4 - Ambush [Story]

His small body crouched over, tail swinging excitedly, Yyx ran low and fast through the tall grass alongside the King's Road. "They are coming!" he hissed in Draconic as he reached the boulders that shielded his brethren from view.

"Finally," his broodmate, Zyx said. "Now hide."

Yyx's heart was pounding. His tribe had been outraged when their patrol had been slain several days before but without any survivors, they had no idea who could have done such a thing. The town of Winterhaven hardly had the will or the manpower to eliminate so many of them. But before the next day had dawned, their leader had received information from his patron as to who had harmed them. A dragonborn paladin, two humans -- one a mage and one a warrior -- and a half-elven ranger, seeking some missing person.

Irontooth had selected four of his finest to deal with them. Three dragonshields -- accomplished and determined blades -- and one of his finest warpriests -- Zyx. Yyx had not nearly the reputation of his older broodmate but he was fast and silent and afer much begging Zyx had persuaded the group to allow him to come as a scout. Now, with battle almost upon them, Yyx clutched his spear and felt his blood frenzy begin to build .

Soon the group appeared, the paladin's armor shining in the early morning sun and his large frame dwarfing the human woman walking beside him. Behind walked a short cloaked human carrying a staff and the ranger, recognizable by her forest garb and slung grey ash longbow.

"Yyx, wait for the others and attack the weakest from behind. Let the dragonshields bear the brunt of the attack." Zyx instructed his younger sibling. Zyx pulled down the horned skull that was the Wymrpiests' battle mask over his head. The kobolds grew silent and still as their prey comes closer and closer. Calling upon his god's favor, an orb of energy came into existence in Zyx's hand.

They prepared. And then, with a loud yell, the dragonshields charged. From his hiding place behind the boulders, Zyx turned and threw. Glowing sickly yellow, the orb slammed into the mage walking behind the armored dragonborn and human in front. There was a scream of agony as acid burned through cloth and flesh but the young mage did not fall and even managed to avoid Yyx's spear. The dragonshields charged the fighters, one of them sinking its shortword through plate and into the flesh of the paladin.

"The mage is hurt! Take him down first." screamed Zyx.

The Wymrpriest conjured another orb but his aim was off. In return there was a whoosh of heat and flame and Zyx did not have time to react. Even behind the cover of the boulder pain seared at him from the heat. Zyx winced as he saw both Yyx and one of the Dragonshields' also engulfed, but both were made of hardy stuff and no mere burst of flame would slay them.

The human woman with her greatsword was holding her own against one dragonshield and steel rang against steel. The other dragonshields had flanked the large Dragonborn; the paladin's warhammer crashed ineffectively on one Dragonborn's shield. Suddenly, the half-even woman was next to him and a longsword sank through scale armor and into flesh. A dragonshield yelped in irritation but still struck true again against the exposed Dragonborn and Zyx could see the paladin's blood on his comrades' blade.

Zyx cursed as another orb missed the mage but at least one dragonshield had heard his advice and administered a wicked slash to the mage, who was clearly injured, and trying to regain his composure, unable to cast spells for the moment.

"Take the half-elf, she's less armored" one dragonshield hissed to another. Using their smaller size and reptilian speed, they wheeled and both struck at the half-elf. Though she had managed to withdraw from her initial charge and shoot a painful arrow into the one she had charged, their blades cut through the ranger's leather, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain.

Their change in targets freed the giant paladin. "Yyx!" Zyx shouted in warning, but too late. Zyx's spiritual sense felt the roar of a divine assistance as the paladin swung the warhammer while calling upon Bahamut. A warm, glowing light limmed the mage and the paladin's warhammer, which found its mark. Zyx's brother fell, blood pouring out of his snout.

Enraged, Zyx's next orb found its mark, but the mage seemed to have found a second wind between his rest and the paladin's assistance as he sent a silvery bolt into the dragonshield fighting the brown-haired human woman. Zyx hissed in glee as the two dragonshields assaulting the blond half-elf drew more blood, her green and brown tunic beginning to turn dark from blood.

Zyx had seen the tide of battle turn in the kobolds' favor before at critical stages such as this -- they still were of even numbers with their foes, at least two of whom were seriously injured. Just at that moment, though, the chestnut haired human woman ceased her immediate attack and called out to her comrades, seemingly invigorating them with her words of encouragement. The half-elf and mage cheered out in return and the paladin's warhammer caved in the skull of a dragonshield. Zyx felt a twinge of fear, but even greater rage. He knew what he had to do.

Emerging from the cover of the boulders, Zyx's heart raced as he raced until he was close to the melee. Zyx pulled back the dragon's head bone mask that served as his helmet and symbol of spiritual authority, prayed to his god and breathed.

An acid cloud belched from his mouth and engulfed both foes and friend. Although one dragonshield screamed in agony, cursing in draconic, as the acid plumes dissipated Zyx growled in triumph. Though the half-elf and paladin still fought, from the closer vantage Zyx could tell they were close to falling. Even better, the mage had finally collapsed, his body crumpled on the ground.

The chestnut haired woman screamed "Wing!" and ceased fighting to attend to his wounds, the paladin by her side. With two of the four attending their fallen comrade, the half-elf wheeled and fired an arrow into one of the two remaining dragonshield, felling him. But as she did the remaining dragonshield was upon her and stabbed her. The half-elf staggered and fell in a ball to the ground.

