8 - Into the Ruins [Story]

The keep itself was nothing but uninhabited ruins. Great piles of shattered stone blocks and scorched timbers litter the site, sprawling out from its center to the edge of the woods. No plants grew among the ruins or in any of the site, which was just bare dirt. The woods that seemed to so quickly overgrow the seemingly rarely traveled road to the keep had made no intrusion onto the site itself, as if afraid.

However, even those without the perception of Naruel or the construction knowledge of Bailyn could tell that there had been activity in the ruins. In the center of the debris, stone blocks and timbers have been gathered into a pile. There was a path through the rubble and the wreckage had been pulled aside to reveal a stone staircase, descending into darkness.

Naruel pulled on her mask and turned around. Her voice slightly muffled by the fabric, she told them that she would scout ahead.

* * * *

Hidden in the shadows of the stairwell, Naruel peered into the room before her. It was a bare stone room illuminated by the flicker of torchlight. On the far end stood a gangly, short dirty grey-green humanoid -- a goblin, clad in functional but raggedy leather armor. She gestured to her friends waiting behind her to wait until a signal.

She fired. The goblin yelled in surprise as the arrow grazed him. At that sound, the rest of the group came rushing down he steps.

Wing and Naruel stopped at the entry to the stairway, firing arcane and mundane missiles at the guard.

Brandishing his warhammer, Farad charged the surprised and wounded goblin, but before he could reach him, the dragonborn disappeared from sight as the ground gave way beneath him. There was a loud crash as the plate mail laden paladin landed awkwardly in the concealed pit. Farad had landed in the midst of a swarm of squeaking, biting rats that filled the concealed pit. Farad cursed and swung his warhammer, smashing left and right at the seething mass of fur, teeth and claws. Madeleine and Bailyn ran around the pit towards the guard.

"Wing!" yelled Madeleine.

"Got it!" answered the mage. A collumn of flame erupted from the pit. It was so close that Farad could feel the heat of the magical fire, but the spell was effective against the mass of vermin, leaving a stinking pile of burnt corpses in its wake.

The goblin guard was down, Naruel's arrows rising from its slumped form, but two goblins bearing bows appeared from a chamber behind the entry room. Guttural battle cries erupted as they knelt and fired, but in their haste the shots went wide, crashing harmlessly into stone walls.

Calmly, Naruel returned fire, with much greater accuracy. Two arrows flew true and plunged deep -- through leather and into tender flesh. One goblin staggered back and before it could recover Madeleine was upon it. With one powerful swing she cut the goblin open, who fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Farad and Wing finished off the remaining rats with hammer and magical fire, the paladin's boots and legs soon covered in a dreck of blood and gristle from burned and smashed vermin.

Bailyn ran by Madeleine after the remaining archer. As he gave chase into the next chamber a goblin who had been waiting in the corner charged, brandishing shield and blade. But the dwarf was ready; before the soldier could attack, Bailyn smashed his maul into the goblin's side and simultaneously lashed out with his leg. The goblin fell in a crash to the floor with a scream of pain and surprise.

The last remaining goblin archer squealed in terror and ran through the door to its right. "Runner!" yelled Madeleine as her greatsword carved a fatal gash in the midsection of the goblin that Bailyn had sent to the floor.

The last remaining goblin archer raced through an empty store room and tore through a dark curtain. Wing and Naruel were waiting on the other side. The first bolt of ice that appeared from Wing's hand went wide. The goblin, shrieking, ran by them and towards the door to their left. Naruel calmly aimed at the exposed goblin's back.

The goblin shuddered as he gripped the door handle, then crumpled to the ground, two arrows buried deep in its body. Its corpse came to rest leaning against the door.

The calm after the fight was broken by the paladin's voice: "Can someone assist me? I am afraid with my armor I can not get out of this pit unassisted."

* * * *

Cracking open the door where the goblin had unsuccessfully tried to flee, Naruel, Farad and Bailyn saw another plan torch-lit stone hallway and heard several goblin voices in the distance. Though none of them spoke their tongue, it sounded like an argument. Madeleine gestured for Naruel to move forward. "Same plan," she whispered, "we'll charge upon your fire." Naruel did not respond.

"Nary, I sad ..." Madeleine repeated.

