Sleep overtakes all of you, even in the presence of goblins, trolls, snakes and other nasty creatures that roam about in this swamp. You are all awakened by Taris about 2 hours before dawn on the 22nd day of November. You study and pack, your thoughts turning to the task at hand. The weapons to fight the dragon are passed out. Nightshade taking the longbow arrow, Tieron the shortbow arrow, Keridwynne, the sling bullet, Carlin the crossbow bolt.
“Talorc,” Carlin calls to Talorc who is sitting leaned against a small cottonwood tree. Talorc looks up, stands up, and walks to Carlin’s side.
“Yes?” he queries.
Carlin hands the bolt and the crossbow to Talorc. “It should be you to fire this.”
“Why? It is you that knows how to fire the crossbow better than I.”
“Flint would have wanted it this way.” is all Carlin says and walks away.
Twenty rafts are packed. The party is placed all on one. Doniel and Taris approach.
Doniel sweeps his hand in gesture toward the raft.
Taris speaks, “You will be given a half an hour lead. We will follow after that time. We will wait for you just outside of the fortress out of their sight. As I said before, if Verminard the dragon shows, I am unsure if many of my forces will stay. They are a good fighting force but the fear of the dragon is deep in them. They may not stay at the sight of him and if he engages us, we will not be able to help you.”
Doniel walks up to Tieron and extends his hand. Tieron clasps it firmly.
Taris’s deep voice booms out, “For Jeron!” The echo that returns whispers it through the trees. “For Jeron, for Jeron, for jeron” and then is gone. You step on the raft and float off in the direction of the Yorkshire Fortress.
Travel is not difficult, the raft swept in the current of the swamp is drawn as if it knows the route. Within twenty minutes, you see your first glimpse of the Fortress. Painted black, Three of four towers are reaching for the sky the other has come tumbling down. The walls of the fortress are black as well, covered in moss from the time that it stood abandoned, no effort has been taken to remove it. If not for the occasional patrol walking by on the parapets there would be no indication that it was inhabited again. The current sweeps around the castle for it is an island in the middle of the swamp. Ten long minutes pass and you have traveled around to the back of the fortress. A few shoves with the poles and the raft beaches itself on the island. The back of this black castle no more that fifty feet from you. Keridwynne starts for the castle and is caught by Nightshades hand.
Nightshade whispers, “I have the best chance of making it to the secret door without being seen. I will signal you when I have found it and then you cross over to me. The five of us clanging around searching for a secret door could make us all dead.”
Keridwynne nods and drops the pea sized stone into Nightshade’s hand. Nightshade steps out of the swamp land and eases herself into the clearing that surrounds the fortress. She soon is nowhere to be seen.
Tieron whispers to the party, “she is pretty good at disappearing but being quiet doesn’t see to be her forte. The swamp noise is covering her mistakes quite well though.”
Your eyes scan the wall of the fortress searching for any sign of Nightshade. A minute or two later, Nightshade steps out of the shadows briefly and into the purple light of dawn. You all move quickly. Rushing but still trying to make no noise. Part-way across the clearing, the ground jumps and the water trembles in the puddles around you. You all look up. Through the trees, about one hundred feet to your left, the great red head of a dragon appears. Verminard is here. Nightshade moves quickly. Pulling her longbow and arrow, she fires. The arrow speeds into the night but never even approaches its target. It explodes in a shower of gold sparks as it impacts on a small cottonwood. Shouts can be heard coming from the fortress. “Verminard is under attack.”
The dragon steps between two trees, his long body sliding between them. Tieron pull his bow and fires. The golden arrow speeding toward its target. The dragon spreads it mouth wide and exhales a stream of fire ninety feet long, lighting up the night like a floodlight. The flames surge toward the party. Somewhere in that cone of fire, the arrow explodes. Its small shower of sparks looking pitifully small. The heat from the conflagration washes over you, but the flames die before they reach you. Seems the range of dragon fire is about 90 feet. Talorc cranks the crossbow up and drops the bolt into its slot. He waits until the dragon moves within his range and eases the trigger. The trigger depresses and the bolt flies into the night. Verminard quite curious as to what you are firing at it wisely steps aside. The bolt flies and impacts on the ground. Its shower of sparks lost in the night. Carlin rushes forward, his bastard sword gleaming. He crosses the distance to the dragon is a short run.
