More tales for Garret Maevers

[Trevor Owen]

Please good adventurers, share the wonders of your recent trials with the people of this town. The peasants are dying for a good tale to keep them through the winter.

-Peasant Bob Butcher

[Dallid]

You have inspired me to keep a journal, as I, too, am fond of lore and recognize the importance of recorded history. I will share it, though I doubt the villagers will find it very amusing - it was not written for the purpose of entertainment.


It no longer confines itself to my dreams, but has become a nearly continuous feeling of dread – of finality. Again and again I see Master Hannan, the head of my Order while I trained at the Citadel, slain near a road. A brief moment of torn flesh, spilt blood, and fading life. A sense of doom increases, approaches. My every instinct screams for me to find him, to save him, before time runs out.

But while I am skilled with the Magics of the Circle, I am no sage or Valkin’Vi. I am not one for visions. So how am I seeing this potential fate for Master Hannan, or perhaps even seeing what has all ready transpired?

For this one image to assail me again and again, whether asleep or awake, specific magic must be directed at me. This indicates a sentient (though not necessarily conscious) mind with a set objective. But is that objective to help or to hinder?

Thus far, the image has done nothing but disturb my thoughts and lessen my sleep. The only action brought to mind is that of a likely fruitless search – to seek out Master Hannan, discover his fate, and prevent the image from coming to pass, if possible.

But what would such a quest accomplish? I do not know where Master Hannan is – my search could last a great while and would in all likelihood be for naught. Meanwhile, I would be alone and vulnerable while Haven would have one less Healer to aid the town’s defenders.

I see only ill results should I act on the image’s compulsions. Thus I choose to ignore it. Should Master Hannan be fated to die, then so be it. That is the nature of the Circle.

Meanwhile, the time anomalies continue with devastating effects. A nightly ritual of death and violence has plagued us for the last several months. Shortly after sundown, the smoke and lights return, out from the obscured depths pour beasts and creatures of every description, soldiers from all lands and times, and even the undead. Every night the warriors of Haven sally forth to defend the town, and every night we destroy that which seeks our destruction. Each time the wounded are tended, armor is repaired, and we all steel ourselves to face the next attack.

However, Friday night was different for several reasons.

First was the arrival of new and badly needed allies. Soldiers of the Order of the Phoenix, searching for a separated leader, found our Haven. The strange memory loss afflicting most new arrivals also had a hold of these men. Though they could recall little of their past, they quickly recognized our new Constable, Donavan, as their lost leader. The reunion consisted of a flurry of questions and explanations, as together they reforged a little more of their collective memory. Still, they could not relate much of the nature of their Order, other then they were protectors.

When the smoke and light returned once more for our nightly battle, the Phoenix warriors lent their strength to our fight without hesitation. Together, the forces of Haven triumphed quickly and easily over the legions of Broken Time.

But a far worse danger was soon to arrive.

As usual, I walked through the village after the battle, checking if any peasants suffered from the attack. Fortunately, no Time creatures had broken through to the village, and all were safe. However, as I finished my patrol, the din of battle could once more be heard from the vicinity of the Inn.

I hurried back. At the edge of the wood I found two humans watching Haven defending itself against powerful flesh golems. Both were well dressed, and I recognized neither, however the battle called for my attention so I was unable to question them. I powered my mace with the energies of life and joined the fray.

I did not fight long.

These golems were much stronger and more resilient than any we had faced before. In moments, Haven’s defenders began to fall back, many grievously wounded, some having to be carried from the field. We retreated into the Inn where we held the entryways and tended our wounds. From time to time new sorties would venture forth, do what damage to the foe they could, and fall back once more. Only the Tsunotaur, Ka, managed to stay outside for extended periods, fighting the constructs. But even the mighty Ka fell twice before them, requiring swift medical aid.

While the constructs assailed the Inn and defenders attacked and retreated, the two mysterious strangers I had encountered at the start of the fight entered the Inn. They claimed they could cast a ward to destroy or repel the golems. Given our desperate situation, their aid was readily accepted.

Their ritual took a long time, but when finally completed, the results were hideous. The floor of the Inn cracked open. A skeleton clawed its way out, sinew and muscle rapidly enveloping it. By the time it had pulled itself completely from the chasm and stood tall, it was a fully restored human. It and its summoners then stepped out of the Inn and commanded the golems to follow. Obediently, the horrors did as they were told, and together the foul group made their way from Haven.

