The Death of Vlad

Vlad was eager to pursue Burne’s quest with or without his associates.  Ed and Kirito, two wanderers who were passing through Hommlet on their way to nonwhere in particular were persuaded to join him.  Chrono the druid, whom he’dknown since Gold Hill agreed to join the party.

Burne escorted the group to the moathouse himself and introduced them to his guards.  These guards, in the interest of full transparency, admitted to the adventurers that while they considered themselves braver and stronger than most men, they absolutely refused to explore the dungeon below them and were only willing to garrison the moathouse itself because Burne paid well.  It wasn’t death that they were afraid of.  Death, they laughed, was not the worst alternative.

Burne explained once more what he was looking for—pools of water.  Not natural cave pools, but artfully constructed.  With writing on the walls.  They would know them when they found them.

The guards dutifully moved aside the assorted debris they had piled on top of the trapdoor that led into the dungeon.  Vlad led the way and the adventurers started down the rough wooden stairs.  About halfway down, a glob of bright green slime fell from ceiling onto Vlad, gliding off his mantle and landing on his leather gauntlet and his sword.  Vlad flung away his sword and.  More slime fell from the ceiling, this time landing on the stairs. Chrono scraped at it with his staff.  To his chagrin, the slime burned away his staff.  The slime was corrosive to both leather and metal and other weapons were lost before Ed scorched it with his torch. The slime smoldered and sparked and then burst into flame, quickly burning to a black smudge.

At the bottom of the stairs was a large room with two locked closets.  Ed picked the locks and found storerooms filled with weapons and other supplies.  Vlad chose a replacement sword, and the urged his companions to explore further.  Charging down a pillared corridor, Vlad was surprised by a shuffling undead man that beat him over the head with its rotting limbs.  Vlad spun on his heel shouting his war cry and destroyed the zombie with two solid strokes of his sword.  As his companions rushed to his aid, more zombies poured out of the row of dungeon cells that lined the corridor.

The zombies seemed drawn to Vlad and Vlad gleefully strode into their midst, swinging his sword in mighty, reckless arcs, cleaving bones and flesh, dropping enemies in a pile around him and  hardly noticing the rain of blows that fell on his head and shoulders.  Kirito could see that Vlad was nearly overwhelmed and fought through the horde of zombies to assist his companion.  But Vlad, in a blind battle rage, did not distinguish friend from foe; Kirito barely dodged what could have been a lethal blow.  Ed and Chrono flanked the zombies but did not dare engage them in melee.  Only when Vlad fell and dropped his sword did Kirito find an opportunity to plunge into the thick of the battle.  He killed two of the zombies and called on Ed and Chrono to help pull Vlad to safety.  Chrono tried to heal Vlad, but it was too late.  Kirito held the zombies at bay while Ed and Chrono carried Vlad’s body toward the stairs.

Kirito suffered a serious wound and retreated.  The zombies pursued, but slowly and without coordination; they were further hampered by arrows from Ed’s bow.  Chrono reached the stairs and called for help from the guards.  Two of them, forgetting their oaths of cowardice, rushed down to help carry Vlad’s body.  Ed tossed his torch at the zombies and was the last one up.

All the guards helped pile stones and firewood and furniture on top of the trapdoors as the zombies came clomping off the stairs.  For hours the zombies pounded mindlessly on the other side of the trapdoor.

Vlad was buried in Hommlet, in his armor, and without his hard-won mantle.  It was gone.

Garan Fest 3: Evil defeated! A New Champion Exalted!

The third day of the competition was in horseback riding and jumping. Vlad, whose grew up tending apples (along with listening to his grandfather’s prophecies and learning to fashion silver crossbow bolts) had never sat on a horse before. He was eliminated in the first round. (Roquelle and Sir Henry, meanwhile were not inspired to compete at all.)

Rellum, a local tanner noted that Mark seemed to have little interest in either the martial competition or the accompanying revelry and suggested that maybe he was “Some kind of wizard? I’ve known people like you.” Mark tried to put a quick end to the conversation, but the Tanner persisted, advertising his services in “custom covers for valuable books.” Made from dragon hide according to the Tanner. Mark said that he’d think about it and told his friends about the strange man’s offer. Vlad was still nursing a sore shoulder and his injured pride, but Thoric agreed to help find the Tanner’s shop. Asking around they heard that the Tanner was new in town and had taken over the old Tanner’s shop next to the well. Mark and Thoric located the shop, but found it closed. By this time, Vlad was back on his feet and eager to restore his pride. He convinced his friend to visit the festival tents and they cheered him on in a test of strength with a visiting strongman. (Vlad lost.)

Wandering on the outskirts of the festival ground, the party met Oli the village drunk and Februm the village loanshark. Having just received a beating from Februm and his toughs, Oli was grateful for a sack of wine and he told them what he knew about Garanton and the festival. This was very little, but Mark and Vlad were perplexed about one fact he told him—every year, the winner of the competition receives the Mantle of Garan—a black velvet cloak that according to legend once belonged to Garan himself. The same black velvet cloak? How? Oli asked for more wine and passed out.

That evening, they met someone else who also found it strange the same gift should be given away every year. Mikail Vetter, hero of the day’s riding completion was being feted at the tavern—and acting completely miserable. The party followed him out of the tavern and learned the reason for his mood. Both his grandfather and his father had won the mantle—and then gone off to war, never to be seen again. None of the winners were still around today. Only the mantle.

