Here is a bit of history my players and I are developing. Enjoy!
The Realm of Dalryn: What All Its Folk Know
The Realm of Dalryn is under the special protection of the Goddess Yshal, Mother of All. By the grace of Yshal does the sun rise and set, the moon run through its phases, the seasons their course, and life pass from birth to death. Yshal is the maiden, the matron, and the crone. She is the patron of all that grows, but also the welcomer of all that dies. She is the sound of the waves on the rocks, and the whisper of the night breeze in the rowan. The Mother of All listens when one prays in the still of the night, and she is present when one raises a fist to the heavens.
Yshal was the mother of Rorik Dalryn, known as the lightning bringer, who 500 years ago carved the Alabaster Throne with the power of his song. For centuries, his descendants ruled Dalryn from their capital city, Mount Sky. Dalryn stretches form the Endless Ocean in the West to the peaks called the Fangs in the East. The wooded Elven Kingdom Erish Villal adjoins Dalryn on the north, and is Dalryns closest ally. The Realms major cities are Mount Sky, near the north, Mistvale on the Bay at the edge of the Endless Ocean, Edinkal in the central valley, and Wyvernus to the south.
Much of the Realm consists of the Friendly Forest, which stretches for miles west of the Fangs and south of Mount Sky. Graced with tall, venerable trees and flower-bright clearings, this forest is sacred to Yshal, both in her own person and as her Elven avatar, Ayshulan. The forest is called Friendly partly because she can be very friendly to those who approach her in the right spirit, feeding them with game and providing them with valuable herbs, wood, and dye stuffs. But she is also called Friendly because she is not always friendly, so it is wise to speak her fair.
All was well in the Realm until about eighty years ago, when High Lord Skarlathon Elliskia of Wyvernus assembled an army of mercenaries from Muradim, denizens of the Shadow Realm, and a legion of Fiends. Through magic and trickery, he gained entrance to the Grand Courtyard of the Palace of the Air in Mount Sky. He slaughtered the royal family and took control of the Realm.
One aspect of his evil interregnum was that he attacked the Friendly Forest, trying to wrest material gain from her treasures. Elliskias minions barged into the Forest, seeking precious herbs and dyes, and setting up logging operations to plunder the stands of tehagon trees which grow in that forest. Tehagon trees yield the most wonderful light, strong and fragrant wood, prized by builders and artisans all over the world.
The Forests invaders did not have it all their own way. Limbs fell on them when no wind stirred. When they felled trees, the trunks often twisted as they dropped to land on top of the logging crews. Briars seemed to infest every path. A band of woodsman-fighters led by a man known as Shadowhawk harried the invaders. Nevertheless, much damage was done to the Forest.
But as of two months ago, the fearless young woman Adrilana, a scion of the house of Rorik who survived Elliskias coup, reclaimed her throne with the aid of a force of Celestials, elves, centaurs, and Muradim mercenaries. Lightning played over Mount Sky and the usurper Elliskia and his family disappeared. Some say that crucial to the new Queens success was the help of two powerful women, a priestess and a deru or druid. Adrilana is appointing Warders to help set all to rights within the Realm. A new day of hope is dawning for the decent folk of Dalryn.
The Sovereign Realm of Dalryn
Sounds cool. Got more?
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Rigon o' the Lakelands, Baron of The Castles & Crusades Society
The Book of the Mind
R-
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Rigon o' the Lakelands, Baron of The Castles & Crusades Society
The Book of the Mind
Castles & Crusades: What 3rd Edition AD&D should have been.
TLG Forum Moderator
House Rules & Whatnots
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Monday Night Online Group Member since 2007
TLG Forum Moderator
House Rules & Whatnots
My Game Threads
Monday Night Online Group Member since 2007
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mount sky
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mount sky
Skarlathon Elliskia Sulks In Wyvernus
Here's a little vignette for your delectation (goofy formatting courtesy of laziness and phpBB):
A faint sulpherous odor wafted in through the open window. It saturated Wyvernus. Every stone, every well, every wagon stank like a mouldering pile of offal. Nearly everyone was used to the stench, and politely agreed never to discuss it. Skarlathon Elliskia, however, had spent the last eighty years as King of the Sovereign Realm of Dalryn, ruling from the Alabaster Throne in the fabled city of Mount Sky. Now he was back in his native city, frowning as he looked out over the miasma which hung over the huddled little buildings like a smothering cloak.
