A Hero's Farewell

The Ruins of Rhest

Brandar valiantly dies fighting a hugh 2 headed Ettin, his head ruptureing like a melon between two hugh fists, bone, blood soaked hair and grey matter oozing between massive sausage like fingers. Brandars last crying chop of his axe delivers a casterating blow to the ettins genitals, forever allowing brandar to smile in death knowing that this particular Ettin will never again reproduce.

Kulin gets blasted from the out streched finger of a hidden hobgoblin, nothing but a pile of ash is left after the smoke from the massive fireball clears. In the exchange it looks as if Kulin was in the process of casting a spell that never will be finished. It is said amoung the elves of starsong hill that the ending of that incantation can still be heard, echoing through the Blackfens on a clear night.

Glok looks over head as the shadow of Sa'arvith and Regarix loom over head. As the beginings of a spell touch Gloks lips Sa'arvith lets loose a vicsous barbed arrow slamming glok to the wall and pinning his shoulder to the ancient granite beyond. The spell failing in a puff of useless magic upon his lips, glok reels in pain. Landing 10 feet in front of the pinned form of Glok, Regarix takes a deep breath in, chest heaving, ready to blow its liquid acid at any second upon Gloks feeble form. Sa'arvith laughs, "After all this time of hunting, searching and trying to track me down for killing your only friend among your people, it is only fair that before I kill you, I tell you why...Your own people, your tribemen, your chieftains and shamans hired me to kill your only friend and one of their own council members. They wanted you out and they knew this was the only way for you to disappear. So take this to your grave, knowing that your own poeple betrayed you and after I kill you, know that I and Regarix will finish the hunt, finding and bending the will of your two wolves to serve me...Regarix, release this goblins life!" With that the dragon exhales mightly upon the helpless form of Glok, a line of pure liquid acid blasting Glok in the front of his body, disolving flesh and bone, chest wall collapsing and entrails spilling from the liquid hole in Gloks abdomen, the acid finally eating all the way to his spinal chord.

.

The Tao of Kulin

At first glance, Kulin seems unassuming, and easily blends into conversation as well as his surroundings. Similarly, he may not seem all that bright or deeply insightful, yet his easy, common sense approach blends into the fabric of a discussion. Nor will you see him overrun a battlefield with his sword, which is more akin to a dagger; his arms, no bigger than a human's wrists. No, Kulin's way is the way gnomes have survived for centuries: to defeat a charging bull with the subtle flicker of a flag, to win over an enraged countryman with a well placed apology. Neighbors become allies in such ways, enemies vanquished.

It takes some time to see what distinguishes Kulin. He dresses well, keeps his camp organized, and always appears clean. At the same time, he appears very comfortable with nature and its environs, even appearing to chat with the small animals that cross his path. There are, of course, his minor tricks: His magical steed that can proceed at breakneck speeds is one. At times, multiple Kulins appear to weave in and out of his being, confusing friends and enemies alike. But, for those who look closer, there seems to be more to him than minor tricks.

For one, his tiny sword appears beautifully made, etched in dwarven runes. Indeed, although a human boy who has yet to see 10 winters may be stronger, with a singular flash and a whip's crack Kulin's delivers a repoirte that could have been inflicted by an ogre. Even his crossbow, apparently made of the finest woods, appears magically enhanced. Sometimes it fires multiple shots in a row, other times a single arrow splits into hundreds, blanketing an area with a deadly rain of missiles.

Then there are his friends. Everywhere he goes, they appear from nowhere. Even a stranger becomes his friend; or even when not, Kulin is still busy negotiating, asking forgiveness, or simply listening. Words are his weapon of choice.

But in the end you wonder: what else does this gnome have to reveal? Time, perhaps, could answer that for you...or you could just ask.

To Hunt a Wyrmlord

15th of Fireseek

Into the Blackfens

Soon after the group departs from the stockade they reach the outskirts of the Blackfens. Already the heat of the day radiating off the swamp makes the surrounding area stiflingly humid. After a quick patrol Glok makes of the Blackfens his attitude is much more somber.

“Are you ready to get wet and muddy,” asks Glok with a sneer as he pulls his booted foot from the sucking mud of the Blackfens.

As the party enters into the outskirts of the Fens, Kulin begins to talk in a voice just loud enough for the rest of the party to hear. "We are entering an area that has a powerful but sad history. Sharing the information that I received in Drellin’s might give us insight into what to expect here,” adds Kulin.

“The City of Rhest was once the capitol of the Dukedom of Rhestilior and as such the center of civilization in the area. Approximately 300 years of prosperity reigned upon this area and its residents. Shortly after those 300 years a wave of corruption, treachery and civil strife weakened the dukedom to such an extent that it was unable to recover from the various humanoid raids from the surrounding lands. From what I have gathered about 200 years ago there was a large siege by humanoids on Rhest and ultimately Rhest was sacked,” pauses Kulin, his legs getting tired from the water filling his boots.

“The history as to how or why the humanoids were whipped into a frenzy is not clear, but there was rumor that the leader had a powerful force of nature backing him. It is speculated that their leader had in some way gained favor of the many tribal shamans, resulting in cementing the tribes under one banner. That banner being a skeletal two headed lion its mane wreathed in black flames. In the aftermath of the destruction of Rhest, the survivors abandoned their homes and resettled in Dennovar, Brindol and similar communities in the south. During this time the area was a fertile land. Levies to the north of Rhest held back the Stonewash River and made the area prosperous for agriculture. It seems that shortly after the sacking of the city, the locals running as fast as they could from the city and as the humanoids were enjoying themselves burning and looting that their leader Tear’cul’duli, for unknown reasons had caused the levies to burst, causing the entire area to be flooded. Essentially this caused all within 20 square miles to be drowned, human and humanoid alike, possibly hundreds of thousands of people. It is not clear why their leader had done this. The resulting flood created the Blackfens. According to Glok the Blackfens and Lake Rhestin cover an area of about 20 square miles. Is that right,” looking to Glok.

Glok nodding his head, up to his thigh in murky water holding up a leach in his fingers adding, “don’t forget to pick the leaches off your legs,” as he pops the leach into his mouth smiling.

Kulin, putting the pieces together in his head, “This is where the story of Emery Vraath takes off and his keep in the Witchwood. He had left shortly before the flood and tried to draw refuges to his name and rebuild what was destroyed from the flood.”