That evening, the party went on patrol with their red moss torches. They talked to some patrolling friars and questioned them about the history of Garan and the festival. The friar extolled Garan’s martial virtues of good words and deeds. Especially deeds. Garan led the uprising against 3 evil brothers who had terrorized the land. As they explained it, the winner of the festival customarily accepted the mantle and then went forth to seek glory and do honorable words and deeds. “Why should a hero spend his days in a sleepy village like this one?” Such heroes would of course be welcomed, but they couldn’t name any who actually had returned during their years at the abbey. But the mantle itself, they agreed, always returned. Taking their leave from the friars, the party went to the top of the hill to check on the arch. The sky was overcast and the arch wasn’t glowing. Reasoning that the shadow demons wouldn’t be a threat, the party called it a night.

The farmers and artisans rise early in Garanton so when Vlad, Thoric, and Mark did awaken, the village was abuzz with disturbing news: a local man had been killed—apparently by a shadow demon—right in the middle of the village. His body was found near the well. But a festival to honor a legendary warrior must go on regardless of portents and tragedy. Vlad went to testing ground to prepare for the archery contest, one he hoped to win. Vlad and Mark decided to visit Rellum the Tanner. The shop was closed, but they knocked loudly, Mark calling out that he wanted to talk about covering his spellbook. Rellum opened the door and ushered them into his little shop to display samples of his work. His skill was impressive and his price reasonable, but his manner strange. Mark did not like the way the Tanner covetously fingered his spellbook. But the distraction gave Thoric a chance to look around the shop. There was one interior door—with a door placed in fronting of it, jamming it closed. When Thoric tried to wriggle the chair free—but ended up cracking it, Rellum the Tanner snapped angrily and jumped across the room to slam the door shut—but not before Thoric caught a glimpse of a small kitchen in which the rest of Rellum’s furniture was stacked on top of a trapdoor. Mark heard a crashing noise from the cellar. Rellum began to scream that he was being robbed. Thoric and Mark agreed they should leave and went to the archery grounds. They told Vlad that they thought that the missing sculptor was being held prisoner in Rellum’s basement. Vlad agreed that he would go with them to check it out after the archery contest was over. But—when the sculptor’s distraught assistant Deidra heard that someone knew where her master was, she begged them to tell her and, after they did tell, went directly to the Tanner’s house to confront him. Vlad and a few other contestants agreed that they would not start the archery contest until the matter was resolved and went with Thoric and Mark to assist Deidre.

Rellum the Tanner refused to allow anyone inside. A friar joined the negotiations and tried to convince the Tanner that the visitors were not brigands. After a brief argument, Rellum cast a spell on his accusers and most of them fell asleep. Those who remained conscious battered down his door. The shop area had been cleared of small, valuable items. Vlad, Thoric, and Mark moved through it into the kitchen, reaching it just in time to see the shutters fly open. Thoric suggested that the Tanner was a magician and had turned invisible—they braced for an attack. When none came, the party began disassembling the pile of furniture and other heavy objects that held the kitchen trapdoor closed. As they worked, a force began battering against the door from below. Each blow from belong knocked the door open a couple inches and shook the pile of furniture. Thoric out the sculptor’s name and were answered by snarls.

Reasoning that there was a shadow demon in the basement, Vlad lit one of his special red moss torches. The others continued to move furniture. The trapdoor was now bouncing open several inches. A black claw flashed out, grabbing for Vlad’s ankle. He knelt and thrust the torch into the shadow demon’s face. The trapdoor slammed down on Vlad’s arm. He let go of the torch and pulled his arm free.

The party heard frantic commotion in the cellar. The shadow demon was no longer battering the trap door, but instead flying around the cellar, screeching and destroying things. Vlad loaded a crossbow bolt. Mark prepared to cast a spell. Thoric and the friar moved the rest of the furnitutre off the trap door. On the count of three, they opened the trapdoor. Thick, pungent smoke came spilling out, followed by the howling shadow demon. Vlad and Mark both hit it with their respective missiles. As the monster emerged, it was struck by the sunlight from the open window and vaporized.

The friar went out to tell Deidre the good news—the sculptor had been found! And the bad news—Rellum the Tanner had turned him into a demon in order to kill local cows and villagers! And the really good news—the demon had been destroyed by the villagers and now the festival could continue!

Vlad and Thoric checked that the basement was empty of any other shadown demons. Then Vlad wen to compete in the archery contest while Thoric and Mark searched the Tanner’s house. In the attic sleep space, they found a book that purported to tell the True and Secret Story of Garan the Ravager. Nothing about good words and deeds. The arch, according to the book, was built by one of Garan’s two brothers in the course of a fierce three-way sibling rivalry that escalated into war. Garan was killed in the battle with his brothers and buried in a secret tomb. Interesting stuff.

Vlad had another bad day, and was eliminated early from a contest that he had expected to win. He rejoined Thoric and Mark and the three debated their next course of action. They discussed visiting Garan’s tomb. Vlad wanted to return to the ravine near Garan’s tomb to recover the weapons he’d left behind so that he could carry his cousin’s body. But Thoric convinced his fellows that they should investigate the arch. Hadn’t Mark and Vlad seen four shadow demons emerge from the arch on a moonlit night? Shouldn’t they investigate it during the daylight hours?

