not a single trace of what had just occured. Lerian remained silent, almost untouched. Alannon looked at him, still somewhat shaken, as the others relaxed as well. “That was a warning...that thing eludes to a greater evil that comes to this land.” Lerian nodded calmly to his words. “That such a creature could come and desicrate the santity of this temple... “ Amana could not believe it, let alone accept, that Helm would even think to allow such a vile being in His own temple without aid nor reprisal. “That He would allow it in His halls sets us to think. Darkness is coming in time, my friends. Prepare.” Lerianâ€s words remained as calm as methodical as before, as if this was mere common fact. “This what, Lerian? Have you seen such a thing before?” “I have, more than once, sir.”, he replied. “Such fiends would shred your flesh from your bones for mere pleasure.” He watched them intently, curious for their thoughts and actions. “He must want his message spread...else we would not be breathing still.” This Alannon is a wise man, Lerian thought, atleast he speaks with thought. “The towns folk should not hear of this. They would not have the strength to understand.” Amanaâ€s remark was curious, but not unexpected. And in a way Lerian deemed him right. The Helmites seemed to have grown in quite a disliking over the last few weeks as he himself had noticed, and even when none dared to speak it, heâ€d sensed his Lordâ€s everwatchful gaze turning away from Jiyyd the moment heâ€d set foot within the townâ€s limits. Something was seriously wrong... if only he could see what. “I Must have your words sirs. That none shall know of what has occured here this day, save others of the temple.” Even when the others agreed to Amanaâ€s request, lerian shook his head, placing a palm upon the altar. “There is only one that can ask such of me, sir Amana. One, besides Helm. And that is my liege. I cannot grant you my word, nor can you ask for it.” Amana nodded unquestioning, and continued. “The word must go out though to others. The Order of the Divine Shield must know and start to prepare. They must learn that a great evil is coming, though we know not its form or when it shall arrive?” He looked at his companions for support to his words, or challenges for that matter. Lerian let go of a deep sigh, his eyes fixed upon the stone tablet, shaped to Helmâ€s Hand. “I must find the boy and learn what he saw...” The others fell silent. “I have no dealings with the town's affairs. If the priests wish to inform they may. They should even if it is in danger.” The man named Lerian parted soon after, agreeing to meet again within short notice to set out and find what had happened to Barnd...
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  Nakayama- Words of their existance
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  The History of the Scarred. Part II (Final) (Co-Authored End'su and Kuraki) The manâ€s attack on Endâ€su happened in moments but the results were horrible. The man a high level cleric in the service of Tyr had begun casting a soul banishment upon Endâ€su. At the very last moment Kuraki thrusted inward his short sword and dagger, severing the manâ€s back leg tendons. He collapsed to the ground and was met with a final blade through the throat. Endâ€s entire body was scorched with black scars that at the time were filling the small tunnel with dense smoke. Kuraki did his best to bandage his newfound ally and they staggered their way to the main chamber. “Hm…” End peaked an eye open and began to focus his surroundings. “What happened.” “SHH!” Kuraki shaded his hand over Endâ€s mouth and they both took in the scene silently. “Well it looks like we have a way out in any case…” Kuraki whispered and they began to stagger over the near hundred bodies that littered the floor of the chamber. It could be discerned that the Nakayama clan had been slaughtered along with the men to the east and south. Spread throughout the bodies were a handful of men that were covered in full metal armor. Their corpses despite the situation seemed to penetrate the darkness with a glow. Kuraki and Endâ€su Climbed up the smashed embank into the night streets of Luskan. Two years flowed by and the two grew in strength remarkably; but the scars End suffered remained fresh. They had learned from talk inside taverns and such that the Nakayama Clan was a highly respected and feared criminal organization that had nearly suffocated trade to the city. -Until an order of clerics had moved into the area. Word was they were a highly unusual order composed of clerics from dozenâ€s of different faiths. And they had one purpose: to demonstrate their strength. Clerics being some of the most powerful beings next to the gods themselves, naturally enjoyed exercising their power for whatever excuse they could come up with. -And so, the two began their ungodly crusade. To kill all of clerical faith and erase their existence. Times were rough and unforgiving but in the span of the next four years they managed to slay over 30 clerics of different faiths. It was never simple but their tactics were instinctive and their teamwork was unheard of. Each cleric slain they could feel some force from above bearing down on them, but they didnâ€t care. Finally when Endâ€su was about 18 and Kuraki 21, they heard rumor of many clerical powers existing in the areaâ€s of Norwick and Peltarch. They understood full well they would have to get close to these people before they would be able to strike. Kuraki and End engaged in relations with several including Khaya, Zanetar, and Cyrus but before their plans could be en-acted… a succession of ill events befell them. During a routine meeting in Peltarch for information gathering they ran into a hooded man. He was well set and had quickness in his body. They questioned him and found out he was in fact, Tenâ€su. The older brother of End. “Bastard! Didnâ€t you die back there with father?” End growled a level of hate filling his eyes. He reached forward and grabbed Ten by his collar. Tenâ€su Focused and the chuckled dryly grabbing Endâ€s wrist and crushing it. With one practiced toss, the cleric killer bounced like a puppet and smashed into a steel lamppost. Kuraki drew his two weapons and stared him down in a crouched pose. “Did you see my body End?” Tenâ€su smirked and cracked his knuckles. In one practiced spin Kuraki drew his short bow out of view and spun, letting an arrow soar. It was his famous surprise attack that always killed with a rupture of the brain, however, Tenâ€su remained calm and focused. With lightning quickness the strong man ducked and the arrow skimmed his skull removing his hood. Ten was bald! And covered with hideous scars like End… even on his face. “Alright thatâ€s enough … Iâ€m not here to fight.” Endâ€su pulled himself to his feet and he listened with distraction to his older brother. He discovered that Ten had been living in the same manner he was but with an even higher degree of focus towards the martial training taught in the catacombs. He had also received two more years of it from father. Ten also had a very large score board of cleric kills to his name which he flaunted. _Their meeting decided that they would all operate in the area of Peltarch and Norwick assassinating. If any of them were to suffer ill fate they would seek each other out. Things went as planned for a few weeks… and an incident occurred. Kuraki was recovering from a brush with death by slaying goblin, End alongside, when he was slashed in the back and collapsed. Endâ€su fighting a loosing battle with over five had to break into a sprint and left his ally. Upon returning to recover Kuraki, he was dazed and confused… how could this person he had lived with his whole life be dead? End carried the body to the south gate of Norwick but when was offered aid by a few clerics he shot back at them, his mind becoming consumed with anger. His twisted reality painted a picture of Kuraki being slain by clerics… Left with nothing but ambition, The un-armored man walked calmly through norwick and into the Nars. Perhaps he would seek out his brother._ Endâ€su Nakayama- Height 5â€9” , age 19, Weight 175 pounds. Eyes- Black. Hair- Silk black ponytail. Body- Covered with hideous black scarring. Mannerisms- Calm Stats: Str 16(heâ€s battle trained), Dex 14(heâ€s got sharp reactions), Con 14(Heâ€s got a tough skin), Wis16 (Heâ€s damn focused), Int8 (He never learned to read properly and has difficulty in speech), Chr8 (Heâ€s not a pretty boy)
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  Missing Body
  • Neferith