Brandar adds, "Most of the construction in this area has been built by dwarfs, save for the Keep, that was built by giants. I noticed that about 20% of the buildings in the towns we have visited were built by dwarfs. I remember that there was at one time a dwarven community south west of my homeland, but the name escapes me. Of the structures that I have seen, they are all over 50 years old."

As several hours roll on, the party trekking through the Blackfens, Glok takes the lead and spots a mossy island of mud and peat protruding from the marsh. Two gnarled trees growing from the mound, and sprawled across the ground over the knobby roots of the trees appears to be the bloody remains of a horse sized owl. The once magnificent birds body has been partially dissolved in places, and swaths of foul, dark green fluid still sizzle and pop, eating away at the exposed flesh and bone.

The party is halted and after a little conversation, brander charges forward with Glok in the flank. Just as the party gets a close look at the body of the bird, the water’s edge is disturbed as a large green draconic shape bursts from the water engaging Brander. Brander quickly searches his memory as to the arcane origins of this beast and remembers yelling, “Aye, the beast is a Harrowblade, an abomination of dragon spawn.”

As the battle ensues, the hero’s do the best they can to destroy the beast. The Harrowblade has in place of hands, razorsharp wings with which it strikes its enemies. As brander falls under the last corrosive breath of the Harrowblade, Calyassa rushes to heal the dying dwarf. The dragon spawn is destroyed and the party decides that now is the time to camp.
Disscusion around the campground turns to the creatures that the party has fought as of yet.

Brander stroking his half dissolved bread recounts some facts, “Harrowblades are not a natural product of our world. If I remember right they are created from the eggs of true dragons and transformed under a sacred ritual dedicated to the Dragon Queen, Tiamat. They possess all the traits of a magical beast which include only truly damaged by magical weapons, immunity to sleep, paralysis and the prime element from which it is born, in this case acid. Traditionally Harrowblades use hit and run tactics as well as ambushing from underwater. We also know that they have an acidic breath and where there is one there are more.”

"There is one more thing, the dragon Regarix. From the information we gathered from that scum of a hobgoblin at the blockade we are dealing with a human sized black dragon. I can tell you that he has liquid acid as a breath weapon, not a gas. Why that matters im not sure. By the size we have a juvenile or young dragon. Remember their breath weapon can fire after just about every 12 or more seconds. Blacks like greens are immune to acid and can swim as well as fly. We know that this Sa'arrvith rides the dragon as a mount. so we can expect some type of action from the rider. I am almost positive that this dragon has immunities to magic," grumbles Brander

“We also need to beware the swamp itself. As we move deeper into the swamp I have a feeling that or travel speed is going to be reduced by about a fourth of what were used to. I expect that we might even be swimming at times. A few times I have been up to my waist in water, not my choice battleground. Who is first watch," asking Glok?

Into the Blackfens

10th of Fireseek
Leaving Drellin’s for the Ruins of Rhest

“We must wait for Glok so that he knows our plan. He told us to meet him on the outskirts of town, several hours past midday,” informs Kulin.

Bo shaking off his enormous hangover just grumbles. Calyassa tests her armor straps, prepping for the long ride to the Ruins of Rhest.

Emerging from the forest with the two huge wolves that are his companions, Glok smiles through drooling spiked teeth. “Where we go now?”

“We make haste to Rhest…no pun intended, sorry,” smiles Kulin.
“Pun? What do you mean gnome?” asks Glok

Calyassa laughing, introduces herself to Glok. Still a little uneasy traveling with a goblin under the circumstances, Kulin and Brandar both gave word on Gloks character the evening before. “I will consult with Pelor about Glok, but I appreciate your words of trust.”

“We must get there as fast as possible, I believe our best move it to travel to Rhest and discover what this Wyrmlord Sa’arvith is up to. I don’t like the rumors of Tiamat’s shock troops up in these ruins as well. This may be the best chance we have of actually making a telling blow to the Red Hand. We also need to investigate this blockade as it appears this is a vital strategic vein for the allied forces,” muses Kulin.

The hero’s spur their mounts to get as far as possible with the late start. In the morning of the second day to Rhest the party is traveling along the road and a hobgoblin steps out into the road, roaring at the party and rushing Brandar.

Bursting through the trees canopy, a brilliantly emerald green dragon the size of a large human dives on the party and breathes a noxious cloud of corrosive gas upon the hero’s. In tandem, another of those otherworldly man-sized wolves charges Calyassa and engages the warrior priestess.

As the melee continues, Ozranndion howls, “I have been sent to finish what I could not earlier, by the order of Abrithrax! You must die here and now, failure is not an option!” Darting in and out of the tree line, Kulin launches his repeating crossbow into the trees, arrows seeking out the evading dragon.

The fight is won in the end with the interrogation and ultimate execution of Ozranndion. Brandar attempted to skin and strip the dragon of anything that may or may not be useful, rather than carrying the carcass. After a couple hours of butchering the body of Ozranndion, Bo rolls up the meaty skin still oozing blood and fat and stuffs into his bag.

After several days of traveling the party passes by the villages of Terrelton, Talar and heads north to Witchcross. All but Glok move into town to get some supplies and information, making the stop a short one.


Once our travelers pass through the outskirts of Witchcorss and pick up the Old Rhest Trail, in the distance can be seen a large wooden stockade. Using the magic rope that Glok found and approaching the walls under the cloaking power Kulin, our hero's seige the stockade.

Before the last member of the stockade is put to the sword the party questions the leader of the stockade. The information that is gleaned names Sa’arrvith as the leader of the Kulkor Zhul among the Blackfens. He rides a black dragon named Regarix. Sa’arrvith is a hunter of great renown amongst the Red Hand. The sorcerer knows nothing of what is going on in the marsh and why a Wyrmlord is stationed there.

To Tell of Bad News

9th of Fireseek
Drellin's Ferry

After setting down the squirrel from his right shoulder and the small bird flying off his left shoulder, Kulin hastily speaks, “I agree, we need to move on to Drellin’s Ferry. We have been too long away from the town that asked for our help and we cannot stop this horde by ourselves.”

