《Wasted Knights: Tales of a dark power》


 The beginning: A cliche, but not a tavern!

    The quiet jumble of an everyday crowd was interrupted by the clatter of hooves on the road. The man riding the horse seemed oblivious to his surroundings and barreled down the road at top speed, causing many to dive out of the way or risk being trampled. The horse was lathered to a sweat, seemingly on its last bit of strength, but still running at breakneck speed.


    Though most of the crowd was panicked, there stood a few looking on with interest. One, a half-orc camping out in the outskirts of the forest, worried for the safety of the people. He smelled an odd urgency in the air, and followed after, helping a few of the people overturned.


    Another, an odd lizard-like man fishing in the river, his scales raising about his neck in anticipation, was curious about what could cause such commotion. These humans were weird but got caught up in the most interesting things. He followed the trail of bedlam, seeking its source.


    In the smaller market, located just inside the gates, the horse stumbled to a halt, sending the man atop it flying. The horse took another trembling step and then crumpled. The man struggled to his knees, taking in deep breaths of air, gasped, "Help...You must help! My family!"


    A few guards had by now arrived, and they hurried over to the scene. As they got closer to the man on his knees, a robed figure stepped forward, bending to the man, "What need have you, friend? Where is your family?" His hood covered his face completely, making him seem more shadow than man. His outstretched hand, however, was blood red and clawed, drawing gasps and stares from the passerby.


    "We were attacked. Bandits...or madmen, I know not which. They destroyed my caravan... They had these monsters with them. Dead men, walking. And when we killed one, it would just rise and fight! I ran, but my family, they are back there!" The man started bawling, his shoulders wracked with grief, "Someone must save them. Please... I just started running and I couldn''t stop."


    The guards heard the mans words, but the one in front held up his hands scoffing loudly with a bit of a slur, "Undead? Please, that''s just a myth. He is obviously a madman. I''ll have you know, we don''t get paid enough to go after fairy tales. Come on boys." He turned and stalked away through the growing crowd, the others following quickly after.


    A young boy ran up and whispered a few words to the grieving man, who shrugged and nodded. The boy pressed a silver coin into the man''s hand, and then sprung to the horse''s side. In moments, a few more children with small daggers appeared, and quickly sliced the animal into usable parts and cleared the square of the mess. Soon, all that was left was the stain of blood, quickly soaking into the ground.


    "Cutters. Every time I see it, I refuse to go to a sausage maker....but I always end up going back." A man in the crowd muttered, adamantly looking away from the blood, "How they do it..." He shook his head and stalked off,shivering at some thought kept to himself.


    From under a stall, a limber figure stretched. His skin was also red, and he had small horns atop his head, along with sharp fangs that glinted when he yawned. In one hand, he had a small, dark bottle, the smell of which was evident from feet away, and the other he held out to the man in a halfway grand bow.


    "I will go check on your family. It can''t have been far. Did you stay on this road the whole while?"


    The man nodded, his weariness obviously catching up with him. He had multiple scrapes from his tumble off the horse, but even more, he had multiple wounds from what looked like swords, days old. He had been riding wounded, nonstop for who knows how long.


    The horned figure nodded and set off quickly, any grogginess from the sleep or the drink gone instantly. Flying swiftly after was the one in a dark robe, wings sprouting from his back. After a few moments, the young man scratched his chin and nodded to the one in robes, "Hey. The name''s Glory, though I''d be surprised if you''d heard of me. You don''t look the seafaring sort. You interested in the tales of the undead?"


    After a long moment, a voice spoke from under the hood, "I am Suffering. And the Undead do not interest me, I go to help those in need. You wouldn''t understand, pirate." Suffering disdainfully regarded Glory, who was dressed as you would typically think a pirate would be. A colorful shirt, with vest and a cutlass strapped to his back, knives all over, and a bottle in his hand, he grinned in response.


    "Maybe not. Then again, who would? I''m curious-" He was cut off by a looming shadow blocking the path. A large green figure blocked the path. He was a big fellow but had a gracefulness in his movements. He features seemed pretty enough, though half of his face was blocked by a finely worked silver mask. A somewhat musical, though guttural, voice spoke from the mask.


    "What of that man, in the square? What was his rush to get here? I saw him from the woods, he appeared wounded and in need."


    Glory replied while stepping back with his hand on his cutlass, "Well, I guess he was a farmer or some such thing. His family got attacked by some bandits and supposedly an undead creature or two. Figured I''d go and see what he had been talking about. Who are you?"


    The features that could be seen were troubled, and hesitant, "Were there young ones?"


    Glory shrugged, trying to edge around the man, "I would suppose so, the man spoke of his family needing help. One would assume he meant a child or two as well. Now if you would kindly move, we were off to see what it was about." The man nodded, stepping to the side, "I will come with you. It sounds like it could be trouble, and you could use another hand." A glaive materialized in his hands, and it was with sure hands the man held it. There was another strapped to his back. "I am called Andar."


    "Glad to have you, I''m sure. Though that robed figure might not agree. He tends to be a sourpuss it seems." Glory looked back at the nonresponsive man, flapping his batlike wings impatiently.


    The three set off once more, and when they got to the main gate to the city, almost weren''t surprised to be joined by a hulking lizard. One of the almost fabled lizard-folk, who lived in the swamp to the south. He smelled the air and grinned, his teeth sharp and shiny, "Smells like adventure. Swifttail join interesting bunch."


    Glory rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Of course you will. And if we try to stop ya, I''m certain you would eat us. Great choices. Welcome along!" He took a swig from his bottle and grimaced, but kept walking. Andar nodded formally to the lizard, dark eyes peering intently over the intricate mask. Swifttail grinned and spat out something small that looked like a bone and picked at his sharp teeth with one jagged nail.


    The group, odd as they were, traveled together for a few days. They silently made camp, set watches, and watched each other just as closely as they watched the road. Almost halfway through their third day together, they came into view of a wagon, overturned and smoldering. There were bodies scattered about; some of them were the bodies of mercenaries, but a few were robed in yellow cloth, with arcane symbols on the hem.


    They approached cautiously and heard sounds on the other side of the wagon. It was muttering voices, and the sound of something heavy being dragged. Andar, glaive still in hand, strolled around the wagon purposefully, and without a moment''s thought. He saw two men wearing dark, bloodstained robes, standing over a few dead bodies. At their sidewere two skeletons, standing upright, one of which had a naked sword in hand.


    Swifttail followed shortly after, reacting instantly to the danger. He flung out a hand, a green spray shooting towards one of the robed figures. The figure started coughing hard, blood coming up with each retch.


    Suffering flapped his wings hard, flying straight into the group. As he landed, black tentacles sprouted from the ground, slapping at the people and dead creatures around him. One cultist turned a deep shade of red as one of the tentacles wrapped around his throat.


    The other cultist pulled out a black wand, so dark that it almost seemed to absorb the light around it. He pointed it at Swifttail and a bolt of energy shot from its tip, hitting the lizard man straight in the chest. As the blast sprayed out over his chest, he stiffened, stunned.


    Glory danced around the combat, his feet finding scant purchase, cutlass whipping out and catching the cultist high in the side, drawing blood. Almost in tandem, Andar pulled up his silver mask, unveiling a face that was both handsome and repugnant. It had the grace of an elf, but the jutting lower jaw and fangs of an Orc. His glaive fell without mercy, andthe head of the robed figure went flying into the air.


    One of the skeletons ripped off one of his arms and swung wildly with it as a club, going straight for Suffering''s head. With near superhuman speed, Andar thrust his glaive into the path of the bone, causing it to veer overhead and miss.


    Working together, they were able to easily bash the remaining skeletons into pieces, breathing hard but grinning. With a start, Glory remembers all the dead surrounding him and the smile fades instantly, adrenaline still making his heart pound. Suffering walked over and grabbed the wand, hefting it, "Oh, ich. It feels so....greasy....what is this?"


    Swifttail crept over, eyes intent on the wand, "I''m not sure....but...can you hear that? It sounds....like someone crying out..."


    Suffering shuddered and stuffed it into his pack, "Can''t well leave it here. We will see if someone in town knows of it. Let''s continue to look around, see if there''s anything left." They spread out, and Andar calls out after a moment, "Tracks! I found some tracks! They lead that way!" He pointed, and in the distance, they could see smoke. They set off down the tracks, Swifttail stopping long enough to look back and point at each of the dead bodies. A wisp of flame shot out from his fingers, lighting each body into its own pyre.


    Down the path, they came across a farmhouse, that was obviously recently attacked. There were a few body parts littering the yard, and the door was kicked in. They rushed forward, finding themselves in a half-destroyed kitchen. There was food on the table with maggots crawling through it, and the kitchen was trashed. Not one chair was intact, and most of the cabinet doors ripped off.


    One set of doors was still on, though only barely, and was left hanging ajar. There was a repugnant odor to the air, one of death, decay, and despair. Andar cocked his head, eyes on the cabinet doors still there. He stalked over and ripped the door open, exposing a young child, about 12 years old, who cowered in fear while crying out.


    After a moment of Andar whispering that they weren''t here to hurt him and not making any threatening gestures, the boy calmed down enough to speak. Staring over tear-stained hands, he mumbled, "But...where...where''s the man?"


    Andarbegan to question the boybut decided that questioning the boy could wait until he had calmed down more. As they stood they began to hear raised voices from outside. The boy cringed and whispered in a hiss, "It''s him...He''s back!"


    They all looked at each other, and Glory nodded towards the back of the kitchen, "The back door. Quickly!" They all jumped to the back, pushing the door open into the night. The edge of the field, as well as the beginning of the forest, lay about forty yards away. Without hesitating, they all ran forward, diving forward just in time to land in the bushes as the back door slammed open once more. A man in odd purple robes, waving a bone around, emerged yelling, "Where is he? Where did he go, find him! We must find the boy!"


    He slammed back into the house with two gray-robed and hooded figures always a few steps behind him. The rest of the cultists remained, with even more of the walking dead, and began to search methodically. The party crept as slowly as possible out of sight, before rising to their feet to flee.


    "Quickly boy!" Andar snapped, "there must be a river nearby! Something to hide our tracks!" He wasted no time, already brushing a branch across their path so strew the leaves around more randomly.


