Scattered Embers: Flames Rekindled (story)

[dragon wench]

Just as the lanterns began to sputter, the meeting drew to a close. Upon exiting the hut Tashara saw that a blood red full moon had risen in the sky. She was cautious about assuming that slightly unnatural occurrences were the herald of something sinister, but nonetheless, she shivered.

Those elves who had been assigned guard duty over the orcs stepped out with her; they seemed equally uneasy at the enormous, crimson orb that cast a faintly pink glow upon the settlement.

Tashara said nothing and headed towards her own hut. She had volunteered to help with guarding the captives, but the elves had insisted she rest instead, reminding her that she had a long journey ahead and would need to sleep in order to restore all her magic.

Her feelings were mixed. This elven community had been home for four years. After the battle with the Abomination she had remained with the Dark Flames for approximately half a year, but her need to confront warring inner demons had driven her to wander. The Dark Flames had asked her to stay, but all understood her need to leave; each and every one of her friends had witnessed her crumbling hold on sanity and composure in those final months.
It had been the half elven priestess, T'lainya, who had mentioned this settlement to her, relating that most within were rangers or druids. The priestess had perhaps known that if Tashara were accepted, it would be here that her shaken friend would find the peace she sought.

Tashara's path had meandered and criss-crossed through different towns and cities, rugged hill country, dessert, and deep forest. Eventually, her travels had led her to the verdant, sheltering forests of Tethyr. She had discovered both acceptance and peace. Her elven friends had gently steered her into the ways of the druids, and by acquiescing to their quiet instruction she had also began to reconcile conflicting angsts.

Thus, she felt some reluctance at leaving the green sanctuary that had become her home. It would not be forever, of course, she would need to report back to the elven war council. But, something told her that once she left the borders of Tethyr her old life would beckon and she would be unable to resist the sirens calling her name.

Anticipation also tugged at her, like an insistent child demanding attention. Tashara had been restless of late, and transformations into her wolf shape had been increasingly frequent.

The walk back to her hut took her along a small pool fed by a freshwater spring, and for a moment she paused beside it, drinking in the calm it offered. Standing torches, lanterns, and the eerie moonlight provided enough illumination for her reflection to appear, almost ghost-like, in the water. With some detachment she stared at it. Large, charcoal blue eyes returned her gaze. They were slightly slanted at the corners nearest to her temples, suggesting ever so faintly perhaps some Kara-Turan, or possibly elven, ancestry. Yet, few would have ever guessed that she was anything other than human. Long, fine hair cascaded over firmly set shoulders and a fairly small frame. Her hair puzzled her. For a reason she had not come to understand it had turned from a dark blond shade to nearly black. Perhaps it had been strange magics at work in the Abomination's tunnels, perhaps it was something else; she knew not.

Somewhere near, an owl gave out its quiet hoot... the call of a hunter. Tashara smiled into the water, suddenly eager to search out the prey that awaited beyond the forests.

Wanting to set out at first light, she packed before settling down to sleep. There was not much. A few personal possessions, numerous healing potions, a change of clothing, a bed roll. Her armor she would wear, the longsword would rest in its sheath across her back; a dark, earth-hued, cloak would cover all. It was still cool enough for a cloak to be necessary at times, and she liked the anonymity it provided.

Sleep beckoned now. Her mind composed, Tashara lay down, quickly drifting into dreamless sleep.

[Tower_Master]

Absently blowing a lock of her curly red hair out of her eyes (dratted stuff never stays put!), the tavern wench tiredly looked around the common room of The Rusty Nail. Patronage was never high at this time of the day, but even so, this was almost unheard of, even in Windhaven. The place felt almost empty! If things continued this way for too long…Well, that was neither here nor there. The dratted gnome lying across her table in a drunken stupor, on the other hand, could be dealt with now. Sighing, she trudged over to wake him up.

“Mm, yes, Miss Scratchy, a little to the left now…A little to – Wha?” Bleary eyes opened to see the most peculiar apparition ever! What fell demon stood before him that walked on the ceiling in the guise of a tavern maid??? Such evil could not be allowed to continue! Jusht let me get my showd... The half-gnome surged up from his place on the…table? Why am I on the table? Watsh going on here? And, why doesh even the voish in my head shound drunk? Scratching unkempt brown hair, Sir Kayle the Magnifundius looked up from his newfound seat on the floor at what he now recognized as the tavern maid of this “fine establishment” – The Rushty Shpoonsh, right? Staring owlishly at her face, it took him several moments to realize she was waiting for a response…to what? When in doubtsh, jusht flirt! “My, ishn’t it a beautiful day, mish? You ish looking quite *yawn* pretty, if I do…if I do shay sho, myshelf…which I dosh!” That shhhould help. Nothing like a bitsh of charm to cover up falling on onesh rear in the middle of a inn.

