[Pathfinder] Journeys.

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Bronan is forced to jump back as the beast flails about with Fights Like Beast Hanging from his face. Seeing the goblin slash what Bronan can only assume is what makes the acid breath, Bronan then charges right back in, taking Beast's death in stride as the nature of battle. Fights Like Beast died whilst displaying his prowess battle and putting what muscle he had to great use, and if death was meant in the process of doing that, it should be celebrated, as he would meet Bronan proudly.

Bronan runs straight at the beast, then angles off to the blinded side once he gets close, hoping to flank around the beast’s sight and inflict a mortal wound. The dragon sees this coming however and once Bronan gets in on that side of its head, the lizard’s wings burst forward and out, slamming Bronan in the shield arm and driving the arm into his chest as the sound of breaking bones reverberate throughout the chamber. Bronan takes of spinning and slams hard into the ground 10 feet away. Rolling into a crouch and once again facing the dragon with his shield up, he knows he has some broken ribs and his shield arm feels as if it might be in quite bad shape as well. He however still holds the sword in hand.

Luckily the dragon wasn’t able to follow Bronan through the air, having run into a pillar it couldn’t see in its blindness followed by having Flo and Bacon’s shots land true. It turns toward him now though after shaking off the blow and charges. Bronan once more does the same, whipping his arm and tossing the shield to the side as he does, not feeling the pain of any broken bones in his rage. Bronan waits until the dragon thrusts its head forward to capture him in its maw before powerfully leaping into the air and above the snapping jaws. He grabs Fight’s Like Beast’s knife, still stuck in the dragon eye, and uses it as a handhold to reverse direction and swing himself down to the side of the dragon’s head. Using his momentum as he swings down, he brings the sword across in a great arc beneath the dragons head and then upward, sweeping the blade through its throat as if there was no armor at all.

[DarK_RaideR]

While the dragon is still busy with everyone else, Bacon takes a few sly steps away from it, before Fights like Beast draws everyone's attention into his heroic last stand. Despite the ancient and bitter rivalry between his race and the little greenskins, Bacon can't help but feel respect for the goblin that sacrificed himself in such a brave manner to take out the dragon's most fearsome weapon, especially now that they could no longer rely on the amulet's protection. When the adrenaline returns to bring him out of the stun, the dragon is already flailing around. Its flapping wings miss the gnome, but the force of the air moved by them send him several steps away to a rough landing.

 

"Okay, I've had enough of being tossed around" Bacon snaps as he regains composure. The thought that his fate is better than being hit by the wyrm completely escapes him in his emotional outburst. He walks back to cover as he reloads his crossbow, only this time he's feeling mean. He wants to hurt somebody. When he raises the weapon and braces it against his torso, he takes the time to aim the shot. "Hmmmm, not the other eye... too obvious... might even hurt Bronan by accident..." he mutters to himself as he waves the crossbow around, bolt tip scanning the reptilian figure. Eventually, he opts to go for the soft spot where the wings join the main body.

 

The shot lands on a nearby scale and the bolt drops to the ground. "Bummer" grumbles Bacon as he reloads for another shot. The next one lands inches away from its intended target. "Come on now, getting closer..." he says impatiently, preparing for his third and lucky shot. Flo's arrow digs itself deep onto the flesh of the dragon and Bacon takes it as his cue to fire his crossbow. The wyrm's spasm of pain exposes the wing joint and finally the bolt lands true. It doesn't seem to do much damage, but at least it puts the dragon's last charge a tad out of pace, allowing Bronan to do his acrobatic maneuver and finish it off.

 

"Yay! Teamwork!" shouts Bacon in excitement coming out of his cover, as the dragon collapses.

[cn3wton]

The dragon drops to the ground, his claws leaving long scores in the stone floor of the vault. Its eyes portray a look of disbelief and confusion, as its life force spills forth. Unable to fathom what is happening wondering where its strength has gone he searches the room and his gaze lands on the muscular human. Grasped in his hand a blade, covered in the dragons blood. 

 

The realization of what has happened hits the beast and he looks upon the figure with hate. He grows still quickly afterwards and passes on.

 

An eerie stillness fills the room. Dust slowly drifts to the floor, coating everything in a thin layer of debris. The group searches the room for anything of value. However everything of worth lies in ruin in the wake of the corrosive breath. The dragons final blow to the group.But perhaps the head of a dragon would fetch a fair prize?

 

Bronan clutches the dragon slaying sword and the dagger of the fallen goblin in his hands. Suddenly the magical sword begins to vibrate then crumbles to dust, its powers spent. The group has little left to do in the vault and heads back to descend the cliff. 

 

As they break the news to Fights With Words he bows his head. "We have payed much, but the Dragon lies dead at last. Our master can rest easy." He turns to his fellows and a few break away from the frenzy of those preparing to exit this place for good. They carry between them a large chest, inlaid with gold and painstakingly inscribed with beautiful swirling designs. They set it at the feet of their new leader and quickly hurry back to help prepare for the journey ahead. Words pulls a large golden key on a lanyard about his neck. He inserts the key into the lock and turns it, slowly opening the beautiful chest and revealing its contents to the group. 

 

Only filled about half with golden coins and numerous small gems it is still quite a sight to behold. "It is not much, but it is all the wealth we can spare. I must see to the group, and if I can recover what remains of my brother and our master. I will not leave them in this light forsaken place. Travel well friends"

 

And with that the goblin turns to his kin, his heart heavy with loss. The group assembles once more at the fountain, after an adventure full with exciting and dangerous trials who knows what yet lies along their path.

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

As the dragon begins to drop, Bronan can tell the battle is over. He plants his feet against the lizard's neck, and pushes off, jumping clear as it collapses, taking Fight's Like Beast's knife with him. The beast hits the ground as Bronan touches down 10 feet away. Exhausted and breathing heavily as his rage subsides, his arms hanging at his sides in fatigue, the Brobarian nods in respect to the beast even as it looks upon him with hate. Both knew who the victor was today, but only one of them expected it to be Bronan.

Once it is dead, Bronan allows himself to fall backward onto his butt, then onto his back, his fractured left arm cradled to his chest with Fights Like Beast's knife. The rest of his body is spread eagled as he lies there, breathing heavily and recovering from the full exertion of the fight. "Now that was a metcon... I really need to work on my conditioning..." he manages to say out loud to himself between breaths.

All of a sudden the magical sword vibrates and Bronan turns his head toward it, lifting the sword up slightly to see what was going on. As it crumbles to dust, he sighs disappointedly even though he had been warned that this would happen. That had turned out to be a good blade in the end.

Once recovered, he gets up and scans the room with the rest of them, keeping his broken arm clutched to his chest. When he realizes that the only thing left of value is the dragon itself, he chuckles. He didn't have a blade to sever its head, but if someone wanted it, it would still be here should they offer pay for its location. Wanting his trophy though, Bronan uses the goblin's blade to pry loose many of the dragon’s teeth. He gathers them together and puts them in his sack, figuring he could have a weapon made from them. Wiping the goblin's dagger clean, he sticks it in his boot and heads back toward Fights With Words with the others. Bronan is quiet for that meeting, nodding farewell to the goblin at the end.

At the fountain, he looks to Flo and Bacon. "Well, we made quite the fine team back there with all of your distractions while I put my strength on display. I'd welcome your company on my travels. I mean to journey about for a bit, spreading the glory of Bronan's gifts." he flexes his pecs to indicate what these gifts are as he says this. "There are bound to be even greater challenges out there for me to best."

[Terinatum]

The eye of the dragon fades, holding onto its hate till the end. Flo reaches the place that Beast was at, but she finds nothing. The ground is even worse for wear now than before they entered. She views the ruined treasure with a large measure of disappointment.

 

Flo looks around and sees Bronan on the ground staring at a crumbling sword right in his big, capable hand. She notices he also has Beast's dagger and sighs relief. They will know the dragon's blood was sacrificed to his blade. She spots Bacon jump from his protection and holler in glee. "Yay! Teamwork!" She throws him a big grin and then searches for a rag to tie around her upper arm. The blood was already hardening, but daddy would not like a wound free to get dirty. Flo smiles even as she has to tear part of her shirt to make a make-shift bandage.

