07/10/06

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Duncan's Diary

by Gareth Broom

Picture by Saraquael
www.saraquael.com

Warning this story is based upon a character who has been questing, there may be some sections which give away scenario plots.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12  Part 13      Part 14   Part 15  Part 16   Part 17   Part 18   Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

The old Beast Lord Kailan laid a gnarled and age spotted hand on my shoulder. His piercing green eyes, still bright in spite of his 60 winters, holding mine.

"Duncan, yeeve learnt all ye can, following me around the tundra. The only way ye will learn more and progress is by doing."

"But Kailan" I said, "Where will I go? What shall I do?"

"Laddie"  he growled "Ye have tae make up yer ain mind now. Yer Spirit Warder is wandering out there, somewhere, waiting for you to find him. And if you dinnae put yourself in his path then ye might never meet. Aye, and that would be tragic."

Looking down he rubbed the neck of his great white wolf Shaarn, his spirit warder for longer than I had been alive. For although the wolf may die in combat or of disease the spirit flies to another host and seeks out its soul brother once more.

So with a heavy heart, for my lost companionship with Kailan and Shaarn, I sought out the Shaman of my clan, to get her to roll the bones and start me on  my Spirit Quest.

Much to my surprise the bones indicated that I should seek my spirit brother in the soft lands of the south.

So with a pack full of smoked mammoth meat, I made the long hard trek south to Freeport, largest city on the continent of Antonica.

Imagine how I felt in this massive city of strangers when I walked into a bar and the first person I saw was a Northman. And imagine my shock when the first thing he did was to try and throw me out. Some stupid rule of the management. They seem to think that when Northmen get drunk we invariably fight, causing lots of damage and general mayhem.

Well we fought, wrestled, and boxed each other to a stand still. He was technically a  better fighter than I was but I was the stronger.

 Eventually we could fight no more, exhausted we looked around at the shambles the room had become. The proprietor shouting bloody murder and people peering in through the broken windows.

Strange, I thought, I don’t remember them being broken when I came in. Still strange folk these southerners who knows what weird customs they follow.

"Well we cannae drink in this dump" said my new friend, " lets go somewhere civilised", Thus arm in arm, more to keep both of us upright than from comradeship, we staggered to the gypsy camp outside the gates of Freeport.

And as Northmen will do, we got drunk and told tales of our clans and the blood feuds we were engaged in. Luckily neither of our clans or families were involved in any such feud, so we did not have to try to kill each other.

With the dawn sun tinting the horizon red, to match our eyes, we pledged friendship and agreed to help each other in our respective journeys, where we can.

Later that day, as I was applying a fresh coat of woad to my tribal markings, difficult to do yourself at the best of times. But much more so when there is a dwarf inside your skull, trying to get out and using a battle axe to make an exit. A small fat merchant approached me.

It seems that caravans coming back to the city are being attacked and strangely the bandits do not kill but just knock out the caravaneers and steal the goods.

The merchant moaned about something called insurance payments that have almost made him bankrupt. So he is hiring extra guards to ensure delivery of his next convoy.

Well I certainly need the money, these southerners do not like to barter. Strange that round pieces of metal can get you so many things that you can use or eat. Where as I have yet to find a use for round pieces of metal. They must have a use, because people down here will do anything to get them. Weird!

The upshot of this was that I agreed to help guard this caravan. I tried to find my new friend Brand [ for that was his name]. But the innkeeper would not talk to me. In fact the excitable little fellow called the watch. Can't imagine why.

Still not wanting to kill them and start a blood feud with the Watch Clan, I left the city.

The outward journey was without event. I got to see more of the East and West Common Lands. Always searching with my inner eye for my Spirit Companion.

Well we loaded up the carts and Festonious the Merchant told us that he was waiting for a colleague of his to arrive with another caravan, before risking the journey back.

Well you could have knocked me down with a penguin's feather when, who should be part of the new caravans guard, but Brand.

I am here to tell you that we sunk some beer that night.

He has a strange little fellow in tow now, name of Aerberon. Dresses like a warrior but walks like a girl.

His accent is strange and hard to follow. He seems to delight in using long words and never using one word when a dozen would do. Still, he knows which end of a sword to hold at the least.

Now the next part is hard for me to tell, in fact it sticks in my craw.

The first few days journey back to Freeport were uneventful, but on the third day as we journeyed through a narrow canyon, we were ambushed. Well not ambushed really, just suddenly surrounded

By about twenty Orcs.

Well I can tell you, we were ready for a fight then and I was already singing my death song. When from amongst the Orcs this small insignificant human youth appears. Dressed in ornate leather armour and carrying a rapier, not even a real sword.

His name he told us, with a lisp, was Rodderick, and he demanded we surrender.

Brand strode forth like a hero from the sagas, dressed in scale and carrying a broad sword and demanded single combat.

To my amazement, Rodderick agreed.

Well, I thought to myself, this won't take long. And it didn't. Within a minute Brand was unconscious on the ground.

This Rodderick move like an Eel in a bucket of butter.

I was not going to let some pipsqueak of a southerner make a fool of a Northman and get away with it.

So I attacked.

Waking up, bound, by the side of the trail; was one or the most humiliating experiences of my life to date.

Looking around I could see that the whole party was in a similar state. All the carts were gone but our possessions were piled in the middle of the trail.

It took some time to get free, but by now my blood was boiling. How dare he treat us so.

Did he think that we of so little worth that he could leave us behind, alive! And with our weapons! After treating us so.

Never, while a man of my clan lives. He and all his Orcish scum will suffer.

Cooling down some-what, Brand and I extracted a promise from the merchants that if we brought back this Rodderick in chains they would pay us five hundred gold pieces. They could not, they said, pay us in mammoth tusks. Strange folk these southerners as I may have mentioned before.

On hearing this Aerberon said that since he was equally insulted he should be part of the hunt. Maybe he is not all piss and wind after all.

Tracking the Orcs was no problem, they led us straight to their lair. They made no attempt to cover their trail.

When we first viewed their camp I could scarce credit my eyes. They had made their home in a gigantic tree, I mean huge. Well over a hundred feet high and thirty feet diameter at the base.

High in the branches well over sixty feet from the ground were a series of huts with rope bridges and

ladders joining them.

At the base and to one side was a corral with the oxen from the caravan. All except one, that was roasting on a spit on the opposite side of the tree.

Two Orcs were on guard while a third was turning the spit.

My clan raise no stupid warriors, so we settled down to watch. Try to work out their routine, when they were most vulnerable.

Shortly after noon a party of four looked to be going out on patrol. This was our opportunity to whittle down their numbers a little. 

We set an ambush, out of sight of the tree. Waited for them.

All was ready.

Then, when they were almost in our trap.

Aerberon dropped his sword. Alerting them to their predicament.

We fought and eventually were victorious. Aerberon made up for his earlier error, dispatching a fleeing Orc before he could warn his companions at the tree.

But we were sorely injured, with only a few bandages between us.

"What we need" said Brand, " is a Cleric"

I remembered there was one fellow, preaching at the gates of Freeport.

I could also remember him healing a warrior who turned up at the gate injured.

Maybe we could persuade him to join us. Tell him it's a holy quest or something. He seemed very intense.

For some reason Aerberon was not too keen on my choice. But what other choice was there?

So we limped back to Freeport. And, sure enough, at the gates was the cleric. After healing Brand and myself he tried to heal Aerberon. But some innate magic resistance that Aerberon has made it impossible for the spell to take. This gravely concerned Heulwyn, for such was his name.

But that aside, when we told him what we were about he agreed to accompany us.

So with a day for rest and the buying of provisions we set out once more to get our revenge.

The journey back to the tree was uneventful.

Arriving back at the tree after darkness had fallen, we could here the sound of drunken laughter.

Two guards still patrolled the base of the tree.

We would never have a better chance.

The plan was to creep to the tree, take out the guards and then ascend the tree and deal with the Orcs one or two at a time in the doorway of the hut they were in.

But never try and creep up on an Orc with a city bred warrior in your party. Needless to say he stumbled in the dark, alerting the Orcs.  Who cried out in alarm.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. We charged and a fight ensued.

From above ropes were dropped and Orcs stated climbing down. We were in deep doo doos.

When, unbelievably, Aerberon dropped his sword again.

I will give him this, he did not freeze. He grabbed a burning branch from the fire  and swung it this way and that, almost maniacally.

On one of his swings the burning brand hit one of the ropes.

I could not believe my eyes. The idiots were using tarred ropes. It instantly caught fire, the flame rushing upwards, burning the hands of the Orcs holding on to it. Sending them plummeting to their deaths.

With this example we soon had all the ropes burning and falling Orcs every where.

Those that did not die immediately were soon dispatched.  

Heulwyn healed our wounds. He still could not get a heal spell to work on Aerberon, very peculiar.

He also gave a bit of a sermon, but hey, the curing was worth listening to the words. It won't stop me worshipping The Tribunal.

On searching the tree, we found Rodderick bound and gagged. Apparently they became fed up with his just knocking out the caravaneers and not letting them have any fun. So inadvertently we had saved his life.

It also turns out, after some not so tender questioning from Aerberon [ he can be quite vicious at times] that he is the adopted son of one of the richer merchants in Freeport. They have been stealing the goods, the merchant claimed on the insurance and then got the goods for a token payment to the Orcs plus the goods of the other merchants at a fraction of their cost.

We dragged Rodderick back to Freeport and handed him over to the sergeant of the watch. They were quite pleased and said they would drop the charges on me.

Sounds fun, I am still waiting for these charges to drop on me. Maybe they have to find them first.

I am saving the money I was given, maybe if I get enough of it I will work out what use it is.

I have still not found my spirit brother yet but I live in hopes.

Some one has also been enquiring whether they could hire us to sort out a problem they have, for quite a lot of money. No mammoth tusks though.

Well the merchant's job was a bust. As I explained to him , while hitting him with the soft end of my warhammer, that we Northmen are honorable folk who do not assassinate people for money. Or even mammoth tusks.

Aerberon would not talk to me for the rest of the week, cant understand why. 

About this time rumors started circulating about goblin raids into the East Commons. Apparently this is quite unusual. Enough so, that the Steel Warrior guild have set a bounty on their heads.

Now while I don't kill people for money, a bounty is quite a different matter.

Having rounded up my new companions, we discussed these matters over several jugs of ale. At least Brand and I did. The others cant seem to grasp the fact that momentous decisions should not be taken lightly and should be looked at from all points of view.

If a plan still looks good in the morning, when your head is pounding and your stomach is threatening to leave you via your throat, then it must be a good one.

We decided that Gobbo hunting would be our best bet until we made better connections. So we tooled up and headed for the East Commons.

A day into our journey Aerberon spotted an unusual mound that seemed to be made up of bones and rotting flesh. I was all for leaving it, since it was obviously not a goblin. But no, he had to go poking and prodding at the mound.

Out from it erupted a scabby looking rat as large as a wolf and attacked me, not Aerberon would you believe. We soon dealt with it, but not before it had sunk its teeth into my thigh. And after all that, there was no treasure to be found in the mound after all, sigh!

Heulwyn healed my wound and we carried on. Later, that night as we made camp, I started sweating and shivering at the same time. I felt weak and disoriented. In the morning Heulwyn declared that the rat had infected me. He also said that unfortunately he was not powerful enough to cure this disease but that it was not fatal. We might meet a higher level cleric on our journey that could cure it.

So I must make the best of a bad job and soldier on.

We passed through several villages on the Common, all had heard of the Gobbos but no one had any information on their where-abouts.

Nearing a small Hamlet on the sixth day of our journey, Brand spotted a small raiding party of  goblins, sneaking to-wards the village. Six of them, all looking forward with not a thought to what might be behind them. Perfect!

We crept up behind them, into almost the perfect position for surprising them. When……. SNAP!! Aerberon stepped on a dry branch.

Blast!

Too late, nothing to do now but take them on the old fashioned way. Charge!!!!.

Brand was a whirlwind of steel, slashing and kicking. Aerberons style was unusual, standing behind Brand  and then lunging out to dispatch a goblin. Heulwyn was quiet and efficient with his mace and I did my part. Though with this disease I move slower than usual.

Within minutes all six Gobbos were dead. On examining their war beads, I saw that they were clan Runnyeye. Aerberon then started cutting their heads off.

It took me some time to convince him that although there was a bounty on their heads, we did not have to take the heads with us. Just their war beads as proof of our deeds.

Again after the battle Heulwyn tried and failed to heal Aerberons wounds. This is very peculiar and our cleric is a little concerned.

After resting at the Hamlet, the Inn there would not let me lodge there because I was taken with a bout of shivering, we continued on to the next village. From a distance we could see that something was wrong.

Lots more smoke than normal was rising from the huts, totally the wrong color for cooking or forge fires. Carefully we advanced and as we got closer it was obvious that this village had recently been raided. People were still putting out one of the huts that was on fire. Two others had been completely destroyed.

The people there were very glad to see us. And when we told them we were hunting Gobbos they all started talking at once.

It turns out that they were attacked in the night by a large force of goblins. Some of the villagers had been carried off. They offered us 50gp's, all they could muster, if we could rescue them.

Of course I would have done it for nothing, but before I could get a word out, Aerberon had shaken hands on the deal.

We stayed the night at the village and, freshly provisioned, we set off at dawn. Again, Aerberon complaining about the ungodly hour and lack of sleep.

I don’t understand, can he not see the beauty of the day? To which he answered, "Bah!!"

Some people have no soul. 

Tracking the Gobbos proved no hardship. Unfortunately they were not as lacksidazical as I was led to believe. They had left an ambush party on their trail to discourage people following them. Luckily Brand spotted them in time for us to take some action and not be caught totally flat-footed.

But the battle was hot, viscous and a close run thing.  It ended, after what seemed an age, with twelve  Runnyeye goblins dead and Heulwyn working overtime on the curing.

The countryside started to get hilly and we had to go slower, just in case they had left another ambush party behind. The tracks led into a cave, the entrance of which, on further inspection, proved to have been worked on to enlarge an existing opening.

Brand leading the way, we moved cautiously into the cave. Again, we were ambushed. Murder slots had been cut into the walls and we were peppered with crossbow bolts. It was either retreat or go forward to get out of the killing zone.

So, being Northmen we charged forward, followed by Heulwyn and Aerberon brought up the rear.

Rounding a  corner we ran smack into a group of Gobbos. Mayhem ensued, no tactics, just hit as many as possible in as short a time as possible. We forced them back eventually into a narrow part of the corridor, where they could not mob us.

Heulwyn cured as we fought, until no more came against us. When the battle fury subsided, some fifteen goblins were laid low. Six of them larger and better armed than their companions.

And strangest of all, Aerberon did not drop his sword once, Hurrah!

In the back of the room were a group of goblin females with cubs. I could not find it in my heart to slay them, even though I knew that the cubs would grow up and be as nasty as their sires. Aerberon was against letting them go, but there would be no honor in killing them. Since both Brand and Heulwyn agreed he gave way and we let them go.

Searching the area, we found a suite of rooms. Definitely not goblin construction, much too well made and the dimensions were all wrong. Further searching discovered a secret door. Unfortunately this room was empty, not the treasure room of my short companions dreams. Still, it was a place we could rest while the cleric meditated and regained his spells.

For some reason, his meditation mantra seemed to upset Aerberon, who muttered and fidgeted the whole time. Taking turns to stand guard, the rest of the night proved uneventful.

Rested and with our wounds bound we continued on.  

More searching, and we discover another secret door. Another set of passageways. This complex is much larger than we at first thought.

We had not dealt, as I thought, with all the goblins either. A patrol of them surprised us at a Tee junction. Again it was a mad scramble. And this time, to my shame, I dropped my weapon. Still, having been trained by a Beast Lord, unarmed combat is meat and drink to me. Try to imagine the look on the Gobbos face, when I did not try to retrieve my weapon, but smashed his snout bone into his brain with the heal of my hand. Hah!!.

Short, sharp and bloody. The fight was soon over.

More corridors, this place is huge.

For once, we have a chance to set up an ambush. Aerberon spotted two guards before they spotted us, nice change that. The only thing is, they appear to be human.

Humans consorting with goblins. What kind of low life would do that?

We followed them, at a distance. They led us into a hall, a large symbol had been carved into wall at the far end. This symbol so incensed Heulwyn that he charged the cleric, who was worshipping below it.  And they say Northmen are impulsive.

So much for ambushing them then. Charge!!!

Much tougher than goblins and better equipped. We were, in the end, victorious.

Afterwards Heulwyn explained that the symbol is that of "Zebuxorul" ( never heard of him/her).

Apparently this god is so awful that all other gods are its sworn enemy, even the evil ones.

What the devil are they doing down here? There is more to this than just rampaging goblins.

More searching and we find the villagers, locked in cages. One of their number is missing, but they don’t know how or when she was taken. They slept, and when they awoke she was gone.

We escorted them to the surface and armed them with the blades of our dead foes. We decided to carry on searching the complex for the lost girl while they made their way back to the village.

After quite a while fruitlessly searching the temple, we discovered a secret door in the prison cell area. A strange place to have a secret door, [which is why it took us so long to find it].

This led to a winding, rough-hewn passage, that went down, down, down.

Finally, it opened up into a large dark cavern. In the distance we could see a small fire, with indistinct forms moving about it. With no idea of distance we could not judge how big these creature were. But we knew they were not human.

To our left the sound of metal scraping on rock drew our attention to a massive hound, chained to the wall. I would guess that it was a Gorge hound from the descriptions given to me by my master. It looked in terrible condition and my heart went out to it. A noble free creature, tethered here in the dark depths of the earth.

It looked me strait in the eyes, and I am nearly seven feet tall. It was obviously a guard dog, but something passed between us, and it made no sound.

All the party being in metal armor except me, it fell to me to investigate the creatures by the fire.

This is not really my forte, but I gave it a go.

It became obvious that it was not my forte, when the four Trolls ( for such they were) all swung around at the same time, looking straight at where I was attempting to hide.

Time to go, I thought, and did. Four trolls in hot pursuit can really make you legs move faster than you would ever believe possible.

Looking up I could see my comrades disappearing into the passage way almost as fast as I was moving.

We hared up the tunnel until we came to a narrowing of the way. We knew we could not outrun the trolls, the only chance we had was to stop them permanently.

Brand, Aerberon and I held the narrow way. Only two trolls could come against us at one time.

Two we took down, but with Heulwyn's healing spells exhausted, Brand fell. To all intents and purposes dead. Sorely injured, we conducted a fighting retreat , each taking it in turns to delay the trolls. In this way we made the cell area just ahead of the monsters. With seconds to spare, we managed to close and bar the door. Aerberon was in such a rush that he nearly closed the door on Heulwyn,  but I managed to pull him through the gap. We then legged it to the surface, barring or blocking every doorway that we could.

On reaching the surface, we bandaged our wounds as best we were able and headed for the village.

Back at village we had a shock, Brand was there waiting for us! On closer inspection, it was not he. Even more surprising, it was his brother Olaf; looking for Brand. He was distraught when we gave him the news of his death. But cheered that he died a hero, with his sword in his hand and facing a foe worthy of him.

Also in the village were two more adventurers looking to get the bounty on the Gobbo's. When we told them what we had found they agreed to accompany us. They were Dolan a human cleric [ you can never have too many clerics in a party is what I say] and Alyana a warrior maid, who originally came from this village.

She introduced me to Charin the local priest for the villages in the area. He finally got rid of the fevers that were afflicting me.

The next morning at dawn, despite Aerberon's objections, we headed back to the cave complex.

This time bringing a cart of equipment with us, donated by the village.

In the cell area we trapped one of the trolls and easily dispatched it. 

Entering the cavern, we could see that there were four trolls again around the fire, (in spite of the three we had already killed).

Again we lured them into the passageway. But this time it was we, who were victorious.

Hours of searching failed to locate Brands body or even his equipment, surely indigestible even for a troll. Our search did however discover yet another passageway leading down………………….

Master craftsmen or maybe dwarves have built this tunnel. It is stone flagged and brick arched, and set at a regular downward angle. The only light however comes from our lanterns. The echo of our footsteps indicate that the tunnel is very long.

In the distance we see a bright light. We put out our lanterns but I do not think whoever is down there is unaware of our presence.

As we get nearer we see more temple guards of the unholy god Zebuxoruk.  Olaf charges at once leaving us little choice than to back him up.

Good fighter these, but never stand between a Northman and his revenge, especially if family is involved. We find ourselves in a guardroom opposite is a large iron banded door.

Through the door we can hear chanting.  The sounds of which make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It is the matter of seconds to batter down the door, iron banded or no.

Inside, yet more temple guards and behind them a tall, cadaverous figure in black robes [ why do they always wear black?]

His hand is over the chest of a naked man strapped to a table.  Smoke seems to be floating from the body up to the hand.  As he chants, the smoke leaves his other hand, four skeletons are animated and stand up.

Four guards, four skeletons and a necromancer.  Six of us.  Almost a fair contest.  Charge!!

We split left and right, trying to get at the spell caster.

The guards however do not play ball and block our attacks.

The necromancer slips out of the door at the back, leaving his minions to delay us.

But not for long.  Heulwyn turns all four skeletons and the guards are week southerners, Ah! No contest.

Well slap me with a wet herring.  The naked man on the table turns out to be Brand.  Week, tortured, with most of his life essence drawn out of him.  But Brand never the less.

Heulwyn goes to work big time, as does Dolan the other cleric.  Prayers and spells continue until both are week with fatigue.

Eventually Brands skin takes on an almost healthy color. 

We help him dress.  For some reason Aerberon will not face Brand while he dresses.  In fact he goes bright red and starts muttering to himself while watching the wall.

Mmm! I wonder if he is one of these southerners who have different urges.  Still, each to their own.

It takes some fast-talking to convince brand that we did not desert him in his hour of need and that we had thought him slain.  We finally got through to him.  Outfitted the best we were able, none of the armor would fit Brands frame, we continued on.

Through the door the necromancer left by we find a corridor.  We spend an hour walking along it and get nowhere. It seems to go on and on and on.

So its back to the guardroom

What is it with these people and secret doors?  They must have had a competition when they built this place on who could hide the most doors in the most obscure places.  I mean, what is the point?

Finally, we find it.

And yes, you've guessed it, it goes down.

But this time the designers have opted for stairs. [Probably found a different way to hide doors or wanted to give themselves a challenge. 

A short while later the stairs level off into a corridor.  Trapped of course. At the end more arrow slits.

Brand and Olaf take a couple of quarrels and then from above a column of fire incinerates Olaf.

He drops in a blackened heap.  Brand goes berserk.  Charging the arrow slits and ramming his sword through the gaps.

As my master Kailan says " When spell casters are aboot, the best place tae be is reet next tae them. Dinnae give the spallpeens time tae cast, but ram yaer claws into their gizzards".

The buggers were in alcoves above and behind the doorway to the stairs.

Embracing the spirit of the tiger, I leaped to the ledge on my right.  At the same time Aerberon was climbing to the ledge on the left.

Confronting me is a priest of the Unholy One.  Armed with a vicious looking mace.  I stayed close and personal.  Giving him no chance to utter a spell.  I took my whacks and he took my dirk in his throat.

Have you noticed how hard it is to cast a spell with a foot of steel in your windpipe? He noticed all right.

The fight below was not going well.  There was no apparent way to get at the archers. [Another bloody secret door I expect].  But the ledge I was on led to a suite of rooms.  Calling to the others to follow, I went further into them.

These turned out to be part barracks, part planning rooms.  With maps and ledgers and more guards.

I held these off until the others joined me.  Then we made short work of them.

By this time the clerics were completely out of spells and we were pretty well knackered.

We decided to fort up and rest.

Brand and I sang Olaf's death song.  There was not much left of him.  So we put him in one of the beds in the barracks with his sword on his breast.  And piled the straw mattresses of the other guards over him. We plan on torching it when we leave.

Olaf's armor however was appropriated by Brand.

While resting, we could hear noises in the distance.  They were obviously preparing a surprise for us.

After a while it goes eerily quiet.

Rested and healed we prepared to face our enemy once more.  I am now carrying the mace I took off the cleric.  It is of Masterwork construction and beautifully balanced.

Aerberon has gained a pair of metal bracers from somewhere.  He tries to hide them by pulling his sleeves over them.  We pretend not to notice.  It makes him happy.

We search the area for over an hour.  Well would you believe it, the cowardly buggers have flown the coup.  And what is worse, have taken all their treasure with them.  Damn!!!