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  It has been some weeks since Green found the body of her friend, one of the first to help her upon her arrival in Norwick, lying not far from the safety of Norwick, overburdened with tin-ore and admidst the bodies of many fallen goblins. Tears coursed down her face as she carried Bilbow to the Friars. So soon, he had fallen, after his and her mentor, the wise wolf Grivel. She lay Bilbow in the Chapel, and took his Wolf-Cloak and his blackened armor for safekeeping. She than sat, and prayed fervantly to Mielikki, for her friends safe return. Too many of the protector's of the Woods had fallen of late, and too many of the young Bowstresses friends. No sign there was, from her Goddess. No confused, naked elf Ranger for her to comfort, returned from the dead. She waited through the night, and into the next day. Finally, greatly troubled and filled with sorrow, she wandered off into the forest. Days past, and still no sign of her friend. She returned Bilbow's enchanted cloak to a Wolf she knew, telling herself he would be back for it. She kept his armor in her pack, even though it slowed her steps a little. She was not ready to let Bilbow go, as he was young and full of promise, and surely, there was work yet in the forest for him to do. Some weeks had passed and Green could be found sitting in an oak overlooking the walls of Norwick, listening casually to some gossip about that bad intentioned Icky fellow and his many triumphs over girls who ought to know better, when she heard it. An unmistakable, sad lament from somewhere behind her, deep in the wood. Bilbow? As soon as it started in was gone, and try as she might, after leaping from the tree, Mielikki's little bowstress could not locate the source of the cry. She ended the night sitting sadly in a stump, thinking of friends gone but not forgotten, and wondering where her own path would one day lead her. It was a restless meditation, and she could not help but wonder if there wasnt something she might do to help her friend Bilbow find his way back to little Norwick, or find peace.
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  Rue Sin
  • Wykith

