The Day of Ice :::::::::::::: by Referee Editor: Referee IV Contributor: Referee IX Copyright (C) 1990 Visions of Reality / *--||------------> \ Sparkling in the morning twilight as the moon and stars slowly begin to make way for the imminent arrival of the sun, thin crystals of ice continue forming as they had been the entire night. The panes of windows, gutters, pet dishes and rain barrels; it all freezes this night. The night guard, one who is known for sleeping on duty, enjoyed no sleep this night for the sound of exploding rain barrels as ice filled them woke even the soundest of sleepers. Though no one stayed awake for long... a cold stone or wood floor and the deep chill of a late winter freeze in their room can keep anyone in bed. Crystals of ice form, and in some places the formations are different. The usually flowing brook in the Mithril Park is stilled in a sculptured masterpiece of convoluted ice; the Deserted Ruins are laden with deadly daggers. The Twisted Dagger does not escape the forming ice in the least bit, though the ice that forms on those boards is green. It is still early in the darkness when a shout of confusion breaks the silence in the vicinity of the Twisted Dagger. The Gatekeeper, a round old man with a grizzled look half covered by a scruffy beard, seems to have been slightly startled by something, evident by the way he screams and jumps just outside the Twisted Dagger's door. "Green ale my red knuckle!" he shouts at no one in particular. "There's no way the Inn gets ice on it, especially green ice!" The time is one and a half hours before sunrise. Not many listen to him even if for some reason he did make sense. The very few who do listen to his ramblings, though, shuffle out of the Inn. A few travelers and adventurers, and perhaps the infrequent brave soul who ventures to rent a room with these types. One of the above is Lanoi d'Log Fotraeh, an elf by nature, a survivor by nurture. In a sort of elven nonchalant way he wanders out and holds his sword high. "Gatekeeper! Do you have any idea of what time it is?" The Gatekeeper does not reply for he still banters about the green ice, still forming upon the Inn. "It's not time to be running around in the freeze complaining about a little ice!" Lanoi is not angry, though, just annoyed. He glances at his sword which seems to be glowing faintly blue and says, "Anyway. Whatever it is won't be here for another half a day. My sword's been like this for three days now." The Gatekeeper stops suddenly and slowly looks at Lanoi. "You've known about this for three days and haven't said anything??" Lanoi sheathes his sword and says, "Well, I didn't see any particular reason to alarm anyone about this... I'm going back to sleep for a while and then I'll help you worry about it." In the early twilight the Gatekeeper is shrouded by the mist of his own breath, a spectre of worry and confusion, and faintly, in the mist, he smiles at the thought of a bit more sleep and wanders into the Inn after Lanoi, only taking three or so worried looks towards the greenish ice quietly forming upon the Inn before closing the door behind him. / *--||------------> \ Morning is cold today; not only did it wake up on the wrong side, it slept in the wrong bed. So cold a face has never a husband seen on a wife as is this morning. The sun is cold, at least in Edgekeep, and though it doesn't have a lot to do with the cold of morning, its attitude toward the whole thing suggests that it doesn't really care all that much. Somewhere up near the northeast part of Edgekeep, past the ruins of an (allegedly) abandoned ancient temple and through an asylum called the Gov's Croquet Ground, up North Gate Road almost to the gate and then east on Barley Row for a block or so, a sense of uneasiness seems to permeate the air. And, even more oddly, it seems to have a direction attached to it; if one were to follow that uneasiness a bit farther east and then look around, a most prominent building will come into view. The Edgekeep Stables. Continuing your exploration would bring you to the stable yard, and the source of the uneasiness. A figure a bit larger than the average figure, wearing a plain brown robe, and pacing back and forth. A figure watching concernedly as the ice coats and thickens on the neighbors' property, waving his arms and melting it with an unseen heat when it dares to encroach on his own grounds. The figure finally stops, looks up at the dark sky and the slowly fading lights of the stars, and has the look of decision upon him. After a few moments a stable hand, with the confused look of someone who has been woke up from someplace warm, runs up to the figure, unsteadily regaining his