“Verminard,” a female voice shouts down, “I want prisoners, don’t kill them all.”
Verminard looks up at the Elven female in the scantily clad leather armor. Carlin takes his opportunity to swing. The impact struck Verminard in the chest. A scale comes loose and drops to the ground. Verminard looks down at Carlin.
“Oh the pain, oh the agony.” he snorts out, from in between bursts of laughter.
Verminard reaches out one great claw to swipe at Carlin. He misses as Carlin ducks under it. He reaches out a second claw to grasp for him again and before actually grabbing him. His face turns and looks behind him. Standing there is Keridwynne, an empty sling winding down. The bullet itself exploded into a shower of gold sparks off of his scales.
“Now that actually did hurt, bitch.” Verminard yells. He extends his claw forward and grasps Carlin.
A group of black clad warriors race around the tower, Narkess in the lead. She stops to face Tieron.
“Surrender, brother of Jeron, we have one of your party and your brother. I have 20 warriors and a dragon on my side and you have... Well I don’t think the odds are with you.”
Tieron looks up at Narkess, then at Carlin held firmly in the grasp of the still red dragon Verminard. The guards surround the rest of the party.
“It is over, Tieron. Realize this and do the right thing. You can save your brother and your party if you surrender. Convince Jeron to tell me where he hid the sword of Ashler, I will release him and your party.” Narkess states.
Tieron looks at Narkess and then drops his bow to the ground. Talorc has Bladifors pulled but the sword is very quiet at the moment. Nightshade’s face has turned to a mask of stone. Keridwynne stands stoically.
“Hit the ground!” Verminard yells in Elven.
Narkess turns to look at Verminard, wondering what the hell he is yelling about. The wave of flame impacts on her chest and she is flung backward and slams hard against the wall of the fortress some 25 feet away. The rest of the party dropped to the ground as a wash of flame careens over their heads. The heat is intense, but only the smell of burned hair lingers.
Verminard extends his gold head down to the party. “You all OK? Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking to attack you like that. I will take care of the guards out here. Narkess is probably unharmed really. She always carried a protection spell, just in case I ever breathed on her.”
Carefully he puts Carlin down. Stepping over a few burned bodies of guards he pursues the rest of them that survived the blast, romping across the clearing like a cat playing with its soon to be meal.
You all turn toward Narkess to see her stepping into the back entrance of the fortress. The party grabs its weapons and sprints after her. Narkess slams the door in your face. Talorc launches himself at the door and bounces off.
“Locked” he says.
Nightshade looks up and says “Secret door.”
You rush to the door and place the pea shaped key into its hole. The wall slides away and you run into a storage room filled with crates and boxes labeled with “replacement swords for the gnome army” Bursting out of this room, you find yourself in a long corridor that travels north and south. Keridwynne pulls out the map that Doniel gave to her.
“North. Narkess is probably going after Jeron.” Keridwynne states.
Tieron starts sprinting north down the corridor. Following the twists and turns of the various corridors that Keridwynnes maps leads them on. You end up at a set of stairs leading down. Looking down, you notice a drop or two of blood at the top of the stairs. Narkess was most likely hurt in her fall from the blast of Verminard. You bound down the stairs taking them two or three at a time.
“End of the corridor,” Keridwynne shouts. A short run down the corridor and through the door that stands open. You are in small room about 10 by 10 with grey stone walls. A little stagnant smelling water is seeping in from the side walls. Narkess is here holding the Blindfolded Jeron by the throat, a dagger pointed at his neck. She is chanting.
Keridwynne stops to listen for a moment. “She’s casting a hold person spell!”