We had been duped. The golem attack distracted us – prevented us from questioning the mages or taking too close a look at the evil nature of the ritual. The mages and the golems now had their true master back.

Azaria, Gideon, and I tracked after them. Clearly one who commanded such monstrosities had to be a monster himself, and had to be stopped. We followed them to an open field, where the newly resurrected man cast magics to part the very ground. He and his minions descended into the earth, and the ground sealed in behind them.

Azaria chose to stay and watch through the night, while Gideon and I returned to report our findings.

When we arrived back at Haven, we learned some of our fellow adventurers had discovered the newly raised entity was called “Florin”, and was likely a powerful Necromancer. Thus our foes continue to multiply. We all agreed to attack his lair on the morrow, if possible.

The next morning, we decided to seek help against Florren. Supposedly, the Cult of IO had been warring with the Cult of Florren for years, and might provide us with information and aid. I joined a small group that set out to contact them.

What we found was a slaughter. The entire Cult lay dead at their camp, most having been slain where they sat, throats slashed. The cultists had been dead for many days, and pieces were missing from the bodies. Perhaps we saw those pieces last night on the evil constructs. I performed the rites of my Order over each of the corpses, then we placed them in a shallow grave. As the rest of us prepared to depart, Grok performed her “Orc Ritual” to extract information from the dead. She learned the Cult of IO had indeed been completely destroyed, and the Cult of Floren did not perform this attack.

Most likely Pentaguishine, then. His group had consisted of four assassins, and it was not likely coincidence that four Cultists had been taken unaware, leaving only two to fight.

We returned to Haven with our grim news. A new sage in town known as Ashe seemed particularly interested in this news. She would not say why, and no amount of questioning could draw even the slightest scrap of information from her. She managed to sidestep my questions without actually dodging them – proving as elusive as any Valkin’VI. I know nothing of this recent arrival to Haven, and found myself growing suspicious of her. How many spies might our enemies have?

The adventurers of Haven were busily planning the course of action for the day, determining our strategy against our numerous foes. Of top priority was the fixing of Time, but we had also learned of a powerful evil Druid in the area – a new threat to be dealt with. There was also the matter of our attack on Floren’s lair.

As we wanted Time fixed permanently, we resolved to create a potion of shatter-resistance to coat our newly forged Sundial. To make this potion, we needed several rare herbs. Fortunately, Dark Elves in the area told us of an underground chamber where such herbs were stored.

The Druid was sending men-turned-to-beasts against us. We would backtrack one of these beasts, hoping his trail would lead us to the Druid.

Azaria returned to us from her vigil at Florren’s lair. She had tried to gain access, but could not. Only Floren knew how to open the ground and pass to and from his lair. She had heard rumblings from under the earth. Florren was up to something, but there was nothing we could do until he emerged.

Throughout our planning, an old man named Joseph kept close, listening to our every word. I grew suspicious, but could not convince him to leave. His persistence only re-enforced my belief that he spied for one of our foes. Others felt similarly uncomfortable about his presence, but none chose to remove him.

In addition to listening to our strategies and asking questions about the Sundial, Joseph’s fingers also busied themselves – searching through parchments and examining varied objects. Eventually he opened a box trapped against thieves. Poisonous fumes immediately filled the room. Most of the Guildmembers had been magically fortified against such attacks, but I had refused the charm as it restricted my control of Circle energies. Thus Joseph and I took the full effect of the trap.

I felt the poison seep through my skin and spread through my body, and instantly reacted by fortifying my constitution, slowing my metabolism, and using the very energies of Life to trap and slow the poison’s insidious progress. Thus, while Joseph succumbed instantly, I remained conscious and able to act – at least for a few more minutes.

Using the Medical Clamp, I stabilized Joseph as I worked to excise the poison. But the invader was both strong and tenacious requiring significant time and effort to defeat. By the time I had eliminated it from Joseph’s system, he was in very bad shape and I had little strength remaining.

Joseph would die without immediate aid, however, so I had no time to tend to my own condition. I believed I could hold onto consciousness just long enough to save him, and I had other tools that would give me a fighting chance of survival, as well. As I began repairing Joseph’s damaged essence, I asked my fellow Guildmembers to treat me with healing potions.