"Wait," Naruel said. She paused and looked at what appeared to Madeleine as nothing but blank stone wall. "What is that?" she whispered.

"What is what?" Madeleine whispered in response. She turned to Wing, who also was looking puzzled. Bailyn's reaction, however, was different. He gave a low whistle, "Lassy, that is a fine catch. Even a stone working dwarf as myself did not see it."

"See what?" Madeleine said, a bit exasperated.

"There's a door there," Naruel said.

* * * *
The hidden doorway slid open without a sound and Naruel peeked out into a small chamber whose walls were formed by hanging tapestries. The room was dominated by a bed upon which lay the fattest goblin Naruel had ever seen, soundly asleep and snoring.

* * * *

Balgrom the Fat awoke from pleasant dreams of roasted lizard to a gauntlet over the mouth and a sharp blade to the throad. "If you do not speak common you are about to die. Do not speak a word and nod your head if you understand," said a woman's voice. Balgrom looked up at the masked intruder and saw calm resolve in her light blue eyes.

The goblin nodded.

"Get up. You're coming with me."

* * * *

"Oy, goblins smell rank enough, but this chubby one takes the cake!" Bailyn snorted, his nose wrinkling.

"By the looks of it, a lot of cakes." Wing noted. Naruel shushed them and leaned over the immensely fat goblin, who was sitting naked in the secret tunnel floor, surrounded by the adventurers and his clothing in a pile beside them. "Are you Kalarel?" she asked.

"I am not Kalarel!" the goblin answered in heavily accented common.

The adventurers looked at each other. It was probably true. Whoever wrote the message to Irontooth wrote in a clean legible hand and this creature's common was barely intelligible. "Who are you?" Naruel demanded.

"I am Balgrom, leader of the goblins here. I do not know this Kalarel... let me go and I will take my people and leave."

Wing's eyes narrowed. He leaned over and a ghostly green glow emanated from his hands. "Well, if you do not know who Kalarel is, you are of no use to us..."

The obese goblin blanched and his multiple chins quivered. "No, no, wait! I am sorry, I know where Kalarel is. He is not here. He is down below ..."

"Where is the rift?" Farad demanded, the dragonborn kneeling down so that his snout almost touched the goblin.

"Rift? What rift?"

Balgrom whimpered and put his pudgy hands up in defense as Farad waved his warhammer at him. "Don't lie you disgusting little minion of Orcus! I will leave your remains spread all over this wall" he rumbled.

"I am not lying! Kalarel does many things down below ... I am but a simple goblin! Please spare me ... I give you my treasure chest .... key in pants" Balgrom cried. An even more rank smell assailed them as a puddle began to form around where Balgrom sat. Madeleine gagged in disgust but Farad continued to wave his hammer.

Naruel interposed herself between Bailyn and the sobbing goblin, partly out of pity, partly out of fear that Bailyn might cause the terrified goblin to scream and alert nearby guards.

"Quit it. I believe that he doesn't know anything about the rift."

"I do not worship Orcus! Please let me go!" Balgrom pleaded, spittle flying out of his bloated lips.

"I believe him. Looks like to me that the only thing this guy worships is the lord of meat pies," Bailyn muttered to Madeleine.

"I tell you how to get to the stairs to the lower level if you let me go. Kalarel is there," Balgrom suggested.

"He'll just run and get his mates or maybe even warn Kalarel if we let him go. Maybe we should take him back to town. Lord Padraig can have him tried for banditry. We may even get a reward." Madeleine suggested, pointing at him menacingly with her warblade. Balgrom waved his hands in apparent alarm at the prospect of being dragged to town.

"No, no! I have another offer. I will take you to the stairs to the lower level. Hobgoblins guard the way but I know the password. Kalarel is down there but I do not know where. I take you to the stairs-- then you promise to let me go? I will run away and not bother you -- I promise!"

"We should have him take us all the way to Kalarel," Bailyn said.

"No! I do not know where Kalarel is -- I am not allowed beyond the first room. There are hobgoblins there guarding him. You will have to fight them and if you bring me they will kill me! But I give you the password -- it is "And life fails in the dark". You get the drop on them. But I can not go -- it is murder -- I am naked and unarmed!" Balgrom hissed, his jowls bouncing with the emphasis.