    "T...There''s a river. It''s...um... It''s that way," The boy pointed shakily towards the north, and after a moment of silence, the trickle of water could be heard in the distance. The sound of zombies approaching the woods was growing louder as well, and so they leaped to the north, trying to gain some ground. It wasn''t long before they came across a small brook, about 4 feet across.


    "Listen, we can''t run farther than those things. I say we kill them here and hope the cultists think a bear got them," Glory spoke, hands on his knees and breaths coming explosively, "Gods, I need a drink. I''m not cut out for all this running about, where''s a good ship when you need one."


    Andar nodded, looking at Suffering, "We should hide. Surprise them. You can fight from range with the pirate. I''m not sure what you," Andar started to turn towards the lizard but paused when he realized the man was no longer standing there. A faint chuckle could be heard a few feet away, and Swifttail''s face broke the surface of the brook, "Hold breath long time. Hide here, attack from water. See?" He went back underwater, and once the brook settled to its usual course, it was almost impossible to see him. The water played against his scales so seamlessly, one had to really be paying close attention to pick him out.


    Andar turned to the young boy, "Hey, sorry I was so abrupt earlier. Just did not want to get caught back there. What''s your name by the way? We can''t just keep calling you boy."


    The boy looked terrified still and he stammered out, "B...B...Billy. My name is Billy... My parents...were they back there? I heard them....them scream...." He started to cry, shoulders shaking with each quiet sob, "I''m scared."


    "Alright, Billy. We''ll take care of you. Suffering, can you carry him? Fly as quickly as you can to safety, and then come back. We may need you." Glory pat the boy on the back while looking at his robed counterpart, "We can handle a few little guys....right?" He checked his shortbow and counted his arrows, "Yeah. Pfft. Easy."


    Suffering grunted, not bothering to reply, and gathered Billy close. With a strong flap, he was in the air and quickly heading to the north. As he vanished from view, Andar could be heard muttering, "I hope he comes back...we may need him after all."


    Glory shrugged, his shoulders rolling easily under his leather armor, "We should maybe climb a tree or something. Get some range. I''ve never seen anything like those....dead things. Who knows what we''re in for."


    Andar shook his head, "I have no range. I''ll hide behind a tree nearby and once our friend pops out from the water, I''ll come out swinging. You climb, pirate. Try not to drink too much while waiting." Glory stopped mid swig from his dark bottle and grimaced, "It''s a habit. It won''t affect my shooting." He mimed making a shot with his short bow and grinned, his teeth flashing bright white in the gloom of the forest. Fangs could be seen behind his thin red lips and his eyes flashed bright green.


    "Whatever." Andar ran to hide behind a nearby tree while Glory found one suitable for climbing. Long minutes passed by quietly, and then the rustling of bushes could be heard as something clomped their way through the underbrush.


    It wasn''t long before a few misshapen shapes crashed through the bushes near the stream. They were grotesque, with skin barely hanging on to their bones. One was missing an arm completely, and they all had this vacant look in their faces. Slack and unresponsive, they didn''t stop except for one, who grabbed a rabbit that was trying to flee and ripped it''s head clean off...


    Glory muttered, "Great. Probably told to kill anything that moves. We are in for it now..." He nocked an arrow and waited, watching the surface of the river carefully.


    It seemed as if Swifttail was never going to emerge, waiting until the lead zombie reached the edge of the water before erupting with a spray, his jaws gaping wide open. His teeth tore into the dead creature, ripping it almost in half before they even knew he was there.


    Glory let off his shot but a branch fouled the bowstring and made the arrow go wide. As Andar stepped from behind the tree, glaive ready, he snorted, "Not gonna affect your shooting my ass. Drunken pirate." He raced to the brook''s edge, leaping over it and striking the head from one of the zombies quickly.


    "I swear, it was the tree....damn it all." The second shot also went wide, and Glory threw down the bow in disgust, leaping from the tree nimbly.


    By the time he regained his feet and drew a cutlass, the scene in front of him changed drastically. Even the zombies that were heavily damaged were still swinging heavily with their arms, slamming into Swifttail and Andar. By the time Glory reached them, Swifttail was knocked out and Andar close to fall. "We may have overestimated ourselves... Andar, protect me, I''ll keep the lizard from drowning!"


    He bent over, trying to pull his heavy companion from the water, but heard no response from Andar. Looking up, he saw most of the zombies had fallen, but so had Andar. Two were left remaining, and both about to swing.


    "Well, shit."


    Blackness.


    Suffering could feel his wings trembling. While the boy didn''t weigh much, it was still more than he was used to carrying. Billy wouldn''t stop crying either, but then all of a sudden, he quieted. In a somber voice, he spoke, "We have to go back. They need you. There were too many.....I saw what they....what they did to my parents...." Suffering looked back the way he had flown and cursed silently. The boy was right.... he set down as lightly as he could, but still winced, "Listen, just sit tight here. You should be safe enough. I''ll be back after I save the others. I won''t let anyone hurt you. Just hide here."


    The boy nodded, his tears still staining his face. He mumbled but Suffering was already flying back the way he had come from quickly. The trees passed by in a blur, and try as he might, he couldn''t help but think of what had made him the way he was....that day at his hometown.


    It had been a long summer. Raiders had established a heavy-handed control of the town and enslaved almost all of the impfolk who lived there.


    One of the younger imp''s, named Wrath, looked on with a slowly growing anger in his heart. True to his name, he could feel it festering, and longed to be able to do something.


    He started to seek out other ways....until one day, he came across an old tome, bound in black leather. It appeared one day on the floor next to his bed, and with trepidation, he opened it. The page that fell open depicted a ritual used that could contact "one of power" and deals could be struck.


    Without thought, he started collecting the resources he would need. On a night with no moon, he spoke the words that were written in dark brown ink, and a figure appeared.


    "Foolish mortal. What need have you to call me here to this....pitiful place?"


    Wrath stammered, "I need power. I... I need to save my people."


    A grin slowly spread across the figures face, until it seemed to stretch farther than possible, "Yes...I can help you with this. What do I gain of it though?


    With sudden resolve, Wrath spoke, "Whatever it takes. Make me your creature after if you will, just let me save my people."


    The figure seemed to ponder for a long moment, before speaking, "You surprise me, mortal. Do you know who I am?"


    Wrath shrugged, "It doesn''t matter. A means to an end, just like I am. Save my people and then do what you will." He clapped once, a sharp sound echoing across the moonless night, "Done. There will come a time when I have need of thee. Then I will come. Until then, drink, and do what must be done."


    He strode over the magic circle that was supposed to protect Wrath without hesitating and slit his arm open with one long claw. The blood dripped onto Wrath''s face and made it''s way slowly to his lips. "What are you called?"


    The young imp licked the blood from his lips and felt power start to flow through him, "I was known as Wrath. But I will not let any suffer anymore. I am Suffering, and I will protect those who can''t protect themselves."


    In a second, he suddenly knew what he must do to save his people.


    Fire. Mayhem. Destruction.


    And then.....banishment. In his efforts to save those he loved, he became that which his people were most hated for. A demon incarnate.

 Seriously... why the feet? Poor guy...

    Suffering shook himself from his reverie as he found himself approaching the river. The sight he saw almost caused him to stop flapping his wings altogether: all of his companions had fallen, with the undead standing over them, arms raised to finish them off. With a roar, he flicked his hand, sending a blast of energy at the zombies, incinerating one of them completely. The other started shambling over, not realizing the difference in height would cause a bit of a problem.


    Suffering kept flying around, sending blasts of energy to try and finish the last zombie off, but was barely able keep its attention. A few long moments passed, with each breath sending the others closer to death''s door. All of a sudden, there was a flash of motion as young Billy ran forward, having followed Suffering. The boy started to pull the unconscious bodies of the adventurers from the water, doing what he could to stabilize them, thumping their backs until they coughed up water.


    The zombie saw a target it could actually hit and turned to shamble back towards the boy. Seeing his opening, Suffering landed directly behind the undead creature and blasted him point blank into the back. The creature flew forward smoking, struggling to rise but fell, the magic animating it finally giving out.


    "Shit..." Suffering ran over to the figures on the ground and helped Billy pull the rest free, "Nothing left but to wait for them to wake up....if they wake up. We''ll set up camp here and in the morning, head back to see if the cultists left. Maybe we can find some kind of clue."


    Billy nodded, seemingly cried out. His short cropped brown hair was spiked with sweat and he looked tired and sad. Once camp was laid out and they set out to sleep, the three unconscious tended to, Suffering was surprised to find Billy scooting up to sleep next to him. Shrugging, he closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.


    The next morning was a wet one. Luckily, the worst of the wounds was Glory, with a pounding headache that would soon be taken care of with a few swigs from an unmarked dark bottle. With a slight grimace after a long pull, he spoke, "So, kinda got our asses handed to us. Figure it would be smart to head back, or should we just call it quits and find a nice tavern somewhere? Maybe somewhere with some cheap drinks, I seem to be running a bit low." He forlornly shook his now empty bottle with a look of disgust. Swifttail shrugged, not caring where they went, "I am interested in this ability to make the dead walk."


    Andar chuckled and punched the young pirate in the arm, "Nay, we can do this. For the boy, right?"


    They all looked at Billy, sitting on the far side of camp, looking out at the surrounding trees sadly. He hadn''t spoken much since they had woken, barely mumbling thanks to Andar for handing him a piece of rabbit that he had caught earlier.


    "Fine, but if it all hits the fan, I just want the record-" Glory got cut off by Suffering, "Shush....did you hear that? It sounded like a...voice of some kind."


    Everyone listened intently, but no one else heard anything, "Huh...I must be losing it..." Glory and the others let it go at that, but Suffering still looked out in the distance, almost as if he was still listening to something.


    They crept along slowly through the trees, picking their way carefully and watching everywhere for signs of the undead. The morning was muggy, and soon enough, everyone was jumping at imagined sounds.


    The cottage was bare timbers. Almost nothing remained of the young boys home. There was no one in sight, but there was a light flickering from a fire inside, and murmurs could be heard of conversation.


    "What should we do?" Andar muttered in the gloom, "Frontal assault?"