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  _Make me feel like a beggar Make me feel like a thief Make me feel like a battle That cannot end in peace Make me feel like running As if I've lost my nerve Make me feel like crying Tears I don't deserve Please bleed So I know that you are real So I know that you can feel The damage that you've done Oh, Who have I become? To myself I am numb, I am numb, I am numb Is this really living Sometimes it's hard to tell Or is it just a kind of gentler hell Turn out the lights And let me stare into your soul I was born and bled for you to hold Please bleed So I know that you are real So I know that you can feel The damage that you've done Oh, Who have I become? To myself I am numb, I am numb, I am numb Never said thank you Never said please Never gave reason to believe So as it stands I remain on my knees Good lovers make great enemies Please bleed So I know that you are real So I know that you can feel The damage that you've done Oh, Who have I become? To myself I am numb, I am numb, I am numb_ ((Ben Harper - Please Bleed))
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  El's Journal: The Search for Destiny ... & Kithanas
  • Crix

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  Gildor: Memories of a rogue
  • Yith

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  A Quest for Tyr - Kara Willendt's Diary
  • Kallethen

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  ((Just a note to say that this diary is now on my website at www.kallethen.tk. Go to the Writing page and then to stories of Kara Willendt.))
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  Do you remember Cila?´_the black notebook_
  • Aldurbuck

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  Ah, Cila. Perhaps long gone, but not forgotten. I still remember the day Peltarch first opened and Kanen and Cila explored it together, fun times. I'd like to hear any such stories.
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  The Journal of Anna Sigerlson
  • Arden_Chasemoradin