The group was silent as they stood around the quavering fleshy goblin. "We'll see," Naruel said, her voice muffled through her mask. "First you take us there."

"Hey, before we go," Madeleine said. "What was that about a treasure?"

7 - Clues in Vellum [Story]

Naruel held the parchment scroll addressed to Irontooth in her hands and looked at it again.

"My spy in Winterhaven suggests we keep an eye out for visitors. It probably does not matter; in just a few days I will completely open the rift into the Shadowfell. Then Winterhaven's people will serve as food for all those Lord Orcus send to do my bidding."

Signed by someone or something named Kalarel, it was written in common and in the precise legible print of someone who was clearly literate. It shed light on the situation, but the situation it revealed was troubling. There was an active agent of Lord Orcus in the area and that agent was seeking to open some sort of rift. Judging by the relatively crispness of the scroll and its condition, the scroll seemed relatively recent. In addition, that agent had a spy in Winterhaven, which made it unclear who the group could be candid with.

"We must find this rift and prevent it from being opened, or seal it if it has been opened already," Farad rumbled from where he lay, unarmored. He had mostly recovered from his wounds over the last two days since the battle, but he was still tired and had spent most of the day in bed.

"I agree, but where is this rift?" asked Bailyn as he looked up from his hand of cards. Madeleine nodded in assent from her seat across from him, also clutching a brace of cards. While the stout warrior with his coarse features and the girlish brown haired swordswoman cut an unlikely pair, he and Madeleine's friendship had only deepened after the battle as they had shared in the tough battle against the goblin leader of the kobolds.

"Perhaps we should ask Valthrun," suggested Wing. "His past advice has been helpful."

"No, he might be the spy. There is something wrong with a sage with clean quarters who wears cologne. He seems too slick for a wizard," grumbled Madeleine.

Naruel thought Madeleine's reasoning off, but her instincts were right. "Until we have a better sense of who might be in league with this evil force, I agree we must be cautious. While I can't say I agree with Madeleine's reasons for not trusting Valthrun, we were ambushed on the way to Douven. He and Ninaran both knew that we were heading out that way, so until we know more, both of them should be avoided."

"We could stake them out to see whether they leave to meet up with their evil master," suggested Bailyn.

Farad gave a disapproving grumble. "That might take too long and we do not know whether they even physically meet. They may use go betweens or mystical means of communication. We do not have time -- if the note is correct, the longer we wait, the more the threat grows."

"I think the next step should be for us to explore the ruined keep. I do not know how but the Terathian empire, the cult of Orcus, the rift and the fall of Sir Keegan are all related. The keep is where Sir Keegan went mad and it was from the era of the Terathian empire -- it stands to reason that the rift might be there and that is why Sir Keegan went made living there -- the corruption of the weakening rift maybe twisted his mind." Wing pointed out.

* * * *

"Whats bothering you girls?" Gorram asked as he rested his broom upon one of the stone gravestones and walked towards his dogs, who had begun to bark furiously. While entering his middle-age,Winterhaven's cemetery groundskeeper was still fit and lean and he put his hand upon his shortsword. Winterhaven was a quiet town but on occasion a bandit or vagabond attempted to graverob. His dogs and his blade had sent many a ruffian to flight or, were they unwise enough to challenge, to some additional guests at his place of occupation.

The dogs continued to bark into the darkness. Gorram peered out beyond the edge of the graveyard fence and then saw the cause of the commotion. A cloaked figure striding towards the front gate of the cemetery.

"Halt! Decent folk have no business coming out to this place in the dead of night," Gorram projected, unsheathing his blade.

"I am sorry. Lord Padraig has sent me on important business," responded the figure.

"Oh." Gorram sheathed his blade and called his dogs to heel, recognizing the distinctive figure. "What can I do for you, this evening?"

The cloaked figure reached him.

"You can die." A longsword glinted for a moment under the moonlight and then was sheathed in flesh. Gorram fell.

6 - Letter Home [Story]

Dearest Clarice,

I hope this letter finds you well. Please do not be mad at your little sister, for though I am often a tad reckless, I only have the best of intentions for both you and all of our family. Included in this letter please find eighty gold coins, which is the lion's share of my portion of a reward for our having rid the town of Winterhaven from a predatory band of kobolds.