In the daylight, the arch was just an arch, and the three adventurers discussed destroying it, using a hammer to test whether it was vulnerable to normal methods of destruction. It was—but their work was interrupted by a voice warning them of their imminent destruction. 

In the ensuing conversation, the party resolved that the voice wasn’t coming from the arch or from inside the arch, but from behind a bush or in the ruins nearby. And the voice sounded very much like Rellum the Tanner. He told them that instead of destroying the arch, they should learn how to harness its power. While Vlad and Mark peppered him with questions about the nature of this power and exactly how it could be harnessed, Thoric set about looping a rope around the keystone of the arch. Vlad and Mark couldn’t find the Tanner, but they heard him—not only his voice, but the sound of footsteps as he moved from one hiding place to another. They continued to close in on the source of his voice until finally, with a last threat of doom, he seemed to run away. When the sound of his footsteps faded, the three adventurers agreed to destroy the arch. They seized the end of the rope, walked out as far from the arch as they could and pulled with all their might. At first nothing happened, but when they did manage to twist the keystone, the rest of the stones did the work, pushing the keystone out and then tumbling to the ground. There were some surprised shouts from down in the village and a cloud of dust. When the dust settled, the heroes walked back down to Garanton.

That night at the tavern, Mark, Thoric, and Vlad were the heroes, praised for their success in killing the demon and in driving the Tanner out of town. “I always said he wasn’t right.” 

The celebrations were stymied by some disturbing news. The friars had caught someone trying to steal the mantle of Garan. Most people—other than Thoric, Vlad, and Mark—were shocked to hear that the culprit was local favorite Mikail Vetter, descendant of two previous winners! The friars locked Vetter in the cellar of the abbey. Tavern talk turned to Vetter’s strange behavior. Locals and visiting spectators debated whether Vetter’s crime was motivated by his poor performance at the day’s archery contest or whether causation worked in reverse—“I could tell by the way he looked at that target—his mind was on something else. And now we all know what!” Everyone agreed that he was a disappointment to the memory of his father and grandfather.

The night passed without incident, confirming for most people the friar’s theory that the recent threat posed by Rellum the Tanner and his unwilling accomplice the sculptor had been effectively eliminated. But it was a somber morning. Mikail Vetter was tried and convicted of multiple crimes against the village, the abbey and Garan the Mighty. He was sentenced to a sound flogging and exile.

In the afternoon, the completion of the week’s competition culminated in a series of one-on-one combats. Despite his poor showing on recent days, Vlad was still considered a favorite, along with locals Muttal and Ouvrar. Berl an expert archer had earned the right to easy first round contests but wasn’t expect to succeed in hand-to-hand combat against a “real warrior” in the mold of Garan the mighty. The duels were fought with wooden swords and lasted until one of the duelist fell and could not immediately return to his feet. Vlad easily won his first two rounds. Berl the archer also advanced. The other two finalists included Sir Havad and Barre. Sir Havad was the captain of a mercenary company and thus regarded by many as not a proper contender in a completion intended for untested warriors. Barre, one of Februm’s goons was even more disliked. Barre stumbled and was defeated by Berl the archer to the surprise of all and to the dismay of the many punters who had bet against him. Vlad’s success in the earlier rounds was attributed to his quickness, but in his fight against Sir Havad he showed he was also willing and able to sustain some heavy blows and keep on fighting. The crowd cheered to see the heroic stranger defeat the mercenary. Vlad and Berl were permitted an hour’s rest before the final round. The friar’s tended to both men’s wounds and gave them fortified wine for their final battle. Once again Berl surprised many by his ability to defend himself in hand-to-hand combat. But Vlad had more stamina and after sustaining a few solid blows himself, at last forced the archer to yield.

The final duel was followed almost immediately by the victory procession to the Plaza of Garan. The friars led the way with their statue of Garan, draped in its mantle. The procession arrived at the plaza, in front of Garan’s tomb, and the mantle of Garan was presented to Vlad. He was wary at first, but as the joyous crowd draped it over him, he felt encouraged by its presence. It felt strangely familiar, as if it had always belonged to him and he pulled it around his shoulders.

Mark and Thoric, lurking on the outside of the crowd, took a closer look at the tomb. It looked like the plaster seal had been broken, though it was unclear whether the stone door had been opened.   

Garah Fest Part 2 (Vlad and Mihir search for blood moss)

While the rest of the party rested after the battle on the clifftop and helped to calm frightened revelers, Vlad and Mihir talked with one of the friars who told them of a special incense that could be used to drive away. The one ingredient he needed was a special, blood-red moss that sometimes grew in the canyon near the tomb of Garan. Friar Colton told them the way and warned them to be careful—sometimes snakes, wild animals, and more dangerous things could be found in the dark places around the tomb.

The tomb was easy to find. The trail leading there ran through thin woodland and had recently been cleared in preparation for the festival. They passed over the flagstone plaza in front of the tomb and into the rocky canyon beyond. There was no path but Vlad and Mihir followed the walls of the canyon to its end, and found themselves in a place strewn with boulders. Spindly trees grew next to the canyon walls. Vlad and Mihir cut them away and found narrow slot canyons and explored these looking for the red moss.