    Suffering shook his head, "No....we can sneak up. They don''t seem to be ready for anything.... maybe I can fly through the new hole in the roof while Glory sneaks up."


    Swifttail grinned, his teeth shining white, "Just be sure to leave one alive."


    They waited a while longer, letting the night grow long and the cultists inside lazy and tired. The moon hung low in the sky before they struck, Swifttail kicking the door to splinters while Suffering dropped in from above. The cultists didn''t have a chance to respond, and the fight was over before it started. Of the four cultists who had been making camp here, only one was left. He was bruised, tied up and gagged, looking nothing but sullen at his lot.


    Swifttail grinned, a terrifying sight for anyone to see, "Leave him to me, will ya? I can take care of this real quick."


    Andar stood, grabbing Billy by the hand, "I don''t think the boy needs to see this. I shall wait outside with him if that''s okay with everyone." Without waiting for a response, he shouldered his way through the narrow door and disappeared, dragging the confused looking boy with him.


    Suffering shrugged, looking at Glory for a response. Glory shrugged in return, "Works out for me. Didn''t want to break into a sweat anyways. Go ahead big guy."


    Almost before he had stopped talking, Swifttail was at the bound guy, filling the man''s vision. Quick as thought, the man''s foot was between the lizard''s teeth, disappearing with a crunch behind the razor-sharp fangs.


    The man screamed so loud through the gag, the night went dead silent. Suffering looked like he was holding back the contents of his stomach, "Really man? You didn''t even give him a chance."


    He almost held it together, but when Swifttail grinned back at him in response, teeth now blood smeared. The sight was somehow even more gruesome, and Suffering was quick to follow Andar into the night.


    Glory shook his head and sighed, "Weak stomachs. Well, don''t just stand there. He''s gonna bleed out. Stop the bleeding and I''ll get started on the questions. We have a long night....well, he does at least."


    Two hours later, the two of them emerged from the rundown shack, both covered in blood. Swifttail had something clutched in his hand and was using a small bone to pick at his teeth.


    "What have you got there? Did he have something on him?" Suffering asked, trying to get a closer look.


    "No, I wouldn''t if I were you!" Glory tried to step in front of the hooded figure but wasn''t quite in time to stop Suffering from seeing the handful of fingers and toes that the lizard held closely as if clutching a prize. He pulled one from the pile as the warlock watched, popping it into his mouth with a satisfying crunch.


    While Suffering retched a little more, Andar shouldered his way into the small circle, "Enough of this. What did you learn? Where did that man and his two gray robed friends go?"


    Glory nodded, deciding to also ignore the antics of the odd winged man, "About a day or two to the northeast. Seems like he made himself a little camp, most of the cultists are still out in search parties. Pretty much just left a skeleton crew, from what I understand."


    Swifttail looked up from his musings and grunted, "Did he mean....actual skeletons?"


    Glory looked like he was about to deliver a scathing response but stopped, a puzzled look on his face, "I''m...actually not sure. Those were his words exactly, and I didn''t think about it. Huh.. Oh well, I guess we can see when we get there. A little late for it now, isn''t it?"


    Swifttail''s only response was a loud burp, followed by yet another crunch. He then mused aloud, "I wonder if I can keep these chilled somehow... tasty!" Suffering retched again and turned away, one hand covering his mouth.


    Andar turned and spoke softly to Billy, "Listen, kid. We are going to go after the man who attacked you and your family. We will make him pay. But first, we have to figure out what to do with you. Do you have other family members somewhere who can look after you?"


    Billy looked almost deadpan, and he shook his head, "There''s no one left. My parents..... can''t I come with you? I promise I won''t get in the way!"


    Andar sighed, "It''s not that. When we find this guy, things are gonna get hairy. And trust me, you''re growing up fast, but you do not need to grow up quite that fast. This is for your own good."


    Billy''s face hardened as his will resolved, and his next words were spoken without a waver, "No....I''d like to see him. I''d like to be there when you... He needs to suffer."


    Swifttail laughed, clapping the boy on the back, "I like it! I say come with us, we will take good care of ya. You want a finger?" He offered one out to Billy, but the boy turned him down, a little green around the eyes.


    "Listen. I know vengeance seems like such a good path-" Glory stopped Andar midsentence, "It''s fine. We will take care of you until we find you a place to stay. Whether that happens before or after we find the man who attacked your farm will be determined, and not debated. We will see."


    ''"Fine," Suffering rolled his shoulders back and popped his knuckles, "I think it''s about time to head to bed. It''s late, closer to tomorrow than today. And tomorrow will be long, we should get some rest. Glory, you got first watch?"


    Andar stepped forward, "I will not be able to sleep for a while. I will take first watch."


    "Works for me. Wake me in a few hours." Glory unrolled his sleeping pad and curled up, nursing a small brown bottle occasionally, "To help me sleep."


    Billy hesitated while everyone prepared to sleep, then walked slowly over to Swifttail. "Thank.....thank you. For what you did. And sticking up for me. I want you to have this-" He holds out a small blue river stone, sparkling like a diamond. "It''s nothing special but... it''s all I have left."


    Swifttail looked at the boy, then at the marble, before nodding. "Yes. I understand. This, I cherish of thee."


    They both stood there a long moment, before also turning in to sleep. Andar, who was listening from his watch post, felt the moment ring true in his heart and vowed himself to Billy.


    Morning came, and it wasn''t a pretty scene. The burnt out shack behind them, and the smell of death and smoke hanging everywhere around them, the beat up party set off grumpily into the woods, following the sun for direction. Andar went first, his sure steps setting a rough pace. All the while, Billy refused to speak unless spoken too, shellshocked from everything that had happened, just trying to process his new lot in life.


    Glory grumbled, trying to shield his eyes from the early morning sun. "The part they never tell you about going on an adventure. It really sucks. I think there''s a stone in my shoe, and we haven''t even started walking yet!" He spent a few moments looking around, "I don''t even see any rocks!! What the hell!"


    Suffering chuckled and groaned a little as well, "It''s a little too early for you, Glory. In fact, don''t you think that its a little too early for that as well?" Suffering was referring to the little brown bottle that was disappearing into Glory''s pack.


    "Naw. It''s never too early for this. Helps make the world go round. Only way I know it''s spinning."


    Suffering stared hard at the back of Glory''s head for a solid minute, his face a deadpan expression. Finally, he broke the silence, "You know, I''d love to say I knew you were joking, and laugh, but honestly, I''d believe it. But enough of that. The cultist said it was somewhere between a day or two travel, but they were also going the pace of the dead. I think if we push ourselves, we can get there by nightfall. Maybe scout it out and attack tomorrow. Any objections? No? Good, let''s get a move on."


    He took off into the air, leaving Andar shaking his head, "What I would give to have wings like that." Swifttail started to hiss, what was presumed to be a chuckle, "Need giant wings. Look funny. Heh."


    Andar frowned, "On second thought... I think I will make do with my feet." Glory clapped him on the back, "Look on the bright side. Less trouble too. I was wondering, you think he cuts the holes in his shirts himself, or does he have someone else do it for him?"


    "Just because I''m flying, doesn''t mean I can''t hear, ya know. It isn''t that noisy up here. Especially with your loud mouth." Suffering looked back over his shoulder, flapping in place, "And I cut them myself. People don''t usually like getting close enough to me to take measurements. But thanks for reminding me."


    They walked until noon in silence, only broken by Billy''s stomach trying to claw its way free. They settled down for lunch, a simple meal of dried meat and stale bread. Andar mumbled, "Sorry guys. I really thought my trap would have caught something." Swifttail shrugged, popping his last finger into his mouth with a crunch, "Lots of people running around. Animals scared. It happens a lot. It''s why the swamp is so much better. Less people. Less fingers too though..." He trailed off, his face twisted as he tried to figure out which was worse, people, or the lack of their "finger foods".


    "Ugh. Time to get up again," Glory started to stand, but he staggered to the side, his words starting to slur.


    Andar jumped forward to catch him, "Damn it Glory-..."He caught the pirate but stumbled himself, falling to one knee, "What....is happening?" He turned to look, but everyone else was already laying down, sleep overtaking them. The last thing he saw as he drifted off was Suffering snap awake, eyes filled with terror as he started to scream.

 Vengeance

    Glory woke, working his dry mouth. What had happened? He had just suddenly felt so sleepy...


    Andar spoke softly from a crouched position, "Please tell me that I''m still dreaming. That this....this isn''t true." He waved his hand at the scene, and Glory saw it for the first time...


    Swifttail was still on the ground. Must still be asleep...wait, there was something in his mouth. An arm? Where in the world did he find an arm? A moment later, he spotted the body of a cultist, currently missing its arm. He also saw the cultists sword thrust into Swifttails neck.


    Billy was nowhere to be seen and Glory vaguely remembered the shrieking of a madness-taken Suffering. He was gone as well, though the broken branches could be seen from his erratic flight. There was also a trail of broken brush, and blood, as well as signs of a struggle. Billy.


    Andar''s face fell before he scrambled frantically over to Swifttail''s body. His hands roughly searched the man, until he found what he was looking for and held it up: a blue river stone, shining brightly in the morning sun. His face had a look of relief for a half second, before settling into a grim countenance.


    Glory cracked his knuckles and winced at a crick in his neck, "We are going after them of course."


    "Of course. My apologies, but I need just a moment." Glory nodded and was confused when he saw Andar stalk into the trees. Pretending not to, he inched his way to see what the half-orc was up to.


    Andar stood hunched, his muscles clenched. In a slow, controlled motion, he raised his hand to the mask. It slipped off, and out of his senseless fingers. It hadn''t even touched the ground before Andar changed.


    His muscles clenched and he let out a bloodcurdling roar. His glaive slammed into a young oak, shearing its way halfway into it. Glory winced and judged it lost, but Andar wrenched it free and swung again.


    It cleaved through the rest of the bark, bringing the tree down with a crash. Panting, he picked up the mask and slipped it back on. Control back, he shook and walked back to Glory. "We can go now. We must find them."


    Glory nodded, content to not mention the display of sheer strength, "The path goes to the northeast. Seems like the cultists are taking him back to the camp. Now is the only time to strike, most of their forces are probably still out searching. We have a window."


