The next day comes and the party meets at the stables. You are given warm blankets and wraps to guard against the coming chill, as you will be traveling into the mountains where the weather turns nasty much sooner than Freegate. A couple of mules are provided as well to carry firewood and dried oats so you have the means to survive. As well, Dwan and Gwanele are present to give each of you a potion of Extra Healing, to help you on your quest. (I will sort out equipment and levels before the end of this week)

The first three days of travel pass without incident and you manage to find Waymeets along the way. They are not as well cared for as some, but they are sturdy and well stocked and the shelter is welcome. In fact, you meet no travellers on the roadways what so ever, and even the wildlife seems rather scarce. The weather remains sunny for those days but the night time turns very cold and you are glad for the extra firewood

On the evening of the fourth night, there is a great and violent thunderstorm. The ground shakes from the pure force of the elements. Although the lightning and thunder is powerful, the rain is actually lighter than you would expect in a storm.

On the fifth day, it continues to rain without the thunder or lightening. Again, it is not a hard rain that would cause you to pause an additional day at the Waymeet, but a cold mist-like rain that seeps into your travel cloaks and clothing, making you feel chilled to the bone. It is midday through this rain that you start to meet the first ones.

Mostly women and children – with a few older men coming from the south-east, the direction you taking. Fleeing the town, they have only meagre possessions and their own wits left. They see you coming and immediately flock to you, asking for help. They all tell of the same tale.

The town of Hevlorn was attacked. Not by an army or a large grouping of humanoids, but by these two men whom appeared in the night. One was a tall, robust man with long red hair, fancy red armour and a halberd. He seems to command fire and lightning from his weapon and flew through the air. The other, was a beast like creature with dark skin and huge talons that could jump great distances and tear apart the people without effort.

The men in the town stood their ground so that the women and children could make an escape. They have been running ever since – the attack was last night. The people are mystified that the priests of the town did not come out to help them. There is a temple of Heironeous near the castle ruins where the priests pray to contain the spirit of evil within the ruins. The priests never even left their temple; they stayed indoors and hid while innocent people were killed.
OOC: You are half a day journey away from Hevlorn, but with refuges blocking the path, you will not reach it until slightly before dusk. As far as you know, this is the only path to the town.

It was sort of pleasant to Valentine, to be out on the road adventuring again. Sure it wasn't as profitable in a time to gold ratio, but it was very exciting not knowing when the next round of action would come. He trusted his companions a bit more this time, and hoped that they returned the favor. He knew a bit more about each of them as well, and despite their occasional spats they seemed to gel... so far.

He was still hurting from the loss of Wind, the loss of Jal, and the loss of Alloyren even though she was still somewhere out there. Matthias would have to prove himself a competent mage in time - and that meant more than a simple spell slinger like many of the Reds he hated and left behind. A true mage was a pinnacle of physical abilities, not a scrawny bookworm or a fat, lazy artillery caster. Time would tell.

The trip was agonizingly dull, as days passed with no more than a few hunts for food and campfire tales. The fourth day brought an unnatural feeling thunderstorm, but it was something that without further information - Adrian had no choice but to suspiciously assume was normal. The rain continued, further raising his suspicions. The battle-mage began searching the information archived in his brain for any hint of magical causes to this weather.

Finally as some women, children and elders approached - they had something with which to work.

When they had some time to themselves, Adrian began what would probably be the obvious conclusion... they had to go. They each had their own reasons... personally Adrian wanted to find out if these stories of commanding storms from a weapon were true.

Kilgim sat on the back of his trusted Grumpy and watched the scenes slowly pass by. Even after such a long time together, he still felt somewhat uneasy riding the nasty spirited pony. More out of habit than need the dwarf wiped his bald, tattooed head with his left hand and chuckled to himself. He could still remember it like yesterday, when Terrin had first given him the reins.

It had definitely been love at first sight... Not. The animal had shared his look of disgust and it had all but refused to let Kilgim ride itself. It had taken the elven lass Terasyn quite a bit of persuasion to make Grumpy accept the stout cleric as its rider. But in the end she had somehow been able to convince the animal with an interesting personality, that cooperation would be the better option...

The thought of Terasyn made Kilgim a bit sad. Though it probably had been the foolish actions of the lassie herself that finally got her killed, it had nevertheless been an unselfish or even self-sacrificial act to save an innocent child from the fearsome group of wolves. The dwarf had to admit to himself that he missed the elven girl. They hadn't known each other too well or for very long for that matter, but he had certainly started to consider Terasyn a friend. Her loss had been a terrible setback early in their first assignment together, but they'd pulled through thanks to Char and his sudden appearance on the scene. Kilgim himself had been injured fairly badly as had Shona - a female gladiator now gone from Freegate and probably for good.