Following a blood trail, we find yet another secret door.  This one does not go down, Hallelujah!

It leads instead to a large vaulted hall.  At the end of which are two armored skeletons and more guards. These however were much better trained than the others we fought.

The fight goes badly for us until Heulwyn manages to turn the skeletons.  After that we mopped them up.

The room they were guarding was a map room.  In one corner is a lava pool.  In which is chained a Fire Elemental.  With no way to safely free the beast we decide to leave it alone.  Aerberon however does throw it the bodies of the guards we killed.  Some strange southern custom, maybe?

This room has been hastily cleared as well. The guards were left to delay us.

We do find some interesting papers though.

Reading the document we found, it soon becomes apparent that an invasion of Freeport is planned.

This information must get back to the proper authorities.  To this end I put them safely in my backpack, determining to give them over to the militia at the first opportunity.

Aerberon offers to carry them but they are safe enough with me.

Another long search fails to find any more secret doors or treasure or anything.  I think we missed the boat on this one.  Still you cannot win them all.

We leave.  Burning Olaf, freeing the gorge hound, and loading up what little treasure we found on the cart.

Back at the village we divvy out the treasure and Alyna and Dolan leave us for pastures new.

Heading back to Freeport, Aerberon tries to push the pace.  Even when I tell him that the ox, pulling our cart needs at least four hours of grazing each day to stay healthy.  He then has the cheek to complain when the ox starts farting, because it has not digested its food properly.

We finally make our way back to Freeport.  The first thing I do, is to hand over the plans and documents dealing with the putative invasion to the militia.

This seems to upset Aerberon, can't understand why.

Then its off to the gypsy camp for some rest and recreation.  They have acquired a barrel of Dwarven ale that definitely needs looking into.  And Megan one of the dancers has been smiling at me a lot lately.  This also needs looking into, as her father runs the beer tent.

At last, some time to myself, time to relax.

Megan helped me arrange a party at the Gypsy camp. And with singers, players, dancers, gleemen and the Dwarven Ale we were having a whale of a time.

About nine bells of the evening watch, Brand arrived at the camp.

He tried to tell me about a job that Aerberon had arranged for us. But what with the noise, the Dwarven Ale and Rhiannon whisking him into the circle for a wild highland dance, well one thing led to another and then another and after that several more. Well after that we could not remember why he had come to the camp in the first place, and  lets face it, at that point we did not care anyway.  So nothing got sorted.

Waking up the next day, at least I hoped it was only the next day, was a bit of a chore, and quite painful. What do dwarves put in their ale that can leave such a taste in your mouth. A cross between mammoth droppings and Orc armpit hair. Not that I have ever tasted either you understand, it's just what I imagine they would taste like.

We staggered into the Grog and  Grub to meet Aerberon. He was there but in one of his moods.

He expected us last night apparently. He is always in a rush that one. If he rushes much more he will meet himself on the way back, as my old mam used to say.

The job, Aerberon told us, was to investigate the old monolith in the Market Square.

" Simple," I told him, "it is of black stone, about sixty feet high and twenty feet in diameter at the base. With lots of funny rune carvings on it that no one can read. "

He was not amused.

"We were," he said, " to be given 75 gold pieces each, to investigate the base of the tower that emerges in the sewers.

We were not to bring Heulwyn because there was not enough money to go around.

Fair enough I thought, though I much prefer to adventure with a cleric in the party, What could possibly go wrong in the sewers of a city.

Aerberon led us to a secret entrance to the underground system. Inside was a stone book on a pedestal,

Exactly like the one outside Halas City. Strange that.

Splashing through the noisome effluent of the tunnel, we were set upon by two zombies. They hit really hard and I started to wish that I had ignored Aerberon and asked Heulwyn to come with us.

We killed them [or is that re-killed them]. Brand and Aerberon were removing their heads, just to make sure, when two more attacked us.

The next thing I know, I am waking up in Heulwyn's house. Brand had brought me.

Apparently the fight was hard and all of us barely survived. My companions were, however,  victorious. But not before the zombies had taken me down.

Aerberon told Brand that he would get curing from another cleric he knew, not wishing to impose on Heulwyn too much.

Heulwyn was most put out, when we told him that we had gone adventuring without him.

Well I can tell you now, that I am not going on any more excursions without a cleric in attendance. The ignominy of being carried through the streets like a sack of potatoes is hardly bearable. How I shall be able to show my face outside, I do not know.

Later that day we received a note from Aerberon to meet him in the tavern in the Market Square at dusk.

So precisely on time we trooped into The Hogcallers Inn.

Aerberon's face was a sight to behold when he saw that we had brought Heulwyn with us.

But he did not object. It would not have done him any good if he had, anyway.

We sat down for a meal. Joy of joys, they have mammoth steaks. Wonderful!

I then tried to explain to the cook how we wanted them served.

Well the only way to serve them is, to put them between two slices of bread with fried onions, gherkin and lettuce. The only thing I could not reproduce was the secret relish that the clan McDonald produces in Halas.

Still, it was a taste of home.

The innkeeper even produced whiskey. Boy was it strong. But since we were going to be working later on I rationed myself to just the one glass.

Then Aerberon got unusually generous, or maybe we are having a good effect on him, and bought another round of drinks. Since it would be an insult not to have drunk with him, I did.

And blow me down, he bought another round of drinks.

I could not let this pass, my honor demanded that I also by a round of drinks. Then Brand bought a round, and after that it gets a bit hazy.

The upshot of it all was that I awoke in a strange bed, with the sun streaming through the window, and was violently sick. Unfortunately, Brand was sleeping on the floor beside the bed and got the lot.

He did not however, wake up. Thank the gods. So I made myself scarce.

We were still in the Hogcallers, Aerberon had paid for our rooms and even helped carry us up to bed.

Strange, he matched us drink for drink. He must be tougher than I thought.

I was late for breakfast. Heulwyn and Aerberon had already finished theirs. I settled down to a bowl of porridge, though it was hard to get down and keep down.

We were all suitably disgusted with the state of Brand when he finally appeared.

When we got down to cases, Aerberon came up with some more information and an extra 25 gold pieces each.

The monolith, he told us, was constructed in the distant past by the dark elves. A group who called themselves The Brotherhood of the Four Winds. Legend has it, that if the wind is from the north and the light of a full moon shines on the stone, a doorway will appear in the pillar.

Well to-morrow is a full moon and the wind this time of year mainly comes from the north. So we will check it out then.

He had also found out that the dock area was being made untenable at night by giant rats. And that the Steel Warrior guild had put a 5 gold piece bounty on each head brought in.

So in a bid to increase our funds and to pass the time we agreed to go hunting them to night.

I looked around the area in the daylight, and spotted several places that would be good to investigate later on. There are many disused buildings in this area. Many with fallen in cellars and it was one of these that I settled on as the best place to wait and possibly ambush these giant rats.

The spot proved to be perfect. Within minutes of darkness falling a giant rat wandered past. It was scabby and smelled to high heaven. But with the four of us striking in unison [ for a change] it died very quickly and no one was hurt [ an even nicer change].

Tracking it back  to its lair was no problem. The debris from the caved in cellar had breached the wall of the sewer system. Aerberon, being the smallest of us, crawled through the hole. Only to meet another rat coming the other way.

There was only one way to save him. I grabbed one leg, Brand grabbed the other. [Make a wish I thought to myself, for some unaccountable reason]. We heaved him out of the hole while Heulwyn beat on the rat as it emerged. Brand killed another with one mighty blow as it tried to bite Aerberon in the buttocks.

Three more emerged and were dispatched with little trouble. After a while, with no more rats to be seen, we entered their nest and searched it, but found nothing of value.

We handed in the heads, received our bounty and headed off to bed.

The next evening we met as agreed at the Hogcallers Inn. But this time we ate and just drank small beer.

As the moon rose, we searched the monolith. You would not believe how hard it was to find the door.

 But eventually Brand spotted it. Prising it open we found ourselves in a tubular room, the walls of which were deep etched, with similar runes to those on the outside. Looking up we saw that the ceiling had been painted to represent the night sky.

Searching, Aerberon noticed that the runes in one particular area were more deeply etched than in others. So much so, that they formed a sort of ladder. Climbing, he found a trap door in the ceiling.

Without waiting for us, he threw open the hatch and climbed into the room. At once he started shouting and cursing. We climbed as fast as we were able and on entering the room saw Aerberon embattled with a monster. And such a monster. It was an eye about three feet in diameter from which hung several tentacles. Two of these were wrapped around his neck and pulsing rhythmically.

We struck at once. Where its tentacle landed it was if your skin was burning and going numb at the same time. We had to finish it quickly or we would all be paralyzed.

I managed to get in a telling blow and squished its eye. It flopped limply to the floor, leaking a clear fluid that smoldered and etched the stones where it landed.

With life gradually returning to our limbs, we searched the room. We found hundreds of scrolls that covered the last six months. A type of diary. A quick glance at them showed that they enumerated the comings and goings in the market and at the gate. Certain passages even listed what some people were thinking at the time!

I said " These must go to the Watch" . This instigated a fierce argument. Brand wanted to give the to the Steel Warriors, Heulwyn wanted them to go to his church and Aerberon wanted them to go to his employer [ whoever he is].

With no consensus, we agreed to search the rest of the monolith before coming to some sort of decision on their disposition.

We found nothing more at this level.

Descending to the floor below, a search discovered a hatch in the floor. A spiral stone staircase led to a corridor. At the end of which was a door. We were halfway down the corridor when the door opened. Out of it stepped a dark elf. Its movements were strange and jerky. But the spell it cast was not. It struck Brand, staggering him. We, of course, charged!!

Stepping out from behind the Wizard, came a human beastlord with a wolf warder. The wolf counter charged me, would you believe.

Before Brand could get to the Wizard an armored, female dark elf. cleric interposed herself; not a good move. He slammed her backwards and caved in her skull with his mace.

The wolf fared no better, as it leaped I embraced the spirit of the Rhino and shattered it's ribcage with my mace.

Aerberon and the beastlord were going at it hammer and tongs. Heulwyn was casting at the wizard and keeping him busy.

Well, you can guess what happened next. Two northmen into one wizard, just  does not go. Neither did the wizard when we finished with him. It was a bit of a mess and those bloodstains would never come out of those robes. Just as well I don’t wear robes.

Finally Aerberon stopped toying with the beastlord and dispatched him.

It turned out that the clerics mace was a Combine weapon and  magical. We diced for ownership, I won. It is light and moves through the air with a liquid grace. It has wickedly hooked flanges for maximum damage and runes on the shaft that sparkle when the mace is being swung. I think I shall name it, but an appropriate name has not come to me yet. I will think on this, mmm! 

Through the door is another corridor ending in yet another door. To either side of the corridor are three alcoves. In each is a mural showing Freeport in various stages of destruction. There are some sick people in the world and some of them are artists.

Aerberon opened the door. We were immediately assaulted by gale-force winds. It blew Heulwyn off his feet and me to my knees. Brand ducked into one of the alcoves and Aerberon only remained standing by hanging onto the door. Marching towards us were eight skeletons, totally unaffected by the winds.

Aerberon just managed to get the door shut before they could cross the threshold. This gave us time to pair up and get into the alcoves. Heulwyn and myself in one and the others in the alcove opposite us.

When the door opened we were relatively unaffected by the force of the winds.

The Cleric presented his holy symbol to the Skells, forcing four of them to turn away in fear. The others came on like automata. We treated them like so much kindling. Bone chips abounded.

The other four eventually came our way, and left it the same way as their compadre's.

We struggled into the next room and searched for ways of turning off the Wind. We were not successful.

There was door in this room also. Aeberon opened it and immediately wished he had not.

Behind it was what can only be described as a dwarf minotaur, standing about six feet high and three feet across the shoulders. Behind the mino was a black hearted necromancer.

The Minotaur struck Aerberon with his axe and he went flying. Driven by the winds down to the far end of the corridor. The Necro enspelled me and I was blown over as well.

Brand tried to intervene but was also knocked down.

Neither the necromancer nor the minotaur seemed to be affected in any way by the winds. This stinks I thought to myself.

The necro teleported to Aerberons side and started casting on him. Brand went to his aid. I went up against the Minotaur with Heulwyn's help.

I did not see any of Brands fight but was told that Aerberon could not keep hold of his weapon for more than a few seconds.

The minotaur knocked me unconscious and charged Aerberon. From what I have been told they had just dispatched the necro when the bull man turned up. It nearly killed Aerberon before Brand and Heulwyn could kill it.

We both came to, after Heulwyn had cured us, in one of the alcoves.

Here we must rest until spells are recovered and our wounds are healed………………………

After three hours of trying ,Heulwyn finally managed to heal Aerberon. He is still puzzled by this as he has no problem healing either myself or Brand.

Still on with the motley as my gypsy friends say.

We still have to battle against the fierce winds to progress. Eventually we reach the side corridor and the wind ceases. What a relief that is.

This leads us to a dinning room area. A long table is at the centre. Only four chairs however are around it. This looks good as we have slain four Spellcasters. This is presuming that the minotaur did not sit down to eat with the others.

Ahead is a large steel door, with runes above it. This is translated by Aerberon, somewhat stutteringly, as  saying Ministry of Winds. He also produces a key, that he says he found on the necromancer's body, and hands it to Brand.

This fits the door. Brand turns the key and……….. Wham!!; he is sent flying as a spark arcs down from the symbols above the door.

But the door is open and the trap is sprung.

WRONG!!!!!!!!

I walk into the room and…………………………Wham!!! I am sent flying as a spark arcs down from the symbols above the door.

Bugger!! Ouch!! Damn!!……………………………………………………………..expletives deleted to avoid prosecution.

"Ah!"  says Aerberon, looking into the room " At last"

Looking further in, I can see what has got him so excited. A large pile of gold, silver and copper coins glint provocatively on the floor.  The sparkle of an occasional gem also gleams from the pile. But how do we get to it?

Finally we come up with the idea of splitting the table, to allow it to pass through the doorway and crawling under it. Hopefully the tabletop will act as a shield.

Amazing!. This works.

Sorting through the coins we come up with a total of  one hundred and forty two platinum pieces worth, each. Plus what we will get for the gems etc. Not bad I think to myself.

We then drag all this up to the ground floor exit room.

A thorough search of the area only discovers four bedrooms and a corridor that has been collapsed recently.

With nothing more to find, the discussion then came back to the disposition of the scrolls we found earlier. We get no consensus so we decide to split the scrolls into four piles and dice for which pile we get. These  we can then deliver  to our choice of whichever agency we want.

After this is sorted, we borrow a cart from the market and push our loot through the darkened streets to Heulwyns house.

I then take my set of scrolls to the Militia HQ. They are quite pleased and say that if they ever need my type of work done, I will be the first they consider. Nice one, I am starting to make connections at last.

Then it's off to the Gypsy camp. To the arms of Megan and a quart of Dwarven Ale. Lush!!

The next day, Brand turns up. He is very angry. Apparently, after he and Aerberon left, last night, they went to The Bunker, HQ of the Steel Warrior guild.

There were no officials on duty, so they stored their scrolls in their lockers.

This morning, when they got up, they found that The Bunker had been broken into and their lockers, amongst others,  looted. A guard had been killed.  The Steel Warrior hierarchy are not at all pleased with them, apparently.

For some reason they hold Aerberon to be more at fault than Brand. I cannot think why.

With my new one wealth, I buy some better armor and of course arrange for a party. Yeeeehaaaaaa!!!.

Megan's father comes up trumps again. He has found some Elven wine, and a Bard friend of his agrees to perform for us this evening.

I sent an invite to Aerberon and Heulwyn with Brand.

Aerberon is not in a happy mood when he turns up.

The guild master had given him a right rollicking, he said.

"Stuff Him" I said, passing him a pint of wine.

He then goes all sniffy, muttering something about uncouth Barbarians, and how they serve a vintage wine.

"Well" I told him, "that’s where your wrong. We are not Barbarians, we are Northmen. And it's not Vintage wine it's Elven wine, so there."

To which he answered nothing, just stumped off. I notice he took his jack of wine with him though.

Brand and I find out that it's not true what they say about Elven wine.

It does give you a hangover, but it does not leave that horrid taste in your mouth that Dwarven ale does.

Brand also managed not to chuck all over himself this time, either.

The next few days I spend with Jorham, a senior Beastlord, who sometimes visits the Gypsy camp.

He teaches me the finer arts of tracking.

On our return, Brand seeks me out. He has found us a job.

The Steel Warriors annual caravan of fine steel weapons from their forge in Queynos was ambushed by Orcs in the Eastern Common Lands.

They have offered a thousand gold pieces for its safe return or fifty for knowledge of which group of Orcs has it.

Time to put my new tracking skill to the test, I think.

To my surprise, Brand has organized everything.

The next day the four of us and our ox drawn cart, set out for Nearfield, a village in the East Commons. 

A journey of some five days. The first two of which are uneventful.

On the third day however, as we were starting to climb into the low hills at the centre of the Commons, Brand was attacked by a large male lion.

It took a nasty chunk out of his side, despite his new True-silver armor.

With our help however, he soon dispatched it, wound or no wound.

That night, as I stood watch, a sickening stench pervaded our camp site. Lurching out of the darkness came two zombies. Shouting to wake the others I attacked.

My new mace, and a few new tricks Jorham taught me, made short work of one of them.

The others, sans clothes, ( not a pretty sight) killed the other in short order.

Mid-morning saw us well on our way. Brand led followed by Aerberon and Heulwyn. I brought up the rear with the ox cart.

As we came down out of the hills I spotted a strange figure on the track ahead. It was stooping over two recumbent forms. I stopped and called out to Brand.

He looked, drew his morning star and started running forward, closely followed by Aerberon and Heulwyn. So much for a any subtle planning.

Still they are all wearing half plate armor and are not the fastest moose in the herd. I tied up Roger [the ox] and sprinted after them. Just short of the figure, that was just looking up from feeding on its kill, I passed them.

On seeing the figure clearly for the first time, I started wishing I had not been so hasty. It was a Manwolf (or werewolf as the southerners say). A 'bleddy abomination of nature' as my master would have it.

It leaped at me. I swung at it with my mace as hard as I could. And barely scratched it! Thus began the hardest battle I have fought to date.

With Brand, Aerberon and I surrounding it and Heulwyn casting heal spells as fast as he could utter them, we fought long and hard.

In the end we won, but could go no farther.

It took Heulwyn the rest of the day to cleanse our wounds before any healing he could give us would close them.

The bodies were of two Freeport Militia men. Part of some patrol maybe. But we were too weak to go searching for any of their companions.

We carried on the next day and, as night fell, we came upon a guard post of the Freeport Militia. The bodies we had found was that of their relief.

We stayed with them that night and in the morning set off feeling much stronger, for a long nights sleep without the need wake and stand guard.

Mid-afternoon saw us arriving in Nearfield. A small village. Surprisingly no stockade surrounded it. There we met with a Halfling Ranger who was making the run from Rivervale to Freeport. He reported that he had seen a group of Orcs near Plague-town  This the villagers told us was a ghost town, four days journey to the north west.

We rested at Nearfield for two days while Heulwyn studied at the shrine of Errolis Mar there.  The priest in charge of the shrine was a famous adventurer in the past, though I have never heard of him. He was teaching Heulwyn some new spells, for the small sum of one hundred gold pieces each!. 

Onwards.

A day short of Plague-town, as we slept, four Orc Pawns [their youngest warriors, out seeking their first kill ] successfully penetrated our camp, as Brand stood watch.

Lucky for us they were not experienced warriors or I would not be alive to pen these notes. Their first blows were hurried, and their last.

Aerberon was livid, accusing Brand of sleeping on watch.

In my opinion they were just good at sneaking. I told Aerberon that he would probably not have seen them, himself. But he would not have it. Eventually I calmed him down and we went back to sleep.

The Orc town, when we saw it, was quite well defended.  Fifteen huts, a long house and barn were surrounded by a ditch and wooden stockade. We left the cart about three miles back, and bivvied up overlooking the settlement, so we could scope it out. What we saw was not encouraging. Including females and cubs there were about sixty Orcs in the area. So we could count on at least twenty full Orc warriors with a chieftain and maybe a shaman [or Oracle as I believe they are called in the south].

Too many for just the four of us. But since Brand organized this show it was up to him. Doh!!

He wanted to try and whittle them down, a bit at a time.

Not good, I thought. Ah well, who wants to live forever anyway?

Still I would have liked to have met my soul brother.

The plan, such as it was, is to arrow the two guards and lead them off at a run. Obviously, help will be sent from the settlement, but if we run long enough maybe we can spread them out. Then turn and cut them down at more even odds.

It started badly, both Brand and Aerberon missed their targets. How can you miss a guard, standing still at fifty feet?. They of course shouted for help. Within seconds, six more Orcs were giving chase.

The two lead guards were cut down easily enough, but we had not accounted for the fact that the lightly armored Orcs would run faster than our more heavily armored warriors. We did string them out slightly, but they overtook us far short of our intended mark. Still there were only six of them, and in the end we were triumphant.

No more Orcs were sent after us, so hiding our tracks we made camp well away from the Orc town.

But now we have to think of a better plan to deal with the rest…………

I selected our camp that night with some care.  Choosing a hollow, surrounded with large boulders. This would be ideal to keep us out of sight, especially of the Orcs heat vision at night. [A little trick my master taught me, when tracking Icy Orcs on the Tundra].

I searched the area outside the boulders for any inimical wildlife and looked back at the camp from various angles to make sure we were not visible. It looked perfect.

Being so close to the enemy and guessing that they would be out looking for us, we decided to pair up for the watches. Aerberon and I, Then Brand and Heulwyn.

On our watch, as I was patrolling the perimeter, I heard a strange creaking noise. Beckoning Aerberon forward, I crept towards the noise. One of the boulders was moving…….very fast towards me.

Boulders don’t have legs, I remember thinking and then I was fighting for my life.

It was a large Dun colored beetle, with a vicious set of mandibles. It stood nearly five feet high and was very quick. It took all four of us to bring it down. And we had many a painful gash to sow up and heal to show for it. Luckily we have brought plenty of bandages with us.

I had quite a lot of stick from Aerberon over my choice of campsite, for the rest of our watch.

Later, we settle down to sleep, with Brand and Heulwyn on watch. But, no sleep for the wicked. We are rudely awakened by the sound of battle.

Grabbing my buckler and mace. Wearing only my kilt [it being almost impossible to sleep in studded leather armor] I leaped into the fray. Heulwyn had two Orc warriors attacking him and Brand three.

Arrows were flying at us from the darkness but I could not spot the archers.

The words of my master echoed through my mind as I quickly surveyed the scene. "In a group laddy, always protect yer cleric. He is,  at times, all that stands between ye and the long, dark walk."

So I went to Heulwyn's aid. He was taking a battering. The first Orc I dispatched quickly enough. The other, was as slippery as a herring covered in rendered blubber. He insisted on attacking the cleric while avoiding my blows. Aerberon came to assist, but he was having as little luck as I in pinning him down.

Eventually he got a telling blow in on Heulwyn and he dropped lifeless to the ground. This gave us our opening. Both Aerberon and I hit at the same time. My blow smashing in his skull and Aerberon's cleaving his backbone in two.

All the Orcs in the camp were dead, but arrows continued to pepper us from the darkness. Brand and Aerberon went hunting these annoying archers while I tended Heulwyn. He was very near death.

Soaking a bandage in a healing potion, I bound the worst of his wounds and tried to protect him from the arrows with my body.

What was taking them so long I wondered. Looking around, I spotted one of the archers. Pointing this out to Brand, he charged. Soon the arrows stopped flying and I could light a lantern to get a better look at Heulwyn's wounds. It did not look good. Again soaking some thread in a healing potion, I sowed his wounds together, and re-bandaged them. I stayed by his side the rest of the night, refusing Aerberon's kind offer to watch him for a while so that I could get some sleep.

In the morning he was barely conscious, but awake enough I hoped, that he could drink a potion without fear of it drowning him. Once I got the potion into him he improved rapidly. So much so that within an hour he could call on his own healing spells to complete his recovery.

We then sat around our breakfast fire and discussed our options. We felt confident that we had weakened the Orcs defenses enough to chance another attack. Heulwyn was concerned for the safety of the Orc females and cubs. Aerberon's stated position was that they were all low lives and should be exterminated. Brand and I were of the opinion that it would not be honorable to attack them if they did not attack us first. After a heated discussion, in which Heulwyn refused to go any farther with us if his wishes were not adhered to, Aerberon gave his word not to attack females and cubs.