grip on the world of being awake. The figure cloaked in brown says, <> The figure reaches into his cloak and removes a small black wand, handing it to the stable hand. <> Before the stable hand has a chance to reply, the brown-cloaked figure strides off into the street very urgently. / *--||------------> \ In another section of town, west on Barley Road from the stables and south on Goblin Row, lies the Wizards' Guild. Those within are quite sensible in that they do not generally wake until the sun has decided to show itself. This morning is a bit different, unless you fail to notice the brown-cloaked and hooded figure quickly walking up to the guild's doors, and then walking through them as if they were not there. Inside the Wizards' Guild one finds the most interesting objects. Tomes of powerful runes, balls made of different crystals, wands piled neatly on low- lying tables, staves leaning in the corner. Magic here is nothing overtly strange, it seems. The cloaked figure doesn't notice any of this. He stands in the adorned entry room, apparently waiting for someone. He is not surprised when a brown-haired woman cloaked in blue shimmers into existence in front of him. She does not look happy, but then, neither does the figure cloaked in brown. "Phaedrus!" She says, with just a hint of anger in her voice, "This is the wizards' guild! You're not supposed to just stroll in here like it's the Falling Tower or something." The figure in brown stands silent, letting her finish. "Then, after you just walked in, right through the doors we have special locks on (probably breaking them in the process), you have the nerve to wake me up in the middle of a very nice dream I was getting into about a place where all they have are wizards." She smiles at that thought. "Now, this had better be good." She crosses her arms and waits for Phaedrus. Phaedrus simply says, <> She closes her eyes for a brief moment of concentration, and then replies, "Yeah. So what?" Phaedrus has the look of one who is thinking. <> he says. <> Dragon Queen concentrates for another moment and says, "Hmmm... You're right. There is something strange...." She says no more, though. Phaedrus begins pacing again and mutters, <> Dragon Queen interrupts him. "Don't do that. Your mumbling can drive a person crazy, and stop pacing. We have to tell the governor, though what he can do I don't know." Phaedrus agrees. Outside the wizards guild one would see the door open and two figures walking out. One cloaked in blue, the other in brown. Together they would walk east on Iron Street, turn south on North Gate Road, hit Center Street, and eventually enter the Governor's Keep. / *--||------------> \ Near the Twisted Dagger, a bit further east on Barley Row, is the Mercenaries Guild. Hours before dawn, shouts and crashes can be heard from here, for prospective mercenaries train on the grounds with the hope of making into the elite mercenary force. Standing in front of the training men is a tall woman with straight black hair, a claymore on her back nearly as tall as she. One of the men approaches her and says, "Guild Master, I've forgotten what you said about the jaguar strike and block maneuver. Could you show it again?" He waits for a moment for her reply, but her attention is elsewhere. "The ice..." she thinks. "This is not natural ice, but an ice formed from the dark pits of the void itself. Why would it be here...." Suddenly she realizes that one of the men had been speaking to her, and repeating what he said. "...strike and block maneuver. Would you please show it again?" The woman sighs and says yes, then tells the man to move back. She addresses him. "Ok, show me what you remember from when I last showed you." He nods his helmeted head and then moves into position. He sets his body in a fighting stance, legs bent, one a bit more forward than the other, and then holds his long sword in front of him, its surface shining with an almost imperceptible layer of ice. Suddenly he moves the sword straight up, then slices forward and down, cutting an imaginary foe in half. However, the sword then moves off to the left, its blow glancing off an imaginary block, and then moves in an arc to the imaginary opponent's neck. It is quite nicely executed, and thought out to the last move. The woman shakes her head and then stands in front of the man and says, "Ok, try it again. Try with all your might, and don't worry about accidently hurting me." The man begins to argue, but then stops, knowing full well that if he could injure the guild master she would not be guild master. He begins his maneuver again, exactly the same. The blow glances off the woman's broad sword and begins its arc toward her