Instead they encountered two of the vicious-looking pigmen that Roquelle had seen in the reeds of Barrow Creek. These didn’t run away, but attacked with their spears, making a strange “orc, orc!” grunting noise. Vlad dropped his crossbow and drew his sword. The orcs' spears were clumsy weapons in the slot canyon and Vlad killed them both.

Vlad and Mihir hiked back down into the main canyon and then hiked up into another one of the more narrow crevasses. Success at last!

Vlad and Mihir gathered handfuls of the red moss, moving further and further into the narrowing crevasse.

There was more moss and also more orcs. This time one attacked, while the other ran further up the crevasse and loudly blew a horn. Vlad killed one with his sword and shot the horn-blower with his crossbow. But out in the main canyon, he and Mihir could hear battle cries. They moved quickly down, hoping to exit the crevasse and get back to Garan without having to fight. But they weren’t fast enough. Three orcs met them. Vlad chose a narrow place where he could fight them one at a time. Mihir crouch on a boulder behind and, when an opportunity presented itself, lashed out with his flail. 

The three orcs fell, but more kept coming. One of them thrust his spear through the gap in Vlad’s breast plate ad also pierced the chain mail beneath. A larger orc appeared, wearing metal armor himself. He called the orcs out of the crevasse. Vlad and Mihir pursued them, and killed another two. As the crevasse widened, Vlad could no longer protect his cousin—while the orcs attacked on one side, another two attacked Mihir. A long spear pierced Mihir’s chest and other orcs pounced on him with their long knives, stabbing him repeatedly. Vlad killed one of his cousin's killers and then fell withdrew into the crevasse.

 The orcs did not follow, but stood waiting in the larger canyon, their spears pointing at him, daring him to try to escape the narrow crevasse. Vlad sheathed his sword, and pulled out his crossbow and fired it quick shot at the leader. His shot went wild and in his rush to reload as the leader ran for cover, Vlad jammed the firing mechanism. But as the chief orc cowered behind one of his minions, an especially ugly, white-face specimen, Vlad dropped his crossbow and charged with a war hammer in each hand. He threw the hammers as his enemies closed in and in the momentary confusion, drew his sword and killed the white-faced orc. The others reacted quickly. Vlad was struck by an axe that he fell to the ground. He rolled away from the stabbing spearpoints to regain his feet next to stunted pine tree and made what he thought would be his last stand.

There were four orcs, including the leader. They circled, stabbing with their spears. He slashed at them with his sword wildly, doing his best to keep their blades away from him. He feinted, baiting one into making charge. He dodged the point, grabbed the spear and killed its bearer, trusting his armor to absorb the blows from the orc chief. He turned on the orc chief, sword against sword, Vlad twisting his body this way and that to avoid the spear points. Suddenly Vlad turned and leaped at one of the other orcs, and killed him. The orc chief took a last wild swing; Vlad felt the chief’s sword glance off his shoulder plates, but by the time he turned, the orc chief was running away. One orc remained to guard his chief’s retreat and he was canny and tough. Knowing Vlad’s tricks, he waited, circling and making short thrusts.

 Only when Vlad, exhausted by the combat, stumbled to one knee did the orc charge. The spear point found a gap in Vlad’s plate and the orc leaned in with all his weight to pierce the mail. Vlad dropped his sword to seize the spear with both hands, and then threw himself backwards while rolling his body, throwing his enemy on the ground. Before the orc could regain his feet, Vlad recovered his sword and killed him. Remembering that his cousin Mihir wore a magical phylactery on his arm, Vlad removed his dead cousin’s armor to recover this item. In the course of completing this work, some feelings of sorrow or remorse emerged, and Vlad decided to also bring Mihir’s body back to Garan for a proper burial.

The people of Garan, were duly impressed by Vlad’s valor and startled by the news of monsters camped so close to the village and in the vicinity of Garan’s tomb. Friar Colter was grateful that Vlad had recovered enough blood moss for 10 torches. He would give 5 to Vlad and his companions, and the friars would carry the others on their patrols that night.

Garan Fest Part 1

Every year the village of Garanton hosts a weeklong festival honoring the legendary hero for which it was named.  In keeping with Garan’s reputation as a heroic knight, young warrior from far and wide gather to prove their mettle in tests of strength, horse-riding competitions, and feats-of-arms.  The contenders and the gathered assembly feast together every evening and at the end of the festival, the champion is presented with Garan’s Mantle at a ceremony in front of Garan’s tomb.

This year has attracted several impressive new contenders including Sir Henry de la Reine Blanche, Vlad of Matopher Orchard, and Roquelle of Hommelet. Each of them acquitted him- or her- self well in the initial competitions.  Their companions Mark, McDowell, Dumitru, and Mihir cheered them on.

And yet, they and their friends have noticed something strange going on at this year’s festival.  Mark the Magician, though he had arrived in Garanton after a long journey from with southlands in the company of Sir Henry and Vlad, had no personal interest in martial endeavors.  He was not the only one.  Many were there for commercial reasons, or for the revelry, or, like the traveling minstrels, for some combination of the two.  But Mark noted one or two others whose dour demeanor masked what purpose they had in spectating at an event that seemed to give them no enjoyment.

