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Prelude

And so, Death has withdrawn...
Can it be so?
More likely, hidden in slaver's sheath

Still, Maglor must rejoice!

To be free!
And being free,
Free to strike a blow for freedom

At his side, grim Brother Grish,
Dour, angry, righteous
And good-hearted Grimbergen
Ready smile, and helpful arm
Laden with guilty secret,
Longing for redemption

Nor doth Maglor forget the blushing flower
Kyilaliana
Gentle child, unfit for bondage
Nor mighty Spag, who towers above
Oaken arms
Fire and fear in his visage!

And clever Vren, with subtle laugh
And sadness etched in facial lines
Much of Vren passed
When Past,
Did pass
His lady

And saucy Polradia,
Fair-haired vixen, winsome smile
Spirited heart
Through her body, Maglor will attain her soul

Fear! ye slavers!
This mighty company approaches your hateful den!
Have ye any that dare stand forth?

Maglor's words peacefully lulled the group. The reflection of their campfire on the calm waters of the lake further quieted the group and eased away the tensions of the day.

Freedom... is a sensation that takes some getting used to, contemplated Spag, as he eyed his chatting companions. I have never lived a day in my life that was prescribed for me. Of the many paths that lie before me, none seems better than following along with these fellow ex-slaves. They seem to be determined to eliminate the slavers from whom we have escaped. That is a goal that I share, if perhaps more to maintain my own freedom than some nobler objective. If while traveling with this lot, I am able to amass enough gold to buy the freedom of my slave-parents, then all the better.

I am not sure what to make of this group into which I have fallen. Except for Grimbergen, they all seem be at least partially of elven blood. Their lithe beauty and fair features only serve to make my glaring beast-like visage more disgusting to me. Grish shows his elvishness the least, perhaps through sheer force of will, because he, like myself, is unhappy with the nonhuman aspect of his half-breed birth. Oh, what I would give to trade the foul orcish blood that runs in my veins. Grish does not know his good fortune.

Maglor, on the other hand seems quite satisfied with himself. As a matter of fact, he is quite consumed with himself. Though I find annoying his constant banter, his constant entreaties to the women of our party, and his damn singing, there is some quality about him that forces me to like and trust him. I feel that his charisma makes him an able, if somewhat indecisive, leader of our band.

Polrada and Kyil, a pair of stealthy and deadly elven beauties, seem to have become inseparable. I would not like to be on the receiving end of their twin bows. Though I would like to know them better, merely being near them makes my own monstrosity nearly unbearable.

Turning to see Vren and Grimbergen smoking the grubby goblin pipe, Spag continued his assessment. Quiet for the most part is Vren, another elf with a long history (elves--they will still be young when I am long dead). I have not seen much of the arcane arts in my life, so it is hard to judge his ability. My knowledge of wizards is limited, but from the stories of my youth they all tended to be an inscrutable lot with intentions shrouded in mystery and evil. This Vren seems nothing like that at all. He seems to take the good of our party to heart.

And finally, Grimbergen, who considers himself somehow fallen for past misdeeds. He and I have the camaraderie of brothers in arms. Though his tongue is sometimes loose with words, his heart is strong and worthy of trust. Fighting orcs (damn the entire race of them, would that have never been allowed to seed upon this earth) at his side made me sure of that.

This motley band, having made our way inland through the mountain caves finding much needed equipment along the way, now find ourselves in the service of a village troubled by a tainted water source. We shall see what we can do to help, but I hope Maglor has negotiated a healthy reward. Ending with that, Spag closed his eyes for the evening.

By the time Spag awoke, there was already some freshly caught trout roasting on the dying embers of the previous night's campfire.

"Mornin', Spag. Feel free to grab a bite before we head off," greeted Grimbergen.

Less than an hour later, the group was on the way westward. These woodlands were fairly sparse and flat, which made travel easy.

By midday, Polradia spotted danger and motioned the group to halt. Two cougars lay majestically in the distance, surveying the land for prey.

"Watch out!" cried Grish, afraid of repeating past mistakes.