They did better. An empath began transferring the life of my colleagues into me at a rate greater then the poison could destroy it. With this help, I was able to stabilize Joseph, purge myself of the poison, and fix the damage done.

Alas, this experience did not deter Joseph from his spying. He continued to explore the Guild and listen to our words until the meeting was done. Then, as we all gathered down by the Inn in preparation to retrieve the herbs necessary for the shatterproof potion, Joseph traveled a separate way and vanished.

Most of Haven’s adventurers chose to aid in securing the herbs, and a guide, presumably provided by the Dark Elves, led us toward the cave where the herbs were stored.

We encountered a number of bestial enemies along the way, some riding giant, shaggy war-elephants. These were particularly threatening, as they would charge through our ranks, goring and trampling all in their way. As I aided a spearman against one beastman, I heard a rumbling behind me and found myself face to face with a hairy, tusked monstrosity. It plowed over me, goring me repeatedly, and I knew no more.

The first thing I felt, as I lay there, was the sensation of returning life. Not a strengthening, not a reforging of essence, but a returning of what was lost. Someone was pulling me back from the brink of death.

No.

Not quite. I felt more like this healer was fighting Death away from me.

I opened my eyes to see Grok squatting by my side, working to restore me. Her technique was crude and uncontrolled, but undeniably effective. I had never thought healing could be aggressive, but, then again, I had never been treated by an Orc.

By the time I was back on my feet, the battle was over. Our group continued on to the cave.

The entry tunnel was enormous. As we made our way along it, we noticed blotches of black slime clinging to the walls and ceiling. The ones we passed gradually slid down to the floor and closed off our exit. While some in our party continued on to secure the herbs, the rest of us turned to clear a path. The ooze fought back, but fortunately our weapons could hurt them. We made good progress until one mound of black goo reared up and completely enveloped Vux. We battled to free him, striking repeatedly at the covering substance. At last the slime collapsed, melting away to nothing, leaving a weakened but still living Orc behind.

By this time the herbs had been secured, and we fled from the tunnel. On our way back, the giant fighting beasts we had defeated were butchered – their meat carried back to bolster the town stores.

Evening was approaching, and most of us used the next several hours to rest, recover, and eat while the Shatter Resistant potion brewed. Once properly fed, I joined a party headed out to track down the evil Druid.

We traveled through the darkened forest for awhile, until the trail of the minion we were tracking ended. Our scouts searched the area for several moments before a soft patch of earth was discovered. Each of us then jumped through the giving ground to arrive in a cave furnished as living quarters. The cavern was provisioned to provide for a number of people, though no one was currently present. The occupants appeared to have recently fled in haste. With the Druid having escaped us, we climbed back up to the surface.

We emerged to a clicking noise filling the surrounding forest. Giant beetles emerged from the brush and attacked. They were no match for our warriors, however, and soon faded back into the wilderness. Realizing the Druid may have orchestrated this attack, I tracked after them. The beetles were moving faster than we were, and their clicking sounds faded into the distance. After awhile, we turned back to return to the village. The final quest to repair time was approaching.

We arrived to discover Joseph had returned to town, demanding we give him the Sundial. When the townsfolk refused, Joseph flew into a rage – casting destructive bolts of awesome power. Several of our best warriors were nearly killed before the defenders retreated, and Joseph stalked off into the woods.

Given Joseph’s power display and his interest in the Sundial, we knew we had to transport it in secret. A small party would carry it to a place near where the quest would begin and hide there. Once everyone was assembled and ready to head out, the party would reveal themselves and join the larger group. Azaria, adept at woodland concealment, was chosen to lead the Sundial party. Ka, a Phoenix member, and myself went along to provide protection. We took the Sundial to a treeline not far from the village firepit. There we lay low and hid, waiting for the main expedition to ready themselves.

We remained undisturbed until all was ready. Given Joseph’s strength and the importance of this quest, every adventurer in Haven had assembled to see it through. When they began to set off, our small party revealed itself, and together we made our way into the woods – toward the large, shattered sundial.

We had not gone far before attackers leapt from the surrounding woods. I never saw exactly what we fought, for our warriors dealt with them swiftly and effectively. Perhaps they were nothing more than a distraction, for as the fighting drew attention outward, the true threat rose up from within.

Eli suddenly clutched his head and screamed with agony and effort as he attempted to ward off the presence trying to assert control over him. But the enemy mind was too strong, and with eyes gleaming with tortured madness, Eli lunged for the Sundial.