"Whoaaah!" Grumpy had apparently noticed that Kilgim no longer was concentrating on the whole riding business and decided to bring the dwarf out of his daydreaming by kicking its hind legs up in the air. It took all of the warrior priests skill and reflexes in addition to a fair deal of good luck to hang on and not fall down on the ground. Kilgim puffed out another lungful of air through his clenched teeth and the braids of his orange beard flapped around as the dwarf fought to stay in the saddle. "Knock it off Grumpy or I'll feed you to Maximus!"

Maximus... The gladiator's name had come out automatically. Kilgim had used the same threat a few times before (usually in vain) in similar situations. But the huge warrior was no longer with them and it was a big loss. The group lacked a large part of their martial power in the coming confrontations, but they - Kilgim included - were once again missing a friend as well.

Kilgim had mixed feelings about what had happened on the previous day. He had learned to value Maximus as a friend and as an accomplished warrior, and the priest knew the big man had difficulties controlling his temper whenever his pride was threatened. And frankly, Kilgim couldn't really blame the gladiator for his reaction. Had he been the target of the mage's tricks himself, Matthias would have found himself in even more trouble.

Kilgim had nothing against magic-users as such. There were conjurers he liked and those he didn't. The Art itself rarely turned people bad or made them behave in some irrational way. But sometimes magical powers turned susceptible people into power hungry monsters that considered themselves superior to all others. Hence Kilgim believed that magical powers should only be given to mortals by deities when needed. Magic was too powerful a thing for a mortal to handle - let alone control.

Fortunately there were exceptions to his rule. People like Gwanele. The archmage probably held more power within herself than the dwarf was able to understand, but still somehow managed to stay in control. And there was no fooling himself. Kilgim had to admit that on numerous occasions his life had been saved by sorcery. Therefore he held no passion towards magic, neither negative nor positive. It was a necessary evil he would have to accept.

The days passed on slowly, but the group made good progress. Sad thoughts of old friends now gone had disappeared from Kilgim's mind and even Grumpy seemed to enjoy being on the road again. Of course the pony thought the thunder and lightning on the fourth evening was the dwarf's fault and it let it show too. The angry whinnying and glaring would have made a lesser man wet his pants, but the stout cleric simply stared back and once again threatened to hang Grumpy over a fire... To no avail.

Come next midday they started to meet groups of women and children fleeing a nearby town of Hevlorn. They were running for their lives having left their homes and husbands behind. It didn't necessarily have anything to do with the mission Kilgim and his friends were on, but it was something Arien or himself couldn't leave be. Their assignment surely needed their attention, but this latest turn of events was more important now. Lives of people were in peril and they were the only ones anywhere near that could come to aid.

Dawn came all too early, as Arien's "goodbyes" had lasted well further into the evening than the young man had planned. Still, he knew full well that these missions for Dwan could well prove fatal - and he had no intention of standing before whatever judgement awaited him in the next life, carrying a sackful of regrets for a life not fully lived. Indeed, a little morning fatigue was a price well worth paying for the comforts he had enjoyed.

On the way to Dwan's stables, Arien mused about Maximus. The man had shown himself a right fool the day before, and though he was certainly a capable warrior, Arien had serious doubts as to the level of the man's commitment. If some silly prank would cause him to abandon the mission, was it such a bad thing if he left? Could such a temper not give a wily enemy an easy weapon to use against not only him, but the entire party? No, if the big warrior wished to act like a grownup and get over his pettiness, he would be welcomed. If not, Arien would lose no sleep over him.

As the group received their extra equipment at the stables - including an invaluable healing potion each - the heir to House Thedell made it a point to be gracious. "We truly appreciate these provisions, particularly the potions," the knight spoke. With a salute, he mounted Winston, and nudged the warhorse towards their destination.

The journey began uneventfully enough, though colder than Arien would have preferred. At least there was firewood and shelter - the knight had no interest in spending any more time exposed to the elements than could be avoided. Still, his spirits were good - while he has certainly enjoyed the relaxtion and fine company that Freegate offers, Arien lived for quests, and it had been long enough without one.

Then came the accursed rain, and Arien was glad that his armor is sufficiently oiled and polished. Even so, he was well aware that the weather means that he will be spending far too many hours in the coming days, maintaining his gear.