Zyx was amazed to see the mage up again and cursed the fact that they had a healer among them. He ran to avoid physical combat, hurling an ill-aimed orb at the mage. The tide was turning against them, as only he and a lone dragonshield remained. The human attacked the dragonshield so skillfully that as her greatsword carved a gash through armor and into the flesh of the kobold that the dragonshield turned and exposed himself to a wicked smash from the mage's quarterstaff. The dragonshield still stood, but it breathed heavily and its blood ran like water down its scales.

Zyx sprang out of the way of the paladin as it gave chase after administering another healing touch to the fallen half-elf. "Too slow," hissed Zyx. "Have some of your own medicine," replied the paladin in Draconic, inhaled and then roared. The kobold yelped but the lightning that poured from the dragonborn's mouth was more impressive than effective. Zyx fought through the pain and conjured another orb.

The kobold wymrpriest hurled the acid orb with deadly accuracy. Already staggered from the blades of the dragonshields and the acid cloud of Zyx, Farad fell. But Zyx's joy was shortlived. His last companion had been beat back by the human woman and though the greatsword had not struck a mortal wound, Zyx saw that the woman's whole purpose was not to strike a blow but to give her companion the half-elf an opportunity to get to her feet and knock her bow. The dragonshield fell, arrow shafts where its eyes were moments before.

Zyx, Wympriest of Irontooth, knew that his life was forfeit. But these creatures could be made to suffer before he perished. It was his last cogent thought; pain like he had never felt before lanced through him and he saw his limbs blacken and burn into uselessness

* * * *

Standing atop Farad's body, Wing buried another magic missile into the smoking form of the last remaining kobold. Alastair had taught him that his most advanced offensive enchantment, an acid arrow, was meant to attack groups of enemies as its burning acid would explode and strike many enemies, but in these dire circumstances Wing had thought it necessary to use the spell most likely to kill the creature before it did further harm to his wounded companion. He had never seen the spell against a living creature and he was both impressed and disgusted as the yellowish bolt had hit the fearsomely masked little conjurer and turned it into a smoking, screaming heap.

As he bandaged the unconscious but still breathing paladin, through the pain from his burns and slahes and the rush of his adrenaline Wing felt a great tiredness and a sinking realization at how deadly both his friends and his enemies were becoming.

* * * *

The group rested in a shaded grove several hundred yards off the King's Road, bandaged and weary. With Naruel and Wing's aid, Farad had regained consciousness. Each of them had applied the healing salves and bandages they had. With the pleasant breeze, the sunny blue skies and soft grass almost made one forget that they had been fighting for their lives just an hour before.

Madeleine still felt the rush of battle. She had never felt such fear -- three of them had fallen at one time or another and they had only eked out victory -- but she also felt a powerful sense of vindication. While she herself had not administered even a single killing blow, she had inspired them to continue fighting and had been able to outmanuever her reptilian opponents, giving her comrades an opportunity to move and to strike. Naruel had even paused from her work patching her slashed and battered leather armor to commend her, which had caused her heart to swell with pride.

Am I a bad person even though I feel elation even though my closest friends came seconds within death? The thought passed. Madeleine would work harder so that next time the battle would not be so close. She would lead them to victory. She looked around for Wing. He was sitting nearby, sorting through the goods they had found on the kobolds' bodies.

"Anything useful?" she asked.

Wing paused before answering, holding a small necklace in his hand. "I think so. Farad?" The paladin, his cloak and armor now spattered with blood, strode over.

"Recognize this?" It was a small obsidian dragon figurine. Farad grasped it in his claws, the little necklace looking even tinier in his large talons. He turned it over and gazed at it for a moment before dropping it back in Wing's hands.

"I am sorry, Wing, I do not. I confess I was a poor student of history and symbols. What is this symbol on the bottom?"

Wing looked at Madeleine. Madeleine snorted. "Wing, you and I had the same tutor years ago -- you know that there's no way I know that."

Wing gave a smile. "I just wanted to see what others thought, but I'm fairly sure this is the symbol of Orcus."

Orcus, demon lord of the undead. When Madeleine was little she and her friends had scared themselves with stories of abductions by the cult of the follower of Orcus. While it was not entirely surprising that the little reptilian creatures would worship an evil god, knowing their foes called upon Orcus for their power made a chill run up and down her spine.

"Perhaps we should return to town. We could rest, ask Valthrun about the activities of the cult of Orcus," Wing suggested.

Madeleine assented. "We should go to Lord Padraig, get some men and go wipe out these kobolds first. They are likely to have Douven and even if they don't, we're likely to be killed even if we do find him unless these things are dealt with. They clearly are out for us."

Farad was silent for a moment but then shook his head. "No, this attack convinces me that Douven is in grave danger. Each day we delay increases the chance we will never find him. Wing's discovery makes me even more certain that Douven has stumbled upon information relating to something of great importance. We can rest an hour or so, but must press on."

"Is that wise?" Wing asked. "Douven is perhaps already dead and we are held together by bandages and herbs. I need a good night's rest to be able to cast my most powerful spells and how many more times can you ask for Bahamut's boon in a single day? Should we have a vote?"

"This is not some free city council. You were sent to assist me and I believe we should press on ..." rumbled the Dragonborn.

Naruel, silent thus far, looked up from where she sat repairing her armor. "Wing may be right that we need rest. I also wonder if we may need more numbers if our foes are as resolute as they seem to be..."

"I too nearly died in battle, but my resolve has not waned ..."