“Watch your mouth, you vile little rat! As I said, you’ve been here for a good half a tenday, drinking yourself to sleep in our common room every night, and the Inn hasn’t seen a bent copper for it! Why, I have half a mind to…”

“I shahy, mish! You should watsh your tongue more carefully when addreshing a knight! Why, I am Shir Kayle the Magnifundius, Guardian of the Three Vishually Impaired Rodentsh, Scourge of –

“You’re a drunk little Gnome, that’s what you are! Knight my arse! Get out of this Inn!”

“Half-Gnome, shank you very *hic* mucsh, mish, and I havesh half a – HEY! Get you *hic* hansh off of –!”

“And stay out!”

Kayle winced as the door slammed behind the huffy barmaid. My poor tailbonesh! Wincing, dirty hands felt around his head, feeling out a new lump earned through valiant combat with evil. Thrown out in the middle of a street like a sack of potatoes by a demonic bar wench. The middle of a shtreet? Not the mosht dignified plashe for a…wait…I ish a Knight, right? Yesh, yesh, a knight. Reaching into his bag, Kayle pulled out his favorite crossbow, mournfully staring at the scratch in the finish. I really should get that fixshed. Dishgrashfull, really. “What’re we to do now, eh? Thrown out of the Clanky Shpoon – where am I shupposed to get beer now? Sho inconshiderate! People thesh daysh are -"

What exactly people these daysh were, his crossbow never found out, as Sir Kayle, still quite inebriated, slumped over and started snoring in the middle of the street, cuddling that most listening of crossbows to his chest.

[dragon wench]

Dawn came early to the elven settlement.

Tashara lost no time in pulling on clothing and hoisting the slightly heavy pack to her shoulders.

Her good-byes to the elves were tinged with sadness. They somehow knew that she would eventually be leaving for a long time...

Not much fond of long, tearful farewells though...
Tashara did not linger beyond the well wishes and fervent hopes that she would learn something of use. She promised that she would report back as soon as her investigation yielded fruit.

Just as the sun was ascending, casting its pale, golden glow amongst the trees, Tashara stepped upon the path that would lead eventually lead her to Shilmista... also known as The Forest of Shadows.. It lay just outside the Tethyr forest, and within the borders of Amn.

[Demortis]

A lone figure walking a deserted path. The path is covered in dust, and the trees are tall, blocking out most of the red moonlight.

“One of those nights again.” He says to himself.
The wind answers him with a light breeze, picking dust up, like it is clearing the path for him.
“Damned Orcs, wanting to pay me to take out some Gnoll encampment, so what its on the other side of the damned forest! I hate Gnolls and I for damn sure hate Orcs!” he says.
He moves to a boulder, and smashes it with one punch, try to calm him self. The rock turns to rubble and he sits down in front of it, in a meditative position.

“Just calm down, anger wont help you get to the next town. All you need to do is calm down, get to town, get a drink and find a couple of wenches. That’s all.” He reminds himself.
He regains his composer and begins to walk toward town. As he walks into town he enters the “Hanging Door” inn, a semi-known tavern in Windhaven, known for the bar brawls that break out. The man shifts his cloak around, exposing several tattoos on his body.

“Hey, I bet that’s the Ki Warlord! I’ve heard stories that he was tattooed from head to toe.” A man says.
“Hey, your right! What was his name?” another asks.
“Broken, Broken, Broken Bones?” the first asks.
“Nah, more like Broken Steel.” The other replies.
“Broken cod piece?” the first asks.
“Broken Blade.” The cloaked figure says.
“Hey, that’s right. Wasn’t he named that cause he had blocked and broken swords with his forearms?” the first man asks.
“Nah, wasn’t cause swords were broken when he was born?” the other asks.

Broken Blade, the Ki Warlord, payed for a room in the tavern, shakes his head in disappointment at the stories he hears and goes to chats acouple of wenches up, and takes them to his room for some fun.

[T'lainya]

T'lainya smiled as she saw Endelia and Xivaril waiting by the city gates. Endelia was wearing chain mail and a weather stained cloak. She looked at ease in her travel gear, a contrast to the younger elf beside her. Xivaril was wearing his robes, a new soft elven cloak and polished new boots. Endelia followed T'lainya's gaze and grinned.

“At least it's not a long journey south.”

T'lainya grinned back and said. “I took the liberty of bringing some healing salve, just in case.” She looked at the heavy pack, stuffed to the brim with each and every item Xivaril thought he might need and grinned again. “Are you sure you have everything? You seem to be missing the fireplace.”

“I think I saw him toss it in the bottom of his pack.” Endelia said mischievously.

Xivaril blushed and said sheepishly. “I wasn't sure what I might need.”

T'lainya laughed and patted his arm. “I was teasing. You'll want to have a few familiar things around you.”

Endelia agreed. “Let us be off then, the day is young and we have many miles to go.”

The guard saluted the trio as they passed through the stone arch. “May the Seldarine protect thy path.”

