(59) Bael 1013AS: the Dwarven fortress

• INTO THE DWARVEN HALLS ONCE MORE

8 Bael-monath

Ebberk told us that we must travel about a week to the small town of Blasingdell and then a few days beyond to the fortress. It was mostly a quiet journey, travelling in style in the wagon, with me and Cuthain doing most of the driving. The exception was one afternoon when something spooked the horses, and they bolted and flipped us over!

14 Bael-monath

Reaching Blasingdell, we prepared for our trip up into the hills by purchasing winter clothes from Tolm the merchant – the cold weather was beginning to bite. Lowan did a bit of digging and soon found townsfolk willing to tell of the legend of Durgeddin the Black, the master weaponsmith of Khundrukar. From the secret stronghold he and his clan ranged, attacking the orcs again and again until, perhaps a century ago, the orcs somehow found and sacked the fortress. Nevertheless, it was said that in the deepest vaults there may still lie fine blades to be found …

A further three days climb into thickly wooded hills, under Ebberk’s guidance, brought us to Stonetooth, the rock formation which marked the entrance to the fortress – and a suspicious plume of smoke rising from somewhere beyond.

17 Bael-monath

We sent Ebb a little closer to investigate and, having realised that the doors were guarded by a pair of orcs, we cautiously inched closer. Lowan and Alathor both cast Sleep on the guards, and then Ebb snuck up and pushed them over the edge of the hill! Harsh but fair. Despite Ebb’s entreaties the rest of us moved closer.

Other orcs within the fort had by now noticed that the guards were missing, at which Ebb downed a potion of Invisibility and ran for the door before they could seal it. Unfortunately, no sooner was he inside, than the door was slammed shut – clearly, we needed to be inside as soon as possible before the potion ran out! We rushed the doors, protecting Lowan (suddenly becoming a rather central figure, I hope he was noticing!) as he read his Knock scroll to open the door. Inside, our cover comprehensively blown, we quickly became embroiled in a fight on three fronts. Lowan felled an orc with one blow, as did Cuthain, while I took out two in the same fluid movement! I’m getting quite good at this sword-swinging lark hehe. A deep chasm lay immediately behind the doors – this seemed to be a guardpost for the main fortress. Unfortunately, despite Traugar’s best attempts at spellcasting using his darksight, one of the orcs cut the ropes holding up the bridge across and ran off. We found an alternative passageway and, having located a secret door, opened out into a large barracks room where we disposed of four further orcs – although an Elder ran off before we could finish him off too. We found him a little later – along with two wolves and an Ogre. I was left unconscious and severely wounded, as was Cuthain, but Lowan apparently struck the final blows on the Ogre over my prone body. My hero!!

18 Bael-monath

We rested up until the next morning, and then continued onwards through more caverns. In one we rescued two prisoners, married farmers called Geradil and Courana, who had been seized by the orcs. They were clearly terrified and half-starved, so we felt there was little choice but to take them home. It took us a day to reach their isolated farmstead, but the look on the face of their father, Torrill, told us at once our effort was worthwhile. In return they gave us four healing potions, put us up for the night, and made us friends for life. We left them some coins too in recompense for their traumas.

21 Bael-monath

Carefully we made our way back into the complex, although we were pretty sure from the eerily empty chambers we found that, during our absence, the remaining occupants had fled elsewhere. Perhaps they had gone deeper into the fortress, for, after getting singed in a fire trap, we found steps leading down to a lower level which Ebberk told us was known as the Glitterhame. And glitter indeed it did; downstairs we found a cavern lined with an incredibly beautiful array of gemstones and minerals, flickering in the light and reflected in an underground river. Exploring further, we fought lizard-like creatures and found much evidence of orc activities. One slightly crazy plan involving me climbing down a river tunnel nearly got me killed by being ensnared in the mouth of a large lizard (long story), but thankfully Cuthain was able to follow using a magical potion and heroically come to my rescue.

No sooner had we got back to the entrance cavern than we were set upon by some enraged troglodytes, a tough battle but swung in our favour by a great blow from Lowan, who then, despite being knocked over, proceeded to sing us on to victory while prone on the ground! What a man.

22 Bael-monath

With that, we descended to yet another level, one that Ebberk told us was known as the Sinkhole. Down here we fought a horrible grey oozey thing, crossed an underground river, and waded through stagnant water to retrieve two potions Lowan had detected. Much, much worse was a ferocious encounter with a Roper which seemed determined to feed upon us to ease its raging hunger … I did my best in the heat of the melee but things were looking very bleak indeed until, thankfully, Alathor inspired Cuthain, with a brilliant leap of imagination, to persuade it to spare our lives in return for something more to its taste - the promise of some orc-meat! All we had to do now was find the missing orcs then.

In the meantime, we were free to carry on exploring. Ebberk, however, had run off at the merest sight of the Roper and sadly we found him impaled on a troglodyte spear a short while later. We carried him back to a dwarven tomb-chamber we had found in the Glitterhame and gave him an appropriate send-off. On this level was one remaining door we had not previously been through and, thinking better of facing the Roper again, we took this option. Eventually (trapped doors not withstanding) we found our way up to an astonishing dwarven hall, constructed to a staggering scale and grandeur but defiled by orcish graffiti. Traugar was not happy. He was even less so when he realised that the dire warnings being shouted out to us to leave were in the dialect of the Duergar – evil dwarves, and ones that could not only change shape but assume invisibility. Sure enough they sprung out of thin air and began attacking. We routed some of them, but others simply vanished again …

Entering another formerly glorious chamber, once clearly a shrine room, we fought two skeletons and an undead orc warrior. I heroically charged into battle with them but was knocked to the floor in doing so; I felt strangely listless afterwards too. In the meantime, though, the others had Turned them, and deduced that the other corpse in the room was none other than Durguddin’s himself. I still felt very weak indeed and so we decided to blockade the door and rest overnight. Within a few minutes, however, the Duergar were back, demanding through the door that we leave their territory. Seeing as they threatened to cave in the doorway and bury us alive if we declined, we had little option but to do as they said. They cared little what we did in the rest of the complex as long as we gave our word not to enter Durguddin’s furnace to the south, which they had now claimed as their own.

We hadn’t made it very far at all when we were spooked by a ghost but eventually we saw it off and tried to rest once again.

23 Bael-monath

We were not interrupted for the remainder of that night, but, even so, I never felt quite the same again after that encounter in Durguddin’s chamber – I seemed to have been left permanently drained in some way. In fact, it was turning into a spectacularly bad day all round for me. In the next encounter I was half crushed to death by a carpet (?!)

Room after room beyond here was littered with dwarven corpses, much to Traugar’s distress. In one we had more than a little trouble with a wizard named Idalla, who tried to persuade us she was trapped here, and then, when Cuthain declared that he could sense an aura of evil and attacked her, promptly enchanted us to begin arguing and – worse – fighting each other. Not our finest moment really! Eventually she vanished into thin air, and (very gradually) the charms wore off. After spending quite some time searching for other routes from the apparent dead-end we then found ourselves in, we at last discovered an opening into a huge cavern, with a precarious-looking ladder descending from the ledge we had emerged on. Nevertheless, we made it safely down, and began carefully picking our way along what seemed likely to be the same rushing underground torrent we had seen previously.