Madeleine made an inarticulate angry noise and stepped forward, hand on hilt. "If you are calling my friends cowards you scaly freak ..."

"If you young ones are any louder, I'd not be surprised if you brought them kobolds on the road back from the dead to stop yer racket!" boomed a low gruff voice from outside the grove. Instantly, longbows and crossbows were unslung and warhammer and quarterstaff grabbed.

"Show yourself and declare your intentions, on pain of death!" shouted Madeleine, waving her crossbow in the general direction of the voice.

"Now, missee, don't get excited." A dwarf in battered scale mail, with a dark black long beard braided into three magnificent locks, walked into the grove, hands held high. "You don't want to go doing something that you might regret. Though I'd likely regret it even more."

He guffawed at his own joke. "I am Bailyn, a dwarven orcbreaker, and nephew to Torin Irongut. I was passing through several days ago and Torin mentioned that he and Alistair the wizard had recently sent a group of promising young adventurers north to accompany a paladin. As I had no plans, I came up to find them. Imagine my surprise to find a pile of kobold corpses on the road. Torin said there was a very vocal young human woman with them -- so judging by my ears and eyes -- I am fairly certain I have found what I am looking for. An Eastern born mage, a half-elven archer, a female swordswoman and a dragonborn paladin ..."

Naruel remained with arrow cocked. "How do we know you are not lying. Torin Irongut is well known in his village. We have just been ambushed."

The dwarf, arms still raised, shrugged. "Tis true. Of course, this seems a piss poor trap if that's what it is. I have come to offer my maul and my shield. If you refuse, I understand. But if you seek to bridge your differences, I could be of great use. I am fresh and we can press on to find your missing friend. If you'd like, I'll stand in the front row and if I act suspicious, I give you leave to shoot me in the back ..."

People considered this. Wing finally broke the silence.

"Well, I guess you'll have to aim low."

3 -- Winterhaven [Story]

Sitting at a bench in the corner of the common room of Winterhaven's inn, Farad pulled his cloak tighter around him and savored his mulled wine. He closed his eyes as he let it pour down his throat, partially to savor the warmth and heat, but also to avoid the skittish glances of the other patrons.

"You would think these fools have never seen a Dragonborn before," Madeleine snarled in a tone deliberately loud enough for other patrons, her green eyes flashing, "Can't tell the difference between a Dragonborn and a cobalt..."

"Kobold," Nary said quietly.

"Whatever." Madeleine continued, waving her glass. "You'd think they'd thank us, considering we just risked life and limb and got rid of 10 of them ..."

"Eight."

"Eight, ten, twelve ... alot!" Madeleine punctuated her statement by slamming her cup down, spilling wine onto the table and momentarily stopping the low buzz of voices throughout the room. Madeleine turned around and glared, shifting her cloak so that the hilt of her greatsword emerged near her shoulder. The buzz resumed, inaudible mutterings reaching Wing's ears.

Wing considered saying something to Madeleine, but thought better of it. Besides, he too felt a little frustration. Passing from field to thin woods and finally to small farmsteads, King's Road had finally brought them to the small walled village that was Winterhaven shortly after nightfall. There they had been delayed for what seemed like an eternity as on edge town guards looked down from the weathered stone parapets and debated as to whether the gates should be raised and the group admitted in for the night. Despite their protestations and explanations, the guardsmen were nervous and it had finally taken a mixture of pleading, cajoling and coin to convince them that they were not very giant disguised kobolds.

The guards had grudgingly pointed the way to Wrafton's Inn, the only inn in the village. The proprietor, Salvana, was a friendly middle aged but not unattractive woman and had been happy to offer them room and board, but the locals coming in for a drink had studiously avoided the unusual looking group.

"This is not going well," Wing said quietly to Naruel. "We need to find information about Douven, not get into a brawl with the locals."

The half-elf sighed and nodded. "Bide our time, then mingle." Naruel herself was feeling troubled -- she had attempted to strike up a conversation with a local elvish hunter but despite their seeming similarities in race and background the dark haired woman had seemed disinterested and standoffish.

There was a gust of cold air as the door opened. Wing recognized one of the guards from the gate, but with him were two other guards. Though clad in similar tunics they seemed larger in girth and had a tougher look to them. The room grew quiet once again.

"Lord Ernest Padraig, protector of Winterhaven," one of the guards announced. People rose, men taking off their hats and women curtseying as a tall, broad shouldered but slightly paunchy brown haired man entered. His clothes were ornate, but Wing also noted that they were loose enough to cover armor and that the hilt of his sword was worn and used, as if it had seen use. Salvana's greeting was met with a polite but cool acknowledgement.

Wing was not surprised when Lord Padraig and his retinue walked over to their table.

"Greetings," Lord Padraig said. "Welcome to Winterhaven. May we speak outside, in private?" It was clear from his tone that it was not a request.

* * * *

Standing outside there were more guardsmen.

"We have no ill intent," began Naruel.

"I do not believe you do. However, as you might suspect, it is not often that a Dragonman bearing the crest of Bahamut, a half-elven ranger, a swordswoman and an Easterner bearing a wizard's staff visit us. Who are you and what is your business here?"

Wing considered whether it was more appropriate for Farad, as the person entrusted with the task, or Naruel, as Madeleine and his leader, ought to represent the group. But before either spoke he realized Madeleine had stepped forward and grabbed the man's hand.