One man who more than compensated for his lack of warriorly virtue with enthusiasm for the event and for Garan himself, was a local sculptor named Brant Arwell who had carved a monumental frieze of Garan’s face into the cliffs overlooking Garanton.  He was now looking for a new project and approached Sir Miles to request that he and his companions sit for a formal portrait.  They agreed and made plans to meet at the abbey the next day.

Strangely, Brant was nowhere to be found on the second day.  Friar Ulric, the head of the abbey explained that Brant had gone the previous evening to put the finishing touches on his sculpture and had probably overslept.  His most immediate concern was the killing of livestock at a local homestead, presumably by wild animals.  The party visited the homestead.  Oddly, it appeared that whatever had killed the cattle had not eaten much of them

The Friar encouraged the party—or the competing warriors at least—to focus on the day’s completion which involved crossing the nearby Barrow Creek by jumping from log to another.  Roquelle made the first crossing, but in the second crossing, not only fell off the log, but hit her head and became so disoriented that the creek’s current began to carry her away.  When she swam to safety on the marshy side of the creek opposite Garanton, she got a glimpse of a pig-faced creature in the reeds who snarled at her and then ran away.

After the completion, the party decided to go and look for the sculptor.  At the top of the cliff, above the carving, they found some ruins, and also an intact stone arch.  Some of the writing on the arch could be deciphered enough that Mark understood that it made reference to the light of the moon. 

Sure enough, when they returned that night when the moon was up, the arch was glowing—and they could hear a voice coming out of it.  Roquelle boldly walked through the archway hoping that she might be transported somewhere.  Nothing extraordinary happened to her, but McDowell noticed shadows emerging from the glowing surface of the arch itself.  

When these shadows took the form of fanged, flying monsters, the party attacked with arrows, hurled stones, and from the fingertips of Mark the Magician, “bolts of pure energy.”  One of these monsters descended on Roquelle, knocking her to the ground, and slashing her badly.  A second attacked Vlad, but was repelled by his armor.  A third was killed by missiles, and the fourth swooped down from the cliff, over the village and out of sight.  Sir Henry rushed to assist Roquelle while Vlad and his cousin Dumetru teamed up on the other shadow monster.  They were strange opponents—when Roquelle slashed one with her sword, it seemed to tear like fabric, its shadowy form becoming semi-transparent.  They were also fast and vicious.  When Vlad pinned one to the ground with his foot and raised his sword to slay it, the monster lashed him with its tail, raked his leg with its claw and flew back into the air—only to swoop down once more, fangs pointed at his face.  But the heroes prevailed and destroyed their enemies.

Mihir tended to his companion’s wounds—especially Roquelle who had been clawed and bitten multiple times.  There was a short debate on whether they should enter the arch, but the party decided instead to return to the village to warn the friars that at least one shadow monster was still on the loose.

The next morning, the party learned that more livestock had been killed and this time the farmers had seen the fiend responsible, a shadowy, fanged, flying creature.  The party of course was able to help the witnesses complete their description.  

Vlad and the Portal Under the Stars

For years, people had been asked why old Matopher wasn’t dead yet. His diet consisted mainly of hard cider. He’d lost most of his teeth and his body had been wasting away. One night when it looked like his time had finally come, he gathered his brood and told them a story about the standing stones on the plain south of the trading post.

No, this had nothing to do with the White Queen. This was before he found out anything about the White Queen. This was about the night a doorway appeared beneath the central standing stone. He stared at the door for hours and then opened it into what appeared to be a treasure vault. In the dim light of his torch, everything sparkled and shone—including the spears that were hurled at him from out of the darkness. He’d often wondered, what if he had been braver, what if he had been stronger, what if he had been better armed. . .

Most of his children shook their heads and told grandpa to calm down. But Vlad and Mihir listened, especially when Matopher told them he’d been watching the stars, and they were edging closer to the same configuration that night in the spring of his youth . . .

Vlad and Mihir listened to their dying grandfather’s story and decided to seek out the adventure he described. They camped out by the standing stones for a couple nights, waiting impatiently for the proper alignment of the stars. When the portal appeared, they entered what seemed to be a tomb, rife with magical traps to ward off grave-robbers. After taking a few knocks and jabs, the cousins stopped to collect a suit of the fine, black-lacquered scale mail that Matopher had spoken of. Vlad judged it to be functionally inferior to his own plate mail, but he assisted Mihir in putting it on. Passing from chamber to another, they encountered a giant, horned snake, which first spoke to them before attacking. They fought back, but were confounded by the serpent’s tough scales, barely wounding the monsters while they were jabbed again and again by quick jabs of its long fangs. Mihir battered it with the magic staff he’d taken from Lareth. The staff shattered with an explosion, throwing the snake against the opposite wall. Though battered and stunned, when it coiled up to resume its attack, the two cousins fled for their lives. They led the snake in a chase through the tomb, and into a two-story hall dominated by a fire-shooting statue. Dollops of flaming oil slipped off Mihir’s new armor and onto the stone floor, arresting the snake. A second burst of oil hit the snake and it was consumed by the fire. After a rest, Vlad and Mihir decided that they would continue to explore the tomb.

