Blades Story Thread

[average joe]

Except for the repetitive sound of stone grazing steel and the occasional crackle of the fire, the room was quiet. Saien vigorously drew the sharpening-stone over his dagger, all the while flashing glances at that batty bard, who sat engrossed in the Blade’s documents. Why wouldn’t Tamerlane just come clean about where he had been earlier? Those assassins from the day before had obviously been after him, yet he refused to acknowledge what Saien knew for a fact, and he had disregarded Connavar’s questions as if they were of no importance.

“If you don’t mind,” Tamerlane remarked, looking up from those papers, “could you quit that. It’s quite distracting.” Brows furrowing, Saien ceased sharpening his dagger. For a moment longer he looked at Tamerlane--who was once again lost in the documents--then threw himself back onto the bed, sighing in frustration as he stared up at nothing. Though the rogue certainly hadn’t eased the tension, it wasn’t Tamerlane that Saien was irritated with. The walls of the room seemed to be closing in on him by the hour, and apprehension had settled deep within Saien’s soul. Tonight would be different. Different from anything he had faced before.

Saien had never killed another human, at least not that he knew of. He hated it. Death…it was so pointless. He had cracked a number of heads and broken a few arms in his day, but he had never in cold-blood killed anyone. His quarterstaff kept him safe…that was all it was for. His crossbow might have taken down a few orcs, but they weren’t worth mention. Saien wanted to heal, not destroy. But tonight….The Ash Hand couldn’t be pushed from Arberdan with a few broken arms or split knees. Perhaps they deserved whatever they got, but Saien couldn’t bring himself to look at death with such ease, even if it was justified to everyone else.

A knock at the door preceded the entrance of Gertrude and Claire. Claire…Saien couldn’t help but feel warmth towards a woman that shared the name of his mother. Plus, he noted that she looked good in leather. Matti, a smile on his face, seemed aware of Claire’s attire as well. No matter how good she looked, Saien hoped she would do nothing to disgrace the name she bore.

Gertrude, the contentious halfling that had brought them to the Cloaked One headquarters, took in the men, each in turn. “Aye, you boys look much prettier than when I last saw you. I see two of you had a nice shave,” she observed, smiling at Matti and Saien. Looking to Bel, who had set up in the bed, she remarked, “And the fairy elf seems to have had a nice nap. Well, I hope the rest of you followed his example, because you’ll need everything you’ve got tonight. Not a bad night for a war, either. The skies would be clear if it weren’t for the thunderheads and driving rain that’s flooding the streets as we speak.” She turned to exit the room, roaring, “Move out! Trant’s waiting to see the five of you.” Saien couldn’t help but love Gertrude’s attitude. He looked to Claire, who shrugged her shoulders and turned to follow the halfling. Saien quickly got to his feet and was right behind her, pushing Matti out of the way.

[wolven86]

The companion's followed Claire through the Cloaked Ones complex finally reaching the chambers of Trant once more, they entered the room shutting the door behind them, and saw Trant with his back turned to them searching through the cupboard.....

He turned to them, as they entered and said "Ah I see you have had a good rest well it will be midnight in a few hours, and that would be the perfect to strike at the Ash Hands while many of them are *ahem* occupied elsewhere, with luck you should be able to overwhelm the few guards they have at their main base and be able to strike out at their leaders here, leaving the rest of them without so to speak a head leaving them as easy prey for us to mop up. Now if you will bear with me a few moments I will show you a map of the complex they now occupy for you to study before your assualt."

Turning around again he began rummaging through the cupboard once more......

"I don't like this," whispered Bel "Its all too easy, there must be more to this than meets the eye, I mean why does he actually need our help his guild is well established and if the Ash Hands are new to Aberdan he should be able to sweep them away with ease."

"Yet however we must go through with this we have sadi we will help him remove the Hand's and so we will but we must be careful of his motives, however good his intentions he is still a thief." Connavar added.

Then Trant turned around once more spelling the end of any further discussion.

"Ah here we are, this is a map of their complex, it isn't that large and was in fact ine of our own complexes many years ago before the guild outgrew them, as you can see from this map of Aberdan there is only one entrance which is through this building here....."

"Tell me how deep is this complex underground?" asked Bel

"Erm about twenty feet why?" Trant replied.

"You say this was your old headquaters yet by my reckoning there are two entrances, for there is a hidden doorway in this alley here, with stairs leading down about 18' that leads to a doorway, which should put us in here." Standing he points at the places on both maps. "So did you just conveniently forget about this second entrance? were you hoping we would assault their front gates and draw off their guards while you sneaked in the back and assassinated their leaders? Yes that was it wasn't it we're the reason that most of them will be occupied admit it!"

Despite frantic motions form his companions Bel bulled on through.

"I tell you this now no one will use me as a decoy, not now, not ever."

Trant looked at Bel oddly, while Matti said "Bel calm down I'm sure that Trant has a good reason for not telling us about the other entrance, let it lie!" He layed a hand on Bels arm and the elf sat down once more.

Trant spoke again "I was not aware of the other entrance for this complex was abandoned before I joined the guild its prescence so close to the main conferance are, means that it was probably an escape route for thecommand council of the guild at the time, you have probably no doubt realised that being a thief is not a safe profession at any time, and prudent people have escape routes that no one knows about. This however changes everything it should now be possible for you to sneak in and kill their leaders without raisng such a hue and cry. I will now leave you to examine the map in peace learn it well it coulod save your life, but be quick for as i said before it is an opportune time for you to kill them in a few hours"

THe group left Trants office and began to discuss further tactics for their up coming fight,

"I reckon if Trant lives up to his word we should be able to sneak in fairly easily, kill the leaders and get out again without too much fuss." Connovar supplied.

"It would be foolish to suppose that they would not know of its existance, especially after the fiasco that happened with me and Matti those assassins were not Ash Hand, they will more than likely be mounting a guard on the place now, I say we kick in the door rush in and slay anyone who gets in our way." Bel replied

They continued on like this for several minutes, when Claire came running up to them, asking them to come back to Trants rooms quickly, rushing in Trant said to them,

"Quickly you must go now, those damn fools started it early, never mind go quickly and strike now is the time. Claire lead them out."

Rushing after Claire they exited out of the Cloaked Traveler Inn which was surprisingly empty at the time, and into the street, the rain pouring down the roof created a sheet of water along the entrance to the inn cascading down, into the mud of the street, puddles all around the companions looked to the sky for some sign that the rain would let up all that there was instead was a strange reddish orange glow painting the dark sky,

"What the hells that glow" asked Saien

"Thats the fire!" replied Claire "Now you must go and quickly."