Glok anxious to fly back to the town nods his feather head in agreement while spitting seeds from his beak.
-
Bo grinds one fist into the palm of his other hand as if awaiting an argument, adding, “If we stay and take out the giant we can deliver a powerful blow to this Kulkor Zhul, or whatever they call themselves and crush their morale or at the very least if we encounter them again that is one less giant to have to worry about,”

-
“I agree with you to an extent Bo, but we really do need to get back. Their forces are becoming tougher to fight and time is of the essence,” says Kulin, laying a calming hand on the proud shoulder of the dwarf.

Smiling, Bo looks to the gold coin in his hand and laughs, “Yes, actually it is time to go back to town.”

-
After several hours traveling back to Drellin's, a dead horse is found on the road with several arrows protruding from the remains. Bo bends down and looks to the group identifying the arrows as goblin; the horse belonged to Jorr.

As the Heros enter town they are greeted by an advanced patrol of guards not far from the town's river, the Elsir. Kulin, Brandar and to a lesser extent Darkman are greeted by the patrol and smiles broaden their faces. After fording the river and checking into the Old Bridge Inn, someone comes to offer to take their belongings to wash and hem their clothes. As Brandar sniffs his armpits and Kulin looks to his singed and bloodied vest and pants they readily agree.

Shortly after going downstairs to find town Speaker Wiston and Captain Soranna they find them both parties in the tavernroom with a few other notables.

Kulin correctly surmises and tells Bo, "this has to be the rest of the town council or the important people of the town who count."

"Good, It's time to collect my gold!," rumbles Brandar.

Speaker Wiston stands and waves over Brandar and Kulin to join them at the table, "Cormanin lindua ele govennan, Brandar and Kulin," nodding to both of them.

"It is good to see you in good health as well Speaker," Kulin replying in dwarven.

Brandar shaking the apparently almost empty belt pouch at his side and grumbling, "Ale, Aye, I need some Ale here!"

Accompanying Wiston and Soranna at the table are clearly the other members that make up the town council. The first is a middle aged woman who introduces herself as Delora Zann. Tall and broad shouldered one can see that she carries herself with confidence and appears to be a no nonsense sort of woman. She tells you that she at one time belonged to a band of adventures named “The Golden Drake Company,” now retired.
-
Moving to her right is an old man named Imorel. Tall with a halo of tangled white hair, his face always appears to be in a sneer. Imorel is a wealthy land owner and has been on the town council for more than 30 years.

The halfling sitting to the right of Imorel, introduces himself as Kellin Shadowbanks, head of the halfling clan here in Drelling’s Ferry. Good natured and affable, Kellin has brown hair, dressing in silks, rare in this area, with a fashionable broad-belted waistcoat.
-

"We have very pressing business to attend to Speaker, so I will get right to it. Drellin's Ferry is going to be sacked in the very near future," says Kulin as he very carefully eye's every member at the table to get the point across.
-

“More Ale!!!!” bellows Brandar from the table that they are all sitting at.

Kulin ignores the bellicose dwarf and snaps his finger. At once, the table seemingly comes to life: the surface waves as mounds form, miniature trees sprout up along the edges, and a bridge forms over a chasm. The table has become a shadowy, though life-like map.

“My companions and I have traveled beyond the bridge. What we saw defies words.” Four figures are seen moving across the bridge and crawling up a hill. As they peer over, the virtual map shifts, revealing a plain populated by a monstrous army thousands and thousands strong. Above the troops, fly several dragons. The larger red one, grows and grows, making several of the townsfolk visibly uncomfortably. The red dragon continues to grow as it flaps its wings around the room. When it becomes the size of the entire room, it lets out a fiery breath and disappears.
-
Waiting a few moments to let everyone soak in everything they saw, Kulin continues, “We have done everything in our power to stop this horde. We have destroyed the bridge, we have fought numerous battles.” The table sprouts the four heroes as they battle hobgoblins, giants, and a dragon.


“However,” the figures disappear and Kulin jumps on the table, “there is nothing, nothing that can be done against such a force. You have no choice. You must head to Brindol.”

Taking in a small breath and allowing the town council to absorb what just transpired, Imorel turns even more pasty than is normal for his old age. A few small claps come from Shadowbanks, “Job well done Kulin, We here have no doubt what you say is true but we are a little confused. We have this letter delivered by the dying Jorr.”

Imorel gains composure once again gaining some bravado now that the spectacle that Kulin wove is now gone, “YES your letter said all was well and that the threat was stopped, signed by your own hand,” as he slams his open palm on a sheet of paper on the table, sliding it over to Kulin in the same motion.

“Where is our sllmoney, I mean money” proclaims the inebriated Brandar.

Ignoring Brandar, Kulin reaches for the letter and begins to read it. In the short moments It takes the gnome to read the letter the town council begins to chatter. The common room is packed with villagers straining to get word of what is the latest with the trouble infesting Drellin’s Ferry.

“Speaker and Council members this letter is a fraud. Clearly someone has created this in hope that your measures to evacuate the town are stalled. No doubt hoping that they were going to capture or kill us and you would be none the wiser. You must make preparation now! I sent the riders you gave us, apparently they did not make it back?” informs Kulin.

Imorel stands with the aid of his cane, now red faced, “No they did not! We were going to pay you to stop this and you have not. Now you tell us we need to leave all we know and love. Cannot we make a stand at the Elsir River and defend what we have!”

Delora eases Imorel back to his seat, “Kulin and company we thank you for what you have done, It seems that all the attacks on the town have all but stoped…”
-
“Part of the plan no doubt in making the letter more believable,” as Kulin cuts in.

-
“That may be the case, but too much is at stake. My vote is to move to Terrelton at the very least and wait for more word. It is my suggestion to the Council that we pay these able warriors what is due to them, 500 gold per person I believe, Wiston?”

Soranna speakes “shall I make the arrangements for the exodus?”

-
“Yes to both,” Replies the Speaker.

As the last ends of the meeting are coming to close a commotion begins to form at the enterence to the tavern. A giant, heavily tanned human strolls through the front door with a woman in tow. Caked dirt and sweat permeate the large man. Emblazoned upon his chest is the face of the Sun God, Pelor. Upon his battered shield are the markings that place him as a Lion of Brindol, the Dukes elite guard.

-
As people make an open path for the man and his companion to the bar, Brandar spies a glimpse of the human through his ale filled, impaired eyes, “I CALL CHALLENGE! A TEST OF STRENGTH AND HONOR,” roars a drunk Bo. The human smiles and makes his way to the table.