If it's the last thing I do, he thought, I will return to Mount Sky as King. All will bow before me as they did of old, and the they will dance to my song of command.
The ousted usurper's reverie was broken by a high, wheedling voice.
"Master, how shall I present the details of your rule into the Scrolls? I am not sure what to leave in and what to leave out."
Is this mewling servant mocking me? He narrowed his eyes at the little, inkstained creature.
"Write events as you recall them, imp. I'm sure you will put your twist on them, regardless. Now go." His voice rang harshy againt the flagstones. The scaly, green thing flapped out of the room in a whirl of scrolls and ink.
This is only the beginning of the battle for the Realm. If that little slut Adrilana thinks she can hold the throne against me, she is gravely mistaken.
Elliskia looked out over the flat, grey city and brooded.
An Exerpt from The Righteous and Prosperous Reign of King Skarlathon Elliskia, Sovereign Ruler of the Dalryn Realm as recorded by Ignim Sharpquill, scribe.
. . . and so did High Lord Elliskia, aided by the men of Muradim, denizens of the Shadow Realm, and a legion of Fiends, gain entrance to the Grand Courtyard of the Palace of the Air via the Eternal Gate, which can be tuned to open to a particular place, based on the song of the crafter. One Cyprian of Erish Villal shall forever be counted among those loyal to Our just cause, for it is with his aid that the Eternal Gate opened to the Grey Plateau of Wyvernus, thus allowing Our forces to take the palace. Once the Grand Courtyard was ours, it was easy to overcome the remaining True Knights (if such a paltry band of rickety men can be honored such a title) and put to the sword that festering boil in the body of the Realm, the Rorik family. Father, mother, sons, daughters, we slew them all and sent their souls to the next world. Save one. But of that foul creature we shall not speak at this time . . .
. . . The reign of the Most Glorious and Divine King Elliskia did extend for four score years, our great ruler not aging a day, much to the great rejoicing of the populace. The Realm, from the Endless to the Fangs, was united under His most sublime rule. Rebels, those isolated pockets of corruption loyal to the Roriks, were lanced like so many leaking sores.
This Great Peace, however, did not endure.
Adrilana, foul scion of tainted lineage, cursed be her name throughout the ages, did muster in secret a host of Winged Folk from the Upper Realms, centaurs from Koresh, and a phalanx of elves fully caparisoned in eldritch mail. Mount Sky being invulnerable by land, she, with the aid of the furies of the air, landed her forces in the same Grand Courtyard which our Most Noble King took eighty years past.
But that was only the beginning of her treachery. By some wickedness did she close the Portals, and no aid could be drawn forth from the Netherworld . . .
A faint sulpherous odor wafted in through the open window. It saturated Wyvernus. Every stone, every well, every wagon stank like a mouldering pile of offal. Nearly everyone was used to the stench, and politely agreed never to discuss it. Skarlathon Elliskia, however, had spent the last eighty years as King of the Sovereign Realm of Dalryn, ruling from the Alabaster Throne in the fabled city of Mount Sky. Now he was back in his native city, frowning as he looked out over the miasma which hung over the huddled little buildings like a smothering cloak.
If it's the last thing I do, he thought, I will return to Mount Sky as King. All will bow before me as they did of old, and the they will dance to my song of command.
The ousted usurper's reverie was broken by a high, wheedling voice.
"Master, how shall I present the details of your rule into the Scrolls? I am not sure what to leave in and what to leave out."
Is this mewling servant mocking me? He narrowed his eyes at the little, inkstained creature.