And then, the interesting events began to happen. Refugess told a tale of evil men, dark magic, and cowardly priests. The latter was particularly galling to Arien, who named Heironeous as his patron. He spits in disgust at the story of the priests' cowardice. "My sincere apologies, ladies, at the worthlessness of these who would call themselves worshippers of Heironeous," he spoke. "How such can live with themselves after allowing events like these, I do not know. You have my word that we will do all in our power to set things right."

"Char," Arien asked, "will it benefit us to leave the path, and travel cross country? Or will we lose more time than we already would in dealing with the refugess?"

The knight shook his head. "I would like for us to reach this evil as soon as possible... we should not suffer these poor people to be stricken any more than we can help. Even so, all know that darkness lends aid to such wickedness, and I would have all in our favor as is possible. What say you all?" The last is directed at the party in general.

The only reaction Char had to Maximus’ exit was to raise his eyebrows into the muss of dull brown hair draped across his tanned face. Don’ be judgin’ da man, Char-Lad, for you’d been that brash at one time if’n ya remembers correctly enough… Eftari’s voice sounded in his head as it often did when Char was reprimanding himself for thoughts unbecoming. It was a habit that had developed from the solitude of the Wilderness for months at a time, a defense mechanism against the insanity brought on by loneliness. He never shared his private conversations with others, and the memory of his mentor’s voice was often a comfort, but this time it was dismissed by a snippety response, Ne’er walked ou’ on frien’s, Eftati. Ne’er doon dat. So it was that Char was easily able to dismiss the big man and his actions. If he wasn’t going to stick around, he obviously didn’t consider them friends—or shared any sense of loyalty whatsoever—so there was no reason for the ranger to worry after him.

After the meeting, the woodsman spent the remainder of his day restocking his supplies as needed, buying a new cloak of earth brown color with a deep cowl, a bearskin fur cape to drape over the top, and then retiring to a tavern for a meal of hot stew and a cool ale before seeking out an inn for the night. That night he oiled his armor and weapons, sharpened his blades, tested the warp on his arrows, strung his bow and tested the pull, then unstrung it and prepared all of his gear for travel. He spent an hour with Northwind making sure the horse was well groomed, fed, and warm, and then he allowed himself to sleep.

The following morning he was among the first, if not the first, at the stables, and as others arrived he stood quietly by his dun and nodded a greeting to some, accompanied by his signature half-smile to those he considered his closer friends.

It was strange how just a few months before he hadn’t known any of these individuals, and yet now he considered a good portion of them some of his closest friends. Adventure did that to a person. The strains of the trail, the challenges they faced together, and the danger and hurt they experienced and won through all sewed threads of companionship and long-lasting loyalty…at least for Char. So, for those he’d traveled with in the past and who’d won his trust there was a warm greeting.

As Arien had done, Char accepted the additional items from their patrons with grace, though his was silent in nature. He was eager to get out on the road once more, never really liking to spend more than a couple of days in any city at a time, and when he was able to mount and lead the group out of the gate, Char felt free once again.

The mountain trails about Freegate were surrounded by rugged beauty that Char appreciated to no end. As the day progressed, he often found himself scanning the peaks, not for danger, but for their majestic line, and their capturing strength. This close to Freegate there wasn’t much chance of trouble, but as they drew further away, he focused more on the trail and their more immediate surroundings. His eyes darted from overturned rock to broken blade of grass looking for the telltale imprints of those who’d passed before them. He also drew further ahead of the party on occasion, scouting their path, but not by too much. A couple of seconds caught alone and unaware on the trail could find him dead, and then what good would he be? So, he was rarely away from the others for more than a couple of minutes, breaking the horizon at an easy gallop, or waiting at the crest of a hill for their arrival.

The waymeets were a welcome change from camping out under the stars for some, but Char preferred to find purchase up on the rooftop, with bow in hand and doing his best to blend in with the thatch. Wrapped in his new cloak and skin, he felt warm and in his element.

As the early gray of false dawn would peak above the mountainous horizon he would leave his perch to seek out replacement food for that they’d used in their stay, leaving the waymeet restocked, sometimes better than it was, before they’d departed. It was, after all, only polite.