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  Of Mummies and Blackguards Anna stretches as she awakens from her nights slumber and takes out her journal and begins to write I arrived from Arabel but a few short days ago. I had not been in town more than a few hours when I met a gentleman named Kynas who is a follower of Kelemvor. I couldn't help but think of Kara. I proceeded to the fire where I bantered with Mirkali and an elf who looked remarkably like a Drow. I later discovered that the elf was Braeth Ma'Fen, a member of the Order of the Shining Phoenix, who was turned into a drow to resuce Lady Rith so many years ago. As we spoke, the gates opened and in ran Kit, the elf who lives in the woods near Norwick, and behind her was a contingent of mummies including one with some skill at arms. I drew my sword and called upon the might of Red Knight and charged into battle fighting the mummies and compelling their zombie companions to rest. The battle was a fierce one and Braeth and Mirkali showed great bravery as did Belma'r the hin mage who cast spells deftly and bravely. Many young adventurers rushed to our aid. Sadly, Kit fell during the battle but we were able to turn away the horrific monsters. We took kits body to the Friars where the good friar was amiable enough to call her spirit back from the outer planes. We proceeded to the South gate where there was a confrontation with a group of elves including, Mara, Callon, and Rary. These elves believed Braeth to be a drow and wanted him dead. After much discussion, Mirkali was able to persuade them that he was indeed a moon elf who was transformed. We decided to cast detect lies on Braeth and let them question him. Braeth was very noble to allow this to be done. As we were in the midst of the spell, a great crackle of magical energy appeared to the west and we we looked there stood a dark knight with a succubus. He ran at us and we ran out him and realizing he dealt impossible blows we entered into a strategy of hit and run. Allowing him to chase one while the others attacked. The battle drew to a halt as the black knight shouted for everyone to stop and called off his harlot from hell. Many had been knocked unconcious which was amazing for he could have killed him if he had been so inclined yet it seems that he was not seeking death. He shouted about the might of Asmodeus, which is one of the lords of the pits of hell. I assume I have now met the blackguard that I have heard roland. Mirkali moved to attack the blackguard and I touched his shoulder reminding him that it would do no good to die today. I announced to the blackguard that he could leave now but the Orders of the Divine Shield and the Shining Phoenix would eventually come for him. He said please do. As he left, he knocked mirkali to his knees. At the end of the battle, Saul the Servant of the Doombringer and I took those afflicted by the Succubus' touch to the Friar's and tended to their spirits. I then settled down to rest by the fire with Belma'r. As we bantered about the day and the weather, Saul came running pointing toward the graveyard and yelling for help. Belma'r and I ran to follow him and engaged a huge horde of undead in the Graveyard. There were scores of zombies and mummies. Many others joined us and all fought bravely. We fought hard and long. The battle raged for hours. Fortunately, none fell. I can't help but think these things must be linked to the blackguard. After the battle ended and I tended to those who were afflicted with the mummies foul diseases, I went into town to check on Angel, my dear cousin. She had fought very bravely in the battle as had Mirkali, Green, Mara, Saul, and many others. As I was heading toward the south gate, I saw a commoner lying dead with skeleton skulls around him! I drew my sword and ran toward the sound of battle calling on the strength of Red Knight again. As I entered the fray, there were great hounds of shadow and mummies and zombies attacking the town. We began to fight them many fought hard. An interesting point is that in addition to fighting us they undead were fighting each other as if they were two warring factions finishing some war that never ended. Andigar was struck and I rushed to his aid calling on the power of Red Knight to close his wounds and yelled for him to run. We fought again for hours and when the battle was ended there was a sword lying on the ground which was taken by Jeremiah, a local merchant. Khaya and I suggested we leave it with Fred as he has magical means to contain the object. There was much gnashing of teeth and distrust, but Ragnar's logic prevailed when he took the sword to lock it away. I feel very comfortable with the sword in Ragnar's care and being studied by Fred and the mages of spell weaver. I retired after being awake for over two days and fighting the hordes of undead. Now, I sit here awake and hoping that all is well when I enter the town. Anna closes the journal and begins to prepare to go out and see to the town of Norwick's safety
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  Natanya: The Featherlight Massacre and The fallen Paladin.
  • Yith

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  Revelation.
  • Attentus

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  Valeran Orbarskyr
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  --
  • The Snot Goblin

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  Leo Klensen the responsible brother.
  • Guest

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  Jiyyd. The quiet little town rumored to have bizarre activity from time to time, feels more like a clericâ€s retreat. Iâ€ve certainly benefited from this for a week here with out my infuriating brother has settled my nerves. Although I miss the fireside chats over in Norwick, itâ€s best I move on. The thought of returning to Waterdeep and the family store looks very appealing. Iâ€ll tell our parents that Dan is safe having established a stable group of friends. It will take them time to believe that Dan is fine on his own. My new affliction will also be difficult for them to accept but Iâ€m sure it will all work out. Iâ€m ready to deal with their “suggestions” and guilt as well as leave my brother to his whims. While reading my receipt for travel on the worn bench, a man clad in black, boldly walked through the gates, place two sharpened staves in the ground and plunge severed heads on top. If that wasnâ€t gruesome enough, he proceeded, with a smile, to saw off the ears placing them in a pouch at his side. I looked around for the guards or any one else for confirmation on this bizarre site. I found that I was alone. I am quite aware of my limits. A contest of strength with him would not be in my favor. The man looked directly at me waved his gloved hand then walked off laughing. A few minutes later, I exhaled the breath I apparently held as I sat in shock. Perhaps I will wait a few more days for the next caravan. I guess I should check on Dan.
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  Nothing serious
  • Nerialka