“May the day bring peace and joy to thee brother.” T'lainya raised her hand in blessing to the guard. The path out of the city was winding, passing great boulders and imposing statues. T'lainya was explaining to Xivaril how they would animate if the unthinkable came to pass and Evereska was besieged. Endelia smiled, enjoying the warm breeze and faint scent of pine. Xivaril looked up once, his sensitive ears had caught the faint sound of a footfall.

“Did you hear that?”

“Aye, it's one of the regular patrols. You did well to hear it.” Endelia said. Suddenly she frowned. “Do you smell that? It smells like apples.”

“I smell it too.” T'lainya looked around but just as suddenly the faint fruit scent was gone. She murmured a few words, as did Endelia, but the divination spells revealed nothing. “Xivaril, perhaps you could cast a few protective wards for us.”

Xivaril nodded happily, feeling useful for the moment. He chanted low and melodious, casting the proper wards. He finished and looked over to see T'lainya gathering a few leaves from a small green plant with small lavender blossoms.
“What's that?”

“Catnip. It's used for fever reduction, toothache, allergies and is a main ingredient for the Cat's Grace spell.” T'lainya smiled. “Perhaps you should harvest a leaf or two.”

Xivaril bent down and carefully plucked a few leaves, wrapping them tightly in a small herb pouch. “Maybe I can learn more herb lore from Dermondil.”

“He'll teach you the use of every plant in Fearun.” Endelia said. “You're lucky to study under him.”

The mountains were giving way to foothills now, the trees replaced by grass and scrub. The air was warmer, heavy with the droning of bees. Rabbits played in the distance, disappearing when a hawk circled overhead casting a shadow over the plains. They walked on, aware that the elven patrols were less frequent here. The trees were thicker now, stands of beech and maple, great oaks and chestnut. They had decided to travel south, near the western edges of the Stormhorne mountains. They would avoid the marshes of Tun and continue south.
T'lainya and Endelia were poring over a map of the region, pointing out various elven settlements and points of interest to Xivaril.

[Bloodstalker]

Bloodstalker sat quietly at a table in the Ladies Blessing. It wasn't a large establishment, but in tradeoff for it's size, it seemed to attract very little of the more more boistrous crowd that frequented the Hanging Door. Not to say that it lacked for entertainment however. As one could guess from the name, the owner fancied himself a gambling man of sorts, and a large roulette table dominated the center of the room, along with a couple of smaller gaming tables. While occasionally a gambler would become agitated, or some other trouble would break out, for the most part, it was generally a friendly atmosphere which was why BS kept a room here.

He had considered calling it a day after he'd gotten himself squared away, but it had been a long while since he'd been able to just relax and enjoy the atmosphere so he had decided to hang around for awhile. Besides, he had the sneaking suspicion that Delin would be around before too long, and he'd really prefer not being dragged out of bed to answer any questions.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Delin appeared in the doorway, a look of contained amusement threatening his normally calm expression as he made his way over to the table, took a seat, and ordered his drink.

"What in the Nine Hells did you do to get Pensby's feathers so ruffled?"

BS glance over, trying to project the right amount of innocence into his voice. "We had a simple disagreement. He wanted to cut my pay for this last run, I disagreed, and after some civil discussion, he thought it better to pay, as he so eloquently put it, an arm and a leg figuratively rather than literally."

Delin laughed, trying to imagine BS in civil negotiations and failing miserably at it. Esp with such a pompous windbag as Pensby."I thought you always said you didn't care that much about money. What made you jack the price up for this trip that made him feel he couldn't pay?"

"I didn't" BS replied, looking suitably indignant. "I told him before I hired on he was offering too much for simple guard duty.He wouldn't hear of it. Swore my particular talents were vital. Seems he'd brassed off some wizard or other."

Genuine surprise lit Delins features." Pemsby? I don't believe it. The man starts sweating when he thinks there might be rats in his store. What could possibly have motivated him to do something that stupid."

BS shrugged his shoulders, showing he didn't particularly think it was much of a stretch to imagine. "Probably nothing. Likely walked on the wrong side of the street and got dust the wrong persons robes, or maybe he bought the last scrap of paper at the store and someone needed to make out a grocery list. You know, any one of the multitude of things some wizards can see as world ending tragedies. Not like it mattered anyway, like I told him, most likely it was all talk to get him to shut up and go away. Most of them like to do that sort of thing so they can get back to their tomes, but most of them never even think again about it afterwards. Still, he insisted he pay me a large sum, and I won't be cheated simply because his allpowerful demi-god spellcaster was a no-show."

"You do have a jaded veiw of mages, don't you?" Delin chuckled wryly.

"Not all of them."

"Ah, yes, I seem to remember you telling me about keeping company with a powerful group a few years back." Delin observed BS thoughtfully for a long moment before resuming in a teasing tone."Such a group could prove useful if anything comes of this orc rumor. Hope you have a few favors left to call in."

BS grinned a bit at that."It's only orcs, and you said yourself that you don't have any real leads. Besides, I haven't seen any of them for years. The could be anywhere by now, if they even stayed together."