Naruel took but a couple of days before we found the kobolds. They had made camp behind a small waterfall southwest of Winterhaven. We reached them in the mid-morning. There was a small river that ran from the mouth of waterfall that was shielded on both sides by light pine trees, still green despite the onset of fall. Through the trees you could see little rust-colored scaly humanoids with lizard-like heads and tails -- kobolds. There were maybe a dozen or so outside, scattered in groups of two or three, clad in basic hide armor and with spears in hand or by their side and quivers of javelins. We came in from the northeast of the waterfall, in formation so that if the kobolds charged us the most armored of us would reach them first.

It was a most rousing battle. Naruel was covered in head to toe in brown and green ranger gear, only her eyes visible, and cut a menacing figure. She moved so quietly you could barely notice her. Farad's platemail had been cleaned and though he wrapped it in a cloak while we snuck upon them to avoid the refection giving us away, once battle was joined, he tossed it away and it was quite a sight -- snarling dragonshead, seven feet of gleaming armor, an immense warhammer in one hand, a shield in the other. I too had my chainmail hidden under a dark grey cloak but it was polished and repaired, and I had my trusty warblade slung over my shoulder. Wing tells me I cut quite a figure. He looked fine too -- his traveler's clothes are not particularly impressive and his staff is rather plain, but his spells have helped us out many a time. We had the dwarf Torin sent us too -- I've always thought of dwarves wielding axes like Torin does, but this doughty young one wields a giant hammer and though you'd think creatures so squat and short would be slow -- like Torin he is remarkably spry -- even in scale armor.

I don't know whether it was the noise of the waterfall or that they were not expecting an attack in the morning, or maybe even in Farad's plate and my chainmail we were quieter than I thought, but the little lizardfolk were scarcely moving and made easy targets at first, despite the fact that there were trees in between us and many of them. Five or six fell in moments as we launched crossbow bolt, arrows, javelins and arcane missiles at them.

The remaining creatures let loose a terrible cry and charged toward us. Even after the ones we slew they outnumbered us. Javelins flew through the air. One of them came close to me as I reloaded my crossbow and another one glanced off of the dwarf's shoulder. We returned fire, but the little creatures are fast as the devil and we didn't really winnow their numbers down much that way, though Wing blew one creature's head. It burst like an overripe melon falling off the top of a wagon -- you would have fainted!

I am certain that just as in other societies there are different kinds of kobolds -- some more accomplished than others. While most of them simply carried simple spears and javelins, there were some fierce swordsmen with wicked swords and dragonscale shields. One of those charged Farad from the south -- big reptilian against little -- who was standing next to me. Another, slightly bigger kobold attacked from the east, but before he could reach Naruel and Wing Bailyn stepped in his way, maul at the ready.

The kobold fighting Farad was not without talent, but you should have seen me! When it fell for one of my feints and I slashed it deep across the leg and as its attention was diverted, it gave my paladin an opening and he administered two heavy blows to its leg and chest. I could not understanding its language but its cries were recognizable by anyone -- anger and fear.

Wing has a spell in which a giant fan of flames leaps out from his hands after he speads them out like a fan. He's really got an impressive array of spells. Facing the creatures pressing on us from the eastern side, he used it. We had pretty much reached the woods that partially obscured the mouth of the waterfall from the surrounding terrain and the air was filled with the scent of burning wood and flesh. It was spectacular and he slew a couple more outright.

Wing turned and hit the burly kobold fighting Bailyn with an icy bolt that pierced its chest. Whether or not that would have killed it, it gave the dwarf an opening and he knocked the creature's guts clean out of his body.

The dragonshield, hurt, drew back. The things are hard to fight hand to hand if they are not willing to engage. Farad blew fire all over both that creature and the kobold behind it that was throwing its remaining javelins at us. When the cloud of fire disappeared, the Dragonshield still stood, but barely. Naruel and Wing shot it with missiles arcane and ordinary and it went down, a fletched arrow in its chest and a burning hole in its head.

One sort of nasty kobold carries a sling and has a bandolier running down its chest in which it keeps a variety of unusual ceramic slingstones. In an earlier fight one had really roasted me bad with one that had burst into flame upon hitting me. The watchgroup outside had one such kobold and though Wing had scorched it with his fan of flames and Naruel had shot it, it was still alive and it was fast. It disappeared out of sight behind the waterfall, yelling in its alien tongue. Farad warned us it was going to warn the others, so we took but a moment to collect ourselves and we charged through the mist and roar of the waterfall into the darkness of the hollow behind. We entered from a space north of the waterfall.