With that sorted out, we set off once more for the Orc village.

We proceeded slowly and carefully. Fairly sure that they would have some surprises for us. Looking down on the town, we could see that they had dragged thorn bushes against the walls and gates as added protection. Indeed they had lined their street with these bushes as well.

On a closer check of the intervening terrain I spotted two Orcs trying vainly to hide. Pointing this out to the others we decided to ambush them, as they obviously hoped to ambush us. Sneaking to-wards them, to my embarrassment, I stumbled in a gopher hole. This they heard [they probably heard it back in Nearfield].  With surprise out the window there was nothing for it but to charge them.

Putting thoughts into deeds, I raced forward. Screaming maniacally to try and intimidate them.

I had made a cardinal mistake. I had underestimated our enemy, they had deliberately shown themselves. It was a trap. Arrows lashed at us from the sides and Brand shouted that there were Orcs behind us as well. And to top it all the second of the two Orcs I was charging was a Shaman? Oracle? whatever.

I barreled into the first Orc, slamming him back and braining him with my mace. Aerberon, to my surprise, had charged the spell caster and with two blows cut him down. Looking back, Brand was holding off three Orcs, while Heulwyn rained magical fire on them.

With those holding their own, Aerberon and I went after the archers. These turned out to be Orc Pawns and were dealt with in short order.

Getting back to the fight, Brand was just finishing off the last Orc warrior. Yay!!!

It was at this time that I had my vision. Two large, feral, glowing yellow eyes were staring at me, from the depths of the undergrowth. Moving towards them, they winked out. A careful search of the area revealed no tracks. Spooky!.

Moving toward the village we could see many tracks.

It looks like the non-combatants had left the previous night. Several traps were left behind, but we dealt with them one way or another.

We cautiously made our way to the large tent in the centre of town. Looking in through the open flaps at the front we could see the remains of the arms and armor were stacked on a large low table.

This must be a trap. But we are not falling for it.

With our rope and grapnels we snagged the table from the entrance, and start dragging it to the doorway.

It was trapped. Unfortunately, it was a magical trap. A blast of super-cold air washed over us. Chilling and burning at the same time.  We were all staggered and hurt, but alive. If only barely.

With Heulwyn's aid we recovered quickly. I went back for our cart. The others searched the village for any valuables. We stacked the arms and armor onto the cart and torched the town.

That night, around the campfire we discussed what to do next. To go on to Befallen, to take the goods back to Freeport or what. In the end we came up with a compromise. We would take the arms to Nearfield. Store them there, and go from there to Befallen.

So, with that agreed, I settled down to sleep.

Strange dreams I had. I was a wolf running across the plains, being drawn ever onwards to a light in the distance. Near dawn I could see that the light was a campfire, with manbeasts and a food beast tethered nearby. One of the manbeasts was glowing with a wolf-like aura. Another was surrounded by a darkness that left a sour taste in the air. Yet another had a bright, vibrant aura that smelled of spring and the fourth just was.

I was awakened by Brand calling out a warning. A large white wolf was circling the camp. It was like looking from two directions at once. I could see a wolf, white and slightly translucent. At the same time I could see myself standing by a fire wearing only a kilt and holding a buckler and mace. I called out to the others not to harm it. But with that the spell was broken and the wolf disappeared.

Still, at the back of my mind I could feel another presence, warm but wary and alert.

The journey back to Nearfield was strange and almost dream-like. Everything looked somehow different. Plants and animals seemed to glow slightly and my skin prickled as if with unspent energy. While I grew happier Aerberon walked around with a face like a bulldog that has swallowed a yellow jacket.

Muttering to himself and pouring over a book at our campfire during the night.

At Nearfield we stored the weapons and armor, getting a receipt from the local Steel Warrior guild chapter house.

Heulwyn came back from visiting the local cleric. Apparently he has reached a level of attainment? Or some such and has to spend a week in prayer and meditation. Strange are the ways of these southerners.

But since something strange is also happening to me I am more than willing to wait.

Brand does not mind either, since there is a good pub here. He even gets a temporary job as bouncer there.

Aerberon, as usual, is not a happy bunny. But he goes with the flow, when he sees that we are happy to stay.

The wolf is always in my dreams these days and, sometimes, even while I am awake. They grow more vivid each day.

On the fifth day of our stay Heulwyn calls us together. He is very agitated and says he must go back to Freeport  at once. No problem, we can take the arms back and get our reward. We will all go together.

Even Aerberon agrees [ will wonders never cease, I ask myself].

We leave at once, or as soon as I get the ox harnessed and the cart loaded.

Two days out, I wake in the morning to see the wolf lying next to me. Am I dreaming? Will it once more disappear if I move? It seems solid. I can feel its breath on the hairs of my arm.

I stair into its eyes and a thought comes to me "Hail Brother"

Joy!!!

I cannot explain how I feel in words. So that one word will have to do.

The rest of the journey,? well I don’t remember anything about it really. Suffice it to say we arrived back at Freeport safe and well.

The others took the Arms to the Steel Warriors and I introduced Megan to my warder and soul brother.

Talking to Jorham [the Beastlord that makes his home with the gypsy's] and telling him our tale, he informs me that the feeling and slight changes I have undergone, all indicate that I have journeyed far enough down the spirit path to acquire the energy to cast spells.

We spend the next ten days in the wilderness, learning the spells and then practicing them. He tells me that the fizzles [spell failure] will get less with use. But they are very frustrating.

I can now heal small amounts of damage magically and increase the power of my warder.

When we get back to Freeport, a lot has been happening. Brand came second in the Arena games and Aerberon has been noticeable by his absence.

The next day Heulwyn invites us all to a meal at the Grub and Grog tavern. Aerberon turns up late, muttering again about having better things to do. Heulwyn explains that his church has ordered him to investigate a cult of Cazic Thule that seems to be trying to take over the docks area.

He also comes out with the astounding news,  at least to Brand and myself, that he has been informed by his order that Aerberon is a Shadow Knight!

Well slap me with a kipper. Everything makes sense now. 

His church leader has ordered him to work with Aerberon on this mission as it is in the interests of both

their deities not to give the Cazic Thulites a toe hold in the city.

So, we investigate in the dock area tomorrow…………………………………………

I wend my weary way to the gypsy camp in the evening, to spend some quality time with Megan.

Afterwards she breaks the news to me, that her family group is moving to Fairfield [on the edge of the Desert of Ro] for the big annual gathering [or Eisteddfod in the old tongue]. Where there will be singing and dancing, poetry and story telling. Also a Battle of the Beers, where the best brewers will bring their best brews for tasting.

Mmmm! Sounds like my kind of festival, I wonder how I can persuade the others to go there.

I shall have to give this some thought.

After bidding Megan and her family a fond farewell I made my way to the Grog and Grub to meet the others.

As I enter it finally hits me that I shall not be seeing Meagan or drinking her fathers beer for over a month. What am I going to do in the meantime?

Aerberon and Brand were already waiting for me and shortly after Heulwyn arrived. He was very upset. Apparently some one has introduced Giant Piranha into the sacred pools and they have decimated the stocks of holy fish in them.

At the next table a tanner was getting progressively drunk and started rambling on about a shipment of furs that had been stolen. When he mentioned a Necromancer he got our attention.

It seems that the group we are investigating had tried to extort money from him and he had told them to take a flying ******.

This morning a load of rare and expensive furs had been hijacked and dumped down a well in the dock ward. All his spare capital had been tied up in the shipment and if he could not get them back he would be ruined.

No one was prepared to help him however, even though he was offering gold and a magical item to any who could get the furs back.

At these words ["Gold  and a Magic Item!!!"] Aerberons eyes lighted up.

Well to be honest, I got pretty excited as well. So having got the exact location of the well and gathered our gear together we set out.

A short walk brought us to the well mouth.

Lowering a lantern we could see the large bale of furs about fifty feet below us. Fortunately it had got snagged on some rocks and had not been washed away with the tide.

Unfortunately, our lantern had attracted two of the 'Drowned Ones', zombies who infest the sewers.

Rather than going down and getting beaten on, we grapnelled the bale and started pulling it up. Dry the furs would weigh about four hundred pounds, wet, well it was nearly double that. More so when the two zombies tried to pull the bale back down.

So we let them have it. Eight hundred pounds falling from twenty feet. Let's just say that, after that they did not try and stop us pulling the furs out again.

The tanner was overjoyed when we delivered the furs. He had many marvellous magic items made of leather in his shop. I chose a collar that increased my mana.

We spent the rest of the day fruitlessly searching for the minions of Cazac Thule.

We were getting nowhere. Dispiritedly we went back to the Grub and Grog for our evening meal.

I was just finishing off a rather disappointing nut brown ale and glancing at the bar. Two men were in heated discussion with the bar tender. They looked familiar, suddenly it came to me. We had spent all day searching for the agents of Cazac Thule and blow me down, here they were. At least I thought it was them. Best to make sure before I start spilling blood. Folks around here are very funny about that sort of thing.

Trying to be subtle, I knocked over Aerberons pint [at last he is trying to drink like a warrior and not some dancing instructor with over tight underwear]. I apologised and insisted on buying him another drink. Taking the mugs to the bar I tried to overhear what was being said.

Bingo! They were trying to extort money from the bar.

Going back to our table I whispered my news, hoping to come up with a plan to capture them. I might as well not have bothered. Brand leaped to his feet and attacked, closely followed by Aerberon [who had been getting surly lately, not having killed anything for at least forty-eight hours].

The fight was short, Brand cleaved the necromancer in two as he was trying to chant a spell. The other,  a rogue, lasted a little longer. We were able to incapacitate him without killing him. Searching them turned up Dervish rings and a small amount of cash.

Having bound the rogue we prepared to take him to the church for questioning. I bet the rogue had not expected this, as no one expects the Inquisition.

Meanwhile Aerberon had decapitated the body of the necromancer and was stuffing it in a sack. I think this shadow knight thing is starting to get to him.

Questioning revealed a disturbing piece of information. Apparently the orcs near the Oasis of Mar are in league with the Dervishes and it is these Dervishes who are trying to gain control of the dock area.

A leader of the church then asked us to investigate this and if possible "throw a spanner in the works" [ he was a Gnome and I think that it is a tinkering term meaning to "mess up"].

How fortunate, our first stop will be Fairfield, Yeee Haa!.

Strangely, Aerberon does not put up an argument against us going. I thought that the prospect of desert travel would have left him moaning and sulky for the rest of the week.

We leave in three days. The other start gathering equipment for our journey and I spend the time in the library. Learning as much as I can about travel and survival in desert conditions.

Arriving at Fairfield late one evening, I was overjoyed to see Megan and her family. We spent a pleasant hour together and then joined the others. We were told of a bard, who was going to perform later on, who had travelled extensively in the area of the Oasis. A fount of knowledge that we should tap.

The bard was very good, he sang rousing battle songs and soft melancholy love songs. He had a profound affect on Aerberon.

Talking to him later on we gained much information. He also gave us some disturbing news. The sand giants of the desert were gathering.  This might or might not have anything to do with our quest. But since sand giants are usually solitary creatures, we feared the worse.

He also offered to pay us for any information on these giants that we could gather. There might be more to this bard than meets the eye.

Before we left Fairfield, Megan asked that I get her seven crocodile teeth.

As we travelled on, the terrain got more and more desolate. By the end of the day we were in the desert proper. From now on we would travel in the late evening and early morning to avoid the harshness of the sun.

Annoyingly, Aerberon has been persistently humming the songs that the bard sang and even, occasionally, bursting forth into song. This is not like him at all.

Following the coastline I spot a crocodile basking in the morning sun. Now is my chance to keep my promise to Megan. We stealthily creep up on it and attack. It was a fierce fight. Brand gave it the finishing blow. Right across the snout with his morning star, shattering the jaw and damaging all the teeth. I can't believe it!

Aerberon proceeds to skin the creature despite my telling him that we don’t have the time to cure and stretch it properly.

We camp at mid day. As the sun begins it's slow decent I see a shape moving in the ripples of heat coming off the sand. Shouting a warning, I call my warder to my side and prepare my mace. It is one of the desert madmen. Poor souls whose brains have been poached by the sun turning them into sadistic killers who feel no pain and have no compassion. But with both Aerberon and I beating on it, along with his pet and my warder; he is soon an ex madman.

Did I mention the fact that Aerberon has been acting strange lately? Well this time he did not take the head. He chopped off the hands instead and proceeded to skin them down to the bones. Scraping all the flesh off the fingers, he put them in a pouch at his side. Sick or  what?

Travelling on that night we were attacked by a giant dune tarantula just as we were looking for a suitable campsite. Brand and Heulwyn dealt with it in short order.

The desert at night can be quite beautiful, with the moon [Luclin] turning the sand to silver. It also causes lots of dark shadows in which Dervish ambushers can hide. The first we know of it is when arrows rain down on us. But we cannot see the enemy. Luckily my warder can smell them, [what little water there is in the desert is used for drinking, not washing, pew!] so he leads our charge. Their camouflage is really good, even close up, they are hard to spot. But archers are like mages you have to get close up and personal. With my warder dragging them down I introduced several of them to my new mace. Which dampened their ardour as their blood dampened the sand.

We worked our way through the Dervishes, fighting in pairs. Myself and my warder, Aerberon and his skeletal pet, Heulwyn and Brand. This new tactic served us well and before long we had them on the run. However it is hard to outrun a wolf or a Beastlord embracing the spirit of the wolf. Suffice it to say, no one would be reporting back to the Dervish camp. At least not in this life.

And as the sun rose higher we made camp………………………………………..

My choice of campsite appeared ideal. A flat area with dunes all around. This would keep us out of site, provide protection from the sand blown wind and provide a little shade in the afternoon.

But did this make Aerberon happy? No. He kept pacing about on our watch, humming short snatches of song in that really annoying way he has recently acquired.

Suddenly the sand beneath his feet gave way. He just managed to scrabble backwards when a hole appeared in the desert floor. It was square and about 3 feet along each side. Calling the others, we peered into the hole. About thirty feet below us was a stone floor. Lying on it was the block of stone that Aerberon had displaced with his incessant wanderings. Holding up the roof on which we were now standing were four jackal headed statues.  It looked like we were on the top of a  buried temple or maybe some form of tomb.

Hammering in an iron spike into a small fissure in the stone work and tying off a rope to it we lowered ourselves into the chamber. Of course I had to leave my warder in our camp to guard as did Aerberon's pet skeleton.

Other than the statues the room was bare. A doorway stood in the north and south walls. These had been plugged with hardened red clay, rather than stone or wood.

It took me some  time to convince Aerberon that the statues were not Gnolls. Even though the lack of fur and tails should have made it obvious to the most town bound of townies. 

Aerberon was quite smug when he pointed out this alignment waving his compass about Until I pointed out the sunlight pouring through the hole in the ceiling, giving us an east west alignment and an indication of the time as well, without the aid of mechanical means. Hah! Technology nil, common senses one.

Brand meanwhile was examining the clay plug in the southern doorway. Then with a few expert strokes of his two-handed morning star he demolished the plug. The small room beyond was crammed with skeletons, which started pouring out and attacking us. Heulwyn presented his holy symbol to them and half decided that they were no longer eager to shred our skins from our bones. Six however were made of hardier stuff and continued to attack.  We soon reduced them to component parts and then dealt with the ones that Heulwyn had turned. Other than some kind of holy symbol around their necks the room produced no treasure. It was obvious however, from scratch marks on the walls in the room, that they had been entombed alive!. Sick or what? 

Readying ourselves for combat at the northern doorway, we were pleasantly surprised when the clay plug was smashed not to be attacked. Looking into the chamber we could see a large stone sarcophagus centrally located. The walls were richly decorated with hieroglyphs and in the ceiling stars were carved. But in no alignment that I have ever seen. 

Now normally I am not one for desecrating tombs. But anyone who would sanction the burying alive of twelve human beings does not deserve a quiet afterlife. So I had no compunction in helping Brand and Aerberon lift off the lid of the sarcophagi, while Heulwyn prepared his Ward Undead spell. Again we were pleasantly surprised when the mummy interred there did not attack. In its hands was a magnificent jeweled long sword that exuded magic. Instantly Aerberon grabbed it. We were again poised to attack but again the mummy did nothing. So we slid the heavy lid back on and left.

We climbed back out of the hole, retrieved the rope and settled down to rest. It seemed that I had just closed my eyes when Brand was shacking me awake yelling that the skeletons were moving. "Don’t be stupid" I said "we smashed them into wee bitty pieces".

He insisted that they were moving so I went to look. And indeed they were moving. Forming a pyramid of bones beneath the hole, up which the Mummy was climbing! Bloody hell!

We surrounded the hole and when it emerged we struck. Giving it no time to gather itself. Heulwyn cast the spell 'Ward Undead' on it. It staggered. Aerberon hit it with his new sword, while Brand and I pummeled it with our weapons. It stood no chance. In no time at all it was a shattered ruin at our feet. 

I remembered reading that the bandages of these mummies could be treated and used to heal wounds much faster than ordinary bandages. I had just managed to remove two bandages when the whole thing started crumbling and turned to dust. Spooky!

With the moon rising and the evening getting cooler and more bearable we set off.

As the sun was rising over the sea we saw , in the distance a village built on stilts right at the edge of the water. Tilled fields surrounded the village and even at this early hour people could be seen working amongst the crops. As we got closer we could see that they were of normal size, between six and a half and seven and a half feet tall.

Closer still, and we could see that they were wearing clan colors. Although in patterns that I had never before seen.

We were greeted at the gates to the village. The accent was softer than ours was but it was still the Northman tongue.  After introducing ourselves we were led to the Inn and given the welcome cup as is the tradition in all civilized societies.

After refreshing ourselves with a swim, we settled down and told the villagers, who were crowded into the Inn, all the latest news. And in the Northman tradition, told of our ancestors, our clan history and of the blood feuds we were presently engaged in.

They in turn did the same.

 It turns out that this village was the spot at which the Northman migration landed thousands of years ago. And it was from here that the majority of clans moved northwards. The villagers were the descendants of the clans that decided to remain here.

By this time, darkness had fallen, the lanterns were lighted and a cooling breeze was blowing in from the sea. As I looked around I was surprised to see that two Froglocks had joined us. Imagine a five-foot tall frog  wearing clothes and walking [hopping?] upright and you are envisioning a Froglock.

As the villagers dispersed, they would have to work harder tomorrow to make up for the time lost listening to us today, the innkeeper brought us several mugs of a very foamy, but tasty beer. He then proceeded to tell us that his son Puntar, was over due from a trading mission to the gypsy camp at the Oasis of Mar. Since we were going in that direction we told him that we would keep and eye out for him.

We were just downing the last of the ale when the door crashed open and one of the village hunters entered carrying a  body. It was the body of a Dervish. He had demanded a ransom for the safe return of Puntar and when questioned by the hunter on his where abouts died of a fractured skull. From apparently; hitting the stilt of the hunters house, with his head, one too many times.

The hunter was most apologetic.

Not to worry, I said. We would track him back to their lair and free the boy. But as we were leaving the Inn a sudden sandstorm descended on the village. We retreated back into the Inn. The hunter told us that this type of storm was often created by Undead and was usually localized to a small area. With that the floor erupted and two bandaged arms grasped Aerberon's ankles and started dragging him down. We were totally surprised.

Aerberon just managed to grasp one of the support pillars, which gave us time to react. Brand and I grabbed him and heaved him back into the room. Unfortunately we also dragged the mummy in as well. Can you imagine the look on its face as it suddenly soared into the room landing in a  puddle of spilt beer. We had to as well, since its face was covered with bandages.

Do these things never learn? was killing it once not enough? Ah well! Giving it no time to recover we set about turning it into a bandage factory.

This time we gathered up the dust as it crumbled an put them into several empty bottles. We thought that if we separated the parts it could not recombine and follow us again. Or not for a long time anyway. To this end we threw some of the bottles into the sea while the tide was going out and we were going to bury others on our way to the Dervish camp.

The sandstorm had obliterated the tracks of the Dervish, but as the hunter had said the storm was localized to the village. And by circling the village and spiraling outwards I was able to pick up his track.

Aerberon has started acting funny. At least more funny than usual. As well as singing and humming at the most inopportune times, he has taken to suddenly spinning around and shouting You shall not have it, or some such. When questioned he says he is talking to the mummy. I think he has finally cracked. All this dealing with death and undeath is too much for him.

A little way from the village two Dervish archers ambushed us. They must have accompanied the one in the village. Their camouflage was superb, we could not see where the arrows were coming from. Fortunately my warder could smell them. Six of us, two of them. No contest.

Once dealt with we could see that their cloaks carried a minor enchantment, that made them look like small outcroppings of rock that could commonly be seen in the desert. We appropriated these, they could be very useful.

We buried the remaining bottles of mummy dust at about one-mile intervals. As we were about to bury the last bottle, at about midnight, the dust in it just disappeared. Bugger! another good plan goes up in smoke.

At around this time, my warder started getting restless. It could scent something in the air. Unfortunately there was no wind at the present, so it could not zero in on what it was.

Aerberon, who was beginning to straggle at this time, started shouting and pointing to our left. Looking in that direction I finally saw what had been bothering the wolf. Two Orc legionnaires were charging us from behind a dune. Wielding double handed swords, they stood as tall as Brands seven feet, but were much broader across the chest.

We were hard pressed. Again, if it was not for Heulwyns healing spells and the stupidity of the Orcs, we would not have survived. They concentrated their attacks on myself and Brand. We were getting lambasted but Heulwyn was just managing to keep us alive. Meanwhile my warder was ripping chunks out of one legionnaire while Aerberon and his pet were attacking the other from behind.

After the battle we could not go on until we had rested and Heulwyn had meditated, to bring his manna up to full. So we decided on an early camp.

Tomorrow we would go on……………………………………………………

Travel in the desert at night is exhilarating. Although incredibly hot to my Northman perspective, the wide-open spaces and clear starry skies remind me of the tundra back home. Even the hot wind driven sand against my face evokes thoughts of hiking through the ice floes in a blizzard.

The opposite seems to be true of Aerberon however. The further we travel, the more morose he seems to get. And he will keep trying to sing those bloody silly songs in that gravely voice of his. It sounds like some one giving a set of bagpipes a vasectomy without anesthetic. Not pleasant, I can assure you.

Towards dawn, a Dry Bone Skeleton [Heulwyn told us later] tried to attack us. As we prepared to greet it, the Cleric presented his holy symbol! And it ran. Boy did it run. We tried to catch it, but had no chance. It even outdistanced my warder. We were most disgruntled. A little light entertainment before breakfast, ruined by the injudicious use of clerical power. For some reason Heulwyn did not see it our way, and sulked for the rest of the day.

That evening, as we were breaking camp, I noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye. Now that I have the power to cast spells, I seem to be able to see certain emanations of magical power. This is what I was seeing now. Looking  like a pale, faint, misty man shaped shadow, gliding over the sand towards our camp.

This was how my trainer had said The Shadowed Ones of the tundra appeared. I was also told that they could be good or evil, but were always powerful. So hoping that this one was good or at least neutral, I stepped forwards and bid it welcome to our camp.

My companions were looking at me as though I had lost my senses. Realizing that they could not see the Shadowed One, I asked it to manifest itself. Gradually the opened book that it was holding appeared in mid air. It asked us why we were traveling in the desert and I thought it prudent to answer him/it truthfully, much to Aerberon's chagrin. [ He would not tell his own mother the truth unless she paid him].

The Shadowed One then proceeded to greet us individually, giving us our names, ancestry, occupation and even the gods to which we owed loyalty. This definitely did not please Aerberon, but was an effective demonstration of its power.

After a few words more on what lay ahead of us, it left.

I think I can honestly say that we all breathed a sigh of relief when it had finally disappeared. We then had a long and some-what heated discussion on what this visitation could mean. However, we came to no real conclusion and began saving our breath for the journey.

The tracks left by the Dervishes was getting harder to see and I lost them twice that evening, before reacquiring them. As dawn broke we could see a large outcrop of rock silhouetted against the eastern sky.

As the light got better, a tented encampment appeared at the base of the rocks. Most likely the Dervish encampment, but we had to be sure. We made camp half a mile from the tents. Aerberon and I would scout the encampment. To which end, he removed his shiny half plate armor and donned more practical leathers.