Without another word the firends moved off quickly already sodden to the skin, with Bel and Connovar still arguing over the best tactic to use. Moving quickly with the aid of the ruddy glow of the fire the friends were quickly at the alley with the secret door. Though it as more a river now than an alley, but still the "heroes" resolutley waded up most squelching in their boots. Someone had covered up the entrance with wooden planks which were removed quickly, the group then began to study the map once more to be absolutely certain of the route.

[Tamerlane]

'Forget studying the map', thought Tamerlane. He wanted to enter the dark tunnel as soon as possible. The more he waited, the more anxious he became. He left the map to the others, Tamerlane would rely on his sense of direction to sort his way through the tunnels. The waiting started to become unbearable, 'Well are we popping in' called Tamerlane. A series of frowns followed his remarks. He obviously wasn't taking this seriously, at least in the eyes of his companions.

He wanted to get out of the rain, even though he knew that it was certain that he would get more wet within the tunnels. No doubt, they would be flooded. Oh how he hoped it truly wasn't. He was ever so thankful of the new clothes that he had been given, but sighed knowing that these would get just as messy or possibly worse then those he had previously worn. To make matters worse, he hadn't even envisioned the battles which were to come. 'Yes, these clothes will get worse as the night draws on' He concluded to himself.

He stared deep within the tunnel and felt reassured that he had his blade by his side. Could someone or something actually live in there, thought Tamerlane to himself. He wasn't sure, he took a few steps inside and was promptly called back by Saien. No doubt they had no intentions of losing the bard again. He sat against the wall and stared at the sky, watching the lightning dance back and forth. And yet he waited...

[average joe]

Just dropping a word to anyone who's reading this story. The previous two posts, made by Bel and Tamerlane, have been revised, and quite well I must say. Good job you two. So, unless you're the guy who hates us and this story (see story poll....I was the other "hater" ), you might wanna go back and reread those two posts. It's nothing drastic, but just thought you might wanna know.

[Nippy]

The lightning arced across the skies as the rain lashed down on the heads of our hero's. Connavar looked to the heavens and felt the water wash over his worn, tired face. He rubbed his eyes, clearing the water and the tiredness out.

"We will sneak through Bel, I don't want to crash through dozens of thieves who will either kill us or we will kill them. I don't want to spill any more blood than necessary!"

Bel began to open his mouth to come up with a retort but a steely glare made him keep his mouth shut. He turned away and finished ripping the last board off of the wall.

The group walked through, relieved to get out of the rain and to get on with a most important mission.

"The way is clear, there is no one in front of us..." Whispered Bel.

"Good, Bel drop to the rear, Saien come inbetween us, Tamerlane, you go ahead and check for any danger that comes between us and our goal. Rail, come alongside with me..."

The group moved futher into the dark recesses, stopping every now and then for a report from Tamerlane. Tamerlane came back to join the group and spoke softly to them.

"There is a trap ahead, I can't work out how to disarm it, it's not mechanical, of that I am sure, I believe it is magical, a runestone will be needed to pass it. However, there is another tunnel leading in the same direction as it. I can't guarantee that it goes the same way, but we might be able to find a way to come back around..."

"What say you all? Do you want to go this way? Mayhap we will find a route to our quarry further along..."

OOC: Okay kiddies, I've got an idea, if we go with Tamerlane's route, we can possibly meet up with Saigo with a ladder leading to the surface, seem plausible to you?

[Saigo]

Nolan and the Grizz

This one's kinda' rough...

I don’t know if I can make it ‘til dawn, Nolan thought. It had only been a few days since he fled the ruins of the Academy, but it felt like months. He was so tired, he could no longer trust his senses. Noises frightened him; shadows attacked. The stream he followed had become a companion, speaking to him in a babbling gurgle.

His companion had led him to the edge of the wood. Ahead, its silvery ribbon wove its way through low hills, down into what might be a river valley. A morning fog blurred his view of the valley, and, beyond, the horizon was smudged with the first gray light of the day. Seeing this through the last of the trees, Nolan’s spirit awoke.

He pushed ahead, through the low bushes and young trees, toward the grassy hills, making more noise than was his wont. A bush moved. A shadow scraped, and something hit Nolan in the back of the head. The undergrowth erupted with tiny little men, all swinging clubs or throwing rocks. A blow to the knee brought Nolan down. Four of the diminutive warriors pinned his legs and arms, and he struggled to throw them off.

In the fog and darkness, Nolan could not see them clearly, but they appeared to be some sort of primitive halfling. “Who are you,” he asked, surprised be the fear in his voice. “What do you want?” One of their number stepped forward and growled, “we no want you here.” His shadowy shape was stooped and twisted. Fur and feathers obscured his outline. He leaned on a crooked staff. An elder? A shaman? Are these the fabled Grizzlefeet? “You go back or you die.”

“But…” Nolan began. His protest was cut off by a howl from another world, and two massive black beasts crashed into the little people. Red eyes glowed. Rotten teeth and poisoned claws ripped the tribesmen’s flesh. The weight on his limbs lifted, and Nolan scrambled free. He saw, through the swirling fog, halfling warriors leap atop the demons and stab with spears and knives. The hellish beasts threw the Grizzlefeet aside, broken and bleeding.

Three of the warriors were shielding their shaman when one of the demons charged. The shaman was chanting, eyes closed, while his defenders were torn apart by the beast. Nolan bent his powerful bow and drilled an arrow into the demon’s heart. A step away from the old priest, the demon bellowed and turned towards Nolan. The arrow, lodged in the demon’s chest, exploded into flame and fell away.

Nolan drew back another arrow, aiming for one blazing red eye. Behind the demon, He could see that the shaman’s staff and his eyes were glowing with a white light. With a final shout, the holy man was struck with a burst of pure sunlight, a column that stretched from halfling to heaven. Divine flame engulfed the demon, incinerating him in an instant.

The other demon, farther away and still harassed by five or six Grizzlefeet, howled in pain. Its black skin blistered and smoked. With the tiny warriors leaping around the injured beast, Nolan could not get a clean shot. He dropped his bow, drew his blades and joined the battle.

Nolan slashed and stabbed with both swords, long and short, but the demon’s wounds healed as soon as they were made. The scout’s speed kept him from the demon’s reach. As fast as Nolan was, the halflings were faster. They leapt and spun, stabbed and cut, but they did no permanent damage of their own. To his right, one of the warriors fell, a gash in his leg, and the demon sprung forward to finish him off. Nolan cut hard with his long sword, smashing into the demon’s teeth and blocking the fatal blow. He stood then over the little man, defending against the demon’s vicious attacks.