neck. She steps forward and jabs a quick punch with her fist at the man's arm, in a certain place, causing him to lose his swing. As he fumbles, the woman steps around him and sweeps his legs out with a quick backwards kick, causing him to tumble down. Then in a flash her blade is at his neck. He sweats with the realization that he could easily have died. She says, "You are much too slow. The form is correct, for the most part (and practice will polish the form to what it needs to be) but you will be dead quickly if you do not speed your second move up. Here, let me show you." She picks him up by his collar. "I'll help you up..." He stands in a defensive stance, and the woman then swings her sword. He blocks the blow easily, but then the sword moves with such speed that it is at his neck before he knows what is happening. She stops inches from decapitating him. "You see?" she says. "The first move is to make your opponent believe you are slow. The second move is at least twice as fast as the first, and it beheads him. Practice it, man, or you shall be sorely sorry in battle. Also practice the defensive maneuver I showed you just now. It will help you some day." The man nods and begins his practice again, this time in a mortal earnest. There is a voice. "Innsbruck! You in there with the men?" A voice of a man. Soon a man dressed in black wearing high black leather boots and black leather gloves enters the practice yard. A few of the men stop practicing to look at him. He moves with the grace of a cat, each step a practice in fluidity. There is nothing on his head to cover the dark curly hair, and his face sports a black moustache. On his side a carved silver pommel shows the craft of the maker of his long sword. Of eyes he has two, of patches one. It is said that he left eye was lost in a card game, but others say it was lost in the pits of Yungol where the priceless brain gem of Yungol was stolen many years ago. No one knows who stole it, but there are rumors... The woman turns from the practice field and says, "Laslo." Not so much as a greeting, but as an acknowledgement of existence. "You are normally sound and comfortable in the warmth of your bed at this time in the morning. What brings you to our early practice?" Laslo Tremaine, well known to be the owner of Tremaine's Investigations, looks around, knocks a bit of forming ice off the leather of his boots, and says, "I had left the window open. I woke up for some reason to find my feet covered in thin ice." He glances at his boots. "This distressed me a bit... I found the urge to leave the comfort of my sleep to what was up..." Guild Master Innsbruck looks around at the encroaching ice. "The ice began late last night... I don't know what it means. I think perhaps we are just having a late freeze, nothing to worry about." Laslo smiles slightly and plays with one side of his moustache. "I'm not so sure... I have the distinct feeling that this is only the beginning of something..." / *--||------------> \ On the beach, if one were to visit the beach at 5 in the morning, one would see a large figure standing. A figure not at all humanoid in shape, rather more equine, standing alone at the water's edge, silently lifting one hoof after another as the ice begins to form around it. Towards the eastern part of the ocean the sky has the unmistakable darkness of just before it gets lighter. To the west it is blacker than the heart of Chaelon. The faint torch light from the Barnacle Inn slightly illuminates the figure just enough to see the tattooed back and shoulders of a centaur. Those who know the centaur know her as Cloudburst. She stands near the beach in the cold of the early morning for any number of reasons, but there is a look of fear in her eyes... a look that betrays her physically relaxed posture as she stands. She glances around back towards the Barnacle Inn, and then back over the water, and finally seems to make a decision. Abruptly she turns and trots towards the south gate. The guards seem surprised to see her as if they had known her plans did not really include them letting her back into the gates, however, she beckons for them to let her in. She then travels straight up the south gate road to the governor's keep and gains entrance. / *--||------------> \ It is now a few hours later. The light has finally decided to show up over the blackness comprising the eastern forest, a foreboding light that seems to ride on the brow of death itself. No cock's crow accompanies the beginning light of this new day, just the muffled sound of the water to the south, and the slight cracking sound of forming ice. At the Twisted Dagger there is a heated discussion and if you were