Role Playing Related Fiction by The Company of Strangers

The Journal of Calamar Eldanil:

Part 3 - The Greatest Evil:

17th Snowflowers 591

A startling occurrence happened this morning. My good friend Rackhe came down to breakfast with a pained look on his face. When we inquired after his health, he glanced at me and said, “The nightmares. They are affecting me.” After assuring him that I too was feeling the effects, he merely shook his head and opened his shirt.

A fist sized bruise had appeared just over his heart!

I surreptitiously healed Rackhe but it did indeed look as if resolving our issues with the demon-inspired dreams would have to take precedence over all. My pains were not visible to the others, being more, I assumed, in spirit than in body. I seemed to often be in a quandary these days about why my faith had failed me. Nothing in my ken had prepared me for the type of suffering that my friend was going through. Moreover, this day would prove fruitful in finding out more information towards this end. Master Culbane, the magistrate, had informed us that he had some information for us.

Over the remainder of breakfast, we discussed what our plans for the day were to be. Dinner with Mayor Castle was not until later that evening so the day was ours. Kiri still had some scribing work to do, and I also had some scrolls to finish up, but Rackhe and Narion decided to visit Lessa the Seamstress for some finer clothes for dinner. Narion actually bought a very nice suit of clothes for the occasion.

Later that afternoon, we three fellows (Kiri was still scribbling away in her room) visited Culbane. He somewhat amusedly inquired as to whether or not we had had any more brushes with the criminal element. We all chuckled a bit over this but he did warn us that Hastein was not necessarily to be trifled with.

He then began telling us of the information he had unearthed on the vile cult of Verath. He told us of a scroll in elvish that spoke of this cult in terms of its eventual crushing - supposedly by my people as they had written the original account that this information was taken from. The cult had apparently flourished some thousand years ago, basing its operations around a central complex somewhat to the north of Wardlow. We took this as indicating the spot upon which we had rested that cursed night some time ago. It spoke of the temple being razed and the ground salted and cursed, marking it as a place to approach cautiously. Unfortunately, for us, any signs of this had long since disappeared over the years and we had unwittingly slept on the very spot.

The scroll also spoke of a smaller complex to the south. Somewhere in a mountain valley near a swamp the cult had established a retreat for study and rest. It was also supposedly a repository for the cult’s lore and had escaped the destruction and breaking up of the cult. Culbane took a map of the region down from a shelf and pointed out the area where he felt we should look, somewhere in the region of Diamond Lake.

I took a few minutes to scribble whatever notes I could from the aged parchment that might help us locate this retreat (I noticed that this particular piece was not written by elvish hands, although it was in the tongue of my people. Perhaps it had been a human child’s copybook practice). It was difficult to read as it had taken some water damage some time in the past and it took me almost half an hour to jot down some salient points to help us in our quest.

Being most glad of this information, we offered to pay Culbane with any books and lore that we might find in the retreat. From the look on his face, I feel we have made a friend for life! He was most happy.

I returned to the inn while my companions wandered off to the ‘Amazing Bean.’

On the approach of the dinner hour, a lad came to my room with a message that dinner was to sit at the sixth hour. I thanked him and, at the appropriate time, went to collect Kiri to escort her downstairs. She appeared wearing an indigo blue dress that she had admired very much. Her flashing violet eyes never fail to take my breath away! I have been truly blessed to experience such a beauty.

We attended the mayor at his house for dinner. At that time, we were introduced to his effusively thankful wife Lyra. She was most effusive in thanking both Narion and Rackhe for saving her beloved husband’s life, and they were most gracious in accepting it. Even Rackhe did not embarrass himself. He can be quite charming when he does not try too hard. (Of course, a little divine help upon my request did not hurt either.)

We were also introduced to Alexander’s three children. Deryn, a strong lad of fourteen carved in his father’s proud image; Lar, a sprightly boy of eleven or twelve, full of the energy that most boys have at that stage of life; and a lovely little girl of ten summers or so, Luna, a most shy girl just a few years shy of approaching puberty. While Rackhe and myself engaged the boys in conversation during Narion’s and Kiri’s chat with Alexander and Lyra, Luna had crept into her father’s lap and snuggled close, the way daughters do when they seek the security of their father’s arms.