In a deep voice hoarse with dust, “My name is Tayano Suri, Lion of Brindol, sent by Lord Jarmaath to investigate the rumblings west of Drellin’s Ferry. Word has spread that the area is in turmoil. My traveling companion is Caliayssa, favored of Pelor,” glancing to the woman behind him.

Events are discussed and Tayano adds, “The Rhest trail leading north is cut off. There is a barracks blocking the way in or out, staffed with Hobgoblins and several Ogres. If what you say is true then we will not be able to send information out for reinforcements or use that as an escape route for the villages if need be.”

“ARM WRESTLE ME IF YOU DARE HUMAN!” yells Bo flexing his massive arms.

A stressed smile crosses the face the Lion, “I shall when I am finished here.”

“If you wish I would like to lend you Caliayssa’s aid, for I fear you will need it,” Tayano offers.

The offer is accecpted, the debt in gold is paid, the test of strength, left for talk around the campfire as the legend of Tayano and the might of Pelor grows among the towns folk. Plans are made to evacuate the village and the hero’s make their leave in the morning.

Now what?

After we fall back and regroup, Glok, still in hawk form comes to a rest in a tree about head high next to the group. "So we gave it a day, nothing significant has happened. I'm flying back to town to tell Boyd and the town of their impending doom." Turning to Kulin, the bird adds "can you look after Zabnic until I return? I will instruct him to guard you for that time." While waiting for a response, Glok looks anxious to take to the wind. "maybe you meet me at Drellin's Ferry?"

A question for the Darkman

Again Glok leaps off his log and waddles over to the Darkman. With each of his step he shifts all of his weight from one bowl-legged leg to the other. Even though his gait and posture force his head to swing side to side, his eyes remain fast on the Darkman. When Glok is within his own arms distance from the Darkman, he takes a minute to inspect the Darksman's face and skin. Looking as though he is tempted to poke and pinch, Glok only twists his head as he examines the Darkman's body more closely. With a quick snap of his attention and eyes, Glok looks directly up into the eyes of the Darkman and asks, "How many years you have?" Pausing for an answer, Glok's eyes go back to the Darkman's body with a confused look, but just for a second. Quickly returning to the Darkman's eyes, Glok waits for a response.

One More Try

8th of Fireseek,
Skullgorge Bridge

Pulling around the small camp and nursing wounds sustained in the fight at the bridge the party falls into a solemn state of affairs. After about an hour or so Kulin begins to round the group for a discussion on what the next course of action is.

“We have seven hours before my trap on the bridge goes away and lets them cross,” Glok states huddled in the center of camp eyes darting to the perimeter.

“At least we have that much time to figure out a plan,” Brandar growling as he picks at the blisters on his skin from the dragons corrosive gas breath.

Darkman speaks in his solemn tone, “Take out the bridge and be done with this.”

Eventually a plan is formulated. A crude map is drawn in the dirt with a stick and options for the angle of attack are considered. One member of the party goes to investigate the bridge as the seven hours is almost up and the information they brought back was discouraging.

“There are hundreds of them on this side of the bridge. It looks like they dispelled my trap on the bridge,” reports Glok in anger and a flurry of spittle.

Brandar stops the picking at his skin and his head slumps mumbling, “I can’t believe I didn’t think that they might be able to dispel the bridge. They are an army after all. We have no way of knowing what they are capable of and what the extent of their resources are."

Glok replying, “There must be a couple hundred hobgoblins and several Giants, along with a few Ogres on this side of the bridge. I also noticed fast moving worgs with goblin riders. They are spread out as though expecting trouble.”

Conversation is continued and they determine that they must try one more time to repel the horde here and kill as many as possible. The party must wait recoup their spells as well as tend to their wounds and in the morning another assault on this side of the bridge commences.

The party starts off by skirting the north end of the gorge with Kulin in the lead. Glok takes to the air as a falcon scouting the area. Brandar and the Darkman follow far behind. Not long after they move into position, Kulin summons his ancestors to fight for him. Brandar and Darkman charge in for the kill. Moments go by and Ozzrandion the green dragon takes flight to survey the battlefield. Glok begins to squawk and flutter about throwing spells meant to hamper the storming horde and buy the three ground troops some time. Kulin launches what looks like hundreds of arrows into the air, landing in large clumps, decimating the advancing the horde. Screams of rage and pain are all that fill the scene. All the hero’s can see are a sea of troops foaming at the mouth to hopefully add their enemies to their cook pots.

A “BOOM” followed by a low roar is heard and Glok looks to visualize a dome of liquid fire engulf some of his party. The heat wave coming off the blast is so strong that even Glok in the air needs to squint. Charged with arcane power and the divine might of Wee Jas the hero’s fell one enemy after another. Just after declaring battle and as combat ensues, some of the party feels magic begin to pull away from their body. There is only one form of magic that can strip the powers of Wee Jas and nullify arcane endowments, that being the power to undo magic, Dispel. In the alarming succession of fireballs begins the dispelling efforts from somewhere within the horde.

Darkman and Brandar feeling the brunt of the reversal magic, prod on. Black bolts of energy crackle past, attempting to weaken and bring the hero’s to their knees. Fireballs, magic missiles, and dispel continuing, Ozzrandion swoops in for a closer look. As Ozzradnion appears to ready himself to make a dive on a hero locked in melee, he quickly adjusts and flies straight at Glok to take a bite out of the bird that is goblin at heart. As entangle spells begins to disappear and giants move in to clean up this mess once and for all, Ozzrandion dives to smother the melee combatants in a fog of corrosive gas. Kulin dropping to his knees howls in pain. Darkman seeing and hearing this decides that before his escape route is closed off he needs to rescue Kulin.
After killing many of the enemy, the sound is made to beet feet and retreat.

Retreating back into the dense Witchwood, a suitable area is found to make camp. Spending the rest of the day the party discusses the days fight.

With a scowl Glok moans, “I was just thinking that in all the time I've fought, I have never had an army spam dispel magic before.”

With a look of surprise Brandar comments, “How many times have you fought an army? This is a first for me. We should have realized that we might encounter more casters when they dispelled the bridge.”

