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.