"I always wondered why you never went back.It's not like you don't travel enough anyway."

"I've just never had the chance I suppose. After I left, things got...hectic for awhile. Since things settled, it just never seemed the right time to look up old aquaintances, even if I could have found them. Besides, I'm not entirly certain as to what such a meeting would mean. My life is a lot different than it was then. I realize some of the mistakes I made prior to leaving, and it's a bit embarrassing to think back on them honestly."

"And it's difficult to forsee how the old life would merge with the new. I know the feeling. Still, it's all speculation anyway." Delin commented, not wanting to seem like he was pushing. "So, how about another round? You pay of course, since you seem to have extorted a fortune today."

BS rolled his eyes in mock irritation and signaled for the drinks, not bothering to question what Delins excuse had been for the last twnety time BS had bought.

[Magrus]

Snirf glances at the equipment and then, suddenly it starts coming off of the bodies on its own and floating into the chest built into the back of the cart. He strips the bodies of more than 100 of the creatures of their fine weapons and armor. While doing so, the little gnome spares a bit of concentration to say

"No sense letting this sit for others of their group to come by and find it I say. We'll save a set as evidence to research later, but what do you say to going to sell this stuff for some gold and scouting out some rumors about this mess shall we? I can't bring my cart into this here forest and I don't like the thought of leaving Nhutcluk and my cart here with these orc bands around. He can take care of himself, but not against a horde like this, no no no. Shall we be off to town?"

Setanta ponder's a moment and says

"I could use a rest and some cleaning up, why not. Lets go get some food and and actual bed for a night while we find out what this town knows."

He then hops back into the cart and Snirf joins him. Snirf pulls on the throttle and gives Nhutcluk a swift boot and they're off. Wandering for days, they encounter nothing, when suddenly arrows fly through the night air after them from a small stand of trees.

Snapping his head around, Snirf spots archers in the trees and growls as the arrows bounce off of his cart.

"You ready for a fight Setanta? I don't like chancing a scratch on my ride!"

Setanta grimaces and clenches his fists and nods as Snirf turns the cart around and tells his lizard to charge the stand of trees. Concentrating, he raises a glowing barrier around them, chuckling as the arrows bounce off of it and onto the ground around them. Drawing nearer, Snirf concentrates again and sets off a blast of psionic energy, stunning the creatures as Setanta leaps from the cart at the nearest stunned creature, bringing him to the ground.

Nhutcluk draws near, stretches out and clamps his jaws down on of them hiding up in a tree, pulling an orc into view.

Setanta wrestles with one of the orcs, snapping his neck, grabbing the dead creatures bow and firing an arrow at an orc in a nearby tree before rushing after another to bear him to the ground. As this is going on Snirf fires off rays of electricity at the orcs in the trees. Within moments all of them lie dead in the area as Setanta brushes himself off and trots back towards the cart saying...

"These were outfitted with that same type of armor. Orc bands on the move, and archers positioned near roads. This doesn't bode well."

Snirf nods and says "Lets push on through the night so we can make it to town by morning rather than setting camp then."

They head out and roll into the town of Windhaver as the easter sun crests the horizen.

[dragon wench]

Tashara's path twisted and meandered through hushed glades where vines and leaves intertwined, sweeping to the rich humus and loam beneath her feet. Or rather.. paws..

The sharp freshness of the early morning air, the slowly climbing sun, and the anticipation of adventure and travel had swept through her as she gradually left all traces of the elven settlement behind. A sudden surge had overtaken her, and within an instant the transformation had occurred. Course, almost black, guard hairs, and a fine silken undercoat had replaced slightly olive skin and long, dark hair. Hands and feet became paws... Ears and nose instantly became aware of smells and sounds indiscernible to human, and even elven, senses.

She smiled.. Well that was perhaps not the word, but any observer would have viewed a distinctly wolfish grin on the creature loping through the woods. Aware that sticking to a path could be dangerous while shapechanged, at least once she left elven territory, Tashara instead chose deep forest and camouflaging undergrowth....

...Perhaps 500 humanoid paces ahead, something stirred and scampered. Keen, forward pointed ears and a sharp sensitive nose picked up the cues instantly.. rabbit.

Tashara had not eaten much that morning in her eagerness to depart, and the rumbling in her stomach at the scent of food served to remind her of this fact acutely. She did not pause, but her gait slowed...

...The wolf became hunter... lean, furry belly close to the earth... every muscle poised to pounce. In that moment, there was nothing of the human within that remained. Raw, animal instinct had completely taken over.

Several seconds later, and all the rabbit knew was rapidly descending darkness as strong jaws closed over ears, eyes and brain..

The wolf tore into its prey with savage abandon, savoring meat, fat, blood and the crunch of fragile bone.

Hunger satisfied.. she moved onwards... seeking her far more sinister prey.