We circled the camp and outcrop as the light got brighter. Climbing the rock brought us to a position fifty feet above the main area of the encampment. Drawing on  the rock colored Dervish cloaks we had liberated , we settled down to watch. Hoping to gauge the rhythm of the camp and get some idea of how many Dervishes we were going to have to deal with.

Suddenly Aerberon stiffened and started putting an arrow to his bow. Looking around I could see nothing out of place. He then surged to his feet and put an arrow into a Dervish who was creeping up behind us. A pretty good snap shot too! [ but don’t tell him I said so] It caught him in the collarbone, causing him to drop the parrying dagger he was carrying in his off hand.  I charged him, slamming him off the outcrop and onto the desert below. Not stopping to see if he was dead, I spun around because I had heard the Twang! of two more bowstrings. Looking further across the rock, I could see Aerberon in an archery duel with another Dervish.

This one was made of weaker stuff than the other. For as soon as I started my charge he turned and ran, shouting his head off.

The camp was now alerted. Arrows started arching up from the desert floor towards our position. A quick glance revealed that four archers were trying to keep us pinned down. While two groups of four raced to either end of the outcrop to trap us on the hill. This does not look good especially with our comrades over half a mile away.

Our only chance, as I saw it, was to overcome one group quickly, then hare off to our camp and fight the rest from a position of strength. To that end, we moved to the southern end of the rock and scrambled down the slope to meet the four there. This had the added benefit of keeping us out of the sight of the other two groups.

Charging them [this was no time for finesse] we gained some advantage. I am sure they did not think we would be crazy enough to take the fight to them. I quickly dealt with my two and turned to help Aerberon. It was at this point that I took a nasty arrow wound from the Dervish that had run away earlier.

We finished off the other two and legged it towards our camp. In the distance I could see our comrades running to meet us. Unfortunately, once we had cleared the protection of the rocks we came under fire from the camp. Behind us we could also here the other group charging after us.

I could feel the life force draining from me. The last arrow had done more damage than I had first thought. So, in desperation, I embraced the 'spirit of the wolf' and surged ahead of Aerberon. Trying to get to Heulwyn so that he could heal my wounds before the Dervishes arrived.

Brand and Heulwyn seemed to be moving at a snails pace. All that heavy, metal armour and in this heat, you can imagine how they felt. Indeed when we finally got together their faces were as red as beetroot. Heulwyn managed to gasp out a healing spell that greatly improved my chances of surviving the next few minutes. Brand did not stop, but unsheathing his morning star charged the Dervishes alone.

The cleric finished his second healing spell on me as Aerberon arrived gasping and bleeding.

I turned to aid Brand while Heulwyn worked his magic on Aerberon. His spells seem to work much better on the Shadow Knight, now that Heulwyn knows what he is dealing with.

Brand was holding off four Dervishes single handedly. The morning sun was flashing on his silver armor as he laid about him with his morning star. Seeing an opening, I rushed in and dispatched one Dervish with a single blow. This gave Brand his opportunity, he smashed one to the ground and caught another with a mighty blow on the back swing.

Aerberon joined the fray, just as the remaining Dervishes arrived from the camp. For some reason their leader singled me out for his sole attention. But, by that time, Heulwyn had cast the protective spell  'Holy Armor' on me, making me much harder to hit. Then he made the fatal mistake of ignoring my Warder. The wolf hamstrung him, dragging him to the ground, just as my mace made contact with his jaw! Not a pretty sight.

The Dervishes did not lose heart at the death of their leader. They fought bravely to the last, preferring death to capture. However with Aerberon's conjured skeleton and my Warder to aid us we soon made short work of the remainder.

A search of the camp revealed Puntar, the youth captured from the village, tied up in the leader's tent. Also to our delight a bag of one thousand platinum pieces. You should have seen Aerberon's face light up at the sight of all that coin. He almost smiled at one point!

Further searching revealed a door set into the rock outcrop. This turned out to be a temple, carved out of solid rock by the ancients. Dedicated to some unknown god, it had been befouled by the paraphernalia of Cazic Thule. We removed all signs of the perverted one and settled down to rest in the cool of the vestibule.

In the evening Puntar declared that he would make his own way back to the village. And taking supplies and weapons from the Dervish camp set off in the moonlight.

The Shadowed One appeared once more, as we began to make our way south to-wards the area of the Oasis of Mar. He congratulated us on defeating the Dervishes but said that what awaits us at the Oasis

Would stretch our capabilities. On that ominous note he left.

If Heulwyn's calculations are correct, we are due for a visit from the Mummy seeking to retrieve his sword from Aerberon. At this news, the Shadow Knights good mood vanished. He spent the rest of the night mumbling to himself  and swearing that the sword was his and no jumped up, mobile bundle of rags  was going to take it off him.

Around midnight, the Mummy turned up, but we were ready for him. Brand and Aerberon peppered it with fire arrows. Then we moved in and slew it again. This is becoming monotonous, there must be some way to permanently kill this creature!

Further into the night a dull thudding could be heard in the distance, getting closer and closer.

Then in the distance the head of a giant could be seen over the top of a dune. And it was coming our way!

There was no way we could out run the it, or fight such a monster. The only thing to do was hide and hope it passed us by. We burrowed into the side of a dune and covered ourselves with the Dervish camouflage cloaks we had acquired. We huddled there, hardly daring to breathe as the giant drew near.

The concussion of his footsteps caused the sand to shift and shake. At one point, I thought we might be buried alive. Thankfully it passed over us without stopping. But it had been very close, so close in fact that one of its hairs had fallen next to us. It was stuck in the sand like a javelin. Brand tried to cut it in half with his great sword. He only scratched it and that scratch instantly healed. The regeneration rate of these creature must be phenomenal.

We were so shaken by our near miss that we decided on an early camp………………………..

That afternoon as I slept, my former master Kailan came to me in a dream.

 "Yer tae come home as soon as ye may" he said. "There is gae big trouble, yer village has been attacked and destroyed. The council is recalling all the fighters, so hae yerself hame laddie. Yon wee death knight will be given safe conduct if  he chooses to come with ye".

 I immediately awakened and told Brand, who was on watch, of the dream. We were now in a quandary, we had given our word to try to unravel the link between the Giants, Orcs and the Dervishes. But the call home was strong in us. Having discussed it with Heulwyn and Aerberon we decided to go on one more day to the alleged meeting place, then head straight to Freeport. Straight across the desert. A quicker but much more dangerous journey.

There we would pay a Shaman or some such to take us home via the magic gateways.

 Heulwyn agreed to accompany us immediately, but Aerberon stated that he would not be seen dead in the cold northern wastes. I cannot understand him, they are not that cold and certainly they are not a wasteland. It's just the bad publicity we get from travelers who do not take the proper precautions or buy the right gear.

 As we were brewing tea, before setting off that evening, I saw two figures in the distance. They were heading south. As they drew nearer I recognized one of them. He was a corporal in the Freeport Militia.

I hailed them. They immediately drew their weapons, a sensible precaution in these lands. In any lands in fact.

After recognizing us they put  their weapons away and joined us for tea. They said they were on a secret mission and asked us what we were doing in the area.  Aerberon told them some Cock and Bull story, but I am pretty sure they did not believe him. They left us abruptly, claiming the urgency of their mission. I noticed that they were moving much quicker now than when I first spotted them.

 We finished our evening breakfast, cleaned up the campsite and moved on.

 A little past midnight we arrived at the place of the moot  (Meeting or Council; Ed.). It was deserted.

Scanning the area I could see that the three groups had met here within the last few hours. Four giants, half a dozen Orcs and four Dervishes. We found hairs from all four giants, which we gathered together to give to the Bard.

Closer examination of the campsite indicated that two humans had joined the group from the north about an hour before we  arrived. It must be the corporal and his companion. Bloody traitors!

Having gathered this information we headed northwest as fast as we could travel

 We all tried to persuade Aerberon to accompany us to the northlands but he was obdurate. That afternoon, Brand awoke and told us that his totem animal, a Caribou, had appeared to him; beckoning him home. This is most worrying.

 That night we picked up the pace. Taking shorter and fewer rest stops. I fear that this pace will exhaust Heulwyn before too long.

As dawn lighted the sky in the east, we could see a figure on top of the sand dune ahead of us. As we got closer we saw that it was the Bard who had sent us to gather the information and the giant's hairs.

 He greeted us and said that he knew of our need for haste, so had come to meet us. We passed on the information and the hairs. Then he gave us our reward. To me he gave a Black bladed Uluk  (Stats :- +3 attack and damage. Damage= 1-6;. Delay= 3; Strength +2  Wisdom +2   HP +14   Mana +9   Magic Resistance +2    Crits 20  X2.  Ed.).

 To Heulwyn he gave an Amulet,  to Brand a Green bladed Axe and to Aerberon a Silk Shield. Needless to say, I was overjoyed with my gift. The others seemed quite happy too.

 Again as I slept, my totem animal; the wolf, came to me. This time he spoke. The Conclave of the North have arranged for a Gnome to transport us to our homeland. We should meet him at the secret entrance to Freeport. When I awoke the Bard was sat in our camp. No one had seen him enter. Spooky!

 Again he greeted us. He also told us that he was now in a position to expedite our travel to Freeport.

[Expedite? Sounded painful to me, until Heulwyn explained what it meant]. So we agreed. He waved his hands and there were the gates of Freeport. Magic! As I think I said before, there is more to this Bard than just singing pretty songs.

 The three of us headed straight for the secret entrance, Aerberon held back, saying that he had other business to deal with. It's sad really, I kept hoping that he would change his mind. That he was just trying to wind us up about not coming with us. Still, each man has to walk his own path.

 Passing through the illusory wall, we were met by a Gnome. I did not quite realize, just how short these people were. Standing no more than two and a half feet tall, he wore a full length yellow robe [ about the size of a hand towel] and carried an ornate staff that would serve a Northman as a toothpick.

  "Hold onto my shoulders" he said. Easier said than done. We all had to kneel down, if anyone had seen us, well I don’t dare speculate what they would have thought we were doing.

The Gnome made some arcane gestures and touched the stone plinth. The world shifted, and we were standing in a vast courtyard. A strange shiny orb, glowed in the sky. I felt curiously light, as though I weighed less than normal. Obviously a reaction to the magic the gnome used.

 He led us, swiftly, to another small stone obelisk on which the runes for Halas had been inscribed. Again we went through the same procedure. The world shifted again and!!!!

Bloody hell!!  it was cold. We were wearing desert gear and we had appeared in a howling blizzard. We made a quick run for the entrance to Halas and arrived shivering and blue. Much to the amusement of the guards there.

 Fortunately we were expected. Warm robes were provided and we were led into the Great Moot Hall where the Conclave of the North was in session. All Northman adults [over the age of sixteen and able to bear weapons] who could make it were there. The noise was tremendous, people shouting and arguing. Groups were polarizing along clan or totem lines. Tempers were starting to fray and it looked as though blood might be spilled, when.. Oooooohhaaaaaa!!!. The Great Moot aurochs horn was sounded. Out onto the podium strode Joman, Oracle of the Tribunal

A hush filled the hall. Rarely has Joman spoken at a Moot, once before in  my short lifetime, and always it was to tell of momentous events.

 "My son", he said " has walked the spirit road. While there, a great bear showed him a vision. The hand of Bertolox the foul god, has stretched over the Gnolls of Blackburrow and gifted one there with the power to unite the Gnolls. This black hearted one has organized a concerted attack on the northlands, but has not as yet gained full control of all the tribes. We must destroy this Black One while holding back the Gnolls from the outlying villages. Some amongst you must venture into Blackburrow and cut the heart from this abomination."

 His piercing blue eyes scanned the crowd. His eyes rested on me and it was as though I was stripped bare. My innermost fears there for all to see.

 Then he cried out " Who will do this great deed!"

 Hundreds of us raised our hands and begged for the task. Joman walked amongst us with the questing staff in his hand. He stopped at each that had offered to undertake the task. Finally, to my great joy, he handed the staff to me!

 " Your village was the first to be destroyed, it will be up to you to avenge them."  Looking around he asked, " does any contest this choice". This was a mere formality, no one ever contested the will of the Oracle.

 To the astonishment of all, Caden of the clan MacDougal raised challenge.

This challenge must be met immediately. The first fighter to go unconscious loses. But death must not occur. This stretches the skill of the warrior to the utmost.

A circle was formed and battle commenced immediately.

 Caden was a canny warrior. The staff he used to fight with was obviously magical. But with my newly won Uluk I could attack twice as fast as him. The look on his face when I cut him twice before he could even raise his staff for a parry was a sight to behold. And that was the pattern for the rest of the fight. He would get in one solid blow to maybe two or three of mine. Finally he slumped unconscious to the floor. His clan healer soon sorted him out and we clasped hands in friendship at the end.

 We slept in the clan hall that night. The next day was spent gathering provisions for the journey. Blackburrow was two weeks trek away under good conditions. Who knew what we would face now with the Gnolls on the warpath.

Before we left Joman sent for us. With him was a Froglock.

"This is Agripa" he said introducing him, " a Paladin of Mithaniel Marr, sworn enemy of Bertoxxulous. He has begged permission to journey with you for the honor of his god. I have sought guidance on this and the answers were favorable. But, as the staff bearer, it is up to you whether he goes or not."

 Well, I thought, a Paladin will be a pleasant change from a Shadow Knight. Maybe there will be less arguments now. On second thoughts probably not. They both espouse extreme views, still it will be different and the extra healing wont go amiss either.

 "Aye, yon we froggy chap is gae welcome tae join us." I said in my most cultured voice.

 We arranged to leave for Blackburrow the following day. Only now were our systems adjusting to normal time and temperature. Heulwyn however was suffering, he is not built to enjoy our temperate climate. I try to cheer him up by saying it could be worse, it could be winter. But  this fails to raise his spirits. Can't understand why.

 The first few days were uneventful, the pathways being regularly patrolled by our warriors.

On the third day nine Ice Goblins tried to ambush us. Four archers were high on the hillside while five sword wielders blocked our path. Agripa, Heulwyn and I charged the sworders while Brand picked off the archers with his new composite longbow.

It was soon over. My new blade is certainly impressive, one blow was usually enough to dispatch a Goblin. Gwyn my warder dragged down the last of the archers, Brand having dispatched the rest.

 For the next eleven days it was just a case of slogging on and finding safe places to camp. Heulwyn is becoming more acclimatized to our weather and is no longer constantly shivering.

 The fifteenth day saw us looking at the mountain into which Blackburrow has been carved. A dirt track, hardly wide enough for a wagon winds up the hill to the entrance. This is the maw of a gigantic Gnoll, carved into the mountainside. We could see four Gnolls guarding the gate. One with a large ram's horn strapped to his side.

 As we watched, a wagon left the darkness of the burrow and slowly descended to the valley floor.

On board were two humans, bundled up against the cold. Scum! Trading with Gnolls, on our land.

We followed them until they were out of sight of the Burrow guards and then struck. One we killed outright the other we captured.

The wagon contained 30 kegs of Blackburrow stout. An hallucinogenic drink, outlawed in all good aligned lands. Not only were these traitors to humanity dealing with Gnolls, they were also helping export their poisonous wares.

 Agripa would not let me torture our captive into telling us what he was up to. [I never thought I would miss Aerberon so soon]. Brand then came up with the idea of getting him drunk on his own wares. To which plan Agripa could find no fault. The problem was he would not drink it, claiming that we had probably poisoned it.

To prove otherwise both Brand and I drank a mug of the brew. [Actually I was glad of the chance to taste this drink, never having before been allowed to consume any]. Now I can see why it is outlawed,

I immediately started seeing snakes attacking us from the boulders. Luckily, Heulwyn  cast the spell Cure Poison on me and the effects of the drink, disappeared. Brand was unaffected by the brew. Strange that!

The prisoner then drank, somewhat reluctantly. Eventually we got his story. They were trading arms for the stout, as its value to the underground races in the city of Queynos was enormous.

Well that did it for me. Giving weapons to Gnolls, our race enemies. Before I could think, my Uluk sliced into his throat a second before Brands new axe buried itself in the trader's skull.

 Of course we will have to give ourselves up for judgment when we get home. Northmen very rarely kill an unarmed opponent, at least not intentionally. It is one of the rules we live by.

 The plan is now to use the wagon to gain entrance into the Burrow. We shall chance our arm tomorrow.

Now is the time for a good nights sleep well away from prying eyes ………………

So the next morning we headed back to the Gnoll lair of Blackburrow to observe the comings and goings and to try and formulate a plan to get us near the leader.  At irregular intervals, pairs of scouts would run up to the gate, make a report and then head back out to the tundra.

As late afternoon arrived, I sent my warder [Gwyn] up the mountain side to see if he could make a stealthy approach to the gateway. Unfortunately he was spotted and one of the Gnolls chased him off with a thrown javelin. Gwyn headed off as a natural wolf would do but circled around some boulders and attacked the guard from behind. Dragging it down and ripping out its throat.

He then tried to lead the other Gnolls to our position so that we could ambush them. They started to chase him and then thought better of it and returned to their posts. The larger blowing the rams horn he carried.

A few minutes later a group of six warriors came down the path to the gateway.  They retrieved the body and went back up the hill and out of sight. At least we had found out how long we had between the blowing of the horn and the appearance of reinforcements.

It was at this point the javelin stuck me in the thigh. Thrown by one of the two Gnoll scouts that had crept up on us, from behind. Two of them, five of us. Big mistake, as they soon found out. The Paladin charged one and I, the other. Again, I was impressed by the damage my Black Bladed Uluk delivered. One blow and its throat was a bloody mess. It drowned in its own blood. Agripa took slightly longer to deal with his opponent, though the outcome was the same. Scanning the guards on the hillside showed that they had heard and seen nothing of what was going on down here.

So with our white cloaks draped about us as camouflage we crept up the hillside towards the gate.   We got to within seventy feet of the guards when Agripa stumbled and sent a boulder crashing to the valley floor. [Come back Aerberon, all is forgiven].

Of course this alerted the Gnolls, two threw their javelins at us while the third blew on the alarm horn.  We have about ninety seconds to deal with these before six more Gnolls spoil our day. I rush the horn blower while Agripa and Heulwyn deal with one guard and Brand the other. They drop faster than I would have expected. Maybe their better warriors are out raiding our villages. Or maybe they are just deeper in the Burrow.

Agripa and I impaled the Gnoll heads on their javelins and stuck them in the path. We hoped to give the follow up Gnolls pause when they saw their companions in such a state, long enough for us to get in our first strikes. Brand and Heulwyn hid either side of the gateway. Unfortunately we did not have enough time to hide ourselves. They came barreling out of the entrance before we could reach cover. They did however ignore Brand and Heulwyn's hideout and come charging at us. This gave the cleric time to cast an area effect spell, ‘Word of Pain’ which struck all six Gnolls.

They were so intent on attacking Agripa and I, that they did not notice when Brand nearly cut the last in line in half, with a mighty blow of his axe. This left five charging at us. Well, the only answer to this kind of situation is brute force and ignorance. So naturally we counter charged. They were so cocky. Thinking us out numbered, until Brand, Heulwyn and Gwyn [my warder] barreled into them from behind.

Soon there was blood and fur flying everywhere. And shortly after that, there were no more Gnolls to fight. Pity, I was just getting into my stride.

Serving these Gnolls in the same manner, we displayed their heads tastefully, at the entrance. A form of counter terror, to any scouts who come to report in. Also, if I am brutally honest, a little payback for my village. Just a little, you understand. I am personally thinking along the lines of genocide.

Carrying on, following the path, we came to the main entrance to Blackburrow. Two guards bar our way, but not for long.

The darkness inside is stygian. Our only recourse is to light a lantern, even if this will give us away. We move deeper and deeper into the Burrow. In the distance we hear the sound of metal on metal. We are delayed for a few seconds by another pair of guards, but other than the continuous sounds of distant hammering we hear and see nothing.

A while later, we see daylight up ahead. We put out the lantern and creep forward. Well, when I say creep, I creep. My three companions, sort of lumber in their half plate mail. Why me gods? I ask for about the thousandth time. The tunnel leads us to what can only be described as a large cavern from which the roof has been removed. A fissure cuts the floor of this cavern in half. This is spanned by a rope bridge. By the bridge is a mature oak tree, from a branch of which has been suspended a large bronze bell.

In front of the tree, five Gnoll warrior maids sit around a table, guarding the bridge.

Agripa says he thinks he can get to the bell before anyone can ring it and hold them off long enough for us to dispose of them. Well it’s a plan, not a particularly good plan. But, still, a plan. Since we can think of nothing better, we agree. Off he hops, and, would you believe it. The bitches are so stunned by the sight of a blue armored frog suddenly appearing in the lair, that he actually makes it to the bell before they can react. Unbelievable!

It does not, however, take them long to react. They throw over the table to form a barrier between them and us, while two of their number, attack Agripa. The battle goes the way you would expect and soon we were the only ones standing on this side of the chasm.

A quick search, reveals the roasted and part eaten remains of a Northman. In a corner is his gear, amongst which is a silver symbol of The Tribunal; our ruling gods.

It glowed with a magical energy; I offered it to Brand, to hold until we could find a proper home for it. He backed off refusing to touch it. Finally he admitted he was a follower of the mad war god Rallos Zek, a berserker cult. A link short of a chain mail shirt in my opinion, but we have been companions for a long time now so I will have to make allowances.

On returning to the rope bridge, we found that the hand rails had been thrown down. All that was left, was a narrow, swaying, plank path.

How the hell are we going to get across this I thought to myself…………………..  

So there we were, looking at a two foot wide plank rope bridge with no hand ropes. That disappeared into the waterfall created mist, over a fifty foot drop into a lake. There was no way of telling how long the bridge was either.

At that point, arrows started coming our way from the mist. Mostly inaccurate, but the occasional  one would hit, so we could not stay here. Nerving myself for the dash across the bridge I was forestalled by Agripa, who started hopping over the planks. Unfortunately this was not a good idea. His type of locomotion soon set up an oscillation in the bridge. As he was landing, the bridge was rising and he was catapulted into the water below. If the situation had not been so serious we would probably have fallen about laughing. Flying Frogs!!!!

With Bran covering me with his tower shield I lowered a rope for Agripa. It was then that I saw that he was in greater peril than I had first thought, Long ,pike like, fish were attacking him. Fortunately he was a good swimmer and made it to the rope with only minor injuries.

A change of plan. Brand advanced slowly across the slick planks of the bridge, shield warding off the arrows. But he is not the most agile monkey in the troop, as they say. Before making more than thirty feet he fell, just managing to grab the planks. The fool would not let go of his shield, so he could not climb back onto the bridge. Nothing for it but to brave the arrows and help him. I had just managed to pull him back onto the planking when a Gnoll warrior, probably thinking we were and easy kill, came onto the bridge and attacked Brand.

Stupid Gnoll! From his prone position, Brand thumped the Gnoll in its nether regions [ got to make your eyes water, if you know what I mean] and as it doubled up I opened its throat with my Uluk. Fish food!

We could now see the end of the bridge and our welcoming committee. Four Gnoll archers and two, more burly, Gnoll warriors holding the exit from the bridge. We have to move slowly or risk tumbling into the water below. Eventually we reach the end of the bridge. Time for a little payback. While Brand engaged the warriors, Agripa and I leap from the bridge to solid ground and engage the archers. Yet more fish food

Having cleared the ledge of Gnolls we stop and take stock of our surroundings. An iron-banded door is set into the wall to our right and to our left is an open passageway from which comes the sound of metal striking metal. Agripa and I creep down the corridor a short distance while Brand and Heulwyn guard the locked door. We look into a forge area where two Gnoll smiths are beating out swords on anvils. The noise must have drowned out the sound of our battle. That, or they were so confident of victory that they did not bother to help their comrades. Either way, they were in for a rude awakening.

They put up quite a battle. The smiths had little skill with the swords they were making, but were extremely strong. When they did land a blow it really hurt.

Now to see what is behind the banded door. We smash it in with much brute force and a lot of ignorance. This becomes apparent when we finally get the door open. Heulwyn spots a key on the ledge above the door. [Doh!!!!]. We move quietly down a stone passageway. The flickering light of my torch is soon the only illumination we have. At the bottom  we encounter another reinforced door. Brand tries to pick the lock, but the ham-fisted git manages to break off the pick in the mechanism.

Ah well! Nothing for it, other  than raw muscle power. Brand and I shoulder charge the door, and bounce!