"I am Madeleine Attleborough, third child of Sir Humbert Attleborough, second nephew of Evan Wallstone, commander of armored horse at the 1st battle of Dire Fields. I am the veteran of many battles despite my youth and beauty. In fact, I am assistant guard captain to the town of Woodsbridge."

More like assistant to the guard captain, Wing thought to himself, though he stayed silent. Naruel's face was impassive but Wing could see the slight twitch above her right eye that indicated extreme irritation.

"I travel with Naruel, a half-elven ranger and daughter of Alastair the sage of Woodsbridge, whose fragile fairy like form belies her deadly nature. We are accompanying Farad, a valiant paladin of Bahamut who means no harm despite his monstrous visage, on a mission from his order. We also bring with us Wing Lung, Alastair's apprentice and a skilled mage despite his child-like appearance."

Now Wing was extremely irritated.

"Not six hours ago, we slew nearly a score of foul kobolds that will no longer plague you. We hope you can find it in your generous heart to allow us to rest in your town and allow us to aid our friend in fulfilling his divine mission. We seek a historian named ... um ...."

Wing inwardly groaned. "Douven Staul," hissed Farad in a low voice.

"Douven Staul. We are deeply pleased to make your acquaintance," Madeleine concluded with a sweeping flourish of her hand and a deep bow.

Lord Padraig stared thoughtfully at Madeleine for a long moment, then let out a hearty laugh. "Well, Assistant Guard Captain Attleborough, I am glad to meet you and honored to meet the daughter of the 2nd nephew of Evan Wallstone, who I confess I do not know but who was clearly very important at such a historic battle. While you and your friends are unusual I will not deny that if you have indeed slain twenty kobolds that you have done us a great service."

"If what I know of kobolds is true, then I am afraid we are unlikely to have killed them all. They lair in dark places and travel in greater numbers than the EIGHT we slew," Naruel said coolly, icy blue eyes gazing directly at Madeleine, who was studiously avoiding her glance

Lord Padraig sighed. "That is true, I am afraid," he nodded in assent. "These creatures vex us greatly and grow bolder by the day. Come, let us go inside and have a drink and we can talk of happier things and see perhaps how we might assist you in your ... divine mission. Perhaps we can find some mutually agreeable arrangements." Lord Padraig gestured and the guard dispersed save for his two bodyguards.

Together they re-entered Wrafton's Inn.

* * *

The stone stairway leading to the lower level of the ruined keep was shrouded in a darkness that the poorly lit torches in the chamber below barely allayed, but the dark red eyes of the guards could see in darkness better than any human and their large pointed ears could detect the softest of sounds. As a figure swiftly descended, the two hulking humanoid creatures noticed and barred the way, shields raised, weapons ready.

"Shadow seeks shadow!"

"And life fails in the dark!" hissed the figure in return. The guards paused, then stepped back. The figure stepped into the dimly lit chamber.

"What brings you here, filthy spy," spat one of the guards in heavily accented Common.

"Tell Kalarel I bring news -- there are strangers in town that might merit ... attention."

2 - The Road to Winterhaven [Story]

"The real brilliance of Bothwin was not the fact that he called for a change on the orcs' right flank, but that he knew that the Spineripper tribe, which composed the mass of the right flank, were demoralized and would break under an assault even if they outnumbered the enemy. As Wing's countryman, Chao Tzu says 'A commander who knows his soldiers' hearts will win a battle, but a commander who knows his opponents' hearts will win a kingdom.'"

With that reference Madeleine turned from her discussion with Farad to briefly wave at Wing, walking a hanful of steps behind them. Wing gave a smile and a thumbs up.

I bet Nary can hear Maddy from whereever she is, he thought, imagining Naruel's sigh of exasperation at Madeleine's constant habit of talking as loud as if she were haggling at the village market. Wing could not see the half-elf but knew she was somewhere in front of or behind them, walking quietly and observing. After the first two peaceful days the others had concluded that whatever bandits inhabited the road had no appetite to take on armed and armored prey, but Naruel remained committed to her silent scouting. Only after they had broken camp for the evening would she appear, usually carrying a brace of rabbits or other freshly caught game for them to eat.

Madeleine was clearly enjoying herself -- she had immediately accepted the invitation from Torin much to her mother's dismay -- and the normally voluble young woman had been shocked into impressed silence upon first meeting the imposing Farad. Her initial quiet awe of the large Dragonborn had turned into what seemed to be a desire to ingratiate herself with and prove herself to the paladin. She had spent the last several days discussing battlefield tactics and history with Farad, dropping in not too subtle accounts of her own martial feats. Farad in turn seemed quietly amused but also pleasantly flattered by the assertive young woman who wore her chain armor and two handed sword with a confidence and familiarity.

They were all in fairly good spirits. The autumn rains had been light and the walk to Winterhaven had been peaceful. The air was crisp but not yet with the bite of winter, and the leaves on the trees shone in their fall colors. Thought the well maintained cobblestones of their hometown had quickly turned to a dirt road marked by isolated cobblestones peeking out, a clear indication of the relative disuse of the King's Road in the past several decades, the road was level and mostly unbroken.

Looking down at the dirt, Wing noticed that there were footprints leading up and down this portion of the road, too small to be humans and made with small clawed feet. Before Wing could bring attention to this fact, Naruel's voice called out urgently from behind them. "To Arms! Attackers!"