[werebeargoddess]

Kieshe jogged easily in the direction of the smoke. Before long, she saw where it was coming from- a farmhouse. Or what was a farmhouse. She got fairly close to the ruin and stopped, eyes slightly wide. She had seen destruction before, and death; but this stunned her. Who could have done this? And why? What kind of creature would go after a simple farmer? She shook her head. She was being naïve, and she knew it. There were plenty of things that would go after a farmer and his family.

There was a small stream nearby; she went to it and put her pack on the bank, making sure no damage came to her lute. She wasn’t worried; she would have known if there were any intelligent creatures here besides herself, for they would, like her, make noise, and she would hear them. She collected a bit of would to make a fire later, and set off to inspect the destruction. She had started inspecting the ruin’s outer edge when she heard the crying. It sounded like the crying of a human child. She stopped what she was doing and went over to inspect it. She soon found where the noise was coming from. A little boy, no older than five or six, was huddled in the dirt, his face in his arms, wailing. Kieshe reacted instantly, kneeling next to the boy, speaking softly to him. She didn’t know if it was her voice, or because she was a familiar being, or even if it was because she was old enough (if barely) to be his mother, but the boy came to her, sobbing into her shoulder, wailing something she couldn’t understand through his tears. She picked him up and carried him to where her pack was.

It took a good while before Kieshe could get the boy calmed down enough for her to clean and feed him. He had looked at her a little skeptically when she offered him food at first; but after she ate a bit to show him that the food wasn’t poisonous, he bolted it down ravenously. When he had had his fill, he settled tearfully into her lap. Kieshe put her arms around him, a little surprised that he trusted her so quickly. After a few minutes, she moved him so that he was still in her lap, but was facing her.

“Tell me, little one, what is your name?” she asked him gently.

“T-Tyrell,” the boy stammered quietly. “Who’re you?”

“I am Kieshe D’lente, little Tyrell.”

Tyrell nodded. Kieshe thought for a second, then said,

“Tyrell, I need you to tell me something. Its okay if you start crying, but I need to know something. Tyrell, who did this to your home?”

Tyrell started shaking, and tears started flowing down his cheeks, but he managed to speak.

“I thing raiders came. I don’t know, Kieshe. They were big, an-an-and scary, and so mean!”

He broke down into sobs, and Kieshe held him tight, rocking slightly, murmuring softly. She was moved almost to tears herself, but she kept them at bay. Now and then her curly auburn hair would blow into her face, and she would brush it aside. She swore to herself then that she would keep Tyrell safe, and would avenge his family, if she could. No child should have to go through this. It took awhile longer before he quieted down, and she told him,

“Tyrell, I think it would be best if you stay with me for now. You will not come to harm that way. I will look after you as best I can. I can think of nowhere else to take you, and I would not want you to lose any more family. I will keep you fed and clothed. What do you think?

Tyrell nodded. “’Kay.” Then he looked up at her. “Can you sing a song, Kieshe? Please?”

Kieshe nodded, a little surprised. She didn’t get her lute, but simply sang a lullaby that she had learned as a child; one that her own mother had sung to her and her siblings when she was Tyrell’s age. The little boy was soon asleep, his breathing deep and even. She put him on her cloak for a while, got her pallet out, laid the sleeping Tyrell down, the curled up next to him. Even though it was spring, nights still got occasionally cold. She only had a couple blankets, but her own body heat kept the boy warm. I’m going to have to go back into town and get a pallet and blankets for him, she realized. He may be small now, and might want the company, but eventually he would want to be by himself at night. I might as well get that now. And I’ll have to get a horse… She fell asleep thinking about horses.

[Cuchulain82]

After the skirmish with the orcs and the cache they discovered on the original orc corpses, Setanta and Snirf had more armament in the cart than they could ever use. Surprisingly, Setanta found the cart fairly comfortable. It was small- surely the gnome hadn’t built it for a person his size- but the ride was very smooth. And with the chest of holding, there was never a shortage of space, although Snirf did seem to be quite the packrat. He would have stripped the orc bodies down to their loincloths if Setanta had let him, but eventually Setanta convinced him that while, yes, missile ammunition was a valuable asset, there was no need to bring the spears (longspears, in fact, not even suitable for throwing!) from every corpse! Furthermore, it was dark, and they needed to get to town more than they needed several dozen sets of “slightly used” leather armor sized for an orc.

“Why did you jump out of the duo-cyclic-all-terrain-war-cart during the battle?” Snirf asked, killing time.

“It’s the way I do things in a fight. I like to keep my enemies close.” Setanta replied.

“Humph” the gnome retorted, “I like to keep my enemies far away from me and on fire!” A glint appeared in Snirf’s eyes as he said the word fire.

The night dragged on, and Snirf and Setanta talked to kill the time.

“Where are you from?” Snirf asked, “And who are your people?”

“Well, I’m originally from the East, from a city on the Western shores of the Moonsea. As for my people, well, I’m sort of an oddity… I don’t really have any.” Setanta wasn’t sure how to bring up his mixed heritage, so he changed the subject.