It wasn’t until the fourth night that Char joined the others within the waymeet as the thunderstorm began to rage overhead. Slightly wet from the sudden downpour, the ranger shook his bearskin cloak out near the door and then snatched up a chair to settle near the window where he could still keep an eye on the landscape outside. Periodically throughout the night he would remove himself from the comfort of the shelter to check on their animals (OOC: Animal Lore to attempt to keep them calm). The strangeness of the thin sheets of rain wasn’t lost on the ranger. In his experience mountain rain was thick and heavy; not having enough time in its decent to dissipate as it did on the plains, and when accompanied by lightning and thunder, it was usually torrential. Yet, as the night drew on the thunder and lightning faded away until it was just the rain and a slight mist clinging to the ground as they prepared to ride the next day.

It was cold, bitter cold as a matter-of-fact, but Char was used to enduring the weather, and he took it in stride. Tugging his newly acquired protective clothing about him tighter, he made certain that his equipment was being tended to the best he could manage all things considered, and stopped near Dapple to check on the street urchin and their friendly pseudo dragon before they continued on their path.
 
Char had returned to the party from one of his off-trail excursions checking on a fleeting shadow he caught in the treeline and was hovering near Arien near the front of the group when he caught sight of the first of the refugees. His head instinctively tilted to the side, like a dog faced with a puzzling activity from a human, and his brow furrowed. Caught up in the rain, his usually free-flowing curtain of hair was clinging to his face and beard as though scared it might be blown away in the wind, and his bearskin cloak was matted and heavy, but these people looked downright miserable. He was about to raise the question as to who in the Nine Hells would be traveling in this weather, when the irony of the statement caught him and he held his tongue.

As was to be expected, Arien and Kilgim led the conversation when they drew near and the resulting tale was enough to set Char to watching the skies as well as the horizon even before it had finished. He was nearly surprised when Arien declared his indignation:

"My sincere apologies, ladies,” the knight snarled in obvious disgust. “At the worthlessness of these who would call themselves worshippers of Heironeous How such can live with themselves after allowing events like these, I do not know. You have my word that we will do all in our power to set things right."


"Char," Arien asked, "will it benefit us to leave the path, and travel cross country? Or will we lose more time than we already would in dealing with the refugess?"

The ranger peered out at the rough terrain where rivulets of water cut away at the countryside. His icy blue eyes had turned slate gray in the weather and they narrowed slightly against the onslaught of the rain, occasionally snapping closed as a droplet of rain got caught up in his lashes, or struck his higher cheekbone and splashed into his eye. After a moment’s time he shook his head slightly and turned to address his friend, his gloved hands sitting easily upon the saddlehorn.

“Na’, t’wood be too much on da ‘orses an’ mules wit’ da mud n’ su’.” He nodded at Arien’s armor as well. “An’ yer metal skin’d be a problem. Bes’ ya stay t’ da trail.”

Turning to the villagers he leaned slightly forward in his saddle so they could hear him better. “’Ow far t’ da village?” Receiving his answer the woodsman looked back over to his friends. “I cou’ go an’ scou’ I’ ou’ firs’. Mee’ ya back on da trail a mile ‘er so ou’si’ da village.”

It was a logical course of action. Char could get within view of the village with very little chance of someone noticing him should he leave Northwind with the rest of the part, and from a vantage allowing him to survey the situation he could provide them with valuable information pertaining to what they were likely to encounter. He knew Arien would see the tactical advantage to having the information in hand, and Adrian would likely as well, both having some military background. He doubted very much that the others would object, and Da’ Moon looked downright miserable so far from her precious cities that he wasn’t sure she’d want to go along. So, with a nod to the knight, Char dismounted, slipped his backpack onto his shoulders, and withdrew his bow from its place in his quiver, stringing it and then holding it beneath his cloak. During his preparation, Arien had continued his discourse:

"I would like for us to reach this evil as soon as possible... we should not suffer these poor people to be stricken any more than we can help. Even so, all know that darkness lends aid to such wickedness, and I would have all in our favor as is possible. What say you all?" The last is directed at the party in general.

Char had already made his position on the matter known, so he stood next to Northwind’s front left flank and watched the reactions of his companions while he remained ready to peel away from the others at a jog and head off into the wilderness. The plan would be to cut cross country some distance from the trail and come in on the village from a position that would put him uphill and far enough away to get a good look at the lay of the land and the whole of the village. He’d watch it for a time to make sure he had an understanding of what was going on within, and then he’d return to the others by cutting across country once more to reconnect with the trail a mile or so away from the village. He was already envisioning the terrain he’d have to traverse and taking deep, long breaths to expand his lungs in preparation for the run.