The demon was furious. It doubled its efforts, snarling and snapping. Nolan could not avoid the blows much longer. His long sword was snapped out of his hand, and a claw raked into his side. He fell to one knee and saw the demon, fanged mouth opened wide, lunge at his head.

A glowing staff, in the hands of the old shaman, crashed into the demon. There was an explosion of light, and one of the demon’s arms went limp. The beast roared in rage and agony and spun on the priest. Nolan acted on the opening. He threw himself at the demon’s legs, slamming into its knees with all the weight and strength he possessed. The demon swayed, off balance, until a Grizz missile flew over the shaman’s head and crashed into the demon’s chest, toppling him over Nolan and onto the ground. The shaman, nimble despite his years, jumped, holding high the enchanted staff, and chopped a mighty blow at the demon’s head. Another flash of light, a deafening thunder, and the demon’s head was split under the staff.

Nolan stood on wobbly legs and looked over the dead and injured tribesmen. A tear spilled from his eye before he fell.


OOC: Hang tight, guys. I can get to the city in one more installment. Then we'll find a way to get together (maybe that ladder thingy).

[average joe]

"It doesn't seem as if we have much choice," Saien replied to Tamerlane. "Let's just hope this other tunnel takes us where we need to be."

As the party proceeded down the tunnel, Saien tossed back his drenched hood of the cloak he wore. It hadn't served well as covering from the rain, as his shaggy, brown hair dripped with water. To keep both hair and water out of his eyes, Saien pulled a band from his pouch and tied it around his forehead. He also unfastened his cloak and looped it over his shoulders. These wet clothes were a nuisance.

They emerged from the tunnel into a small chamber, a rounded dome. On the opposite side stood a well-built door, closed to the group. To their left was another dark opening.

"That tunnel was not here before!" Matti declared.

Bel concurred, "When we chased after Tamerlane and his captor, we came to this very room. We left the body right there," he said, pointing to the ground. "Now there's not even a sign of a struggle."

Matti pointed to several markings on the ceiling. "You see, Saien? These were the marking I was telling you about. They're the Ash Hands."

"I know," Saien replied. "I know these markings all too well."

Tamerlane was standing by the door, examining several of the symbols on it, some of which were glowing faintly. "These are the rune-markings I was speaking of. They don't seem that old. And there seems to be a faint aura coming from that opening," he said, pointing at the second tunnel. "It seems until recently there was some sort of illusionary wall covering this entrance."

"How do you know such things?" Connavar asked of Tamerlane. Saien couldn't help but stare at the bard in wonder. The arcane arts were feared all across Argyle, and Saien could admit that some of that fear resided in him. He had no experience with such magic, and didn't care if he ever did. He seemed destined to have experiences with a number of things, however.

Tamerlane replied, "I know many things....Most bards do." Saien detected the lie. He had a certain sense when it came to reading a person, and Tamerlane was holding something back. The bard continued, "What we should be asking is who is responsible for these markings and that passageway."

[Nippy]

"No, what we should be asking is how you know so much about magic. You know the history of the land as much as anyone should, a minstrel would know why the land fears those that study the arcane arts, and rightfully so."

Connavar turned to Tamerlane and a slight but overwhelming change took over Connavar's features.

"What about your past Tamerlane? You evade our questions too much, we've seen you been carried off by shrouded assassins and we've even put ourself at risk trying to save you. Now is the time you tell us what exactly is going on..."

Connavar began to move towards Tamerlane but his foot kicked against something on the floor. His glare swivelled to the floor and he was about to kick away what he thought was a stone when he stopped his foot and bent down.

Bound in a rich, dark leather, a beautifully bound book was left on the floor of a sewer. There were various markings embossed in metal on the cover. There was no form of title or author on the spine.

Connavar flicked open the book and his eyes almost bogged out in surprise. He saw the very name attatched to the person he was questioning. It was almost enough for him to keep quiet, almost...

He chucked the book to Saien who opened it and was nearly as surprised as Connavar.

"That's it Tamerlane Khan." Said Connavar. "I've had enough of these half-truths and deceits. Now is the time for the truth."

Connavar stared at Tamerlane, waiting for the Bards answer...

[Rail]

Matti's boots were damp, but they had kept out the majority of the storm water. Now, if only he could keep from stepping into the rivulet of water running from the streets down the center of the passage.

With a quick thought of his god and a moment of concentration, Matti felt the area around him and could sense no evil intentions. But he knew all too well that traps didn't radiate evil. Hearing Connavar question Tamerlane about his past brought a smile and a consenting nod from then wirey paladin, though he kept his attention focused on their surroundings. While Tamerlane seemed a bit wild and impulsive, something quite remarkable indeed if Matti noticed it, the bard never seemed evil or devoius. He was certainly hiding something, but the young warrior doubted it would mean ill toward them when the group learned of the secrets. These passages would certainly contain far greater dangers than the evasive bard.

The thought that Tamerlane might have some knowledge in magic was startling to him, but Matti kept his mouth carefully closed. Where DID the young bard stand on that issue, Matti wondered. He kept his own views to himself, for he found them changing with the years, and with new acquaintances. He had always kept his own affiliation with those in the White Mages secret to only a few. Even from Conn, though Matti was certain it would be no big surprise. They had had discussions on the subject many times before. He was quite careful not to bring it up amongst the other paladins, however, for it was Matti's experience that most paladins weren't understanding of such things, and Matti already didn't fit in with the group. Why cause even more trouble than needs to be there?

Tamerlane laughed a bit and shrugged his shoulders. I've told youno lies, but now is hardly the time to discuss these things." He started walking toward the revealed passage and seemed to be ready to continue on their quest, but Connavar stepped in front of him, not threatening, but patiently blocking his path.

"Tamerlane Khan, we need some answers," Conn said in a cool and steady voice. "We have been open and honest with you and risked our lives to save yours. You owe us at least some answers."

Tamerlane looked past the imposing paladin at the darkened passageway, but before he could protest, Matti interjected with a smile, "Bel and I will be on the lookout. Now's as good a time as any to talk about these things." Drawing his rapier, Matti crouched down and tried to get some of the warmth back into his limbs. He had wanted to cast off his soggy cloak and toss it in his pack, but it did help him keep to the shadows, should the need arise, and he had no desire for the rest of his belongings to get wet either. He settled down to listen half-heartedly to the bard, keeping his eyes focused on the passage before him and his mind watching out for evil.