Ouch!!

Bloody strong door!

It takes several more charges before the door suddenly gives way. We are then greeted with a volley of hastily thrown javelins and find ourselves in the midst of several startled Gnoll warriors. Brand and I stand back to back and hew at them as our companions attack from the doorway. Again we smash through our enemy, thanks to the magical weapons given to us by the Bard.

The next area is a bit more of a challenge. Rope bridges guarded by archers, lead to an underground island from which more rope bridges continue into the cave complex.

While pondering this problem, Agripa suddenly charges forward. He gets halfway across the first bridge before the Gnolls can react.

Unfortunately they don’t have to do much, just pull out a retaining pin and a ten foot length of the bridge planking drops into the water below. This catches Agripa in mid hop! Suddenly there is nothing under him to land on. Except the water forty feet below. He does however execute a graceful entry into the water [ I would give it 7.5 for style but only 5 for technical content].

Brand gave him covering fire as he swam back to our position and I lowered a rope for him to climb.

Again he charged off across the bridge, leaping the gap in the planks. What an impulsive little fellow he is.

The Gnolls did not stand but ran off over the second bridge, closely followed by Agripa. Unfortunately not close enough. You guessed it. They pulled another pin, dropping the planks from under Agrippa's feet. [this dive only rated a 4]. Just as well he is a Froglock as anyone else would have a hard time trying to swim in banded mail armor.

We made our way slowly over the broken bridges and into the main living area. Here a large band of Gnolls awaited us. But on closer look they seemed to be old Gnolls and females. All however were armed and when they saw us they let out a howl and charged. The fight should have been short and bloody. To start it was. Then a Gnoll that we could not see started casting spells at us. Brand was blinded for a short while. My skin started to freeze, but what is a little cold to a Northman.

Agripa was surrounded by a burst of flame. Things were starting to go badly for us, when Brand spotted the caster on a ledge across the lake which formed one side of the cavern.

Being the lightest armored, I dived into the water and swam to him. His spells, cold and fire were causing me little harm. The cold, because of my Northman heritage and the fire because I was almost submerged in water.  The closer I got the more desperate he became. As I reached him he panicked and started to run. I think he had run out of mana (Ed. Magical Energy).

He ran but a short way before I caught him and introduced him to my new Uluk. [I have named it Malice by the way. Malice Aforethought]. When I returned the battle had been won.

Fighting our way through several smaller caverns we came to the lair of the necromancer, for such was the black heart that ruled in Blackburrow now. A skeleton and a Zombie Gnoll guarded the entrance and before we could attack and engulfing darkness encompassed me. My strength drained and my reflexes slowed. The Gnoll Zombie attacked me and the Skeleton attacked Brand. Through a dark fog I could just make out the Necromancer starting another spell.

Suddenly I felt a burst of energy flow through me and my sight cleared. Heulwyn had come to the rescue.  Angry now,  I slammed the Gnoll out of my way leaving it to Brands tender care, and charged the filthy Gnoll spell slinger.  Agripa also closed in, giving it a choice of targets. He could get one of us but not both. The fool chose to immobilize Agripa.

Now I have noticed that although spell casters are powerful they can generally take little in the way of damage before falling. This one was no different. Three strokes from my Uluk and his guts were staining the floor. Two more and I held his black heart in my hand. At last, my village was revenged!

On looking around for another target I was disappointed to see that my companions had dealt with the zombie, skeleton and a female Gnoll cleric that had attacked me from behind. Such was my blood lust that I had not noticed.

Heulwyn freed Agripa and healed our wounds. A search of the room revealed war plans and various other documents that will no doubt provide valuable information when we have time to peruse them.

Also several magic items came to light but we have no time to examine them now. We have to make our way out and I don’t think we shall have such an easy time as we had getting in.

We have lost the element of surprise and given them time to send to their troops on the tundra. But at least I hold their leaders heart in my hand…………………………………………………………….   

We give the area a last search. Brand discovers a secret door. No time for finesse. We break it down. Inside are two Northmen, stapled to the wall, gagged and in a bad way. Brand pulls out the staples by main force and Heulwyn starts his healing chant.

Wiping away the blood and filth I discover, to my joy, that these are two of my cousins. Rolf; a member of the militia and Dougal; a young warrior, barely out of training. Both Agripa and I aid Heulwyn with what little magic we have. Shortly both are well enough to move under their own steam.

We equip them with what armor and weapons we can find and begin the trek back to the surface. On our way Rolf tells me that they are the sole survivors of my village. I am an orphan!

My hatred of the Gnolls increases, if that were possible.  I begin to hope that one of their raiding parties does make it back before we leave this foul burrow.

I should have remembered the words of my old master, Kailan. He said "Always be careful what ye wish faer laddie, as it has a way of sneaking up and biting ye on the arse!".

Sadly we have to learn these lessons the hard way. Ho Hum!.

With Agripa on point we had just reached the throne room exit when four Gnolls boil through the doorway. Preceded by their thrown javelins. They do a double take when they see the rest of us and beetle back out of the room.

Agripa follows close on their heels with the rest of us backing him up. In the next room they have thrown over a large table and are using it as cover.

Now the thing about Froglocks is, not only are they good swimmers but they can also jump really well.

With Brand and I heading for either end of the table, Agripa charges straight forward and leaps into the centre of the group. This completely dumfounds them and their defence totally collapses. With obvious  results. Four less Gnolls to trouble the world.

Moving on, we travel past a snake pit. Four enormous snakes slither at its base. Several skeletons can be seen in the mire that is the floor. Spikes in the wall angled downwards, prevent their escape.

Following the passage we turn a bend and come to a large area that adjoins an underground lake. Standing at the edge of the lake are a group of five Gnolls. One gestures and Agripa is wracked with pain.

Spellcaster!!!!

I charge, straight at him, followed by my warder Gwyn and Brand. The four warriors try to interpose themselves. Brand engages two, I smash one to the floor and Gwyn leaps at the other. The caster points his staff at Brand and utters some Gnollish filth. Brand also spasms in agony. With Agripa and Heulwyn joining the fray I charge the Gnoll Necromancer. The cowardly git sees me coming and leaps into the water. There is another splash as Agripa follows him into the gloom of the lake.

Well, there is no way he is going to escape a Froggy in the water so I turn to the remaining Gnoll warriors and deal a little mayhem. I am just in time to see Brand cleave right through the sword of one of the Gnolls and continue on through its skull. Taking the top of its head right off!. Unfortunately, on his return stroke at the second fighter, the axe slips from his hand. Describing a flashing green arc, out over the lake. Splash!!!

I then learn a few words that he had picked up in Freeport:-  $%^*&*&%$£"[ed. Children might read this, so the sentences have been deleted].

With the warrior's dead, I follow Agripa into the murky water. Unfortunately I somehow got turned around and could not find them. I also looked for Brands axe but could find neither hide nor hair of it.

Returning to the lakeside I was in time to see Rolf and Dougal holding off a pair of warriors that had crept up on our position. Brand reached them before me and quickly dealt with them.

There is still no sign of Agripa!

A wide ledge follows the lake side, gradually rising to another tunnel entrance. From this entrance two Gnoll archers appear and start firing at us. Gwyn and I charge them while Brand gives us covering fire and Heulwyn bespells them.  Reaching them with only minor injuries we quickly teach them how to be better Gnolls. Wiping the blood and gore off my uluk on one of their corpses, I glance into the next chamber. It is very large [lucky for me] because entering on the far side are about twenty warriors and they don’t look very happy.

There is no way we can defeat these in an open fight. Quickly thinking back to area we have traveled the best I can come up with is the bend in the passage as it enters the lake cavern. They would only be able to come at us four abreast and the bend would prevent them using archers.

With that not so comforting thought I was haring back down the ramp screaming at the top of my voice for the others to get back to the bend. Fortunately they understood me and hotfooted it to our chosen position. I could hear the howls of the Gnolls close behind me. But worse, I could see Agripa swimming for the lakeside.  Unfortunately there was no way he was going to make the passage before the Gnolls. 

Hopefully he would stay out of the way until I had lured them into the passage and they could not gang up on him.

Seconds ahead of the slavering hoard we reach the party and turn to confront our pursuers. Brand, Gwyn and I stood in the front rank. Heulwyn behind us ready to use the little mana he had left to cure us. Rolf and Dougal behind him ready to take over when one of us fell.

And it looked as though this was going to be our last battle. We were very weary by this stage, with little mana to call on. We held them and held them. But then Heulwyn ran out of mana and our wounds were beginning to tell. Heulwyn took my place while I used the last of my mana to heal Brand a little and drink my last curing potion. We had halved their numbers at this stage but were gradually having to give ground. Once fully around the corner the passageway opened up and they could come at us six abreast.

Brand started to go berserk as his wounds mounted. I stepped back into the line and with the four of us there we briefly held them again. Rolf and Dougal were begging us to let one of them take up the burden, but they could hardly stand themselves let alone swing a sword.

Then help arrived! In the guise of a froggy paladin. Somehow he had found a waterway that linked with the snake pit, He had killed the snakes and leapt out, and was now there to help. With renewed vigour we pressed forward again and though they still battled hard right to the end, we could see that they had lost all hope of defeating us. And so it proved, barley able to stand we were triumphant!

With a short fifteen minute rest to meditate and regain a tiny amount of mana. Enough to heal some of our wounds, we headed again for the surface………………………………………………………….

The way out was fraught with peril. All the traps had been reset, [we found this out by Brand tripping one] and by the occasional small party of Gnolls returning to the Burrow. But as long as they came at us in small groups we could deal with them. Fortunately they were not at the front of the queue when the gods dealt out intelligence.

We exited the Burrow in the evening and made haste to put as much distance between it and us as we could. In the early hours of the morning the temperature started to plummet. A sure sign that we were going to have a blizzard. Brand and I kept our eyes out for the tell tale signs of a Northman snowhole.

These are havens hidden by the various clans to provide protection in the event of being caught out in such a storm as had now begun.

As the visibility got worse I spotted a familiar clump of boulders. Kailan had shown me these in my first year of training with him. Going ahead to dismantle the traps I bid the others wait until I signaled.

[It being taboo for outsiders to see how we protect these havens].

Calling the others forward, I climbed down the narrow ladder into the dugout. Several cots were set into the walls for sleeping and a small oil stove was set in the centre of the room. Two passageways lead off from the main area. One to a larder and the other, well I am not allowed to put that down on parchment. Even onto a diary that no one else will read. 

Having got the stove going, I extracted a promise from my companions that they would not move beyond the living room area and we settled down to wait out the storm.

Four days this took. It gave us ample time to heal and make running repairs to our equipment. Another fourteen days trek saw us back at Halas. We passed several patrols of Northmen out hunting Gnoll raiders, so our journey back passed without incident. 

In the city we were immediately shown into the presence of Joman, Oracle to the Tribunal. We were congratulated on our achievement and given a bag of 40 platinum pieces each. We were also given free training and access to new spells. The training was hard and extensive, taking over a month to bring us up to a level where our tutors thought we would not shame them. This also brought us to the start of the northern winter. Not a season where any sane person would travel without good cause.

So, of course, it was now that Heulwyn came to us and said he must go back to Freeport urgently. Well he had accompanied me north so I felt obligated to go south with him. The others reluctantly agreed to go with us.

Part of my new training has been in the use of the magical portals that join various parts of Norrath with the Plane of Knowledge. These portals look like stone books on stone lecterns and are dotted around the world. So one must journey to the Plane of Knowledge and from there, find the portal for the area one wishes to journey too. Simple, except that the nearest portal to Halas was a two days travel, in good conditions.

For the first day the weather held fair but on the second the wind started to pick up. It was one of those lazy Northern winds, too lazy to go around, so it went straight through you! We were beginning to struggle to stay upright and I was looking around for somewhere to camp when Brand shouted that he could see a light off to our right.

We staggered towards it hoping against hope that we would find shelter there. As we got closer we could see that the light was coming from a fissure in a glacier wall. Strange I do not recall such a feature on my travels, so we approach with caution.

At the entrance the wind is cut off and we feel better immediately. The entrance is over thirty feet high and twenty feet wide. The walls bear the marks of recent excavation. Ahead; a figure looms, at first I thought it was a statue. But as our eyes become accustomed to the light we can see that it is a giant.

At about eighteen feet tall, a small giant, but a giant never the less. Thank the gods it was dozing, leaning back against the wall. Also leaning against the wall is a great sword, over ten feet long [now that’s got to hurt].

The howling wind must have masked the noise we made thrashing through the snow and obviously he does not expect any sane person to be out in weather like this. That aside, we cannot go back out into the blizzard for we would surely die.  We will have to take this monster and any of his kin that are in the cave ahead.

Brand comes up with a plan [ I know! it surprised me as well]. The party is to hide in the debris at the base of the walls. I am to entice the giant outside [hopefully he will not raise the alarm if he only sees one assailant] then the party will attack from behind.

Did I mention that as part of my training I have been taught to use an Uluk in each hand? Sadly my second Uluk is just a bog standard one, but every little helps. Also, a spell I have learned allows Gwyn to, on occasion, magically bite with an electrical type damage attack.[ He is not very good at this yet but Kailan says that as he gets older he will be able to produce this effect more often].

So slowly and carefully I creep up on the giant.  I might as well not have bothered, for as I neared him he awoke, saw me and grabbed his sword. As soon as I saw him move, I high tailed it for the exit.

Closely followed by the giant.

A soon as I was buffeted by the winds I turned to face him. He looked a lot larger to me all of a sudden.

Still ,no going back now.

He swung and missed. I managed to hit him four times before he recovered from his first swing. Then he was surrounded by a halo of sparks. Gwyn had hamstrung him and the magical bite effect had occurred. Brand also slammed into him, followed by Agripa. The giant swung around and lashed out at Brand. Catching him off guard. Heulwyn immediately healed him. The fool had turned his back to me. Time to make giant Teriyaki. Slice, and Dice!

Before he could think to cry out he was falling. Once at ground level, Gwyn darted in and ripped his throat out. Once more the magical effect takes place, sparks fly and the monster is dead. 

We move back out of the wind and further into the cave. Past the giants guard post the cave branches left and right. To the left is a large dining area. Three ogres can be seen cleaning the floor and carrying out dishes[giant sized]. I am all for attacking but Heulwyn talks me into parlaying with them. I wait until one is by himself and go to speak with him. A bit of a waste of time. He does not raise an alarm or attack me but he has no concept of numbers. Other than the fact that there are more giants here and some sort of treasure it tells me nothing.

Going back to the others we take the left-hand tunnel and soon come to a large doorway. The sound of snoring can clearly be heard through the heavy wooden door. Slowly opening the door we can see another giant on a low trestle bed. By its side is a large sword.

Now we Northmen have a rule that we cannot kill a sentient being unless it has a weapon in its hand or chosen not to wield one. So I cannot just creep in and kill it in it's sleep.

Hmmm! What to do. Then it comes to me.

Creeping up to the bed, I slide the sword right under the bed. Then I slap my spare club into the giant's hand. It's hand closes on the weapon and it sits up. The letter of the law has been satisfied. It is awake and armed.

Wack! wack! wack! wack!. Four blows from my Uluks bring it fully awake. My companions pile in, and soon it is an ex giant.

Now the question is, what are the giants doing here, so close to Halas? Is this an old complex they just happened upon? Or have they been here for a long time spying on our lands? Or something even more sinister?…………………………………………………………………………………………………

After a quick search that nets us a few platinum pieces we head back, down the corridor. Turning right at the end we enter another corridor. This one is much better constructed. The floor is smooth and level and the walls vertical, with no tool marks to mar their surfaces. The ceiling, twenty feet above our heads is vaulted and regular. It has the feel of great age, possibly going back to the time when the giants enslaved us Northmen.

Ahead we can see another corridor branching off. We approach this quietly [or as quietly as we can with three of the party in half plate mail]. Gwyn softly growls, alerting me to danger. Glancing around the corner I see a pack of six massive wolves, sixty feet away. All, unfortunately, looking in my direction. I try to use my Beast Lore to calm them, but they have been trained to attack. And attack they do. Silently?

Not at all like natural wolves.

But natural or not they must die. We form our battle line to meet their charge. Agripa, Brand and myself in front. Heulwyn behind, ready to heal us and Gwyn attacking from the flanks, as the opportunity presents itself. But these wolves have not read the script. The pack leader leaps over our line and attacks Heulwyn. Well we cannot lose our healer, so I break off and go to the aid of the cleric.

Agripa and Brand hold off the five wolves while Heulwyn and I deal with the leader. It takes longer than I would have thought to dispatch it, but eventually it succumbs to our onslaught. Strangely, although I was dealing out much more damage than Heulwyn, not once did it turn to attack me. It was as though it was being driven to kill our priest.

When we turn to rejoin the combat, three of the wolves were dead. The others, however, continued to fight. Most strange! But, ultimately futile. Afterwards, examining the body's reveal that each wears a garnet studded leather collar. Underneath, the throats are scarred. It looks like some b**$£&*d  has cut the vocal cords to keep them silent. I am not amused at this as you can imagine. In fact, I am beginning to dislike these giants almost as much as I dislike Gnolls. 

Moving along we come to a strange looking room. The floor is slick with water. At the far end a chain has been stapled to the wall. At the other end of the chain is a large silver ring. As we watch, the chain moves away from us. Weird!

Agripa enters the room and hops over to the silver ring. As he reaches it, the liquid that covers the floor contracts and rises up behind him; like a giant slug. We shout out a warning and charge forward.

Too late! The creature strikes and totally engulfs the unlucky frogling.

When we reach the creature, we can see that Agripa is still alive and struggling in the gut of the monster. We set about the thing in a bid to free our comrade. It exudes an acidic slime through the pores of its skin that burns anything that it touches. We eventually do enough damage to it to make it

lose its cohesion and it falls into a liquid mass once more. This frees Agripa, battered but still alive.

Not wanting to leave without something to show for our endeavors, I grasp the silver ring in order to get it off the chain. Big mistake! It was trapped and brought a fair portion of the ceiling down upon us.

Brand and I managed to leap out of the way. Agripa and Heulwyn however,  were not so lucky. They were buried under the rubble.

We quickly set about digging them out but had not progressed very far when Gwyn warned us that trouble was near. Looking up we could see a giant approaching. Obviously alerted by the noise of the rock fall. Behind it we could see another just turning the corner at the far end of the corridor.

We have to deal with this one quickly, or we are in big trouble. Brand charges straight for it while Gwyn and I move to take it in a flanking position. For all its size, it is quite quick. It managed to hit both Brand and myself before we could close with it. But once we were inside the swing of its great sword we worked it over good and proper! With my new duel wielding skill I was able to hit it four times before it could recover from swinging its sword once at me.

We just managed to kill it before the second giant joined the fray. By this time Agripa had managed to dig himself out of the rock fall and join us. Which is just as well, for we were sorely wounded from the first one. With the four of us attacking from different directions, we managed to confuse it enough to avoid many of its blows. But it was still a close run thing. What tipped the balance was Heulwyn, finally managing to get out from under the rocks and casting a damage spell on the giant.

We spend the next five minutes casting every healing spell we have to close as many wounds as possible. We rest for a short while, meditating while Brand and Gwyn stand guard.

Then it is onwards down another long corridor. Gradually we begin to hear the sound of metal on metal, the sound of battle! Ahead we can see several doorways. Leaving the others I sneak forwards.

Behind one door comes the sound of battle. No noise comes from behind the next door. The third doorway is ajar. Peeking in, I see a weapons rack filled with giant size weapons. All except one, a human sized warhammer that fairly exudes magic. I rush in and grab the hammer.  Wrong! Of course it is trapped. A burst of fire envelops me. Fortunately it does little damage but the noise it makes is alarming.

Running back to my companions I am confronted by two Ogres in full plate armor and carrying two-handed swords. I mange to dodge around them and regain my group. The fools follow. We prepare to give them a warm welcome; when from the second doorway emerges another giant. This one in robes and carrying a scepter. It begins casting. Oh oh!

Sparks burst all around me and pain lances up my arms. I just manage to hang onto my weapons when the Ogres hit our line. Brand, Gwyn and I take one while Agripa and Heulwyn attack the other. These are tough and have some form of magical protection. While some of our blows hit, others that should have hit seem to slide past them without landing.

Brand is assailed magically next. More sparks and pain. But he is berserking now and nothing will stop him killing the ogre. Agripa, I can see, is in trouble. The ogre he is fighting is concentrating on him and most of Agrippa's blows are being magically diverted. With our ogre almost a corpse, I leap to his aid. But arrive just as he collapses to the floor. With Gwyn and I diverting the ogre's attention, Heulwyn manages to get off a healing spell on the fallen froglet. At that moment Brand joins us. Shortly thereafter the ogre dies. On seeing this, the giant cleric does not hang around for us to introduce him to our weapons, but magically 'Gates' to safety.

Again we must rest, to regain some mana, heal and then carry on.

The room that the Giant priest came from has the look of a chapel. An altar to the god Rallos Zek is set up in the far corner. This causes Brand some anxiety, as he is a worshiper of the mad god. But I manage to convince him that since Rallos Zek is the god of battle any fighting he does is a form of worship. Even against others of the same faith.

Searching the room we find a chest containing thirty bloodstones and a large key. In the armoury we further discover a magical ring. In a room near by we find a captive polar bear. This time I manage to convince it that we are not a threat and that we are here to free it. It also has a bloodstone-studded collar, but I have not pacified it enough to attempt to remove it. It ambles past us and makes its way to the exit. I just hope I have done the right thing by it.

At the back of the complex is a massive wooden door, covered with runes and closed with a chain and padlock. This door is old and starting to warp. Peering through a crack in the wood I see an amazing sight! A creature from the realms of fantasy. It has the body of a wingless dragon and the head and torso of a giant. It is holding a silver bladed two-handed sword that lights up the area around it in an otherwise darkened room.

What to do?

If it is locked in, it might be an ally. Or it might be the result of some horrible experimentation and be totally evil . So evil that even giants are afraid to loose it on the world.

What to do?

We discuss and argue for over an hour. We either have to free it or kill it. We cannot leave it locked up to die of starvation and thirst.

It must have heard us, for the next time I peer through the crack, it is closer and holding out his sword. On it I can see the symbol of the Tribunal, fairly pulsing with energy. No evil creature could possibly touch such a blade and not be incinerated. So without further ado we unlock the padlock and open the doors.

The creature thanks us, but will not give us its name, as names have power. He does reveal however that the giant cleric we encountered was its father and that he would hunt him down and deliver justice to him. Another mystery!

With the area cleared we rest for eight or so hours and then make our way to the entrance. When we get there, the storm has passed. So we make our way to the portal.

Taking the magical gateway, it is but a short journey to Freeport. I wish that I had known how to do this when I made my first journey there. It would have saved me many months of hardship and discomfort.

Our first stop is to the merchant quarter to sell the items we have found. Then it is on to the bank to store our gains. Then it's party time at the steel warrior's pub. Good food and good ale, time to rest and relax while Heulwyn does whatever he has come back to do…………………………………………….

Heulwyn is away for a whole week, giving Brand and I time to get properly drunk. So drunk in fact that at first I do not recognize Megan when she stops at our table. This is not good. I vaguely remember her hauling me to my feet by my beard and out into the street, much to the amusement of all in the pub.

Ahh! That Megan. She is almost as strong as a Northwoman and has a voice that can crack glass at twenty paces. But the fun we had making up, made it all worth while. Even if I have to braid my beard into a fork shape to disguise the handful of hair that she pulled out. On second thoughts it looks quite good, sort of piratical. Some of the gypsy wenches have commented favorably on it, so maybe I will keep it this way while I am in the south. Of course it would not do in my homeland, I would just end up having to kill someone who laughed or accused me of adopting soft southern ways.

On the morning of the seventh day Heulwyn sent me a message, stating that he had completed his business and would be dining at the Hogcallers Inn this evening and would I join him. He also wrote that Brand and Aerberon would be attending. Attending! Sounds kind of posh for a plate of pork and several dozen ales.

And Aerberon! when did he get back in town? Still it will be good to see the Shadow Knight, he tends to make things so unnecessarily complicated that they invariably fall apart. Sometimes with humorous results but you can guarantee, never a dull moment with him around.  I wonder how Brand will react, now that he has been out of Aerberon's influence for a while?