Several warriors fell upon him swiftly, and subdued him without inflicting significant harm. They then proceeded to search his unconscious body for anything that may have enabled his mind to be taken. Arthos found the Master’s Ring, and was immediately bound by it. He rose up and yanked the Sundial from those who carried it, plunging into the woods with his stolen prize. Again, our alert warriors caught and subdued the unwilling minion of the Master.

Corbin, with much caution, then removed the ring from Arthos using only the tip of his sword. But even this indirect contact seemed enough for the Master to grab hold of Corbin’s mind, for moments later he, too, took the sundial from its bearers and ran from the expedition. Once more our warriors gave chase, and eventually caught him. After a careful search, the Master’s Ring was found somehow in his pouch. Rather than risking any contact at all with the ring, his pouch was cut from his belt and left behind. The Master was able to take no others.

Meanwhile, the attacks against us had increased in ferocity. While the bulk of our party fought them off, the Sundial bearers and a few defenders forged ahead, leaving the combat behind. I ran to catch up with the small Sundial group.

The strategy worked, as our enemies focused on the commotion far behind us. We managed to get our prize to the old shattered Sundial without further conflict. There, we set our artifact down, and the mysterious Ashe set to deciphering the ritual to fix time with fevered determination. If she was indeed an enemy, we would certainly find out soon enough.

We had not been there long before our enemies found us. Things ran at us from all directions, and our few defenders were hard pressed to keep Ashe undisturbed as she worked the Sundial. But our enemies multiplied, and the situation quickly became unattainable. I rushed from one fallen defender to another – struggling against time to keep everyone alive. In desperation, we called for help.

The call was immediately answered as Atrim crashed through the brush, followed by all the other warriors of our expedition. Significantly re-enforced, we formed an unbreakable circle around the shattered Sundial, successfully holding our foes at bay. We were winning.

Then the Master, Joseph, appeared among us. With an evil laugh he hurled his death-bolts in every direction, tearing our defenses apart. A Phoenix warrior fell near me, most of his body reduced to ash. I quickly knelt beside him, and found life still there – held by a spirit that would not give up. Still, he had but seconds left, and his wounds were clearly beyond even my most desperate efforts. Quickly I used every healing potion remaining in my pouch, significantly lessening the warriors injuries, then set loose the magics of the Circle in dangerous concentrations. Life within the warrior strengthened as physical damaged mended and flesh regrew. At last, as the Circle magic threatened to overwhelm mortal life and the risk of essence implosion became significant, I stopped.

The warrior was still dying. I yelled for a healing potion – one would do – and fortunately one was thrust toward me from the darkness and chaos of battle. I applied the salve to his lips, and detected the man’s vitals had stabilized. His condition was still critical, but, if left alone, he would survive until further treatment could be given. I stood to search for other wounded.

To my amazement, the battle – our very surroundings – had changed. While I was lost in the flow and manipulation of Life, Ashe had completed her work. The Sundial had transported us to the past – to when the Warlord’s troops marched against Father Time, himself. The Master and his minions were left in the present - what our warriors now fought were the Warlord’s men.

Though we were no longer threatened by the Master’s power, we were still hard pressed by the sheer weight of numbers arrayed against us. More of our fighters continued to fall, and our healers sought to keep them alive. Time and again I yelled for more healing potions to re-enforce my healing abilities, and eventually both Eli and Ashe granted me all they had. So armed, I successfully performed many operations – including bringing Arthos back from the dead. Eventually we triumphed, and a grateful Father Time returned us to the present.

Wary and worn, we trudged back through the woods to Haven. But on our way back, the din of battle once more erupted behind us and someone cried out “Vampire!”

I immediately assumed it was the very creature that laid me low all those months ago. Adrenaline surged through me at the thought of a rematch. I was stronger now, resistant to his sleep spells and better prepared. I focused the power of life through me, concentrating it into my hand. I strode forward with this glowing bane of the Undead, resolved that this time I would not miss.

I reached the back of the expedition and stood to the side of the rear-guard desperately trying to hold it back. In the last instant it saw me, and focused foul magics of its own. Our spells cast simultaneously, bolts of magic streaking passed each other to explode against respective targets. The Vampire stumbled under the concentrated onslaught of Life itself, while I was overcome with unnatural terror and fled.