Sadly, it led us only to the lair of a Black Dragon – small as these things go, I gather, but quite big enough to make a terrible mess of us. Only Alathor, Lowan and I were eventually left standing, and Lowan was stuck on the far bank of the river from us anyway. And so it made us a deal: leave with our lives but surrender all of our equipment, or be killed. Now, I had found myself in these dire situations far too many times for comfort in recent days, and I was furious. Death before dishonour is a code I begin to find myself increasingly believing in. I refused to down arms, despite Alathor having already given in and beginning to strip our comrades’ bodies to hand over to the dragon! I was left powerless to intervene any further by another blast of acidic breath which brought me to my knees. I hid my Headband and considered throwing Shatterspike into the river rather than surrender it. In the end, though, I settled for knowing that I shall ease my intense frustration by slaying the beast and retrieving it. Whether I can forgive Alathor for meekly surrendering, however, I’m not so sure …

25 Bael-monath

We have decided to avenge ourselves while the wounds, both literal and figurative, are still fresh. Having spent a day healing ourselves, we have accumulated a motley assortment of acquired weapons from the bodies of previous foes, plus the weapons Lowan still had from being unbowed, and are about to re-engage it with all the might (and summoned porpoises) we can muster …

In the event it was ridiculously easy in comparison with last time; we must have been very close to bringing it down and left it severely damaged. We didn’t even have to engage it in combat, as the porpoises did their job remarkably effectively and the dragon withdrew into the depths. We were left to plunder its treasure horde and, of course, recover our own items.

(58) Halig 1013AS: more orcs and to Kalstrand

2 Halig-monath

A largely uneventful journey was broken on this day only by the rather sinister sight of large winged creatures in the sky …

8 Halig-monath

Finally reach Duvik’s Pass and make for the Inn, called, um, Duvik’s Rest. What is it with this Duvik business anyway?!

Here we learnt that (not entirely to our surprise), there had been problems in the village. There had been no news whatsoever from the mine – where most of the menfolk worked – for some two weeks, the Elders believed the water supply to be poisoned and … You’ll never guess what … yup, there were yet more deceased cattle. You might begin to imagine it was us.

Lowan put on another tremendous show and we arranged lodging for the night; smarter rooms were purchased for Alathor (snob) and me (token girl). A few other useful snippets were gleaned – such as the fact that ten years ago there were problems with orcs and the villagers slew a tribe of them.

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• THE DEMON OF DUVIK’S DEEP

9 Halig-monath

With the mayor’s help we set off for the mines to investigate. They lay above the village in the snowy foothills. As we arrived it was clear that something bad had indeed happened. Blood was visible around the shattered wood of the entrance.

We searched our way through the mine complex fighting gangs of kobolds (a terrific blow of mine on one sticks out in particular hehe) and generally over-complicating quite simple things as per usual. I found some rotten cheese (?!)

Soon the passageways opened up into a spectacular chamber studded with huge stalagmites, the minerals embedded in the walls clear evidence of the mining activities. Picking our way cautiously through the cavern, we found ourselves under crossbow fire from a high ledge on the west wall, accessible from the floor only by ropes. We took cover behind the rock formations, but then Alathor recognised the shouts from above and was able to negotiate a peaceful resolution - yes, it was yet more Kobolds. They insisted that the miners had not been killed by them, but by a ‘demon’ in another part of the workings and begged us to investigate. Dubiously, we decided to follow their directions to explore what lay beyond a large hole in the opposite corner of the cavern.

This led us deeper underground where, after wading past more undead (including some who looked suspiciously as if they might have been miners …), we found the Kobold’s nemesis. Atop a large pillar of stone in the middle of a pool stood not a demon but an Orc Shaman and, though it wounded Cuthain, it was no match for us once we had all closed in with assorted magic, bows and swords. The pool fed a stream which flowed out of the chamber to the south – and as the water immediately turned from murky to clear as the orc died, we figured we had just settled the water supply problem in Duvik’s Pass. The orc had a few useful possessions, not least of which was an impressive blue sapphire.

I was rather distracted, however, by feeling increasingly uncomfortable – hot and very much bothered. I think I must have contracted something in the mine. Picked our way back down the mountainside to meet the Mayor, me arguing all the way that we should go right back and clear out the last set of Kobolds (it was the fever talking I think). The Mayor reluctantly allowed me and my germs back in the village, and then only after Lowan (yay!) pleaded our case.

11 Halig-monath

My fever broke. Cuthain and I were insistent we should finish what we started and either make sure the remaining Kobolds had left or else forcibly remove them. Everyone else was not quite so sure! Still, we were going anyway, When we got back we found all silent and the ropes vanished; Ebb and I tried to climb up, but we were very sure that they had fled. Back at the village we were given 100 gold crowns as a reward.

We were distinctly curious as to why we had spent the best part of a month trekking across to the mine based on the letters linking Belac to Jakk, but Lowan’s best efforts at finding information came to nothing – and finally the penny dropped, that the orc was presumably in fact Jakk himself. It seemed he was one of the few survivors of his clan – the rest having been disposed of when the villagers first arrived – and was seeking to extract his vengeance.

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• KALSTRAND

12 Halig-monath

It didn’t help my recovery from fever to learn on this morning that Lowan was considering moving on again … I must say this rather hurt because we had grown closer and Lowan seemed to be starting to reciprocate my feelings. He promised me that he would stay if he felt that he could, and that I would be the reason for doing so – but he still felt constricted by the dungeon-crawling life and longed for freedom and the open road. For now, however, he secured a spot at Duvik’s Rest for a few days and earned himself 13 florins in the process. Meanwhile the others helped the villagers clean up and reclaim the mine – burying the bodies and carrying out other rather unpleasant tasks.

Eventually we decided to head on north out of the Serpentcoil range to the larger town of Kalstrand. After a week’s work, the mine was largely cleared and, considering that Kalstrand may be a good place to sell the sapphire, we decided to head that way – Lowan coming with us but, worryingly, still discussing heading off for a while afterwards.

Departed on the morning of the 18th, me fretting most of the way, and meandered slowly through uneventful villages until arriving on the 31st.

31 Halig-monath

On arriving in Kalstrand we searched around for merchants to assess and/or purchase our various wares. During the week we spent there, Alathor and Ebb commissioned new weapons from the smithies. I can’t help thinking that Ebb also got himself involved in something distinctly shady, but I’m not quite sure what … And … ah, I must admit, so did I. Lowan’s prevarication was getting to me, and one moment I was in a bar talking to some town lads over a few beers, the next I was in a fight and finding myself locked up for two days. Not really my finest moment.

In any case, Lowan cheered up considerably, I’m glad to say. Not only did he track down a famous craftsman, Thomas of Kalstrand, and purchase a superb new fiddle of the highest quality, but by the end of the week he was so attuned to it that he was producing performances of near perfection. I was out of the cells in time for the last one (*ahem*) and was absolutely spellbound all over again. He also bought a magical shield from one of the merchants (subsidised by both me and Alathor!) and, feeling newly emboldened, decided to stay on for the moment at least.

Traugar meanwhile did something just as useful. First he purchased a wagon and two horses, which would save us trudging everywhere by foot! Secondly, he spent time with the Dwarven community and was told of the ancient fortress of Khundrukar, from where nothing had been heard since the clan were at war with the local orcs. The elder, Ebberk, was willing to take us there to try and solve the mystery – and he warned us that it was the sort of place that isn’t found unless it wants to be. No! Really? An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu … It was Ulrag-Nazar all over again. *sigh*!