That night at the Inn we had a pleasant meal and were discussing what we were going to do next. We had left the investigation of the Cult in the city unresolved.  Aerberon wants us to go chasing after a Giant and some Orcs who are attacking caravans in the Common Lands, but the pay is only a few gold pieces. Brand is very suspicious of this claiming that our fee should be much greater since we are now an experienced adventuring band. He even wanted us to take a group name, Brands Bravos' or some such. [ No way! I thought].

Brand and Aerberon were arguing back and fore; just as it was getting interesting [ I thought they were actually going to come to blows]. The door to the inn was thrown open and an Elf staggered in, blood pouring from his throat. Heulwyn rushed to his side, but he was too late. I ran outside to try to find the murderer. At first I could see nothing. Then, a movement at roof level drew my attention. Some sort of creature was flying or leaping from roof top to roof top.

Pointing this out to my companions, who had just joined me, I gave chase.

With Gwyn at my side we pounded along the streets trying to keep the creature in sight. Eventually, the thing leads us to the affluent part of town. Large houses in ornate grounds, many with their own guards at the gates. Which makes our destination all the more peculiar. A large house in keeping with those around it, but in a sad state of repair. Totally unlike those around it. The gates are rusty, the garden overgrown. Paint is peeling from the veranda and tiles are missing from the roof. In fact the creature enters the house through a gaping hole in the roof.

Approaching the house I can see that the once ornate wooden door is now cracked and warped. The brass door furniture, tarnished and the iron hinges almost rotted through. I hammered on the door with my fist, with no result.  Brand attempted to pick the lock, but it was frozen solid with rust.

So it was time to employ my patented, all purpose door key, or Boot; as we Northmen call it. 

Inside, thick dust covers what once was an opulent hallway. A doorway is set into both walls and a grand staircase rises from the end of the passage. An unpleasant odor pervades the air around us and all is dim until Heulwyn causes a magical light to appear. In the sudden glow, rats scurry for their holes in the skirting boards and multi-legged insects disappear into cracks in the plaster. Fungi and moulds sprout from every surface, decay is all about us.

Brand opens the left hand door. Inside, a circular table stands in the centre of the room. On it lies a large tome. In the corner is a large, dust covered chest. The only other thing of note is a stone carved fire place.

The others seem reluctant to enter the room. Having no such compunction, I enter. Crossing to the table I open the tome. Strange writings cover the page and small sketches have been drawn in the margins. None of them pleasant to look upon. It seems necromantic, but whether it is inimical or just not nice I will leave up to the clerics to find out. Slamming it shut I put it in my satchel.

Turning, I see Brand studying the chest with Aerberon close behind him, watching his every move. After few minutes, Brand declares that the chest is free of traps. But both he and Aerberon are reluctant to open it. I too have the strangest urge to leave it well alone. This is intolerable, no-one controls my mind!

So, fitting actions to thought, I fling open the lid of the chest. A cloud of white dust flies up into the air. Before I can stop myself I have inhaled some of the noxious particles. At once my lungs start to burn.

I start coughing and spluttering, trying to catch my breath and missing.

Heulwyn casts the spell Cure Poison on me, but it has no effect. He then tries Cure Disease and the pain subsides and I can breathe once again. What a relief!

Aerberon looks into the chest and turns quite pale. Looking over his shoulder I see what appears to be the head of a mummy, lying all alone in the chest.

"It must be burned, at once" he said.

Well he is our expert on this sort of thing, so I agreed.

We dragged the chest over to the fire place. It was too large to fit into the grate, but hopefully it being this close to the chimney the smoke will be drawn upwards and not into the room.

Dousing the skull with lamp oil we fire it up. At once noxious smoke billows into the room. Blast!

We are forced out into the corridor by the smoke and slam the door behind us. Surprisingly no smoke seeps under the door. Strange!

Aerberon opens the door. The room is clear, no smoke at all!

We cross over to the chest. Inside the skull is undamaged. Spooky. This is beyond our skills to sort out we will have to get Heulwyn's elders to deal with it. Meanwhile we decide to search the rest of the mansion.

The door opposite is easily opened. It is bare, but for a large cupboard. Aerberon enters and opens the cupboard door. A body falls out nearly knocking him over. The smell is indescribably foul. He staggers back and clutches at his chest. From the body large white grubs emerge and slither towards him.

"Rot Grubs!" Heulwyn shouts. "Get him out of there!"

Brand and I drag him out while the cleric casts an area effect spell and destroys the remaining grubs.

Aerberon is thrashing about and moaning. We can see his flesh mounding and moving as some of the grubs burrow into him.

"Get his armor off and hold him down. This is going to hurt like the very devil" said Heulwyn.

We do so as the Shadow Knight tries to tear at his skin.

Using a thin bladed knife the cleric probes and cuts into each entry wound. Eventually pulling out a wriggling, many toothed, grub; as long as my index finger. Each one is burnt over a candle and the wound cauterized. Six grubs in all are pulled from Aerberon's struggling body. After the fourth he faints, which is a blessing and makes the clerics task easier. Once the last grub is extracted the priest goes into his healing chant and the wounds fade to nothing.

A short while later the Shadow Knight awakens, seemingly none the worse for his ordeal. Except for, maybe, a wild look in his eyes as he dons his armor. Checking every nook and cranny for any unwelcome visitors.

Carefully climbing the stairs we come to a landing. Several doors are broken open leading to deserted bedrooms. In the last I see the faint figure of a woman weeping. I go over to her and ask what is wrong and she just fades away. Aerberon lifts the blankets. Underneath which, we see the corpse of a woman; dead for several weeks. Yeuk!

Further along the landing we enter a ballroom [at least that is what Heulwyn calls it, though I cannot see any balls, so how does he know. Strange folk these southerners, as maybe I have said before, having a large room devoted to ball games]. In the middle of the room a pentagram has been carved into the wooden floor. In the centre of which stands a blood red candle, as long as my arm and as thick as my thigh, still burning!

Dark brown stains color the floor in many places.

Heulwyn fearlessly crosses the pentagram and blows out the candle. Calling on his god to bless the area.

At the far end of the room is another door, scarred and battered.

Brand opens this door and three creatures like large black bats fly into the room and attack us. They are the size of small children with fanged elongated mouths and sharp taloned feet. This shouldn’t take to long I thought and we set about them.

But the best laid plans, as they say. Our weapons have no effect on them! They hit, but just bounce off. They are hurting us and we cannot touch them. This is very bad! Spells seem to work, but our damage spells are weak and do not slow these creatures down.

Then Heulwyn calls to us that the candle has re-lighted itself. To which Aerberon replies "Well blow the +**&$Ng thing out then!" he has such a way with words.

Once the candle is put out our weapons take effect and we carve two of them into itsy bitsy chunks. The third however, badly wounded, flies into the adjoining room and out into the night; through the hole in the roof. Blast!!!!

Going back into the ballroom, the dead bat creatures have become dead dwarves. Were Bats, that’s a new one on me. A search of the room reveals a dusty pack [this magically reduces the weight of things carried in it] and a Bear Tooth necklace.

Heulwyn leaves to report to his elders and Aerberon says he will tell the Steel Warriors guild. Me,  I am going to see Megan.

The next afternoon we all meet up at the Grub and Grog again. Heulwyn tells us that the house we visited had been in good repair and occupied as late as last week. Some inimical magic had caused it to decay at an unusually fast rate. The necromantic spell book was not of itself evil so we gave this to Aerberon. And after much discussion we decided that we would travel to the Grand Bazaar across the Common Lands, and, if we see this giant and his Orc cronies we would deal with them. But that we would not go out of our way for the pittance we were being offered.

We set off the next morning. Once the city was out of sight Aerberon called forth his new pet. Larger and stronger than his last one. But still pretty puny when compared to Gwyn. That evening after we had made camp he went through some elaborate ritual. When questioned as to its significance, he would say nothing.

In the morning it became all too clear what he had been doing. Into camp wandered a black, gaunt looking horse.  There was something not quite right about this creature. I felt it, Gwyn felt it and Heulwyn looked on it with absolute loathing and disgust.

I tried to contact it mentally. It turned to look at me, its eyes completely black, blank of all expression  and opened its mouth. Large canine teeth glinted in the morning sunlight. This was no horse but a monster, a carnivore. The Shadow Knight had summoned his Unholy Steed!

After much grumbling about whether it was wise or not to have such a creature with us, we traveled on. For four days we traveled unhindered. No sign of either Orcs or giant. As evening was drawing near and Aerberon was walking alongside his steed, to ease his aching butt, I spotted a dot in the air in the far distance. I called a halt and asked Aerberon for a lone of his far seeing tube. Looking through this the dot resolved itself into a griffin.

Now I know that griffins have marvelous eyesight and that they have a craving for horse flesh.

[My master told me that this is the reason why there are no wild horse herds on Norrath. They hunted them to extinction. The only horses around now are the domesticated variety and there are precious few of those].

Even as I looked, the griffin changed direction and headed straight for us.

As the griffin came within range Aerberon loosed off and arrow which missed. Heulwyn loosed off a spell that did some damage. Brand drew back on his bow and snapped his bowstring. Doh!

The creature swoops in, raking Aerberon's steed and flying on. I just have time to slice it with my uluk before it is out of range.

It arcs over and swoops in again. Once more attacking the horse thing.

The Shadow Knight drains some of the griffin's life energy and passes it on to his mount as healing but not enough to close all its wounds. Brand hacks at it with his sword and I with my uluk. Once more it climbs into the air.

This is getting us nowhere we are hardly touching it. Time for some drastic action. This time as it dives I embrace the spirit of the tiger and spring onto its back. It had also changed tactics. This time it had grabbed Aerberon's mount and was climbing into the sky with it.

I grabbed hold of its mane and attacked its shoulders where the powerful wing muscles link to the fore-leg muscles. Trying to avoid its beak, I struck! and struck! as we climbed higher and higher.

Something had to give, thankfully it was the griffin. It let go of the horse creature and spiraled down to the ground. We hit the ground hard, but not half so hard as Aerberon's mount did. With the griffin stunned by the impact it was relatively easy to reach round, cut its jugular and put it out of its misery.

When the rest of the party arrived, the horse thing was just a pile of bones; rapidly rotting away before our very eyes. And a good thing, thinks I.

Aerberon is not a happy Shadow Knight. Apparently he will not be able to summon another such mount for a year and a day. Shame!

With dusk rapidly falling we moved on for another mile and make camp. To-morrow as they say, is another day. But this does not console Aerberon……………………………………………………..

The next day we travel on. Aerberon, constantly complaining about the demise of his mount. Bemoaning the fact that he has now to walk like a peasant.

I just refrain from pointing out that until four days ago he too always walked. Why make the poor sod feel worse. If we let him ramble on now, maybe he will get it out of his system and not twitter on for days about the damned beast.

Later that day we encounter a strange old codger. Says his name is Vuli Greenwhisper and that he is a Ranger on the hunt for a rabid Dark Elf wizard and his Troll warrior side kick. Apparently they have been cutting a swathe through the Commons, killing and pillaging as they went.

He also has news of the Giant and his Orc minions. He claims that they are raiding in the far north of West Commons, so we are unlikely to encounter them.

He accompanies us for the rest of the day and at dusk brings down a gazelle with his bow [ a truly magical weapon if ever I have seen one]. In the morning, when we awake, he has gone! No one saw him go, not even Gwyn! Yet another mystery.

In the afternoon we top a rise and see the ruins of Plague Town, except that they are no longer ruins!

The stockade has been repaired as have some of the buildings. Three figures appear to be digging a pit in front of the gates to the town. There is something strange about them, but I can't put my finger on it.

Following the trail down to the town we get within hailing distance of them and call out. As soon as they look in our direction we can see what is wrong. They are undead! Ghouls!

Instantly Heulwyn raises his holy symbol and bids them take a hike in the name of Rodcet Nife. And all three run into the town.

On the towers, either side of the gate way, movement can be seen. Skeletal archers shoot down at us. We are trapped in the open, if we run we will be shot in the back. The only way is forward. So with Brand covering us with his bow and Heulwyn with his spells we charge into the town.

Ahead, from a barn like building, several skeletons are pushing out  a large wheeled balista [ed. Giant Crossbow]. Not wanting to be in the path of such a monster when it is fired, we split left; to take out the archers in the tower there. More skeletons try to impede our progress, but we soon deal with them.

We climb onto the wall walkway and are confronted by several more skelly's , they can only come at us two at a time and are no match for us. By the time we reach the tower Brand and the cleric have dealt with the archers in the other. It is a matter of moments to clear the tower of its skeletal infestation and take in the view of the town.

The ballista is being lined up on the tower we are in. In the darkened doorway of the barn I can just make out a figure gesticulating in our direction. Dark smoke issues from his hand and heads towards us surprisingly quickly. It engulfs Aerberon, but he shrugs off the effect.

Another bloody Necromancer! Wonderful! Why me gods?

Before the ballista can be fired at us we leap to the ground and head off at a tangent to the main street. Keeping the houses between us and the siege engine we make our way towards the barn. We creep inside hoping to surprise the spellcaster, but it is us who are surprised. The doors slam shut behind us and we are assailed by six skeletons, wielding rusty long swords. These are much tougher than your normal run of the mill skeletons and we are hard pressed for a while. To top it all, smoke starts seeping under the door. The b&£$&£*s have fired the barn!

Once we have dealt with the skelly's it is time to find a way out. Problem, all the exits have been nailed shut and they are to thick to batter down in the time we have. Coughing and spluttering, tears streaming from our eyes we climb the ladder to the hayloft above. There is a skylight and a small doorway that the hay is loaded into the building from. Both look quite flimsy. Aerberon elects to leave by the roof and I by the hay hatch. Smashing the door open with my boot Gwyn and I leap to the ground catching the two skeletons feeding wood onto the fire completely by surprise. Exit two skelly's.

Looking down the street I can see Heulwyn in combat with a ghoul, while Brand has just been knocked to floor by another. Caught unawares while he was fighting a skeleton by the looks of things. The ballista has been abandoned.

No sign of Aerberon.

Running to the combat I can see that Heulwyn is in a bad way. The ghoul's poison has him immobile.

I reach him just as the ghoul is going for the killer blow. Our turn to catch them unawares for a change. Barreling into the ghoul, Gwyn and I smash it to the ground. And with Gwyn pinning it to the ground I introduced it to the concept of being dead again.

Spinning around to go and help Brand, I see that such help is no longer necessary. He has dispatched his opponents and is looking around for the Necro. To no avail, he has done a bunk like the cowardly scum he is.

A short while later we are joined by Aerberon, he is looking very smug but says nothing. He is up to something or has found something and does not wish to share. Either way I will leave him to his petty conceits.

A thorough search of the town reveals nothing more other than the Necromancers summoning circle. At this Aerberon goes quite pale. It contains the symbol of his god!

Oh oh! I do hope he has not upset the hierarchy of his church [not!]

A few more days finds us in the grand bazaar. Even here most things are outside our price range. Where do people get all the platinum pieces to pay for things like this? I can afford some magical boots that give the wearer magical armor protection and the upgrade spell to increase the power of my warder. As for the rest I will just have to find more money…………………………………………….

We were just sitting down for a quiet pint after a hard day training and looking for bargains in the bazaar when Brand spotted a familiar face making its way towards us. It was Puntar Sandfisher from the Northman sea village, in the Northern Desert of Ro.

He had been sent, he said by his mother Kerras, to enlist our aid in a problem they have. Apparently, a short while ago a group of Hobgoblins took over a disused manor house, abut a mile from their village. They sent some of their warriors to evict them but none returned. They suspect foul magics as  Gobbos, even Hob Gobbos, could not normally stand up to Northmen Warriors.

The mansion had once belonged to a Paladin of Mar, who was much loved in that area. He had gone on the crusade of Marr's Fist and never returned. The house was kept untenanted, as a sort of shrine to his memory.

Well of course both Heulwyn and I immediately volunteered. Brand came around to our view but Aerberon was hard to convince, until Puntar said that the village would give us one hundred gold pieces each to attempt this task.

It would be a fourteen-day journey, so we started shopping for supplies immediately. Not having planned to go into the desert there were quite a few things we needed to get.

Our journey through the caves linking the Common Lands to the Desert of Ro took most of the next day. Fortunately, some long dead civilization had lighted the rout with natural gas torches, which have burned continuously for as long as records have been kept. A great boon to the common traveler who does not have low light vision.

The journey across the desert should have been without incident. ( no, honestly, it should have been) We had traveled the route before. We knew which area’s to avoid, so it should have been a cakewalk.

But of course I was not including Aerberon in my calculations. At our first daylight camp [baring in mind, we were traveling at night to avoid the heat], while on watch he started studying the necromantic tome we had found in the decaying house in Freeport.

Pointing out to him stupidity of becoming engrossed in a book, while he was supposed to be alert to any dangers, did me no favors. He spent the rest of the watch marching up and down pointing out various features and asking me if they were dangerous. [Childish I call it!].

I was glad to wake Brand and Heulwyn to start their watch. At least now I might now get some peace.

Wrong!!

Aerberon plumped himself down on the sand and started reading his book aloud. I was just on the point of getting up and thumping him around the ears, when, the sands under me began shifting. Skeletal hands were reaching up to grab us. Leaping to my feet and shouting out a warning to the others, I drew my weapons. I could see that this affect was happening in a perfect circle about ten feet in radius. Centered on, you’ve guessed it?, Aerberon!

Dealing with them, before they are fully out of the ground, is a fairly simple matter. We then suggest politely, you understand, that Aerberon desist from using the book until he knows what the f*$£, he is doing.

But you might as well try talking sense to a Kobold. At our next camp, while Brand and Heulwyn were on watch, he removed himself a little way from the camp on the pretext of a call of nature. He then managed to summon up a fully formed skeleton. Not the wimpy things he can call as a pet. But a died in the wool, red eyed, magic resistant, fire using ,mad, skeleton!

It’s screams echoed around the camp [Aerberon assured us that it was the skeleton that was screaming] as we ran to his assistance. A mighty blow by Brand eventually shattered it into its component bones.

Brand then walked up to Aerberon and thumped him straight in his un-armored chest. He went down like a soufflé’ in a blizzard. There were also some threats about tying his arms and legs in knots if he read the book one more time on this journey.

Strangely, these threats worked and the following twelve days pass without incident. Arriving about an hour before dawn, we settle down to wait for the gates to the village to be opened at dawn.

The villagers are glad to see us and take us straight to the mayor, Kerras [ she was apparently an ex warrior adventurer].

The situation had not changed. A band of Hobgoblins were still ensconced in the old paladin’s residence. Scouts have been unable to estimate how many are there, but they are sure they have a spell caster with them.

The mansion is set on a cliff above the sea. So, we thought we would approach it tonight, under the cover of darkness, by boat. Hopefully, since all of the scouting has been done by land, they will not have a good lookout on the ocean side of the building.

We eat a hearty breakfast, before preparing for our first sleep in a bed for two weeks. This involves a bath in the sea with a quick sluice down with fresh water. Brand has been chatting to the new barmaid, and; wonder of wonders, they go off to his room together.

It seems that I have just dropped off to sleep, when I am awoken by a scream. Pausing only to throw on my kilt and grab my weapons, we  [Gwyn, my wolf warder and I] go to investigate.

In the corridor I find Aerberon, sword in hand, opening Brands door. Out of it runs the new barmaid, tears streaming down her face. Thinking the worst, I step into the room. There is a sickening, putrid smell permeating the air. On the bed lies brand, naked [not a pretty sight at the best of times, I can assure you]. He is covered in black, suppurating sores. Sweat is pouring from him. Some sort of virulent pox has taken him. This could be the work of the Hobgobbo spellcaster.

Shouting for Heulwyn, I go to find the barmaid, to see if she is infected also. I find her in the arms of Bella the owner, being comforted.  Her skin from what I can see [ and I can see most of it ] is unblemished.  Bella gets her to talk, although we only find out that they had made love, fallen asleep and she had awakened when Brand started thrashing around in a fevered dream. It was her scream that had awakened me and the rest of the party.

Heulwyn arrives after casting his healing magics on Brand and confirms my suspicion that the barmaid is clear of infection. The warrior however, will be laid up for a couple of days even with the aid of priestly magic. So we settle down to wait for Brands recovery.

This takes two days. That evening we set off in a fishing boat. Hugging the coast, we round the headland and see the mansion on the cliffs above. In  the bay below is a jetty, with a boathouse built into the cliff. Paddling quietly we approach. The jetty itself is made of old rickety wood. Well past its replacement date.

The moonlight illuminates a submerged cave entrance next to the boathouse. Telling the others to stay with the boat, I slip over the side and swim into the cave. The underwater passage is thankfully quite short and emerges into a cavern. There is a small shingle beach leading to a stone ledge. A tiny lantern illuminates this ledge. Swimming closer I can see three figures lying beside it and a hole in the wall leading from it.

Emerging silently from the water I sneak forward. The figures are Froglocks. Two obviously dead the third very near it. Beside them is rubble from the broken wall and couple of picks and shovels. Inside I can see a plinth. Whatever was on it, is gone!

Summoning up the only healing spell I know, I try to revive the Froggy. But he dies in my arms.

Boom!

The noise of a distant explosion thrums through the rock. I dive back into the water and swim for the entrance.

Boommmmm!!

I can actually feel the vibration of this explosion, through the water.

I exit the cave and see my party in the boat tied to the jetty. As I near it, I see that the third figure is not Aerberon but someone I have not seen before. “Where the devil has the little Shite got to now”, I remember thinking.

Then,

Bang!!!!

Fire erupts from the doorway to the boathouse, jarring loose some of the wooden planks on the jetty.

Staggering out of the boathouse and nearly falling in the water is Aerberon. His clothes are in tatters, his magical cape is barley recognizable as such and his backpack seems to have disintegrated. He has definitely seen better days.

He was in a rage. His skeleton pet, he told us had set off a trap on a stone chest. Not giving any further explanation he goes back inside and we were perforce, obliged to follow. The boathouse was empty. At the far end, a set of stairs had been cut into the cliff. Next to the stairs was, what had once been a secret room, which had been recently opened. Inside was an open chest and several corpses, blackened by the blasts.

Coming down the stairs was a rather attractive Northwoman, with shamanistic totems hanging from her belt. Aerberon immediately knocks an arrow to his bow and was bringing it up to fire. Brand grabbed him before he could loose his arrow. He was still fuming.

The Northwoman tells us that her name is Helga and that her party had cleared the house. This puts the Shadow Knight into an even fouler mood, at the thought of his lost gold. We march up the stairs to the mansion. Which is free of Gobbo infestation. We then start climbing a narrow stone staircase to the upper floor. I am in front [yet again!] followed by Gwyn, then Brand, the stranger ( whom I have yet to be introduced to) Aerberon and Heulwyn next with Helga bringing up the rear.

As I reach the landing One of the bedroom doors is flung open and out squeezes an Ogre!  Trap!!!

It fills the corridor and I am constrained to just using my Uluk to fight and not my usual Uluk/mace duel wield combination. Heulwyn calls up to tell us that the Northwoman has transformed into and Ogress.

 Bugger!!

Nothing for it but to deal with my Ogre and clear a path for the others. So I press forward swinging, carving chunks off the thing and gradually forcing it back. This turns out to be a bad move. For as I come level with the doorway from which it emerged, the door opposite is thrown open and another Ogre attacks me from the flank.

F*^*!!!!!.

Gwyn does his best to distract this new menace but, with tightness of our surroundings, he is not that effective. Eventually I manage to force the Ogre even further back. At which time Brand is able to attack the second monster. All the while the Shadow Knight has been cursing up a stream. Wanting to kill something, yet being unable to get at any of our foes. I am concerned for Heulwyn. He is a great Priest but not the world’s best fighter. Still, nothing I can do about it at the moment.

The fight continues, a bloody business. I am starting to feel the effects of my numerous wounds. Even beginning to wonder if I am going to survive this fight. Thanks to the magic nature of my Uluk however, I am victorious, and within seconds the second Ogre succumbs to Brands gentle ministrations.

Heulwyn shouts out the  Ogre shaman has disappeared. Either ‘Gated’ or gone, ‘Invisible’.

With us all crowded into one bedroom, Heulwyn sets about curing us. He has many wounds of his own, but insists on curing us first. I am finally introduced to the stranger. Orm by name, and adventurer who came with some Froglock Paladins to clear this, to them, holy site. That done we thoroughly search the mansion. Other than finding the shrine to Mithanial Marr we find nothing. So, we settle down to rest and meditate.