It was a very good dinner of fowl, fish, fresh vegetables, oven-warm bread, and good wine. The conversation was light and pleasant as well. After dinner, I decided to see to the welfare of the mayor’s two serving people. I stopped by the kitchen to assist the cook and the houseboy, the same lad who had come to my room earlier, by using a small spark of divine power to clean the platters from dinner. This amazed them both and, as I left, I advised them both to enjoy some well-earned rest for the evening.

As we were leaving, Alexander cautioned us about being careful around the town for the next little while. It appears that there is no love lost between the proud mayor and the wily Hastein and it has invaded local politics. It would seem that Hastein would like to take this town, “a nice place to raise a family” in Alexander’s words, and turn it more to the smuggling of illegal goods. Kiri and Narion both slyly suggested that Master Castle look to some uninvolved party (hinting towards us as that party) to resolve his issue. Kiri actually told him that, “you wouldn’t have to pay much” to have her do it. He declined with a smile and expressed some relief on our behalf when we told him that we were striking out on the trail south within the next few days.

*~*~*~*~*

18th Snowflowers 591

Godsday was different this week from last. I spent most of the day scribing more scrolls. Rackhe brought up his last remaining apple pie that he had purchased to Kiri’s room where she was still closeted writing more arcane spells. It was most appreciated … I know as she invited me to share it with her.

That made the rest of the day a very enjoyable one indeed. (Pie filling is yummy, but oh so sticky!)

*~*~*~*~*

19th Snowflowers 591

Today was the day for Narion to pick up his new short spear. He and Rackhe went about running last minute errands for our trip. It was another day of scribing for Kiri and me, although we did find some time for … I am sure you can gather.

The only other event of note was our visitor after dinner that evening. A pleasant voice appeared at Narion’s shoulder asking if he could join us. We all looked up to see a youngish half-blood elf … wearing black gloves!

“Ana told me to look out after you here at the Swan,” he remarked. This was surely the ‘Black Hand’ she had told us to watch for. He confirmed this was so by asking Narion to recall the last thing that he and Anastriana had spoken of when they were last together. Narion and he then began dancing about each other like two cats, measuring each other up, as our soldier friend debated on trusting this new stranger or not. He eventually did, being the only person who would know what he and Anastriana had talked about last. Apparently, she had told Black Hand this information so that he would not be duped by the wrong party.

He also recognised Rackhe as ‘Blackfoot’, revealing more information and that he knew a fair deal about our party. I excused myself and asked that the Seldarine give me guidance as to whether this man was evil or not. Upon their warm assurance that we were in no danger with him, I returned to the conversation, advising my friends after he had left that he was not dissembling.

He then began to explain what he was doing here. It became apparent that he had been dogging us in town for some time as he had watched Rackhe and Narion rescue Mayor Castle that night.

In his words, he “represented a group of concerned parties” that were looking at dealing with the situation Narion had explained to me on my first meeting with him and Rackhe, that of well-equipped, -supplied, and -organised groups of humans and humanoids participating in brigandage about the region.

His ‘patrons’ were looking for some non-locals for a particular task. He laid out the idea that they were suspicious that there might be some coordinated effort going on behind these bandit gangs. He wanted to engage us in finding proof of such a coordinated effort by investigating to the south of Wardlow, towards the town of Bayport. As this was where Rackhe’s and my quest took us, we agreed to his terms. After all, if unknown parties were going to pay us well for something that we were going to do anyway, why not take the offer?

It was during this lengthy conversation that I noticed something curious. The realization grew on me slowly, keyed by many small things in his manner and speech. He was not of elven blood at all! He was in disguise. It was a good one, definitely in aspiration of the Fey Jester, but I had seen through it. It was apparent from watching my friends that they had not twigged to his duplicity as yet. It made me chuckle. I liked this man more and more. On escorting him out of the taproom, I told him that I knew of his ruse, causing him some embarrassment - most unintentional, of course - and told him that his secret was safe with me. He took it in good spirit and warmly took my hand before he raised the hood on his elf cloak and stole into the night.

Smiling to myself, I returned to my companions who were busy discussing the information and setting plans for our adventure. I am sure that they (Kiri in particular … it seems it hasn’t taken her long to get to know me) were wondering why a self-indulgent smile would cross my face from time to time.

*~*~*~*~*

20th Snowflowers 591

Brewing a potion - a gift for Rackhe - was how I spent my day today. Kiri finished off her scribing into her spellbook and Narion went out to pick up his new equipment. Rackhe ran last minute errands.