(57) Arn 1013AS II: the sunken city

9 Arn-monath

The morning brought clearing skies and that delicious, fresh, crisp air one often finds after a lengthy storm has passed. We left the tomb and climbed up to the tower on the hillside above, but all was deserted. It was clearly time to head off and find a drink! Lowan guided us back down out of the foothills to an Inn he had played at before and, once the fire was roaring and a few flagons and been drained, duly brought out his fiddle once again. Having not had the most auspicious of starts in that department with our new friends, there were audible sighs all round … but I’m so glad to report that this time he was back to being dazzlingly good! Inspired, he started work on a ballad retelling our adventure.

Meanwhile, we continued on to the nearest small market town, Edgebourne, in the hope we could sell some of the gems and other items acquired in Hightower (although I kept hold of the Headband of A Stout Heart we had picked up). Afterwards Lowan visited yet another hostelry to see if any interesting rumours were floating round, only to find people laughing at the story of a group of adventurers massively underselling a magical pearl - sounding not altogether unlike the very one we had just sold at what we assumed was a fair price … *sigh* … still, Lowan bought us ale and bread from his fiddling profits to cheer us up, and Cuthain found some beggars to donate his share of the treasure to, in good Paladin style.

10 Arn-monath

Next day we left Edgebourne and travelled on, without any particular destination in mind. Journeyed on through fields and woods to the slightly larger town of Oakhurst. Here at the Old Boar Inn I purchased what may well be the world’s most expensive glass of wine (1 gold piece anyone?!) and … er, well, tried to get cosy with Lowan. He was still in information-gathering mode however, and he picked up a few intriguing tales – about the Old Road, a route to an ancient citadel now fallen into a ravine; the Ashen Plain, land supposedly laid waste by a dragon; and about the suspicious deaths of local cattle …

I was quite happy to settle in for the night – in fact, I was just trying to argue that to save money I didn’t mind sharing a room with Lowan and that Cuthain didn’t need to step in to defend my honour – when Alathor returned with more news. He had been told of a merchantwoman named Kerowyn Hucrele whose two offspring had not been seen since setting off adventuring to the fallen remains of the so-called Sunless Citadel.

Naturally we thought we should explore, and so off we trooped to speak to her. Talgen and Sharwyn were her missing children (wearing rings embossed with a tree symbol), having been in the company of another friend, a ranger named Caracas, and a more recent acquaintance, a Paladin called Sir Breyford. Kerowyn begged us to try and uncover their fate.

Meanwhile Cuthain had been to visit a local healer and discovered that Goblins visited the village every midsummer to sell a perfect apple with mysterious healing properties. When the apple seeds were planted they grew, but the saplings disappeared overnight. This year a stranger bought the apple … We had no idea what on earth this meant, but it all seemed well worthy of investigation.

11 Arn-monath

And so we set off for the Citadel, passing en route a farm where six of the eight cows had been killed over the last three weeks. Pressed on at once.

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• THE SUNLESS CITADEL

The directions we had been given led us to a ravine opening up into a narrow canyon with pillars collapsing into the sides and a rope leading down into the darkness. Ebb was dispatched to investigate and, proclaiming it an easy climb, Lowan followed. He found a ledge halfway down missed by Ebb, where he was set upon by three Giant Rats. Alathor came to his rescue but by then, for the second time in his short career, Lowan had already been knocked unconscious! The rest of us descended warily – although Traugar lost his footing, at least he landed next to Lowan and was able to heal him! Regrouped at the foot of the rope. It was a strange place – the ruins of the buildings had indeed slid down into the chasm.

A sunken courtyard led us to a ruined tower, although before we even made it there I had fallen down a pit-trap occupied by a couple of deceased goblins and a very much alive Dire Rat. Nice! Finished it off, and the others hauled me back to safety.

Pushing on past assorted skeletons and goblins, we found a room engraved, worryingly, ‘here be dragons’, and then a small, wretched Kobold named Meepo bemoaning the fact that ‘our dragon’s been lost’. Hmmm. Against Cuthain’s better wishes (the Kobold being a most unpleasant species of course) we decided to follow Meepo for a while and explore further. And so, very shortly, we found ourselves being led to the Kobold Queen herself (after a slight stand off where weapons were raised, Ebb’s bow finger was twitching, and Meepo was trying to persuade his colleagues not to kill us …). Alathor tried ‘negotiating’ with her … oh dear. Enough said. We did glean that Talgen and Sharwyn had been seen vanishing into the ‘goblin domain’, but could make no further progress and were ordered out of her kingdom (Queendom?).

Meepo however insisted on coming with us to search for the ‘dragon’, and so on we pressed through caverns and chambers, scaring ourselves opening non-trapped doors and then getting hit by actual trapped ones … (well, the blade missed me twice, but got Ebb on the backswing as he tried to disable it hehe). Another room held five sarcophagi which revealed Skeletons as they opened … things were looking decidedly worrying until Traugar thankfully turned them all. At this point we rested for the night, Lowan lulling us to sleep (and sweet dreams!) with a beautiful melody.

12 Arn-monath

We were getting more and more concerned about the missing adventurers as time went on, and with Ebb complaining we were making too slow progress, we decided to stop searching for traps on every single door like the paranoid wusses we are … and promptly triggered a clanging bell by walking through an unchecked doorway. Great. Javelins began issuing forth – it was Goblin territory. Alathor killed one with a Magic Missile but we felt sure they would be back. In the confusion Meepo ran off. Battled on and killed another five Goblins.

The next dungeon chamber held cells where Kobolds and a Gnome were chained up. The Gnome turned out to be a splendid little chap by the name of Erkie Timbers, and he told us the Goblins had caught the party and taken them to an evil druid called Belac … We debated what to with the Kobolds. Ethical dilemma; is it itself evil to leave evil creatures chained up?? We left them there while wondering what to do, and then ended up in a fight with a further six Goblins. Just beyond them lay no less than … a Miniature Dragon, presumably the one Meepo had been so keen to recapture. Being thankfully both small and manageable, we defeated it and took it with us as a useful bargaining tool.

We were running out of other leads and our way forward was blocked by a locked dragon-carved door anyway, so we returned back through the chambers until we came across Meepo again; at once he recognised the creature in our keeping, but we refused to surrender it until we were taken back to the Queen. When he acceded, she offered us a reward of either a couple of magic items, or the key to the locked door. Lowan attempted to bargain a little but failed. We decided we had better take the sensible option and go for the key! The Queen ordered us to leave her at once – and this time not return.

We left by different route into a small room which contained nothing but a keg; overcome by curiosity, we removed the bung, at which point a Water Imp flew out and attacked, catching poor old me unawares and knocking me unconscious. Fortunately Traugar was able to stabilise me and Cuthain stepped into the breach with a truly mighty blow. Less fortunately it took me a very long time to come round and, allowing time to rest up and heal, that was another day gone.

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• THROUGH THE DRAGON LOCK

Recovered to something like full health, we used the Queen’s key to open the dragon-lock door, leading us into a chamber filled with the dust of ages. Alcoves lined the walls, each one containing a dust covered stone pedestal housing a small crystal globe. One of them emanated a soft blue light and faint music, the sound swelling perceptibly as we got closer. I rather fearlessly touched it, and then wished I hadn’t; some strange force compelled us to flee and most of us ended up falling down a pit trap outside! Returning, I took one of the other globes with us.