As I take over the watch from Heulwyn, the sky to the east is briefly illuminated. A short time later the sound of an explosion assaults our ears. It came from the direction of the village. A minute later and the sky again flashes. This is not lightning but magic! “Back to the village” I shout.

Brand however thinks that it might be some kind of diversion to get us out of the house. So we agreed that he and Orm should stay and the rest of us would run to the village to see what was afoot.

Suiting actions to words, we armored up and started jogging eastwards.

Ten minutes later we could partially see what was happening. Human sized figures were attacking the stockade around the village. On a rise to the south a group of archers were firing fire arrows onto the roofs of the houses. Amongst them is a group of larger figures. One strangely familiar. “It’s the bitch Ogress”. snarls Aerberon .

We quickly decide to attack this group from behind. If we can kill the spell caster, then maybe the others will lose heart.

We work our way behind the group. But, at that point, the moon decided to emerge from the heavy cloud layer that was covering the battlefield. This of course shone off Aerberon's True Silver plate armour, like a lighthouse beacon. We were discovered. Six ogre warriors are sent to deal with us while the Ogress continues to cast fire on the village.

Some of the archers started peppering us with arrows. We closed with the Ogres, and a manic fight ensued. The archers continued to shoot at us. Which was pretty stupid, as they were doing more damage to the Ogres than us. Never, as I keep trying to tell Aerberon, never, fire into melee, especially at night. As you just as likely to hit friend as foe. To which he usually shrugs and says “So?”.

Anyway, I digress. Back to the battle.

We work our way through the Ogres, with the help of the enemy archers. Three more figures are sent into the fray to help out. I cannot believe my eyes when they get close. They are Northmen!  Helping Ogre scum! I cry shame on their house and their clan. But they have lost all sense of shame or even honor. As they refuse single combat and gang up on me. But they reckoned without Gwyn. Who attacked them from behind. Hamstringing one before he could reach me. The second was intercepted by Aerberon. The third fell to my Uluk!

We charge the archers, who turn out to be human [strange mix this] which would account for the poor quality of their shooting in the dark. As with spell casters when you are within arms reach most of their offensive capabilities are negated. Lightly armed and armored we went through them like a hot knife through blubber.

From our new vantage point we could see that the gates had been breached and there is fighting inside the village. A group have been left to guard the gate [from us I suspect]. I can see Kerras, still alive, but fighting three more Northmen warriors. There is no time to fight through the gates, so embracing the spirit of the tiger, Gwyn and I run down the hill to the stockade and leap over the wall.  Landing amongst some fierce street fighting. With our help the area is soon pacified and we run to the square, where the mayor is fighting. Unfortunately, as we get there, she is struck down. She had killed one and the second looked none too well. Calling challenge, Gwyn and I charged the pair. But these were cowardly evil scum. They plunged their swords into Kerras’ body as she lay there and then tried to run.

No way!

Running straight through some burning rubble we cut them off, and then cut them down.

Looking around, I saw the Ogress stalking Puntar, who seemed to be casting healing spells [ I never knew he could do that!]. She saw me at the same time and began making arcane gestures. Well I am not having any of that. Swiftly drawing one of my throwing axes, I let fly! Hitting her in the abdomen and putting her right off her spell casting. Meanwhile Gwyn had closed the distance between us and sank his teeth into her leg, trying to drag her down.  Again she tried to cast a spell  but now I was close, and my Uluk is faster than her spell. Result, dead Ogress.

With her death the fight goes out of the attackers and they attempt to flee. Many succeed, though quite a few are hunted down by Aerberon, who is in a berserk state and not willing to stop the bloodletting.

The butcher’s bill is high, most of the fighting men of the village have been slain, along with Kerras.

Heulwyn, although as tired as the rest of us, tries to bring them back from the dead with his holy magics. But these are Northmen, who died fighting. They are in the Halls of the Tribunal and most do not respond to his call to life. The only exception is Kerras. I suppose this is because she is responsible for the welfare of the village and her soul has decided her work is not yet done.

Exhausted, we still had to put out the fires and clear the dead from the village. The enemy dead were thrown into the sea for the crocodiles to feast on. The villagers were laid out ready to be burned in the traditional way. There is much sadness now in what was once a happy, thriving community. And I swear by the Tribunal and these dead before me, that if I find the people responsible, I will not rest until they have joined them in the after life!

Days of work follow. Repairing the gates, rebuilding houses, hunting for food.

To this end, I decide to kill two penguins with one rock. I still have not provided Megan with the crocodile teeth she asked me for. So I persuaded Heulwyn and Aerberon to go on a hunt with me. Brand would stay and help guard the village.

Strangely, a young lad of about eleven has taken to following Aerberon around. This perplexes the Shadow Knight as he is not the most charismatic person in the world. More so, as, when he approaches the lad he backs off and will not speak to him.

To cut a long story short, we kill two crocs but end up with no serviceable teeth for Megan. Ho hum!

So its back to the village with the meat and on with the repairs………………………………………   

The reconstruction of the village has been going on apace. All the salvageable dwellings have been repaired. Enough to house all the survivors of the attack, at any rate.

The stockade is nearing completion and the new gates have been manufactured and hung.

Our only worry now is the quarterly caravan from Freeport, bringing stores that cannot be grown or manufactured locally.  It is a week overdue and Kerras asks us to find out what has happened to it. She also provided us with a bag of gold and Dervish rings to pay for an additional caravan to replace what was destroyed in the battle.

Late that evening we set out, avoiding the heat of the day as usual. The young lad that has taken to following Aerberon about, tags along. Even though we explain that it could be dangerous.  He says nothing, just stares at us. As soon as we continue on, he follows. Strange!

The boy has equipped himself with a cloak, backpack and a rusty knife and is intent on journeying with us it seems.

Ah! It is good to be back in the desert again. Away from all the trappings of civilization and the need to observe all the niceties of society. Out here, no one cares how you talk, only how you act. Respect must be earned not bought with shiny pieces of gold. It’s almost as good as being back on the tundra.

And then there is the entertainment, Aerberon and Heulwyn arguing over an amulet that the Ogress shaman wore. Aerberon is all for putting it on, without any research and trying to activate it. Swearing that it is a necromantic item and unusable by clerics. Heulwyn is equably voluble in stating that the hierarchy of the church, to ensure that it has no malevolent properties, must test it first. Lots of big words there, not sure what some of them mean however. Still, it is fun to listen to them arguing back and fore, as I scan the desert ahead for any signs danger or the belated caravan.

Brand and the lad bring up the rear of our little party. The big warrior is chatting to the boy nineteen to the dozen. Sometimes the youngster nods or shakes his head, but no word does he speak.

Towards dawn on the second day, as I am starting to look for somewhere to camp, I spot some odd bumps and lumps in the desert floor ahead. I stop the party and carefully scan the area. Looking for signs of an ambush. Seeing nothing, we slowly make our way to the group of bumps. Weapons drawn, we circle the area. Apart for some scavenger tracks, I see nothing to alarm us. Closing in, we brush away some of the sand. We have found the caravan, or what is left of it. The desiccated remains of the drivers sprawl beside the broken carts. The contents of which are missing.

I begin a spiral search of the area, in a vane hope of spotting some tracks. But I have no luck. Several days of desert winds have covered any signs that might have led me to the attackers.

Meanwhile Aerberon has been using some of his necromantic spells to speak with dead. All we glean however is that the caravan was attacked by wind, undead and something called the Dark Eye. This means nothing  to us. So it is on to Freeport to arrange for another caravan and to report this disaster.

It takes a further seventeen days to get to the city. Apart from seeing the usual desert inhabitants our passage is uneventful. We split up on entering the gate. I to report to the city militia. Heulwyn to go to his church. Brand. Aerberon and the boy [we will have to give him a name] to the Steel Warrior guild house to do whatever it is they do there. We arrange to meet at the Hog Callers Inn, in for supper.

It does not take me long to report the loss of the caravan. Then it is out to the gypsy encampment and a delightful reunion with Megan. We have lots to talk about, amongst other things.

Exhausted but very happy we meet the others at the Hog Callers. Over a substantial meal of Mammoth Meat Pie and ale we discuss our options. Inquiries about The Dark Eye have drawn a blank, not that I have spent much time enquiring you understand.

In the end we decide to rest and train for a few days. Then, we plan to hire a new caravan and escort it ourselves. Hoping to flush out the raiders and retrieve the stolen goods. It takes all the gold and Dervish rings we were given, to hire and supply a caravan of three wagons plus their drivers. A gnome mage and a shifty looking Half Elf wanted to hire on as guards, but we decided against bringing in any outsiders for security reasons.

I bid a fond farewell to Megan and somewhat reluctantly head back to the Northman Sea Village.

We have been in the desert for two days now. The ox drawn wagons set an excruciatingly slow pace. This vexes Aerberon no end, which in turn  amuses Heulwyn by an equal amount. On the dunes to our west, I just make out a small party paralleling our course. We hold a quick conference and decide not to wait to be attacked but to see if we can surprise them for a change. To this end we make our dawn camp in a shaded hollow and with the drivers moving about, setting up tents, cooking etc. We slip away from the camp and circle around, to where I anticipate the raiders will rest up before attacking our sleeping camp.

It works perfectly. We come upon them about a mile from where we had stopped. Their only lookout was busy keeping an eye on our camp. The rest, nine in  all, were cat napping or repairing broken gear. We fall upon them silently, catching them totally unawares. Within seconds half their number lay dead  at our feet and the others are hard pressed.

Dervish scum!

They ask for, and we give, no mercy. The desert will be a slightly safer place because of their deaths.

Only the lookout has a chance to get away. But with my new “Warder Enhancement” spell Gwyn is much faster and soon runs him down. It is at this point that we notice a haze over the desert where our camp should be. I have a bad feeling about this! We race back to the caravan. As we get close, we are assailed by swirling winds driving sand into every crevice of our bodies. Then, as suddenly as it started the wind dropped! 

Coughing and spluttering we make our way into the camp. It is half buried in the sand. Two of the drivers are dead and the other is in a bad way. The wagons have been stripped of all their goods and the oxen slaughtered and seemingly drained of blood. Damn!

While Heulwyn starts his curing chants and Brand and Aerberon stand guard, I start moving out from the camp, looking for tracks. Close in, of course, any tracks will have been covered by the sandstorm. But the storm was localized. So I have great hopes of finding the B&**”!£$s who did this and taking out my ire on their hides. After about two hundred paces, the sand is undisturbed and in only a little while I have the spoor of the enemy in sight.

I head back to the camp to find that Heulwyn had worked his magic and the driver is fully recovered.

He has told the others that the wind had suddenly sprung up and in the gloom undead had attacked them and carried off the cargo. Strange! Why would undead want material goods? We remade our camp and cooked some food. After a couple of hours rest to recover from our night march and combat we set out, to get our goods back and reek a terrible revenge on our unknown enemies. Or in Aerberons’ more colorful language “Lets’ go kill the buggers!”.

Following the tracks is easy. They have made no attempt to hide them. The trail leads us about three miles into the sand sea. We eventually come to a stone blockhouse with no apparent widows or doors.

The tracks lead right up to the wall and disappear. We search vainly for an hour to find a way in.

Aerberon then suggests, that the structure might be the top of a buried step pyramid and that if we dig down a ways we might find a door. Bloody silly idea! None of us want to do this, it’s much too hot. I am all for battering a hole in the wall on the shady side. This however brings forth no enthusiasm from the others either. We are at an impasse. Heulwyn then suggests to Aerberon that he excavate the area where the tracks disappear into the wall. And blow me down, Aerberon starts digging! 

We all watch in amazement as he works away for about two hours, digging away at the loose sand and then; in even more amazement, as he slowly uncovers a stone doorway. When the doorway is cleared we search for an opening mechanism, but have no luck. So the only method left open to us is, brute force and ignorance. Brand smashes in the door with his magical spiked mace. Even with his great strength it takes some time to clear enough of the door to allow us to enter. This of course makes a hell of a lot of noise.

We prepare to be attacked as soon as we enter. Nothing happens. Hmmm! Spooky.

We enter a cube like room with a wide stairway, heading down, set in the centre of the floor. Hieroglyphs of strange serpent like creatures have been carved into the wall and then painted in amazing colors. Greens and gold predominate.

The stairs themselves are wide, and the risers are much shallower than a normal stair created by human or dwarf would be. They are well worn in the centre as if they have been used for millennia.  Carefully we descend, testing each step before moving on. It gradually gets darker and darker. We are forced to light out lanterns.

At the bottom is a large, trapezoidal shaped, brass door. Set in the centre of the door is an embossed eye. Look as we may, we find no means of opening the door. I stand back and think for a while. Then, I notice, that whenever Aerberon approached the door the eye moves slightly.

Mentioning this to him, he starts waving his hand in front of the eye. Again it moves  a little, but no more than that. Finally he calls forth his skeletal companion. As soon as it approaches the door it slides open. Eureka!

Unfortunately, the other side of the door are two large skeletons, which proceed to pound his pet to bone dust. And, we in turn, convert them into the self-same bone dust. Grumbling about the waste of bone chips, Aerberon calls forth another skeleton.

A long corridor stretches off into the distance, lighted by wall sconces. Similar brass doors are inset into the walls either side of this corridor. As we pass each, what Aerberon calls a Dry Bone Skeleton emerges and we are forced to fight the whole length of the corridor. Fortunately they only come out one at a time.  At the end, the corridor splits, we are exhausted and decide to rest up in the next room we come too.

This happens to be quite different to any we have passed before. It has two, what appear to be, blue glass columns in it. A doorway is set into the wall at the opposite end of the room. Aerberon sends his pet forward to the door. As it approaches, the columns shatter and two Ice Elementals smash it to shards. This greatly annoys the Shadow Knight, who in an unusual display of bravery, rushes forward  attack them. Well I cannot let him take all the glory, so I charge in as well. Closely followed by Brand, Aerberon and my warder Gwyn. The young lad wisely stays at the doorway. These are tough creatures. Their attacks not only do normal damage but a numbing cold affects any areas they manage to hit. Fortunately, both Brand and I are somewhat protected by our upbringing from cold damage. By the time we have carved the Elementals into ice sculptures, we are near death ourselves. We need rest desperately and time to regain manna, so that we can cure ourselves. To this end we close and wedge the doors.

Fortunately, our rest is undisturbed. Fully restored, we check out the room beyond. It is empty! Why set guards to an empty room? It makes no sense. Aerberon's young companion, tugs at my sleeve and points to the wall. He pulls me forward and, with much gesticulation, eventually manages to show me the outline of a secret door. It is then I notice, for the first time. That he does not talk because he is shy, but because he has no tongue to talk with! This will bear some investigation at some future time. I seriously need to talk with who-ever did that to a child!

In the room beyond, is a nine-foot tall, copper statue of a snake like creature, with human arms. It is rearing/standing up. The arms are holding a large silver bowl in which  a glowing blue liquid can be seen. No one has any idea what this could be, or what we should do with it. In the end Brand dips an arrow into the liquid. When he removes it, it looks as though the tip were made of blue light. No liquid drips from it and it continues to glow after what I guess is about fifteen minutes of study. Indeed the mundane arrow now registers as magical to my manna tuned senses. Since no one else is inclined to experiment we decide to leave the room.

Working on the symmetry principal, we search the wall opposite and find another well-hidden door.

Inside this room is a similar statue, but this ones bowl contains a red glowing liquid. Again Brand dips an arrow into the fluid and again it comes out glowing the same color. He slides the arrow into his quiver.

Bang!!!

The quiver is blown from his back in a gout of flame and ice. Brand is thrown into the wall and concussed. His backpack, bow and quiver are totally destroyed. As are most of the contents.

When Heulwyn brings him round he is not a happy bunny. It seems that the two liquids must be kept apart!

We move on, encountering more skeletons of various types. Thank the Tribunal that they are too stupid to organize together or we would be swamped. But in small groups we carve our way through them. Moving deeper and deeper into the pyramid. Or, what we believe, is a pyramid.

We move into an area that is like a warehouse. Several connecting large rooms, in which we find our caravans goods along with many other cases, chests, barrels and sacks. We have a great time going through these. There are goods and weapons from many lands here, all of good quality. Brand replaces his bow, and takes two quivers of arrows as does Aerberon  While we continue to search, they go back and dip their arrows in the glowing liquids. Taking care of course to keep the arrows in separate quivers.

In the central room of this part of the complex we find another group of snake statues. Four of them, surround a large bronze hexagonal plaque set into the floor. Each has a hand pointing to the plaque. On it are inscribed letters, the like of which we have never seen.  

We move into one of the larger rooms and decide to rest. To this end we barricade the door and set watches, just in case. Within an hour the door shudders, then bursts inwards. Storming into the room is a Minotaur. The first living creature we have seen on this site. Brand and Aerberon greet it with their new arrows. Unsurprisingly, the red tipped arrows burst into flame and the blue causes the wounds they make to freeze. It is very strong and it  takes all our efforts to bring it down. We search it and find nothing of interest. Its only ornament is the hand of a skeleton, stitched onto a glove, on a thong around its neck. 

On my watch I get to thinking, and then it come to me. How does a living creature move from room to room down here if only undead can open the doors? Of course! The skeletal hand. Why did we not think of this before. Doh! We have been relying on Aerberon's pet all this time [ I really do not like having to rely on the Shadow Knight you know]

A couple of hours later we are again  disturbed. This time, by holes appearing in the walls from which six-foot high metal spiders appear. Dozens of them!. We move into a corner of the room and prepare to go down fighting. To our amazement, they ignore us. They pick up the boxes and carry them into the central statue room. Troop back out, pick up more boxes and so on. Finally they come out again and disappear into their holes, which close up again. Obviously, we go into the room. It is empty! That is the statues and plaque are still there but none of the boxes. There should be hundreds!

Moving back into our room we are assailed by a short mechanical creature. It shoots a jet of steam at Brand and myself. Blistering any exposed flesh. Needless to say we disassemble it in short order. But the pain from the blisters is excruciating. Heulwyn suggests that it was some sort of cleaning creature and was not really attacking us!  Bull!!  More rest, after Heulwyn uses a lot of manna to cure us. This time we finally manage to get fully rested and fighting fit.

Again we move down, more doors, more skeletons, more bone chips for Aerberon. Two however stand out. These doors have golden eyes. I try out the skeletal glove on this one and it works! Aerberon mutters something under his breath, it sounds very colorful but I will not repeat it here.  Inside is a sarcophagus, ornately carved with marble figurines about the base. Again, the walls of the room have been covered in hieroglyphs.

As the others prepare for the worst, Brand and I lift the lid of the coffin. It is occupied and angry. It sits up, Heulwyn calls out some magical words and Wham!! The thing explodes into dust.

“That is one of my new spells” he says, casually blowing on his fingers and looking inordinately pleased with himself. Looking through the remains in the sarcophagus we find several magical items and some gem stones. Heulwyn takes an amulet, Aerberon a pair of gauntlets, Brand a sword and myself a belt. Not sure what it does yet, but it looks good and I feel better for wearing it.

The other room turns out to be a copy of this one. But things do not go so well for us. Heulwyn's spell does not have such an awesome effect, and we are severely mauled by the creature before we kill it.

To make matters worse, there is nothing of value in the coffin.

Again we need to rest and meditate to regain manna.

More corridors, more fighting. At one point our way is blocked by a Gelatinous Cube, but the red arrows and some oil flasks soon clear it out of our way. However we must have missed a secret door somewhere for we can go no further. Deciding to back track we head back to the warehouse

Area, only to find it stocked with more boxes and chests. These have been marked with a stencil saying ‘Shadow Haven’ Hmm! We have all heard the name but none of us can remember in what context or even on which continent it is.

A thorough search of the boxes reveals little of interest to me. I notice Aerberon furtively putting a few things into his belt pouch, when he thinks no one is watching. Just as I am giving up, a small plain box catches my eye. Opening it, I am looking at a highly polished blade. Longer than a dagger but shorter than a short sword, slightly curved like a fang. With a blood channel running the full length of the blade. The handle has a shark skin grip. Both the pommel and cross guard are made of a clear crystal, into which many runes have been carved.

Reverently I lift it out of the box, it is much lighter than I first thought. It seems to cut the air as I move it back and forth. I like this blade. It fairly exudes magic. Further investigation of the box reveals a black steel scabbard but no makers mark or sign of ownership. I will keep this, it will compliment my Uluk and my two weapon fighting style. Also it will look good, a black blade in one hand and a silver in the other. I am a Happy Beast Lord!

Taking a different route we are confronted with another set of stairs going down. At the bottom we can just see a huge pair of armored boots. This creature must be massive, at least 20 feet tall!. How to proceed? Brand comes up with a solution [amazing I know!]. He goes back to the serpent room and comes back with a vial of red and a vial of blue liquid. We count to three.  Brand and I throw the vials at the feet and leap back up the stairs. There is a thunderous Roar! both searing heat and a frigid blast flows over us. When the dust clears we can see a large crater in the floor. But, the boots are still there, sooty with a sheen of ice on them, but otherwise they are unmarked.

Bugger this. I leap down into the room and am confronted by a steel golem. I start my attack forms. Hands flying. Carving chunks out of the metal. It hits me hard! Stunning me for a moment. Then my left hand twitches. A surge of energy shoots into my body from the silver blade. Suddenly my attacks speed up, as if time itself has slowed down I am getting in double the blows for each hit I take. In no time at all, it is just a pile of junk.

After being healed by Heulwyn we move on. Brand takes the lead. Shortly after, he lying on the floor. The victim of a lightning trap. He is barely alive and his new sword is molten slag on the floor. He will not be best pleased when he awakes.

Awake, as predicted, he is in a foul mood. He deliberately takes station at the back of the party leaving me to take the lead. We come to an area that looks and feels, Hmm! Peculiar is the only way I can think to describe it.  It is just a set of stairs that descend about ten feet, then a level passage of about twenty feet then stairs rising a similar distance. Nothing out of the ordinary you would think. But still, we all felt a strange reluctance to go down those steps. 

Eventually I summon up the nerve to head down. Nothing happens on the descent. I walk forward a few paces. Then, I feel a gut wrenching disorientation and I am in a completely new area. Hopefully, still in the Pyramid. I can hear my comrades calling. So I do an about turn and walk towards a blank wall. Again, the gut wrenching, [not a pleasant feeling at all] and I am back in the corridor.

After some discussion, we decide to leave checking this out until later.

We take yet another passage. This leads to a throne room. Hurrah! At last we are getting some where.

It is a long columnar hall. Again with hieroglyphs in gold and green carved into all visible walls.

The columns themselves are fluted and it would take ten large men with arms stretched wide to encompass the base of one of them. They stand thirty feet tall and have gold embossed finials at the top.

The columns themselves give off a strange eerie glow, which lights the area.

At the end of the hall, sitting on a gold throne, is a one eyed, undead Goblin! [The Dark Eye, perchance?]

He lifts his hand, says something in gibberish, and Aerberon’s sword flies to his hand. He looks up and smiles. Yellow fangs gleaming in the light of the columns.

Three things go through my mind; Spell caster, [Doh!], get close quick and Aerberon is going to be really ‘pissed off’[sorry for the language but I could think of no other way of saying it] with this guy.

Embracing the spirit of the wolf, Gwyn and I charge forward. Trying to keep the columns between the Goblin and us. Brand goes left, the Shadow Knight and Heulwyn go right in a pre-planned move we have come up with when faced with casters.

Its first, and last spell, catches Heulwyn and throws, him gasping for breath, to the floor. There go our powerful undead spells. By the time it tries to cast a second spell Gwyn and I are next to it. As I have said before, it is hard to concentrate on casting a spell when two feet of steel is stuck in your body!

However it is very good at wielding its newly acquired sword. Fortunately Brand and Aerberon arrive at that point. Again, it tries to cast a spell [Gate if I am not mistaken]. Big mistake! All our blades strike as one. Result? An interesting pile of body parts on the floor. Aerberon retrieves his sword with much muttering, and starts to hack off the head of the Goblin.

Now we are close, we can see that the throne is not golden at all, just gilded wood [cheapskate!]. Brand sits in it and starts fiddling about with the arms. Something clicks and a black metal sphere, about the size of your fist, starts to fall from a compartment in the arm. The fighter lunges for it, catches it, shimmers and promptly disappears. The ball falls to the floor with a heavy Clunk! We wait for a few moments to see if he comes back. Nothing. So holding Gwyns' collar I touch the ball. More gut wrenching, but more so if you know what I mean. [You’d think that magic users would have come up with a better spell after all the millennia they have been teleporting here and there. Stupid casters!]