(Your turn. And if anybody drank one of those random stat raisers tell me and I or you can roll it. If you are rolling it , roll a 1d8 and find the stat that it corresponds to and 1 point to it. Remember to tell me as well so I can change it.)
Narkess is casting. Tieron and Keridwynne start their own incantations. Talorc pulls a sword and dagger.
"Stop the spell, Narkness, and drop the knife, or you die here and now." Nightshade says in a fierce tone of voice.
Nightshade removes her bow and knocks an arrow. Before Narkess can finish, something impacts into her face sending her backward. The cessation of Tieron casting is the only indicator of the force that moved Narkess was done by him.
Tieron shouts "If you kill him, you will not find the sword!"
She shoves Jeron with all her strength. Jeron flails forward and hurtles into Talorc. Talorc is fast enough to drop his blades to his side and avoid skewering Jeron. Keridwynne finishes her casting just a scant second later. Gallons and Gallons of water suddenly douse Narkess, drenching her to the bone. Nightshade lets loose with the first of her arrows and it slams harmlessly into the wall behind Narkess. Narkess recovers quickly, pulling out a short stick of wood, no more than a foot long. Nightshade’s second arrow is true and impacts into Narkess’s chest. She seems to take no notice.
“Expand and Energize,” Narkess states.
The wood in her hand expands in length to about 5 foot and little blue sparks start to dance down the wood.
Talorc, having set Jeron down out of the way, closes. Sword and dagger in hand, he moves in.
Keridwynne starts another incantation. Nightshade reaches out to grab at some more arrows. Talorc swings and misses. His wild swing nearly knocking himself off his own feet. Tieron glance up to look at Jeron who has slumped down beside a wall, then pulls a shortsword.
Keridwynne shouts “Surrender!!!”
Narkess immediately drops to the floor prostrating herself in the gallons and gallons of water. As soon as the sparking staff touches the ground it discharges in a brilliant flash of light. Electricity fills the room as a Lightning bolt explodes from the staff and into the surrounding water. Narkess is killed nearly instantly from the blast. Keridwynne is thrown clear of the blast and lands just outside the door of the room. Nightshade held her ground but the arrow she was knocking is smoking. Talorc was just at the edge of the puddle of water when the lightning bolt went off. He should have been thrown so hard that the impact alone should have killed him. He stands unscathed. Tieron quick as always to think, dived in front of Jeron shielding him from most of the blast. Still neither one of them faired well.
Keridwynne rushes back through the door, quickly scanning the room. She immediately runs to Jeron and Tieron, both of whom are unconscious at this point. Nightshade drops the arrow and moves to Narkess. Talorc, somewhat stunned by this turn of events also moves to Narkess.
Narkess slowly lifts her head, badly burned as it is. Her hair is melted into the side of her face. Her armor has taken on a black hue. The points of her ears turned black from the blast.
“It was a good battle,” she croaks in a very hoarse voice, “Ashler was right to worry.”
Her body starts to tremble slightly and then shake rather violently. A outrush of air from her lungs is the only noise of her passing.
Talorc stand up and using his sword nudges Narkess’s staff out of the water. It shrinks back to it's 1 foot size. Nightshade performs a quick search of the body. A shattered potion bottle, a lump of gold that was once a handful of coins. A scroll burned beyond recognition, her armor which despite being a little scorched looks useable, a set of keys, and a cat-o-nine-tails.
(OK for Information sake, the lightning blast did the following damage to people. This is the amount of damage I have taken off your hit points. Keridwynne 28 points. Talorc 0, Nightshade 14, Tieron 14, Jeron 7 because of Tierons shielding of his brother and the fact the DM is using Jeron for a plot device. Carlin 0 for he was not in the room at the time for there was no room and for the fact the DM forgot about him as usual.)