That evening, the roguish Black Hand reappeared as if out of nowhere. He had been sitting unobserved in the corner of the common room during Quillana’s performance and we only saw him when he revealed himself by coming over to our table. In looking at him this evening, I noticed that his disguise was much better than before. Even knowing he was not a half-blood elf, I was hard-pressed to convince myself of that fact.

He reinforced the import of our bringing back proof of a conspiracy. He also warned us, in no uncertain terms and quite strongly, to NOT GO ANYWHERE NEAR DULLSTRAND. We were to stay out of the city, as his patrons did not want any undue attention drawn to our investigation. When we were done, we were to return to the White Swan and pass word to Ivorean to contact him.

Upon his leaving I gave Rackhe the potion of Eagle’s Splendour that I had brewed for him, telling him to use it the next time he felt he needed a little help with the ladies. He looked at the vial, then looked at me, then asked, “Am I supposed to get them to drink it or do I drink it myself?”

He is such a humorous fellow!

In turn, my friends surprised me with a fine suit of magical mail, a portion of their spoils from the fight with the mercenaries in the alley.

We were all in good spirits and so it was Kiri and I went off to bed to enjoy the last night of comfort we might have for a while, as Narion and Rackhe went off to the bar to begin settling the final details of our trip.

In short, we were prepared for setting out on the morrow.

*~*~*~*~*

21st Snowflowers 591

This day was just dawning as we set out on the trail south. Narion had locked up our valuables and we left his strongbox and other possession we were leaving behind in Ivoreon’s storeroom. We had purchased a few healing potions and some extra rations as well; myself, I purchased Ivoreon’s last bottle of fey wine, as I knew we would be away for Springrite, which fell during the human festival of Growfest.

And so, we set off in the light drizzle of the day, planning to make for the gnomish village of Birzoon by this evening.

On the trail, Rackhe spotted signs of hippogriff activity in the area, perhaps our friends from our previous journey into Wardlow. He heard something ahead on the trail and went forward to scout it out.

Narion, who was dismounting and preparing his bow as Kiri and I were, had just turned to me to remark that Rackhe “was in the habit of scouting things out by drawing them back to our position for a hail of arrows” when Rackhe came pelting back to us … sure enough, followed by two huge stag beetles. The countryside seemed rife with these creatures!

After my calling upon some divine help for my party, we all began loosing arrows at the beasts approaching with a slow, ungainly gait. When they had closed the distance, taking some damage from a couple of Kiri’s well placed arrows (Gods! She is truly blessed by Solonor Thelandira!), they charged both Narion and myself - knocking us to the ground and trampling over us. As one passed over me, I managed to give it a good solid whack with my sword that only resulted in sending a numbing vibration running up my arm. The carapaces on these beetle was tougher than most armour!

After a fierce battle where we all engaged the stag beetles I found my friends battered but in good spirits. Kiri was a little upset that her killing blow on the last beetle had caused her to be mostly covered in ichors, but she artfully and arcanely tidied herself up. I kept myself from chuckling at her discomfort by seeing to Narion’s and my minor wounds.

The terrain began to get rockier as we continued south, reaching Birzoon that evening as planned, in a light drizzling rain just as the dinner hour was passing. Birzoon was a village of mixed humans and gnomes, built around hilly ground to accommodate both races. A solid earthen berm topped by a stout palisade surrounded a friendly looking mining community made up of mostly-wooden houses and gnomish hill burrows. A circular road ran around the central hilly area, allowing access to anywhere in the village proper.

The gate guard directed us to the local inn, the Gypsy and Friar, by telling us to take the road left from the gate. It turned out the rascal was playing at us as this path took us on an impromptu tour of the village until we reached our destination, a warm-looking structure two buildings away from the gate - on the right! I had forgotten how much fun gnomes could be … but I was not to forget for long.

The Gypsy and Friar had a rustic, warm feeling about it. It was filled with a mixed light crowd of humans and gnomes, one of the latter dancing a fine jig on a tabletop by the fire. The innkeeper, a large man named Fireg, directed us to two rooms and the bathing facilities and, while Kiri and Narion waited for the water to heat for baths, Rackhe and I saw to placing our gear in one of the two rooms. We then returned to the common room for some food and refreshment.