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  ((original drawing from Luis Royo, modified to add the grey hair and the flames))
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  Alice: The Diary of a Sorceress
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  "Ravens can fly over walls"
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  Ghost of the Wilds - Red Meets Green
  • Kerby

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  From hearth to unearth a gem beyond a golem. She had been feeding on fat grubs in the swamp near the Farm Box. Near the Bromley Estate when she heard many voices in his Box. Perhaps he was planning. She listened and heard her own name being mentioned. Seems they wanted a trapper. Well… this would be fun... and she just may get a chance for a bit of vengeance as well. She scratched on the door and stepped to one side. The door opens to a flood of warm light. Once her eyes adjusted and she heard the Old Singers voice, "Hello?" then a moment later, "Hmpfh". She slipped in once his back was turned and he was shutting the door. She stood in his shadow while the eyes of those around were on him. "No one." Off to one side she slipped and found a comfortable chair... with soft pillows even. She made herself comfortable in the shadowed light of the flickering of the firelight. It was quite a gathering that Adam Bromley hosted. Had he not been human, she would have sworn him gnomish with the nose he had for sniffing out trouble. Cera Amalith, the seer and planewalker of the Rom... Ka'ell, one of the head magus of the Emerald Circle... Khaya, a Knight of the Divine Shield and a member of the elusive Phoenix... Krig Skullboil, the ever gruff head of the Crafter's Guild and a mighty battle priest of Tempus... Maya, the mighty wild warrior whose barbaric charms captured even the greatest of bachelorâ€s hearts... Samson Swarthout, whose loyalty to friend, Helm and country outstrips all others... Talgrath, a more stalwart bastion of the arts of war have seldom been found... and young Zyphlin Re'cual, the apprentice to Adam and a shadowy bard whose dark charms and quick mind make him deadly to any mystery. It was a gathering up to the task they seem set upon. Listening quietly, it was obvious their goal... to acquire the stone before the Red Wizards did. The details of how and why were really inconsequential to Kharbeh. To strike a blow to those that caused her home and family harm would be enough. When her name was once again mentioned by Adam... that he had hoped the message had been received by the pixie trapper... that is when she coughed. They quickly brought her up to speed. As she listened, she checked her pouches. Would she have enough tricks? She thought it would suffice. She knew she would be of little value to them against the sleepwalkers, as Cera Teapot called them... the undead felt no pain. And that is what Kharbeh was good at. Finding the pain points to cripple a foe. So... she would certainly be laying many traps to make up for it. The traveled southward that night. All of them quiet but buzzing with a certain excitement. Once they reached the Wood Box (Norwick) they would be picking up a device that Adam described as a magic sniffer. A device the Red Weaver's had built and would find the stone they sought. She did do not know how Adam came into possession of it, but she hoped that it had caused the deaths of not a few red robed individuals. One thing for certain... it was not meant for travel. Even Sam and Talgrath had difficulty picking it up much less carrying it between the two of them. Before they departed, some went to stock up on food, others to relax and drink, still others to rest. Kharbeh sat on the cliff top at the top of the waterfall overlooking the town and watched the moths flutter too close to the torch outside of the spinning fan box on the top of the hill. The next morning they left town in ones and twos, so at to not arouse suspicion. They met later that afternoon outside of the elven encampment, delighted and nervous to be on their way. The group was tight... but they would loosen and adjust to each other... they hoped. Kharbeh led the path as usual, quickly and quietly working her way to the old cliffs in the back of the ancient woods. The forest was oddly quiet of the prehistoric animals that normally prowled the woods. They neared the waterfall that hid the entrance... had it not been for the warning behind her... the roar of the waterfall had drown out the sound of the approaching paws. She turned to give the all clear sign to see the body of a huge wolf... with Krig pulling his blade from its spine. She grinned and winked at him. It's always good to know there are friends at your back when blazing a trail. She had been behind the falls