 

The scales of the dragon are mostly corroded, but, using her dagger, Flo manages to get a small piece free of the crud, only blood staining it. She shoves it in her sack for proof and as a trinket for her stories. She follows the others down to see the goblins. The news hits them hard. She tells them the story of his last stand, but can't bring herself to smile in the memory, it being too fresh a loss. They bring forward a chest and Flo's attention is fully taken with it. The gold and carvings are exquisite. Words unlocks it and coins and gems bring her joy. He complains that it's all they afford, but Flo reassures him that their price was bigger and that their generosity is thankfully accepted.

 

The goblins move off ahead of them, and the three new comrades pause at the fountain. Bronan seems happy. He talks of continuing on together. Flo is surprised as she hadn't even considered it being any other way. "Of course, my friend. We are bonded now. I want to spend some of this loot, I need some new things and a nice bottle of wine or two! If you're interested in partaking of this great wine, meet me at the tavern and we'll plan our next exciting journey. I need to take a few gems now, debts ya know. I'll appraise these in town and we can take that from my share. Oh, where should we bring the chest? Tavern isn't my first choice! Bronan are you healthy enough to carry the chest?"

 

Flo hugs Bronan carefully and hugs Bacon with more abandon. "You boys are beautiful." Soon as she says it, she looks to Bacon and feels her cheeks warm up. "Okay, I gotta go! Secret things ya know! I'll be there before night fall, yeah?" They seem good with it and she bolts off without waiting for their responses, wanting to burn off the embarrassment before getting to the Den.

[DarK_RaideR]

Bacon never bothers with taking souvenirs from the dragon's corpse. The only thing "proof" does is strip stories out of all the good stuff. Moving towards Bronan, he tries to check his arm situation, always careful though not to offend the massive human with his help offer, as he might take it as a sign of weakness. When he sees him rising up and taking out the dragon's teeth, he's sure none of his help is required.

 

The goblins' treasure doesn't spark any excitement in him either. Besides, the chest looks more valuable than the contents and they weren't doing this for the money anyway. Well, at least he wasn't. Bacon nods grudginly at the little green creatures as Fights with Words speaks his farewell. He smiles to himself as he tries to think positive. At least the little buggers rewarded them with whatever they had, instead of stabbing them in the back after the fight. You never know where you're at with goblins.

 

Once they're back at the fountain, Bronan speaks his invitation into adventure and Flo quickly accepts it. "I'm up for the challenge too" he says, glancing at his comrades. "I mean, if slaying a dragon was only the first chapter to our story, who knows what's yet to come next!". As they trail to town, he finds himself thinking of Flo's offer. Yes, a little wine would be nice. Some music too. Maybe a little singing, a dance along if the mood's proper. Oh, and storytelling. People must know of their heroic feat.

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Bronan beams as the other agree to accompany him along. Even if they weren't the hulking companions he was used to from home, they were good allies in their own rights. When asked to carry the chest, he nods and kneels down, motioning for it to be set on his healthy arm's shoulder.

Back in town, he drops Bacon off at the inn/tavern and takes his third of the loot before going about having someone address his broken arm and ribs. He then commissions a steel breast plate molded and designed to tightly fit and resemble his torso from whatever local armorer he can find. He also finds a weaponsmith to commission a masterwork morningstar with the dragon's teeth as its spikes. He then heads back to the inn/tavern to meet up with the others and rest up for a few days as he waits for his armor and weapon to be constructed.

Over the following days, his mornings are consumed by working for farmers or local laborers for very reasonable wages just to "get a pump" or for "metcon", whatever those things are. Whatever these odd things are they don't seem to care, as between his back breaking pace and his strength, he does the work of multiple men. In the afternoon he spends his time doing odd things throwing very large rocks around in nearby fields, or performing feats of strength for the children in the town common area. He also consumes the food of multiple men at his three meals a day, having a dozen eggs every morning, 2 steaks at lunch, and an entire chicken at dinner. At night, he retires to the inn/tavern's common room and takes in the crowd and whatever entertainment, if any, there is to offer, but unlike most men of the wilds, he does not drink much.

[Terinatum]

Having found the tack hand very helpful in the stables, Flo was able to make contact with the local crew and deliver her donation and see what she could do for updating your own tack. After some unfortunate haggling, Flo comes out of the stables with new leather armor stuffed in a new pack. She also carries a nice new short bow and a quiver of arrows. She smiles through her bloodied lip and clean body, and heads toward the tailor's shop that she was told about.

 

After a fuss about the blood she brings into the cleanest shop in town, she bargains her way into two new outfits: one for travel which they will need time to make with all her secret compartments and a nicely embellished dress that she donned immediately to the blushings of both workers. Flo left her armor with the tailors so the clothes would fit well with the leather and the movements she showed them. To their surprise, she also left the bow and quiver of arrows, stating that she wanted a soft cover over the opening of the quiver so the arrows don't fall out or shuffle around too easily. With extra gold to seal the deal, they were happy to take her gear into their safe keeping until she came calling again. They smiled absently to her as she left, heads bent over and discussing what debts they could pay off with the extra gold.

 

Suddenly feeling a bit naked without her bow, she reassures herself that her darts are well within reach and that the small sack she has doesn't look too conspicuous. She had put a wrapped up piece of smooth cloth in her vest's inner pocket. It is stuffed with the gold and silver she wants to spend at the tavern. She needs wine, now.

 

She enters the tavern and scans the place with ease and interest. She spots Bacon curling up with a bit of drink with Bronan obviously away. She heads to the bar and seeks out the tender. "Good Tavern Keeper. My friends and I would cherish the opportunity to partake of your finest wine! Might you have a few samples? I would buy 4 bottles straight away to ensure you a decent profit from our night of celebration. What say you?"

 

Flo turns on all the charm she can muster to eke out the best wine the tavern has on hand. They don't always pull out the really good stuff unless there's serious profit to be had. She brings the small cloth out, near her bosom and unfolds enough of it to show a nice heaping of coins. She was no true beauty like her brothers, but her freshly cleaned copper hair, flowing free, and her new dress that enhances the purple-grey color of her eyes should push it over the top and fetch them some great wine.

 

With the four bottles of wine she bought, she settles one bottle in front of Bacon and another for the newly arrived Bronan, keeping the other two in front of her. Bacon seems content with his drink and the bottle. She looks to Bronan who has no drink in front of him at the moment. "Bronan, try this wine. You will appreciate its strength and beauty. I say this because I would like you to enjoy the finesse that goes into the making a fine wine. It makes me think of how much effort and finesse you put into making your body a temple of strength. Please. I dare say you will like it."

 

She sits down with her new companions and enjoys her wine. She'll talk with folks and tell stories for anyone will listen. She also tries to coax Bacon into telling a tale or two. One of her stories, the spider one of course, she asks Bronan strike a pose or two to demonstrate the power needed to kill the beast. She laughs, hums to herself, and takes in the soothing sounds of merriment and games. The rogue in the corner gets sick of watching her and leaves. She had plans to play later, but not tonight. Tonight she dances!

[cn3wton]

The stories say that the group of heroes returned to the town of Harglenn heroes with great fanfare. Carrying among them the riches of a kingdom, bedecked from head to toe in exquisite armor that shone brilliantly with gold filigree and precious gems inlaid. And that Bronan alone carried the dragon upon his back from the mountain cave without rest.

As with all stories it has grown far more grand with each retelling until the truth has almost been lost.

In truth the group set out from the cave carrying a meager amount of treasure by adventuring standards. Nimble Flo quickly rushed back to town for reasons unknown to the others at the time. The remaining two descended the mountain at a modest pace, Bronan trying to slow his pace so the "half-bro" could keep up, Bacon finding it quite taxing even still. Each hindered by their own trials of their adventure. Bronan carried the chest upon his good shoulder.

As they crested the final hill before the open expanse of farms stretched before Harglenn they took note of the small town. It was a modest place, inhabited by descendants of Northerners who had settled it in hopes of a more stable means of life. It lied on the Southern end of the Diamond Sea, named such for the beautiful yet treacherous masses of ice that drift aimlessly across. Harglenn was primarily self sufficient and isolated. Their only export of note, fish.