In another, dimly glowing chamber, they encountered a half-dozen living statue, fashioned of transparent crystal. They gathered around Mihir, seemingly fascinated by the torch he was carrying. Holding the torch out from his body, Mihir led the crystal people out of the chamber, with Vlad following behind. They descended into the lower level of the tomb, and here discovered a much larger group of living statues, these made of clay, and much more martial in temperament. Their leader stood up from his throne and seemed to order an attack—the statues raised their spears and marched toward the intruders. Mihir tossed his torch toward the clay soldiers. The crystal people, chasing the light, met the brunt of the clay soldiers attack. Vlad raised his crossbow and shot a crossbow bolt at the clay king. His second shot misfired. Mihir recommended retreated. Although the crystal people’s powerful fists were capable of shattering a clay soldier with a single blow, they were being overwhelmed by numbers. Also, there was the issue of light . . .

Vlad and Mihir fumbled their way through the long passage to the stairs. As they climbed the stairs, they heard the clay soldiers marching behind them. At the top of the stairs, Vlad and Mihir paused in the dimly-glowing room where they’d met the crystal people and lit another torch. As the clay soldiers people reached the stop of the stairs, Vlad and Mihir once again took to flight, this time heading for exit from the tomb. They didn’t look back until they were once again outside, their lungs stinging with the chilly night air. The stars had changed and the portal was gone-- once again the standing stones framed only the Alyan night sky. They had recovered little treasure, only the strange suit of black armor that proved to their grandfather he hadn’t been dreaming when he first saw it fifty years before.

(Grandpa Matopher, by the way, was out of bed, and getting around as healthy as an old drunk could be.)

Lareth's treasure

The day after the attack on Matopher's farm, a few of the younger sons-- Vlad, Dumetru, and Mihir went into Gold Hill to report their success and sell some cider.  Vlad convinced Dumetru to trade his silver dagger ("you don't really need it anymore") in exchange for a battle axe and the materials Vlad needed so he could repair and retrofit Lareth's plate mail armor for his own use.

A couple days later, Sir Miles, Chrono, Circe, and McDowell went out to the Matopher farm, interested in hearing more of the story and seeing where the battle had occurred.  Sir Miles, because of his oath to protect the White Queen was especially interested in hearing about what her part in it might have been.  While most of the family, including Matopher himself were satisfied that the old man's secret life work was complete, and that the evil replica of the ancient Queen had been destroyed.  Mihir believed otherwise.

But that was a question for another day.  There was a more immediate problem.  In his room at the inn, Lareth had left a shadow behind.

Vlad, Dumetru, and Mihir agreed to accompany the others back to Gold Hill to investigate.  Brau explained that during his stay at the inn, Lareth had politely requested that no one else enter his room.  When he stopped returning to the inn, she had barred the door, but now that he was dead and his true nature revealed, she wished to remove any trace of him.  But his room lay in permanent shadow.  Brau, standing in the doorway with a candle, showed the party how the candle's light did not extend more than a few feet into the room-- the rest lay in complete darkness.  She tossed the candle into the shadow and its light disappeared, even before they heard it hit the floor.

What's more, she had discovered another place of shadow.  There was an underground stream at the back of the inn, separating that part of the old mines that had been made habitable from whatever lay beyond.  There was a path along this stream that led to a half-forgotten storage area.  A second shadow blocked this path.

The party decided it was be less disruptive to deal with this shadow first.  McDowell prepared his rope and grappling hook and tossed the hook into the shadow, hoping to catch onto anything inside.  Something caught the rope and started pulling McDowell toward.

Without letting go of the rope, McDowell quickly backed away, letting out enough slack to avoid getting pulled into the shadow.  Sir Henry's sword began to get hot.  When drawn, it glowed with a hot white light.  As McDowell was backed into corner, Sir Henry leapt forward, slashing at the center of the shadow.  His blade struck something solid and then broke through it-- bone fragments and a gleaming white human skull exploded around the room accompanied by  the sound of clanging metal hitting the stone floor.  The shadow remained, though it no longer moved.

Vlad stepped into the shadow, and began tossing out the debris he found on the floor inside the shadow: lots more bones, a shield, fragments of armor.  And then something that seemed to be the source of the shadow-- a curved sword.  Though they couldn't seem it, it felt rusty and not especially sharp.  Vlad wrapped the sword in a sack and the shadow disappeared.

Encouraged by their success with the first shadow, the party went to Lareth's room to deal with the second.  Circe fired a magic missile into the core of the shadow, and then Sir Henry and Chronos charged in with their weapons.  They destroyed a second skeleton.  It too carried a rusty sword, but this was not the source of the shadow.  There was instead, a box.  Through trial and error, they discover that there was something in the mosaic lid of the box that was the source of the shadow.  They covered the lid so that McDowell could pick the lock on the box.  Inside the party found more treasure than they had ever owned, touched, or seen.  Silver serving pieces and goblets, an alabaster box, and a gold chain with fire opals.  After sharing out this treasure, they went to see what the other shadow might have been guarding.