    "I agree. We run."


    And they ran. They followed the path up until lunch, and then past. GLory managed to pull out a strip of dried meat to gnaw on, but he knew better than to try to stop. Andar would leave him behind, and who knows what would happen.


    Just an hour after they should have stopped, they heard voices. The jumbled up accent made it hard to understand the words, but it was obvious anger.


    "Ya stupid fookin rock! Yer s''posed to be special! But yer not! Yer just a damned rock!" A clatter, followed by a curse, rebounded through the forest.


    Andar was posed to continue running, but Glory stopped him, "Whoever it is might have Billy. Or have seen him. They obviously came this way, it won''t take long."


    Andar glared, but nodded, "Five minutes. Then I go." Glory sighed, but accepted it. They pushed past the brush into a small clearing. At one end, there was a small dirt roading, dividing the clearing into two unequal parts.


    The other was a sight to see. There was a small, heavily armored woman, shouting at a rock and hitting it with her mace soundly. Sparks flew, and a small chip of stone whizzed into the bushes. Glory stepped from the bushes lightly and called out, "Hey there! How''s it going? That rock do something wrong to you or something?" He edged sideways to get a better look at the dwarf without getting closer.


    "Aye. The rock did. It was fookin useless, and it was s''posed to be something grand. But who be ye, and why are ya in the forest?" The dwarf leaned the mace on the ground against her hip and stood looking at him, impatience making her tap her foot.


    "Oh, uh. Glory, at your service. Sorry about the rock. But we are currently in the woods searching for a young boy? Kinda young, possibly being dragged away by some cultists? Yellow-robed guys. Most likely put up a good fight."


    "Why the fook would I just let that past and not done anything? Ya think I would have just let them drag a kid by? Ya out of ya damn mind? Idiot." She spat out towards the pirate, then her eyes widened slightly, and she gulped, "Wait...ye don''t happen to mean....those yellow-robed cultists, by any chance?"


    Glory stiffened, not looking back, "With our luck? Most likely."


    He spun around and saw three of the yellow-robed men scrambling through the bushes. The first, and fastest, already had his crossbow raised and fired, the bolt flying quicker than thought. Glory backpedaled as fast as he could, but he could tell it wouldn''t be fast enough.


    A blur, and a clang. Andar stood poised, his glaive interposed between Glory and the cultist. The bolt had been deflected to the side, striking the rock behind them. There was a slight tremble, and the dwarf lady turned with an expectant look on her face, cultists forgotten, "About time!"


    The rock cracked even more where it had first been chipped. Luck caused the bolt to strike the same place, and it started to crack down like an egg. It split down the middle and a dark-skinned man with pointed ears tumbled out, gasping air like he was suffocating.


    Glory leaped over a bush and thrust with his cutlass, catching the crossbowman off guard for just long enough to drive him back, clearing the room for Andar to swing. He pinned the man on one side of the clearing, his superiority in dueling clearly showing.


    The others were trying to pin Andar, but his mask had slipped off and he was lost to their attempts. His glaive crushed one man''s chest inward. Before he even hit the ground, Andar had grabbed the other and lifted him into the air, his hand wrapped around the man''s throat. "Where. Is. The. Boy." He hissed through his teeth, rage barely restrained.


    The cultist was turning a deep red, and then faint purple, trying to gasp for breath. Glory pried one finger off while slamming the mask back into place. Andar dropped the man instantly, shoulders slumped, "Thank you. I was....not myself."


    "It happens." Glory turned to the man who was just starting to turn back to his normal color, "I think you better tell us whatever you know, lest my friend here loses control completely."


    "Uh... uh, the boy? There was, a boy I think...someone small. Talmion had him, took him straight to his tent. I don''t know who it was though, just told to patrol. I''m sorry, please, just let me go, I won''t say a word that you''re here, I swear. Please. I have a family. Two kids, both girls. I miss them..." The man trailed off, eyes full of hope.


    A deep, gravelly voice spoke from behind, "Lucky kids. They won''t ever have to deal with a dirtbag father coming to harass them. They get to be free of you." A bolt of fire flashed by Glory''s face and impacted the cultist in the chest, catching his robes. Frantic, he tried to roll to put it out, but it spread too quickly. The screams echoed through the night.


    "Good job, ya dimwit. Now everyone be knowin'' where we be. Idiot." The dwarf let out a growl and stalked towards the dark man, now on his feet. "And who do ye think ye are? That stone was s''posed to hold something special to Lyealle, and now all I find is YOU. This was all a waste of me time, why did I ever listen to that damned old man?"


    "Wait, who the hell are you? You the rock guy? Why the hell were you in a rock? By the gods I''m not drunk enough for this, I swear." Glory proceeded to remedy that by taking out his ever-present bottle and taking a deep swig.


    "I? I am Raja....but I don''t remember anything else. It has been a long while since I entered the stone to listen to the Earth. It is in pain... I must remedy it."


    Glory rounded on the dwarf lady and held out a hand, "Unless you''re going to introduce yourself so we know who the hell we''re talking to, don''t say a blasted word. Thank all the gods for liquor." He drained the bottle with a gulp and tossed the empty aside, pulling yet another from his sack. "Now spill


    The dwarf pulled herself up straight and grunted, "I am Magra Dunn. A pleasure, I''m sure. I am a priestess of Lyealle and was here on a task sent by her. You are intruding. However, thank you for dealing with those...." She gestured towards the men on the ground, "You are handy to have around. However, I must study this one further and you are getting in the way."


    Her eyes were locked on the dark-skinned elf, and he looked everywhere but back at her. It was awkward, and tension was growing before Andar grunted, "Come. It grows late, and we must find the boy. They must be close if this is one of their patrols. It also means we have a window. We must fly."


    Glory nodded and walked back to one side of the clearing, "You want, you can come with. Might learn a thing or two. Or you can stay here with whoever the hell that is."


    Magra nodded, turning to leave, but Raja stepped forward, "You go to save a young boy?" Glory hesitated, then nodded slowly, and Raja sighed, "I must go with you... this is at the heart of stone, and she whispers to me so." His hand was clutched in a fist at his chest, almost reverently, "You have my magic at your disposal."


    Everyone stared as his skin took on a rough appearance and shifting from black to a deep gray. He looked as rough as stone, and as tough as it too. Magra stared at the man in both wonder and exasperation, "No, you need to come with me. We have an old man to find! I have to find out why you''re so damned special to Lyealle!"


    Raja smiled dreamily, "No. The stone tells me this is the way to go. To find the boy. Yes, this is a good plan, my friends."


    Glory looked at Magra with a confused look on his face, "Friends? He does know that we don''t really know each other, right?" Magra shrugged and sighed, walking to follow after, "I''m not sure how you intend to track them back, but I guess I shall follow."


    "Tracking is not a problem, our good friend Andar over there can take care of it easily enough. He lived in the woods for a while, right Andar? Something about elves?"


    Andar''s eyes were flat over the silver mask that obscured the bottom half of his face....the more Orcish side. "Yes. I lived with my Elven side for quite some time. They sent me out to find out what was making the animals of the forest disappear...I suppose I found part of the cause."


    "Then lead the way, my friend." Glory sidestepped, holding a hand outwards, beckoning down the path, "We''re behind you the whole way." The tall man nodded in response, as even the light faded from his eyes. Magra shrugged, rolling her eyes, but readied her mace. Raja seemed to be just as blissful as he was when he fell out of the rock, and that was far, far too blissful.


    Tracking was easy, as the cultists weren''t trying to hide either their trails nor their camps. The number of tents was appalling to see, that this many people would participate in slaughter and unclean acts...


    But the information they had pried out of the cultist proved mostly true. The guard was very light, only a few sentries at the edge of camp, and then two guards standing outside a large tent. The sentries were actually more zombies, not skeletons, but there weren''t many, standing slack-jawed at their posts.


    "What''s the plan, sneak in an-" Glory started to ask in a barely heard whisper, but was interrupted by Andar bursting forth with a roar, glaive swinging at the nearest zombie, cutting it almost in half. The others all started shambling towards him at once, but the two gray robed guards stood still as stone, seeming to watch.


    The surprise, what little there could be with the undead, wore off quickly, and soon, both Glory and Andar were fighting with everything they had to hold back the wave of dead flesh. Magra was standing still, her mace glowing white as she whispered a prayer. The undead hissed back from her in what looked like fright, trying to shield their skin from the light being emitted. Striding forward, she slammed her mace around and yelled, "Come and get some ya undead freaks. Magra will show ye wha'' it really means to die!"


    Raja stood in the farthest back, head cocked to the side as he stared at the gray robed men, "Why do they only watch? Will they continue if attacked, you wonder?"


    Glory looked back over his shoulder for a vital second, almost being brained by a heavy fisted blow, "How about we don''t find out, eh? Got enough here, don''t we?" He dived out of the way, coming up and trying to hamstring the corpse, but the tendons weren''t what was holding it up anymore and he cursed, backpedaling to regain his footing. Raja ignored him, causing a tounge of flame to appear in his hand, sending it flying to splatter against the sentry still standing idly.


    The fire licked hungrily against the gray robes, but the figure underneath stood unfazed. He pushed back his hood and revealed a gaunt face, devoid of any emotion save hunger. His hands ended in long claws that were still covered in dried blood and gore, and his smile revealed teeth sharped to points.


    He leaped from his spot by the tent in a blur, crossing the camp and slashing at Raja, but the claws failed to pierce his stony skin, and Raja responded by hitting the creature with another bolt of fire. The second gray robed still stood next to the tent, looking like he was barely held back from joining the fray.


    The zombies fell quickly under the onslaught, but the gray robed man put up a fight. He was still standing directly in front of Raja when one of the Elf''s blasts blew it to pieces, sending fragments splattering back onto him, gory chunks sticking to the rock easier than normal skin. He froze, his expression stuck in one of disgust and horror.


    No one noticed his dilemma, leaping forward to deal with the last of the gray robes. When they got close, they could hear the rhythmic noise of someone chanting from within the tent, as well as the smell of smoke and burnt flesh. Andar ignored the last of the guards, leaping forward into the tent to stop whatever was happening inside.