The town itself consisted of a grouping of homes, mostly for the local fisherman, with few shops interspersed. A tavern sat upon the east end of the dock, the largest building by far. Only a handful of boats moored nearby, all belonging to outsiders staying at the tavern. Local crafts laid on their sides hauled upon the beaches.

There was no celebration of the groups return. In fact it took many days for the shadow of the Dragon to truly fade. But after the group shared their stories a fog seemed to lift from the place. They where indeed praised as heroes. Many sought to provide thanks any way they could. The owner of the tavern Karl Audroson offered them two of his rooms for as long as they wished to stay. Rarely did a night go buy where they paid for drink, as many rounds where purchased for them. The members of the group accepted the praise with good graces, and aided the locals in return.

The town leader, Regin Teitsos, a man not quite old but not quite young held for them a grand feast. He was a kind and gentle man. His position more of a formality. He graciously accepted the group into his town, and was humbled when the group allowed the locals to remove the dragon's corpse and keep the profits from its sale.

A man named Holjt, leader of what was considered the small towns militia oversaw the extraction of the beasts remains. A rather large man with a face that always sported a smile. He often frequented the tavern, and was one of the first to offer song and drink to the heroes. He sang with great vigor, which greatly made up for his lack of musical skill.

It took less than a week for the first of the newcomers to arrive.

Word had spread quickly of the dragon slaying. The influx of travel was like a wound that would not close. At first the arrival of new wealth was seen as a blessing. But with this massing of people came all sorts. A small settlement of tents and shanties began to grow on the outskirts of the town. The dock overflowed with all sorts of crafts that many resorted to beaching just as the locals did. The area was so choked with them that the fisherman found it a struggle to find their way to the water, while some took the opportunity to serve as ferries, shuttling passengers from larger ships to the land.

The first to leave was the blacksmith couple, who had crafted Bronan's gear with a great sense of pride. Someone had bought their forge, and after settling all accounts they set off for a more stable and safe home. Trader's began to arrive seeking their fortunes. It was said that map makers worked furiously to add Harglenn to their creations.

The mood of the town soon shifted. Faces of friends where now flooded by strangers. And those who had once shared drink and revelry seemed to keep their distance. Holjt attempted to keep order as best he could but was cut down as he attempted to break up a fight on the outskirts of town. Little over a month after the dragon was slain. The settlement outside of the town began to grow. When speaking with one of the few remaining farmers he said...

"It was the day I drove my crops into to town that I knew. As I crested that hill as I had done countless times before, I saw it. The town I had known surrounded by ramshackle buildings and filthy tents. This, settlement. It looked to me like the maw of some great beast about to consume it. And it was then that I knew... I knew that Harglenn was dead. It was the beast that had done it. Even in death the Dragon had brought doom to the place."

The group sat huddled at their usual table at the tavern. It too showed signs of the changes that seemed to strip the town of what it once was. Karl's daughter, Dalla, no longer set foot from behind the bar. Customers only glanced at the group with mild interest, or whispered rumours. Men gambled in one corner. A group of drunkards nearest the door began to burst into song, bringing on a pang of loss to those who had known Holjt. It seemed to echo through the room, as the small fireplace cast a haunting glow.

Regin entered the door. He looked more his age now, bags under his eyes and a face full of worry. He made his way to the table, and sat across from the group, back to the bar. He rubbed his eyes, as if attempting to bring some life into them. He stared at the group, seeming to try to think of something to say when Karl brought the man a drink, a bottle in fact. He placed the bottle and a glass in front of Regin then chanced a quick glance to the group of adventurers before returning to his duties.

Regin poured a small amount of the liquor into a glass, raised it up, and seemed to mouth the name "Holjt" before tipping it back. He quickly poured a larger portion.

"You need to leave." He said, with a pained look across his face. Dalla and Karl looked on from behind the bar. "You have seen what has happened to this place, and for better or worse you are responsible." He drained the rest of his drink, swiftly pouring himself another. "At least that's what most people believe. In most towns locals would be truly accepting of this change. But this is not who we are." He motioned about the room before taking a drink directly from the bottle. "I do not blame you for any of it of course. I have grown to see you as friends. But others do not see it as such. I fear what might happen if you where to remain. I will personally provide you with provisions for your journey of course. And I have something you must see."

He reached down and produced a letter, sliding it so that the group could read it.

Dear Lord Regin

We are thrilled to hear of the great success and growth you have experienced in the past months. The town of Harglenn, or perhaps I should say city, is certainly a shining example of the possibilities of growth in even the most isolated of areas.

I am to understand that this has come about however, after the slaying of a dragon by a group of adventurers who currently reside within your city. I would seek their aid in a matter most troubling. Members of our village have been disappearing, while some have been attacked and little remains but their bones and a truly gruesome scene.

We have enclosed an object we have found clutched in the hand of a victim, we are but a small village and have nowhere else to turn.

Yours

Village Elder Hals

Regin slides a small object across the table. Its a circular amulet, with a simple that resembles and upturned V set in iron atop it. Hanging from the amulet is what remains of the broken chain.

"Lord Regin" he says with a snarl. "I have recieved many of these kinds of letters, most asking for you to come serve in their military or perform duties much like a bodyguard. But this..." he takes another large swig from the bottle "seems to be one you might be interested in." He pushes himself back from the table and stands up, unsteady for a bit on his legs. He grasps the bottle and begins to turn. "I'm sorry, I wish it did not have to come to this. But I think it would be best if you left in the morning. I will have everything prepared by then."

As Regin left Karl comes over with a large tray, atop it he has 3 large mugs filled with his personal ale. He sets them down in front of each of the adventurers. "I... I'm..." Dalla runs over from behind the bar, startling her father. She hugs each of the adventurers in turn, and kisses the cheek of both Bacon and Bronan. She then quickly runs upstairs with tears in her eyes. Karl watches her go, then says "On the house." His shoulders visibly sag and he returns to his position behind the bar.

Bacon, Bronan, and Flo quickly finish their drinks then head upstairs to prepare. There is little to do in a place that no longer wants them. At daybreak they meet a small group at the exit of town. Regin, Karl, Dalla, and a few farmers are there to see the group off. The farmers give Bronan some of their own dried meats and produce for the journey. Dalla hugs each of them before bursting into tears while her father hands Flo his best bottle of wine.

Regin stands holding the reins of a small pack horse. Piled atop it are enough provisions to see the group comfortably to the village. He hands Bacon a map and without a word turns and heads back to the town. The rest say their goodbyes and begin the next part of their journey.

Authors note:

As I sit here, at the very table frequented by the band of heroes I can't help but feel sorrow. Karl, with a little more gray in the beard and a slight limp, sits across me telling his story, Bronan's great club hung behind him. The pain of what they did just as fresh as that very day. "They saved us, and they all just wanted to toss'em aside. No one, not even me, had the strength to stop it. Worst is, they made poor Regin do it."

I was saddened to hear that Regin had died only a year after the group departed. Presumably he drank himself to death. But I cannot say that I am surprised. I thank Karl for his time, and smile to Dalla as I exit the bar. Her own son, Holjt, grasped firmly about her leg.

I walk down the streets of the now bustling city of Harglenn and notice that the tavern is quite possibly the only remaining original building. Men and woman hustle about hawking their wares. Great ships flow in and out at a constant rate. Harglenn has become a bustling center of trade. As I reach the center of the city I see the statue, made of gold.

Bronan, standing tall carrying the head of a dragon upon his shoulders. Bacon and Flo, both depicted as humans, flanking him.

When I finally exit, on the same path as the adventurers, I can't help but turn back and look at the city. And as I look I feel that perhaps the shadow cast by the dragon never really left this place, and that it lingers here to this day.

[The Most Loathed]

Elora began to hear stories almost immediately after the event, a group of kids practically had taken on the dragon of Harglenn and defeated it. Being a story teller, gatherer of tales and someone who lived in one inn after another she was poised to be among the first to hear and first to pay attention. These are exactly the kinds of stories that fascinated her. She had spent years reading lore of great adventurers and always wondering what had really happened. This story was living and breathing now, unlike the dragon. She had the amazing opportunity to speak to the actual actors involved.