Eventually we ended up in another chamber with a pit running across the middle. I was first to climb down and across, to be confronted by a dragon-embellished sarcophagus and a horrible little green, flying humanoid. The others, like lemmings flinging themselves off a cliff, attempted and failed dismally to leap the pit and help (succeeding only in impaling themselves on spikes in the bottom instead!). Ebb and I damaged what I now know was a Mephit before it vanished and apparently fled. The tomb was sealed but, intrepidly, we removed the clasps one by one … and unleashed the troll inside. It was a fearsome creature of 9 feet in height, but between the seven of us it stood little chance. The tomb concealed a reasonable haul of gold and inevitably dragon-themed jewels.

Frustratingly, we could find nowhere else to go other than back to the Kobold’s territory, so once again we retraced our steps and headed off another direction into parts of the citadel as yet unexplored. Here were cells where we fought dire rats and another room with a large fountain, this time inscribed with Naihuine, or Draconic for Let There Be Death. Gulp. It was an old trap though and discharged only a small cloud of gas. The next room brought further rats but, worse still, on a sickening pile of waste and dismembered remains, the body of poor Caracas. Still, his equipment was a useful donation to the cause! Ebb took on his armour and insisted it would be viewed as a tribute.

Beyond here we got very, very nearly out of our depth; a horde of goblins and their masters who proved to be exceptionally difficult opponents – not least because they had us fighting on three flanks in the maze of corridors! Lowan, Erkie and me were all knocked out (sadly becoming a regular occurrence as far as I was concerned!), but the others thankfully prevailed. There was still time for a further crisis as they tried to drag our bodies to somewhere safe and defensible; a further four goblins attacked. Cuthain was also knocked unconscious.

Those few still upright managed to rest uninterrupted after that, with the various fallen members of the party gradually recovering consciousness over the next few hours.

14 Arn-monath

Searching the goblin bodies we found one of the inscribed rings carried by the missing adventurers …

The main goblin lair appeared to occupy a former Cathedral from the days before the City fell. We convinced Cuthain that killing the last four males that were left alive, plainly terrified and protecting the young, elderly and female, wouldn’t achieve anything. A large tower attached housed a throne and the sapling on which presumably grew the mysterious goblin apples; the fact that it animated and attacked us meant that I had to fell it! In the tower was a shaft leading down further into the gloom. Clearly there was more to explore.

Ebb descended the shaft first – and then returned rapidly when he found a nasty welcoming party at the foot! There were two shambling figures in cloaks, which Traugar was able to turn, and two more living saplings. And beyond them, a battle with yet more rats and a large bugbear. The last-named not only seriously wounded Cuthain, but killed poor Erkie, who had been an undoubtedly valiant and valued part of the party. The bugbear had a fine morning star which would at least cheer Cuthain up on his awakening!

At this point we decided discretion was the better part of valour and that, rather than trying to heal up and wait for the next bout of unconsciousness, we would repair back to the village to recuperate fully before pushing on deeper into the ruins. Climbing out of the ravine was made more difficult by the giggling Mephit which had untied the rope allowing us to get out … but Elsa and Ebb climbed the wall, retied it, and we all safely exited. And so it was back to Oakhurst, arriving by nightfall, with our less than encouraging news about the fate of the adventurers.

Whilst the others rest on the following day, Lowan and Alathor explain to Kerowyn that the signs are not good, but to keep hopeful until we return with firmer news. Buy some additional rations and supplies (the merchant disbelieving Lowan’s claim that we were poor upon seeing Alathor dragging round a large bag of silver florins!) At the armoury I exchange my scale mail armour for a lighter chain shirt.

16 Arn-monath

Returning to the chasm, and after taking quite some time to actually decipher our own map fragments to work out which way we came, we found our way back down the shaft to the second level.

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• DEEPER INTO THE ABYSS

Gradually we explored the caverns and ruined halls beyond, soon finding another host of goblins. They don’t prove too much of an obstacle – Lowan took two out all by himself! We followed this up with another two Bugbears with Cuthain and I heroically leading the charge hehe.

Further chambers, invariably filled with rotting and ruined detritus, stretched on and on, occasionally enlivened by the distinctly odd sight of cultivated grass and saplings in amongst the chaos. And more goblins too. In a very large cavern another ten of the mysterious living thorn bushes attacked but, although Lowan and Alathor fell unconscious, they were repelled. From here we could see a much larger tree on rising ground in the far distance. This felt to me like a real change in landscape and that we should double check a few more of the unexplored leads in the sections we had already travelled. Amazingly, everyone agreed!

So we retraced our steps and, very soon, rather wished we hadn’t. A horrible giant worm of some five foot in length viciously attacked me out of nowhere and with a flash of intense, searing heat I was unconscious – and on fire! Thankfully (as you can tell by the fact I’m writing this!), the others were on hand to rescue me (and it was my hero Lowan who apparently rushed first to my side!!). After that drama we rested up for the night.

17 Arn-monath

Ahem. I didn’t learn my lesson. Another room held a set of worm holes, and upon my investigation, another large wriggly thing appeared, until Cuthain hammered it with a mighty, mighty blow. There appeared to be nothing of much interest anywhere else, and so we returned towards the larger tree.

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• THE BATTLE OF OUR LIVES

It was a thing of twisted, blackened evil, reaching up into the sky. Around it were arrayed a series of figures. The terrifying central creature announced himself as Belac, known as the Outcast, thrown out by Druidic society for his experiments against nature. He was, to say the least, displeased by the havoc we had wrought upon his kingdom. With him were a giant frog (no, really), three more living trees, and, we realised in horror, the enslaved forms of Breyford and Sharwyn. I gripped my sword handle tightly and closed in …

And if we ever encounter a closer, more fraught battle, I for one will be amazed (not to mention almost certainly dead). We never gave up hope but the cause was so very nearly lost. Cuthain accounted for the remains of Breyford with his power to Smite Evil, but was left all but mortally wounded soon after; worse still, Belac had cast Entangle, binding almost everyone in their places and preventing us even reaching him, never mind helping him. Somehow, he held on to life, though we feared him lost. I killed the frog, but then I too expended what I truly believed to be my dying blow on one of the trees and collapsed to the ground. By some extraordinary miracle, though, Ebb managed to down Belac with his bow whilst Traugar at last wrestled himself free of the binds and staunched my wounds on the very edge of death. The final tree was soon dispatched and, as the rest of the party tended our wounds and slowly revived Cuthian and I, we knew we had undoubtedly been in the battle of our young adventuring lives. How we all survived I will never know. The True Saviour must have been with us.

Whilst we lay on the ground incapacitated, but grateful to be alive, the others checked the bodies. Through bleary eyes I was thrilled to see that Breyford had been carrying a longsword! Lowan shouted over that it looked a fine piece and, interpreting the runes inscribed on the handle, that it appeared to be named Shatterspike. Suddenly the whole battle was almost worth it!!

As we came round, attention turned to the large Gultharus tree. It emanated a strong sense of evil … and we decided the best route was to burn it down. We watch it go up in flames in solemn silence.

18 Arn-monath

Having rested up yet again, we picked our way back through the caverns. On the way Lowan found a box of papers which explained something of the dark history of the citadel; the tree had arisen from a stake placed through the heart of a vampire and had the power to absorb and enslave it’s captives; hence the grim fate of Breyford and Sharwyn. There was also correspondence between Belac and a man called Jakk, relating to the poisoning of a silver mine near the village of Duvik’s Pass. The village was a few days journey from the Citadel and the letters piqued our curiosity to investigate …

Meanwhile we had a sad task to undertake; we returned to Oakhurst to pass on our news to the Hucrele family. Poor Kerowyn was distraught of course.