“How did you get to the surface? You’re far from your people too.”

This sent Snirf into a storm of incomprehensible muttering. “Ohhh, the fire was sooooo big… blah blah blah! They didn’t understand the test! Who knew books were so flammable!…” Setanta wasn’t sure exactly what Snirf was talking about, but Snirf was working himself into a visible fury, with little licks of flame spirting off his fingertips and dots of mind-energy sparking in the air.

Just when Setanta was really starting to get worried about the Gnome torching the entire cart, Windhaven came into view. The town was easy to make out in the distance, a definitive point of light in a dark night.

Setanta was happy at the thought of a bed and a bath. The thought of barmaids and taverns made him happier.

“Let’s make our way to town with haste. There are a few Inns in town and maybe we can get a few hours sleep before sunrise.”

They made it past the night watch and into town, but not without considerable talking to the night guard. While the guard didn’t know if cart-pulling lizards were allowed in town, a substantial sum of gold swayed his decision. Setanta was pretty sure that the guard didn’t have any idea how he would keep them out of town anyway, had they been intent on entering.

“Let’s head towards the center of town” Setanta said to Snirf “There’s an Inn there called the Lady’s Blessing. It always has an open room for the right price, even at this time of night.”

Finding the Inn was no problem- it was the only place in that part of town that still had a bustle about it at that time of night. Setanta had been to Windhaven before, and knew enough to know that if you wanted to sleep you could should stay at the Lady’s Blessing. If you wanted rumors or a fight, go to Hanging Door alehouse.

As they came to the front of the Lady’s Blessing, Snirf piped up,

“I think we should leave the cart out front for the moment. Nhutcluk is very particular about his accommodations and we shall have to speak to the innkeeper about this.”

Setanta wasn’t about to argue with him- What are they going to do with that big lizard anyway?, he thought- so they walked in to the Inn through the main door. Setanta took a look around and what he saw made his hear skip a beat. Across the room, in a corner sitting by himself, was someone Setanta had seen only once, but that had been enough.

“I know that man” Setanta said to Snirf.

“Which one?” the gnome replied, “The thin, tired-looking person in over there? With the dark hair?”

“Yes, him.” Setanta answered. “I have seen him fight. I watched him cut through a swarm of Zhentarium mages, killing them as if he was Kelvemor incarnate. His blade whirled and danced, and he grimaced with every spell they threw at him but none ever seemed to have an effect.”

“You saw this and lived to tell about it?” Snirf was getting interested.

“Yes. I was young then, barely even a man. I was a veteran of the pits, but had never been outside the walls of my city. I was with my master, escorting a group of mage underlings who served him on a training errand. We became lost and turned around in the fall of night, and we stumbled on a campfire in the woods. Zhent mages are a vicious lot, and they decided that they would turn their misfortune of being lost into an opportunistic kill. They marched into the firelight, sizing up the lone inhabitant.

My master and I were following them to help in the robbery when he grabbed me and dragged me to the ground. ‘This is an ill-omen!’ he said, ‘I know this man, and for mages he is death walking. We must flee!’

At that point it was too late for the magelings. One thought to paralyze the man with a Hold spell, and then rob him and kill him slowly. As soon as the first spell was thrown, the battle was both begun and ended. It took him no time to dispatch those weak mages, and I was afraid of that man for weeks after. I asked my master what the name of that warrior was, and how he could shrug off magic so easily. My master said only that he was the 'Stalker of all who manipulated the arcane energy', and that he could 'smell the magic in the very blood of all mages.’

I don’t know if he saw me and my master hiding in the weeds, or if he noticed when we teleported away.”

“Wait, you worked with the Zhents?!” Snirf asked, suddenly putting the missing pieces together.

“No, well not really” Setanta answered back, still watching the thin man, “I was raised as property of my master, a powerful member of the organization. But that is not important.”

“Well, then what IS important?” Snirf snapped back. He was tired and wanted to get to the point.

“Well,” Setanta responded, “I think the Stalker has just noticed us.”

[T'lainya]

They traveled on for another hour, stopping to make camp near a small clear stream. Xivaril pulled off his boots gingerly, he had been feeling the forming blisters since noon. T'lainya tossed a small jar of healing salve to him.

“The perils of new boots are well known by seasoned travelers. This should help ease the pain.”

“My thanks.” Xivaril winced momentarily as he applied the cool ointment.

Reverie came easily for the elves that night. Xivaril was tired from the long journey and Endelia was happy to be back in the wilderness. She loved Evereska, but she also loved traveling the land, grass below her feet and the stars above. T'lainya fell into a state halfway between human sleep and elven reverie. The night passed uneventfully and the trio was soon on the road again. They stopped briefly at a roadside inn called The Hart and Crown. The proprietor was a former ranger who had retired from “the life”. He recognized Endelia and greeted them warmly.

“I've a message for you. Dermondil wants you to detour to Shilmista. He asks that you gather enough violet moss to make a large batch of swamp-fly repellent. Apparently someone brought an infestation back.”