You look down on the burned body of Narkess and into the pool of water that has collected there. Images form in the water. A half Elven man flashes across the water. More images of him follow on its heels. His hair a golden brown. Black eyes, a small nose, thin and tapering, a broad smile adorn his face. Dressed in leather armor but very embellished. The speed of the images quickens. A picture of him playing music on a lute. Another of him, taking a bow on stage. Teaching a student. His face seems to age with each picture. Wrinkles around the eyes have formed, his hair picking up some grey, he has now passed into the realm of middle age. Then a picture of Jeron being taught by him. A journey into a swamp. The half Elven man carrying a sword shaped bundle under his arm and running. Traveling into a large city. A search through a library. He returns to an inn. An inn with a revolving sign. The sign is spinning so fast that it looks like a top being spun by a child. A trek up to his room. A female innkeeper with a tattoo of a spider in a web, clutched between her breasts. A short walk up to a room. A door with a 120 marked into it. A key turned in the door. Into the room, a key placed on the night table. He closes the door, it catches, but doesn’t quite latch. He picks up his lute and starts to play. The door opens. A look of astonishment on his face. A crossbow bolt into the leg. A tall man in a purple cloak strides in. A struggle ensues. The half Elven man jerks suddenly. A dagger now imbedded in his chest. Another dagger from the purple cloaked man in his hand. A slash her and there. The half elf’s life-force pours out in a red gush. A search of the room by the purple cloak man. Rage and frustration. He throws things around. He leaves. You catch a glimpse of a symbol on his cloak pin. A rose surrounded by ivy leaves on a silver colored cloak pin. This hooded man walks out of the room. A final image appears, that of a book torn from a backpack thrown across the room. Its title, A Beginners Guide to Lute Playing, picked up by a lady with a tattoo of a spider in a web, clutched between her breasts. The next thing you notice is Nightshade trying to get your attention.
Nightshade approaches the first prison door. Looking inside, there is nothing but bones and a few scraps of cloth. Someone apparently forgotten by Narkess. In all of these doors the contents are the same, one dead person. You come to one that looks like all the rest, one lone body reduced to a skeleton. This one causes you to stop as you see a holy symbol clutched in a skeletal hand. That holy symbol bears a great resemblance to the one that Keridwynne wears. You feel drawn to look inside. You flip through the keys and find the one that fits. The iron barred door opens with a creak on its rusty hinges. You walk over to the body and look down at the symbol. Careful to make sure that the body isn’t going to get up, you give the symbol a nudge with your toe. It clatters to the floor. It is extremely worn as if it was being used to scratch at something. The symbols upraised fist nearly worn away. Was he/she trying to escape? Its too dark to tell much in here. Even infravision isnt really helping. There isn’t any temperature variance in here, so all looks dark. You search your pack and pull forth a lantern, a few seconds more and you light it. Now you understand why the symbol was so damaged. The person who occupied this cell, scratched the walls full of writing. (It will take you a few hours to read all this, it is written in common. I will condense it for you here. )
She says her name was Sintra and was a cleric to the lady of the lake. She was captured by Narkess about a year an half ago in May of 521. (Note it is November, 522) She was searching for Doniel for she had had visions that were disturbing her. The only person that she identified in this vision was Doniel, so she came to him for advice. She never made it. The swamp confused her and she floated to this island by accident and was immediately taken captive. Tortured for a month or two for the amusement of Narkess. She never revealed anything about why she was here. Always claiming that she was just lost in the swamp. Narkess came to believe her, but would not release her for she was a cleric to the Lady of the Lake and therefore an enemy of Ashler. They stopped torturing her and soon forgot about here entirely. She starved to death in about November 521 from what you can tell. The rest of this is the ramblings of someone losing her mind from isolation and hunger. She lived by catching rats and creatures that roam the dungeon. She drank their blood and caught the condensation that was trickling off the walls. The most interesting part of this is near the end when she describes her vision that brought her here in the first place. This I will relate to you in full.