The beer was excellent. It turned out that the priest of Wenta, whose temple we had noticed (much to Kiri’s interest) on our gnome-prompted tour of the village, was a master brewer. Soon we had left the drizzle and strain of the road behind us and were embracing the sense of fun and joy that permeated the common room.

Rackhe was busy watching the door and seemed to be carefully searching the rafters for something - which turned out to be an illusion cast by two small gnomes in the corner.

I went to visit with a group of people, of both races, at a table near the fire. Seating myself between two gnomes I struck up a conversation with them and their friends. They were all happy friendly folk, close to the earth and comfortable in their skin. Indeed, it was a most warm conversation, interrupted only by my two bench mates continually returning my purse, which they would then set about stealing again. As is the custom in my homeland of the Grandwood, I laughed at the joke and bought a round each time I could not catch them at it. In turn, they would buy me a round each time I succeeded in catching them red-handed.

When Kiri and Narion returned from bathing and we all had a brief albeit relaxing evening, we retired early to strike out fresh tomorrow, making overland for Diggers Folly.

I was just turning into the room where Rackhe and I had deposited the equipment when I felt a feminine hand grab my arm, pulling me into the room across the hall. When she had come up to change after bathing, Kiri had divided the packs two to a room, leaving mine with hers. Any surprise I showed at this was quieted by the sudden pressure of two warm lips on mine, my lover’s arms entwining about me even as she kicked the door shut with her foot.

Oh yes, I also ended up buying nine rounds for my two gnomish drinking companions. They bought me one.

*~*~*~*~*

An Encounter with the Foulest Evil

22nd Snowflowers 591

“The best brewery on the Dullstrand coast,” our gnome described the local temple of Wenta to us as we left through the other village gate the next morning. Kiri suddenly let out with a sharp “Eep!” as the rascal somehow managed to pinch her bottom. Of course, I cannot really blame him for this as she does have a nice figure. But then some might call me biased.

Rackhe only had a slightly un-restful night last night, showing no physical signs of the disturbances plaguing us. We soldiered on towards the southwest, only Kiri exhibiting some sign of wanting to stay in Birzoon a little longer. We all agreed that we would return … most definitely around Brewfest. She perked up at that and was back to her light-hearted self in no time.

Around midday, we came upon a pack train of dwarven miners. They were led by Dirgan of the Stoutheart clan. They were most wary of us as meeting strangers on the trail in this region could turn from pleasant to the opposite in the blink of an eye, and the dwerfolk are not known for their tolerance at the best of times. Upon our invitation to lunch (and Kiri’s to some of our ale!), they at least sat with us. Kiri once again worked her magic on the meal and this time she received a superior and warm review from our stout luncheon companions.

In chatting with the miners, we learned that the south of Sunndi is being plagued by bandits and not a few undead creatures. I glanced at Narion but he seemed unmoved by this news. Perhaps he was just being the stoic, perhaps not. Sometimes I find my friend hard to read as he is so guarded with his feelings on his past. I am afraid that the army has affected his spirit by placing too much order upon him. Time will tell, I guess.

We also learned that we would have to cross the lake by boat once we got to Diggers Folly, as the Gold River was difficult to cross. Dirgan assured us that we would have no difficulty hiring a boat in the village for just that purpose. They also mentioned in an offhanded comment that the bandits in the region might be connected with - the vilest scum - slavers. Slavery!!! What a disgusting sin! I only hoped that I could acquit myself well in the Creator’s eyes in any venture against such sordid villains.

The conversation soon degenerated into talk of mining, mining, mining, … beer, beer, beer, … blah, blah, blah. I busied myself with other things.

Parting with the dour dwerfolk, we continued on to Diggers Folly. The only other excitement of the day was a brief encounter with a pair of dire badgers that we had surprised - via Rackhe’s favourite tactic - while digging a den. We overcame the animals easily enough and arrived at Diggers Folly just as the gates were closing for the evening.

Diggers Folly was a small settlement of thatched roof stone buildings gathered beside the shore of a small lake. A few sheep pens fenced in by rock walls lay scattered at convenient places about the outside, accompanied by some few farmsteads. Many docks and wharfs reached out into the lake, holding many lake boats at their moorings. Two of the lake boats were larger versions, bearing a single mast. All were designed for hauling oar across the lake and on downriver.