There was a cacophonous shrieking as small reptilian humanoids appeared from the rocks to the left and right of them, moving rapidly towards them. Seeing the shield and spears in their rust-colored claws, Wing's heart started to pound with excitement and fear.

Madeleine had but moments to prepare herself before one of the little reptilians was upon her. Before she could draw a blade the creature viciously lunged at her. She twisted to avoid the wicked looking spear, but too late. The glancing wound made a grating sound as it rang against the chainmail links of her armor. Before it could recover, however, an arrow plunged deep into its chest and it collapsed. A second creature leapt into its place -- its spear swinging wide of Madeleine.

"Bahamut grant me strength!" roared Farad and the Dragonborn was at Maddy's side. Almost twice the size of these reptilian bipeds, Farad's warhammer crashed effortlessly through the little beast's shield arm and it was tossed aside like a broken doll.

Seeing another beast fall, Wing sprinted off the road towards the boulders from where the attack had been launched, his mind racing over the spells Alastair had taught him. Suddenly a creature was charging at him. A silver bolt erupted from his fingers. Wing shouted in dismay as the creature altered its course mid-charge and avoided the magical bolt with inhuman speed. Wing dodged the distracted creature's spear thrust.

"Wing, do not get ahead of Farad and I!" Maddy shouted behind him, calmly drawing her crossbow. The bolt found its target but even as it writhed on the ground more creatures beset Madeleine and Wing. A sling stone from a hidden enemy flew perilously close to Wing.

Madeleine realized that these creatures were far more perilous than her previous battles, and she felt a twinge of fear. But it was still a battle. And she knew how to fight battles. The deadliest enemy is not the one in front of you but the one behind. She scanned the surroundings. "Farad, protect my flank. New attackers on the road!" Madeleine warned.

Farad wheeled and saw more creatures running towards them from the other side of the road, claws gripping dark metal shortswords and substantial shields. One of Naruel's arrows struck one of them, but did not stop its advance. Taking the offensive, Farad charged and swung, but unlike the last creature, this one blocked the blow with its shield. Suddenly one creature was ahead of him and one behind. Farad winced as blades tore into him from in front and behind.

There was a roar and the whole area in front of Wing burst into a sheet of flame roaring like a fan from his outstretched fingers. One creature screamed and fell as it blackened from the magical fire. Madeleine struck down the creature confronting her with one mighty swing of her greatsword and pushed Wing behind her. "I'm better armored. Use me as cover!" she commanded as a strange looking sling stone flew by them. Sheltered from Wing's magical fire by the boulders that had hidden them, the reptilian sling-bearer hissed in frustration at his miss and grabbed another ceramic globe from its bandolier.

Naruel drew upon her ranger training and with one swift motion fired two arrows at the dangerous fighters surrounding Farad. The creature batted one away with a hiss but the other sank deep into its leg. Farad took advantage of its distraction and the creature collapsed as the paladin crushed its skull with one blow of his warhammer. Farad's other attacker hissed in anger and redoubled its attack, but its blade was parried.

"You are doomed" Farad shouted, in the language of dragons that he suspected these little reptilian knew.

"We shall see," rasped the creature in Common in return.

"Have at you!" Madeleine cried and charged the creature amidst the stones; she stumbled and her greatsword dug up only dirt and stone. Wing's magic bolt burned into the creature, but did not fell it. With superhuman agility the creature leapt back and hurled the globe from its sling in a single smooth motion. Wing shouted in alarm as the bullet hit Madeleine square in the chest. As the ceramic globe burst liquid flame covered her chest and ran down her legs. Madeleine stumbled back, stunned and clothes alight.

Dark metal sword scraped harmlessly off of Farad's shield. An arrow struck deep and Farad's warhammer crashed down, ripping and tearing through metal, scale and flesh. "Perish!" roared Farad.

Protect Wing, finish the fight, then drop and roll, thought Madeleine, though pain was lancing all throughout her body from the blows she had received and the heat from the flames. Keeping herself between Wing and the creature, she attacked again, her clothes still smoldering; the nimble creature avoided her blow. As it again slipped by her and turned to use its sling, she wondered whether she could survive another blow.

To Madeleine's relief, the creature slammed into the ground and lay still as another one of Wing's magic missiles found its target. At the same time she felt a surge of cooling relief through her body and her pain lessened as Farad's talon gripped her shoulder in a comforting touch. She glanced behind her and saw the bloodied but standing paladin. On the road behind him lay both of his attackers, pierced and smashed. There were no other attackers.

Madeleine closed her eyes and fell to her knees. She felt the warm covering of a blanket as Wing tried to pat out the flames that licked at her.

The shrieking of the beasts and the sound steel crashing against steel and flesh were replaced by the quiet of the wilderness and the heavy breathing of the four of them. Wing sat next to the resting Madeleine, now no longer alight. Farad sat down and tended to his own wounds while Naruel scanned for more enemies. Pausing by one corpse, she knelt down and looked closely at it. "Kobolds," she concluded, though the others were lost in their own thoughts.

Madeleine sat up, tired and wounded, and hugged the wizard tight. "Wing, I screwed up. I couldn't hit that thing. I was totally ..."

Wing gently put his hand over her mouth, "No need, Maddy. Only got it done because you were distracting it. You shielded me. Otherwise I would have been toast. Burnt toast. Sorry I got in front of you earlier." Though her mouth was obscured by his glove, he could see her eyes brighten with a smile. "Another victorious battle, commander," he added in a tone so low only she could hear.