It took a moment to adjust from the early morning sunlight to the dim illumination of the hollow behind the waterfall, which stretched south below. There were inhuman shouts and screams and we could see more than a dozen kobolds scurrying in and out of sight throughout the natural rooms of the cave, which was lit by crude torches on the walls. It was a confusing melee -- a nimble brown-red kobold charged me and thrust a spear that grazed me right after I shot one down with a crossbow. Naruel and Wing were firing at ones further out. Bailyn struck down two with one mighty blow and Farad attacked the one trying to stab me, ignoring the fact that javelins were raining down at him.

I dropped my crossbow and unsheathed my warblade. A little reptile swung at me but I sidestepped and ran it through, sending its guts onto the floor. Bailyn struck down another. Farad and I had formed a wall to protect Wing and Naruel from attackers streaming up north from the cave with Bailyn further east, to my left.

We had managed to down most but not all of the littler kobolds, but there were three or four hardier ones among us. Then, even further east than where Bailyn we saw a group of 3 kobolds, watching and waiting for their time to strike. One was of the type we had seen before, wearing a skull mask crafted to look like a dragon and clothed in crimson armor -- I kept the mask and will show you when I return. Two were the dragonshields I described earlier. And with them was Irontooth -- though at the time I did not know his name.

He was a burly, battle scared goblin. Even at the distance in the dim torchlight you could see a crude tattoo all across his face -- a skeletal ram's head. He wore a wolf fur cloak and you could see the glint of chainmail. A battleaxe was clasped in his hands. And though we were making short work of his men, I could tell that he did not care and did not fear. I warned that a charge was coming and for us to redouble our efforts. Farad's warhammer, Bailyn's maul, my warblade and Naruel's arrows found their mark and two more kobolds fell, but even as they did the skull-masked kobold had hurled a magical orb, which exploded in magical fire on Bailyn and Irontooth charged into our midst. Bailyn engaged him, the dwarf bravely interposing himself between Irontooth and the rest of us.

Farad, wearied and wounded from javelins, sword slashes and spear wounds, finally fell to a vicious spear thrust from a kobold. Enraged, I struck it, but it partially deflected my blows with its shield. Knowing that we would be exposed the longer the smaller kobolds distracted us I urged us to take the goblin last. Bailyn said something too crude to repeat as he was trying to survive Irontooth's whirling axe but he mustered himself. He administered a brutal strike to a dragonshield seeking to flank him. shattering armor and bone right as Naruel shot it, and one of the two dragonshields was down.

Wing had slipped behind me and right next to me sent his fan of flames through the cavern. For a moment it was like the sun had broken through the cascading water in the falls and then it was gone. The dragonshield and Irontooth were in our midst and unharmed but the remaining kobolds to the south were charred wrecks -- I imagine it smelled terrible but honestly I could only taste the blood in my mouth and smell the metal and sweat of battle.

One dragonshield, one of the burly kobolds and Irontooth were among us, meleeing, and the skull-masked kobold was still back hurling burning globes of fire at us. We focused on the dragonshield and the burly kobold. Wing fired a mystical bolt into the dragonshield and it hit him square in the chest, but the kobold just roared in fury and slashed at us. Naruel used one of her ranger tricks and fired two arrows, seemingly at once. While both found their mark, the burly kobold fell but the dragonshield refused to go down. I urged us to have heart, because the atmosphere was getting desperate. Bailyn narrowly missed being beheaded by Irontooth's battle-axe but, inspired by my words (I know you are rolling your eyes, dear sister, but the dwarf told me so later himself -- my leadership enabled him to believe and continue fighting as long as he did) he administered a wicked blow to the dragonshield that left it a bloody heap.

Now it was just Irontooth and skull-mask. I seized the opportunity and swung around Irontooth, who was still viciously attacking Bailyn in a frenzy of sharp edged steel. Both hands clung tight around the hilt I plunged the blade deep into his side as I cried out that victory was upon us. Irontooth roared, his ugly visage even more grotesque as he howled in pain. Following my lead Bailyn struck the tattooed goblin from the other side. Enraged, Irontooth almost seemed to swell in size and he continued to fight. We outnumbered them two to one by now, but it seemed to me that our victory teetered on a precipice of defeat.