I stumbled away in blind fear for several crucial seconds before fighting off the effects of the spell. As I regained self-control, I heard our warriors still fighting against the Vampire. It had survived my first attempt to banish it, as I figured it possessed the power to do, but now it ought to be significantly weakened. I charged another bolt and moved toward the fighting.

Again the Vampire saw me arrive on the scene. Again it matched me spell for spell. Again we both struck true. Again he retained his grip on this world, barely, while I fled in panic.

When I was once more able to gather my wits, I immediately began drawing power to my hand. This fight would continue until the Vampire either fled or was destroyed. With the spell ready, I advanced again into combat.

The battle of wills repeated for a third time – I blasted the Vampire between the eyes while receiving a blow of fear to the stomach. But this time, the Vampire ceased to exist in a flash of light and a cloud of dust. The fear spell, now lacking a source, could no longer affect me.

However, instead of a sense of victory, I experienced a feeling of dread. The Vampire I had faced before wielded the power of sleep, and teleported in and out of combat at will. This one merely stood his ground, cast less powerful fear spells, and fought uselessly to the death. He could only have been an expendable minion of the greater Vampire… and yet still required three banishment spells along with numerous blows by magical weapons to defeat! What, then, would be necessary to overwhelm the Master Vampire?

As we reached the village and emerged from the trees, the combination of untreated wounds and exhaustion overcame Atrim, who collapsed. I quickly knelt by his side to check the extent of his injuries. Though severe, none were life threatening. As he was in no real danger, I decided to try an experiment.

Grok had treated me by forcing my lost life energy back into me. I sought to do the same with Atrim. I focused my concentration, seeking out Atrim’s “signature” in the ether. I found his missing essence, zeroed in on it, and attempted to retrieve it. Something resisted me, and I began to fight.

Then I saw the nature of what I fought. There was no nefarious entity drinking in the life of the world like nectar. What I pitted myself against was, for lack of a better word, the Circle, itself! It had absorbed Atrim’s lost energy, and I was attempting to rip it from the Circle’s very fabric!

Horrified, I ceased my struggles and returned my attention to the Life remaining in Atrim. Applying the tried-and-true methods of the Order, I strengthened what was there and manipulated magic to forge more when necessary, and healed Atrim in the standard fashion. Grok’s method may work, but was certainly not for me.

For the first time in months, the village slept soundly. No ethereal smoke, no unnatural lights, no ravaging beasts from the future or past. Time was restored.

[Atrum Draconus]

I arrived in Haven just before sundown and decided to walk quickly through the village to make sure that things were alright. Speaking to a few of the village members I quickly surmised that the attacks that were occurring before I left were still occurring nightly. With a few assuring words to Bob Barleyman and a few of my students I quickly made my way to the Hall.

It seems awfully empty these days, Rashon and Simon haven't visited in some time. To my surprise it was completely void of anyone. This concerned me but a quick check revealed that all seemed in order, except that Azara things were no longer there. But Garion had never kept his things in the Hall and in tuth I had alway thought it strange that Azara did, no matter a conversation with her would clear it up.

I set to making a few potions since my supply had been thoroughly depleted over the past week or so. There has barely been time to brew any ale and no time to brew any other indulgences, truly a pity but hopefully soon things will ease.

As I was preparing the brew kettle I heard the sound of the door pit being disengaged, I put hand to hilt of my small weapon and prepared to defend the Hall. The door creaked open and Leeland came in, loosing the grip on my weapon and leaving that place that I go when.... there is a job to be done, I clasped his hand and we had a short conversation on the happenings of late. He informed me that there would be no more information from the captive murderer and I took myself back to that place and did what had to be done. This time it was a little different, normally within that place there is nothing but my surroundings, emotion and everything associated with it slides from me slowly until it seems to be at the edge of my vision, just out of reach and I am left numb and void. This time... this time one emotion would not slide away, anger remained refusing to succumb to my will, and taunting me as I performed my duty. The look on Nimlear's face as steel slid in between his ribs only heightened the anger, and then the source of the anger was revealed to me as 3 faces floated through the void that I tried to cloak myself in. The faces belonged to the others of this pathetic murderers group, Dimack Pentaguishine and Conner, 2 of which are on the loose and one is captive, although held by the Guild of Light.

Shaking away the images and the void I returned to my normal state and only the anger remained.