"Indeed," Farad assented. "If not for your warning I would have exposed my back to the two sword bearing ones that were lying in wait on the other side of the road. Even with the warning, they were fearsome. If I had been surprised, I may not have been so lucky."

Though it made her sides sore, Madeleine laughed as she pushed Wing's hand away. "Enough! I get it. No need to console my wounded pride. I appreciate it, though. Nary, do you have a compliment for my battlefield presence that you want to add."

Naruel paused from her inspection of one of her bodies to look up. She thought for a moment. "No," she finally answered, with a straight face but a gleam in her eye. "You sucked today."

"True," Madeleine said, tossing a stone at one of the corpses burned by Wing's spell, "but something tells me that I'll have more opportunities to prove myself."

"I fear you are right," Naruel said. "Lets hurry. From what I remember being taught, these creatures see well in the darkness and we are close to Winterhaven. I would not camp exposed if we can avoid it."

The sky darkening, the travelers rose and moved on, quieter than before.

1A -- Making Characters

In honor of my misspent youth in dusty basements rolling 20-sided dice amidst the clutter on top of card tables, I picked up the 4th edition Player's Handbook and H1 -- Keep on the Shadowfell.

I haven't played in ages -- since college, really -- I went once to an RPGA event and the people all seemed nice but it was all crowded and people were sick (not like mentally, but physically -- like with the flu or something) and I came down with a bad cold afterwards.

I created 4 characters -- half-elven ranger, human warlord, human mage and dragonborn paladin -- and created a backstory (thats what 1 is based on -- no rolling for intitiative yet!) and decided to use the Missing Mentor hook, adapted.

Even though I haven't played yet, just creating the characters was fun. I found an excel spreadsheet on the internet that is incredibly useful for character creation. I found the point system for talent distribution really nice (when I was little, I always wanted characters with all 17s and 18s but now it doesn't bother me so much -- perhaps a recognition of the reality that most of us are not excessively one thing or another). Also a neat thing was that using Google Image search I pulled up character sketches for my characters that I pasted in to the character sheets. I remember back in the 80s that I would have these images of awesome looking heroes but then that damned little space in which I drew and my execrable lack of talent would result in some travesty of a misshappen little figure with features only Dr. Frankenstein would love.

Reading through H1, it seems interesting enough. I'll see, I guess. I have since thrown out all my dice, but again, thanks to the internet, there are virtual dice rollers. I like the ones that actually show you images of dice when you roll. Its a nice touch.

1 - Prelude [Story]

Even if Wing Lung, apprentice wizard, had not been puzzling over a particulary difficult glyph in Colbert's Tome of Arcane Binding, he probably would not have seen the figure advancing upon him. Clad in forest browns and greens, the figure's footfalls were so silent and smooth that even squirrels and rabbits in the quiet glade did not stir. Wing only saw a blur of a masked figure upon him and then he was suddenly beset, arms encircled under the armpit and secured at the neck in a viselike grip from behind.

Wing's more physically talented friends had given him some training; he shifted his weight, bucked and turned, but his attacker, though seemingly not much larger in girth than the slight mage, seemed stronger and better trained. Wing could not break free and, arms immobilized and unable to see his assailant, Wing could neither utilize the spells that could give him a chance against a more physically talented opponent nor reach the dagger he had on his belt. Within moments he was driven to his knees, arms locked and enemy behind him. Panic tugged at him and he steeled himself for a blade to the back or the onset of a choke.

Instead of a cold blade, however, Wing suddenly felt a cold wind as his trousers were pulled to the ground. Wing gasped as the assailant administered a stinging swat to his exposed rear. Panic turned to confusion and embarassment as the dark haired young man realized he was being spanked.

Wing heard melodic ringing peals of laughter, long familiar to him.

"Nary," the mage pleaded, trying to will his voice not to crack, "Stop it. Its not funny."

Another swat.

"Nary, please!" his voice broke a little and he felt his cheeks flush. The hold was released and the blows ceased, though the laughter did not. Wing hurriedly pulled his trousers up as he turned around to confront his masked opponent. Though the head was covered in black silk there was an opening through which he could see the amused bright blue eyes he knew so well. They stood an arm's length apart for a moment.

"Don't cry, little brother," the figure said, amused, in a soft female lilt. "Come give Nary a hug."

Before Wing could figure out the right words to say, he was wrapped in a fierce hug with his once mysterious foe. His embarassment and anger ebbed away. "Welcome home, Nary," he whispered.

Still embracing Wing, Naruel used one hand to unwrap her silken headwrap, allowing her shoulder length golden hair to spring free and reveal a joyous smile. "Good to be home," she whispered back.

* * * *

"Madeleine Attleborough! Where are you? What have you done?" Dame Attleborough, wife of Sir Attleborough and mother to the Attleborough clan, barreled down the hallway, maids and manservants scattering from her path like so many startled antelope before an enraged gingham-clad elephant.

"Here mama," came a calm voice from the parlor.

Puffing from her exertion, Matron Attleborough strode into the room to come upon her youngest daughter clad in a blouse and skirt demurely knitting. Madeleine gazed up at her mother with a look of innocent curiousity.

"You heard me! What have you done?" she demanded.

"A gryphon of our family crest," Madeleine said, wide-eyed with just a hint of a smile, holding up the piece of cloth she was embroidering. "See, here's the wing ..."

"Don't be smart with me, child," her mother scolded. "Your sister is hysterical up in her room. She says you stabbed Tobias!"