Repaired to the Old Boar once again. I was curious about the former owner of my new sword, and I was pleased to hear poor Sir Breyford had been very highly regarded during his short stay in the village before he met his terrible end. What’s more, I also learned that Shatterspike had a fabled power to sunder opponent’s weapons.

19 Arn-monath

Oakhurst had a small merchant’s store, so we exchanged some of our treasures. There was no news of any further problems at the farm, so we headed off in the vague direction of Duvik’s Pass – several days travel to the north.

22 Arn-monath

A few days had passed quietly as we journeyed onwards through undulating countryside. On the 22nd we were attacked by a mighty Ankheg, but I brought it down and thereafter we pressed on safely.

---

• THE STRANGE CASE OF THE TWO-HEADED GIANT

23 Arn-monath

The afternoon of a beautiful Autumn day brought us to a small village amid the pastures, gathered around a stone tower under construction. A peaceful image – shattered only by the sight of a huge two-headed humanoid figure disappearing into the trees clutching a cow!! As they do, obviously?!

The villagers of Newkeep (hence the name) told us that the Giant’s attacks had been going on for a couple of weeks. It was not the first strange event to afflict the village, however; according to Restic and Malwick, two years ago the population was forced to flee their old village when a malevolent wizard called Standyllus seized their former stronghold. They had set up home just a few miles away and begun construction of a new castle at once. However, a group of adventurers had apparently killed the wizard very recently –in fact, at about the same time as the giant first appeared. The timing seemed a little suspicious to say the least …

Inevitably, we agreed to do all we could to help out. Aranda, one of the Elders, lived in the Keep and was able to tell us a little more and arrange us some lodgings. Lowan, Cuthain, Alathor and I were to stay with a sweet old lady called Hannah, whilst the other two were taken to Temmet’s brewhouse. No surprise what the attraction there was!

Apparently the giant had also been seen in the night-time – but, oddly enough, had never caused any trouble or inflicted any damage after dark. So that night we camped out in the hope of learning something more about him. Sure enough, he reappeared, and Ebb began tracking him. Much to our surprise, he was followed to a shrine in the village where – stranger still – he seemed to be praying! ‘Help me’, he balefully repeated over and over.

Tentatively, Ebb approached the giant and, taking the greatest of care, was able to get him to talk. He was once an ordinary man, cursed by Standyllus before his death and now increasingly under the control of the second evil head – which was snoring next to his own!! He begged us to release him and fled before his other personality reasserted itself.

24 Arn-monath

Next morning we set off on the next logical step – to explore the ruins of the old village – but not before pleading with the villagers to give us a chance to try to save rather than kill him.

En route we had to kill two small ogres (one had knocked Lowan unconscious so I took exception to this and charged to his rescue), but soon we reached the tumbledown remains of the old village. The tower stood alone in the centre and the giant was clearly inside. We waited until he left – though as I pointed out, goodness knows what havoc he might wreak in the village while we tried to find the answer inside …

It was very largely in ruins, but we had not explored far when a frantic knock on the door brought Restic with news that Malwick had persuaded the villagers on a surely suicidal plan to attack the giant and were even now roaming in search of him. Alathor leant out of the doorway and shouted in Giant ‘All Giants Smell!’ … but no-one except him was quite sure why.

We knew we had to get back to them as quickly as possible, but still, we also felt the answer to the riddle might lie there in the tower. Most of it was burnt out, but we did find one clue; a Polymorph scroll, which perhaps explained his transformation. We also found a magical sword which Lowan gratefully took.

Running back to the village we found a battle raging at the entrance. We joined and carried out our plan to knock the creature out without killing him. Our intention then was to cast Polymorph upon him and transform him back to a human, though we had no idea exactly what effect this might cause. Waking his ‘good’ head, however, he begged us not to do this and to instead solve the riddle of the shrine. To cut a long story short(er), we eventually deduced that he had (unintentionally) betrayed the just principles of his god and, upon bringing him to realise this, the curse was broken and his form returned to normal. Kyrnyn, for that was his name, vowed to stay in the village and help atone for his crimes by rebuilding their lives.

Meanwhile, I was deeply concerned to learn from Lowan that he wasn’t quite sure where he saw his future; after all, he was used to wandering between inns and festivals, not plunging into the dark halls of the underworld every other day. That night he entertained the villagers quite brilliantly, and I resolved not to pressure him to stay with us. Well, not too much, anyway.

We then spent four days helping the villagers in their bridge-rebuilding endeavours. Our work in the village completed, we headed off on the 29th – northwest towards the Serpentcoil Hills, and the village of Duvik’s Pass.

(56) A Note on Paladins

It was a sure sign that I had ventured a little further south, for the Paladin is a rare sight indeed in the more primitive shires of northern Ellesland! I shall therefore briefly relate what I know of Paladin ways and traditions.

The True Faith was of course founded by Gatanades - according to the Imperial Church of Selentium, in the year 21 AS.* In a tumultuous era when the Empire was crumbling, and the nefarious forces of evil+ had begun creeping into the borders of human civilization, there appeared a knight of Imperial Selentium named Rocheval, the ‘Light that shone for all’. Some say that Rocheval was a disciple of Gatanades, while other accounts claim that they were close friends – but when Gatanades died a martyr, Rocheval journeyed south to spread the Faith. But one thing that all historians agree on – Rocheval founded an order of paladins ("God’s holy warriors") in Molasaria that became one of the most powerful forces of law, justice and goodness in those times. To this day, the original templar in Molasaria still stands as the headquarters of the Paladins of St. Rocheval, though of course there are other training monasteries scattered further afield, including one or two in southern Albion where Cuthain was schooled.

Followers of Saint Rocheval carry an insignia of a scarlet pointed cross on a white background, and the priests and paladins of St. Rocheval display their colours prominently on their surcoats and robes. A paladin is thus a warrior of God, one who fights in the name of the True Faith.

One is usually initiated into the Order of Saint Rocheval at a tender age to begin a life of intensive spiritual and physical training. Exceptions do occur: in the last five years, there have been knights of distinguished backgrounds (two Tamorian Cataphracts and one Knight Capellar) who have been accepted into the Order to join the ranks of the Paladins of St. Rocheval.

* Scholars claim the actual date to be 27 AS when Emperor Josturox made it the official faith of the Empire, many years after Gatanades had died.
+ From the South Emphidian range, there were several invasions of armies of orcs and halvorcs – a species said to be born of an unholy union between an ogre and orc, now thought to be extinct. From the further reaches of the Empire, in what is now Algandy, there were the dark-elves.

(55) Arn 1013AS: Alathor Cuthain Traugar & Ebb

The last few weeks have flown by – a life of touring the Inns and festivals certainly has its merits!! Lowan and I have been travelling in southern Albion towards his homelands and enjoying ourselves tremendously. As yet I’m still working on the rest by the way … ! We have been earning our keep as we go, Lowan playing and me helping out behind the scenes. Along the way we have been involved in a couple of minor skirmishes, but although we have been looking out for *opportunities* it has been a fairly quiet and, well, nicely civilized time.