"Write events as you recall them, imp. I'm sure you will put your twist on them, regardless. Now go." His voice rang harshy againt the flagstones. The scaly, green thing flapped out of the room in a whirl of scrolls and ink.
This is only the beginning of the battle for the Realm. If that little slut Adrilana thinks she can hold the throne against me, she is gravely mistaken.
Elliskia looked out over the flat, grey city and brooded.
An Exerpt from The Righteous and Prosperous Reign of King Skarlathon Elliskia, Sovereign Ruler of the Dalryn Realm as recorded by Ignim Sharpquill, scribe.
. . . and so did High Lord Elliskia, aided by the men of Muradim, denizens of the Shadow Realm, and a legion of Fiends, gain entrance to the Grand Courtyard of the Palace of the Air via the Eternal Gate, which can be tuned to open to a particular place, based on the song of the crafter. One Cyprian of Erish Villal shall forever be counted among those loyal to Our just cause, for it is with his aid that the Eternal Gate opened to the Grey Plateau of Wyvernus, thus allowing Our forces to take the palace. Once the Grand Courtyard was ours, it was easy to overcome the remaining True Knights (if such a paltry band of rickety men can be honored such a title) and put to the sword that festering boil in the body of the Realm, the Rorik family. Father, mother, sons, daughters, we slew them all and sent their souls to the next world. Save one. But of that foul creature we shall not speak at this time . . .
. . . The reign of the Most Glorious and Divine King Elliskia did extend for four score years, our great ruler not aging a day, much to the great rejoicing of the populace. The Realm, from the Endless to the Fangs, was united under His most sublime rule. Rebels, those isolated pockets of corruption loyal to the Roriks, were lanced like so many leaking sores.
This Great Peace, however, did not endure.
Adrilana, foul scion of tainted lineage, cursed be her name throughout the ages, did muster in secret a host of Winged Folk from the Upper Realms, centaurs from Koresh, and a phalanx of elves fully caparisoned in eldritch mail. Mount Sky being invulnerable by land, she, with the aid of the furies of the air, landed her forces in the same Grand Courtyard which our Most Noble King took eighty years past.
But that was only the beginning of her treachery. By some wickedness did she close the Portals, and no aid could be drawn forth from the Netherworld . . .
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mount sky
Really Good Story Hour
My star player, Peggy, is a great writer. She's put together a narrative of the latest plot arc here: http://www.dalryn.com/node/82.
I'll paste it here for convenience.
Episodes 1 through 3 of that Exciting Tale, Druid Avengers; or,
A Scream in the Forest, a Knock on the Door, and a Chittering in the Trees. Being an account of the adventures of the Queen's Warders in the Friendly Forest, presented for Your Approval by Peggy, Chatelaine of the Dalryn Campaigns:
Colt and the other Queens Warders made their way rapidly through the forest, the huge spiders ominous keening beginning to fade as they put distance behind them. Soon the Warders reached the ford over the Rillwash, and Colt breathed a sigh of relief as he began to pick his way across the wet stones. A school of minnows darted away from the hooves of Sir Alorics horse. A dragonfly hovered and danced above the sun-bright water, and the youth felt the muscles of his face easing toward a smile as he watched the blur and snap of its blue wings.
But then his brow knit as he began to think back, trying to plait the strands of memory and hindsight into one stout cord. Things had happened so fast from the moment when he and the other Warders who had left Watershy together, Sir Aloric, Scarrus, and Garrett, had heard the scream in the forest and dashed off the trail to find a body in a clearing. Almost immediately they had fought a party of dog-headed gnolls, who had bewilderingly vanished into puffs of sparkling dust when slain.
Then had come the identification of the body as one of Colts distant kinsman, wearing a silver ring set with amber incised with the image of an otter, a badge of this branch of the Woodfriend family. Conveying the body toward their destination, the village ofRowanbow, the party had encountered a patrol from the village. There had been a few tense moments until Colt could persuade them that he was indeed Kolvar Woodfriend, great-grandson of Kolter Woodfriendan identity which carried more weight here within the Friendly Forest than the Warders silver badges.