I am dying, there is no stopping that now. Narkess has forgotten about me and I can no longer hold out for rescue that I know will be coming in the next year. Sometime next year a half-Elven man will be captured. His partner will escape with the sword of Ashler. Narkess will be infuriated and torture him, but he will not speak of it. His brother or at least it looks like his brother, either in an adventuring company or having formed one for this purpose will come seeking him. They are a strange crew, a human female with silver hair, a sister of mine in faith. A odd half-Elven male that bears a sword named Bladifors. A Elven female marked by the sword. A sword that my mistress created. They come seeking the help of Doniel, knowing he will have knowledge to rescue the half-Elven brother. I do not know the exact details but I know that Narkess will die in a fiery death, burned alive. This is good. But it is the sword Bladifors of which the vision pertains mostly. It comes to me somewhat cryptically but I will try to recreate the vision with words as best I can. The sword is one sword with two beings trapped inside, a male and female. The male is obsessed but not really in love with the female. He was forged into the sword by my mistress. He is a powerful sword spirit, built to slay goblin kings and made mostly for the Halflings, but he had another purpose for which he was forged. So when his first purpose came to pass and he was no longer needed he became dormant. In his dormancy, his mind reawakened and cracked under the stress. His name is Talorian. Talorian couldn’t stand the loneliness of his place. He was passed around from one owner to the next. He fell into the hands of an Elven bard named Altira. Talorian fell in love with Altira and then became obsessed with her. Talorian spoke to her told her that he loved her. She was accepting of this, but how can one truly love a sword. So she paid it no attention. Talorian in his desperation, branded her with a tattoo of a sword, point downward into green flame on her neck. It marked her until the day she died. It was written that she was killed in battle with giant, but the truth revealed to me is that she survived the battle with the giant and Talorian rose up in physical form, grasping Bladifors in hand killed her himself. Her death, as he had planned, sucked her life-force into the sword, thereby giving him a companion for all eternity. Altira, of course, hated him for what he had done, but she was new to the sword and her strength very low. Talorian shunted her mind to the back of the sword, leaving to her own thoughts. Bladifors found its way to the halfing village that had been rescued from the goblins so many years ago. The leaders of village, seeing the great prize they had, placed it into the center of the village and cast enchantment after enchantment on it, making it impossible to remove the sword from its resting place, unless someone uncovered the words that would set it free. The words used to break the spell were a song written by Altira. Her influence on the caster quite apparent. It would be the strange half-Elven man, seeking to rescue his friends brother, that would free them. Talorian having disregarded Altira for so long, did not notice the changes that she was affecting the sword with. She altered the sword in her own ways. She made it so that when voices spoke to them, she could channel that energy into herself and become stronger. She will be able to give visions to its bearer. She could sing from there but dare not speak for fear of the influence of Talorian. She is capable, with enough power of doing protection spells to protect its bearer. Altira’s changes also affected Talorian, his strength now grows with the sound of living speech. He will mark the Elven female in the party with his power and plot her death. For in her death, Altira will be ejected from the sword and without a receptacle to contain her, her spirit will soar into the summerlands. The new companion to Talorian will be subject to his every whim, for she will not be strong enough oppose him. Talorian with the power that he will receive from the death of Altira will control the bearer of Bladifors, bending him to his will. He will join in Ashlers cause and force the world to its knees. The answer lies in the brother that was rescued. He will set them on the track to finding Ashlers sword. I am unsure of what that evil sword can do to help them. This is my interpretation of the events of my vision. I pray that my last visions will help this company to succeed. There are two phrases that have escaped me. I write them here for time and other eyes to decipher, for I am at a loss to understand them.
Temptation will destroy his love.
But I fear, I have nothing to give. I have so much to lose here in this lonely place. Tangled up in your embrace, there is nothing I’d like better than to fall...
Good-bye and good luck on your journey, bearer of the mark of Talorian.
Talorc speeds out the door and down the corridor from whence he came. His mind is a blur of things.
“Why didn’t that bolt harm me? There was no rune that I was standing on that could have protected me. Why is this sword even though once identified displaying powers that I didn’t detect. Why does it seem that Bladifors is gaining in strength? What does Altira want with me and what am I supposed to do about it. How does the tattoo on Nightshades neck fit into all of this?”