Maximus arrived at the stables the next morn to see most of his fellow adventures already there nodding to them in greeting he moved to accept the horse and potion from Dwan’s steward. Mounting he waited quietly for the signal to move out and was glad when it finally came. Without a word to the others he followed behind the new mage trying hard not to glare daggers into that ones back. The ex-Gladiators thoughts his own, as he rode within the group, this time he had no plans of making any lasting friends.

The first 3 days travel went by quickly, Maximus still quiet unless spoken too first, and the weather for all intents travelable. However the next two days were a total wash as the group was soaked from a continuous rainfall. It was the afternoon of that 5th day that they started to meet the first of the refugees.

Mostly women and children, a few older men, all coming from the south-east, the direction you taking. They have only meager possessions and their own wits left, upon sighting the party it was if a dam had opened as immediately they began to gather around asking for help, a tale whispered among them, told to Maximus and the rest.

The town of Hevlorn was attacked. Not by an army or a large grouping of humanoids, but by these two men whom appeared in the night. One was a tall, robust man with long red hair, fancy red armour and a halberd. He seems to command fire and lightning from his weapon and flew through the air. The other, was a beast like creature with dark skin and huge talons that could jump great distances and tear apart the people without effort.

The men in the town stood their ground so that the women and children could make an escape. They have been running ever since – the attack was last night. The people are mystified that the priests of the town did not come out to help them. There is a temple of Heironeous near the castle ruins where the priests pray to contain the spirit of evil within the ruins. The priests never even left their temple; they stayed indoors and hid while innocent people were killed.

Looking to Arien, once again leader of the group, he awaited quietly the knight’s orders, he did not have long to wait.

"Char," Arien asked, "will it benefit us to leave the path, and travel cross country? Or will we lose more time than we already would in dealing with the refuges?"

“Na’, t’wood be too much on da ‘orses an’ mules wit’ da mud n’ su’.” Char nodded at Arien’s armor as well. “An’ yer metal skin’d be a problem. Bes’ ya stay t’ da trail.”

Turning to the villagers the Ranger leaned slightly forward in his saddle so they could hear him better.
“’Ow far t’ da village?” Receiving his answer the woodsman looked back over to his friends. “I cou’ go an’ scou’ I’ ou’ firs’. Mee’ ya back on da trail a mile ‘er so ou’si’ da village.”

Arien: "I would like for us to reach this evil as soon as possible... we should not suffer these poor people to be stricken any more than we can help. Even so, all know that darkness lends aid to such wickedness, and I would have all in our favor as is possible. What say you all?"
The last he directed at the party in general.

Looking to the Knight Maximus nodded his head in acknowledgement ready to move out once more......

“You are correct Lord Dwan I should know better then to fall asleep, whatever the subject of discussion may be. To you and all gathered, but the mage and his bird, I apologize for doing just that and ask your forgiveness. Good luck to you, my friends on this mission.”

With his apology given and without another word said the big ex-gladiator turned and left the room.
Dapple watched the big man gather his wounded pride and leave, and she shook her head slowly within her hood before quietly slipping away herself. Padding through the quiet streets, taking the darkest path out of habit, she pondered the contradictions that the gladiator showed to the world. His bravery was never in question, yet he often showed a rashness that was at odds with surviving in a gladiatorial ring. Before becoming a crowd favourite, as his reputation would suggest, he would have faced the jeers and taunts of a fickle crowd, yet he reacted to today’s strange prank like, well…

A girl. A silly foolish girl, like someone we once knew, didn’t we, little monster? the dry voice coiled around Dapple’s cold heart and squeezed to remind her of old hurts. Still, he is not used to freedom, and he is exploring what that means. Freedom to take a job or not, freedom to make a wise decision, or a foolish one.
“None of us are free,” Dapple muttered to herself, sidestepping the sprawled body of a drunk. “You taught me that well enough.” She then set Maximus aside and checked the body for coin and other valuables, happily finding enough to pay for a supper.

For despite the spread at Dwan’s, Dapple was hungry, and another trip meant long days on short rations. She waged a constant battle with her frame, her cursed birthright making her slender and small when she needed to be strong, with a certain bulk to discourage and intimidate the bullies of the city’s dark underbelly. Climbing walls and walking rooftops needed strength so she worked out continuously, building muscle that would melt away without constant vigilance. This required food to fuel all this work, and protein to put muscle where it didn’t want to be.