Arrows flew by me as Nary brought the Wympriest down in a flurry of arrows. Irontooth screamed as a yellowish acid bolt from Wing hit him, his face so close to me that I could smell his rank breath. We had struck him with sword and maul and magical bolt; he bled a dark thick red blood from deep wounds and you could smell the charnel scent as his flesh burned from the acid, but he only seemed to draw strength from his wounds.

He seemed so strong and we were so tired. Almost as if it were slow motion I saw him turn and strike a blow that caught Bailyn right across the left side. The dwarf crumpled in a heap, blood streaming from a gash in his scale armor. My arms and legs felt like lead -- I tried to raise my warblade -- but the goblin, covered in blood from his wounds, was so fast. The battle-axs slammed down into my chest, driving me to my knees. I'd be dead if it were not for my mail, but even with it, the pain was indescribable. As I blacked out, I still had enough presence of mind to call out for Nary and Wing to take him down from a distance.

I awoke with Wing bandaging my wounds and Farad calling upon Bahamut to heal me. Wing had braved a charge from Irontooth to fire bolt after icey bolt at the goblin as Nary peppered him with arrows. Wing sustained a nasty gash on his leg, but my plan worked and the wounded goblin, chilled and slowed by Wing's spells, was finally taken down by Naruel's relentless arrows.

We rested in the hollow for a day, recuperating from our wounds and searching throughout their lair. The gold I have sent is partially from the hoard that we found in a corner of the kobold's den, locked in a chest kept by Irontooth. There was also a beatiful set of chain mail that Wing sensed was magically forged -- but it was made for the short, stout frame of a dwarf so Bailyn took it.

Lord Padraig has rewarded us and has written me a letter of commendation. Though this amount is still small, Clarice, I hope you and mama put it to good use. I will restore our house to glory. I can feel it. I will not be home for a while yet -- in addition to the gold we found a very troubling note that leads us to believe there is evil afoot in Winterhaven that must be dealt with. I can not leave my companions behind, and I believe I have been called to help lead them in battle. Please take care of mama and give everyone my best. I will see you soon.

5 - Recovering Lost Sages [Story]

It was late in the afternoon, when, with a rumble, one of the two dragonlike creatures guarding the steep sided crater turned and growled a warning of an outsider's approach. The men clustered around the collection of bones and stone stopped, some picking up clubs.

"Wait," called out Agrid, the dig leader. Smaller and more slender than a human, Agrid grabbed his crossbow and scrambled toward the drakes. "Calm down, my pretties. Not every visitor is an enemy."

Calling out in a loud voice he said "Douven? Is that you?"

"No, but we are seeking him," called out a loud voice in return. A dwarf in scale mail and a dragonborn in battered, bloodstained plate emerged, and Agrid could see several human sized creatures behind them. "Where is he?" called the dwarf.

"I have not seen him for two days. He left for more supplies but should be back soon. I feared you were kobolds -- I have lost four men this month," Agrid responded. "Come forward, I will tell my drakes to let you pass."

Agrid noticed that the groups' hands remained close to hilts and shields. He backed away and latched his crossbow on a hook upon his dark leather belt. "Heel, my pretties," Agrid called. The drakes looked back at him, then sat upon their scaled haunches.

"I have a map I can share of where he was supposed to go. If you want, I can show it to you and you can be on your way."

The group talked among themselves, then proceeded slowly towards the crater.

As they reached the entrance of the crater, Agrid called out reassuringly "Stay, my pretties. Stay."

Well trained, upon hearing the keyword the drakes lunged forward, their powerful jaws slavering. Agrid swung his crossbow up and ran forward.

* * * *

Even without Naruel's admonitions, the group had been half-expecting a trap. Anticipating the attack, they weaved and dodged the sling stone and crossbow bolt that were launched at them from the grey skinned demi-human and a small figure barely visible on the other side of the crater. Farad stood his ground against one of the two drakes. The second struck at Bailyn. Bailyn growled in rage as a massive blow by his maul was avoided by the remarkably agile creature, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of brown hair and the reflection of the setting sun upon Madeleine's polished greatsword. She struck at its flank and as it bellowed in rage and tried to avoid further harm from the deadly human, it opened itself up to a blow from the dwarf, who struck hard.