 

Hearing a few travels speak of it in the inn one night she immediately began to  draw more details from them, some were likely true while others were not. She spun their own tale into a song that delighted them and inspired more travelers to share stories and coin. That night, in her room, she immediately wrote down the story she had been told, struggling to not let her own embellishments color this version. She would gather the story as she moved closer then speak to the adventurers and hear their version. She would bind all of these versions up, along with her own assessment and send them back to the Bard's Guild in Riverview. 

 

The next day she set out for Harglenn. As she neared the town the story began to shift and take on more realistic qualities. Some people even seemed to have seen the adventurers. The trip was generous to her as the roads seemed to be heavily traveled, giving her more coin as she performed each night and more safety as she moved each day. Her versions of The Fall of the Dragon of Harglenn was very popular each night as she layered in truths she learned and details she made up in each performance.

 

In the town of Harglenn Elora performs each night in a different tavern until she finds herself before the very adventurers themselves. They are both more and less than she expected. She had forgotten how much of their appearance and demeanor she had created for her story. After performing that night she spoke with the three adventurers and gathered the facts, or at least their own version of the embellishments. 

 

While in Harglenn Elora discovered that she was apparently the leading wave of a much larger pilgrimage as more people poured into to. While it made money easy to come by it also caused the town to lose some of its magic. She finished up her manuscript of all the versions of the tale she had heard featuring her own, of course, but also the original from the mouths of Bacon, Flo and Bronan. It was clearly time to leave town and find her next story.

 

As she prepared to leave town one crisp morning, before the roads became clogged with traffic that they had not yet adapted to, she noticed a small gathering of what appeared to be locals. Featured in that gathering were the Heroes of Harglenn. She made her way to the group, softly humming the tune of the same name. She observed what appeared to be a slightly ad hoc departure ceremony. She realized that the Heroes were leaving. Elora is always happy for trustworthy company on the road but this was something more. If they were leaving together, it was reasonable to assume that adventure would follow. She could document the story and tell the tale her way. She could be the origin of every song and poem. This was a life changing moment.

 

As the heroes left the crowd she felt butterflies in her stomach as she stepped out and asked if she could walk the roads with them.

 

 

NOTE:

Elora is a tall, thin elven female with black hair and very pale skin. She's wearing well worn traveling boots, tight trousers tucked into her boots. She has on a loose, dark gray blouse and a ruck sack that appears heavy and well used. She walks with a staff as a walking stick. She carries a dagger on her left side and has a composite bow unstrung but accessible. There is a longsword hilt showing from her bedroll. Her equipment all looks well used but not degraded. 

 

When she spoke to you in the inn before she was always in a black dress with silver threads. She wore her hair high and back and carried no weapons. She has a high but not squeaky voice. She sings beautifully and across a range you never thought possible of a single person. She also plays the mandolin very well but as mere accompaniment to her singing.

[DarK_RaideR]

Upon return to Harglenn, Bacon spends his time mingling with the locals and making sure that their heroic feats in the dragon's nest do not die in there with the beast. He does, of course, tend to exaggerate a bit, but he's sure that future storytellers will do so much more. Besides, the mere sight of Bronan's massive figure is enough to convince most listeners that the little gnome's endless narrative is true. Most of the first few nights are spent in the tavern, drinking and dancing. There are a few odd moments where he catches Flo staring at him with an unusual sparkle in her eyes, often accompanied with a smile, but his mind is quick to attribute it to the fine wine and move on. She'd been a bit like that after he saved her from the giant spider but for Bacon, it was just another occasion when someone once more started to take him seriously despite his size.

Partying is fun but Bacon quickly becomes restless again. He knows it's the adventures and hardships that make the celebrating worthwhile. His curious nature takes him out of the inn and into the surrounding wilds to explore. Once the population explodes, he spends most of his days around the shanties, spreading the tale of the dragon's defeat and learning about faraway places where the newcomers hail from. One of them in particular attracts his attention, a controversial man dabbling into magic. Some call him a wiseman and others a charlatan, but Bacon finds him fascinating. The man, unlike most studious spellcasters, has a more intuitive approach to magic and the gnomish sorcerer has much to discuss with him. Every now and then, he visits the hut and always seems to return with a trinket or two.

When the group learns of the letter, Bacon is almost relieved. Even with its newcomers, Harglenn had nothing new to excite him anymore and the shift in the locals' attitude only made him want to leave an hour earlier. It is time for the next chapter in their saga to be written...

[Tialoredron]

What's this? A dragon you say? Please tell me they at least saved a few of the components...

 

Thurindor sighs with the force of a groan at the loss of such magnificent spell components.

 

Perhaps they have saved a few bones of the dragon then; and with more research I think I could bring....What do you mean you don't want to hear anymore. I haven't even told you what I planned to do yet! Oh...you've heard of me then? Well certainly you must know...Hey! What are you doing! Get those shackles away from me! No I am not resisting! You are holding me against my will! Help! Help! I am being oppressed!

 

And so it comes that Thurindor was locked in the stockades in the middle of town square; a lonely traveler happening through Harglenn after hearing stories of magic in the works. Although slouched over, the elf occupying the central stockade seems rather tall; and if allowed to stand at full posture would be 6' 1". Even at that height, he appears a bit thin in the way of muscle, not to mention that there doesn't seem to be any fat on his bones, weight no more than 130 lbs by your estimates. From his hands, you can tell he was not a man of the field; if it wasn't obvious from his very pale complexion and contrasted with his darker than ink black hair. His almond eyes sees the court with disdain towards all those who approach. His clothes appear as if he has gone many miles in them and have seen rough travel, but they are still serviceable.

 

As judgment day arrived, Thurindor was found not to be practicing witch-craft like so many other undeveloped villages accused him of, but neither did they want his ilk to loiter their town. They banished Thurindor, a sentencing kinder than most other villages,  but none-the-less meant he was on the road again.

 

After allowing him to gather his personal affects, Thurindor left the village to find his muses elsewhere. Before he left, he heard rumors that the "heroes" would soon be leaving. 

 

Thurindor thought to himself Perhaps they will accept me as a traveling companion. At worst they may find another dragon....  Although he waited a few hours, he saw the heroes along with one other and was relieved, Perhaps they really are willing to travel with others...

 

Ho, fellow travelers! I see you are heading out and away from the village.  I am called Thurindor and I have no place to call my own or home yet. Would you be so kind as to allow me to travel with you? I am involved in the study of the arcane and I would be most gracious to use my skills however they should aid you. If I am correct in my assumptions, you are going out to further adventure, are you not? All I ask is that I am allowed my studies as I find them.

 

Thurindor hopes against hope at the party's response...

[Terinatum]

The attention was as intoxicating as the wine, more so at first. As the people came, looking for more than they would ever find, Flo started seeing local faces turning uncomfortable and uneasy with the huge influx of people. Flo enjoyed the new ones as they seem to have come from everywhere. At night, she strode through the tents, looking for interesting things, and realized their dragon adventure had taken on mythic proportions. She was only recognized once as she had not disguised herself with much that night, but ten gold coins kept the young human girl quiet.

 

Flo had helped her shadow friends build up and secure areas as their own. There was talk of a new group forming in the shanties, but her master wasn't convinced. Flo doesn't discount the rumor and spent her time outside her tavern home finding answers to the rumor.

 

By day, she taught kids to use the bow and checked in on locals delivering food and water as she could. The demand for food was enormous and the town well was lower than ever before. She went around to the new people and asked for workers to dig another well. It took a few tries, but when she finally went outside town without a disguise, she got lots of folks standing up and offering their help. She felt pleased with herself, but still carried a worry she could not decipher. Odd, she was pretty good at deciphering, just not in her head. She chuckles lightly as she walks the main road of town, watching and listening.

 

She spies another stockade with another out of town person held. She knew her master was wise, but she was more convinced than ever, that things were going to get worse for him long before they got better. She had no plans to stay and he accepted that easily which was reassuring and cracking her ego less than she had feared. She was happier on the move and her new friends were quite important to her. She thought of Bacon and wondered what he was up to today. She comes closer to the stockade, but slips into the shadows the sun is providing.