    The clawed creature should have run, seeing how it was vastly outnumbered. Instead, it seemed to frenzy itself, flinging itself with abandon into the party members. Inside the tent, Andar was appalled. At the center of the large tent stood the man they had seen shouting at the cultists back at Billy''s house. Burning on the ground at his feet was the stretched out figure of a young boy, so burned and disfigured he was no longer recognizable. Andar knew. The man was chanting something, coming to a crescendo, "I AM TALMION! MY DIVINE WRATH WILL BURN THIS WORLD TO A CINDER!"


    In a rage Andar flung himself forward, his glaive stretching out to catch the man off guard. Something under his foot turned, and he found the thrust slightly off, catching Talmion high in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. Snarling, Talmion looked at him with crazed eyes and twisted his hand, magic flooding Andar''s mind. With a gasp, he fell to his knees, hands clutching at his head.


    Glory somersaulted over his inert companion, his cutlass flicking fast as thought. Talmion couldn''t keep up with his spell casting, all of his efforts going to keep Glory''s blade away with his bone knife.


    Magra grunted, laying a hand on Andar, "Get up ya big oaf. Quit slackin'' thar''s still work to do." Divine energy flowed through her hands and into Andar, his wounds slowly sealing closed and color returning to his cheeks.


    Talmion was busy cackling madly and didn''t notice Glory using the fight to turn him around. He also didn''t notice Andar come slowly to his feet and rush forward, glaive coming around in a loop to take him from underneath. Talmion lifted clear into the air, the expression on his face going from surprise to pain, and then back to madness.


    "I will return!!! This is not the end of Talmion! None can stop me!" Blood started to come forth with each word, and then he slumped, madness still in his expression. From his hands, a knife made of bone and carved with all sorts of runes clattered to the ground, blood dried in every crack.


    "Thank the gods," Glory slumped to the ground, exhausted, sweat mixed with blood and dirt. "That''s it, right? That''s everyone?"


    Magra looked at him in disgust, "We have no idea, ya daft idiot. We''re in the middle of their camp, they can come back at any time. We should clear it, and get out."


    "Ugh. I just want to take a break and get a drink. But fine, there''s work to be done." No one agreed, but everyone knew what he was talking about. Even though the fight was over in minutes, they could feel it in their bones.


    They all walked back into the opening to see Raja still stood frozen, one hand outstretched in his spellcasting while he was recoiling from the blast. "Well shite. What could be wrong with this one?" Magra leaned close to look at it but refused to touch it. Andar had no such compunctions, one finger stretched out to pick at the chunks of flesh. On contact, his skin started to change, an effect they hadn''t noticed with the already stony skin of the dark elf. "By the Balancer, what is this?"


    It spread quickly, and nothing any of them did slowed it. Magra''s magic was useless, and Glory even tried to pour some of the liquid from his fresh flask. Magra didn''t even bother asking what it was, just shrugging and hoping it worked. It didn''t.


    "Well, we should search the place and head out. We can''t touch them, so moving them is impossible. And we are still in danger. I''d say goodbye, and then get out."


    Glory stopped mid-pour, thought for a long second, and then took a deep swig. "You''re not wrong. Damn, I hate leaving people behind. Let''s search quick, someone might already be coming back, and we are severely outnumbered."


    Magra met his eyes and nodded, quietly starting to search. All of the tents were empty of both life and unlife, save one. It was a tent that was only slightly smaller than Talmion''s, and towards the edge of the camp.


    Hanging from the top of the tent was a small, old figure, one that both Magra and Glory recognized. "Galt!" Glory yelled, dashing forward, "What the hell are you doing here?"


    Magra muttered, "Oh, I got a bone to pick with ya, ya old coot."

 New arrivals, cliche side quest

    They rushed to the old man''s side, cutting him down and slowly lowering him to the floor. He was abused, broken, and torn to shreds, with enough blood staining his clothes that you couldn''t tell the original color. The man Glory named Galt was sickly and closer to dead than alive, yet somehow he remained conscious.


    "Yes, yes. The laughing fellow, he dead? Good. I was going crazy listening to that noise. Hyena sounds, yet somehow worse. Thank you, boys. You saved me... I''m not sure how much longer I would have lasted." The old man was stooped, but looked up and smiled wearily.


    "Come, we must get you out of here, there''s plenty of day left. We must be away before we rest, we have no idea where the other cultists are."


    Galt waved his hand, looking just as pleased to remain seated, "Bring me my bag, boy. The white one, somewhere over there." He pointed halfheartedly toward the other side of the tent. While Glory stalked irritatedly over to where he gestured, he continued, "There isn''t any worry now. Talmion was the only concern, the rest will scatter now that his mental control has slipped. The undead will be even worse, I doubt their forms will hold for long. Well, these undead at least." He sighed and took the bag gratefully from Glory.


    As he was rummaging around inside it, Glory walked back over to Magra and spoke softly, "He says we''re safe, and damn it all I believe him. Galt was there for me when things got chancey, I''ll vouch for him." Magra was staring at Glory, then over at Galt, then back at Glory, "Wait, wait wait wait, wait. Ye mean to tell me, that YOU, pirate, know this man? This is the man who told me to go to that damned rock! That there was a treasure of Lyealle''s in there! And all we got was a hippy who''s frozen stone now! Left one rock for another it seems."


    Galt perked up, "Frozen, you say? Some of the ripper get on him?" The man tsked, pulling a book from the knapsack. Glory''s jaw dropped, and he whispered, "I swear, that bag was empty when I picked it up. Even reached inside. What, he might have had medicine!" He defended, his tone hurt from Magra''s accusatory glare.


    Galt waved away their conversation, saying just, "Lead me." Before struggling to his feet. For all of his wounds, he was quite limber on his feet. They held open the tent and the spry old man followed them out into the sun. He squinted, eyes not used to it yet, and leaned close to examine their frozen companions. "Ah yes, just as I thought. I believe I know what you need, too. Let''s see..." He trailed off, flipping through the book, "Aha! There it is! I was right. Damn, I was right."


    "Wait, why is that a bad thing?" Magra asked, rolling her eyes, "You know what it is, tell us so we can go get it."


    He shrugged, mumbling about cliches, "Fine. You must travel to the elven forest, and find a plant with red flowers and four leaves, surrounding a bulb of blue. It only grows on the edge, so you won''t actually be trespassing on the Elven lands. Trust me, you do NOT want to do that. If that one was awake, he''d tell you the same." He nodded towards Andar, still frozen stiff. "Shame. Anyways. Go grab some, and return. But you should probably rest first, you had a long day. The area will be safe for now, I can cast some spells now that I have my bag. An alarm, of course, maybe a gentle steering clear... yes, I know just the thing."


    Glory wanted to argue, and Magra even went so far as to open her mouth, but both of them looked at each other, shrugged, and started to set up their camp anyways. An unspoken agreement between the two of them caused them both to steer clear of anything belonging to these monsters of people, choosing to set up camp themselves. A small fire was crackling, with bedrolls laying next to it. A small camp within a much larger one. They rested, tended their hurts, and tried to get some sleep.


    No one approached the camp, just as Galt had promised. But still, something felt wrong, and sleep did not come swiftly.


    Morning broke but no one felt any better. Except for Galt, it seemed. He was in a cheery mood, even going so far as to make mocking conversation with the two statues, "You guys feeling alright? You must have slept wrong, you look really stiff!" Then roaring with laughter.


    As soon as he saw Glory and Andar up, he sobered slightly, "Good, you''re up. Hold a while, there''s breakfast. There are also a few others going to be joining you... You seem like you need it."


    Glory grumbled, forsaking breakfast for his little brown bottle. Magra helped herself, making a steaming plate of what looked like a roasted rabbit and some scrambled bird eggs. "Mighty fine spread, sir. Mighty fine. Do you happen to have any chilled milk? No? It''s fine, I''m sure I''ll survive."


    Glory glared at the spoiled dwarf, "Thank you for making breakfast. What did you mean by we were going to be joined? Did you send for help?"


    "In a way, I suppose. But yes, there will be two more joining you. To make up for the ones you lost while rescuing me." Glory started to say something about how they didn''t even know he was there, when Magra elbowed him in the side, "Of course, that makes perfect sense. I look forward to meeting whoever you found. I''m sure they won''t hold us back too much." Her voice sounded sincere, though Glory thought he sensed a little suspicion around the edges.


    Galt smiled but said nothing, satisfied to wait. They weren''t forced to wait long before they could hear the approach of a couple people approaching. Glory pulled his sword just far out of his scabbard to make sure it was clear, even knowing they were going to be joined by someone. Old habits died hard.


    Two figures appeared at the edge of the campsite, one looking around suspiciously while the other frolicked to and fro, like a kid going on an adventure, "I feel great, Lana! You think we''re in the right place? It was kind of a cryptic message, I might have gotten it wrong."


    The more serious of the two smiled, transforming from dour to beautiful. "No, Wally, I''m certain you deciphered it right. You''re one of the smartest people I know! If you couldn''t figure it out, I don''t think anyone could!"


    The smaller, red-figure turned an even darker shade of red, though the grin on his face got a little bit wider.


    "Goblin," hissed Magra, her eyes turning flat and her mace clutched tightly. Glory was about to draw his sword when Galt raised a hand, "Peace. They are friends, and the goblin the kindest soul you''ll ever meet. Thank the gods that one as bright as he wasn''t turned towards a darker path. You''ll be lucky to have him on your team, so behave yourselves."


    Magra let go of her mace but held her face in a stern expression, "Nay. I will be no friend of a goblin, of that I am dreadfully sure. But I won''t raise a hand against him until he falls prey to his nature. Then we shall see where the dice fall."


    Galt shrugged before looking hard at Glory, waiting until he let go of his cutlass to speak, "Welcome, Lana, Wally. I''m glad to see you could make it on such short notice."


    "Uh, Galt, you told us weeks ago. We''ve been sitting around waiting for almost a week and Wally has been dying to explore."


    The goblin, Wally, wiggled a little sort of dance, "I can''t help it, Lana! I feel great! I haven''t felt this good in a while!" His face turned serious, "Plus, it''s a chance to learn more about my magic, and become more powerful. If I can only keep the other goblins still long enough, I''m sure I can convince them that they can be good. If I can be good, so can they."