Colt frowned more deeply as he remembered how the young woman in the patrol party had wept wildly over the dead man. At the time Colt had assumed that she was the mans young wife, or perhaps his daughter. But he understood now that she must have been his lover. It was disquieting to know that the dead man, Terger Woodfriend, mayor of Rowanbow, had been dallying with women outside his marriage. Colt was sure Shadowhawk would not have approved, and nearly sure his great-grandfather Kolter would not have approved. But there did not seem to be much that Colt could do about it. He would tell Great-Grandad about it, when he saw him again, and that was that.
This was only one of the problems in the village of Rowanbow. In fact, so vulnerable did the villagers feel that they were actually cutting down trees to build palisades around the village. Once past the construction, the Warders turned over Tergers ring and dagger to his grieving parents, Colts great-uncle Kelar Woodfriend and his wife Orma, who seemed like decent folk. Kelar was now once again the leader of Rowanbow, and he conducted his guests toward the village hall. That was when the Druid Garrett stiffened, retreating into his hood. On the very threshold of the village hall, he had startled like a deer spotting a snake. He began to mutter, Cant go inNot again, not on my life! Colt, Scarrus and Aloric had all tried to calm him and reason with him, and they had been unable to get through at all. The Druid had shaken off Colts gently restraining hand to run into the forest. Colt had been ready to run after him, until Scarrus shook his head and commented, The ways of Druids are not the ways of other folk.
Despite their grief, Tergers parents and the people of Rowanbow welcomed the Warders, and the other new arrivals who appeared magically in the villages grove of tehagon trees: The mage-lady Moraine and Honeysuckle, an attractive young lady with great talent as an Illusionist, who had been sent by Dalryns Archmage to help with the problems at Rowanbow. The Warders learned more about these problems. It seemed that for some time, small nastinesses had been occurring: Milk souring, animals falling ill. And now the villages heir had died: Rowanbows best horseman apparently thrown from his horse.
The wake for Terger was what Colt considered a proper wake, weaving together a mourning for Tergers passing with celebration of his life. Colt lingered for a moment on an appreciative recollection of the local berry wine.
He wasnt quite sure why he had decided to follow Sir Aloric when the knight went to check on his great horse Jimathis in the village barn. Before they even reached the barn, Sir Aloric collided with a weeping woman, her cloak wrapped around something she clutched in her arms. Sir Aloric in his chivalry had offered help, but wailing that no one could help her now, the woman had run off into the darkness.
Another unpleasant surprise awaited them in the barn, where Jimathis stepped nervously in his stall, close to panic. Colt bolted back to the village hall to fetch Scarrus, Moraine and Honeysuckle. They found blood in Jimathis' stall and soon Aloric was bandaging small cuts that had been made in the great steed's pasterns while the rest of the party searched for tracks or other clues. They found none, unless you counted the rabbit that the gnome ranger Scarrus, able to commune with animals, had questioned. Colts mouth quirked in a half grin. There had been something pretty funny about seeing the gnome questioning a bunny. They had learned little except that the rabbit had seen something small, two-legged and dark entering the barn earlier.
While Aloric comforted his horse, the others had returned to the wake. By now most of the few who remained in the village hall instead of seeking their beds had fallen heavily asleep, but the four young people of the village patrol sat by the fireplace drinking another local specialty, melon wine. Now that, Colt reflected, was a truly amazing vintage. He had been more than a little confused by its potent fumes when a loud knock sounded on the halls door. Pouring out into the night, at first the Warders had seen nothing except a sparkling smear low on the doors outer surface. But then they heard the gnolls, desecrating the tehagon grove with their very presence.
Even with Sir Alorics help, the battle against the gnolls had not been going terribly well when suddenly the Illusionist Honeysuckle had started to shout that the gnolls were not real. That had made no sense to Colt the dainty Honeysuckle had run straight through one of the monsters, dispersing it in a cloud of sparkly dust! As the Warders caught the message, the illusory gnolls dislimned.