 

It's an Elf! What on earth was this about?  She peers at the Elf, trying to figure out what went wrong. He was tall definitely. His hair was beautiful. Flo traces the outline of his body in her mind and easily decides that he was no fighter, but his hands were deft. "Hum…" She turns toward the tavern and finds Regin in his usual spot. "Dear Regin, how does this day fare you?"

 

"Flo! I haven't seen you lately. How are you, friend?"

 

"I am well, my friend, I am well. I was curious about the Elf in the stockade. Do you know what he's there for?"

 

"An Elf? Mmm… Let me go check. Is he one of your kin?"

 

"They are all my kin, dear Regin, but no, I do not recognize him. He's no trouble maker, physically speaking." Flo grabs a quick lunch from Dalla, checking on her as well. She had come to really like her and what few conversations they managed to have time for, Dalla seemed happy.

 

"I'll git it now, Flo. How are ya? Haven't seen ya much, 'cept in the mornin'."

 

"True enough. I am helping out the locals as I can and gathering news from the newbies." Flo leaves it at that. Dalla knew enough about Flo to fill in the rest. Flo didn't flaunt what Dalla didn't like in front of her. Dalla was an upstanding woman. Well, just about a woman. "Have you found a fella yet, Dalla?"

 

Flo tosses out their usual banter and Dalla is quick to respond, "As soon as you give up who it is you are crushing on."

 

"Me? Nobody has ever rocked this heart. Not yet…"

 

"Me neither. Are there any men out there good enough fer us?"

 

"Oh blessed Earth and Sky, no. No one fits right… yet." They share a good chuckle. Flo starts in on the food Dalla brings out and the conversation lulls. She is stuffing a biscuit in her mouth, when Regin returns with red cheeks and a furled brow.

 

"Flo, I'm sorry, but the judges are accusing him of witch-craft. It's not going to go well for the boy."

 

"Witch-craft? An Elf? I don't think that's an accurate assumption. What was he caught doing?"

 

"I don't know, the report hasn't been delivered yet." Regin looks ashamed of his own people, but Flo doesn't let that expression take root.

 

"Regin! Snap out of it. If the Elf was up to some kind of magic, then the judges are just being extra cautious because of all the new people. Just tell them that an Elf doing witchcraft is highly unlikely. Tell them, I said that. Might as well use this influence for something good. Don't let them hurt him, alright?"

 

"I was hoping that would be your response. I will see to it as soon as I can." With that Regin leaves, still nervous and ashamed which puzzled Flo.

 

She finishes her meal and heads up to her room. She had everything packed for the most part. It had been that way for weeks. Her daddy always said that she was part Ranger. She didn't stay in towns long. Flo always wants the open air and rugged land. Maybe not the dragon cave again, damn spiders!

 

A few days later and she is with the boys as Regin comes in looking even worse than last time she saw him. She crinkles her brow in confusion, leaving her expression like that until Regin finishes his demand. She feels a sorrow she doesn't expect at the news that they are being asked to leave. She has grown fond of several people here and it feels more like a home than other place she has traveled to. She hugs Regin hard and asks him to take good care of himself. Her confusion leaves her, but her worry intensifies.

 

There are folks at the edge of town waiting on them. She strides alongside Bronan and Bacon, stopping as they reach the group of friends. It is a tough moment, but she refuses to cry and make them feel worse for it. She smiles and says she appreciates every hospitality they gave them. She walks out of town with her friends wondering if the next town's problems would create the same mess if they were successful. She says as much to the guys. "Will this happen again at the next town we help out?" She gestures to the shanties and all the people.

 

She searches the crowd and sure enough, her Master waves her farewell and disappears into the crowd again, very likely never to be seen again. She looks around and spots a strangely familiar figure moving toward them. She also hears a voice behind her asking to walk with them. She isn't surprised by the request, at least three others looked like they wanted to ask but didn't. At least she's got guts and doesn't idolize us.

 

Flo nods her head toward Bacon and Bronan with acceptance. She then turns her full attention to the Elf that is almost upon them. He too was looking for companionship, although he made it sound like he would be around awhile. Hum…  He had already gotten into trouble once, she wondered if it was common with him. She smiles inwardly at the thought that he was indeed a risk taker. He will fit in well she supposes. She lets her smile come out and looks in askance toward Bacon and Bronan for their answers. Just how many will be walking with us by the time we reached the first hillock?

[DarK_RaideR]

Bacon stands on the edge of town with the others as the gathering comes together. Always the restless one, he isn't sad to leave Harglenn behind, especially after what it has become. Still, he tries to maintain a stoic expression and hide his feelings, out of respect to the occasion, his friends and the few locals that really took them in. Bronan towers over everybody and probably shares his emotions, eager to go out and perform new heroic feats in praise of Brodin as opposed to helping peasants with meager tasks. Flo slips out of the shadows as usual to join them and Bacon sizes her up for a moment. Something seems very different about her, as if she's somehow... grown up.

"I'd bring the bard along" he tells Flo and Bronan once the newcomers have made their intentions public. "She's got talent and will definitely immortalize our exploits better than any of us can. Heard her at the inn a night or two, could come in handy when meeting people or even to boost morale with a song around the campfire". He doesn't want to admit it, but he feels like a kindred spirit to bards. They share his spontaneous and inquisitive nature and he really likes their tendency to improvise and come up with crazy solutions to various problems. Jacks of all trades they have been called and Bacon finds specialized, single-minded people extremely boring.

"As for the witchy guy..." he pauses, glancing around to assess his companions' reaction to his choice of words... "I'll overlook the fact that he's already managed to get in trouble, got himself arrested and I don't know how he's here now, maybe he escaped or got exiled, but hey... I mean, I already got our butts arcane-covered, right?"

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Like the others, Bronan enjoyed all of the attention at first, spending his nights showing off for his new fans. He even found himself a lady friend of sorts that spent many nights in his room. As the own changed, he grew more and more uneasy. The Brobarian was from a secluded warrior tribe that lived in the mountains. He wasn't used to such congestion, being at home in the open air and in the pines. The smell of unwashed bodies and constantly having people fawn on him ALL OF THE TIME grated upon his need to take in open spaces with a few close tribe mates

Not being one for self-reflection, Bronan didn't know that all of this was what was leading to his darker and darker mood, and his itch to spend more and more time on the farms helping out the locals. Even then he had a following and any more than a few days working for a single farmer would result in more young men volunteering to work there for meager wages and constantly peppering him with talk and questions. So, when Regin comes to them and explains that they need to leave, Bronan accepts it in silence. He understands why this has happened, people flocking to their exploits. He doesn't mind, as he was one that liked to be on the move and seeing what there was to see anyway, and finally realizes that this might be the source of his growing discontent. If it were so, like Flo, he at least hopes it's not exactly the same. He doesn't want to be leaving people worse off when he leaves than they were when he arrived.

In the morning, Bronan straps on his armor and heads to the meeting. His goodbyes to his local friends are as heartfelt as theirs, and he promises to come back and visit someday if he can. He appreciates the gifts and friendship, and truly hopes to come back to find the town better off than they were leaving it.

Before Karl leaves the group, Bronan asks him to wait and holds out his great club to the man. "Keep this, it's too much to travel with now that I have the weight of this armor. Put it somewhere in the inn. No matter what happens here, people will always know your inn is where we called home for a time. That way, no matter what other inns crop up, yours will always do well."

When the two ask to accompany them, Bronan's eyes narrow a bit as he looks them over casually as Flo and Bacon voice their opinions. He had been looking forward to the quiet of the road and being away from crowds. At worst he would just leave them in the next town if they annoyed him. Eventually, he nods, looking to Flo and Bacon. "It is not for us to stop others from seeking the same glory that we do. As long as they contribute to that cause and bring glory to our names, they should be allowed to follow our path." Looking back to the newcomers, "There will be blood and death, know that. But there will also be songs of our names sung across the lands should we earn it in the eyes of Brodin."

With that, he straps his backpack onto the pack horse and takes up its reigns. As they head out, they soon get away from the stink that the town had developed over the past weeks, and Bronan breathes that air in deeply as he did every day when he went out to the farms. He pauses and takes a long look back as they crest the final hill and out of its view, once more silently bidding it goodbye.