    "I know, Wally. I believe in you. And I''ll protect you no matter what. You know that." A long silence was punctured by Glory yawning loudly, "Well, I think it''s about that time. Gotta get up and along the way." He grumbled, "Sappy shit" and hustled Magra into packing her things.


    Galt pointed them towards the Elven forest, and bid them farewell, standing between their two frozen friends and looking just as much like one of them himself. Glory sighed as he realized Magra wasn''t planning on breaking the silence, "So, Lana is it? How do you two know old Galt? Didn''t realize he got around that often."


    Wally hurried to answer, cutting Lana off, "He was a storyteller at our village. Told all the best stories, and even gave me my first spell!" He punctuated the statement with a blast of fire shooting from his fingertips, leaving a scorch mark on a nearby tent. The flame licked at the canvas, but couldn''t seem to catch hold.


    Glory raised an eyebrow, and even Magra looked suitably impressed, "Wow. Now that will come in handy! Eh, Magra? Dead things hate fire, right?"


    Magra looked at him and shrugged, "I prefer my fire when it comes to dead things. Since it''s holy and all." Flame-like radiance blossomed around Wally, singeing his skin and sending him skipping along, "Ow, ow, ow!"


    "Magra! That is so not cool!" Magra shrugged nonchalantly and started walking to the east. After a few long moments, the rest started after, albeit a few paces behind her.


    "Is she always like that?" Lana asked tersely, staring daggers at Magra''s back.


    "To be honest, I have no idea. I just met the lady a couple days ago. She might really hate goblins. I don''t, however, and am happy you''re with us. We haven''t had the best of luck lately. Either one of you good with things that ought to be dead, but ain''t?"


    Lana relaxed slightly, looking away from Magra long enough to meet Glory''s eyes, "Yes, I am quite familiar and very capable of dealing with the damned. My diety guides me." She made the symbol of order, hands cupped in a circle in front of her forehead, then repeated in front of her heart.


    "Excellent. The nasty buggers have really been getting under my skin lately. Anything you can do to help would be great. Don''t be surprised if something pops up." His words were punctuated by the sound of a hyena''s laugh, shrill in the forest air. It echoed around the trees before fading.


    "I will also deal with any other threats that occur to my friend. He was placed under my care by his mother, and I love her far too dearly to betray her trust." Lana spoke seriously, though for a second her eyes flicked to the back of the dwarf leading the way.


    "I''ll talk to her, don''t worry about it. I''ll make sure nothing happens to the little bugger... How old is he, did you say? Looks a little young to be an adventurer."


    Wally smiled, "I may be tiny, but I''m already working on my first spell! I''ve been working on it for a little while, but it''s missing something. Not sure what, but someday I''ll have my first spell!! Czar ''Taaks Orb!"


    Glory looked blankly at him, "Sar what now? What''s that supposed to be, your sire''s name? By the gods, I feel for the poor fellow. Can you imagine? I shudder at the thought." He took a swig and shuddered, though, from the thought, or the alcohol, none could tell.


    Magra overheard and laughed loudly from the front, while Wally continued on as if uninterrupted, "Czar ''Taak was a great red dragon, that ruled as almost a god over goblinkind for so long that no one know''s anything from before his reign. Only during and after. His lair was in the middle of a volcano, and he bathed in lava and so I thought that maybe I could do a spell that used lava and name it after him since he was so fearsome and powerful and I want to be like that someday too." He finally ran out of breath and panted, struggling to breathe while also keeping up. Glory shortened his pace a tad out of pity, "Oh. Sounds like a good plan... hopefully it works out for you!" He turned back to the front and muttered, "Kids these days."


    "Yes, well, you never did tell us what you were doing out here. Kind of an odd camp for so few people, plus you guys look pretty banged up. What exactly happened?" Lana changed the subject, latching on to the only other topic worth talking about.


    "There was a guy who called himself Talmion. Was running around raising the dead and....he kidnapped a kid from a farmhouse. We found out about it and ended up getting caught up trying to save the boy. The monster- well, he sacrificed him....we followed as quickly as we could but we were too late. Andar took it kinda hard before he...you know, got stiff."


    "Wait, Talmion? The demon? He can''t be here, there''s no reason he would have left his plane. The Lords wouldn''t have let him, too easy to gain power here."


    "That''s what he called himself. Looked like a person to me though, and he went down easily enough. So maybe just a wannabe?" Glory shrugged, "He had a LOT of dead things following him though, we fought a dozen or so so far, and that''s just what was left at the camp you found us at. You know about demons?"


    Lana nodded, her face serious as always, "Yes, I studied them a little bit. They are the absolute balance to our gods, seven supreme beings called Demon Lords that rule the Fallen Planes. Each Lord has a plane to himself, Talmion was one of the high generals. Basically the equivalent to an Archangel. I''ve heard stories of the things he''s done..."


    "Well, let''s just hope it was a crazy guy and leave it at that, shall we? Too much to do, there''s probably still some cultists running around all crazy like. Just keep an eye open, will ya?" Glory asked and waited for her to nod, then sped up to have a word with Magra. What he said couldn''t be heard, but Wally smiled, "I like him. Even if he drinks an awful lot. How''s that thing of his never run out, you think?"


    Lana smiled back, "Oh, I''m not sure. Magic maybe? Or maybe sleight of hand, he seems to be halfway decent at that. Maybe we just don''t see him refilling it."


    Wally shrugged, then pulled out his spellbook and started to read while walking. Lana almost reprimanded him for it, but stopped at the last second and just decided to watch his step for him. It was gonna be a long day.


    The long day turned into a couple, with the party settling down into a parse routine. Wally would always be muttering long into the night in front of his spellbook, and during his watch, he was ever vigilant to use his magic on someone. The opportunity never came for him, but it didn''t daunt his enthusiasm one bit.


    Magra slowly warmed to the two, or at least, stopped making death threats under her breath. She even offered Wally some burnt rabbit that Glory had managed to catch. It was a halfway decent three days. But just a day away from the forest, that peacefulness was broken.


    Their way forward was blocked by a group of bandits, led by a brute of a man, bristling in studded leather and shortswords. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? A boy and his nanny? Maybe the fun uncle and single mom? Where''s the dad..... more importantly, what''s the dad?" The men laughed uproariously, the unshaven leader looking smug, "No matter. Just hand over all your gold, and we won''t have to worry about anything. Fair? Come now, don''t be shy. Part of me wants ya not to behave." He eyed both Lana and Magra appreciatively, "Always wondered how well you short gals were. Hardy endurance and all that."


    Magra bristled and Lana drew her longsword, her armor creaking. "You do not want to fight us. We will defend ourselves."


    The men all looked at her seriously for a second before roaring with laughter again, "Didja hear her?" One of the men in the back asked, "We dinnae want to fight them. I''m itchin'' for a fight!"


    The leader grinned and was about to speak when Glory lunged across the dividing space, faster than you could blink. His cutlass out, he skewered the man through the stomach, twisting the blade and stepping aside, pulling it free.


    The man was somehow still standing and managed to draw his shortsword and make a feeble overhand swing, which Glory parried aside easily. Lana stepped in and her longsword finished the job, separating the man''s head from the rest of him. She grudgingly nodded at Glory, before turning to face another bandit.


    Nothing was sweeter than battle, and Wally finally got to unleash some of his spells. Bolts of fire went this way and that, and one guy was doused in a rain of acid, searing away his flesh. What few wounds the party suffered, Magra was able to soothe. After healing Wally, she spoke, "Listen... I was wrong wit'' ye. I see it now. I figured you were just some cook of the old man''s, like the rock. But you really helped save our asses. So, my thanks."


    Wally grinned, wider than ever and threw his head back, "I feel great!!!" He called to Lana, and she waved wearily in return. Too bad their spells couldn''t cure that.


    "How about a break, here?" Glory panted, a few cuts still showing on his arms and cheek, "I think here''s as good a place as any, they''re all dead."


    "But don''t you think that''s a bit... morbid?" Wally asked, nervously looking around at the corpses.


    "They won''t be any more dead in an hour or two than they are now. Plus, they probably had a little camp around here. Shouldn''t be too hard to find it." And find it they did, in a small clearing just off the main path. It was shabby but suitable, and they all relaxed and drank their fill of clean water. There was even some stale bread and leftover stew that had...rabbit? Hopefully.


    But the rest was over all too soon. They struggled to their feet and forced themselves to a slow trot. There was a lot of land they could cover before night, and they intended to do it. Fresh resolve burned a new fire in their muscles, and gradually, their speed increased. At one point, they were at a full out sprint, charging recklessly ahead into the coming night.


    They stumbled to a stop just as the sun was sinking over a vast forest of ancient trees. There, scattered here and there along the fringe of the truly dense forest, were the flowers, just as Galt had described.


    They all relaxed, relieved that they had at least made it here. Wally was picking a flower when something made him look up. About ten feet away stood a beautiful wolf, with fur the color of amber. Her eyes shone brightly, and for half a second, her tongue lolled out in what looked like a laugh.


    Wally panicked, throwing his hand out in a spastic symbol; acid was sent flying out onto the wolf. Immediately after, an enraged voice cried out, "What, in all that you pray to, do you think you are doing? How dare you come here and attack our people?" The person behind the wrathful voice was a young elf, his features hardened into sharp lines. He looked terrifying, appearing as if from nowhere. "Explain yourselves, before we bring you down where you stand."


    Lana looked over and saw how stricken both the wolf and Wally looked, and called out, "I''m so sorry! It was a misunderstanding! I can heal the wolf if she will let me!" The elf hesitated for a moment, looking at the wolf steadily. Finally, he nodded, "Be quick. I will be watching you." Lana hurried over, healing magic flowing through her as she focused on her holy symbol. The gear of Order, by which all things were bound. That order flowed through her veins and powered her magic. Pure order, healing a little of the chaos in the wolf.