The companions had barely recognized their victory when the Mage-lady Moraine had disappeared with Honeysuckle, and moments later the Halfling Kojac and the Mage Slidos appeared, also Queens Warders sent by the Archmage. Colt paused in his thoughts long enough to wonder where this Archmage dweltperhaps in the Palace at Mount Sky with the Queen, whose Warders he seemed to manage with such abruptness and acumen?
At about this time the Druid Garrett had returned, explaining that he had vowed never to enter a building again, and that he had fled the village to avoid the temptation to break his vow. Barely had the new Warders and the old begun to get acquainted when the woman who had earlier collided with Sir Aloric came seeking him. Colt recognized her now as the wife of the deceased Terger Woodfriend. Sobbing, she had announced that she considered herself to blame for her husbands death, and she mentioned a book of spells. The conviction had grown on Colt that this matter could best be handled by the local Deru, one Anbar who dwelt behind the famed Whitefoam Falls, and thither the party had proceeded.
He shook his head a little as he thought of the wonders they had seen by the Falls. When Garrett had cast Light onto the tip of his spear, some unknown force had propelled him off the cliff into the pool below the Falls in what should have been a fatal fall. But a short while later all the Warders, and Tergers wife, had been grouped on the ledge behind the falls, where Garrett had seemed healthier than ever.
Then the very rock of the ledge had shaped itself into a form that spoke, proving to be the Deru Anbar. Before his uncanny presence, Tergers wife had told her story. She had used an old village spell book to conjure what she had thought would be a mischievous fairy to play tricks on her husband and the young women with whom he had been involved. But things had gotten out of hand. The being she had conjured had turned out to be worse than mischievous. Now her husband was dead, and the evil sprite or whatever it was had taken the spell book. Colt realized that the spell book must have been what she was clutching when he and Aloric had encountered her earlier.
The Deru had judged Tergers widow, and told her that she must spend the rest of her life in service to him. At first the woman had been distraught, and even tried to leap into the pool and drown herself, but Colt had grabbed her arm, and finally the knight had been able to persuade her that her fate was just and tolerable, better than the death that the villagers might have meted out, a chance to redeem herself in service.
The Deru had explained that the situation she had provoked was even worse than it appeared. The evil sprite who now had the spell book might be associated with a magic Gate which had been opened in the Forest, connecting it with Infernal planes. Colts blood boiled as he thought of his. How dare anyone pollute the Friendly Forest in this way!
Anbar said that to overcome the evil creature, regain the spell book, and do something about the Gate, he would need the sacs of thirteen of the evil spiders who lived on the western bank of the Rillwash. After a few hours rest, in this mornings light the Warders had set out for the ford across the river. They were joined by Raz, a talking raccoon wearing odd leather pants. Colt chuckled inwardly as he thought of the scuffles between Raz and the Halfling Kojac.
After a frustrating searchin retrospect the Druids playing his digeree doo was an unlikely way to locate spidersthey had indeed found the spiders, skulking in webby nests high in the trees. A sensitive plant that Scarrus found wilted in the presence of these spiders, confirming that these were the evil spiders whose sacs they should take, and not the friendly spiders who were Anbars allies.
But the companions efforts to come to grips with the spiders failed. Kojac bravely climbed up to one of the nests, but only succeeded in getting his knife stuck in its sticky strands. The Mages sleep spell had workedperhapsbut brought the spiders no nearer to defeat. And members of the party had sustained damage from firey magic missiles that the spiders sent among them. When the spiders started their weird stridulations, which seemed so likely to summon other evil spiders to their aid, the Queens Warders had decided on strategic retreat.
While Colt had been reviewing all these events, the companions had crossed the Rillwash and started up the slope they had descended this morning. As they neared its top, Colt tried hard to think of a way to conquer the spiders. Colt sometimes admitted privately to himself that he didnt always know the best thing to do in every situation. Usually he just plunged ahead, and often there were consequences to pay. But when he remembered to, he sometimes asked himself two helpful questions. He asked them now.