Dapple spotted a tavern sign ahead and hastened her steps. Inside, she ordered a large dinner, digging in with a single-minded purpose that didn’t even really taste the food. The bar maid had looked at the “young boy’ dubiously when she’d ordered, but the proffered coin sweetened her mood. Watching the small fellow put away a substantial amount of food, and ask to buy whatever cured dry sausages they had (the spicier the better), she grinned and put both hands on her hips. “Boys is always hungry, what with all the growing they have to do. You must eat your folks outta house and home, eh?” she laughed, reaching out to ruffle the “lad’s” hair, before a glare from the boy changed her mind.

The next morning, Dapple met the others at Dwan’s stables, slipping out of the last bit of shade to take her share of the potions and the reins of her borrowed horse. She spent a little time re-distributing the dried meat, jerky and cured sausages from her backpack to the horse’s saddlebags, slipping a smallish link to Sunset to gnaw while waiting to leave. She greeted everyone with a perfunctory nod, noting Maximus’ presence without comment.

Free to change his mind, too…
The first few days of travel were almost peaceful for the little thief. Away from the intrigues and dangers of the city, but not yet facing the horrors that lay ahead, Dapple was free to simply be. No fear to push aside, no anger to bury before it could burn away her calm, she felt nothing within and it was….good. While the dead voice would never allow her to let down her guard completely, the nights in the Waymeet were not the agony of enforced closeness that they had been before, and Dapple even found herself chatting quietly with Kilgim one night, debating the various methods of gem grading.

Still, the nights, and then the days grew progressively colder, and once the rain started, Dapple started reconsidering this whole “countryside” nonsense. She was cold all the time, and even trudging alongside her horse to get her blood moving didn’t help. Her cloak clung to her uncomfortably and her blond curls melted in the rain, hanging dead straight on either side of her face, making her check continuously that her ears were covered. The dampness made her healing injuries ache again, and she was so pale with cold that the fading bruises on her face appeared livid once more. Sunset took to huddling inside Dapple’s clothing, as far from the wet and cold as possible, and the little thief took to poking the slumbering dragonet periodically to make sure she hadn’t smothered, earning the occasional nip for her trouble.

She was so miserable that she didn’t even protest when Char came to check on her and Sunset. She’d normally bristle at his perceived protectiveness of her, but the wet made the saddle bindings tricky to buckle, and she didn’t want to suffer the indignity of falling off her horse.

Meeting the refugees made Dapple realize she was feeling sorry for herself. She had a horse, warm, if somewhat damp clothing and plenty of food. These people had nothing, and were terrified, as well. Arien was clearly outraged at the plight of the villagers and solicited the opinions of the party about proceeding straight on, or cutting across the countryside, and she hid a sigh of relief when Char veto’d the cross country route, Freeing Kilgim and his pony from the bramble and mud of off trail riding would not have been fun.

Still, Char suggested scouting ahead, and Dapple perked up. A chance to get off a horse and walk through streets again, albeit muddy village streets, was appealing, if only to get her blood moving again. When Char signalled his readiness, Dapple followed, cloak wrapped close and daggers loosened in their sheathes.

Dapple and Char quickly stripped themselves of everything that wasn’t essential and took to the path. They would ride for couple of hours to get themselves close, and then move out on foot to scout out the town. They saw the smoke rising long before they reached the village, and soon the stench of burnt flesh, wood and carrion reached their noses.

It was not yet dusk when they arrived, but the town was in the shadow of the mountain, creating an artificial evening over the village. Dapple and Char could see that the Hevlorn was at the foot of the mountain, the temple was up near the mid point the peak and the ruins of the castle were high above. Sure enough, the town was completely destroyed. Buildings shattered and burnt from within while bodies of the dead were strewed everywhere, many in pieces. It didn’t take long to find the two beings responsible, as one floated in midair next to the other resting on the remains of the tallest chimney in the town. The one who could fly was a big man, dressed in flowing white robes over banded armour. He held an oversized halberd in his right hand that crackle occasionally with electrical energy. He looked like a comely human male, with long white hair and very fair skin. Both his robes and cloak flowed and whipped around as if caught in a wind, but there was no wind moving through the valley at this time.

The other being was very ugly. He resembles a massive human in body, with gigantic bulging muscles at least three times larger than Maximus. His face was long and extended, so that his nose and mouth were almost beak like. It was bald, except for a few long black hairs on its scalp that it grew long and attempted to weave over its head to create an illusion of a full set of hair. The armour he wore as a grey scale, immensely thick and tightly held together. He bore no weapon but the claws in his hands were so large that the two companions could see them from a distance. They were speaking to each other loudly, so that even from the edge of the clearing, Dapple and Char could hear them clearly.