You race up the stairs two at a time. Racing to battle or maybe running away from yourself, who knows. But the battle lust is in your veins and you can hear the blood rushing through your ears. You need to go out and join in the battle. The doorway approaches. You burst out in the hazy light of the day. Fires are everywhere, burning corpses of gnomes and Narkess’s guards, great siege machines are also on fire, the handiwork of Verminard the gold dragon.
Verminard slowly skims the trees in a lazy slow circling movement. His wings extended but never actually beating. He catches the updrafts of the fires that he has created. His head extends down and fire belches from within. More screams of terror fill the day as it is breaking. Gnomes race into the clearing escaping the fate of some of their burned companions. Many are trying to escape in the rafts that they came in. The army is dispersing and quickly. From across the battlefield, one human warrior clad in plate mail, black cloak flowing over the carnage behind him. He looks up and from under the face plate of his armor, you see his eyes come to rest on you. He looks around him, three warriors clad similarily to him stand. His sword and sword hand extend outward and point directly at you. Though you cant hear him say anything, his eyes say it all. “Kill him!”
The three black warriors break in three directions and move to surround you. The first faints in and backs off. The second strikes at you from behind but misses as you anticipated the move. The third catches off guard and slashes a bit at your leg. A small cut, nothing more and not even bleeding much. Your swing is much more telling. The third guard is hurt, his left arm hanging loosely at his side, a line of blood streaming down it. The fight is quick and furious. A feint here and a score there. The third guard falls back quickly, outmatched. The second guard, now unconscious is laying there. The first guard goes down in a flurry of swings. Their damage to you was great as well, but you are still standing and they are not. The leader now approaches you. His hydra symbol clearly emblazoned on his upper right shoulder plate. His eyes look out at you. Those eyes you have seen before. The stare at you from out of your past and the answer strikes you. Montossey.
Montossey steps around the bodies of his fallen companions.
“Talorc,” he starts, “you have done well for yourself. But you continue to be a thorn in Ashlers side. Join us and I will tell you the secrets of Bladifors and how to control him and the entity that resides in there with him. I have the secrets, Talorc, and I will share them with you. Ashler could use your power and your sword. I await your answer.”
(You have sustained 11 points of damage at this point.)
Montessoy brings his bastard sword around to block your attack. He succeeds. Bladifors slides down his sword with a metal on metal shriek. Montessoy spins and forces his way under your guard. His blade biting deep into your left arm.
“Your speech was most compelling, Talorc, but you are no match for me.”
You are gathering a crowd of gnomes around you. Verminard is watching as well. For he has skimmed the crowd a few times but must not be firing his breath weapon for fear of hitting you.
“Once I eliminate you, your friends will fall like wheat beneath a scythe.”
His strokes are quick and mean. He has somehow become an accomplished fighter or maybe always was but never showed it. He has cut you several times and you have fallen once. Your strokes have brushed him once or twice but his wounds minor. Montessoy moves around for the final stroke that will most likely end your life. It comes, but never hits. A distinct clang on metal stops the stroke. Carlin is standing in front of you, his sword deflecting the blow.
“If you kill him you will have to come through me!” Carlin shouts.
“This will not be a problem, for you are less than nothing.” Montessoy states.
The gnomes that have gathered around, start to move. First one changes into a lizardman and then another. Soon all the gnomes that stood around are now replaced by shapechangers. You struggle back to your feet eager to renew your combat and save Carlin for he is not fairing well. A lizardman steps forth and moves between Carlin and Montessoy. His staff deflects the blow aimed for Carlins head.
“I am Arcton, leader of the shapeshifters. To get to Talorc and Carlin you will have to come through me and the rest of my people.”
From the back of the crowd which now parts to allow access, Taris calls.
“I am Doniel, Montessoy. You and I have an old score to settle so once you are done with Talorc, Carlin, Arcton and the entire race of shapeshifters. Then you have to face me and my people.”