The miners charged the group, wielding clubs and sticks. They were outmatched. A mystical bolt from Wing sent one into the dirt and two more fell soon after, arrows protruding from them.

Agrid cursed in frustration as his bolt flew wide again. He screamed at his halfling companion, "Get closer. You are too far!"

As the drake's sharp talons scraped across Bailyn's chest, Madeleine winced, but the stout dwarf did not even flinch. "You call that a wound, beastie? I'll show you a wound!" he cried and brought his maul down with both hands on the drake's now exposed head. There was a sickening crunch and everyone around was covered in a spray of red and grey goo and liquid. The dying drake stumbled, and crumbled from a final bolt from Wing.

Blood pounding in her ears Madeleine hurtled across the stony ground of the crater and leapt on top of the second drake, focused on Farad. "To me!" she cried and plunged her greatsword down, deep through scale and into the beasts' body. It screamed and bucked.

The drake's teeth snapped perilously close to Madeleine as she struggled to pull her blade free. She heard the beasts' body shake once as one of Naruel's arrows plunged into it and again as Bailyn was by her side, swinging his maul ferociously. Suddenly the drake was lying still. As she stood up she saw Wing finishing up one of the last of the miners and Bailyn and Farad in the center of the crater, engaging the leader of the ambush and the sling wielder. Not wanting to be left out, she charged

Agrid scrambled back as the paladin, now free of his pet drakes, pursued him, then dropped his crossbow and grabbed his vicious warpick and sliced the dragonborn across the leg. "Kill this bastard!" he yelled. His heart pounded as he saw the rest of the group charging towards him, magic blasts and bolts flying at his halfling companion. The dwarf appeared from nowhere and swung viciously at him, but Agrid was fast.

Farad's sense of satisfaction at striking a solid blow to the dark eye, grey-skinned creature dissolved as it gave him an evil grin and disappeared.

"Regroup! They stealth!" Madeleine cried, her green eyes flashing with excitement, "we almost have them. Don't let down your ..."

Before she could finish her sentence she staggered as she felt an explosive searing pain deep into her back.

Wing fired a magical bolt at the skulk clinging to Madeleine's back. Naruel drew upon all her strength and fired arrow after arrow. Smoking from mystical energy and protruding arrows, it let loosed its hold and Madeleine stumbled forward, blood flowing from a gaping dagger wound in her back, but still alive and conscious. Before Agrid could administer a final blow Bailyn was there. "You'll pay for that!" muttered Bailyn as his maul crushed leather, bone and flesh.

Perrin, halfling mercenary, always knew he'd die by the sword, but had never hoped it would happen so soon. Now, hopelessly outnumbered, desperately avoiding swing after swing of a dragon man's warhammer, he less felt anger or fear than regret. Of all the ways to die, to die in some forsaken crater rather than in a bejeweled dragon's den or with some royalty dying of his well placed blade, was disappointing. "By Bahamut's Eye, you will face me!" roared the scaly beast as it knocked him back. By the feel of it, his ribs were cracked.

"Fat chance, buddy!" Perrin hissed. The brown haired human girl looked close to falling and if he were to go, he wanted them to have something to remember them by. Ignoring the paladin in his face, Perrin leapt to get a clear view. He hurled a stone.

It flew wide as the dwarf standing beside the girl pushed her out of the way. And as he felt a searing pain rack his body as if a divine presence had admonished his affrontery, Perrin cursed the gods as he faded into blackness.

* * * *

Salvana winced as Bairwin and another local crashed to the ground, spilling off of the other man's shoulders, knocking plates and cups off of a nearby table, her nimble mind counting the costs -- at least a silver piece of cutlery smashed, probably refills of food and drink for the innocent patrons. She gave a half-pained smile and waved along with the rest of the cheering onlookers as the dwarf spun around with the boisterous young human swordswoman on his shoulders. "Who else will have a go against the champion chicken fighters of Wrafton's Inn?" shouted Madeleine, flushed red with ale.