The gate guards greeted us coolly and explained ‘the rules’ to us. Basically, if we caused trouble, we would be tossed out. We were directed to the common house, populated by rural locals, where we found a boatman, Kale, whom we hired for a fair price to take us across the lake in the morning.

*~*~*~*~*

23rd Snowflowers 591

We crossed Harp Lake early the next morning. Kale entertained us by telling us the story of Lover’s Gate, the gap where the Gold River ran out of the lake and down to the coast. It was a story of a rich merchant’s daughter falling in love with a miner. Her father forbade the coupling and she ran away to be with her love. Upon reaching the cliffs above the lake and almost in the arms of her handsome swain, she lost her footing and fell to her death in the river below. The miner, in grief at watching his love fall from him, threw himself off the ledge after her. Such love! Truly, the Winsome Rose had blessed them with a deep and abiding love for each other. It brought a tear to my eye.

We headed off through the Gap River Valley, hoping to make the village of Hearning two days hence.

That evening about midnight, just as Kiri’s and my watch was ending, I heard something sniffing about a ways out from our camp. I woke the others and we prepared for battle. Kiri despatched her familiar, Nym the Raven, up to scout out the disturbance. The feeling she got back was “something bad.” I called upon the powers of Sehanine Moonbow to reveal the nature of what we faced. She parted the veil of mystery just enough for me to detect six evil presences approaching from just beyond our camp. It was then that I sensed the foul smell of walking death.

As the hellish eaters of the dead came into sight, Rackhe loosed an arrow and dropped one right off. I stepped forward and presented myself to them, shouting for them to return from the hellish pit that had spawned them. Corellon heard my call and I felt a swirl of power around me. Briefly, I was surrounded by a nimbus of bluish-gold light and infused with the supremacy of my faith I evoked the divine power of the Creator. Before this godly manifestation, three of the creatures turned and began to retreat into the night.

After I had channelled the power of the Seldarine, it was no trouble for my companions to defeat the ghouls, a large ghastly one scratching Rackhe to no effect. His strong northland blood was firm indeed to withstand its paralysing touch. They all clapped me heartily on the back for my timely display of divine power, and Kiri seemed a little awe-struck by the occurrence. I am beginning to get the feeling that she is somehow unnerved when I channel Corellon’s power through me.

The remainder of the night passed uneventfully.

*~*~*~*~*

24th Snowflowers 591

Mornings such as today I can do without. We came across the remnants of a burnt-out croft. Only small remains of the people who called this place home were found, including that of a child. Upon inspecting the remains, I saw that they had been gnawed on - and not by animals. I think that this farm had fallen prey to the ghouls we had fought last night.

I prevailed upon my friends to allow me to bury the remains and I said words over the graves. We then continued on, the reality of the harshness of this region etched into the forefront of everybody’s mind.

*~*~*~*~*

25th Snowflowers 591

We reached the farming village of Hearning just before midday. Sheepfolds, farms, and small, organised plots of land surrounded this quiet settlement on the shore of Lake Arn. We decided to stop and see if we could gather any information that related to our quest. The local inn, a place called the Cask and Pick, seemed like the most likely place. We picked up a rumour of some sickness befalling sheep up north and a great evil turning adventurous gem-hunters to stone up near Deepspring Lake, but no information on our search for the cult.

Upon learning of a local wise-woman, I went to visit to see if she could shed some light on our quest. Aside from learning that the sheep-sickness was just a rumour and having a pleasant cup of herbal tea with her, I learned nothing new.

This evening found us at the base of Lake Arn. Narion and Rackhe set themselves to fishing for dinner while Kiri and I set up camp. Rackhe caught eight lake trout and Narion, having caught none (not even getting a nibble), offered to cook and clean them.

Fresh fish for dinner and some left over for breakfast the next day … much better than trail rations.

*~*~*~*~*

26th Snowflowers 591

During his watch, Narion heard a noise. With us all carefully listening, Rackhe was the only one who heard anything. To him it sounded as if a soft clink of metal on metal and sounds of walking had disturbed the quiet of the night. Kiri sent Nym to wing to investigate. I cast an augury to ask the Seldarine if they could help me determine the weal or woe of the situation. I received no reply. Nym gave Kiri the feeling of “a group like you … but bad.”

My companions being the heroes that they are, we decided to track and shadow them.

Rackhe picked up their trail about two hours later, close to dawn. They were a band on foot, about two dozens or so. He then heard a cry from ahead and snuck forward of us to investigate.