What would Shadowhawk do? A long mental silence ensued. He was sure Shadowhawk would have had a plan, and equally sure he hadnt the slightest idea what it would be.
What would Great-Granddad do?
As he thought the question, the party reached the place where the path back to Rowanbow ran along a ridge. Stepping onto the trail, Colt found a blue dragonfly hovering almost in his face. He drew back a step. Why was the insect here? There was no water near.
Except for the Whitefoam Falls and the enchanted pool beneath them, at the opposite end of the path from Rowanbow
Suddenly Colt knew what Great-Granddad would do: Go and talk to the Deru. Learn when fire and axe might be permissible in these parts. For they sometimes were permissiable. Fires could be lighted in the Forest, when and where it was safe, and he remembered hearing about the time a forest fire had been in danger of spreading, and the forest folk fought fire with fire. And woodcutters who were careful and considerate of the forest were allowed to ply their trade. Besides, the evil being summoned to the forest was a real danger, and had to be fought somehow. Maybe it would be permitted to cut the trees or try some fire arrows, in the forest all scantly leafed and moist with springtime. He would ask the Deru.
He turned to his friends.
I'll paste it here for convenience.
Episodes 1 through 3 of that Exciting Tale, Druid Avengers; or,
A Scream in the Forest, a Knock on the Door, and a Chittering in the Trees. Being an account of the adventures of the Queen's Warders in the Friendly Forest, presented for Your Approval by Peggy, Chatelaine of the Dalryn Campaigns:
Colt and the other Queens Warders made their way rapidly through the forest, the huge spiders ominous keening beginning to fade as they put distance behind them. Soon the Warders reached the ford over the Rillwash, and Colt breathed a sigh of relief as he began to pick his way across the wet stones. A school of minnows darted away from the hooves of Sir Alorics horse. A dragonfly hovered and danced above the sun-bright water, and the youth felt the muscles of his face easing toward a smile as he watched the blur and snap of its blue wings.
But then his brow knit as he began to think back, trying to plait the strands of memory and hindsight into one stout cord. Things had happened so fast from the moment when he and the other Warders who had left Watershy together, Sir Aloric, Scarrus, and Garrett, had heard the scream in the forest and dashed off the trail to find a body in a clearing. Almost immediately they had fought a party of dog-headed gnolls, who had bewilderingly vanished into puffs of sparkling dust when slain.
Then had come the identification of the body as one of Colts distant kinsman, wearing a silver ring set with amber incised with the image of an otter, a badge of this branch of the Woodfriend family. Conveying the body toward their destination, the village ofRowanbow, the party had encountered a patrol from the village. There had been a few tense moments until Colt could persuade them that he was indeed Kolvar Woodfriend, great-grandson of Kolter Woodfriendan identity which carried more weight here within the Friendly Forest than the Warders silver badges.
Colt frowned more deeply as he remembered how the young woman in the patrol party had wept wildly over the dead man. At the time Colt had assumed that she was the mans young wife, or perhaps his daughter. But he understood now that she must have been his lover. It was disquieting to know that the dead man, Terger Woodfriend, mayor of Rowanbow, had been dallying with women outside his marriage. Colt was sure Shadowhawk would not have approved, and nearly sure his great-grandfather Kolter would not have approved. But there did not seem to be much that Colt could do about it. He would tell Great-Grandad about it, when he saw him again, and that was that.
This was only one of the problems in the village of Rowanbow. In fact, so vulnerable did the villagers feel that they were actually cutting down trees to build palisades around the village. Once past the construction, the Warders turned over Tergers ring and dagger to his grieving parents, Colts great-uncle Kelar Woodfriend and his wife Orma, who seemed like decent folk. Kelar was now once again the leader of Rowanbow, and he conducted his guests toward the village hall. That was when the Druid Garrett stiffened, retreating into his hood. On the very threshold of the village hall, he had startled like a deer spotting a snake. He began to mutter, Cant go inNot again, not on my life! Colt, Scarrus and Aloric had all tried to calm him and reason with him, and they had been unable to get through at all. The Druid had shaken off Colts gently restraining hand to run into the forest. Colt had been ready to run after him, until Scarrus shook his head and commented, The ways of Druids are not the ways of other folk.