twice before. She knew the metal beast that still followed itâ€s ancient orders. It was built tough... with a magic that had latest thousands of years. It would knit it's metal like a troll's meat mends. Only magic would temporarily stop the thing. And the gas it gave off... even Kharbeh dared not test it's strength against her resistance to the poisons of nature. They gathered quietly and talked through their battle. Kharbeh took the time to set up a veritable wall of traps between them and where the metal golem normally marched while they talked. She was not one for waiting in a place such as this. The thing must have seen the light. At least it would not surprise us. We could hear the tromp of it's feet reverberate against the cave ceiling long before even Kharbeh's sharp eyes spotted it glint into the light. She growled at the same time the weavers chanted their songs. The Old Singer Adam unfurled a scroll behind her and trapped the beast with webs as thick as chains. It ground it's way forward as lightning buzzed like a grasshopper jumping in random directions. Arcing to the machine it melted plate to plate, crippling it's left leg. Kharbeh took out the magic stick the Green Weaver Ka'ell had lent her the night before. With practiced intonation, she spoke the words and points the stick at the metal contraption. It surprised even her the brightness of the flash. Now it's waist would not pivot. As it reached the edge of the web, Sam and Talgrath set down the magic sniffer and readied their weapons. Adam took out a stick as well... magic shards bolted towards the beast like a swarm of angry bees... charring the metal and making it brittle. Cera too arched the same sky blue bolts from her fingertips, doing and odd dance as her face contorted into a childlike laugh of glee. It was taking a beating and had not yet touched one of us. That would change quickly. With it's good arm it's thirty foot height swung low and backhanded it's forearm right into Sam's waiting shield. The clang was louder than the lightning's thunderous report. It lifted even Sam clean off his feet and pushed him back several feet. But he took the blow like only Sam could. With grim determination, he stepped back up for another. Same time Talgrath was punishing a reinforcement of his the monstrosities left ankle joint. A bellow and Krig waded into the battle... ducking the giant's blows like it was a flesh version of the mountain giants he grew up on, the dwarf called on his battle lord and the caves night was suddenly day, as the beast was lit up by the blaze of Tempus himself. The beast bellowed back a green cloud that caught the Ka'ell in mid gasp. He took in a full breath of death and with eyes rolled back he hit the ground hard. The left ankle went and the beast toppled to the left. Nearly taking out young Zyphlin as he bolstered the group's spirits with song. Shard of magic from exploded from Cera once more in a song of power and the beast head shot off like a bullet in a huge sling... clanging against the cavern walls and tolling like a bell... announcing our arrival. The Lost City was about to be found.
• 

  End
  • anti-robot

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  Dark lashes separated to reveal bright grey eyes. Berret's breath caught for a moment and she could clearly hear the familiar shouts of fishermen on the west docks. She exhaled slowly. What a strange dream. She stretched lazily and settled back into the rich linens. Rising was always such a chore when the bed was so soft. She would have to request a gown of the strange Maztican fabric: it was like silk and satin combined. For a time she listened to the sound of night drawing on as it wafted on a balmy breeze through the high window of her chamber. She sometimes wondered how it was possible to sleep through the racket of an Athkatlan market day . . . but then perhaps that explained her frequent odd dreams. Nevertheless, she shouldn't dismiss this one. She did have responsibilities, and it was long past time she embraced them. She slipped from under the scarlet sheet and stretched again as she approached the window. The salt air full of fish and sweat and heat and water had become a comfort, but more and more she missed the crisp air from above the falls in Silver Valley. Her training was complete . . . or very nearly so. Affairs in Trademeet were finally settled–it was no doubt time to began the long voyage home. As her sharp eyes scanned the golden water below the setting sun on the far horizon, she made out the form of a swiftly approaching ship. As if on cue, a knock came at the door. She smiled as she turned. Her ride home was ahead of schedule. ((uhm . . . nevermind?))
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  Callon's Journal
  • Adriell