In a small draw, he noticed a pair of men, obviously acting as rear guards for a larger group some ways ahead. The main body consisted of a closely huddled group of humanoids being herded along, for that is the only word I could think of to describe their treatment, by a team of mixed orcs and humans. Rackhe and Narion both felt that these were probably a similar band to those that they had previously encountered on their travels.

The bandits were guarding the inner dozen of people. Indeed, we had stumbled upon a group of slavers. Even as I bridled at this, Rackhe and Narion were coming up with a plan. We would advance and attack the rear guard. As Narion, Kiri, and myself did so, Rackhe would split off and make his way around to the van of the bandit group to try and cut them off, putting paid to any escape and preventing needless cruelty to the slaves.

As we advanced, Kiri and Narion to either of my flanks and me up the road (as I know I have no skill at stealth); we came around a bend and launched our attack. We engaged the rear guard with our bows at a range of almost a hundred paces; I taking the first shot. Kiri’s first missile found a mark and she managed to drop one of the men in the rear guard. At this event, the majority of the slavers, under the command of a large half-orc, their leader, turned and began a fight from behind small clumps of rock that lay strewn about the trailside. Two orcs in the van began to hustle the slaves forward out of the danger area, being engaged by Rackhe in the process.

While my northland friend battled the two orcs and two of the flank guards of the slavers, all the while attempting to stop their escape with the slave coffle, we three engaged the rest with bows. The bandits were returning fire as best they could and we continued to decrease the range, picking off their number one by one.

When the last one fell, we raced forward toward where the slave coffle had been dragged. What we found was warm indeed. Rackhe was just putting the final touches of his single-handed defeat of the van and I arrived just in time to see the last slaver, a human, slide from his blade lifeless.

I immediately turned my attention to the poor wretches in their chains. Kiri joined me a moment later with a ring of keys she had found on the half-orc and, as she unchained them, I saw to their health and well-being.

The group of freed slaves was mostly made up of humans, five women and four children (two of each gender). How vile was this heinous act! To place young, innocent children into slavery! It was all I could do to concentrate on the task at hand. The rest of the party was made up of two gnomes and a young elf girl; almost at the age of majority (my guess would be about sixteen or seventeen summers).

One of the freed human women, a strong muscular woman named Ascenda, immediately went and began arming herself with armour and weapons from the dead slavers. In talking with Rackhe and Narion, she informed us that she was no stranger to using this equipment and she would be glad to help see to the safety of some of the freed slaves.

While this was happening, Kiri and I talked with the young elven girl, Drusilalia. She was an elven merchant’s apprentice whose caravan had been attacked and plundered days ago. She and one of the guards were the only survivors of the raid, the guard passing just two nights previously. I commended his name to the Seldarine while I looked to salving Drusilalia’s bruises.

While we administered food and water to the slaves and set about organising the group for the return to their homes, we learned that this group was a smaller team that was heading southeast to meet up with another larger group of slavers under the leadership of one called Gulach or Garlack. This meeting was to take place a day and a half travel northwest of the Brightwood, a place of our people and Drusilalia’s home.

At the mention of this name, Narion’s lips tightened and his face set into a stern look of determination that, to this moment, I had before only seen at times on Rackhe. The two warriors also managed to determine that these slavers were indeed cut of the same cloth as those that they had fought before. It seemed as if our friend Black Hand’s patrons would be interested in this encounter. To this end, we divvied up the spoils, keeping a suit of armour, a javelin, a short sword, and such so that we might have proof of what these bands were up to.

Just past midday, saying goodbye to Ascenda and her human charges that were heading home to the north, as well as Glym and Geppedo, the two gnomes, we set off southeast to take Drusilalia home and (hopefully) deal with the larger band of slavers. We travelled a bit further and set up camp around nightfall.

During his watch, Rackhe noticed strange lights reflected in the clouds of the night sky. Upon waking the rest of us, we determined that it was probably the light of a few campfires and that they were not far off. Once again, Kiri sent her raven familiar to scout out the cause. Nym found several campfires, each surrounded by groups of people. We all felt that we had found our adversaries, the slavers.

Leaving Drusilalia in camp, after ensuring that she was protected as much as we could, we set off to attack the slaver camp. I called upon Shevarash, the Night Hunter, to cloak us in silence so that we would not trip an alarm or alert the guard. Rackhe went forward to scout the camp.