Soon after I grabbed up Dark Claw and Leeland and I exited the Hall to find some of the guild of light exiting their Hall with Azara, a conversation would definitely be in order but that could come later. Hurrying down to the Inn to give Ovak a few days supply of Black Claw I found no Ovak and the plaque on the wall removed, Hopefully it was just stolen but no matter. There were a few people there Donovan, and a few people that I did not recognize who later I came to know as Donovan's men of the Order of the Phoenix. Hopefully they have the resiliency of a Phoenix because here in Haven they will need it.

There was talk of going to fix the sundial, I was reticent to leave the town unprotected but Leeland was going to stay and he can handle himself or at least get some help if it was needed. I eased into the rank of townsmembers leaving for the sundial, much too easily, one of the newcomers looked like he was going to question my arrival but kept silent. No wonder we have such trouble defending our town, we are lax in our security and our organization.

Nothing proved this point to me more than the trip we made, on the road we were attacked by numerous things and each time it was handled horribly. We split into many small groups instead of staying together, our skills were not used to their best advantage, and we nearly lost most of our group. Once there was a decent break in the fighting I asked of the dial and was told that it was taken on by Ka and Ashe and a few others. I turned to run to catch up and looked over my shoulder as I ran... noone even looked to be making an effort to catch the others to help defend them.

I reached the now familiar crossroads, well it was probably a crossroads at one time now it is a spot where 2 semi trails in the woods intersect. I stood very still listening for movement... there off to the left and just a little forward I hurried to where I had heard the snapping of wood and faint almost ethereal voices, luckily it was night and most of the forest's animals were slumbering. I came upon a the townspeople just in time to fend off an attack, knowing that others may not find this place once they reached the crossroads I returned with much haste just in time to meet Kathryn and others there, I asked if everyone else was with them and was told yes, I informed them that the dial and those that protected it were in grave danger and turned to find my way back to the dial. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the same lethargy as before even though now steel on steel rang through the forest like a bell tolling death. I returnrd to the area of the dial just in time to see everyone beiong overwhelmed and as I entered the fray I used my skills as best possible but there were many. I rounded a tree near the dial and nearly stepped on Ashe, laying motionless on the ground. The last thing Leeland told me before I left was to keep his cousin safe, I yelled for a healer and Dallid soon stood over us. I left her in his most capable hands and turned to make sure that he was not disturbed in his work.

The figting wore on until at last something happened and we were no longer in the glade that we had been in. Not far from us was the Warlord and a small army it seemed. I fought with a man that wielded the scimitar that plagued us moons ago, he was felled and another picked it up and fought on. He fell too and I did not have time to move the weapon out of the way. During these two battles my supply of healing potions was completely exhausted but luckily they would not be needed. After the battle I went to where I knew the sword layed and found 2 of the new people standing over it. After warning them not to touch it I used my weapon to move it to a safe place and stood over it. It... It seemed to be speaking to me...telling me it was ok... ok to pick it up... that in my hands we would both come to prominensce, or it could have just been my imagination, I was very wounded and had not been attended to yet. Hopefully that is what caused the voices. Once we returned to our own time the sword no longer lay there.

As we struck out I realized that I knew I was in need of healing but wanted to get back to town before causing anymore delays, the forests have not been safe for some time and our travel to this glade had been harried. As we trudged along we were attacked by the man called Joseph that had assailed us and cut me down with one swipe on the way out. I chose to let the warriors and the mages habdle this threat as if i were to take a strike from that weapon in my current state I would surely not wake to Dallid over me this time. Joseph was apparently defeated and we continued on to town. As we approached town I had slid into that void at some point and was completely oblivious to most everything around me, only half feeling the ground smack me in the face. Apparently being laid low many times has had some affect on me, now when I fall in battle I keep my wits about me, I could feel Ashe's touch, barely within the void and hear her's and a few others words as Dallid worked on me. It felt different somehow, more like what Leeland does when he heals, but not exactly like that either, but as long as it worked I cared not.

Later that night Donovan and his men, Ashe, Roland and Corbin and I ventured out to a place that Ashe wished to visit, a Cult of IO, where all the inhabitants had been slain, it was our hope that our efforts in the past while fixing time may have saved their lives, it was not to be and I was for exuming the bodies and burning them until Ashe said that Dallid had overseen the burial, the last thing this world needs is more undead horrors walking it. Our return trip was much less eventful and we returned to the fire to drink more and discuss the evenings events.