"I might be able to put them to sleep -" before Vren finished his proposal, the two cats pounced into action. Scarcely a second later, they were felled by arrows from the group.

"Well that's ... just... dandy!" cried Maglor.

Polradia sympathized with him. "Mag, I really respect your beliefs, but when we walk past these hostile creatures, we are leaving ourselves wide open. Especially for weaker members."

"Thank you... Pol. But hasn't there been enough killing?"

Spag joined in: "I think we had no choice."

"I am all for not killing unnecessarily, but these creatures... they do not allow us any other course of action," answered Polradia.

"I could not be helped - these cougars were hungry for blood and would not let us by."

The tone in Grish's comment implied he was tiring of this banter, and so the subject was dropped after Maglor the last word: "The fewer killed, the better. There will be enough killing..."

Unbeknownst to the others, a lighter subject was in discussion simultaneously between Grimbergen and Vren.

"Hmm... these cats would make a feast tonight. I know a few recipes for wild game..."

"I never eat cats," sighed the elf. "I can never decide which way to skin them!"

Grimbergen began carving portions out of the carcasses, but soon noticed the distained looks on the others' faces and stopped.

Kyilaliana almost burst to tears when she finally noticed what the foul act he was committing. "I...I'd prefer if we leave them be, if possible. They... they're part of nature, as - as we are."

"Nature or not, it would be wasted. And we're short on provisions as is. But I'll leave it," said Grimbergen, trying to soothe Kyil.

"I'm sure some animal will make use of the meat," the elf commented.

"They and us, we all share of the spirit within us." reminded Grish.

They journey resumed, they approached a little pond, with water so blue and pure it seemed like an oasis in the desert. It seemed a good place to rest, and so Polradia crept ahead to scout the area.

"Have care, dear Pol! So, what think you, Grish? Am I not vile?" asked Maglor with a hint of guilt.

"Vile? Sinful and extravagant, but not vile."

A strange creature moved about it, but not quite splashing the water. A closer inspection by Polradia revealed it was hovering. She could now see a translucent blue figure, and its body seemed to be formed out of the same liquid as the pond. She returned to the group.

"A water elemental! Hold this position while we investigate further."

Putting away their bows as a gesture of peace, the two elf maidens approached the water. However, the elemental seemed to only view them as hostile, and immediately drew its trident and charged at them.

It was far away that the two were able to ready arrows on their bows. Not knowing if it would damage such a creature, they nevertheless fired. The arrows struck, and the elemental seemed to recoil a bit. At this point pulled the two aside and swung his axe, mortally wounding the foe. It collapsed, and the integrity of it's humanoid figure began to waver. Withing a few seconds it was just merely a pool of water.

Everyone agreed it would not be wise to stay here further. Continuing west towards the afternoon sun, a grove of trees greeted the party a few hours later. Entering with caution, the sharp eyes of the elven ranger soon caught sight of a plume of smoke in the distance.

She heard the voices of men who were boasting of a bribe he threatened out of a weary farmer.

"I...I don't like the looks of them."

Apparently Pol also took note of their conversation. "Bandits! Let's ride the world of these criminals!"

The other seemed. Pol and Kyil snuck closer and fired off a volley. One bandit was hit in the back of the head and fell silently. Another was struck in the side of the chest and also fell, but howling in pain. A third got up, startled, to investigate. The last one, a female, remained behind.

The brigand soon noticed the two elves and charged at them with his longsword. He also managed to avoid their second shots. Soon the last bandit noticed them and began an incantation that seemed familiar to everyone.

Grimbergen and Spag charged at her, fearing devastating effects of a spell. Suddenly, the half-orc slumped to the ground, snoring loudly. Luckily, the human had not been affected by this sleep spell and thrust his bastard sword through her abdomen, ending her threat. Turning around, he saw that Grish and Maglor had finished the other outlaw.

Everyone took their turn trying to wake Spag, but to no avail. When he regained consciousness, it was dark and they did not want to press further, so they relit the campfire the bandits had set up.