Despite their grief, Tergers parents and the people of Rowanbow welcomed the Warders, and the other new arrivals who appeared magically in the villages grove of tehagon trees: The mage-lady Moraine and Honeysuckle, an attractive young lady with great talent as an Illusionist, who had been sent by Dalryns Archmage to help with the problems at Rowanbow. The Warders learned more about these problems. It seemed that for some time, small nastinesses had been occurring: Milk souring, animals falling ill. And now the villages heir had died: Rowanbows best horseman apparently thrown from his horse.
The wake for Terger was what Colt considered a proper wake, weaving together a mourning for Tergers passing with celebration of his life. Colt lingered for a moment on an appreciative recollection of the local berry wine.
He wasnt quite sure why he had decided to follow Sir Aloric when the knight went to check on his great horse Jimathis in the village barn. Before they even reached the barn, Sir Aloric collided with a weeping woman, her cloak wrapped around something she clutched in her arms. Sir Aloric in his chivalry had offered help, but wailing that no one could help her now, the woman had run off into the darkness.
Another unpleasant surprise awaited them in the barn, where Jimathis stepped nervously in his stall, close to panic. Colt bolted back to the village hall to fetch Scarrus, Moraine and Honeysuckle. They found blood in Jimathis' stall and soon Aloric was bandaging small cuts that had been made in the great steed's pasterns while the rest of the party searched for tracks or other clues. They found none, unless you counted the rabbit that the gnome ranger Scarrus, able to commune with animals, had questioned. Colts mouth quirked in a half grin. There had been something pretty funny about seeing the gnome questioning a bunny. They had learned little except that the rabbit had seen something small, two-legged and dark entering the barn earlier.
While Aloric comforted his horse, the others had returned to the wake. By now most of the few who remained in the village hall instead of seeking their beds had fallen heavily asleep, but the four young people of the village patrol sat by the fireplace drinking another local specialty, melon wine. Now that, Colt reflected, was a truly amazing vintage. He had been more than a little confused by its potent fumes when a loud knock sounded on the halls door. Pouring out into the night, at first the Warders had seen nothing except a sparkling smear low on the doors outer surface. But then they heard the gnolls, desecrating the tehagon grove with their very presence.
Even with Sir Alorics help, the battle against the gnolls had not been going terribly well when suddenly the Illusionist Honeysuckle had started to shout that the gnolls were not real. That had made no sense to Colt the dainty Honeysuckle had run straight through one of the monsters, dispersing it in a cloud of sparkly dust! As the Warders caught the message, the illusory gnolls dislimned.
The companions had barely recognized their victory when the Mage-lady Moraine had disappeared with Honeysuckle, and moments later the Halfling Kojac and the Mage Slidos appeared, also Queens Warders sent by the Archmage. Colt paused in his thoughts long enough to wonder where this Archmage dweltperhaps in the Palace at Mount Sky with the Queen, whose Warders he seemed to manage with such abruptness and acumen?
At about this time the Druid Garrett had returned, explaining that he had vowed never to enter a building again, and that he had fled the village to avoid the temptation to break his vow. Barely had the new Warders and the old begun to get acquainted when the woman who had earlier collided with Sir Aloric came seeking him. Colt recognized her now as the wife of the deceased Terger Woodfriend. Sobbing, she had announced that she considered herself to blame for her husbands death, and she mentioned a book of spells. The conviction had grown on Colt that this matter could best be handled by the local Deru, one Anbar who dwelt behind the famed Whitefoam Falls, and thither the party had proceeded.
He shook his head a little as he thought of the wonders they had seen by the Falls. When Garrett had cast Light onto the tip of his spear, some unknown force had propelled him off the cliff into the pool below the Falls in what should have been a fatal fall. But a short while later all the Warders, and Tergers wife, had been grouped on the ledge behind the falls, where Garrett had seemed healthier than ever.