T'lainya and Endelia both groaned. “Swamp-flies are one of the most irritating insects you can encounter. Their bite causes a painful blue-tinged rash and they always attack in swarms.” Endelia grimaced. “We'll have to keep heading south then, straight into Amn.”

“Well as long as we avoid the cities and go straight to the Forest of Shadows, we shouldn't have any cowled wizard trouble.” T'lainya spoke thoughtfully. “Amn is very strict about arcane magic use. Divine spells should be no problem though.”

The innkeeper furrowed his brow. “There's been some trouble on the roads. Large companies of orcs have been spotted traveling south towards Tethyr. There's also been an increase in bandit activity on the roads. It'll probably be best to head southeast, cross the Giant Plain and then straight south into Shilmista.” He scratched his grizzled beard. “Good luck. I'll be happy to resupply you with anything you need. I have a nice stock of flammable oils, you'll be traveling near the Troll Mountains.”

“We'll take a look at what you have then.” T'lainya made a face. “Corellon willing, we'll not run into any of them, but it's best to be prepared.”

[T'lainya]

Restocked and refreshed the trio left The Hart and Crown. They traveled quietly, speaking little, senses alert for trouble. They were at least a days trek from Shilmista. Night was drawing near and the Troll Mountains loomed to the west. T'lainya fingered the hilt of her long sword, the warmth of the hilt reassuring her. Endelia had reminded Xivaril that trolls could only be felled by fire or acid, though poison could injure some varieties. As they walked on, the ambient wilderness noises ceased. The birds had stopped calling and even the crickets ceased their chirps.

“Easy now, prepare yourselves.” T'lainya hissed.

“RRRAAAARRRGGHH! Smash puny ones!” A huge troll loped towards them. The warty gray-green skin glistened with slime. Two more trolls appeared behind the leader, roaring and drooling with happiness at the thought of elf for dinner.

T'lainya and Endelia both chanted, white energy surrounding them. Endelia raised her arm and flung a small stone at the beast. T'lainya finished her casting and watched as a huge pillar of flame engulfed the troll.

Thwack! “Aaaarrrggh!” The troll leader howled, great gobs of saliva flying from his mouth. He frantically clawed at the sizzling skin of his chest. Smoke was rising from the small stone embedded there. It raised it's arms, ready to charge the trio. The flame strike spell hit the beast squarely, engulfing it in a fiery inferno. The great beast fell, the charred corpse twitching once then lying still.



T'lainya drew her blade, pausing just long enough to ensure the leader was truly dead. She raised the sword, crimson and orange faerie fire danced angrily along the blade. She lashed out at the nearest troll. The blade bit deep into the rubbery flesh, severing the arm above the elbow. Sparks spat out from the moonblade, continuing to burn the troll. Green-black blood poured from the wound as the troll shrieked. It swiped at her furiously with the remaining arm. The jagged black talons skittered harmlessly of her shield as she jumped back, then lunged forward under the trolls arm. The troll, already unbalanced from the loss of the arm, crashed forward. T'lainya spun around and drove the blade deep into the trolls back. The moonblade seemed to hum with delight as tiny flames leaped down the blades edge. The edges of the wound blistered and blackened as the troll gibbered and writhed. With a mighty effort the lumbering beast pushed itself off the ground with it's good arm. The momentum propelled both troll and half elf backwards. T'lainya managed to keep hold of the sword's hilt. The blade pulled free with an angry hiss. The injured troll clumsily regained it's feet and attacked. The priestess had recovered her balance first and thrust the sword into the trolls abdomen. The arcane fires from the moonblade sparked and ignited, charring the beast from within. It bit down hard on her shield arm in it's death throes, but the great yellow fangs failed to pierce the enchanted chain mail.

“Fire take thee!” Xivaril flung a flask of oil at the third troll. It smashed against the beasts shoulder, enveloping the troll in a cloud of flame. His eyes widened for a moment and he nearly gagged at the oily smoke rising from the smoldering skin. Endelia quickly cast a grease spell to slow the beasts progress. “Steady now, flank it.” The troll slipped and slid across the oily ground. The grease kept the fire burning on the trolls legs and feet. Xivaril gulped and began the spell to summon a flame blade. Endelia tossed another flask of oil at the mottled green monster. It roared and swatted at the vial, knocking it out of the air and onto the ground. The fiery liquid ignited the grease with a flash. The troll growled and charged, managing to free itself from the greasy area. It headed straight for Xivaril. The young cleric stood his ground, pale and determined. He swung the fiery blade at the maddened troll. He barely connected with the massive thorax when the beast raked his arm, ripping through skin and muscle. Xivaril screamed and fell back, staring in shock at the blood welling from the gaping wound. Endelia snarled at the sight and sent a flaming arrow towards the troll. Solonir Thelandira, the archer god of the elves must have guided the missile for it struck the troll square in the eye. The troll shrieked and clawed at the painful wound. Xivaril managed to cast a magic stone spell, pelting the monster with stinging bullets. He sank to his knees, holding his profusely bleeding arm. Endelia said a prayer and cast Aganazzar's scorcher. A huge jet of flame caught the troll, driving it back before it fell to the ground dead.