    Soon she was no longer panting pained or whimpering. In fact, aside from the missing fur, she looked as good as new. The elf inspected her closely before nodding his thanks, "You speak of misunderstanding? What brings you here, to our home? Speak quickly"


    Magra took over, speaking in her deep dwarven voice, "We came for the flowers, and nothing more. As a cure for our friends, lying afflicted of foul magic a few days hence. Our little wizard panicked, probably having never seen a wolf before, let alone one that lived in the elven woods. We should have been more vigilant, and I know we still owe her an apology. If she has need of anything, it is hers."


    Finally, the Elf''s face broke into one of grudging respect. This was one who knew of honor and how repayment worked. His head cocked to the side, and while words could be heard, nothing was understood of what the Elf said to the wolf.


    Finally, he looked back at them and shrugged, "Take her with you. That''s all she asks. There is something among you that pulls on her, and she feels she must go. And we will not stop her if you grant it."


    Magra looked back at Glory, who was looking like a boy on New Saint''s day, getting a puppy for the first time. Lana shrugged, seeing the wolf as a noble creature, and worthy companion. "But of course, if that''s what she desires. We go often into dangerous situations, and I''m not sure how long it will take us to finish our journey."


    The Elf shrugged, a wry smile finally appearing on his face, "What is time to a wolf? And I''m sure she can take care of herself. No more acid though, right?"


    Wally had the decency to look ashamed, but he shot a look at Magra, "I thought that''s how we greeted new people, throwing magic at them." Magra blushed and looked anywhere but the young goblin, clapping her hands together, "Now, we must be off. Time is wasting, and we can''t be sure that whatever happened to them isn''t getting worse as we stand around here blathering."


    They gathered up handfuls of the plants, their new friend watching them with her tongue hanging out. The Elf disappeared, back to wherever he came from. Glory kept looking closely at the trees, trying to find some trace of him or anyone else in the forest but had no luck. "I think we really dodged something there. By the gods that was creepy."


    They hurried back, making the return trip with no other misdoings, though at times they had to hide from large parties of cultists still traveling about. A few of them had those oily black wands that Glory still had in his pack. They steered clear of those encounters, knowing that they couldn''t risk not making it back.


    Galt was sitting in the same place, reading from his little white book. Glory looked over his shoulder once and saw it written in a language he couldn''t understand. He mashed up the plants into a paste and started to spread it all over the two frozen bodies, "A little help would be nice."


    Magra grumbled, dipping a hand in the paste, "Yeah, not like we went and got it or anything. You think this is the hard part?"


    The watched as the magic leeched out of their friend''s bodies and color finally returned. Both were still unconscious, but at least they were flesh and blood again and breathing once more.


    "Alright, old man, you have some explaining to do," Magra turned to where Galt had been sitting but the man was gone. "Damn him!" She cursed, unheard by the others who were getting ready to turn in again.


    "Magra, if you like, you can come with us back to Ingran and we can sell some of this loot we''ve picked up."


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.The thought of coin perked the young dwarf up instantly and she began to hum while they worked.

 What in the Blazes...?

    "Andar, nice to see you again!" Glory clapped the half-orc on the shoulder and sat next to him, offering a bowl of steaming stew. It wasn''t the best but with the help of Lana, they were able to make a passable meal. Andar accepted it gratefully and began to wolf it down.


    "I know the Old Walker said I could have survived forever in that state, I feel like I was being starved the entire time. I could eat a horse..." Andar started to look around, perhaps in the vain hopethat he would see something.


    "Nay, you would not be eating any horses at this time, my good sir. A nice pack mount would be excellent right about now." Magra gestured to a pile of loot she had been stockpiling, swords, a few sets of leathers not too far gone and other assorted gear. In the pile were three of the black wands, one being the one Glory had been carrying. He had relinquished it happily, "A weight off my shoulders, for sure."


    They were identical in all ways, both shape, feel, and thrumming energy. The only difference was the band of color around each wand: blue, green, and red. The only thing anyone had seen them used for was the blue when it raised the dead corpses back to life. None of their attempts to use it bore any fruit, and since Galt had left before they pulled them out, they couldn''t very well ask him his opinions.


    Glory shrugged, picking at a bowl himself halfheartedly, "So, Andar. You never mentioned how you know the old man. Magra met him on the road, he told stories to the kid and Lana. And I knew the man as a harsh city official... always gouged us on fees and skimmed the top for himself, though he was also willing to overlook some...less reputable goods for extra coin. Strange set of things to be good at."


    Andar nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, odd indeed. I did not know much about him, as I was not the most outgoing in my hometown. But he was typically referred to as the Old Walker, for he is the oldest man we know of, and he alone could walk the forests at will. He left us be, though at times would find a river laden with gold and request to pan it. The Elves always granted it, as he was fair to the land and took care of its needs. He has been doing it since...before I was born. He''s never changed. Even our Elder spoke warily of him, more so than most, in fact."


    "Spooky." Magra broke the long second of silence, "But anyways. On to more important matters. Since we don''t have a pack horse, we all need to carry some. Come now, each person must carry their fair share. Gotta make the money somehow!" She clapped her hands and started hefting up the sets of leather armor. "These might fetch a few pennies, enough to get a place to stay a few days once we get to town. Worth the hassle, trust me."


    Everyone groaned, but nothing was left behind, even the smallest dagger slipped behind Glory''s belt. "It''s been far too long since I had a good nights sleep in an actual bed. And I can resupply!" He gave his little bottle a shake and seemed to be listening, "I''m getting awful low."


    Magra looked askance at him, "I always wondered, what is inside that little bottle? I''ve seen you down them like water, though it only seems to affect you a little. Is it a cheap wine, perhaps?"


    Glory grinned back at her and shifted his pack higher on his shoulders, "Now that is an excellent question, my dear. How about we come back to it sometime? You can always just have a taste for yourself..." He held out the bottle, grinning a challenge. Magra was never one to back down, so she grabbed the swill and downed it in a quick long pull.


    The fire that burned her throat left her sputtering and coughing, "You drink this all the time? Blast ye do ya have a death wish or somethin''? By the gods, I''ve never had anything like that in me life, and I''m a bloody dwarf!"


    Glory chuckled and took a drag himself, smacking his lips in delight, "It''s of me own design. Brewed at sea with sea water, and distilled no less than eleven times. Stuff will make hair grow on a rock, or I''ll shave off all mine!"


    Magra roared with laughter, a glint in her eye, "I''ll take that bet, I think! I wouldn''t mind seeing your pompous ass without hair!"


    Glory shrugged, uncapped his bottle, and began to pour it, but halted at the last moment, "But what do I get in return for this glorious feat? Perhaps just one shiny gold coin?"


    Magra scoffed and started to flip a coin in the air idly, the dim light glinting off it, "Go right ahead. Grow hair on a rock, and the coin is yours."


    Glory continued to pour the liquor onto the rock, and where it splashed, tufts appeared. They lengthened to about two inches before stopping, a glorious mane of hair, for a rock. Glory stooped and gripped it by the hair, spinning it idly. "That bit was a spell I have cast on every batch, just for cases like this. Time to pay up, lass." Magra hurled the coin at his feet and huffed off, muttering curses under her breath. Andar smiled idly, "Never shit a shitter. Doesn''t ever work out well." Glory bowed theatrically and grinned wryly, "My mother always said, never think you''re the smartest. Cuz it''ll always bite ya in the ass. She was a nasty woman.... man, I miss her sorely."


    Andar grunted, and looked at their newest companion, the wolf, "Speaking of old acquaintances. I see you all went to the Elven lands without me. But I suppose I must forgive you, as you did bring back my dearest of friends." He stooped low and held out a hand, the wolf darting forward eagerly. "Yes, I have missed you as well, my friend. She was the only one who accepted me, truly, back home. Maybe because no one truly accepted her either."


    "Then I''m doubly sorry for what I did to her. Please, extend my most sincere apologies. I feared for myself and the others and acted too hastily. The greatest crime is the harm of a friend." Wally stood abashed, his hands wringing together endlessly. The wolf padded over and sniffed his hands, then sat and regarded his tears for a long moment. She broke the tension with a tentative lick, swiping at one of the tears. Then a more joyous greeting as she started to lick every inch of his exposed face.


    Andar laughed, "It appears she has forgiven you. And any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Welcome to the group, Sir Wallace. It will be a pleasure to fight at your side."


    The journey back was smooth, though it was a wasteland. Andar personally set out to find the few places they would normally find people,but there was only massacres and devastation remaining. They saw a handful of people returning to what was left of their homes and start to try to rebuild their lives, but it wasn''t nearly enough. There weren''t even bandits around to trouble their travels, so barren was the land and it''s people.


    "Most of this is new." Magra mused, looking at the still smoldering remains of yet another farm, "It happened so quickly. How much was from Talmion and how much was from his loss of control?"


    Lana bit her lip, thinking of her learning of the undead. It wasn''t a lot but she knew a thing or two, "When he died, they would have begun to wander. They would be a lot less dangerous... but still a danger to these people. We should also tread carefully."


    The capital was less subdued, the markets still filled with people, however. The damage hadn''t reached this far yet, though it would be nipping at their heels. Glory, Wally, and Lana all went to find an inn to stay at while Magra led the others to the blacksmith, where she bargained with the man for all the spare gear they had gathered. It wasn''t worth much, but her bargaining skills got her about a hundred gold. "Enough for an extended stay, I do say so myself! Eh, guys?"


    They all clapped, except for Raja. He stood, one hand clasped in front of his chest, "How much for this chest piece, my good man?"


    The blacksmith wiped his hands on a soot-stained rag and walked around the counter, "Oh, that piece? Man, that one was a beauty to make, and I doubt I''ll ever make another of the same. It''s also my only piece for that kind, so it''s expensive. It''ll run you about four hundred gold pieces..."


    Raja nodded, "I can''t say I blame you, sir, it''s an absolutely beautiful piece of work. Best I''ve seen in a long while, so congratulations on that. Alas, I will be unable to buy it... but my, it''s a beauty."


    The man smiled and nodded his thanks, and then looked back at the main doorway, "Well, it probably won''t sell here. Not many have that much to drop, and the ones who do don''t always come here. It was mainly a test for myself... I''ll let it go for a hundred and fifty. It''ll make me what I put into it, and have a nice home."