Then the very rock of the ledge had shaped itself into a form that spoke, proving to be the Deru Anbar. Before his uncanny presence, Tergers wife had told her story. She had used an old village spell book to conjure what she had thought would be a mischievous fairy to play tricks on her husband and the young women with whom he had been involved. But things had gotten out of hand. The being she had conjured had turned out to be worse than mischievous. Now her husband was dead, and the evil sprite or whatever it was had taken the spell book. Colt realized that the spell book must have been what she was clutching when he and Aloric had encountered her earlier.
The Deru had judged Tergers widow, and told her that she must spend the rest of her life in service to him. At first the woman had been distraught, and even tried to leap into the pool and drown herself, but Colt had grabbed her arm, and finally the knight had been able to persuade her that her fate was just and tolerable, better than the death that the villagers might have meted out, a chance to redeem herself in service.
The Deru had explained that the situation she had provoked was even worse than it appeared. The evil sprite who now had the spell book might be associated with a magic Gate which had been opened in the Forest, connecting it with Infernal planes. Colts blood boiled as he thought of his. How dare anyone pollute the Friendly Forest in this way!
Anbar said that to overcome the evil creature, regain the spell book, and do something about the Gate, he would need the sacs of thirteen of the evil spiders who lived on the western bank of the Rillwash. After a few hours rest, in this mornings light the Warders had set out for the ford across the river. They were joined by Raz, a talking raccoon wearing odd leather pants. Colt chuckled inwardly as he thought of the scuffles between Raz and the Halfling Kojac.
After a frustrating searchin retrospect the Druids playing his digeree doo was an unlikely way to locate spidersthey had indeed found the spiders, skulking in webby nests high in the trees. A sensitive plant that Scarrus found wilted in the presence of these spiders, confirming that these were the evil spiders whose sacs they should take, and not the friendly spiders who were Anbars allies.
But the companions efforts to come to grips with the spiders failed. Kojac bravely climbed up to one of the nests, but only succeeded in getting his knife stuck in its sticky strands. The Mages sleep spell had workedperhapsbut brought the spiders no nearer to defeat. And members of the party had sustained damage from firey magic missiles that the spiders sent among them. When the spiders started their weird stridulations, which seemed so likely to summon other evil spiders to their aid, the Queens Warders had decided on strategic retreat.
While Colt had been reviewing all these events, the companions had crossed the Rillwash and started up the slope they had descended this morning. As they neared its top, Colt tried hard to think of a way to conquer the spiders. Colt sometimes admitted privately to himself that he didnt always know the best thing to do in every situation. Usually he just plunged ahead, and often there were consequences to pay. But when he remembered to, he sometimes asked himself two helpful questions. He asked them now.
What would Shadowhawk do? A long mental silence ensued. He was sure Shadowhawk would have had a plan, and equally sure he hadnt the slightest idea what it would be.
What would Great-Granddad do?
As he thought the question, the party reached the place where the path back to Rowanbow ran along a ridge. Stepping onto the trail, Colt found a blue dragonfly hovering almost in his face. He drew back a step. Why was the insect here? There was no water near.
Except for the Whitefoam Falls and the enchanted pool beneath them, at the opposite end of the path from Rowanbow
Suddenly Colt knew what Great-Granddad would do: Go and talk to the Deru. Learn when fire and axe might be permissible in these parts. For they sometimes were permissiable. Fires could be lighted in the Forest, when and where it was safe, and he remembered hearing about the time a forest fire had been in danger of spreading, and the forest folk fought fire with fire. And woodcutters who were careful and considerate of the forest were allowed to ply their trade. Besides, the evil being summoned to the forest was a real danger, and had to be fought somehow. Maybe it would be permitted to cut the trees or try some fire arrows, in the forest all scantly leafed and moist with springtime. He would ask the Deru.
He turned to his friends.
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mount sky