[wolven86]

Why did they have to start talking now of all times our window of opportunity is not that long, fires will noly burn for a certain ammount of time.

"Conn get the answers quickly if you're going to get them we don't have much time to spare we must move quickly if we are too proceed with our design"

With that Bel went back to searching the passagea knife in one hand and his crossbow pistol in the other, with his long dork green coak looking almost like black due to the soaking rain he looked more like an assasin that a warrior, able to blend into the darkness with ease, then Bel moved and the clinking of his chainmail removed the illusion no one oculd move quiickly and quietly when making that much noise.

[Tamerlane]

Tamerlane sighed to himself, and then spoke. As much as I would like to answer your questions now, I have my own demons to eliminate first. He eyed the book in Saien's hand..

Using the speed, which he honed after years of training along with the element of surprise. He quickly grabbed the journal off Saien much to the amazement of his colleagues. “It would be in everyone’s best interests if I had a read of this first.” The calm manner in which he spoke was a contrast to the cheerful and laidback manner, which his companions had gotten to associate with the bard. The bard wanted some space nay he demanded it.

Connavar was uncertain of what to do, but reluctantly gave the bard a few moments alone. He had made his intentions known at least that was step in the right direction.

He never enjoyed these matters and tried to involve the least amount of people as possible. Flickering through the book, he located the matters, which he deemed as important and began to scribe them quickly into his own journal. After sometime when he became satisfied with the amount of information that he had transcribed, he threw the journal back to Saien. “Make what you want out of it, the contents of this journal may be deemed evil in first appearances, but the matter remains that sadly this is how the real world works”.

Most of the journals content was written in a language that few knew, however a few extracts were fortunate enough to done in the common language. The information that the others were able to gather was fragmented at best. Below is the information that they were able to put together.

*** The journal contained a brief but bloody history of the Khan Empire, full of its treachery, backstabbing, and assassinations and of its attempt to insinuate its unwholesome influence into other realms such as Argyle. From the document, it was able to garner that Tamerlane was but a distant relative related in namesake alone, whose activities in Argyle contravened with the plans of the warlord who had attempted to establish a foothold into Argyle. However only one Khan was allowed instill fear into its future subjects. The other had to be eliminated first. As to how he is tied with the Banshees, the past Khans pledged their support to Saluvius, leader of the Blackguard***

[average joe]

Saien was confused, "So why, if these assassins were trying to eliminate you, did they bring back here? To the Ash Hand base? I can't put it together."

Tamerlane looked at the group for a moment, reluctant to say more than he had to. As the silence stretched on, he sighed, and gave the group a bit more information to work with. "From what I read, it seems as if the three assassins had been here in Arberdan for little more than a week. Upon arrival, they needed to secure a hideout, and this area fit their needs. It was apparently little used by the Ash Hand, so the Khan Assassins moved in and claimed it as their own. However, with their recent demise, the Hand has reclaimed its territory."

"So we could very well be walking into a trap laid out by the Hand," Saien replied.

"Perhaps," Matti continued, "but hopefully the majority of their numbers will be investigating the fire."

"Speaking of fire," Bel interjected, "they don't burn forever. Unless the rest of you want to take on the entire Hand, I say we move. Now!"

[Nippy]

"Aye, let us carry on moving. But mark my words Tamerlane, we will speak further about this. There are many things that need to be resolved."

Connavar looked to the passageway that would lead them futher down the path of shadow.

"Lead the way Tamerlane, find our path and make sure we aren't suprised nastily..."

OOC: Tammy, carry on for a little way if you want, create a few encounters etc...

[Saigo]

Nolan Fairoak in Arberdan

Nolan Fairoak, ranger scout, walked unprotected into a bucolic clearing in the woods. This was one of a few perfect spring days. The cherries were still in bloom; the dogwoods and azaleas were just beginning to flower. Birds sang and whirled in a timeless mating dance amid a snowfall of cherry blossoms. A family of rabbits nibbled and hopped from one tender shoot of grass to another, and the sacred white deer could be seen grazing in the distance. Nolan wore his favorite spring robes and, for once, had left behind his armor and his weapons. The joy he felt was almost overwhelming. He looked up to the blue sky and warming sun, closed his eyes and smiled.

His path led him toward the center of the clearing, near where the rabbits played. Nolan felt a tug on his arm and looked to his wrist. There he saw the sliver chain he had forgotten. The chain looped around his wrist and trailed behind him to an enormous black bear, his companion. Even on all fours, the bear loomed over him as it followed. Close behind was another bear, as big and as black as the first. Nolan narrowed his eyes in annoyance. How could he have forgotten the bears?

He shook the thought away, unwilling to abandon the joyous interlude of his walk. Closer now to the center of the clearing, a bellow blasted behind him. The second bear, unfettered, charged into the startled clutch of rabbits and snapped or clawed them to ribbons. Then, the bear’s body blocked Nolan’s view of the attack. Nolan leaped forward, hoping to intervene, but the thin silver chain and it’s massive black anchor held him in place. He pulled, he strained, but there was nothing he could do, the bear on the chain was immovable.

Nolan could not see the rabbits beyond the murderous bear’s body, but he could hear their screams. He could see the blood and fur spattered on the ground around the black beast. Finally, the chained bear gave him enough slack to get a view around the behemoth in front of him. He was horrified. His eyes were wild; his mouth opened wide with a scream. He jerked so violently against the silver chain that it cut his wrist. Nolan’s blood fell to mingle with the blood that already pooled upon the ground. The shredded corpses he saw were not rabbits after all, but the childlike bodies of halflings.

The bear in the midst of the blood and bones turned his head to Nolan. He looked over his shoulder at the young scout with the face of a demon. His eyes glowed red; his fanged jaws dripped flesh and blood. Another bloody gobbet fell when the demon’s mouth grinned.

Nolan was nearly frozen with terror, but the bellow in his ear caused him to turn. The bear on his wrist lunged at his face, eyes glowing red and demon jaws open wide.

***********

Nolan jerked awake. His cheeks and his bedding were wet with tears. Bedding? He looked around. He lay naked on a cot, of sorts, covered with blankets of homespun wool. He was in a large rectangular tent. A fire burned in the center, the smoke escaping through a vent in the roof. Its low hide wall were supported with light timbers and hung with furs and colorful dyed blankets. Cook pots and clay jars hung from overhead beams. Furs and tanned leather, dried fish and salted meat hung from wooden racks; herbs and spices spilled from pouches and jars. In one corner was an unusual collection of flint bladed weapons, rune and feather-covered staves, and an intricately decorated pipe and bowl. In another corner, Nolan’s belongings were neatly stacked.