Rackhe told me of his tense time approaching the camp. It appears he spent some minutes in a cat-and-mouse game with figures in the night. Thinking that this was an outlying piquet line for the camp, he made his best efforts to creep about and avoid contact with the dark shadows that moved stealthily through the dark. It was only when he noticed that they too were moving toward the camp and not away from it that he made the effort to contact them. What he came across was a group of elves, bedecked in dark woodsy clothes and armed for battle. Rackhe informed the elves that he was not alone and meant them no harm or ill will, indicating that the rest of us were approaching the camp a little behind him.

The three of us were a little startled when two elven scouts appeared and beckoned us forward to meet with their leaders. In a small hollow in the ground, we met Iveliast, a spellcaster of some power, and Liquathé, a higher-ranking priestess of my order, who I, by her accoutrements, noticed had chosen to uphold the aspects of Corellon as war leader and guardian of the good. Liquathé, the nominal leader of the group, informed us that they were attacking the camp in hopes of rescuing some of their community that had fallen prey to the slavers. We offered our services and they were readily accepted.

Rackhe and the scouts once again went forward to prepare the way for our attack. The slaver camp was set in a small dell lying astride the stream. Groups of slaves were cowering about the three fires on the near side of the stream. Two more fires and two tents lay on the far side of the stream, obviously occupied by the guards and their dastardly leadership.

Rackhe killed the sentry patrolling this side of the camp in one blow of his greatsword that cleaved the man in twain from crown to crotch. Taking the guard’s weapon and shield in hand as a quick disguise, he began pacing back and forth while the rest of us came up and observed the camp. It was decided that Liquathé and Iveliast would lead their party to free the groups of salves while we went and attacked the guards on the far side of the stream. Kiri prevailed upon Iveliast to envelop us in an invisible sphere of power while we advanced slowly across the camp to the far side of the stream. It was upon the action of our springing our attack that the other elves would launch themselves into the fray on this side of the water. I blessed our party and Kiri prepared a sleeping spell for ready use.

It was at this point that we heard a shrill scream, suddenly cut off, from one of the tents. An orc appeared carrying the lifeless body of a woman, moved to the fringe of the camp, and threw the corpse into the darkness.

It was time to fight!

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27th Snowflowers 591

The fight with slavers is included on today’s entry as it actually happened just past the hour of midnight. It is a lengthy tale in which my friends showed themselves to be well worth the title of heroes and in which they also gave me the scare of my life, one that I hope they will never do again!

We managed to creep across the camp to beside the guards’ fire on the other bank. Even the small noise I had made passing a campfire and crossing the stream had not alerted our foes. We felt it was now time to launch ourselves at the enemy.

Kiri launched missiles of arcane power at the largest of the group of guards, a powerful looking half-orc; just as Rackhe and I darted for the tent we had seen the orc carry the dead woman from. As Rackhe dashed forward and Narion darted out to better position himself for the fight, I called upon Rillifane Rallathil to seize the half-orc in his powerful grip. The half-orc immediately stopped, frozen in the act of ordering his troops into battle. Kiri enchanted one of the orcs into a listless sleep and Narion dropped one with a well-placed javelin.

Suddenly it was as if the spirit of the Black Archer had taken hold of us all and the fury of elvenkind was vented upon the hapless slavers. Narion found himself surrounded by more than half a dozen orcs as I tried to make my way towards the half-orc. I stumbled with my first attempt but then the hand of the Coronal of Arvandor guided my sword through the gullet of the bandit, killing him instantly. Rackhe attacked two orcs as they emerged from the tent he was heading towards and Kiri, after enchanting another three or four orcs to sleep, went to aid Narion, spearing one of his foes smartly through the back with her rapier.

Suddenly a loud bellowing echoed across our battlefield, “BRING ME THEIR HEADS!!!” The slaver leader, another large half-orc, had come out of the other tent, followed by a small greasy-haired human in leather armour.

Knowing that my two warrior friends were already heavily engaged, and not wanting our spell casting swashbuckler to be further embroiled in hand-to-hand combat, I turned toward the foul fiend and called out, “Know you that the hand of the Seldarine is upon you and that I, Calamar Eldanil, defy you with the very breath of my life!” And with that, I handily stabbed one of the sleeping orcs to death.

This wanton act of defiance in the face of his power had the exact effect I was looking for. It drew the beast to me and not my friends.