The air was becoming much cooler as the sun fell behind the mountain to the east. Polradia moved away from the fire, and took her position as sentry under a dead tree. Its limbs jagged out into the night sky, like accusing fingers.

"When, Pol?"

It was Maglor's voice, behind her. She smiled and turned to see him, standing, grinning like a fool, his crossbow resting in the crook of his arm.

"When what, handsome one?" she asked.

"When will Maglor taste your lips?"

Behind him, still seated at the fire, Brother Grish groaned. "Maglor!!" he harumphed.

Polradia leaned in quickly, and kissed the bard on the cheek. Maglor smiled, and appeared about to say something, but stopped short as TA Grimbergen joined them under the dead tree. Behind, Brother Grish muttered "The wolf is a part of your immortal soul alright....or the fox."

"Well...hello, Grimbergen," Maglor said.

"I think it would help if you found a nice flower for your lady friend," Grimbergen offered. His good-natured smile was completely disarming.

"But there is no flower as fair as you, Grimbergen," Maglor replied, winking.

"Hmm...let's keep watch, now, shall we?" Polradia asked, her expression suddenly clouded.

Grimbergen shrugged and returned to the fireside.

Maglor and Polradia turned to look out into the darkness. For a long while they said nothing, but listened to the conversation back at the fireside...."An old wizard once told me 'Every star is an eye,'" Vren was musing. "I still don't know what that means."

After a time, Polradia spoke. "You're sweet, Maglor. And certainly handsome, but....things take time." She glanced at him, shyly, from over her shoulder.

Maglor avoided the test of her eyes. "Aye," he said.

"But let's stand together, to be warm," she continued. She moved herself next to him, felt the heat of his body behind her, and smiled.

They stood thus for a long while, not a word passing between them. In time, Kyil and Grimbergen took the watch and Maglor and Polradia each retired to a separate bed roll, to rest for the next day's trek.

A Town In Need

The adventurers wasted no time in packing up and moving at the first break of light. With the warm rising sun on their backs, they headed westward. The open woodlands tightened as they journeyed, growing more dense with each step. Soon the canopy of trees covered the bright day, allowing in only focused beams of light between the leaves.

Everyone felt eyes watching them. The pace was slowed, and careful attention paid to every rustle of leaves.

Soon there was contact. Apes in the distance, quickly hiding in the mist once they noticed the group had spotted them. Kyilaliana led the group in directions opposite these encounters.

Two giant black gorillas -- with eyes glowing an eerie red and more armored hides than fur - soon approached the group. They seemed friendly, though. Their pace suggested curiosity more than danger. Maglor walked closer. Then it seemed something clicked inside the two animals, and they charged with fury.

The two scouts fell back and began pelting them with arrows, while Grimbergen switched to one of the giant axes he had taken from a fallen orc. It took a great many arrows and the combined might of the warriors to stop these marauding apes, but not before some serious injury on themselves.

"These...apes are well endowed," smirked Maglor.

"Maglor! Watch your words!" admonished the prist.

"Oh please, I hope you do not make a song about that," said Vren.

Grimbergen winced at his bruises, and grimaced at the thought of internal bleeding. "Strange... it seemed to want to communicate with us," he said.

Spag concurred. "I thought it was going to say something, but then it attacked."

As Brother Grish tended to his and others' wounds, Kyilaliana made a dreadful discovery.

"Um, I've got something to say," she said glumly.

"Speak on, cousin."

"I... I've no arrows left."

"Ah...neither do I, I'm afraid," said the blue elf mage. "Perhaps we will find a fletchter in the village." Polradia shared what few she had remaining with the others.

"We must attempt to communicate with one of these apes. Have we magical means of holding them?" inquired Maglor.

There was shake of heads. Then Grish offered his explanation. "These are dire apes, from the looks of them. They are possessed by some evil force. I doubt we will have success in communication."

"I wonder... could this black magic be related to the other troubles in the area?"

Loud footsteps interrupted the group. It appeared the previous encounter only stirred the anger of the other dire apes.