“Where did all those casters come from throwing those magic nullifying spells, we have not seen those before. The first thing they did was to dispel us. How did they know to use Dispel against us, and at the first sigh of battle no less.” says a pouting Darkman. "The only way they could have known that we were magically enhanced was to cast detect magic on us and we were out of range," anger building in the normally stoic Darkman.

Kulin finally adding to the discussion after some contemplation, “Did we expect an easy fight? We fight an intelligent foe, it’s not like we are fighting a group of oozes or fungus. We knew before going in that there were many more troops on this side of the field. How are we to begin to even fathom what they have at their disposal? They ally themselves with dragon, manticore and chimera not to mention ogre’s and giants.

To Darkman, “Think about this, we have fought the horde now on many occasions. And many time allies of the Red Hand have lived to tell the heads of the Horde about us. Of course they know who we are and what we can do. They have seen our tactics, down to our use of flying phantom fish, entangle spells, spike stones and many other spells. I pose this question, have we not enhanced our fighting and defensive abilities before each fight via magic? Don’t you think they do the same? Readying dispel magic is sound strategy, not only against Glok’s entangle but also against us. This was our third fight for the bridge in three days. They clearly expect us. I would not be surprised if they had even more reinforcements if we went again. Another thing, do you have any idea how many spell casters were out there? There are hundreds of hobgoblins out there; can you differentiate who is casting and who is not? Except for the front line coming at us, I could not with any certainty identify through the mass of bodies who is casting and who is not.”

“We are also discounting one very important possibility, their use of Divination magic. They are an army, assume that they have spells to detect us and glean information about us,” says Kulin as though addressing a classroom. “We also need to consider the Red Hand bringing the fight to us when we are unprepared. For the last two nights they have found our camp three times, that worries me."

Holding the Line

7th of Fireseek,

Skull Gorge Bridge

After returning to the bridge and seeing what was beyond at Cinder Hill, the day draws to an end and the party goes to camp in the woods beyond on the south side of the bridge.

That evening the party is interrupted at by a wicked looking lupine creature that announces it’s presence. As it approaches on the fringes of the group it stands on its large hindquarters, oddly standing like a human and begins to speak. It introduced its self as Ixella and had orders to deliver not only a truce but an offer of allegiance. After the terms were laid down and the conditions stated the group pulled together and after a very brief conversation tried to negotiate with Ixella.

“The terms are as stated. I was told that this is the one and only offer that was to be delivered. If it was turned down then the Kulkor Zhul "Children of the Dragon" would destroy you along with the rest of Elsir Vale.

Brandar becoming belligerent begins to taunt Ixella and demand more money or they personally destroy this little uprising. “I demand to speak with your leader”, as Brandar flexes his fists. “We will only discuss the terms of the arrangement with whoever is in charge.”

Ixella falling down to all four legs, backing away from the group slowly says, “This is the only deal, take it or leave it. What shall I tell my master?”

Receiving the hero’s answer, Ixella leaves to inform the horde.

Morning approaches and strategies are made as to the best way to attack the horde and defend the bridge. Another large battle ensues and the hero’s are eventually repulsed by the single blast of chlorine gas from Ozzrandion the green dragon. Very little magic was used against the party in the first and second battles. It seemed as though the dragon was much closer and he came not alone. A great red dragon accompanied the medium sized green in an attempt to finally squash this little thorn in the foot of the Horde. With this presence of the two dragons some wise party members decided to leave sooner than later. Those not so wise almost didn’t make it out alive, something to be said for dwarven stubbornness.

To Assult an Army

6th of Fireseek,
Attack on Skull Gorge Bridge

After about a half days journey to the bridge the party assaults the enemy. Brandar crushing enemies with his axe and spells, Glok immobilizing the same targets with his spike stones and entangle spells, Kulin firing his mighty repeating cross bow at the dragon and Darkman, constantly stunning his opponents senseless just to beat them again before they know what hit them win against the day. Successfully repelling the dragon and with the aid of a swarm of phantom fish, putts it all to an end. The group searches the tents to find more treasure and many weapons.

According to Jorr and the two hobgoblins that were captured the army is gathering at Cinder Hill, about a day’s journey there and back. The prisoners say the army is in the thousands, Jorr finding that very hard to believe, excepting that the presence of a dragon is proof enough to believe that hobgoblin is telling the truth. The party deems it necessary to travel to Cinder Hill to find out for themselves.

As evening pulls the curtains around the sky the road you have been following crests a rugged ridge, sparsely covered with wind twisted pine trees. From the ridge you find yourself looking across a large broad vale, with a rugged knoblike hill or small mountain on the opposite side. The Dawn Way cuts through the valley like a knife. The valley is filled with a great encampment. Hundreds of tents dot the valley floor, interspersed with bulky siege engines, groups of wagons, some holding slaves others holding supplies and holding pens for draft beasts. You can easily make out hundreds of warriors in view at any given time. Bands of goblin worg riders patrol the outskirts, battalions of fierce hobgoblins engage in mock battles with martial shouts and the clang of steel on steel, hulking giants plod from place to place with large sacks of boulders at their hips, and far in the distance you see a scarlet colored dragon lazily circling overhead, riding on the fading thermals of the day. This is easily an army numbering in the thousands!

A Bridge of Skulls

4th of Fireseek,
Witchwood, Vraath Keep and Skull Gorge Bridge.

After some discussion on what to do, it seems that there is more to these small raids than meets the eye. The party talks and agrees that today would be a good time to split up. Glok staying to summon his animal companion at Vraath Keep the other party members travel to Skull Gorge Bridge to investigate what is going on there.

As the group approaches the ground slightly raising for the last few miles the forest begins to peter out. Ahead is a stretch of barren ground about 70 feet wide, ending in a gorge. Roughly 200 feet wide from cliff edge to cliff edge at its narrowest point, the gorge drops away to a fast moving river below. This appears to be the only easy to cross the gorge as far as the eye can see to the east and west. Four stone towers guard the passage across, two on each side. A narrow wooden stairway winds up the outside of each tower.

Not being able to see on the far side of the gorge, this side looks to be protected by a patrolling hellhound and a few hobgoblins on the ground. On the towers are posted a couple of archers and on the far side of the bridge is a green dragon curled upon the tall tower. It’s green scales brilliantly reflecting off the fading sun, head pointed in the direction of the bridge as if keep an eye on the passage. As the party watches from afar, they notice one or two small scouting bands come and go from the far side of the bridge. Comming to the conclusion that they have seen all they are going to see, the party heads back to Vraath‘s.