Madeleine heaved a deep sigh, and put down her cloth and needle. "Its but a scratch. Besides, it was in combat. He challenged me."

"Clarice says you insulted his family and goaded him into a challenge."

"I gave no insult, just truth. He was the one insulting me, belittling uncle's accomplishments. I merely pointed out that whereas our family's honors were the result of valor his were widely known to be the result of the unlawful trade of whores.."

"Madeleine!"

"Its true!" Madeleine retorted.

Matron Attleborough heaved a deep sigh and sat down in a divan, placing her hands into her heads. "Madeleine, if we have chosen to indulge your wild ways, that's one thing, but you must pay more care for the welfare of your siblings. Your sister's prospects are rapidly fading."

"I do care, mother," the chestnut haired young woman's attitude changed, hardened; she leaned forward, her green eyes narrowed. "That boy was a gauche brat whose family is seeking to launder their ill gotten gains by marrying up. He's lucky I didn't run him through like the pig he was. I was sorely tempted."

The plump older woman seemed to deflate. "Whatever will we do with you, Maddy," she said in a softer voice, "you have to be realistic. We can barely maintain the estate."

Madeleine leaned forward and kissed her mother's forehead gently. "Trust me, mama. I will provide for us and Clarice can marry someone more worthy of her charms and distinction."

Matron Attleborough shook her head and gave something between a laugh and a sob. "I gve up. You are totally incorrigible."

"True," her daughter responded. "But equally unstoppable. Believe in me."

Mother and daughter sat in silence for awhile.

"Do you have anything else to say?" Matron Attleborough asked.

"Yes. Naruel is back in town I hear. I am going to meet her and Wing to catch p now."

"When!?" Although Matron Attleborough thought the Eastern born apprentice and the half-elven daughter of the town's most public minded wizard decent folk, if a bit exotic for her taste, but they were hardly the type of company she'd prefer her daughter to keep.

"Now," Madeleine said, getting up to leave the parlor.

"You can't ride out to the alehouse like that! How can you even ride in that dress?" mother shouted. Madeleine gave a teeth baring grin.

"I suppose you're right," she said as she stood and grabbed the sides of the delicate ankle length skirt she was wearing.

There was a ripping sound that made Dame Attleborough jump. The shreds of her skirt were in Madeleine's hands, but exposed not bare legs, but a rugged looking pair of pants. "Girl's got to be prepared," she explained with a shrug. Madeleine winked and gave her mother a quick peck. "I'm off, mama. Don't wait up!"

Then she was gone.

* * *

Autumn had brought a chill into the night air but a roaring fire kept the common room warm and lit. Ensconsed in a small table in the corner a slightly built Easterner, a willowy blond half-elf and a lanky, athletic chestnut haired human young woman drank and talked into the evening.

"Madeleine's led the guards of the last three caravans since you left," Wing pointed out, raising his mug to Madeleine.

Madeleine beamed and raised her stein. "To be precise, I led the last two and a half. In the last trek before the passes froze over last year, old Irongut took a wicked blow to the skull from a mace on the way there ... oh, no, he's fine -- the skull is the thickest part of that old dwarf's body -- so I led the guards on the way back."

"Impressive," Naruel replied.

"More a testament to our lack of other willing fools than anything else," Madeleine snorted, tossing her drink back.

"Not true," Wing objected, slapping Madeleine on the shoulder. "Irongut says Maddy might become the finest commander he's ever seen. I went on the last caravan and she's amazing. All your years of bossing everyone in the village around have paid off!" Madeleine shoved at Wing, but playfully, her smile broadening.

"Father let you go on a caravan, Wing?" Naruel's eyes widened. "Your skills must have really improved. You two have grown so fast."

As Wing launched into a description of his current state of arcane learning, Madeleine gazed at Naruel, her delicate, ethereal features and the slightly curved ears that peeked through her tussled blond hair. While Naruel appeared only slightly older than her own score of years, due to her partial Elvish heritage Naruel had appeared that way for about the last decade. Madeleine felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought Naruel would still be in the bloom of youth when Madeleine was middle aged, but also pity. Naruel's longevity was both blessing and curse, as the half-elf would likely see every friend she knew die before a single strand of her hair turned grey.

"Well, you have been gone two full harvests, Naruel," Madeleine pointed out, interrupting Wing's explanation of his most recent accomplishments. "You've been training with your kin almost a decade now. When will you be finished?"

"She's a slow learner," joked Wing.

Naruel put down her wine and laughed. "I can't win. My elven kin say I am too hasty to declare myself trained and my human ones wonder why I spend year after year running around the woods with my pointy eared relations. But ..." she reached in and pulled from her shirt a golden wrought symbol of a blade wrapped in ivy on a silver chain, "at long last, I suppose, I am supposedly ready to stop preparing and to start doing."

Madeleine applauded and Wing cheered, drawing momentary glances from the occupants of a few other tables. "Here's to us!" shouted Madeleine, to no one in particular. Naruel thought to quiet them for a moment, but then joined in, glad to be among friends once again.

* * * *

It was several weeks later when Naruel was called to one of the private rooms of the ale house by her father for an evening meeting. She strode up after a late afternoon's hike through the woods, boots muddied from the ground still wet from the recent rains. Upon entering the small but cozy space on the second floor that the ale house reserved for special occasions she saw in the flickering lights of the small firehearth the imposing but now slightly greyed form of her human father, barrel-chested guard captain Torin Irongut and in a shadowy corner Wing in his dark apprentice's cloak. But her attention was most drawn to the stranger among them.