Grimbergen charged, before the archers had a chance to soften up the assailants with some arrows. He got one good swing out, but was overcome and thrown to the ground by the strength of the gorilla. It then began pummeling him as hey lay helpess.

Grish ran to his save him, and lashed his flail at the ape occupied on Grimbergen. The spiked end caught the beast right between the eyes, and it feel back, unable to see anymore.

Fighting off the apes was not easy, but the animals knew they were at a disadvantage and ran after a few of them were killed by the group.

Grish knelt and prayed for the unconscious young warrior, whose face was badly battered and bloodied. After he was healed, the cleric looked exhausted. "My spirit is spent for the day. I must rest."

"T.A. Grimbergen, you know you should not rush in like that without waiting for us to get a few shots out first!" scolded Polradia.

"I'm sorry... I ... I just thought you guys shouldn't be wasting your precious arrows on these things. But I guess they were more dangerous than I thought."

"Your intentions are appreciated, but it was foolish. Your life is much more important than a few arrows."

"If...if only I were better with animals. I'm...I'm not much of a ranger," said Kyilaliana, ashamed.

Maglor quickly comforted her. "Nay, Kyil, you are a brilliant ranger! Think of all the other situations where your skills saved us." The others joined, and she seemed reassured.

Even though it was mid-afternoon, everyone agreed to rest. The setting sun had trouble delivering light into these dense woods, and traveling in the dark of these dangerous lands did not seem prudent.

It seemed the dire apes, however possessed, had learned their lesson. The adventurers spent the night undisturbed, and the trek to the town the following day was uneventful - a welcomed respite. Just as the dwarf Genar had mentioned previously, the town was in sight, after a three day journey from the lake where they met.

They neared the outskirts of the settlement by early evening. A few buildings that looked that it had been there for generations stood around a stream ran through the center of town. The road that connected this community to the rest of the civilized world also crossed it at that point over a small wooden bridge.

A man stood sentry next to the bridge, though he did not look like he could do much in the event of danger. He seemed barely able to stand on without bracing himself on the railing, and coughed intermittently.

"Hail there, ye don't look so well. I'm Maglor," greeted the bard.

"Huh, hail. Saldo Nefgen." He paused for a cough. "Aye, the water is bad... do not drink it."

"We've heard. Doest thou know where Trabulta is?"

"Aye, he's in the house behind you... or at the inn. The barns have the sick in them, so do not go in there for your own safety. You must be the adventurers that Genar spoke of."

"We are indeed. We shall speak with Trabulta now. Take care of yourself, Saldo."

Maglor knocked on the door that Saldo pointed at. They heard the footsteps of a small person run to the door and pull the door open.

"Hail there, friends." A small gnome greeted the group, one who looked well educated, as all of their kind are known for. He had a look of despair on his face, though it was brightened by the sight of the visitors.

"You are Trabulta?" asked Maglor as he walked into the house. It was a large building, one that seemed to double as a laboratory as well as living quarters, with a few doors leading to different rooms. Scrolls, open books, half-filled potions, and other knick knacks littered main room.

"I am he. Genar told me of thee... thou art here to help us?"

"Indeed. The plight of the village rends my heart."

Vren, seeing a fellow mage, joined in. "What manner of poison is it?"

"Aye, so it does my mine. I know not what the poison is; only that I have a well downstairs with fresh water which, unfortunately, only helps those no afflicted."

"Really?" asked the elven mage. "Strange to hear of such water. Where does the town normally draw water?"

"Well, the water in my well downstairs is somewhat blessed... it grants power to those who need it." Trabulta pauses for a moment. "Not just to anyone, but those that it seems to choose on its own accord. Anyhow, follow the stream that runs through our town and ye will find the source in the mountains."

"I see. How long has this been going on?"

"It began about two cycles of the third moon cycle ago." The gnome frowned in sorrow as he once again realized how long the affliction has lasted.

"A long time to suffer so. What do you know of the mad beasts in the forest? Know you what causes their madness?"

"Nay, I know not of other strange things. Mad beasts?"

"Apes...apes with black hearts," said Maglor.