However, I resume this journal now because events have recently conspired to overtake us again. We are in the foothills of the Umber Downs on the edge of Daggerdale, the northernmost of the Dales and close to where Lowan was born. This part of Albion is famous (infamous?) for its fierce electrical storms, so much so that it has given rise to a custom called Stormpeace. It dictates that even sworn enemies shall grant shelter to their opponents for the duration of the storm if they so require it. The Autumn months are most susceptible to such events and, as luck would have it, we were caught in one just last week …

---

• IN SEARCH OF SHELTER

8 Arn-monath

I suppose we should have known. The sky had been darkening all day, by late afternoon accompanied by the ominous peal of thunder in the distance and flashes of lightning illuminating the hills. Lowan is amazingly knowledgeable about the local history, traditions and myths of the area, and had been entertaining me with the tale of how the hills were long ago home to a cruel tribe of ogres who buried their dead in tomb complexes excavated from the hillsides. The ruined tor of Hightower was said to conceal the last remnants of one of these catacombs and, what do you know, the very same tower was looming up ahead of us just as the storm really began to break.

The tor was the obvious source of respite from the storm, despite the legends surrounding it, but Lowan also knew that the entrance to the tombs had long since been blocked by a giant stone seal preventing their misuse in the future. Nevertheless, it seemed more likely to offer shelter than anywhere else close at hand. Approaching it, then, we were astonished to find the seal scattered into pieces on the ground – presumably it had been struck by lightning at some point in the recent past. A 20 foot high archway now opened into the blackness of the hillside, offering safety and protection – of a sort …

Inside was a dusty and ruined chamber with another three exits, but all were guarded by large, heavy, and locked doors. We shivered in the gloom and waited for the storm to pass.

Much to our surprise, however, as we looked out into the miserable rain, we saw another four figures struggling up the hillside. Lowan, realising they were at least dressed as adventurers, called out to them and asked if they sought Stormpeace. Evidently they were in fact strangers to the area, but they appeared friendly enough and so we hurried them into the shelter and introduced ourselves. And thus fate delivered to us new companions; a Paladin, no less, named Cuthain of the White Rose; a Sorcerer, Alathor, a little arrogant but with his heart seemingly in the right place; Ebb Derrick, who described himself as a rogue; and Traugar Ungart, a Dwarven cleric who had saved Ebb from the injuries sustained in an attack in some back alley – and in so doing had forever won his gratitude (whether desired or not!). Traugar, as with all of his brethren, was predisposed towards being rather gruff in his manner, but of course I have already encountered quite enough Dwarves to be well familiar with their ways!!

Outside the storm showed no signs of abating, and so we agreed to make camp together for at least that night. They too had little adventuring experience, and so offering support seemed entirely sensible. Indeed, by the time we settled down around a small fire, we were well on the way to becoming firm friends. Lowan was inspired to play for them, but even I must admit it was not to be his finest hour; nerves, maybe?! Anyway, he gave up on that and began explaining the history of Hightower instead, which was safer ground at least. His next effort was a ballad, which was overlong and, dare I say, a little dull, and I’m sad to say merely caused general yawning all round, expressions of tiredness, exclamations at the lateness of the hour and the like. Poor Lowan! Even *geniuses* have their off-nights I suppose!!

Before anyone was to find their sleep, however, another almighty crash of thunder overhead was enough to send all three doors simultaneously crashing to the floor, rudely interrupting the general soporific mood. Not least because rats burst in on all sides as the doors fell, spooking us, although thankfully streaming out through the main entrance without further ado.

Cautiously we explored beyond the left-hand of the fallen doors, casting aside all thoughts of sleep for now. Ebb moved silently up ahead to scout whatever might lie deeper inside the tomb. Traugar investigated further too using his gift of darkvision, only to shout in horror and send us rushing forwards to his aid; a terrible shrieking noise echoed around the chamber, all but paralysing Cuthain and Lowan with fear, followed by the dread sight of a Death’s Head flying out of the darkness to attack. Fortunately, one mighty swing of my trusty longsword and it was felled! Summer may have been great fun, but it was equally good to be back in the saddle!!

The sarcophagus it came from was empty, so we returned to the main chamber and tried another way, finding a large chest in the next room. Ebb set off a dart trap in trying to disarm the lock mechanism, but inside lay about 100 coins, two pearls, and a headband. I rather liked the leather band, studded with small iron rivets, and so placed it around my head with no apparent ill-effects. In the next hall dangled a rope climbing up a shaft in the ceiling which evidently ran right up to the night sky, judging by the rain falling steadily down onto the floor below. Pondering whether this was an access made by tomb robbers, we were set upon by two hobgoblin raiders, which presumably gave us the answer. Thank goodness Cuthain and I disposed of them.

Yet another chamber was dominated by a large stone table, housing the large corpse of a humanoid … which lumbered to its feet to meet us. This was the Dark Knight, the zombie remnant of the Ogre King laid to rest in this tomb. Though, much to my distress, Lowan was knocked out, we prevailed. Cuthain, sensing the pervasive evil at play and doing his Paladin duty, set fire to the remains whilst we revived Lowan.

One final room housed many wrapped bodies, but before we could enter I became entangled in a fine web stretched across the doorway in the gloom. I managed to free myself and help defeat the attached giant spider, and we then returned to the hobgoblin room and examined the rope once more. Nothing else untoward here, so we at last settled down to rest and wait out the storm.

(54) Waed 1013AS: Meeting Lowan

4 Waed-monath

It was the first Freyasdae of Waed-monath, the festival of Midsummer in Axbridge. The Inn had played host to all manner of revelries and feasts during the week and there was of course music and song playing throughout. On this particular night there was a bard playing whose virtuosity with the fiddle so bewitched me that I might have sworn it was magical. And I must say, so was he … I thought he was just wonderful! He kept the crowd enraptured all night long and performed little tricks and sleights of hand alongside his playing and singing. During the evening I managed to introduce myself; his full name was Lowanthal Tremillin, although he usually went by the shortened form of Lowan, and he was 23 years old with beautiful shining blue eyes *sigh*. I think I may have blushed just a few times as we talked!!

The next couple of days were blissful. Lowan was playing at the Inn until the next Syfsdae and each night I was there, captivated. I wasn’t sure if he returned my feelings but we talked a great deal, and I learned that he too was an aspiring adventurer. His home was the ancient village of Malmesbury near Cantorbridge, down in the Dalelands, where he was born the second son of an Innkeeper. When the time came for him to move on, the thought of not seeing him again was heartbreaking; so it took only moments (and only then because Harry had misgivings about the whole idea) for me to accept his invitation to travel with him for the rest of the summer. He still has a couple of festivals to perform at, and after that … well, you never know just where the next big adventure might lead us!

(53) Thawian 1013AS: Elan & more goodbyes

1 Thawian-monath

And so we ‘fearlessly’ entered a crevice in the cliff-face; at which point Elan coughed loudly and triggered a rockfall!! Now that would really have been a pathetic way to die, but we escaped injury. Clearing our way through we found a rough-hewn passageway leading deeper into the chasm, emerging in a dank cavern with three large cells – the last of which housed a fresh skeleton with meat still hanging off it. Felt distinctly queasy.

A secret passageway off this chamber revealed what from the inscription seemed to be the dagger of Steelbraid himself. Elan picked it up, nervously. And … nothing happened. Perhaps for the best. From there we crossed a deep ravine into another slime-covered chamber with a cell housing an odd dog-like skeleton in it. As I set out to investigate a horrible slimy creature fell from the roof onto me … *yeuch*. Still, between us we disposed of it and pressed on.