The old shaman crouched by the fire, stirring a pot of foul smelling greens. Next to Nolan, sitting on a fur covered divan, was an old Grizzlefoot woman. She smiled at Nolan and, with a cool cloth, wiped the tears from his cheeks and the sweat from his brow. She spoke to the shaman in a language Nolan could not understand.

The old man looked up and saw that Nolan was awake. He padded across the grassy floor to the cot and looked into Nolan’s eyes. “I Stilgi,” he said. Then, while the woman moved to the other side of the tent, the shaman lifted Nolan’s blanket and examined the wound in his side. Only a faint scar remained. “You better now,” Stilgi said.

“I brought them here,” Nolan said. The old shaman looked back at him. “It’s my fault they’re dead,” he continued. “Those things were after me.”

Stilgi nodded. “I know this.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“When Telgis fall, you protect him,” Stilgi explained. “You cry for my people.”

Nolan looked away for a moment, and, when he looked back, asked, “your people?”

“I chief; I shaman. Telgis my son. You save Telgis life.” He looked directly into Nolan’s eyes, and Nolan could see the gratitude behind his stony visage.

Guessing how difficult it was for the old man to give so much to an outsider, Nolan wrapped a blanket around his waist and rose, ducking his head to avoid the tent’s beams. He pointed to the corner. “May I have my clothes?”

Stilgi said something to the old woman, and she fetched Nolan’s garments and pack. She bowed low to him and left the tent. While Nolan dressed, Stilgi went back to the foul smelling kettle simmering on the fire. He scooped the contents into a small pot and sealed it with wax.

Nolan was strapping on his armor when the little old man handed him the jar. “For wound. Put on if hurt. It help much.”

“Thank you,” Nolan replied. Armor secured, the scout belted his weapons in place and reached for his pack. He stopped at a touch from Stilgi.

“You stay here,” the shaman said. Nolan knew it was not a command. It was an invitation, and it was good for life.

Nolan dropped to one knee and looked the old man in the eye. “Thank you, my friend, but I cannot. Those beasts are not done with me. They will be back, and I would not bring your people more trouble.”

Stilgi stood tall and tamped his staff on the ground. “We not afraid.”

Nolan smiled sadly. “I know,” he said. “But more of you might be killed; the next time, it might be women and children. I cannot stay.”

Stilgi nodded. He grasped a talisman of beads and feathers that hung around his neck and pulled it over his head. “You take. Is strong magic, protect you from evil. Also, mean you belong to Grizzlefoot.” Nolan bowed his head, and the shaman laid the talisman around his neck.

“I need to find a human city,” Nolan told the halfling.

Stilgi led him outside the tent, and Nolan saw the Grizzlefoot camp for the first time. There were fewer than twenty smaller tents around the chief’s, most of them no taller than Nolan’s head. Tiny children darted around miniature adults who were cooking, weaving, and mending. Fierce little warriors in skins and furs jumped and thrust at one another in mock combat. The sun was high and warm. The blue sky formed a brilliant dome over the grassy hills of the valley, and, just beyond the tent village, a wide river flowed lazily to the west. Stilgi pointed to the river, motioning downstream. “Big city, one day in canoe.”

The shaman then pointed out six dugouts, stacked in threes at the edge of the camp. “You take mine.”

As the scout and the aged Grizzlefoot walked down to the canoes, the tribe stopped and stared at the human in their midst. On their faces were looks of wonderment. Most of them crowded around and behind the unlikely pair. Nolan felt the hesitant touches of children who couldn’t believe their eyes.

The chief’s canoe, it turned out, might hold three of the diminutive Grizzlefeet, but it was just big enough for one human. Stilgi gestured, and four warriors, all covered in tattoos, lifted the canoe and led the procession to the river’s edge.

Nolan again took a knee facing the old halfling. “Thank you for all you’ve done,” he said and extended his hand.

Stilgi grasped Nolan’s arm and clapped his fist to his chest in a sign of freindship. “You forever have place by my fire,” he promised.

The assembled tribe watched and waved as Nolan rode the river away. Strong people, he thought. The only thing the legends got right.

[Saigo]

The journey down river was long but uneventful. The sun had just risen when Nolan came to the river’s end, where it spilled into a lake that reached the edge of the horizon. He could see the ghosts of mountains on the other side.

At the mouth of the river, on the north bank, was a pine cabin. From the cabin, a wooden deck meandered down the bank to a wooden dock, and, tied to the dock, was a single-masted raft large enough o carry a small caravan. A wagon and a pair of oxen were already aboard. From the deck of the raft, a tall wizened figure watched Nolan’s approach with hooded eyes.

Nolan paddled around the dock and cried, “Hail, sir,” to the ferryman. Nolan could see now that the thin man was old, bordering on ancient. His nut-brown skin was as creased as old leather. The man’s head was bald, but his bare chest sported a shocking white crop of hair that blended into his beard. Bare feet poked out beneath tattered gray breeches.

“Aye, an’ well met,” he responded. “Th’ ferry to Arberdan leaves now. T’others’re just finishin’ breakfast.”

“What fare,” Nolan asked.

“Two coppers.”

“Two?”

“Aye,” the old man nodded.

“Fair enough,” Nolan agreed. He tied off and boarded the ferry.

“T’at canoe…” the old man began. “Your’n?”

“Of course,” Nolan responded.

“Grizz?”

“I believe it is.”

“When we get t’Arberdan, I know a feller might give ya a fair price fer it. If’n yer interested.” The man raised one white eyebrow.

Nolan had brokered deals before, between humans and elves. He knew what to ask next. “What’s your cut?”

“Tenth.”

“Deal.”

***********

The trip across the lake was pleasantly smooth. The other passengers were a blacksmith, Rolff, and his exotic wife, Aubergine. They were leaving the wilderness to seek a better life in the city. Across the lake, Arberdan glistened in the sun.

Late in the day, the rays of the sun chased them into the city. Arberdan was a crossroads, a trading post on a lake at the junction of three rivers. The city itself, the old part at least, was on an island at the mouth of the southernmost tributary. Long bridges connected the fortress and “Old Town” to the banks on either side. From a distance, Arberdan castle shone like gold, its once legendary spires still towering over the town. As the ferry neared the island, it was clear that Arberdan’s best days were behind her.