Still, Salvana knew that the crowd tonight was larger than usual -- starting from late afternoon, work done, curious townfolk had shown up to see the adventurers, who had shown up in the dead of night with Douven Staul ragged but alive and a dwarven warrior as additions. The group had come and gone from their shared room during the day in groups of one or two to runn errands but largely stayed in the room. However, in the evening the whole group had gone down to the common room. The townspeople's patience was further rewarded by the willingness of some of the group to tell of their adventures and to buy rounds of drinks for their appreciative audience.

Back in the corner where they had sat the first night, Wing turned a cracked gemmed mirror in his hands and gazed at the historian-explorer. After a day's rest, the older man looked less bedraggled but still weary, deep circles under his eyes and bruises on his face from his week of captivity.

The mirror was Douven's chief find -- he had found it only hours before his camp was overrun by the men that Wing and his companions had killed the night before -- and they had found it in a pouch on the corpose of the grey-skinned demi-human. By the glyphs and ornamentation Wing had identified it as belonging to a wizard of Nerath. But he knew of no direct connection between the wizards of Nerath and the demonlord Orcus, other than the fact that Orcus had been worshipped for millenia and therefore before and after the Nerathian Empire. Like his stave, the mirror was not ornamental -- it was an implement used for some sort of ritual -- but it had no obvious magical abilities and Wing could not identify even what type of ritual it was used in.

There was also the puzzle of the fact that Douven did not seem to know Farad at all and, while grateful, had seemed genuinely surprised to be rescued at the behest of the religious order of warriors.

"Wing, what do you suggest we do?" Naruel asked. Wing was flattered that she would ask for his advice but not surprised -- Naruel had good judgment and Wing had been the most able to identify the various unusual items they had found thus far.

"Well, Valthrun really did not know anything more about this than I did, so I think we best take this to father. But, if you don't mind me asking, Farad, what exactly was your order's interest in Douven? Douven doesn't know anything about you," the mage asked, putting the mirror away in a pouch.

"Indeed, I have had little dealings with any religious orders," assented Douven.

Wing's ability to read the expressions of his dragon-faced comrade was far from perfect, but he sensed discomfort.

"I suppose I can tell you, seeing as you have assisted me greatly thus far," Farad rumbled. "We received a vague but undeniably authentic divine message that Douven was stumbling upon something related to a great tragedy in my order several years ago. We have been monitoring his recent explorations and sending our agents to track his finds when he disappeared near Winterhaven."

"Several years ago? What was it?" Wing asked.

"We should speak quietly as I have been told it is a sore subject of the town. Eight years ago, the lord of this town, a Sir Keegan, went mad and killed many innocent people before being subdued. He was a man of our order."

"I am sorry to hear that," Wing. "But I am not sure how a two or three hundred year old mirror has anything to do with a paladin's crimes eight years ago." Douven nodded in agreement.

"Sir Keegan went mad while in the keep. Wing, you mentioned that Valthrun mentioned the keep also dated back to the time of the Nerathian empire?" Farad queried.

Wing nodded in assent. "That's true. Lord Padraig's manor house also dates back to that era. We could explore both of those."

"They are many unclear paths here. I am also not sure of how Orcus is involved. But I believe it behooves me to continue to investigate," the dragonborn sighed.

He tossed a small pouch that landed with a clink upon the table and dropped next to it a rolled piece of parchment. "Here are traveling provisions. I believe a caravan is leaving for the south tomorrow. Douven, join it, and make your way south. Bring this report to the first temple of Bahamut you find."

Douven grabbed the pouch and nodded.

"What should we do next?" Wing asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

"I will accompany your group -- I believe you are planning on trying to find the remaining kobolds, no?" asked Farad. While Wing had sought Valthrun's advice, Farad had gone to the temple and Naruel had gone to Ninaran to find information on the mirror and the foes they had encountered, Madeleine had gone directly to Lord Padraig and, after bullying her way through the gate, had managed to increase the size of the proferred reward in return for assurances by her that "her band of mighty warriors" would soon rid the area of the kobolds. "It is a worthwhile cause, and may shed further light on this cult of Orcus," Farad explained.

"Your help will be appreciated," Naruel answered. For a moment her eyes looked troubled, but the moment passed. "That is a fight for tomorrow. Tonight, let us enjoy our hard fought victory. Wing, lets go show Maddy and that old dwarf what chicken fighting really means!"