After a day of rest the group has gathered enough info to put together that the giants to the north are the same giants that have battled Emery Vraath all those years ago. Approaching the giants in parlay, they find out that the Red Hand had approached them for help in destroying the humans. Kulin taking the lead in negotiations strikes a bargain. In return for their heirloom gloves that were discovered in Vraath’s basement, the giants will not only pull their support from the Red Hand, but will also harry the Band of the Red Hand and attempt to slow their progress through the Witchwood. Which is about all that Old Werkengnaw and his clan of forest giants can do.

Storming the Castle

3rd of Fireseek,
Witchwood, Vraath Keep

In the morning the group scouts the keep to get as much info as possible before entering the keep to attack its inhabitants. The old keep seems to be on disrepair, looming out of the shadows of the tall trees. The keep sits on a small hill covered, strategically by the shape of the hill and the trees. It appears that the trees were planted to give the keep maximum camouflage. The gate house is partially collapsed, as is a section of the south wall. A small wooden shack sits behind a forgotten vegetable garden. The walls around the keep are 15 feet high, with a two story tower on the corner. This keep was clearly built for giants to live in. There were large boulders strewn all over the courtyard and several skeletons of Giants about the keep.

Some of the answers that they got from interrogating the hobgoblins at Jorr's place said that raiding/scouting groups come and go from the keep at all times of the day. Their leader is a huge bugbear named Koth. They didn’t know very much other than their base is Vraath Keep and that Koth took his orders from someone else, though who, they did not know. The party watched for a few moments to see if anyone was coming in or out, scouted by an invisible Kulin. Two guards were spotted in the front and some growling monster was in another part of the keep behind some heavy wooden doors. Worgs were stabled to the opposite side of the keep and in the main house were stationed some hobgoblins.

The attack ensued and the party stormed into the main quarters of the keep and shut out the goblins and worgs that were stationed outside. The manticore, hobgoblins a minotaurt and what had to be Koth joined the fight. Dodging tail spikes and lightning bolts, almost falling to the combined effort of the manticore and Koth. The party succeeded in capturing Koth as the manticore flew away, nursing its wounds.

Putting Koth to the question revealed many disturbing facts. It appears that the band of the red hand in an army and they are amassing behind Cinder Hill to the north. According to Koth, the army numbers in the thousands, consisting of war priests and sorcerers, hobgoblin elite warriors wielding masterwork weapons and armor, confirmed from your own findings. He knows that there are four commanders that lead the the Red Hand. Himself, a goblin assassin named Saarvith, another hobgoblin bard named Ulwai, and a monstrous hobgoblin named Haverek Kharn a “Chosen” of Tiamat. Kharn controls the horde itself, Saarvith has been sent on a special mission to the ruins of Rhest, and does not know where Ulwai is. The Highlord who rules them all is Azarr Kul. The army consists of all the tribes of the surrounding mountains for hundreds of miles around, united by Azarr Kul himself, calling his people "Kulkor Zhul" which translates to the People of the Dragon. Several dragons serve the Highlord as advisors, messengers, sub commanders and mounts.

Skull Gorge Bridge is a major key in the advance of the horde, destroying it would delay the army many days. The dragon Ozzrandion was coming and going from Vraath Keep to Skull Gorge to obtain updates and deliver orders from the Horde.

Ultimately, Koth tried to escape and was killed in the process. Upon scouting the ruins and Koth’s quarters more is discovered. A map drawn by Koth appears to have the Hordes travel directions and time table. The map is approximatly 8 feet wide by 6 feet tall. Among Koth's belongings was an old scroll written in magic writtings that appeared to describe a summoning. Brandar grabbing and examining it concluded that it is a summoning/binding diagram, keyed to a specific creature or individual. The writtings appear to mention Tiamat, the goddess and creator of all evil dragons. This is looks to be very old and is one page of many, how many is unknown.
-

Spending some time and searching the ruins reveals a secret passage that clearly was unknown to Koth. Opening the hatch pushes gusts of stale air into the open. Descending below, a secret storeroom reveals the obvious remains of Emery Vraath, a massive arrow protruding from his ribs and a sparkling bastard sword in his hand. Found in this room was a staff of white oak carved to resemble braided bands of holly and oak leaves, topped with a unicorn horn. A pair a huge very primitive gloves made from animal hair, boar's teeth and bear claws. A small fortune in gold, silver and platinum. Lord Vraath had kept his office in this room as well, among his things were several diaries and notes of credit and in addition the deed to his keep, naming the possessor the rightful owner.

Turn in the road

2nd Fireseek,

Witchwood

Getting an early start Darkman, Brandar and Kulin meet Glok on the outskirts, just north of the town. Following the directions given by Soranna the heros travel to seek out Jorr the trapper and guide of the Witchwood.

The Witchwood, according to Glok is an ancient forest with lush, darkly thick trees overhead. It is a wet woodland interspersed with swampy streches in the vicinity of the large river and smaller tributaries. It seems to be crisscrossed by a handful of old trails, most cut years ago by hunters, woodcutters and trappers. The trail that the group had been following was blocked by a pair of woodland trolls feasting on the remains of some forest creature, which the group had no problem disposing of and burning before it could pull itself together again.

The trail lead past a small cabin in a deep forest glade. A ramshackle front porch was littered with fishing baskets and skinning frames. The back of the cabin overlooked a lake or bayou that had old grey cedar-trees draped in moss rising out of the water. An old water skiff was tied up on the shore near by and smoke rising out of the chimney. Several large dogs lie dead at the doors base.

The hobgoblins who think thwy have the upperhand by holding Jorr, tied, gaged and bound, held a dagger to his throat, taunting the group to make a move. The move was made and the thoat was cut from ear to ear, Jorr's limp body falling to the ground, blood pouring out of his wound. Brandar, Kulin and Glok engaging the enemy and darkman rushing to tend to Jorr's wounds.

After a quick word of thanks old Jorr agrees to be the party's guide through the Witchwood. Jorr produces a quick map and begins to guide the party in the direction of Vraath Keep, the most likely base of opperations of the humanoid raids.