"Ahh, the apes. They have always run in the thick forest near here... tis their home. We stay away, on our prairie, where they do not venture."

"Listen, old boy, we really want to help, but we need some supplies. Know where we might find some?"

"Well, the innkeeper likes to trade with people traveling through our community. You might ask what he has."

"Thank you, Trabulta. I assure you, we will do our best to make all well here again."

The Poisoned Waterhole

Imbued with a drive from having a purpose in their adventuring, the seven marched with determination into the dark forest. Another group of dire apes waylaid the group, but spirits were high, and the gorillas were scared off after a few of their kind fell to the blades. Following the stream, they quickly located the source of the water from the mountains.

At the foot of the mountain, an ominous sight awaited them. An old cave sat beside where the creek trickled fresh mountain water to the town. However, the cave itself was not the problem — skulls freshly torn from the torso from whence they were attached flanked the entrance on giant stakes.

"Poor souls…" mourned Kyilaliana.

"Well… these appear to be skulls of the apes, fortunately," said Vren upon closer examination.

"Apes or humans or elves… this is still a savage and barbaric act! I'll not stand for this while Milikki watches over us! Onwards!" commanded Maglor.

Dread now consumed the adventurers. The quest now seemed not as adventurous as it once appeared. The seven slowly entered the dark cavern, weapons at the ready.

A putrid, nauseating stench assaulted them.

"This smell… it's familiar," mused the half elven bard.

"Aye. It's not rotting flesh… but it certainly is not natural as well," said Vren.

The answer came soon than they expected. A horde of hunched-over humanoid reptilian beasts, their scales refracting the light from the outside, appeared from another chamber. Their glowing yellow eyes stared at the adventurers, angered at the presence of these intruders.

Maglor quickly readies his crossbow and pulls the trigger, letting loose a bolt as Polradia and Kyilaliana sent their arrows flying. Most just bounced off the monsters' thick hides. Vren murmurs an incantation and an intense white beam of energy sears through one of the reptile creature's belly.

Realizing the futility of arrows on these beasts, Polradia quickly ditches her longbow and draws her sword in one hand and unsheathes a gladius in her offhand while charging into the fray with the cleric and fighters.

Spag advances and chops his great axe at the lead reptile, but is intercepted by a parry from the monster's giant sword. Sparks fly and blades clang as the two battle. But, the quarter-orc's skills soon dominate the duel.

Behind him, Grish madly tries to dodge the thrusts of the opponent's wicked sawtooth spear. Clearly straining himself with his girth, the cleric nevertheless manages to evade and swing his flail back in counterattack.

Polradia maneuvered to outflank the creature that Grish kept busy. An unseen spear jabs at her side, but she reacts fast enough to fend it off with her sword. Not losing her momentum, the elven thief jams her offhand gladius into the back of Grish's assailant.

She then whirls around and confronts the other spearman. This time the spear gets past her defenses and delivers a deep gash in her left shoulder. Collapsing in pain, she still manages to slice a deep laceration in the beast's right calf, causing him to stumble. T.A. Grimbergen steps in a moment later and lops off the reptilian warrior's head.

As the creature fell, the half-elven priest began praying for healing on the wounded. No one had escaped injury.

"What… what are these things?" asked Kyilaliana.

"I believe these are troglodytes. Their stench gives it away," responded Maglor.

Spag picks up the giant two-handed sword and inspects it. "Whatever they are, I don't care, as long as they can be killed." Tossing aside his battered orc great axe, he straps the new troglodyte blade to his back.

The carefully continued exploration. The inconsistent dripping of water from above kept the slippery moss alive on the cave floor, and the adventurers had tread carefully. Polradia disarmed a few traps that would have wrecked havoc on the group as they crossed a makeshift wooden bridge over a deep pool of cave water. The network of tunnels and pathways was quite vast but also surprisingly empty.

The air grew less oxygenated and more stagnant. Soon they realized why it seemed deserted — the rest of the troglodytes had formed a last line of defense in a large chamber that appeared to house their leader.