Montessoy steps back a few feet. He has been driven back to the edge of the water. He looks back at the water and then to the crowd. He lowers his sword.
From the back of the crowd, a loud and booming voice is heard. Verminard’s head crests the crowd.
“Now you may be able to fight Talorc, Carlin and the rest but you will never survive an encounter with me. Surrender!”
Montessoy sheaths his sword. Talorc moves forward slowly. His injuries severe but livable.
“So it would seem that the lesson to be learned here is that friends make all the difference in the world.” Talorc’s grin widening to show all his teeth at once.
“Yes, I would have to agree Talorc that the advantage is yours. But there will come another time.” Montessoy turns and dives deep into the river. Some of the lizardmen follow in almost immediately. They resurface some time later and shake their heads confused. Doniel moves over to your side and lays his hands upon your wounds. They begin to seal up and then disappear altogether. At a loss for words for what just happened, you return to the dungeons of Narkess to see about your friends.
Jeron’s voice is little more than a whisper.
“Tieron, Its been a long time and much has happened. Corliss, my teacher, and I came here on such a noble quest but the noble quest turned sour for me. I wish that we could turn back the clock to more carefree days. But I guess that is not to be. Corliss stole the sword and was going to travel to London to search the great library there to find a way to destroy it. With me captured, he would have changed his plans so that I couldn’t betray him to Narkess. If I were him I would have traveled to Eburacum. You must find the sword and him, Tieron. The sword needs to be destroyed. Help him if you can.”
Jeron stops for a moment as if searching for the words or the strength to continue.
“Narkess had other plans as well. King Barant de Apres just created a table similar to the Round table at Camelot. But not to be outdone, King Barant’s table seats a hundred knights. One of them is a traitor to the King. I don’t know what plans they had but I do know, Narkess called him my love. He will looking for you, once he finds that Narkess is dead. Just a warning, brother. I know that you will want me to travel with you, but I fear that I can not. So I ask that you leave me here with Doniel. If he is as powerful as Narkess feared, he maybe able to help me with my blindness. But that is the future. For now Tieron, tell me of the events that led you to be here, searching for me and with this exotic group of people. No don’t tell me. Sing to me, Tieron.”
(note: Eburacum is 2 days southwest by horse travel. King Barant de Apres is the ruler. Dead Duke Geoffrey of Catterick was one of King Barants people as well as Lady Ethfrida. Eburacum is the second largest city in Britain at this time. Its population approaching 25 thousand people.)
Tieron takes his brother from the room and heads for the open air. Talorc and Nightshade start a systematic search of the fortress for anything that might be of interest to them. Keridwynne soon follows outside and heads for Doniel.
The afternoon passes. Talorc and Nightshade emerge from the fortress.
“I found something a little odd but nothing of any use. Narkess had some journals, but they were all burned. Why burn them unless you thought that you were going to die? Better safe than sorry? I don’t know. “ Talorc states.
Nightshade crosses over to Verminard. Verminard’s gold head towering a good ten feet above her. They converse for awhile and she reports back.
“Verminard doesn’t know much about this traitor on King Barant’s Table either. He never saw him nor did he ever catch his name. He said that he didn’t really pay that much attention to Narkess’s coming and goings.” Nightshade says.
The evening starts to approach. The last of the Gnomes are now gone and everybody turns to the rafts to leave this fortress. Only Verminard stays behind. The rafts push out into the black water. The current sweeps the rafts and odd canoe or two around the island and then back into the current. The river is running against you now, so the poles come in very handy to headway back to Doniels island. Arcton and his shapeshifting people come with you. What took about 30 minutes to travel downstream now takes about two hours as your polers push you against the current. You arrive and pull the boats up on the land. From the direction of the fortress you see an explosion of fire. Flame erupts two hundred feet into the night sky. In the steady flashes of light, you see a dragon’s form silhouetted by his own flames, skimming through the night sky.
Arcton looks for a long moment at the flames that are coming from the fortress and says, “Verminard is doing what should have been done years ago, destroying the fortress. Ashler’s presence in the moors will be gone forever. We will make sure of that.”