Some time goes by and the band travels through some marshy forest on there way to Vraath Keep. On their way a wide expanse of dark water has flooded the woodland in this low valley. Tree still stand from the calm, murky waters here and there, but many of the large areas seem to be little more than open pools of algae-choked water. The sound of frogs and the buzz of insects filled the air. The forest trail lead right down to the edge of a flooded section, up to a rickety looking plank bridge made of thick planks of wood, lasahed together with mossy rope. The bridge ran several hundred feet before hitting land again only a couple of feet above the water level.

As the heros approached the bridge they noticed the wreckage of a wagon lying on its side, half flooded in the water. The wreckage was about 30 feet from the bridge in the muddy water. After a closer inspection there appeared to be a large snake resting atop the wagon. One of the party members cast a spell to detect magic on the wagon. Finding a faint glimmer of magic near the wagon the party deemed it important enough to risk to go after it.

Springing out of the water was a six headed hydra, to hopefully become the next dinner for the hungry serpent. After a few good bites on the party, they vanquish the regenerating creature and quickly dig in the mud for the treasure they so greedily wanted.

After traveling for some time it was time to make camp. Jorr tells the group that they should reach the keep in the early morning....

Night's Rest

Early evening first of Flamerule,

Drellin's Ferry

At the spot where the Dawn Way crosses the Elsir River stands the small town of Drellin's Ferry, once known as Dwarfbridge. As the old name implies, long ago the Elsir was spanned by a sturdy dwarven made bridge, but as you quickly find out a large storm about 100 years ago washed out the bridge in a great flood. An enterprising man named Drellin hammered together a small horse-drawn ferry to maintain a river crossing here, and the town grew around it.

Before going into town Glok and Boyd talk for a few moments then Glok and Zabnik wave to the group and disappears into the Witchwood.

The road below descends into a small town built mostly on the east side of the broad sluggish river. Six old stone piers jut out from the water, marking the spot where the old bridge once stood. Off to the side running across the river, a couple long, thick ropes span the river, secured to a couple of flat bottom ferryboats. Brown fields and green orchards, surround the town. A group of armed towns folk, three in leather and one in mail, stands guard and watching you with caution. "Be at ease and state your business, strangers," says the guard in mail.

As Boyd, the caravan merchant stands and delcares his intentions, a brief parlay ensues and it appears that the local militia has massed in protection of the town. Hobgoblins and goblins mounted on large wolves have been attacking the towns borders. He's states that they are glad a merchant has made it through the Witchwood, hope is not lost to the town.

With the Dawn Way cutting through the center of town, you were told to check out the "Old Bridge Inn and Tavern" as this was the most accomodating for travelers and merchants. As you check in, there is a halfling at the desk off to the side of the tavern bar, a half elf bard on a table spinning tales and a brash young swashbuckler testing his charms on what few ladies are present. The halfling has rooms and a meal for two golden orbs a day, which includes stabbling of horses. You get to your rooms and just as you are about to wash up in the basin of your room a knock comes at Kulin's door.

Outside in the hallway stands a tall, balding manof about fifty. "My appoligizes for the interuption, but if you could spare some time I would like to buy you and your companions a drink," the man says. "My name is Norry Wiston, and I am the town Speakerfor Drellin's Ferry and this is guard Captain, Soranna," pointing to his right. "Our town is in dire need of help and I was hoping you and your friends might be able to help us out."

Kulin agrees to the meeting and summons the rest of the party, thinking it prudent to have Boyd there as well, to gather in the common room down stairs. Kulin, Darkman, Brandar and Boyd go to talk to the town speaker.

"Our town is under attack," the speaker begins. "Humanoid raiders have been harrowing our town for weeks now. The have attacked our outlying farms and homesteads killing the people living there, as well as waylaying travelers and merchants along the Dawn Way."

Captain Soranna adds, "We have had trouble with them before, a quick raid on border homes west of the Elsir, usually not that bad, but this is different. It looks as if a large tribe has moved out of the Wyrmsmoke Mountians. Frankly, I believe they may be numerous enough to sack the town."

"Beyond the immediate threat to our homes and farms, the Dawn Way is our life blood," stresses the speaker. "If the hobgoblins make the road impassable, trade will not come this way and we will be ruined. Not only do we need to repel the raiders but we need to keep the road open. Will you help us?"

After several hours have gone by and questions asked the group agrees to help. Here are the initial facts.

1. 500 golden orbs each for successful routing


2. Between 50 and 100 warriors tops


3. Allies of the hobgoblin's include flying lions, creatures that stand like a man but appear to come from the sea, with scales and fins, large dogs that breathe fire and hobgoblin leaders weilding foul magic.


4. Seek Jorr to obtain a good guide through the Witchwood as they are surely camped in the thick forest.


5. Vraath Keep may be a stronghold for them but it is supposed to be haunted.
   

The morning brings a new direction.

A New Begining

Evening 22nd of Sunebb,

After a quick search for survivors and useable gear in Tarwin’s Gap the intrepid adventures moved onto Fal Mor’an. With the unrelenting heat of the day the decision was made to start rationing water, as no water was found in town. The wells of the Gap were dry and as to make matters worse, many of the bodies of the town’s people had been unceremoniously dropped into the wells.

The journey to Fal Mor’an took two long and hot days. Dragging into Fal Mor’an, the sight was the same. Glok moving ahead to scout on the back of his mighty worg Zabnik noticed survivors with in the town. Thinking it wise to inform the group he returns back to the party. As the group enters the town the sight is the same, burnt and ruined. People seem to move as if in a daze to the newcomers. Rags are all that cover the survivors. A few children huddle close to what might be their parents. Again buildings are collapsed and burnt out shells. Camp is set and a few members of the caravan go out to talk to the remaining people in town.

What is discovered is that a large group of Hobgoblin and worg riding goblins came in about three weeks prior and destroyed the town. The consensus seems to be that the war band was no more than 40 and no less than 20 warriors. Whoever didn’t play dead or run into hiding was thrown into irons and hauled off to the west somewhere into the mountains. After some consideration and talk amongst the group they decided to try and go for Drellin’s Ferry in the morning and bring as many as the refugees as possible, about twenty in all, mostly women and children. If they were to stay, they would assuredly die of starvation or exposure as the days are only getting warmer.