Maybe it was the drink I offered or the energy of battle but Roland and some of the Phoenix members began an impromptu archery contest, Roland with his bow was much more accurate than the crossbows that the Phoenix members wielded. Soon they began shooting at each other and Leeland and I knew it was time for us to depart, Roland joined us and we headed back to Hall for the night.

Hopefully we can learn lessons from each of our encounters and handle such things more efficiently in the future.

[Trevor Owen]

Your words will echo long from now in the transcripts of our library. Please, encourage others to contribute their perspectives to this growing archive of adventure.

- Jarvis Faell,
Scribe to Garrett Maevers

[Grok]

*A portly female orc with wild hair and an odd leather mask looks at Jarvis a bit suspiciously, clears her throat and asks in her gruff voice...*

"You gonna feed us if we tell de stories? Dat last guy give us food..."

[Garet Maevers]

*A man in a threadbare blue traveling jerkin and stained brown pants enters the inn. He wears no visible weapon and attached to his belt there is a large pouch, a scroll case, and a ratty piece of cloth with an emblem embroidered upon it, a golden quill lying over an open book.*

"Jarvis, thank you for scribing the adventures of these fine people in my absence. Their record will stand testiment to the courage and resolve of all Phanterrans. I apologize for my late arrival. I was able to buy that book about the essence wars from the Guthrie storyteller. Hopefully we will be able to decipher and restore it. Do you have knowledge of the ancient dialect of the free cities?"

*Garet turns towards Grok*

"Grok...It is good to see you again. I will most certainly provide food to any who tell me their tale. Please, have a seat at our table and let me buy you a drink. Tale telling can be thirsty work."

[Trevor Owen]

Jarvis Fael:

"Good to see you again master Maevers. I am pleased your journey went so well, though I fear I have not done as well at gethering the records as you have. Perhaps it is because I have little in the way of bribes for these fine folk.

"Alas, the old lady who taught me letters was burned on a stake before she got much past the king's tongue and the gnomish tongue. Though I do have a smattering of elvish.

"I found something of interest for you though, I believe it is quite recent, a trade document offering the exchange of goods and services. I was out gathering birch and reeds for making parchment scraps, and came across this note.

Purchase for the Garrison of Gegrig’s hole.
Order Sale
32 Lambs 12 Women breeding age
8 Saddles 17 Children, mixed gender
2 Riding lizards 6 Longbows
12 Lances, flint tipped 12 Quivers, 20 c/y shafts, flint
48 Hides, boiled 12 Hens, egg-layers
15 Bolts cloth, undyed 12 Goats, milking
6 Oxen
3 Wooden harnesses 4 Small uncut gems
2 2-wheeled carts 8 Silver coins of the old realm
20 Bags mixed grains



The hole prospers. We expect to make one further shipment before winter, of mixed goods and slaves. Exchange to be made on terms as before.

"What do you think master?"

-Jarvis Fael

[Nelkie]

(Athos looks up in surprise at the mention of slaves. He he gets up and moves over to Javis)

Jarvis, where abouts is the garrison of Gegrig's hole?

It's good that there is another place we can trade, but what type of people sell slaves?

We need all the able bodies to help in defense and growing of food and they think it fit to capture people and sell them as slaves. How long have they been doing this pratice?

What race are the slaves? What race is selling the slaves?

(Arthos waits to see what Jarvis says)

[Azara Blackhawk]

*Azara looks over at the men talking*

Excuse me Mr. Maevers, but where abouts is this place? Been lookin' for small little places such as this one ta see if we can get to know others better.

[Trevor Owen]

Jarvis Fael:

"I don't know Mister Arthos where this Gegrig's hole might be. I found the parchment two rises to the south of here, it was laying alongside a foot trail. Though it looked as though someone had dragged a cart or sledge through there recently."

[Dallid]

These slavers may have accounted for some of the disappearances suffered by Haven. We should find them and investigate with caution.

[Azara Blackhawk]

*Azara looks at Arthos and nods her head*

Humm...guess I know what I'll be doin'.

*Looks at the other two*

Two rises to the south ya say?

[Trevor Owen]

Javis Fael:

"That's right ma'am. Two rises to the south, on the footpath."

-Jarvis Fael