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  30th of Eleint 1422 DR Good fortune, for we have found another caravan going east. They say they are going to a small village in the province of Narfell. Anywhere is better than the road right now, so I have decided to join them. The others follow as well, but I feel we will go our separate ways at this town. Rathgar took Merin's loss very hard, and I hope he can find forgiveness for whatever demons he now carries. For while it has been an adventure to meet these companions, and to learn new things, now I only wish for a bottle of elven wine, a warm bed and a soft song.
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  Gildor: Rambling Rover
  • Yith

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  Gildor settled down at an empty table and stared intently at a crack on the surface. Molly, a plump barmaid with a far too small corset, strolled over with her bust wobbling in a manner that defied gravity. She sent a quick glance to the kitchen to make certain Orwell was occupied elsewhere, while she shuffled a chair out and sat. “say Gildor, tha†fellow you spoke to earlier, Jarek, is he really a fallen Paladin?” Molly looked intrigued. Gildor shifted, leaned foreword and dropped her chirpy voice in to a whisper. “A fallen Helmite to be exact. Quite tha famous lad back in tha day, now sort of pathetic and pitiful, heh.” “what happened” she asked, excited, her breasts nearly spilling out as she leaned foreword. “I would tell ya wha I know Molly, but it will ‘ave tha be another night, me throat is dry” Gildor fixed her with an amused look and watched as the woman scrambled to a stand and retrieved a large tankard of mead. “Ya know me too well” Gildor chuckled heartily, settling back in the chair, sipping her drink. “Very well, but I canâ€t promise tha it is all true, most is based on rumours and drunken tales.” “All rumours has to derive from something” Molly reasoned. “Once Jarek was renown for ‘is ‘eroism, some even claimed ‘im tha be tha chosen of Helm ‘imself, though such reputations are long lost. ‘e was ‘appily married to this noble bird, daughter of one of tha senators or somethinâ€, ‘as two beautiful kids, a lill†lad and a lass. It is quite tha unremarkable tale really, ‘e was out doin†what Paladins do best, savin†orphanages from demonic forces and shite like tha, donâ€t really know for sure, but it was some sort of crusade. One night ‘er returns after not seein†‘is noble wife for months, rushes upstairs tha find ‘er in an un-noble position with ‘is best mates dagger, buried in his wives scabbard.” Gildors laughed, and watched the barmaids eyes widen as she made sense of her imagery. “Well tha make a story short, tha tired, frustrated Paladin went a lill†funny and struck ‘is mate down, killin†‘im on tha spot. Helm dumped ‘im, Wife dumped ‘im, and ‘e was dumped in to a cell for seven years.” She took a long sip of her tankard “He was released due to past service to tha country, and since then ‘as spent most ‘is time doin†charitable work in tha slums, spendin†wha little coins ‘e can scrape together on liquor to smite tha demons in ‘is ‘ead remindin†‘im of ‘is stupidity.” The barmaid seemed to swell under the discovery of her newest gossip. Like Gildor when faced with gold, Molly weakness lay in rumours and tales from drunks, who had drowned any sense of tact and wisdom. She leaped up, suppressing a squirm, while Gildor suppressed a laughter. With the elegance of a Hobgoblin, she ran in to the back room shouting for one of the other servant girls. Gildor left in the stillness and smoke of the inn, made her way out the door, and in to the street. It had been a long and tiring day, and it was not yet over.