Over the years, walls had crumbled, roofs had failed, and many of the buildings had been abandoned. A few of the structures, the castle included, were clad in scaffolding, testament to the restoration effort underway throughout Old Town.

The ferry sailed to the city docks, still located on the island. The ferryman caught Nolan’s eye and gestured for him to wait. Once the smith and his belongings were safely ashore, the old man led Nolan down the pier to a fat, red-faced merchant.

“Borman, this be Nolan,” the ferryman said, by way of introduction. “Believe he got sometin’ ya’ might be wantin’.”

Borman’s face split with a grin. “Of course, I’m interested. Of course, of course. What’ve you got for me today, friend? Old Nooky’s never steered me wrong, no pun intended.”

“Well,” Nolan began, “um, Nooky, said you might want my canoe.”

“Of course, of course. Let’s take a look, then, shall we?” Borman grabbed Nolan by the arm and towed him down the pier to the ferry. All the way down the dock, his chatter never failed.

“What kind of canoe, then, eh?”

“Well…”

“Oh, I know, perfect shape, hardly been used and all that, I’m sure. Two man? Four man?”

“Well…”

“Oh, I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. Where’re you from, then, anyway? I can’t quite place the accent.”

“I’d rather…”

“Of course, of course. I understand perfectly. Ah, here we are,” Borland said, when they reached the end of the pier. “Is that…?”

“Yes. Uh, Nooky said you might…”

“Of course, of course. Grizz, is it?”

“I suppose it…”

“Of course, of course it is. Where’d you get it?”

“I traded for it, with a farmer up north,” Nolan lied. He did not think his friends would want their location revealed.

“Of course, of course. I know an old graybeard who collects Grizz artifacts. How much?”

“ I could…,” Nolan began.

“Of course, of course. I see. Shrewd man, drive a hard bargain and all. I’ll give you sixty gold.”

“Sixty?” Nolan was stunned.

Okay, of course. Okay, I’ll tell you what. I can go as high as seventy-five.”

“That’s…,” Nolan tried to at least be part of the negotiations.

“Damn, you’ve got stones!” Borland slammed his fist into his palm. “One hundred, but if it’s not genuine Grizz, I’ll hang those stones from my shingle.” The trader pulled a weighty purse from his robes and handed it to Nolan. The scout shook out ten of the coins for the ferryman and slipped the purse under his cloak.

“You going to count it?” Borland asked.

“No.”

Borland roared with laughter and clapped Nolan on the arm. “Of course, of course,” he repeated, still chuckling. “What else can I do for you, my friend?”

Nolan pointed past the trader, toward a dockside tavern. “Can I get lodging there?”

“You could, but I wouldn’t,” Borland said. “Go down that street to the bazaar. On the far end is an inn called the Blue Monkey. The service isn’t luxurious, but the food’s good and the rooms’re clean.

Nolan met the trader’s eye. “Thank you,” he said, and headed for town.

“Of course, of course,” he heard the trader say.

[Saigo]

As he strode across the docks, Nolan observed the people of Arberdan. He noted the drab colors and morose faces they wore. The bright splashes he saw here and there were the clothes of the outsiders. His own green cloak was borderline. With that, his exotic face, and the weapons he carried, he was going to attract attention. The stealthy scout ducked into the first alley he reached. There, he reversed his cloak, exposing the dark side, a green nearly black, and closed it over his armor. Still, there was nothing he could do to disguise his bow. I may have to get a crossbow while I’m here, something I can hide.

Nolan left the alley and moved slowly down the street, stooping a little, blending as much as possible with the crowd. A thousand paces down, the street opened onto the bazaar. The cacophony of commerce rose around him. He saw people from all over Argyle buying and selling everything imaginable from hundreds of open stalls. Across the long rows of merchants, Nolan spied the sign if the Blue Monkey. He set off for the inn at once.

Night was falling and the merchants were all motion as they tried to pack up while anxious patrons clamored to get the last, best deal of the day. Reaching the inn proved to be an arduous task as there was no direct path to begin with. The end of day commotion made it even worse. The quickest way seemed to be a route around the perimeter. Nolan kept to the shadows as much as he could. A misspent youth had taught him discretion, but what he saw next nearly made him forget his craft. By the Sprits! An orc! His hand was on his sword hilt before he knew it.

No one’s even noticed him. Nolan studied the barbaric humanoid. The orc wore plate and carried a crude axe, and his features were softer than those with which Nolan was familiar. Half-breed, he thought. He had heard of such, but had never seen it, never really believed it. The crowd moved around the monster, only a few with a hasty step or a nervous look.

The scout dropped his hand and moved on, still shaken by the sight of the enemy. He felt a bump and a quick hand inside his cloak. A child had cut his purse. Nolan smiled. He had paid the price for his distraction, but the thief would regret it. The purse Nolan lost was a decoy. His childhood friend, Zeldit, had invented it as part of a game to sharpen the gang’s skills. In the purse were a few steel coins and three rotten eggs. Opening the pouch would shatter the eggshells and spray putrid egg all over the area. With luck, the thief would open the pouch in a crowded pub.

Halfway to his goal, abreast of a wide side street, Nolan heard the song of steel on steel. What he saw down the street was a group of masked rogues in battle with a group of armored warriors: an elf, two humans with swords, and a human with only a staff. A halfling woman in leather urged the warriors to retreat while a crowd of onlookers gathered. More of the rogues were moving in when a song erupted from the rooftops above. Not interested in the outcome, Nolan moved on. Idiots. Loud, high profile idiots.

Nolan finally stopped under the sign of the Blue Monkey. As he stood at the door, a whispering wave passed by him. “It’s Daybringer.” “There he is.” A blond mane, a foot above the heads of the crowd, framed a handsome, square-jawed face. The man wore gold armor and a gleaming greatsword. He carried himself like a god. On his right strode an elf in silver, and on his left, a dwarf in bronze. The trio passed Nolan momentarily, and the whispering went with it. Nolan muttered a curse. This city was a constant assault on his sensibilities.

He opened the door and went inside the tavern, gratified to see dim lights and simple furnishings. This early, thee was only one patron, sitting in a corner, and a plump matron behind the bar. Nolan went to the counter and addressed the woman. “Good eve, madam.”

“And to you, sir.” Her smile fattened her red cheeks and displayed a mouth half full of yellow teeth.

Nolan returned the smile, a pleasant twinkle in his violet eyes. “I’d like a room and a meal, if I may, and I’d pay dearly for a hot bath.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Been a while, has it? I’m serving tonacha tonight. Fish stew. You eat, and I’ll draw a bath. Two coppers for the room, one for the stew, and two for the bath.”