“Come my brother!” the ugly one said in a voice like gravel churning, “Let us not tarry here any longer. There were women in this town that escaped. Let us seek them out so I can charm and seduce them with my manly good looks and sensuous long hair.”

“No Brother.” The white one replied. As he spoke, he paused dramatically and gestured with the halberd flamboyantly, “We must…remain here…for our master…has charged us…with guarding…this entrance. He will be…mightily vexed…if we…leave our…posts.”

“Surely our master would not deny me a chance to soothe the spirits of the lady folk! They do not know what they will be missing.”

“Yes…My brother…Surely it is…a tragic tale…but…we must…remain…here.”

“I bore of duty and orders. I need adventure, danger and beautiful women to woo.”

“Please brother…without your…strength...to…guide me…and keep…my back…safe, …I will…surely perish.”

OOC: Just need to hear from Char and Dapple. Moving in closer? Attacking? Going back to meet party?

The trek had been a slippery mess of wet leaves, gushy mud, and treacherous loose rocks, but the two scouts eventually found their perch near enough the town to hear what was said between the strange “brothers” and to practically smell the carnage.

Char sat quietly covered in his cloak and bearskin, peering at the murderers with his icy blue eyes and trying to memorize the lay of the land. After a brief time, sure that they had all of the information they’d need, and positive that neither of them wanted to take these two on alone, Char indicated that they should return the way they’d come. Picking their way out of visual and audio range very carefully so as to avoid any chance of catching the “brother’s” attention, they soon found themselves working cross country to catch up with the remainder of the party.

“It be as da villagers say,” Char intoned as he approached Arien and the others. Shaking a hand through his wet hair the ranger looked back over his shoulder. “Two o’ dem. One big an’ ugly, de udder all celesteeal an’ da like ‘overin’ o’er da village…” the woodsman looked back at the others. “E’ry one o’ dem dat was in da village look t’ be dead, an’ da keep still appears t’ be locked up ti’.”

Char continues to describe the lay of the land and what pieces of the enemy’s conversation he’d overheard, as well as the position of the enemy, and then, when finished, moves to take Northwind’s reins once more while waiting for ideas to be generated. He’d been trained in his trade by being a scout for military groups. He knew exactly what to look for and what to report on to be most effective. Now, it was up to the tactical minds to determine the plan of attack. He, for one, was not looking forward to the pending confrontation for there was definitely magic afoot, and powerful beings to boot.

The report back from Char and Dapple was not filled with hope. Two creatures of some sort of demonic power, a mysterious master, silent priests, and a dead town that you were suppose to investigate. Furthermore, the destruction was so great as to leave very little cover for a stealthy attack. No matter how you would approach the scene of this misfortune, the beings could spot you from their vantage point.

There was no time for hesitation or doubt though. In the name of all that was good and those poor people, you had to take on these being. If there were survivors, they would be in dire need of aid.

OOC: Time for heroics people! Saddle up! Peasants to rescue, mysteries to investigate, demons to kill. Woohoo!

The trip to and from the town were accomplished in silence, in order to avoid attracting the attention of the two entities standing guard in town. Riding the horses partway was easy enough, but when Char signaled to continue on foot, Dapple wasn’t quite prepared for the speed the ranger expected. Dapple could move fast, but in the confines of a city street, it was typically in short bursts. Here, Char set a pace in a ground eating pace that had Dapple struggling to keep up. Stubbornly, she persisted, and realized that while her legs and lungs burned with the effort, she was nearly as quiet as when she was moving at half the speed.

More of your monstrous birthright. Good to know, now focus on running.
Dapple smiled grimly to herself that the dead voice sounded as out of breath as she felt, shaking her head when the ranger threw her a questioning look. At the periphery of the town, Dapple crouched behind a shattered wall, her mottled clothing a form of camouflage, and took in as much as she could while getting her breathing back under control. These two creatures called themselves brothers, but they could not be more different in appearance. The ugly one looked to be a brawler type, but Dapple wouldn’t discount his having other attacks available, but the other looked like he wouldn’t get his hands dirty in a physical fight. Dapple pondered the options (coming up with very little) until Char touched her cloak lightly to signal their withdrawal.

Once back with the others, Dapple let Char do the talking, adding minor details here and there. She then wrapped herself in silence, listening to the others debate a course of action. Her role here would be minor; as always before a larger battle, she wondered what she was even doing in this situation.