Here yet another chasm was crossed by a rickety old bridge ... which was in turn supported by giant mushrooms! Now, I’m no engineer, but somehow I doubt that your average master bridge-builder would use a fungus in place of nice, solid, stone supports. We looked around for volunteers. Elan cautiously crawled his way across, followed by Shenty who, er, didn’t; she slipped halfway but landed safely enough on a ledge a little way under the bridge. Jesper and I then inched our way over. Tarquin then tried to cross, tied to Caj’s rope for safety; he too slipped off but was suspended by the rope. As he clambered back up, however, the bridge disastrously broke in the middle, leaving Tarquin clinging on for dear life … Thankfully we were able to haul him up and, bracing our weight against him, we had Caj swing across on the rope before being able to help her and Shenty back to safety too.

On the far side Jesper found a beautifully crafter onyx Throwing Axe, and from there we climbed stairs into yet another chamber. Here was a cot in which rested the skeleton of a dwarf which we presumed to be Steelbraid, not least because laid alongside him was the fabled Battleaxe. Confirmation came as the skeleton crumbled before our eyes, accompanied by a ghostly scream and the appearance of a Portal with a black apparition peering through …

The figure sent five orcs through to fight us, which, though Elan was knocked unconscious, we were able to dispatch. All fell quiet. A search of the cot revealed the talisman we were seeking, carved with dwarven runes, together with a map showing hidden rooms deep within the complex. We took all of these items with us. Following the map deeper into the caves, we found a small shaft which I offered to jump down; doing so, I emerged in another underground hall occupied by the gory, humanoid figure we had glimpsed through the Portal – a Black Zombie, the tragic final incarnation of the gnome who had been Steelbraid’s nemesis. With the help of Caj and Jesper we felled it. The legend was laid to rest at last.

Returning outside, the dwarven party led us back to their stronghold where a celebratory feast was held in our honour – and this time without a hint of suspicion over our intentions! They did, of course, take back both the talisman and the Axe. Thanking us once again for our help and with hearty good wishes ringing in our ears, we were led back out of the mountains and left back in Hellfax Woods close to the Ashmore Trail.

And so our entanglement with the dwarves of Ulrag-Nazar was at last ended.

3 Thawian-monath

Our adventuring, though, was far from over. Making camp that very night, Elan was thoroughly spooked by the appearance of a ghostly figure in the firelight, and in the same moment all of our enchanted items mysteriously disappeared. Searching around the woods for clues, we stumbled across a ruined tower. At the entrance was a guardhouse manned by skeletons, not all of which were human ... Barely even a few hours rest from our last escapade, but we were off again!

---

• NARAHUD’S GHOST AND THE STEALING OF ELAN

Warily, then, we entered the tower. Elan and I were dropped on by two giant spiders (what is it with things dropping on my head?!), which we killed before exploring what had been kitchens on the ground floor and then heading upstairs to find bedrooms and a library. We were also flummoxed by an entirely empty room. Empty rooms always make us extra suspicious! Still, under one of the beds we found the journal of someone called Narahud, which at last shed some light upon the mystery. The author told us that his responsibility had been to the ‘preservation of my Lord Eldrick’s magic items’, whilst documenting the increasing threat posed by a band of lizardmen circling outside and seeking to break into the tower. The harrowing account told of the killing of an apprentice (Leos) and ended with the lizardmen finally gaining access to the tower and rampaging up the stairs …

In a second library the hunched, ghostly figure of what seemed likely to be Narahud sat endlessly reading through large tomes. The apparition stayed until the point of sunrise and then vanished. Hmmm. We wondered quite what to do next. History and folklore have long fascinated me, so some more research in the library seemed appropriate; reading through the dusty volumes suggested that Eldrick was in fact a direct ancestor of Barons Alexander and Aldred, living some 250 years ago.

Further searching also revealed that we were indeed right to suspect the hitherto empty room; one of walls was illusory and in fact concealed our store of missing items! Retrieving them, however, merely upset the ghost of Narahud which reappeared, demanding that we surrender ‘his’ possessions and proclaiming it to be 763 AS! Negotiating with a figure fixated on hoarding magic items and who died a quarter of a millennium ago was never likely to be easy, and it promptly attacked when we declined to co-operate. In the end though it proved a less fearsome opponent than my own friend, Shenty nearly decapitating me while wildly swinging her axe in its general direction!!

However, worse was to follow. A final look around the Tower uncovered a few scrolls and other items, one of which was a small charm. Elan placed it around his neck, only to discover that it was what we now know to be an Amulet of Soul-Storing ... To our collective horror his spirit was displaced by what seemed to be an apprentice of Eldrick, who at once fled the tower. We followed our possessed friend as best we could, though evidently the soul formerly trapped within the charm was fleet of foot and adept at covering his tracks.

---

• CHASING ELAN/ARVON

4 Thawian-monath

The weather closed in during the day as we kept up our pursuit heading vaguely south-west. We had a hunch that the apprentice might head for his former master’s home, the baronial castle at Colborn.

A rustling in the undergrowth transpired to be nothing more than a startled stag, although it almost caught Jesper as it fled. Then, deeper into the woods in the afternoon gloom, we hit a narrow hunting trail running east-west. Crossing it to the south, however, Shenty found some recent footprints, suggesting not only that we were hopefully on the right trail but also that she was developing impressive tracking skills of her own! We followed the prints, but soon a light led us to a small trading post – from which emanated raised voices and the distinct sound of a woman sobbing.

Pausing for closer inspection, we introduced ourselves. Between sobs the distraught woman explained that her husband had been turned to stone before her eyes and her 10 year old daughter kidnapped. The perpetrator of these crimes sounded depressingly similar to Elan (if only in physical appearance of course) and, coughing a little uncomfortably, we offered to help. Her friend Tepp, an elderly tracker, volunteered his assistance and we prepared to pick up the trail at first light next morning.

5 Thawian-monath

Finding the path taken by ‘Elan’ once again, Tepp believed that he still had several hours head start on us. No time to waste.

An hour’s journey brought us to a clearing marked by a scorched thorn bush. Shenty cornered another lone bush, explaining that she was concerned it may attack; the resounding laughter of the remainder of the party was quickly dispelled as we realised that she was right and that they were in fact Thorn Demons. Thankfully we defeated all six and pushed on till mid-day. Shortly afterwards Tepp held up his hand and calmly announced that we were surrounded … by gnomes. Fortunately he was able to reassure them we meant no harm and on we traveled.

A cloudy late afternoon brought us to another clearing and a small pool, next to which sat the young girl who had been kidnapped. But as we rushed to the rescue, she turned to us and intoned ‘you are too late’ … chilling words which we realised were horribly true upon seeing the lifeless form floating in the pool. We survived the fright attack of her ghost, but retrieving her strangled body from the water was a grim task indeed. Evidently Elan’s possessor was both an evil and remorseless creature.

Terrifyingly powerful, too; hurrying towards the sounds of battle nearby, we witnessed the peculiar sight of Elan’s body standing on a rock, impervious to the arrows raining down upon him from the seven orcs surrounding him. In return he simply blasted one to death and then summoned a huge lion into the clearing. Tarquin gambled on reading one of the scrolls retrieved from Narahud’s tower, but to no discernible effect. There seemed little choice but to watch the battle unfold as we certainly did not feel powerful enough to halt it.