Returning to the stream at the back of the inn, they followed the once-blocked path upstream to where it ended at a ford.  Crossing the stream, they found a rough natural cavern filled with junk.  A dim red light shone from a large hole on the opposite side of the room.  Vlad stepped closer to investigate.  The rest of the party saw the red light get brighter and then both Vlad and the light disappeared into darkness.  Moments later, two giant insects-- three-foot long beetles with glowing red heads, charged into the room, attacking them with their mandibles.  The darkness dissipated and the party could see Vlad, nearly overwhelmed by two more beetles and with his darkness sword returned to its sack. 

The beetles were fierce and fearless, but the party killed them all without suffering any serious wounds.  They climbed into the beetles lair, a noisome place.  Finding no way to continue their expedition, they searched the lair thoroughly.  Mixed in with pile of bones, Circe came upon a finely-wrought dagger of ancient design.  Although happy about the find, the party was nonetheless puzzled-- What was Lareth guarding with the second shadow-skeleton?  Could he even have known the dagger was there? 

After reporting to Brau on their success, the party enjoyed a delicious meal on the house.  Amid joking and boasting, they agreed that their treasures were worth more than anything in Gold Hill.  To learn their true value or anything else about them, they would need to seek out a larger settlement.

Silver Dagger Cider

When Wolfgang left Gold Hill, Lareth led the settlers in celebrating his departure.  A man who was friends with bears and wolves could not be a friend to his fellow man. The Constabulary added their cheers, fueled by a keg of ale paid for by the Head Constable himself.  Not everyone celebrated, but no one raised his voice to defend Wolfgang's reputation now that he was gone.

Lareth requested assistance from the Head Constable in seeking the tomb of the White Queen . . . and recovering her treasure on behalf of the Constabulary.  Of course the request was granted.  A sergeant and six deputies set out with Lareth for the peaks to the north.  None of them returned to Gold Hill.  A couple weeks later deputies from a local patrol returned with a terrible story-- as dusk fell they had been set upon by undead monsters, commanded by a man in black plate mail whose voice sounded like handsome Lareth's.  The attacking fiends were pale like corpses, but with burning eyes, and with twisted features that resembled those of their lost comrades.

Matopher, who owned the apple orchard up the road from Gold Hill trading post had long been known for the quality of his cider and for his many eccentricities.  He was often drunk, he had lots of children and grand children, he welcomed strangers onto his land and made them family, and he insisted that every grown person on his homestead carry and know how to use a weapon made of silver.

So, when Lareth and the wights attacked, Matopher and his family were ready.  It was late in the night, when those on watch heard sounds of attackers approaching.  Mihir, the pious brother, chanted a blessing of protection and raised his glowing holy symbol.  By its soft golden light, he and the watchers saw half a dozen figures charging up the road, a large man in black plate mail whispering curses from the rear.  Torches were lit, the women gather the children, and the men went to their battle stations.  The sentries drew their daggers to meet the undead fiends, but they were overcome by Lareth's spells.  Frozen in place, they were overrun by four wights.  Three of them did resemble deputies from Gold Hill, but the fourth, wearing long robes and draped with jewelry was identified as the White Queen.

Matopher's grandson Vlad, unlike most of his  brothers and cousins, did not carry a silver dagger, but a crossbow loaded with silver arrows.  His aim was steady and as Lareth surveyed the destruction he had wrought, Vlad shot and killed one of the wights.

As the Matopher clan roused from slumber, they organized themselves into a counter-sortie, led by brave Dumtiru.  They focused their on the White Queen.  She was a fearsome opponent.  Her touch was deadly and more of the sons and daughters of Matopher lay at her feet before she herself was destroyed.

Vlad, joined by two of his cousins who also carried crossbows, killed the other lesser wights.  Lareth saw that his fortunes had changed and threw down his shield to flee.  He used his magic to dissuade those who pursued him, but he could not deflect the arrow that hit him in the back of the leg.  He stumbled and, before he could rise again, was hit by two more arrows.

The Matopher clan blessed the bodies of their fallen brothers and sisters and watched over them through the night.  At dawn, the nine cold bodies were buried in a quiet corner of the Silver Dagger farm.

 

Wolfgang outlawed

A few weeks after Phoebe’s death, Jaroo introduced Wolfgang to Danderion an elf, explaining that the two had something in common— a reason to oppose Burne’s recovery of the lost magic that was hidden under the Moat House.

Jaroo explained that at the last council meeting, Burne had announced that he was planning to send a group of guards to secure of the Moat House. He had been vague in his reasons, but everyone remembered his recent remarks about a re-opened portal or a long-lost source of magic. Jaroo said nothing. He was, as he explained “not surprised.” Now that the frogs had been re-located or exterminated, it was only a matter of time, Jaroo reasoned before, Burne began an earnest search for this magical secret.

Jaroo observed to Wolfgang that as druids, they should be wary of anything that might permit sudden changes to the natural world. And of Danderion, Jaroo asked whether it wasn’t true that elves considered most humans too immature to use magic responsibily? Didn’t Danderion agree that for the elves to continue to quietly maintain peace in Alyan, that humans should be prevented from increasing their ability to employ magic? Yes, he agreed.

Gerilynn joined the party for reasons of her own. Fernac smelled the promise of loot. Finally, Chickie, the fourth son of a poor farmer, convinced Wolfgang that he could be of assistance in this adventure.