Though tired from battle, the joy of victory can not be overcome. A party soon erupts about you. Doniels and Arcton’s people dancing in the moonlight to some very wild and primitive songs. The gyration of bodies goes on long into the night. Some of the shapeshifter act out the parts of battle changing forms to become one character of the other. It is strange to see so many Narkesses, Tierons, Talorcs, Nightshades and Keridwynnes dancing wildly about. Talorc as usual seems troubled and turns in early. Keridwynne seems to be in prayer with Doniel for most of the night. If asked later, Keridwynne only states, “That he has atoned for his sins.” Nightshade dances for a bit and then realizing the full extent of her injuries retires to bed. Tieron, Jeron and Gates spend some time together and retire as well. Carlin goes out and gets rip roaring drunk for he knows that his part in this quest is soon to come to an end, for once out of the Yorkshire Moors he must return to Queen Ethfrida to report that Gorath was dealt with.
Morning, November 24, 522.
You didn’t get up all that early for you had a hard day yesterday. Arcton approaches.
“My people wish to extend their thanks to you for the destruction of the fortress and the return of Gorath to his people for his crimes against us. We are a simple people and we can only give you this.”
Arcton hands out several vials of a reddish black liquid.
“We are very good potion makers and these shapechanging potions are very easy for us to make. We thought that since you are trapped forever in just one form that it would be nice for you to change into something else for a time. If you should ever need our help, know that we will be there for you. Well met and good-bye.”
(Note that everybody just received a poly self potion.)
Doniel helps Jeron over to the party. Doniel just bows to you all and then turns and leaves.
Jeron says “Thank you all for rescuing me. I would not have survived much longer, I fear if you hadn’t have come at the time that you did. I can never really thank you enough. Doniel says that he can restore my sight in time, so I will see you all soon. I am curious as to what some of you look like. Tieron, well I know what you look like and for once I am glad I’m blind.”
Jeron laughs and then hugs his brother.
You wave and push out into the waters of the swamp. It takes you most of the day to return to the cypress tree where you found this raft. You replace the raft back into the tree. True to Tierons word, he whistles and his horse comes out of the nearby grasslands leading the other horses.
Talorc just rolls his eyes and says “Oh boy. We have our horses back.”
You mount up and turn for Catterick to release the Gnome that you imprisoned there.
Carlin pulls his horse up in front of the party.
“It would be simpler if I were to travel back to Catterick and release that Gnome thingy. I am heading that way anyway and you could save some time by turning south now.”
No one says much but most seem to agree. Nightshade turns the ring that opens the wall over to Carlin.
He turns his horse to go and then turns around.
“It had some good times and some bad times but they were never boring. I wish Flint was here but... Anyway good travels to you all. Talorc, may you face you death with your eyes wide open.”
Carlin salutes crisply and turns his horse north towards Catterick.
You turns south toward Eburacum. You pass out of the grasslands on the first day and into a light forest by the second. The third day finds you in a forest that rivals all of Sherwood itself. It is a large old growth forest. Winter has just started to set in the first snowfall arrives and stays, covering the ground in its white winter blanket.
The fourth day, November 28th to be exact, finds you overlooking the city of Eburacum. It is nestled in a valley that runs east to west. Two smallish castles overlook the city on its north and south valley rims. A small stream passes by just outside the city. The city stretches across this great valley threatening to use up all the land and spill over the sides into the next valley. The wood fires are burning and sending smoke up from the snow covered roof tops. It is a nice sight for your eyes after many days travel and many days spent in a swamp. Keridwynne has attended to her Clerical duties and all of you are feeling fine.
(Doug, Derek and Laura Kauth (Talorc and Nightshade respectively) were here this last weekend and told me what they were doing for the next day or so. So I will write turn 23 just as soon as you tell me what you are going to do. For the record, Nightshade is going to look for the inn in Keridwynne’s vision. Keridwynne and Talorc are researching things at the great library.)
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