The next morning was an early start as the travel time to Drellin’s Ferry was about eighty miles. By Boyd’s best estimate, it would take them about four days to reach Drellin’s, with the refugees about six. Glok coming to the camp fire next to the wagon sit and gathers the group. You surmise that the refugees are sticking to themselves as you can clearly tell the children whimper anytime Glok get near and the Dark Man gazes in their direction.

Through an impossible under bite, “We run low on food and water. Food I tried to do something about…” lifting a skinny possum. “…the land has been picked clean. This clutch band has scoured the land and raped away its ability to provide for us.” Glok spitting onto the bone dry dirt.

With the dim light of the sigils swirling around his head, just lighting enough to see a sparkle in his eyes below his brow, Dark Man squats near the fire and says, “There is much death and suffering in this land, it is thick in the air” As he raises his nose to the sky and draws in a large deep breath. Those we have seen have gone before their time. My chest burns with those that must pay for their transgressions,” As he rubs a hand over his tattooed chest.

“I think we need to be very careful here. Glok have you seen any sign of the hobgoblins or the goblin riders?” asks Kulin.

Glok shakes his head, “nothing.”

“It might be good to assume that Drellin’s might be in the same condition as the last two towns, what do you think Boyd?” ask Kulin

“Well there might not be any money in this trade route if there are no longer any towns along the route. We should pick up the Dawn’s Way soon. Travel will be much faster then,” states Boyd.

Glok grunts, “It could be that they have not entered the forest yet. It is much harder for raiding bands to enter forests where they can be detected more easily and prepared aginst. It is slower moving for larger groups in the forest and I don’t see them using the road.”

“lets us call out to them and bring them to us so we can split their skulls,” Brander smiling through an immensely thick beard.

“We need to get to a town to get these people to safety and replenish our goods, then we can decide what to do,” Boyd states.

The caravan enters what the map calls the Elsir Vale on the afternoon of the fifth day. Leaving the great sea of dry, windblown grass and entering a vale of slightly more green rolling hills and the Witchwood beyond.

According to Brandar the Dawn’s Way appears to be an old dwarven road of cobblestone. He tells the party that it could be in the upwards of over 400 years old. While moving on the Dawn’s way the party travels rather quickly. According to the map the party enters the Witchwood at about dusk and sets camp for the night.

As the morning peels away the evening’s darkness the Witchwood seems to live up to its namesake. The thickly packed forest keeps in the night’s moisture resulting in a mysterious ground fog that puts the first chill in the air that no one has felt since leaving Hochoch.

Shortly after the caravan gets moving again they are ambushed by a several hobgoblins and a couple of fire breathing mastifs. After a short battle and bandaging a few wounds they reach Drellin's Ferry at night fall at the end of the sixth day since leaving Fal Mor'an.

The journey continues...

Desloate

20th Sunebb: Hochoch, about three weeks earlier.

“Sweet Beory it’s hot today and the sun is barely up. Please ease your terrible gaze Earth Mother” throwing dry dirt into the wind as the teamster looks to Boyd.

“let us get a move on shall we, we have much distance to cover today. I want to be out of Hochoch and in the prairie by sundown. Can we make ten leagues by that time, I have someone to meet and I can’t keep them waiting?” asks Boyd.

“Sure we can, as long as the dwarf and gnome don’t slow us down. Better keep your eye on the dark one though, he is strange enough.”

“That he is, but he checks out and that is all that matters for me. I hope they all pitch in when, not if we get in trouble. That is why I need to catch up with Glok and Zabnik so as to get an idea as to what we face out here, because the reports don’t sound good. How long till we reach Tarwin’s gap?” asks Boyd.

Looking to Boyd, “I assume no later than two days, assuming we get into no trouble. The reopening of the western corridor is an ambitious feat. Sure it can be done?” the teamster unrolling a map of the area.

“Yes, but I wish this heat would subside as it is a drain. This weather is not good for the drafts or us for that matter.” Boyd smiling under his mustache, “I am interested to see how long the dwarf, Brandar is going to travel in that boiler oven of armor.”

As the hours pass by the group remains steadily quiet. An hour before camp sets a rider come out from the southern Dim forest. The wagon with Boyd and the teamster seemed not alarmed. Kulin,the gnome, coolly looks to Boyd to see if alarm is warranted. Boyd, not appearing worried, Kulin turns to look at the approaching worg ridding goblin. Boyd and the goblin converse and after about 5 minutes, introductions are made and camp is set.

As the journey of the second day comes to an end, the town of Tarwin's Gap is seen in the distance. Overcome by shadows of the setting sun, blocked out by the giant mountian range known as the Crystal Mists the town lies about a 10 minute ride by horse back. The wagon with Boyd and the teamster stays behind as Brandar, Kulin, Dark man and Glok go in to take a look. As they approach, what they see beyond is utter destruction. Only the remains of a few buildings stand, hollowed out by fire. The party splits up looking for evidence of what happened. Some time goes by and Glok the goblin signals Boyd to come into town.

After some preliminary talk amoungst the group, it is clear that this is the work of the raiders and bandits they were warned about before setting out on this journey. Very few bodies were left and of those most were women and children. Few men were found dead with the wounds of battle. Just before night fall, Dark man is spotted carrying a childs body to a grave that was dug by his own hands.

The journey continues...

The Spirit World

6th of Flamerule,



As the Brandar O'Dule arises from his restless nights sleep he gazes through blurry eyes at the site of Glok sucking the juices from the pealed remains of raw rabit flesh, Glok smiling back with bits of carcass and coagulated fat dripping off his chin. Glok grunting with an out stretched flick of his wrist throws the other half of the meal at Brandar's feet as he licks and slurrps the blood off his fingers, his body language telling Brandar he should eat.

-

Slowly swiveling his head to the direction of the noise that awoke him in the first place, his vision still playing tricks on him as he notices Kulin grasping a squirl and talking to it as if it were a pet. Still trying to shake off the remains of sleep stuck in the croners of his eyes his visions clears on a familiar site.

-

Dark Man, standing in perfect pose, a warriors pose, his back to the rising sun, a twisted leafless tree bone white aginst the back of his black skin, slowly shifting from one stance to another in what apears to be a slow dance of limbs contorting into impossible angles and then snapping back with lightning speed to once again the same pose he started in. Realizing that he is no longer in the "spirit world", Brandar stands, slams his fist into his palm, looks to the eclectic band of people around him and says, "I want to challange that giant!"

The journey continues...