The four adventurers, plus Wolfgang’s wolf (“Wolfie”) set out for the moathouse. They noticed immediate signs of improvement. The moat itself had large been cleared of debris, and its banks had been reinforced. A solid wooden bridge crossed the freely-flowing water. The courtyard had been cleared of weeds. As the party approached, they heard dogs barking. They entered the courtyard in time to see the last of the dogs entering the moat house.


Soon the party noticed arrows at the arrow slits. A voice commanded them to state their purpose. Danderion pointed his finger at one of the slits and in a tone both charming and weirdly commanding, invited the hidden man to come out.

There was some commotion inside the moat house, but soon the commanded man emerged, followed by two of his comrades and the dogs. The commanded man was friendly to Danderion, but still suspicious of the others. Their questions were pointed and the party’s answers were impudent. Wolfgang insulted Burne. Gerilynn chanted a prayer of transifxation—one of the men stood paralyzed in his spot. The commanded man realized that Danderion was not a friend and ran for the courthouse, the other un-transfixed man following him. Danderion and Wolfgang let them run to the steps and then loosed missiles against them—one was killed with an arrow, the other by a sling stone. Gerilynn killed the transfixed man and the dogs ran away.

After putting the dead men in the river, the party entered the moat house.

The group entered the moat house. They found sleeping pallets and the embers of a fire in the great hall. Counting the pallets, they reasoned that they’d already killed the sole occupants. They explored the corridors leading out of the hall. They found a hole in the floor. Sensing that the object of their quest lay beneath them, they secured a rope and lowered themselves down. Wolfie stayed on guard at the top. Chickie lit a torch.

In the lower levels of the moathouse they found rifled storerooms and one empty chamber after another.

. 
Hearing in one direction a strange clanking, accompanied by several voices arguing in an unknown language—the party chose to try going the other way.

This proved fruitful. Gerrilynn remembered passing that way with Phoebe and Philch. She remembered the place where Philomena had found a secret door.

They descended by way of a long spiral staircase to the door they’d previously opened and without realizing it, released the magical atmosphere that had caught Burne’s attention in Hommelet. The door was still open and the party passed through it into a natural cavern, much larger than their torch light could show.

They followed a path through the stalgmites and into a narrow tunnel. The tunnel wound one way and another. Danderion mapped their progress. In one of the side caverns they explored, they were attacked by large spiders the size of cats. Danderion killed one with an arrow, and the others scurried into the recesses of the cave. Chickie lit another torch and another. In the enhanced light, they could see dozens of tiny, twitching, reflective eyes.

The party hastily passed through the chamber of spiders, and pressed deeper into the caverns. A side passage of worked stone captured their interest. After taking it appropriate precautions, they made their way down it and soon found themselves in an artfully carved room.

This room was most impressive in its proportions, having twelve sides of equal side, and also having a low, domed ceiling comprised of twelve trapezoidal parts that met to form a twelve-sided cap at the apex. In the middle of the room, there was a shallow, circular depression a few feet in diameter. The floor was smooth, and in the center, polished so that in shone in the torch light.

Especially unusual was the ceiling, or the trapezoidal panels that comprised it. Each was carved with writing. No one, at first, could read the writing, but all agreed it was gracefully-formed.

Looking more closely, Danderion recognized the writing. It was a form of elvish. More particularly, it was a form of elvish developed centuries ago in a largely abandoned effort to share with humans the secrets of elven magic. But there was something weird about the writing—it was backwards.

The party emptied their waterskins into the shallow depression on the floor. The newly formed pool of water reflected the words on the ceiling. By standing in one place or another, and with the assistance of a companion’s carefully positioned torch, one could read one or another of the panels, reflected in the water.

At least Danderion could read the panels. They included the fundamental spell by which the uninitiated might learn written-and-memorized magic. They included other basic spells he knew and some he didn't knew. Philomena, Wolfgang, and Chickie took turnings holding the torch (Fernac stood guard in the passageway) while Danderion inscribed the spells into his book. Or began to inscribe them-- as he finished copying the first, there was a small burst of flame, and the water in the pool evaporated.

The party agreed that they had learned enough. Wolfgang could make his report to Jaroo. Danderion could inscribe the other spells later.

They traced their way through the caverns and back up the staircase. Wolfgang met them gratefully as they emerged from the moathouse dungeons. They followed the path back to Hommelet, cautiously congratulating each other. It was later afternoon, the weather was fine, and they succeeded in learning what Burne seemed to be after, or at least a part of it. They were startled by the scream of a hawk that swooped down out of the trees and landed on Wolfgang's shoulder. It spread its wings and expanded in size, slipping from Wolfgang's shoulder to land on the ground as Jaroo, still hissing in Wolfgang's ear. "What have you done, what have you done!"

The dogs had returned to Hommelet. Their masters, Burne's guardsmen had been found dead in the river. Everyone guessed what had happened.

The party argued. Jaroo apologized that he had asked them to search the moathouse without having the foresight that they would be unable to accomplish this without the use of brute force. He was grateful for the information they shared. He gave them instructions for evading the avenging mob that would be looking for them and for seeking their fortunes elsewhere. There was a beekeeper near the village of Whitekey, nearly one hundred leagues away to the south, who could use Wolfgang's assistance. The others would likely be wise to accompany him. Jaroo would send word to the druids of the south country, who would provide discreet protection and guidance if they were able.