The huge slaver chief charged me. He would probably have crushed me if not for the enchanted shield that my lover had cast upon my person. Indeed, events were to unfold in such a way as to illustrate perfectly her tactic of “protect the cleric to save our lives.”

While the beast beat upon me and I hunkered down, receiving tremendous blows that almost numbed my shield arm into senselessness, Narion had defeated the majority of his foes. Leaving the last one to be despatched by Kiri’s rapier, he rushed to my aid, engaging the leader Garlach in the rear. The oaths that spewed from his mouth were most foul and it was evident that his earlier reaction upon hearing this bandit’s name was indicative of a personal issue between them. I learned later that it was a band of Garalach’s that had attacked and destroyed Narion’s squad.

With a cry of, “I’ll have your heart!” my Sunndian friend launched himself at the half-orc’s back, soundly scoring a hit with his stout spear. “Here’s one to match the other I gave you in the Hestmark Highlands!” Garlach roared in pain and turned to meet this new attack. I tried my best to aid Narion in this fight but proved no more an irritant to the slaver than a gnat on a summer’s day.

Meanwhile, Rackhe had fallen during the fight with the two orcs that had emerged from the tent. He had killed one but the other had laid him out and gone to join another orc that was helping the human wizard that had been with Garlach and who was now in melee with Kiri. Arcane sparks flew about and between them even as she tried to fend off the two brutes attacking her.

I raced over to see to Rackhe’s health, finding him barely breathing, and, infused with divine power, closed his wounds enough so that he might re-enter the fight. He immediately raced to help Kiri, charging the wizard and dropping him.

The cad rose again almost instantly, being himself protected by arcane wards, and cast an enchantment upon my half-blood friend. As I raced over to staunch Narion’s wounds, who had been struck down by Garlach’s blade and may have been at his last breath, I saw Rackhe standing in a daze. Garlach charged over to the fray by his tent, yelling loudly and frothing at the mouth. I stopped Narion’s bleeding and looked up just in time to see Kiri fall under the half-orc’s powerful blow.

My ire rose at the sight of my dearheart one being laid low and, without knowing her to be still alive or now dead, and without thinking - or perhaps guided by the spirit of Hanali Celanil - I charged over to meet these two foul animals in battle. While Rackhe stood by dazedly observing my plight, my blade sang as I tried to best my two foes. The wizard tried a spell, which failed for some reason, probably because he was wearing armour, and Garlach’s blade rang off my armour repeatedly.

A bright blue bolt of lightning flew past me and struck the wizard full in the face, blowing him backwards and through the tent flap, leaving the smell of ozone in its wake. Distracted by this, Garlach turned his maddened eyes slightly towards the sound of our newfound elven friends arriving to my aid from across the stream. Seeing my advantage and calling upon Corellon’s guiding hand, I thrust my slim blade forward and speared the brute through the neck under his chin, punching a full foot of elven steel into his pea-sized brain and killing him.

I then released the hilt of my sword and bent to see to my wounded comrade, who lay bruised and battered, but still breathing (although barely), on the ground. I healed Kiri just as Liquathé and the others arrived, having defeated the other guards and freed their friends and others.

I knelt, somewhat stunned, numbly holding Kiri’s dirt-smudged hand. As Rackhe came out of his stupor and Narion, who had been further seen to by the warband’s healers, approached, my three friends gathered around me to congratulate me on delivering such a fine killing blow. My sword still in Garlach’s throat stood in silent evidence of this. I stood and - with a quaver to my voice and tears welling up in my eyes - admonished them in as severe a tone I could muster for those that I loved and said, “Don’t you three EVER leave me alone like that again!”

Immediately ashamed of my response to their affectionate praise, although I had feared that I had lost both Narion and Kiri to the heavenly glades of Arvandor, I turned and aided Liquathé in seeing to the wounds of the group and needs of the freed slaves. Our work was still not over as the others had to collect evidence of any conspiracy and collect proof of nefarious activity in the region.

During the quiet time after a battle I prayed silently to the Creator to forgive my outburst at my friends, and to thank him once again for allowing three people who I now realised that I cared deeply for into my life. If only I would not fail them again and live up to the virtues that they displayed, I would be the better man for it.

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CONTINUED IN PART 4 - I DISCOVER KIRI'S FAVOURITE TIME OF YEAR