Note: Bronan is a bronzed beast of a man in the model of our favorite barbarian, Conan. However, he's also a real looker. Currently, he wears hide boots and tight fitting "shorts", his huge legs exposed. He used to bare his chest as well, but has since picked up the shining breast plates that is molded and shaped to mimic what lies beneath, as not to cover up the splendor that is him. His shield is slung across his back. At his right hip hangs the dragon tooth morning star, on the left his cold steel warhammer.

[Terinatum]

Flo gives Bacon an eye of disapproval at his witch remark. When he says, he has magic covered, she raises her voice some and tells him, "We will use whatever benefits us, yes? Would you disregard a scroll left by another, because you have enough? When is enough for magic peoples anyhow?" She gives bacon a playful grin, but leaves the disagreeable tone in her voice. She hasn't ever been in the least upset with either of her mates, it felt strange and uncomfortable. This would hardly be considered anger, but it was not something I like to hold in my heart and mind. She lets the anger melt away, not wanting to build an argument as it hardly seemed worth the fight. She simply says, "Who knows what we'll need out there." She passes her arm, bow in hand, across the open field and hillock ahead of them. "I say more more hands to the task is better until it is proven to be otherwise."

 

She doesn't wait for Bacon's reply as she did not wish to confront him and make him defend his thoughts. It was enough that they both were able to say what they needed. She smiles at Bacon as she turns toward the Bard to give a proper greeting. "Indeed a Bard would be delightful. Do you sing well? I have heard stories a many, but when they are sung, it is like nothing else. Welcome, I am Flomystavon, full elf. I'm handy with the bow and I love shadows, see?"

 

She holds out her bow for Elora to admire. She had the fletcher etch some family symbols on it and two figures depicting Bronan and Bacon. They were simple outlines, but she held both men very dear. You might forget many things in a long life, but first companions are not likely to be among them. She would do whatever it took to remember these days and nights. Flo turns to show Thurindor, trying not to blush at the lack of Elven artistry on her bow. He is a dark-haired boy, not terribly common where I'm from. It suits him.

 

She watches Bronan give away his club with some surprise. Bronan is a generous man, but mostly an efficient one. It made perfect sense. She smiled at him as he strapped up his pack to the horse. She pulls out the amulet to see what might be different in sunlight. She asks Bacon to take a closer look. She could discern some unusual things, but his knowledge in this far outweighed hers. She also thinks to ask their new members if they know anything of it.

 

They all walk up the hillock, Bronan and others turning back one final time. She sees the town outline as it use to be, but it will not likely be there for long. She hopes the newcomers get bored and leave now that the 'heroes' are leaving. She turns toward the road ahead and feels a lightness take over her steps. This openness was so welcomed!

 

Setting camp for she didn't know how many times, Flo gathers another armful of branches and twigs for Bacon's fire. His cooking was great though, even with the provisions and occasional hare. She heard someone crash through some low bush and grins. Not an elf or gnome! She reaches a berry bush and manages to stuff a bunch of them in her shirt without losing her load of wood. She hobbles back not wanting to crush the berries and asks someone to help her with the wood. She shows everyone the berries and let's them take their share. She nibbles on hers, watching Bacon intently preparing their meal. Cleaning up after a meal is an easy price to pay. Perhaps tomorrow would be the day they find a town.

 

 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

Flo has subdued shirt poking out from her new leather armor. She carries her new bow in her hand most of the time. She may clink a few times randomly as she figures out where to put certain hidden items. Her copper hair is again pulled up and back. Her new bracers are nicely colored against her pale skin. She hefts her pack for the trip as it's good work and keeps her pace down so she stays with the others. She will often be found nibbling on cheese and bread and gobbling up water whenever she can.

[The Most Loathed]

...She smiles at Bacon as she turns toward the Bard to give a proper greeting. "Indeed a Bard would be delightful. Do you sing well? I have heard stories a many, but when they are sung, it is like nothing else. Welcome, I am Flomystavon, full elf. I'm handy with the bow and I love shadows, see?"

 

She holds out her bow for Elora to admire. She had the fletcher etch some family symbols on it and two figures depicting Bronan and Bacon. They were simple outlines, but she held both men very dear...

Elora smiles at Flo and looks at the bow, crude but careful she thinks. She looks Flo with a soft face, "I know a song about these very people." She indicates the bow, and their companion."I will sing it to you as we walk".

 

...

 

Later, as the day wears on Elora fishes out her Mandolin, tunes it a bit and sings the entirety of her favorite version of The Heroes of Harglenn. Making sure to linger over each of the party members as she sings of their deeds. The sing seems to lighten their loads and ease their steps. As the tune dies it carries on in her mind, already playing with the next verse...

[Tialoredron]

In a matter of scolding a young adolescent for their lack of tact towards elders, Thurindor postures what you might consider a normal response from nobility.

 

Male "witches" prefer the term warlock, if you must know. And I am not a warlock on that account either, I studied the arcane arts under Universalist Master Khadgar and would appreciate it if you did not make that mistake again.

 

To Bronan, he takes a more serious and responsible tone.

 

I am very familiar with the workings of blood and death and I am looking forward to understanding its nature close at hand instead of reading about it.

I thank you for your defense, Flomystavon and Thurindor takes a respectful bow, but I am well enough able to take care of myself as I do not expect others to do so considering how my reputation has preceded me on most accounts.

 

Thurindor engages in small talk as the group travels, but he seems to be curt when he his asked about his past concerning the reasoning behind leaving his homeland. When the group stops to set up camp, he helps out as much as he is able; gathering wood, berries, clearing out sleeping areas. Once all has been done that further assistance is a detriment, he goes off to a quieter part of the camp, pulls out a fairly hefty tome as well as some rations and sits with his back against the tree and knees bent to make a makeshift easel  with the rations in easy reach.  You hear occasional murmurs as well as some erratic arm and hand movements, but nothing really exciting of note occurs during this strange display.

[DarK_RaideR]

Bacon snorts at Flo's remark, not unlike a child that's just been refused candy or a new toy. He understands the wisdom in her words and doesn't want to argue with her. Deep inside, a part of him is grateful for the way Flo played her part and got him out of the tight spot. He couldn't let the elf join them without posing any resistance, but neither did he want to back down immediately and lose face.

Thurindor's response however is just too much for the gnome to let unanswered. "I'm very well aware of the difference, hence the hesitation in picking my words" he snaps at him. "Warlocks strike deals with fiends and I wouldn't want to offend you by suggesting something along those lines. However, if you're tagging along, I'd appreciate if you dropped the attitude, at least towards my person. Just because I may look like a child of your race doesn't mean you can treat me as one, nor that I have to like it." With that, the sorcerer scuttles away to end the conversation before it derails and does his best to look busy and unavailable for conversation as he rummages through his backpack and loads his pony.

By the time they make camp, he's back to his usual happy self, chatting and joking as he sprinkles their food with spices. Since they're fresh out of a settlement, he cooks all the fresh meat and vegetables first, leaving the hardier supplies for later. Knowing Bronan, he was smart enough to get extra food so that he can now cook enough for the group plus the mighty Brobarian's increased nutritional needs. Bacon urges Elora to sing them something while dinner cooks and enjoys the happy atmosphere, treasuring the memory for later, when times will be harder.

He's a little late to realize the whole berry situation, so by the time he gets his share, most of the others have probably consumed their share. He takes his and puts it in a small pot, adding a little broth from their dinner, then sets aside a few coals and lets the pot simmer there. After they're done eating, he checks the pot, smiling as the berries have caramelized into something between marmelade and sauce. Bacon slyly passes it to Flo with a wink and whispers "For doing the dishes"

[cn3wton]

The group travels the road heading south at a crawl. Once a small path, now stamped nearly a dozen men abreast by the waves of onlookers and opportunists making their way to Harglenn. At first they would catch glances from within the crowd, perhaps seeing a passing resemblance to the heroes they sought. As the group drew farther away they became anonymous, but for the fact that they where the only ones trudging south against the tide. People seemed to stretch into the horizon, as if the road itself was a living thing.

 

Destruction marked its borders. A small farm sat half burned, occupants swinging from the rafters while livestock rotted in the pen. Travelling more than a mile without seeing a carcass of some kind along the road was quite a rare sight. When setting camp the group preferred to seek refuge a distance from the road to avoid trouble. 