    Raja smiled, his hand tightening around something under his shirt, "Most excellent sir. I cannot thank you..." Raja trailed off as his hand met nothing when searching for his purse, "Oh, how odd. Seems I lost my purse." He shrugged and waved his hand, muttering, "Sleep."


    The bartender fell flat on his face, instantly snoring. Raja began to try on his new chest piece, and he looked at Andar with glowing eyes, one hand pressed against his chest, "Find his money." As soon as the armor was fitted tightly, Raja muttered and it vanished, leaving him still standing in his robes.


    Andar nodded slowly, going behind the counter, "There is a safe here. Looks easy to open." Magra stepped back and shook her head vehemently, not noticing the Elf''s eyes, "Nu-uh, I ain''t doin'' this. Yer both on yer own."


    She all but ran out of the store, leaving behind the two thieves. Raja shrugged and turned back to his charmed half-orc, "Open it. I will dress the man in these cultist robes in case they wondered. It will all be well."


    Andar nodded stiffly and bent to fiddle with the safe. Raja hurriedly dressed the sleeping man in cultist robes, and then turned, a little madness dancing with the anger in his eyes, "What is taking you so long? It should be done by now!"


    Andar looked up from his task with a slackened expression, "It is locked, but there seems to be no keyhole." Raja looked at him dully, "Then use your glaive for something useful, nitwit. Open it, and then return outside. You will remember none of what happened here in this tent."


    "Yes, sire." His glaive slammed down onto the top of the small safe with a crash, wood splintering instantly. Before they could blink, however, the safe exploded in flames, tounges of fire licking out at the counter and the wooden hafts of the weapons against the walls. It was dry as kindling and went up as such. Andar himself was singed, though Raja escaped the brunt of the flames.


    They both stumbled out of the shop now filling with smoke and heard coughing behind them. As the blacksmith appeared in the doorway, Raja called out to Andar one last command, "Stop him! Cultist!"


    Andar stepped forward and lifted his foot, planting it square in the middle of the poor man''s chest, crumpling him and sending him flying back into the flames. The blacksmith didn''t appear again, and the flames quickly began to consume the entire building. Lines of people carrying buckets of both sand and water appeared as fast as the call, "Fire!" went up, and they were able to contain the flames to only the blacksmith and building next to it; a bakers hut. The smell of burning loaves and wheat began to fill the air as well as cries and shouts.


    Guards began to show up, setting to questioning everyone. Fingers were soon pointing the way of the adventurer''s and they stalked over, "Hey, you all. Told you were in the building over there when it went up, and even kicked a man. Mind telling me what happened before I just throw you in gaol for the hell of it? Been a slow day, could use some fun." He spat onto the road and looked at them expectantly.


    Raja stepped forward, demeanor back to normal, "Why of course, good sir. Anything to help you in your investigation. We were, in fact, in the building, intent on purchasing new goods from the local smithy. An upgrade would be nice," He gestured at his armorless form and old, chipped swords before continuing, "But when we found ourselves inside, the man was wearing these oddly colored robes and muttering about some sacrifice. The moment he saw us, he attacked, saying we would do. In fact, I''m certain they were the same robes as the men attacking the countryside, here, in our own city! I acted as quickly as I could to save our lives, but in my haste threw the fire wide and set the shop ablaze. I would be more than happy to pay off the damages to the baker, it was my fault his hut burned." His face was one of absolute contrition, and the guard relaxed a bit.


    "By the gods, I thought the cultists were just a rumor. Making the dead walk, razing the farms around here. I''m glad to hear no one innocent was hurt, however. Plus, I didn''t really want to fight your friend, he''s quite a bit more imposing up close." He looked askance at Andar, face still half covered by his silver mask. "Is that what you say happened...sir?"


    Andar stood, a blank expression on his face. He turned woodenly to Raja, whose confidence swayed as he realized his spell was wearing off, and spoke, "No... You dressed the blacksmith, didn''t you? And then I smashed the safe.. The fire..." His eyes began to glaze again as Raja reaffirmed his will on the charm, but it was already too late. The guard ripped out his sword and yelled, attracting the rest.


    Raja snarled a command at Andar to defend him, and turned and ran while the guards tried their best to hold off a charmed half-orc going berserk. It took every guard they could summon but even then, by the time Andar was pinned down, four men were unmoving on the ground.


    Magra looked on from the crowd, "Well, shite... Guess I''ll go tell the others. God''s blast him, what has gotten into the man! And where did Raja go? I am NOT getting paid enough for this." With that, she stalked off muttering, searching for the others.

 The Casting of Bones

    "He did what now?" Lana thundered, her voice echoing through the suddenly quiet common room. Her and Glory had managed to find a modest inn at a decent price and settled in to wait for the others. Wally immediately stuck his nose in his book and began muttering to himself.


    "Volcanic rock? That might just be the answer... it isn''t simple fire, after all." He was unphased by Magra''s news of the others, too caught up in his work.


    Glory winced from behind his mug, "That''s a whole lot of shite. What are we supposed to do about it?"


    They all fell silent, and in time, the common room returned to normal. Lana finally broke the silence, "We can go to the King and explain. He must hear from his people at some point, he is well-liked by most folk. Even back home in the Snowcap, we hear about the Kingdom of Ingran and all its glories."


    Magra shrugged and ordered a drink, counting the coins in her purse with a look of regret, "I can go to the church of Lyealle and ask there for guidance. Maybe the Goddess can guide our path. It would be best to go in the morning, however." She counted her coins again, "And of course there''s the offering to make. I hope this is all worth it and Andar isn''t just a crazy half-orc doomed to savagery. Do we even need him?"


    Lana glared and Wally finally looked up, "Hey, let''s all be friends, okay? We started this together and Galt said we should stay together. And I say we listen to him. It''s only because of him we all got to meet in the first place."


    Lana finally smiled, nodding with one hand on Wally''s shoulder, "He''s right. We need to stick together. So we will do what we can tomorrow, with the light of a new day on the problem. The rooms are already paid for, with plain fare to break our fast in the morning. I, for one, am turning in. Wally, it''s time to go to bed. Put the book up, there''s time for that tomorrow."


    Wally looked up, stricken, "But, I''m so close to figuring something out. I''ll only be up a little longer, promise." Lana stared at him until he blushed, his red skin turning an even darker red. He stood and mumbled about feeling tired anyway and closed his book with a sigh.


    Glory shrugged and tossed the serving girl another silver and motioned for another drink. He watched her walk away, hips swaying. Right before she walked out of view, she looked back over her shoulder and winked at him, eliciting a small cheer and a hiccup from the tipsy pirate.


    Magra looked at her drinking companion and shrugged, ordering an ale of her own. "Might as well get something useful done tonight."


    Magra pulled at her collar and winced. Might be time to get a clothing upgrade. The traveling clothes just weren''t doing the job.


    The temple was busy, with people coming and going to do their early morning prayers and offerings. It was also the best time to go to get spellcasting done, as most of the priests hadn''t had time to use all their spells for the day.


    "Good morning, welcome to the temple of Lyaelle. I see by your robes that you''re also a follower of the faith. What can I do for you today? Are you here for basic worship?" A robed figure stepped forward, his hair cropped short and every finger sparkled with rings. Most priests took vows of poverty, though the followers of the Goddess of Wealth didn''t need to worry about those things.


    "Actually, no." Magra spoke smoothly, letting go of her irritation with her collar, "I''m actually here to see if I could use your temples services for spellcasting." She pulled a couple of platinum coins from her small coin purse, internally wincing at the loss. She had stopped at a moneylender earlier but didn''t have time to actually talk to them. The coin changer had mentioned something about a bank account she could open, though, which was certainly on the list of things to do.


    The priest''s demeanor instantly changed to one much friendlier, and he laid a hand on her arm, "Well, of course, we would be happy to help. What can the Goddess do for you today?" The coins disappeared in a flash so fast that Magra could have sworn she could still feel the weight in her empty palm.


    "I''m looking for communion with the Goddess. I have the capability but lack the materials. Any assistance would be much appreciated."


    "We have just the thing to help you. If you''ll just follow me, I can lead you back to where we cast that particular spell. You''re lucky to have gotten here so early, we were almost out of the lower level spells for the day."


    Magra sighed inwardly. Thank the Goddess, otherwise, this would have been a real pain. Anyone else would be fooled, though Magra heard the real words behind what the man said, "All the cheap low level spells for the day." There was always a cleric of the Goddess willing to spend personal slots for a quick coin.


    Magra followed the priest into a back room, making his way deeper and deeper into the temple. The press of the noise from the day began to diminish, though Magra could still hear the sound of the few worshipers who felt that by being loud, the Goddess would be more likely to hear them. It rarely worked, though when it did they used that as proof of their theories.


    ''Fools,'' Magra thought, ''Don''t they know it''s the sound of coins that attracts the Goddess'' attention?''


    The room they walked in was small, with an old woman sitting on a small cushion. Her robes were clean, crisp, and obviously OLD. It looked as if she hadn''t moved from that spot in a century. Magra turned to thank her guide but he was already gone.


    Instead, she bowed to the woman, "Greetings, blessed one. I have come for guidance from the Goddess, in regards to a decision my group must make later today."


    The woman''s face never changed, though she intoned in a deep voice, "My child, what questions do you have for our mother? Ask, and the bones shall lead thee true."


    "Ehrm.." Magra scuffed her foot and cursed silently, "Later today, my companions and I would meet with the King. Will this lead to freeing our companion from being falsely imprisoned?"


    The priestess nodded, her eyes closed as she communed with the Goddess. It looked almost idle, the way she let go of the bones. She didn''t even throw them, just let them slip from limp fingers. They rattled across the table for a near impossible amount of time, until they settled. Without even opening her eyes, the lady spoke, "Our mother tells me your chances are strong for favorable outcomes. She bids thee jump upon this opportunity. Did you need anything else?"


    Magra regained her professional composure, though on the inside she was practically dancing with glee, "No, blessed one. That will be all. Thank you, and many praises upon the Goddess of Luck."


    The crone waved her hand in a clearly dismissive gesture. Magra shuffled quickly out and hurried back to their inn to tell the others. Time to stand in line to talk to the King... "And then, to the bank!"