Adrian listened intently to the report. It seemed they were dealing with a mage of some sort, and his muscle. Although they both seemed intelligent so this might prove to be a bit more difficult than it seems.

No doubt they would be fighting, but how much time did they have?

"Comrades, I must confess I have learned some new tricks since our last outing together. I might be able to distract the hovering one, but I cannot promise to keep him grounded. If it's simple magic that's keeping him up, I can possibly bring him down, but something tells me these guys are smarter than that.

So do we want a distraction? A charge? Divide and conquer?

The call is yours. I can find a spell to fit our plan."

Valentine looked about to the others, especially waiting to hear what Matthias has in mind.

(OOC: Post again later with more info)

As Arien rode through the throng of fleeing survivors, his blood slowly began to boil. Why was it that those with power felt the need to use it to hurt those without? Why did their pursuits require them to injure innocents?

Even though he was not personally responsible, the knight still felt shame at the lack of action on the part of the priests of Heironeus. How could they claim to be a follower of the god's just path, yet sit idly by while such evil was done to the defenseless? Even were they too cowardly - or too weak - to intercede directly, could they not have done something? At the very least, gone for help?

When Char and Dapple returned with a tale of sadistic destruction and inhuman monsters, Arien felt his blood boil even hotter. "This smacks of a trap," he stated. "Surely these creatures know that those of pure heart will not sit idly by and let them inflict such damage on the innocent. I would guess that they know we will come, and have picked their place to make a stand against us."

The heir to House Thedell reigned his warhorse and spoke further. "It is clear that we must take the fight to them, but let us do what we can to minimize their advantages. We should approach them from different angles so as to give ourselves the best chance. If our mages can bring the flyer down, so much the better - that is an edge that we clearly do not want him to have."

Arien scratched his chin. "While we are at range, let us hit them with everything we have - magical and martial. Once we close to melee, we'll have to be more careful."

The knight looked to his friends. "Is there anything I have missed? A better approach?" All knew that Arien would of course be charging directly into the fray - the only real question was the tactics that the rest would use.

Char had used rocks, reeds of long mountain grass, and twigs to best create a map of the village and pin point the positions of their enemies, and as the others discussed their strategies he stood next to Northwind's long face and studied the rough layout with a frown and creased brow. There wasn't any cover to provide them with a clean approach, no matter the direction the party entered the warzone from. They were going to be open to whatever attacks these creatures had in store for them the whole of their approach, and knowing Arien and Maximus, at least those two would be rushing directly into battle hoping that the rest will be able to distract the enemy long enough for them to engage in melée at which time Char knew that he'd have to break off his ranged attack and join them.

The crushing effects of the green armed Imperial was still fresh on his mind, and the fact that these "brothers" had argued over waiting for the arrival of another Char could only assume was their superior didn't sit well with him. These two likely did have some supernatural powers they'd have to contend with. Probably at least in the same vein as the green arm fellow had demonstrated. There was nothing yet linking the two instances, but the ranger's gut told him that there was a distinct possibility they'd be finding some in the future--it was all too circumstantial.

"Aye," Char looked up as Arien finished suggesting his strategy and asked if he was leaving anything out. "Dey be waitin' on de arri'al o' some bein' so we bes' be makin' shor' work o' dis pair 'fore der frien' show up.

"Also, if'n we can take a prisoner I tink we be be'er off in de long run. Ya 'mem'er what dat green arm'd fella did t' us Arien? Dees fellas stri' me as de kin'a folks dat be able t' do da same, so be careful. All o' yous be careful."

Swinging himself int the saddle, Char settled his quiver so that it was more comfortably positioned and reachable. "I say we go to da ben' jus' 'fore da village an' den approach on foo' from de diffe'n angles."

Maximus looking to Arien, once again leader of the group listened quietly as the Knight outlined his plan of action.

"It is clear that we must take the fight to them, but let us do what we can to minimize their advantages. We should approach them from different angles so as to give ourselves the best chance. If our mages can bring the flyer down, so much the better - that is an edge that we clearly do not want him to have. While we are at range, let us hit them with everything we have - magical and martial. Once we close to melee, we'll have to be more careful. Is there anything I have missed? A better approach?"
Maximus could tell by the tone of Arien’s voice that as normal he would be charging straight in and knew his place was at the Knights side. Having only his throwing knives as missile weapons his only option like that of Arien was to close into melee quickly.

Spurring his horse closer to Arien’s he made it clear without words that he would follow the Knight in charging the two enemies before them.