 

As the days pass the destruction seems to ease as more and more paths begin to diverge. The masses of people soon to congeal into the whole grow fewer, until there is only one remaining. 

 

The last man they see upon the road is an elderly man, his clothing covered in filth. His cart, empty, lies stuck in the road as he sits beside it with his head cast down. As the group grows nearer he does not stir. Only when they stand just a few steps away does he raise his head.  

 

"If your going to kill me just do it fast, but know I've got nothing of real value to such as you..." He stares back at his bare feet and tucks his legs closer into his frail form. After a brief seconds he blurts out "Why won't you do it? Kill Me!!!" he yells, spittle flying from his mouth as he rises to his feet. He measures them up with his now crazed eyes. "Why spare me, why not the others?!?! I was supposed to protect them, and now... I thought they would help, surely the heroes of Harglenn would have come." He seems to recede within himself. "Maybe they never got it, that's right, surely they would have come. They wouldn't just let them be taken... surely... surely not.." He continues to speak aloud as he turns and trudges North. Leaving the cart and the adventurers behind.

 

They continue their journey, unable to quite the growing fear in their minds, but unwilling to share it aloud.

 

First sight of the village comes the morning two day's after encountering the seemingly mad man on the road. They had seen no one since. As expected it was a small village, perhaps a dozen small buildings at most. Lying on the edge of an immense clearing cut from a dark forest. Immense trees dwarf the settlement. As they grow closer their hearts sink as their fears seem to be realized. Smoke rises, and birds circle.

 

It takes them less than an hour to reach the village's west side. Moving cautiously through the small grouping of homes they hope the center would hold some clues. They see no one, not even corpses. Just the occasional mark of blood and footprints. Most homes burn, all show signs of damage. Doors lie broken on hinge, some collapse in on themselves. Debris slow progress, until  they turn a corner and find themselves in the epicenter.

 

A dark figure in ancient armor over a young woman, a ring of slain robed figures about him. His hand hovers above the corpse, a villager presumably, with a large wound in her bare chest. A cowl covers his face, with a soft green glow cast from within it. Moving his hand to the woman's face he brushes aside her hair. Then with a quick motion her eyes and mouth open, and green mist comes forth; entering the mans hand.  Seconds later the phenomena ceases, and the man re-closes her eyes.

 

He turns in the direction of the group and pulls his cowl back to reveal his face. Eyes glowing green and falling on the group. His head is shaven and heavily tattooed, with a sickly pallor to his skin made even more evident by his large dark beard. Rising he stands even taller than Bronan "The heroes of Harglenn, how good of you to make it." The words laced with anger. He carried no weapon, as far as the group could see "You defeat a dragon with a magic sword and luck, and you fancy yourself what now. Saviors? I guess that remains to be seen..." he says looking to still form of the woman at his feet.

 

Closing his hand into a fist the ground erupts in answer. From within a sea of skeletons flow, clawing their way to the surface with frightening speed. The group looks back to the man, now shielded by nearly two dozen undead. All with the same green glow shining from their empty eye-sockets. The man bends and lifts the woman into his arm, turns, and begins to walk to the forest. The gaze of the skeletons follow. 

 

"Deal with them."

 

The skeletons cast their eyes upon the group, with deadly purpose.

[Tialoredron]

Thurindor's eyes nearly pop out of his skull and his grin seems to go unnaturally from ear to ear. You hear heavy breathing emanating from him even though there has been no strenuous physical activity on his part. A wave of energy emits around him and covers a vast number of the skeletons and he yells, FLEE BEFORE ME AND BEGONE FROM MY SIGHT!  I have dealings with your master! His ecstatic euphoria seems to quickly dissipate as the skeletons stood their ground, seemingly not able to comprehend the basic instructions given. Oh no, did it not work? Blast it all! 

 

Thurindor retreats from the oncoming melee and draws his crossbow, Perhaps I can take down their master before he esca...where did he go? Thurindor spends a few moments in hesistation, still searching for his target but settles on one of the skeletons  and lets a bolt loose as the skeletons move in on Bronan.  It seemed from the theatrics displayed earlier, as well as the bolt knocking a skeleton in the skull sending it off balance for a moment, a few had taken a keen interest in this would be savior.

 

Thurindor begins to noticeably panic as he shakes trying to reload his crossbow; comeoncomeon.....FOCUS! Just as he readies to aim the shot, he looks up and sees the few that have given him attention just out of his reach. USELESS!! He drops the crossbow and the bolt shoots wildly off in the distance, the likelihood of recovering that bolt a shade to the left of slim to none. Reaching over his shoulder to draw his quarterstaff, Thurindor gives a great shout after he took a step back and swings fully around to apply as much momentum as he could muster through the staff. The strike was true and severed the skeleton in two.

 

Thurindor stared at the dead bones on the ground before him and took too long analyzing what he had just done. The second skeleton that had come after him attempted to claw at Thurindor, but luck was on his side that second. As the right claw thrusted forward, Thurindor parried with his quarterstaff  but was not able to move his staff fast enough to parry the other claw. The second claw was able to make contact with the Wizard's robes, and would have been much worse if he had not dodged by stepping his right foot back presenting a smaller profile of a target. Thurindor then focused himself again, spinning in the opposite direction he had for the first skeleton and screamed his second battle cry of the day. Thurindor missed the spinal column of the skeleton, by hitting it square in the side of the skull and sent if flying; where it landed he did not keep track of as he had more pressing matters to deal with.

 

Where did that Necromancer go?

What spell did he use to summon these creatures? 

I wonder if he has a spellbook I can....learn from; yes, learn is the proper term...

[Terinatum]

Flo is about to mention that she and her friends are indeed the heroes he is waiting for. But when she gets his attention and looks into his eyes, he is not here. He won't comprehend what she says. The words crumble in her throat and she watches him walk off. A sadness hits Flo unexpectedly. He feels responsible? But how? If a monster comes storming into your town and is fierce enough to do the damage they speak of, who would blame this one man for not fixing everything? She sends a comforting prayer his way, hoping it will do him some good… someday.

 

Her solemn mood isn't lifted as they step through the shattered town. This 'dragon' cared nothing for the life of humankind. Her clans have fought these types of monsters for centuries. These enemies wreak havoc on the balances in life that we need to sustain it for all of us, over long stretches of time. History will not be bright when eyes and hearts look back on these days. Flo wonders what treasures people had thought worthy of taking with them, when they fled for their lives. It always fascinates her. Her uncle use to fawn over this statue of Bas, the Cat God. But when his hut was burning with all the others, the statue took to the flame and melted away. When kin asked him about it, he just scoffed. "Treasure over my life and the necessities of life? What do you think of me, to consider that I would have taken the statue before this.' He then held up an art piece his granddaughter had made just weeks before when they came to visit. The crowd went crazy with laughter and the wine flowed.

 

The merry face of her uncle collapses in her mind as they arrive at what should be the center of town. But it's demolished, possibly to the point of no return. And the reason was standing too far away from her to kill with her bare hands. This is one that fights too far beyond sensible reach, upsetting the balance. He must be eliminated. She spots the woman hanging from the man's arms, seemingly unconscious or dead. Flo shades her eyes when the demon man draws green mist from the woman. Somehow, it seemed too intimate to do like that. Flo could feel anger welling up form deep inside her, places she rarely visited.

 

She can't possibly shot him without putting the woman in direct threat of even more harm so Flo stashes her bow. She feels less than effective, but she can move more freely. She searches what use to be houses for any other movement or sounds. Were they alone with this thing and the woman? She steps further toward the man, but no one seems to want to get too close, lest he hurt the woman. The nasty thing starts to talk to them. Speak to me, if you must, but it will change nothing, you must be rid from this world. You have overstayed your welcome!  

 

The Elf Rogue pauses her guarded approach completely, her hatred fuming. The woman wasn't of her free self. She was being held in some limbo. Flo wants to scream and send a arrow deep into one of the hideous man's eyes. She knows it's futile, but her anger burns bright in her heart. I don't know which is worse: the destruction he can cause on too wide a scale or the soul-sucking devastating damage he does to one person. She hadn't ever come across this personally. What do you do, what do you feel?