Nolan slapped a coin on the bar, covered by his hand. “I value your kindness. I may be here a few days.” He lifted his hand to reveal a gold coin.

The woman wiped the bar with a greasy cloth, and the coin disappeared. “Have a seat. My name’s Gurdy.”

“Nolan,” the young man returned.

***********

The tonacha had, indeed, been good, and his room was clean. After a hot bath, Nolan was clean, too. He dressed in a clean robe from his pack and pulled out a small lacquered box, a gift from his grandmother’s father. Inside were a small porcelain teapot and cup. Beneath the cup, wrapped in a bundle, were several finger-length rods. He filled the teapot with clean water from the washstand, sat on the floor, cross-legged, and placed the box before him. He spoke the proper words to the sticks. They glowed under the teapot, and, soon, the water was boiling.

Nolan brewed the tea and drank it in the traditional way of his people. The ceremony cleared his mind and, at last, weeks after leaving home, he was able to meditate.

An hour later, he rose and slipped peacefully into bed. Thanks to the tea ritual, his dreams no longer shattered the peace in his spirit.

***********

Nolan rose with the sun, refreshed. The tension of his long journey had slipped away. He dressed, pulling on his armor and weapons and covering all with his cloak. He locked his pack in the room’s chest and stashed his bow under the mattress. Ready for the day, he left his room and went down to the pub.

Gurdy was cleaning the tables in the common room when he entered. “Good day,” she said.

“Good morn’, Gurdy,” Nolan replied.

“Honeyed porridge to break your fast?”

“Thank you, no, only your guidance. Can you tell me where I might find a historian or a seer?”

“A seer? A mage? A sorceror?” Her fear was written on her face.

“Nay, madam,” he assured her. “Certain, there’s a priest in this city who can read portents.”

“Oh, aye, a priest,” she said, relieved.

She directed Nolan to the end of the bazaar. The more permanent merchants’ establishments lined that street, with temples here and there among them. It’s so foreign to me, this fear of the arcane. I cannot afford to forget this reaction.

***********

Out in the bazaar, the traders were opening their stalls. A few rows down, Nolan could see a gang of rough looking city guards intimidating a honey merchant. The frightened man passed a pouch to one of the ruffians, and they moved on, walking in Nolan’s direction.

The ranger wanted to avoid the group’s attention, so he ducked down a nearby alley. What’s this? Two masked rogues had a white-haired man pinned against a grimy wall. Dishonesty starts early in Arberdan. The old man wore rich but threadbare clothes. His fingers twitched in a gesture Nolan had seen before, once. One of the thieves, the older one, held the man by his throat, stifling any call for help. The younger their, a boy with round features, snatched a chain from around the man’s neck. A ring dangled from the chain. The older thief looked around and spied Nolan. He spat a curse.

Better two thieves than four guards, Nolan thought. He threw back his cloak and drew his swords. The two rogues flung the old man to the ground and ran. The man gasped, “my wife’s ring.”

“I’ll get it,” Nolan told him as he ran after the pair.

At the end of the alley, the thieves lifted the sewer grate and dropped below ground.

Spirits take me for a fool, he thought. He took a deep breath and leaped after them, landing ankle deep in sewage. Leather scraped rock behind him, and a lead weight cracked against his skull. Nolan, vision blurred and balance skewed, whirled on the attacker with both blades. He saw, in a swirl, the older thief’s face twisted in agony. Viscera spilled at Nolan’s feet.

The younger thief lunged at the scout over the falling body of his companion, but Nolan’s feet went out from under him, dropping him under the stabbing blade. From an awkward seated position, Nolan drove his short sword up, through the rogue’s groin and into his vitals. This second body fell on top of him. Pain lanced through his head, and stars danced in his eyes. Then, nothing.

When he awoke, Nolan was soaked. The water in the sewer was much deeper and, thankfully, much cleaner. The strong current was dragging at his legs, threatening to sweep him away. He heard thunder and felt a hard rain on his face from the sewer entrance, above. The ceiling of the passage was too high for him to reach; he would not be able to leave the way he came. He could, however, act on his promise. He searched the two thieves and found the ring. The only other thing he found that was of interest was a glowrod. At least he could look for another way out. He sheathed his long sword; the short one was better for close work in narrow passages. Taking the glowrod in his other hand, he set off in the direction he thought was north. With the pain still in his head, he could not be sure.

[Nippy]

The tunnel was dark and the brickwork crumbled with age and wear. The darkness shrouded the group, sometimes Connavar couldn't even see Tamerlane even though he moved just a few feet ahead of them.

The silence was almost deafening and the occasional drips of water permeated the silent darkness. The group winced every time a scuffle was heard as a boot rubbed over the floor or kicked a stone. They wanted to keep quiet as possible.

Tamerlane felt a rush of air just pass his head as a crossbow bolt whistled past his head. The metal head clanged off the stone and a muffled curse broke the silence in front of them.

"Rally! Come my friends, we are beset by enemy! Rally to me!"

Tamerlane's voice rang out of the darkness and called his group of friends to him. They moved forward quickly, Matti drew his rapier, Bel pushed forward just behind Connavar and Saien pulled up his sleeves. Tamerlane retreated backwards, drawing level with the group and Connavar drew his greatsword.

"In the name of Torm you shall fall this day, prepare to meet thy judgement fool!"

Connavar rushed forward and was met with four black-clad rogues, two with crossbows, one bolt still locked into the mechanism. Connavar roared out in the name of his god and was met with a rushed bolt shot into the shoulder. Connavar rolled with the blow and span, coming face to face with a blade wielding assassin.

Connavar's blade span round and crashed down onto a horizontal block from a shortsword. The enemy grunted with the strength of the blow and fell to his knees, Connavar raised his knee and thrust into the enemies nose.

The cartilage collapsed in on itself and blood poured from the wound. The man shrieked in pain and fell back clutching his nose. The other three assassins were duelling with Matti, Tamerlane and Bel. Saien was casting some spells that would help his allies in the battle.

Connavar looked on his shoulder and saw the bolt sticking out of his plate. His right-hand reached up to the bolt and grasped it tightly. He wrenched hard and felt a vicious tug and then a flash of pain as the bolt fell from his hand.