Gradually, however, the onslaught seemed to weaken ‘Elan’ and, feeling emboldened, Tarquin attempted another move, this time with astonishing results. A direct hit with a Dragonbreath knocked him unconscious, although it also attracted the attention of the orcs. Their stomach for battle was also lessened, however, and the last couple ran off.

Relieved, we securely bound the wizard/Elan and brought him round. Our attempts to talk to him did not get us very far, not least because Caj took it upon herself to punch him and knock him out again. All we discovered was that he believed his name to be Arvon. Woke him up once more and decided to experiment with the amulet – after all, it seemed logical, although it was the first time we had come across such a phenomenon and until then had little idea what to do about it. Holding Arvon down to restrain his protestations, we placed the charm over his head again … and thankfully within a minute what seemed to be Elan reappeared, none the wiser about any of the recent shocking events.

The amulet was smashed against the nearest rock as quickly as possible. A final piercing scream was heard echoing around the woods …

6 Thawian-monath

Parted ways with Tepp next morning. The mood was distinctly downbeat. He was deeply suspicious of our unlikely-sounding explanation of Elan’s actions and, naturally, wished to relay at once his distressing news about the poor lost girl. The day had been greeted with a wintry combination of sleet, rain and snow, and we trudged our way miserably through the woods in what we hoped was the rough direction of Axbridge.

By nightfall we had reached within a few hundred yards of the edge of the woods, but still someway north-west of the village, only to find another interesting diversion in the deepening snowdrifts; what I thought from local legend to be the disused remains of the old Grenger Manor House. This was once the home of Torin Grenger, who, rumour had it, slew his own family before killing himself as well, not surprisingly leaving behind a rich legacy of ghosts and hauntings. Supposedly he had also left behind the family fortune ... But it was an urgent need for shelter rather than the thought of treasure that led us to contemplate going inside. After the number of ghostly encounters we had endured lately, only the alternative of freezing to death outside in the snow could have persuaded us to risk yet another.

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• THE GHOSTS OF GRENGER MANOR

Upon entering, the first sign that all was not as it might have been came in the kitchen; much to our surprise we were greeted with a roaring fire which flared up as we came in and a disembodied voice ordering us as Lord of the Manor to ‘get out of my house’. Not quite abandoned, then. Beyond were a dining room and a music room (I picked up a small flute from here). More worrying was the fact that the strange noises continued; moans and clanging of chains abounded, though all apparently without a source. In a moulding library Elan found a book on exorcism, and Tarquin a volume entitled Light Of The Sun, again about spirits and suchlike. It was that kind of place. Still, we were getting somewhat used to this sort of thing. All was in ruins.

The house appeared *physically* unoccupied throughout, and we had little choice but to stay for the night in any case. It still provoked an argument even so. Tarquin and Jesper insisted on staying in the Master Bedroom, while the rest of us made for the laundry downstairs. Now, Tarquin always likes the finer things in life, but the fact that the bed seemed alarmingly well kept and even looked like it may have been slept in *quite recently* was enough to deter the rest of us …

In the middle of the night our uneasy sleep was indeed disturbed by a group of seven ruffians, who sprung upon us, it seemed, out of nowhere. We fought them off (although a bowman called Turg ran away) and dashed upstairs to check on Tarquin and Jesper, only to find them calmly settled down with the ‘Lord’ of the house trussed up and his ‘Lady’ sitting defeated on the bed!! In fact these opportunists were called Telford and Midina and had taken over the house, keeping the band of thugs we met downstairs as retainers and using simple tricks and devices to frighten off would-be intruders such as us. Except we don’t frighten that easily!

Tarquin had taken Telford’s impressive looking Club as a weapon. Then we persuaded Midina, under some duress, to show us properly around the house with its hidden passageways and, ultimately, its crypt. But as we entered the latter, the door swung ominously shut behind us. Midina insisted there was another exit and led us on through nightmarish damp caverns of shrieking mushrooms and bodies strewn about. A flying skull leapt into eerie life and attacked Elan, before disappearing down a small hole. Soon Shenty was shock attacked from the shadows by what seemed most likely to have been Turg. Shenty’s response was to seize Midina and, holding a knife to her throat, order Turg to show himself. As we looked on aghast Shenty touched the knife against her skin … but Turg did not answer the call and Shenty relented.

Another chamber contained the still bleeding body of an orc, and the next several dead orcs next to a sleeping, if badly wounded, bear. Again forcing the truth from Midina we learned that she and Telford were former adventurers turned petty thieves and raiders, in turn raided themselves by the orcs who had since come to grief here in the caverns which the bear had made its home. We retrieved some of the stolen gold scattered about and, at last, emerged blinking into the half-light of the dawn outside. We decided there was little option but to release Midina, although I like to think that the salutary experience of the last day had encouraged her to change her ways.

We then realised with depressing familiarity that we had been surrounded (note to self: must pay more attention in future), this time by Centaurs. They had come to claim back their own precious artefact, the Chieftan’s Club that Tarquin had taken. We were only too pleased to return it to its rightful owner and be on our way.

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• HOME FIRES AND FAREWELLS

7 Thawian-monath

Now, we had not had a single day’s rest from our adventures since our first meeting in Norham. It was hard to believe that I had only been travelling with my companions for just over two weeks; somehow it felt like much, much longer! I for one was therefore delighted to reach the safety of the place I called home when later that morning we arrived in a snow-bound Axbridge.

My first port of call, naturally enough, was to The Skewer and Staff to catch up on the news with Niphrodel. I introduced my new-found friends to everyone and looked forward at last to some lengthy rest and recuperation in the Inn, er, I mean, the village. Alas, here was another dilemma; Tarquin in particular wished to push on, whereas I was very much enjoying the comforts of home (and a roaring fire) and wanted us to stay for a while. But I suppose it was inevitable that he would feel spending any longer than necessary in a simple village tavern was a little beneath him!

Anyhow, my mind was resolved that evening. Forrus called at the Inn, having been told of my return and being eager to hear about our exploits. Moreover, he had a proposition for me; he was accompanying my father to a Baronial Court at Castle Colborne in two weeks and wondered if I should like to travel with them. Here was my chance to learn more of the running of the fiefdom at first-hand, for, whilst I may have yet been thwarted in my ambitions of becoming a Knight-At-Arms, I certainly still hoped to take on some greater responsibility in the future.

However, this was a personal quest which I knew at once the others did not share. During the evening they decided instead to continue onwards, and so it was – with great reluctance, not to mention a few tears – that I bade farewell to my friends the following morning. I had become especially close to Shenty, and I very much hope that our paths shall cross again one day.

As they left the village I waved goodbye very sadly, but I didn’t have too long to feel sorry for myself because it was of course wonderful to be back amongst family and friends. Best of all, Harry was back home from his studies, full of tales of life at the Abbey. And so the next two weeks passed considerably more quickly and pleasantly than the previous ones had!!

Still, having had a taste of life beyond the confines of the village, I was equally excited when we set off on the journey to Colborn. The business of the Court was, I suppose, too everyday to bear repeating here, but to be involved – even just as an assistant to Forrus – was great experience indeed.

During Spring I toured several more times with him in a similar capacity, but nevertheless I was feeling refreshed and thought it was probably time I was out on my own again. In the event, my life took another strange turn …