 

The ground bursts open, bones digging into the air, finding purchase for their scrawny selves way too quickly. Really?!  Flo scoops low to the ground, grabbing loose rocks. Time to smash some bones. She lets one loose immediately. It goes careening off a leg, but doesn't stop the skeleton's progress at all. Aim first, will ya!  She tosses the second rock into her throwing hand and takes aim at a boney bag of evil coming past Bronan's right side. She sees it clearly and lets the rock fly with great speed.  The crack was a delicious sound to hear, as the skeleton's hips broke into pieces, unable to support anything.

 

Flo slides down low grabbing two more rocks. She hefts the weight of the first one while looking for a target. There!  Just coming around a group of skeletons being decimated by Bronan, a skeleton bares down toward her and Bronan with speed she did not like. She forces everything she got into the rock and chucks it straight into the chest of the now falling skeleton, its ribcage no more and no spine to speak of behind it.

 

She turns to look for more, but instead sees Bacon fending off a skeleton with his spear stuck in its ribcage. Brilliant idea, Bacon! Another skeleton was too close to bacon for her liking. She dashes over, switching the rock to her throwing hand. A bolt goes flying into the skeleton held in check by Bacon. It was a beautiful shot and made enough room for Flo to get in the area, set her left foot and whip her right arm over Bacon's head and putting her new bracer straight into the other skeleton's would-be throat. Loud cracks and splintering were heard and seen. The skeleton dropped right then, with no noise, it's eyes losing their precious glow.

 

Flo turns to see Bronan dispatch the last of the skeletons. She turns back to Bacon and Elora, "Excellent idea with the spear! And that shot was perfect, Elora! She claps Elora on the shoulder, pulling back too late to stop it, not knowing how Elora felt about affection. She playfully hip checks Bacon and turns to see where their other new companion has ended up. "Bronan? All well with you?" She calls out to him. The massive destruction had come to an end so she assumed rightly that there couldn't be any more skeletons in the upright position. She searches the piles and broken walls for Thurindor. "Cousin, where art thou?" Flo grabs a few more rocks and slips them into her sack for the future. Next time I'm getting hammers I can throw! 

 

Something reminds her and she turns toward where the woman had been, sobering up immediately. 

[The Most Loathed]

The skeletons erupt from the ground and Elora is transfixed by a kind and level of magic she as never seen. Of course, she's heard, even sung of people raising the undead, calling beasts to their aid and feats that can only be described as superhuman but bearing witness is another thing entirely. She calls for her travel companions to fall back into the alley, slow and stupid skeletons seem manageable one at a time but a swarm could easily overwhelm them.

Elora falls back and tries to call upon her bag of tricks but the panic of the moment only brings to mind a hypnotism spell. She let's her voice ring out, hoping to hold the undead, making them easier to face. Unfortunately they either don't hear her or simply are unaffected by the trance. She strings her bow and looks for a defensible position and begins to drop a hail of arrows into the crowd of skeletons. She's unsurprised to see the barbarian wade into the fray rather than take the tactical approach. She is surprised as one of her companions scoops up rocks and has more success dropped the scourge than her arrows.

As the tide falls and there are more broken bones than whole she feels an inadequacy. The barbarian seems to have done the lion's share and she helped at best. Frustrated she busies her critical mind weaving the deeds of Bronan into the beginning of a new verse about her companions. She collects what arrows she can find as the encounter winds down.

[DarK_RaideR]

Meeting the man on the road, Bacon is unsettled but knows better than to strike a discussion with him. He seemed to have lost most of his sanity, drowned in despair and destruction witnessed. Which in turn could only mean one thing; they were too late to respond to the town's call for help. Once again, they would arrive and try to salvage something, probably be blamed for the fate of the place, as opposed to all the heroic tales where heroes show up just in time to save the day. Oh well, perhaps they'd make it out of this one too. Hopefully the songs would be kind to them and describe the events in a more lyrical fashion.

 

Upon arrival, the gnome's fears are confirmed. Very little remains of the town and even less clues as to what took it by storm. There is no sign of an army or even some raiding party, no corpses of attackers among the fallen townsfolk that litter the place. Surely, the man greeting them is powerful and evil to the core, but could he be that powerful to be able to single-handedly destroy an entire settlement just like that? His following actions are definately a hint; Bacon has no clue what sort of magical violation has transpired in front of his eyes, but he hopes the woman is still alive, suppressing his fear that the man somehow drained her soul or something of that ilk. His anger and worry soon twist his lips into a smirk as the horde of skeletons rises from the ground.

 

The sorcerer places his palm over his heart, a faint purplish glow getting stronger under it. He swipes the hand over his chest and the glow spreads, quickly forming into shining scales not unlike those of the dragon he and his friends slew in Harglenn. With his eyes closed, Bacon lets out a breath slowly as he focuses and lets the magic sink in. Then, reaching behind his back, he pulls his shortspear and whips it around like a monk would do with a quarterstaff. Grabbing it with both hands, he opens his eyes and fixes them on the skeletons. His voice is low but confident. "Come at me, bone"

 

Elora lets Bronan handle the bulk of the undead an leads the group to a chokepoint among the buildings. Bacon boldly steps between the group and the skeletons, working end of the spear pointing towards the approaching undead. Making sure he's their primary target instead of the group, his nerves are tested as he resists the urge to attack and lets the skeletons get as close as possible. Estimating their arms' reach, Bacon times his maneuvre, then suddenly takes a forward lunge and stabs the leading corpse in its ribcage. Without flesh to pierce, the weapon goes through and comes out of the rear, confusing the skeleton. Struggling against its force, Bacon can't trip him, but at least manages to keep him stationary enough for Flo, who's fought with him before and is the first to grasp what he's trying to do. A rock flies past and knocks the skull off the body. The sorcerer struggles to release his weapon, before putting its back end between another skeleton's legs. The corpse doesn't trip, but its attention is drawn to something hindering its advance, setting up Bronan for a mighty smash. Arrows fly by and Elora nails another skeleton. The following ribcage stab doesn't go as planned and the skeleton bends over, trapping the weapon deeper inside him and getting close enough to slap Bacon. A thundering crack is heard as Flo's bracers meet the exposed shoulder, reducing the undead to bony shards.

 

Pretty soon, their attackers lay dead, again. As expected, Bronan took up the bulk of the assault but the rest of the party was far from useless. "Good job, everybody" Bacon shouts out an attempt to raise morale. "Now, do we go after mr. Greeneyes or do we look for survivors to tell us what happened here?"

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Bronan's weapons are in his hands and the Brobarian is in motion before the skeletons are even fully out of the earth. By the time the swarm's gaze is back on the group after watching their master go, Bronan is on them at a full charge.

With a great backhand sweep of his warhammer to the left, he shatters the ribcage of one skeleton, the follow through going clear through the next as well, dropping them into a scattering of shattered bones. Swinging back to his right, the morningstar takes the legs from another before continuing on in its arc and catching on the pelvis of the next. A dragon tooth hooks into the joint and the skeleton lifts seven feet into the air before it flies loose, tumbling over the heads of the rank behind it, before coming back down and knocking two more off of their feet.

Bronan sends a meaty thigh into the ribcage of the one he had taken the legs out from, lifting it to chest level in front him before punching forward with his hammer, crashing it into the skeleton behind it. As they tumble backward together, Bronan leaps and comes down with both feet crushing into their tangled torsos, trampling the un-life out of them. He then kicks out to his right and removes the skull from the skeleton he had sent through the air, which had begun clawing at his ankle. He continues in that direction, slamming his way through a crowd of four he had knocked down or thrown off balance with the one he had just decapitated.

Having taken out the center and rear right flank, he growls and turns as two more skeletons claw at his arm right arm, tearing a trench in a deltoid almost as large as their skulls. He slams them back and away with that arm, takes a step forward opening his arms out wide, then brings the two weapons together in the middle, with the skulls of the two that had laid claws on him between. They explode with a crack in a cloud of dust and bone fragments.
 

Covered in bone dust, Bronan looks about and realizes the group has already taken out the rest of the abominations, which he had come to think of as "no-bros". With a snarl, his eyes raise up to where the green eyed wizard had taken the girl, then he charges full speed after him.