Connavar's eyes flashed white with the pain and he blinked, trying to clear out the pain. He called on one with the innate powers of his god and felt a warm, tingling sensation flood through the wound. With the hole closed and no longer bleeding Connavar returned to the battle. Rail had just pierced the jugular of his opponent and he muttered a silent prayer for the mans soul. Bel cleaved through his opponent and wrenched his blade clear from the chest of the man. Tamerlane fought off his opponent and stabbed him through the chest.

Connavar was joined by the rest of his group and they checked out his shoulder, no major damage was left after the bolt. Connavar saw the man he fought get up, he quickly ran away the group and Connavar tried to run after him, but he stumbled and barely kept his footing. The thief rounded the corner of the tunnel and suddenly fell back as he was punched in the face by an unknown figure. The man walked forward and grabbed the man by the collar, picking him up roughly. He walked towards the group and threw the man down on the floor.

"Is this yours?" Said the shrouded man. "I just thought I would return the filth..."

"No offense sir, but who are you? Allies are not often found in sewers and to be fair, I do not want to put my group in danger..."

OOC: I hope this is ok for you Saigo, I tried to fit in quite nicely and now you just explain to us who you are!

[wolven86]

OOC: i think i'll put a little something in here as i haven't posted for a while!!!

C0cking his crossbow pistol Bel pointed it straight at the newcomer, past Connovar's shoulder.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing down here in the sewers. Burn me if your not an Hand sent here to assassinate us, give me one good reason why i shouldn't kill oyu right here right now. I knew we shouldn't have stayed so long talking to Tamerlane with that damn tome of his they are returning. By all accounts this will be a night of bloodshed! I ask again who the hell are you? answer quickly you hold your very life in your hands."

[Nippy]

Connavar wheeled on an aggressive Bel and pushed the crossbow from his shoulder. He held the weapon down and Bel stared at Connavar's grim face.

"The man has just attacked the Ash Hand Bel! Can you not see that? Before you react irrationnally once again, I suggest you remove that bolt from your bow now." Bel glared at Connavar, he hid no emotion from the Paladin.

"I said, NOW!" Bel stood shocked at Connavar, he had not expected such a reaction from him. Bel relented and unc0cked the bow, letting the bolt drop back into his quarrel.

"My apologies to you sir. Bel here is just trying to look after our interests, and sometimes, well, he just goes a little over the top." Bel glared at Connavar again.

"I still don't know your name sir, will you reveal yourself to us? As you can see, we are not threatening you..."

Connavar smiled at the stranger and his face softened quickly...

[Saigo]

Nolan Fairoak in the Sewers of Arberdan

The water dragged at Nolan’s ankles. Even hugging the sewer wall, there was no way to get clear of the storm-driven torrent. Every hundred feet or so, he was soaked by another cascade from an overhead drain.

Stop, Nolan. Think. He leaned against the slimy wall for a moment, rubbing the lump on the back of his head. The smell of thieves’ blood in his clothes overwhelmed him, and he retched bile into the passing water. He doubled over with the contractions. Never killed a man before. Orcs aren’t the same.

In fact, Nolan hated the brutality of killing. He had never hunted for food; he had never killed any humanoid being in battle, other than an orc. He had never killed anything at all except in defense. But those thieves had taken him by surprise.

His stomach was still clenching, though there was nothing for it to force out. He had not eaten since the tonacha the night before. Good, Nolan. You’re stumbling around in the sewers of a strange city, weak from hunger, dizzy from a blow to the head, and soaked to the skin with blood and water.

Nolan shook his head to clear it. Those thieves didn’t jump down here without a way out. There has to be a passage somewhere. The scout opened his mind and expanded his senses as he had been trained. He worked slowly back, towards the spot where the thieves lay, searching for the thieves’ exit. He listened for sounds other than those of the rushing water, he felt for an odd draft on his wet skin, and he watched for unnatural cracks in the block walls.

Halfway back to the thieves’ entrance, he stopped. A faint whistling under the sound of the water and a chill on his left side told Nolan to look to his right.

A crack in the mortar there was a fraction wider than the others and ran, unbroken, from eye level down to the floor. At chest height, there was a small area faintly cleaner than the rest of the wall. He pushed at that spot, on one end of a stone block, and the block pivoted out. A deep niche was cut into the back face of the stone, forming a handle. Wisely, Nolan examined the simple device, looking for a trap. He found nothing, so he pulled on the handle.

The hidden door swung open with some effort until the rushing current caught it and pushed. Holding up his glowrod, Nolan could see three steps up to a dry corridor. He could see nothing beyond the light of the rod, but dry and lost had to be better than wet and lost.

The strength of the current prevented Nolan from closing the door behind him, but that was the least of his concerns. Those two thieves had associates somewhere down this passage. Be quiet, stick to the shadows, use only what light you must. And pray you don’t cross their paths. Just find a way out, fast.

Nolan stood for a moment, dripping pinkish water. First thing first. Can’t leave a bloody trail everywhere I go. He wrung the water out of his cloak and squeezed what water he could from his other garments. Then, his senses feeling ahead of him, he set off, into the dark.


A short time later, Nolan was beginning to dry. He was moving in a direction he thought was south, hoping to find a way back to the surface, when he heard a sly sound ahead of him. Then, faintly, hissing whispers, even farther ahead.

He extinguished his glowrod and waited in silence.

The sounds of battle erupted suddenly, closer than he expected. He would turn and go back the way he had come, but he knew there was nothing back there. He would hide and wait for an opportunity to pass safely. The battle was just around the next corner, but he could not imagine the scene or its outcome from the sounds he heard.

Sweat dripped from the end of his nose. Scared, tough guy? No, just nervous and tired. I wish they’d…. Just then, most of the combat sounds silenced, a dark figure raced around Nolan’s corner. He was dressed just like the two thieves from this morning. Nolan had nowhere to go, so he stood quickly and drove his fist hard into the thief’s masked face.

Nolan drug the limp body around the corner and dumped it at the feet of the astonished victors. “Is this yours?” he asked. “ I just thought I’d return the filth….”

A big man with a wounded shoulder began to speak, but was interrupted by a wild-eyed elf. Biggest elf I’ve ever seen! The elf spewed a steady stream of nonsense so fast that Nolan never understood the meaning. The big man shouted the elf down and turned to Nolan with an apology. The other three in the group had so far been silent.

Nolan, very confused, was sure that he wanted nothing to do with whatever was going on down here. He rubbed the lump on the back of his head. I need rest. I need food. I need to get out of here. He said to the big man, “I am Nolan Fairoak. I don’t know where I am, exactly, and how I came here is a story too long to tell just now. Do you know the way out?”