I am standing in a huge cavern, dimly lighted from what source I cannot tell. I am on some sort of circular plinth of white marble, inlaid with golden runes, some sixty feet across. Stairs leading down from the plinth are placed at the four compass points. Standing to one side is a beautiful  High Elf maid in blue and golden robes. Brand is standing next to her, bug eyed!

She smiles at me and says “Welcome to the Nexus, traveler”  and with as small bow continues “Please leave the transporter pad, to allow other users to arrive”

Within seconds Heulwyn arrives and goes through the same routine. We wait for the Shadow Knight.

And wait…….

And wait…………!

We are getting directions from a friendly Gnome traveler when, at last Aerberon arrives.

It seems, we have arrived at the; or should I rather say In the; commercial and transportation cavern of the moon Luclin, that shines in our night sky! Brand cannot take this in, he starts shaking and talking to himself. He only brightens up when we get to an Inn. He bellies up to the bar and proceeds to drink himself into a stupor.

We find out from the Gnome, Fistandantulous Glowstar, [not sure if I have spelt that right, but that’s what it sounded like. Gnomes tend to talk rather quickly]. That it costs one thousand gold pieces to be transported back to Antonica. I tell him that I cannot see that as being a problem and show him the gems we had liberated from the pyramid. He points us in the direction of, a fairly honest, gnome jeweler, who converts our gems into platinum pieces. I end up with five hundred and fifty platinum as my share.

Now, off the Nexus cavern is another called The Grand Bazaar. A place I had heard of, but thought was just a legend. Vast numbers of traders compete to sell their goods here, and as a result, prices are really low. Sometimes stupidly low! But I am not complaining. From a trader named Panthero, of the Midnight Storm Riders guild [fancy names they give their guilds here!] I bought Mithril Studded leather armor, for two hundred platinum pieces, amazing. Still however the prices of the nicer items continue to be outside our range. Hey Ho! 

The next day we port back to the East Common Lands, and make our way to Freeport.

In the city, we discus what to do next. It is decided to sell the location of the Pyramid to the Mages & Wizards Guild. After long and arduous negotiations with them [they are a tight fisted lot] we settle for one thousand gold pieces and for them to deliver a years supply of stores to the Northman Fishing Village as well as ensuring their safety for a year.

This done, we can now train and buy new spells. On a personal note, I take some jewelry I had  bought in the Bazaar to Megan, as a kind of peace offering, for being away so long. She is happy, and later so am I! 

Now I wonder which of the loose ends we have left we shall deal with next? Or will fate send us in a completely new direction?……………………………………………………………

My training goes on apace, being naturally ambidextrous, my trainer shows me some new moves that increases my attack speed, when using two weapons. He also teaches me to communicate with magical beasts; this is the hardest part of the training. He almost despairs of getting the subtle nuances of stance and expression through my thick Northman skull. But with perseverance and quite a few bites and stings from various beasty’s I finally get the hang of it.

I have had the blade I found, in the sunken pyramid, identified. It is from a land on the far side of Norrath, it is very rare and very, very expensive. It has a name to match; I had to write it down, as I would never remember it otherwise.

“Hold on, I have the piece of parchment here somewhere. Ah! Here it is. It is called an ‘Electrum Bladed Koshi Gana Tana’. See? now you know why I have it written down. It also has a magical effect that kicks in now and again, which speeds up my attacks even more”.

The only fly in the ointment, is the cost of the new spells that are available to me. I purchase the warder enhancement spell [by name ‘Spirit of Herikol’] and the spell that gives him a magical fire attack. After that the only other spell that I can afford is the Spirit of Wolf. This increases my movement rate by half again.

Shortly after my training sessions end, mainly from lack of cash rather than lack of experience, I receive a message from Heulwyn, inviting me for dinner at the Hog Callers Inn. Well, I cannot pass up a free meal in my present financial position, can I? At the appointed hour, I arrive at the Inn, to see my usual companions and a stranger sat around a table, so full of food that you would have thought there was a Hobbit convention due to join us.

The cleric introduced me to the stranger. He was a paladin named Roanon and it was he who was paying for the feast. What a nice man, I like him already.

During the course of the meal, Roanon tells us that his brother was captured by the minions of Befallen and sacrificed to their deity. He has received a message, that his brother’s soul has been somehow contained and is being kept in that benighted hold. He has vowed to free his soul and to that end, he asks us to accompany him.

Heulwyn interrupts, and tells us that he a mission to carry out for his church and will not be able to accompany us.

Blast! I always like having a cleric in any group I am in.

What can I say, having eaten of his food, I am obliged to help my host [it’s a Northman thing]. To my surprise, Aerberon also agrees to accompany us. Mmm! He is up to something. No asking for a reward! Very suspicious!

It is a four-week journey to Befallen. We have to travel through the temperate climes of the East and West Common Lands. Roanon proves to be an amiable traveling companion, but seems to get up Aerberon's nose a bit. I think it is because he has a horse! If you remember, the Shadow Knight also had something that looked like a horse. However it did not last very long. Ah well, I am sure he will get over it’s loss eventually, like in about another nine months when he can call another mount to him. Let's hope it lasts longer than the last one….. On second thoughts, given the nature of the beast, let’s hope it dies straight away.

Befallen is set into the southern hills of the West Commonlands. I believe that it was once a monastery that was destroyed and then occupied by evil forces. We approach just as night is falling. The Shadow Knight offers to go in alone and bargain for Roanon’s brother’s soul.

We are to wait 20 minutes or so, and, if he has not returned, go in mob handed to the rescue.

It sounds like a sensible plan. However it does not sound like Aerberon! There must be more to it. I mean, he does not have a good side that we can appeal too, so why the sudden altruism? 

Still we agree, and off he goes.

He enters the complex just as darkness finally descends. A few minutes later a sickly green mist starts seeping out of the entrance. Covering the ground to the depth of about a foot. As it reaches us, It seems that I can feel the agony of all those who have been killed by the evil that now inhabits Befallen.

Only about ten minutes have past, but standing around and doing nothing is wearing on the nerves. We agree, that we said we would wait ‘about twenty minutes’ not exactly twenty minutes. Thus soothing our consciences we enter Befallen.

The tunnel zigzags in a chaotic fashion for about a hundred and sixty feet. We can here the sound of steel on stone. Rounding a corner we observe several skeletons working to remove a rock fall from a side passage.

Once one of the skeletons sees Roanon’s holy symbol they all turn and attack. 

At last! Something to hit, to take my mind of the evilness of this place. Unfortunately they do not fight very well and are soon just a pile of bone chips on the floor. Shortly there after, Aerberon returns and starts haranguing us, over spoiling his plan and accusing us of not trusting him [too true mate! I trust him about as far as I can throw a mammoth].

He tells us to stay at the rock fall and wait. Off he goes, Minutes later he comes flying around the corner, being chased by a dry bone skeleton. So much for negotiation. Ah! well, more bone chips.

He says he will try one more time, and please will we stay put. Reluctantly we agree.

So we wait, and wait……. And wait!

Blow this for a game of soldiers! We move further in.

Eventually we arrive at a large hall with several door and passages off it. At the end of the hall two floating skulls seem to be guarding a doorway. Taking the passage to our right, Roanon opens the first door we come too. This was once a library, but the books are all moldy and falling apart. A large pile of books have be built into a mound in the centre of the room. As we enter, a huge, undead plague rat leaps from the mound and attacks the paladin. The stench from the thing is almost overpowering. On its first attack, it severs the large vein in Roanon’s leg and down he goes frothing at the mouth and twitching as though struck by lightning. Brand leaps on its back and nearly cuts the thing in two with his great sword. Then a strange thing happens, the body just falls to dust.

The paladin is in a bad way. Brand slings him over his shoulder and starts to carry him out. The lad that has been following Aerberon accompanies him. Glancing around, I spy a book that is in almost perfect condition. So I pick it up, a quick glance shows it to be the diary of a particularly evil person, this I put it in my pack for further perusal, before following my companions out of this vile place.

Outside the mist now covers several acres of mountainside. Placing Roanon on his horse we lead it to an area well clear of the foggy carpet. I try my most powerful healing spells, but they have little effect. We will have to try and get him to a more capable healer. Where is Heulwyn when you need him?

The paladins life hangs in the balance, we cannot wait for Aerberon. Turning to go, I hear a familiar voice shouting from behind us. Yep, you’ve guessed it; our wayward Shadow Knight finally catches up with us. Though he is somewhat reluctant to tell us what he has been doing.

After several hours travel, we need to rest. Again, I try my healing spells. He looks slightly healthier, but does not regain consciousness.

 I am just doing a final check on the perimeter of our camp, when a female Dark Elf steps around from behind a large rock. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or her. But I know who acted first. Both weapons were in my hands, and on the first blow I felt the magic of my………..Now what did I do with that piece of parchment? Ah there it is, yes my  ‘Electrum Bladed Koshi Gana Tana’, imbue my arms with a speed they would not normally attain. I hit her another four times before she could even start a spell and by that time it was too late. It’s hard to cast a spell when you are freshly dead! Her body also falls to dust, Weird!

I think from now on I will just call it a Gana Tana, I can remember that and it does not take so long to write down. Let alone find that blasted piece of parchment.

 At daybreak, as we are just getting breakfast organized, Roanon groans and suddenly sits up. Looking like I usually feel after a five day drinking bout, he staggers to the edge of our camp and up-chucks.

The paladin unties the bandage from his leg, ugh! Not a nice sight, the wound is leaking a green, grey puss and the edges are turning black. Still shaking, he mutters a prayer. A golden glow suffuses his hands. Pressing them to the gash on his leg; the glow seems to leave his hands and flow into the wound. The edges turn first an angry red and then a more healthy pink. The flow of gunk stops and the edges start to grow together. After a minute it is as though he was never wounded.

Looking around, Roanon says, “ Right then, I’m starving. Let’s eat, then go back in there and kick some serious evil butt!”. A man after my own heart, even though he is a weakling southerner. Why cant Aerberon be more like him?

To my amazement the Shadow Knight agrees. Muttering some thing about how if he cant get the book one way he will get it another. ‘Book? I thought. What book? Hmm! Things are starting to fall into place.’ I will have to give the diary I found a thorough reading, and not in Aerberon’s view either.

So, with Brand leading, we again enter the dark depths of Befallen………………………………

Heading back into Befallen under the warming glow of the sun does not bring so many horrible thoughts to mind. The cleansing light seems to beat back the evilness of the place.

The great hall is as I remembered it, doors and corridors leading off it to the left and right with a double set of doors at the far end guarded by floating skulls. We took the corridor to the right again and came once more to the library. As soon as he saw it, Aerberon went manic. Telling us to hold back because he heard that some of the books in Befallen were cursed, and it was better for him to search than we were, as he was more resistant to such things. [Balls!! ]. But we let him have his way; [hardly able to keep the grin off my face], as he searched for the book that I was pretty sure I had in my backpack. Ho Hum. Some days it’s just good to be alive.

He spent an hour searching every rotting tome and then another half-hour looking for secret doors, when I suggested that any important books would be well hidden. But, time was a wasting and as much as I enjoy watching Aerberon futilely searching, it is time we moved on.

Re-entering the great hall, we came face to face with another party. I just managed to hold my first blow back when I noticed the holy symbol of Marr on the shield of the warrior. Even more so when I see that the figure behind him is a Northman and a Shaman to boot. So, battle averted, we discuss our various ventures. The pair, Connor Macrae and Tobias [I think he said his name was, strange sort of name that] have been tracking down some ‘nare do wells’ that have been terrorizing the villages of the Commons and their tracks led them here.

We agree to join forces, much to the disgust of the Shadow Knight. In fact he suggests that he and Brand go check the library one more time while we clear the rest of this level. Gritting my teeth to stop from laughing, I agree to his plan.

Our party now consists of myself [Beastlord and warder] two paladins and a shaman.

Moving down a narrow rubble strewn corridor we were set upon by gnome sized clockworks. These were no contest to our group. Moving ever deeper into the complex, another door blocks our path, but not for long. The armored boot of Roanon knocks it completely out of its frame. Standing amongst a fortune in glass retorts and silver tubing is a robed figure, who starts to chant and gesticulate [A new word that Tobias taught me, it means waving your arms about, apparently. I mean, a paladin would not lie to me, would he?]. I start my charge to try and interrupt his casting. Unfortunately, I am not quick enough. A wave of mystic energy encompasses me and I start to run away. I don’t want too! But my body will not obey my commands. Pushing past my companions I run out into the hall and then out of Befallen. At which point the spell expires.

Shame faced I jog back to the group, only to find that they have killed the caster. Blast!! I wanted to show him the soft side of my Uluk. “What soft side?” queried Tobias. To which I answered, grinning ”Exactly”.

In a side room we find a map of the upper levels of Befallen. Following this, we clear out the area, room by room. Nothing can stand up to us, me especially! as I am ashamed to say, I completely lost my rag, and behaved more like Aerberon than a normal human being. Accepting no surrender but fighting to the death.

Now it is time to deal with the floating skulls and whatever is behind the door they guard.

The skulls are easy, as is the poor excuse for a cleric that hides in the room beyond. Leading off from this room is another doorway. Blas’e by now [another of Tobius’s words, means overconfident I think] I throw the door open and step into another large hall. Unfortunately the giant skeleton standing next to the doorway has other ideas. With its great bone club, it smashes me off my feet and into the wall. Stunning me and making me easy prey for a follow up killer blow. The paladins have other, other ideas though. One, I am not sure which as I was seeing double at the time, cast the ‘Ward Undead’ spell; while the other beat on it with his sword. Connor healed me, just in time to avoid me being pummeled to death. With the three of us [and Gwyn] attacking it from all sides and Connor healing as necessary, we eventually brought it down.

Exhausted and out of manna, we barricaded ourselves in the clerics room to rest and meditate. An hour into our rest period, Aerberon’s voice can be heard from the other side of the door demanding entrance.

He and Brand are also battered and in need of healing. Curiously, he also needs a cure disease spell cast on him, which the shaman does. They are reluctant to tell us what has happened to them. Too tired to argue, I get back to sleep.

I am having a lovely dream, when Tobias shakes me awake. Pointing to a grey mist that is seeping under the door. It drifts across the room and when it touches the body of the evil cleric, it animates. Well I am not having any of that. The dead should stay dead, especially when it is me who killed them.

As it starts to rise I leap across the room and with one blow of my Uluk, I decapitate it. Now rise, you +**&%^$£.b .

Remembering the giant skeleton, we all pile into the next room just as it too, is rising. We pummel it into bone shards, throwing its head down a convenient well at the far end of the room. If it rises again it won’t be able to see a lot without its head or do a lot without its body. The clerics head joins the skellie’s down the well, just in case.

Aerberon thinks that this is probably going on throughout the whole complex. Connor and Tobias agree to backtrack and clear a path to the entrance, while we go further in.

Moving on, we defeat in turn; a mummy [Aerberon loses his rag when we suggest that it was after his sword. No sense of humor some people] four dark elf acolytes and a Troll Shadow Knight [he carries a glass key. Very strange]. None of which puts up much of a fight, but ‘you have to clear out the trash to get at the good stuff’ as my old mam used to say. She was a warrior of great renown, was my mam, and was famous for her sayings. At least that was what she told us at night, over a mug of mulled ale. Or when arm wrestling my older brothers to see who would do the washing up. We decapitated all of these and throw the heads into separate rooms in a bid to slow down their reconstitution by the mist. I don’t know if this will work but it should make it damn difficult!

From the Trolls room, two broad staircases go down and meet some sixty feet below us. From our vantage point, we can see that at the bottom of the stair well, that a spear trap has been sprung. Several spearheads jut out of the floor. The left-hand stairwell is almost completely blocked by rubble. This leaves the right hand one as the only viable option. Aerberon sends his skeletal pet on ahead in a bid to spring any further traps.

For once the Shadow Knight takes the lead, a good thing too. As half way down, tentacles lash out from the rubble of the blocked stair well. Grabs him, and throws him onto the spearheads. He manages to somehow, twist in mid air and avoid most of the spikes. Some shatter on his armor, two however pierce his arm and thigh holding him immobile. Not for long though. Once more the tentacles reach out at him. Ripping him off the barbed blades and lifting him to a many toothed maw!

All this took mere seconds, during which time we were scrambling over the rubble to get at the creature. It however, was fending us off with even more tentacles. Footing was precarious to say the least, without having to dodge the flailing limbs of the beast [what ever it was].

By the time we finally reach the main body of the beast it has half swallowed the Shadow Knight. Taking care not to hit Aerberon, we proceed to dismember the creature. Taking some heavy whacks from the tentacles in doing so. Finally it is dead and we extricate the somewhat bedraggled [goo, blood and saliva dripping from all parts of his armor, yuck!] Shadow Knight. Once more he is not a happy camper and swears that he will never go in front of the party again. Saying that, that is the job of the Paladin. To which Roanon replies, ‘no sane Paladin would allow a Shadow Knight walk behind him.’

Hmm! Good point.

Past the spear trap, stands a large iron door. Obviously our usual tactics of booting down the door will not work here. Aerberon suggests using the glass key. Much to my surprise, it works! The room beyond is dark. Our lanterns barley illuminate the first twenty feet. Suspended from the ceiling and reaching the floor are inch thick chains.  About twenty dangle there, swaying in a breeze that has suddenly started to waft our way. Bringing with it the stench of a charnel house. Roanon holds the lantern while I enter [freeing both my hands to use weapons if need be. Within seconds of entering a chain has lashed out, hitting me behind the knees and throwing me to the floor. Three others also animate and start thrashing at me. I can now see that the bottom six foot section of chain is covered in spikes. Ouch! And I mean Ouch!!!.

Roanon and Brand leap forward to engage the chains while Tobias, who has returned, tries to drag me out. Our weapons have no effect on the chains and we beat a hasty retreat. This will require some thought.

Aerberon’s first action is to throw a flask of acid at one of the animate chains. It does a little damage but most of it just falls sizzling, to the floor. We come up with the plan of roping the chains and tying them to the stair rail, thus immobilizing them. First we have to spot the animate chains from the inanimate. Unfortunately we all decide to look into the room at the same time. Four people trying to look through a doorway designed to accommodate one does not go. We clash heads. It is like one of the pantomimes I saw in Freeport. Of course Aerberon just stands back and laughs at our discomfort.

With time and some little effort we have all four chains tied down. Entering the room once more, I am about to proceed through the rest of the chains, when, the sounds of shuffling feet make me glance to the left. Ghouls! Stealthily heading my way. About a dozen. I quickly launch one of my throwing axes at the leader and leap back out of the room. Our only chance will be to hold the doorway; otherwise we will be swamped. Well for once our fight goes to plan. As they step through the doorway, a paladin on either side, strikes one. As it steps further forward and Brand and I also get our blows in. If they are still up after that; Aerberon, well to the rear [no change there then], casts Ward Undead on them. In no time at all, there are ten ex Ghouls dead [once more] on the floor. 

Yet again we enter the chain room, ready for anything this time. A noise to the right makes me spin round, weapons ready. There is a bundle of chains in the corner, moving slightly. We approach carefully, ready to unleash a devastating attack. Roanon, who is closest, sheathes his sword and starts tugging at the chained bundle. Closer inspection reveals it to be a Vah Shir [one of the cat people] wrapped up, mummy like, in the chains. It takes a while to release her, as the hooks on the chains have penetrated her skin, where it was not protected by her armor.  

She tells us that her name is T’Paw or some such, a warrior. Traveling alone over the Common Land, she was captured whilst asleep, much to her chagrin [Yes, you’ve guessed it, another of Tobias’ posh words] Wanting to have a little talk with the people responsible for her kidnap [catnap? ], she agrees to accompany us into the depths of Befallen.

Following the tunnel from the room, the passageway becomes slick with some sort of ichor. Stepping carefully to avoid falling in this goo, we enter a cavern. There are many gnawed bones strewn about the floor. Obviously the lair of the Ghouls. The wind continues to gust intermittently, fluttering rags that seem to have been pasted on the walls and ceiling, at random. This makes us very jumpy. The more so, as in an effort to keep our footing we are moving slowly and quite well spread out.

The Shadow Knight shoots one of his fire arrows at a particularly large patch of fabric, with no result. It flares briefly but then splutters out. The flapping movement and noise is starting to spook us!

Leaving the cavern we proceed down a new corridor even more plastered with rags. The wind is getting stronger all the while. Suddenly! Dropping from the ceiling in front of me are two rag covered Ghouls. I can also here the thud, thud! of others, landing some way behind me. Fighting hard to keep my balance Gwyn and I, engage the first of the Ghouls. Aerberon comes sliding by and engages the second. His pet skeleton also tries to attack the Ghoul but loses its foot and does the splits. The sound of combat behind me, tells me that the others are similarly engaged.

Gwyn with his four feet has the advantage here. He drags the Ghoul down onto the floor, where I quickly dispatch it. Turning to help Aerberon, I see Brand, sliding along on his stomach and ploughing into the Shadow Knights opponent. This knocks it off it’s feet and it to, is quickly killed.

Tobias, Roanon and T’Paw have taken out those Ghouls that were attacking us from the rear.

This passageway leads to a great hall, and I mean a Great Hall! It is very dimly lighted and stands sixty feet high. With a length of over two hundred feet and a width of about one hundred feet. It is in a sad state of repair with rubble dotting the surface of the black and which chequer board floor.

To my left, a balcony stands, some twenty feet above the floor with a large dark form perched on its balustrade. As I try to see what kind of monster it is. It turns and I am struck by and intense gust of wind, emanating from the creature. It slams me from my feet, sending me crashing into the wall. Ouch!! once more.

Aerberon, Brand and T’Paw loose arrows at it. They hit, but just bounce off the thing. Pulling myself to my feet, I embrace the spirit of the tiger and charge. Once more I am buffeted by strong winds, but this time I manage to keep my feet and leap for the ledge, closely followed by Gwyn.

Aerberon uses one of his life tapping spells on the creature, to no avail. For his troubles he too is thrown to the ground by a small tornado. Up close now, I can see that this thing has the shape of a giant bat. I go onto my attack forms, hitting it time after time. I am damaging it, but not as much as I would expect. It must have some sort of magical protection or damage reduction spell on it. The thing appears to be able to cast spells and attack several times with its wickedly fanged maw. Soon both Gwyn and I are slick with both our own and the creature’s blood.

Brand T’Paw and Roanon join us on the ledge and begin their assault. All to no avail. Their weapons seem unable to even mark the creatures skin! The Paladins begin to cast their healing spells on Gwyn and myself while Brand and T’Paw leap on the creature, successfully throwing it off the balcony. With their weight on it, any normal creature would have plummeted to the ground. But this thing continues to fly, without even beating its wings.

As it floats close to the balcony once more, I leap for its back and miss. Gwyn leaps also and manages to grip it by the throat. Still the thing continues to float around unhindered. All the while, it is assailing us with these punishing gusts of wind. If we do not kill it soon we may not leave here alive. I try once more and this time manage to get a hold of it and climb onto its back. Holding on for dear life with my left hand I use the GanaTana to rip into its neck At last its starts to sink ground wards. Where Aerberon finishes it off with his Harm Touch power.

I burn all my manna, healing Gwyn and myself. We climb onto the balcony to rest, it being the most defensive position near us. Listening, at the doorway off it, Tobias says he can hear laughter. With the fighters standing guard, we manna users settle down to meditate. Some three hours later, T’Paw gestures to us to be on guard. A figure is approaching the corpse of the bat creature. A skeleton follows it. As we watch is starts casting a spell. Gradually the bat creature starts moving.

Well, I am not having any of that. It took us a long time and much blood to kill the so and so.

So while the Paladins and the Shadow Knight cast their Ward Undead spells on the bat thing, Brand, T’Paw, Gwyn and I charge the caster.

With all three spells hitting it, the bat thing slumps to the floor. Cursing, the Ghoul Magus [for that’s what it was. Aerberon, who knows about these things, told us afterwards] turns on us and unleashes a spell at Brand. To no effect, it only made him more angry than he was already [not a good thing, if you are on the receiving end of a Northman charge] Suffice it to say, that the magus cast no more spells and its pet disappeared when its master was killed. 

Climbing back onto the balcony we settled down to rest and recover our strength…………………….