Golden piercing eyes gazed out above a dull scarlet snout and below a crested brow of hornlike scales and a scaled talonlike claw gripped an ale stein. Though seated, the creature still stood a hand span larger than her father, of no mean height himself, and had imposing bulk, though Naruel surmised that was partially due to the heavy armor the creature was obviously wearing under its cloak.

"Father, Torin," Naruel bowed respectfully to each of the elders. As was custom, she did not greet Wing, but gave him a quick smile. She turned to the Dragonborn and curtseyed politely. The creature rose, and with a grasp that was surprisingly delicate, took Naruel's hand in a polite grasp. "I am Farad, a servant of Bahamut."

"I am Naruel."

"Daughter, be seated," Alastair said, standing and pointing to an empty seat. Naruel sat. Farad then himself sat down -- the wood of the chair groaning slightly under the weight of steel and scaled flesh.

"Farad's sire is an old friend of Torin's," Alastair began.

"Very old. Before the founding of this town, when I was a reckless young orcbreaker among my kin. My team was sent to find a foul beast named ..." interrupted Torin.

"Torin, let me speak. We do not have time for one of your ale-befuddled tales of adventure," Alastair snapped. Torin snorted, but fell silent.

"Farad is on his way to the town of Winterhaven at the request of his order." Naruel had heard of Winterhaven but never traveled there and rarely met others from there. It was isolated and even further north than their own, nestled in the southern foothills of the Cairngorm Peaks. Reached via the long neglected Kings Road, a journey risked bandits or worse. "The historian Douven Staul was last known to be traveling there to research a dragon burial site and Farad's order had some interest in his most recent inquiries. He has been absent longer than would be expected, so the order thought it prudent to check on him."

Naruel recalled reading a book of Douven's in father's library -- a rather dry tome comparing rituals of various ancient religions. He had even visited once. She recalled a tall, stooped, somewhat balding old man visiting the tower years back, sitting amidst father's dusty books and contraptions and talking late into the night of ancient kingdoms and lost relics. He had seemed harmless enough -- she wondered what he might have found that would prompt the interest of the paladins of Bahamut.

"Douven is an acquaintance of mine and we share some interests. I would not want to see him come to harm, and if the Order of Bahamut believes his absence may be related to what he was studying, it concerns me, as some of the lore Douven followed relates to ancient troubles. Torin and I agree that you are best qualified to accompany him. As you know, Wing also has a keen grasp of history and so I thought his knowledge might help Farad, as well as his growing abilities." Alastair continued.

"Of course, I will go." Naruel said, "I am a ranger and well versed in tracking prey, be it two footed or four footed. Between Farad and I, we can surely find him, and deal with any trouble along the way. Wing is not necessary. There is no need for him to go on such a potentially dangerous journey ..."

"Hey!" Wing exclaimed, moving forward. Alastair waved him back.

"Naruel, I know you have the best of intentions for my apprentice, but he is no longer the child that you remember him as. He has the potential to be a formidable caster and his skills might be important in tracing Douven's steps," Alastair laid his hand on her arm and smiled at her. "Besides, if I am going to send him out, I'll be glad to know you are there to protect him."

"Milady, your valor is most becoming." Farad's deep voice echoed in the small room. "But prudence as well as valor is important. Often numbers are a greater deterrent to trouble than even the most fearsome of solitary travelers. That is why I have sought Torin's aid, to seek companions."

"Aye, but my duties here prevent me from gallivanting off for a month, even for good causes," the dwarf replied.

"What about Madeleine?" Wing blurted out from the back of the room. Naruel shook her head in disapproval, and Alastair looked surprised at his apprentice.

"She's the deadliest blade in the militia and can out command Irongut on a battlefield -- no offense -- " Wing continued, stammering a bit as he looked at now scowling Naruel.

"This is not some fun trip to the city, Wing, or even scaring off some starving serfs wielding sticks and pitchforks away from a caravan," Naruel retorted, giving him a pointed look that reminded Wing of when she'd scorched his bottom after catching him smoking father's pipe when he was little.

"Besides, you know she'll run off with the next mercenary group that comes into town to seek her fortune if you don't give her an opportunity." he concluded. Naruel silently conceded that he had a point -- these days their friend constantly spoke of rumors of far away wars and fortunes to be made with a fervor that bordered on obsession.

"Maddy Attleborough is an inspiring commander and an accomplished swordsman ... woman ... whatever," Torin mused, stroking his beard. "You won't find a cooler head in the head of battle. If I were in a fight, Wing's right -- there's no one I'd trust more. Farad, you should bring her as well. Tad unorthodox, but any problems bringing two lasses and an easterner?"

The Dragonborn's laugh was unexpected, but it sounded just as Naruel imagined it would, a deep chortling sound that she more felt than heard. "Says the one-eyed dwarf to the dragonborn. Who am I to judge on what is unusual, Torin Irongut, friend of my clan? Lord Bahamut smiles upon all who seek to uphold the cause of the righteous, regardless of what they look like."

"It is settled then," Alastair said. "Wing come here and grab a glass. Let us drink to all of your good fortune. Torin will tell Madeleine tomorrow and then once you are ready, you will be off. Wing, you and Madeleine are to follow Naruel's lead -- do not disobey her. May Ioun grant you insight."

They drank.