T'lainya saw the last troll fall beneath Endelia's spells and nodded. She wiped her blade clean and hurried to Xivaril. His face was deathly pale and he was shaking. She murmured the words to a healing spell as she examined the wound. The trolls claws had opened a jagged gash from shoulder to wrist. The bone appeared to be unharmed, but he had lost a lot of blood. Endelia moved beside the injured elf and added her healing spells to T'lainyas. Warm gold light emanated from the two women, flowing from their hands to Xivaril's arm like a cloud of amber bees. The light settled on Xivaril's arm, coating his skin, lingering and softly sinking into the wounded limb. He shivered a bit as the spells began to heal him, the muscle and skin weaving back together, closing the wound. He could feel the warmth spreading through him, soothing and energizing. Color returned to his face and he smiled.

“We won.” he said happily, feeling lucky that his companions were well versed in combat.

“Aye, that we did. The Protector smiles on us.” T'lainya helped him to his feet. “We should put some distance between ourselves and this place. Where there's one band of trolls, there's usually more.”

[Demortis]

Broken Blade stirs awake, and recalls what had happened the night before. He lays in the bed, and lean over and inspects the floor, both wenchs lay motionless.

"Stupid wenchs tryin to steal from me." he says.

Both wenchs begin to moan as they wake up.

"What happened to us?" one says.
"I think we lost when we tried to steal from the monk... ah i hurt all over, it feels like he......" the second gasps as she realizes what the monk has done.
"Sis, lets hurry and get out of here." she whispers to the first.
"Whats wrong?!"
"I'll explain later, after we find a healer for my backside!"

Broken Blade fakes sleeping, letting them get away with out any loot. When they leave, he stands up, streaches, and dresses himself. He walks out into the bar and takes a seat.

"So, those were the natorious 'Sun Set' twins? And they were working in my tavern. oh well, they didnt steal from the house so I have no problem. So what'll it be Mister Blade?" the bar keep says.
"A good meal and a drink." Broken Blade replies.
"Anything perticular?"
"No."
"Alright then."

Broken Blade recives hes food, pays for it then begins to enjoy it, when a drunken man bumps into him.

"Hey budde, you gotta pay aattenshion to wheere your walkin! I'm an emportant personn." he says.
Broken Blade returns to eatting.
"Hey man, youu gonna talk or am I gonna have to whip the wallssss with you?!" the man asks while swaying.
Broken Blade keeps eatting. The man raises his hand and strikes Broken Blade in the back. The man staggers back swearing up a storm because he broke his hand.
"Bar keep, why are there flies in here?" He asks.
"Um, sir. that wasnt a fly."
Broken Blade raises an eyebrow and turns around.
"Oh, you hit me?"
The man keeps swearing up a storm, while his three friends step up.
"Hey you broke our friends hand! You gonna pay to get his hand restored?!" one asks.
"hehe no."
"What?! Get him guys, we can take him!!"

Broken blade stands up and starts deflecting hits, then grabs one man by the shirt and throws him into a table. He picks the second up and slams him into the bar, and kicks the third one in the chest with just enough force to send him out the door. He sets his leg down slowly and steadies his breathing, then returns to eating.

[dragon wench]

Unblinking eyes watched the loping black wolf from foilage and shadows. They glittered... knowingly... as if gauging the time to strike

Unaware of the presence nearby, the wolf loped onward.


Her hunger sated Tashara found herself once more partly within her human consciousness. Trilling birds were no longer more appealing than the greasy snacks served in certain questionable drinking establishments. Though that vague thought made her pause and swiftly shudder.

It had been a long time, but she still recalled some of her meals in Athkatla's Copper Coronet.

"Hmmm... fresh thrush or boiled mutton and mushy peas?" she mused thoughtfully...

[Sytze]

Bright, golden and silver rays of sun shone through the dense trees, forming little rainbows as they touched the clear puddles of water on the ground. It had rained last night and the forest breathed a new freshness. Life, beauty and revivalism had nestled in the woods, giving it a new aura. Small leaves and twigs flew around the air, carried by the wind. It almost seemed like a dance, a dance which the wind was leading. High up in the trees birds sang their song while happily hopping from branch to branch. On the ground rabbits, squirrels and other small creatures scurried into the sheltering bushes as the faint, barely hear able sound of crushing twigs and leaves approached.

Under the foliage, a young man was running with all the speed he could muster. Moving as fast and agile as his thief skills still allowed him to, Sytze avoided the dead branches and pools of water lying silently in front of him. He jumped from a fallen tree onto a rock and swiftly moved on. Since last night, he had done nothing but running and running, only taking the occasional drink brake s