outside you could only catch bits and pieces, but the smell of fresh biscuits would no doubt draw you into the establishment where you would partake upon them greedily, if not warily, for they were cooked by none other than the delightful elven maiden, Erendra of Poren-la. She looks up at the author and says, "Knock it off buster." Sitting at a great round table in the Inn the Gatekeeper seems to have lost control of his breathing and huffs and puffs in great gouts of steam as he tries to convince those he sits with about the importance of dealing with the ice. "Now listen here, Raoul, I won't have you telling me that the ice is really no problem! What ice forms on the Inn, I ask you?" Not waiting for a reply, he continues, "None I say, none at all!" He stops for a breath. The man he addresses, Raoul Thantious, is a rotund middle aged man, balding in the spots that middle aged men bald. He looks up from his plate of a score of biscuits and roast troll tongue, chews the gristled bits in his mouth and swallows them with the grace of one who has redefined the act of swallowing into nothing else but a form of art. An ink stained hand reaches for a mug of diluted festering green ale and he takes a long gulp, letting the worst of the air escape in a loud belch, and says, "Look here, sir, a bit of a chill in the spring air nothing to worry about! It's certainly nothing to wake us all up for at this ungodly hour in the morning!" Erendra agrees. "Gatekeeper, weather will be weather." she says, with a flash of her green eyes and a certain throw of her light blonde hair. The Gatekeeper is suddenly swayed to believe her, but then snaps out of it. "No! I will not be mulled over to the side of you who would do nothing in the face of crisis!" He "harrumphs" and slams his fist on the table, causing Raoul's plate to jump and interrupt a difficult chew. Raoul looks at the Gatekeeper with just a hint of anger. From the corner of the room two voices are heard through the din of the Gatekeeper. "He's right, I tell you." an elven voice says. "This ice just isn't natural and we had better do something about it." A not so elven voice replies, "No, it's just a mild chill as Raoul says. I can't see how it would be anything other than that... who could control the weather?" From the other side of the room Lanoi begins to say something in reply to this, but is interrupted by the elven voice. "Plenty of people! Why, ju--" Then the voice is interrupted by the Gatekeeper. "Would you two get over here and help us decide what to do? It's bad enough to have Raoul eating me out of the Inn!" With the air of, "Oh, all right..." the two figures make their way to the great round table. One of them is a human of fairly average height. His skin seems to be grey and his eyes are piercing black ovals. As he walks, one would notice the black hair tied into a short pony tail move slightly against the black cloak he wears. Erendra makes a appreciative sound concerning his looks, causing the Gatekeeper to grimace, but causing the man to smile. However, he seems to lose a bit of his confidence as he leaves the shadows to sit with the group. The other man, a small faerie elf with light grey skin as well (however with green hair), makes his way towards the group also. He wears slightly greenish chain mail and has an abundance of equipment on his belt, including flasks with wicks and the correct tools to light them. These are next to a short sword as well. He walks with a light step and sits next to Lanoi. Lanoi says, "Kilgore, have you a way to juggle this trouble away?" Kilgore smiles at Lanoi and says, "Perhaps, but isn't it more fun if we do it the hard way?" Lanoi chuckles and seems to be readying another response when the Gatekeeper bellows, "Please! We must figure something out, because heaven knows that no one else probably is!" The grey skinned human sits next to Erendra and seems to fade a bit into the shadow he sits in. Erendra says, "Oh stop it Qwee. Save that for later when we fight the awesome forces of nature itself in a battle pitted against beast and demon from the ve-" She is interrupted by the cough of the Gatekeeper as it sprays a greenish liquid across the table. Then Lanoi speaks up. With the type of smile only an elf can give he says, "Please, Erendra, the Gatekeeper has had a very trying morning jumping around waking us all up." He then puts his sword upon the table where all can see the intense blue that the normally silver blade has become. "What do you make of this?" he asks. Erendra mutters quite tiredly, "I suppose I'll have to go oil the ol' crossbow up then, eh?" Lanoi replies, "The blade forewarns danger and right now it is nearly as blue as I've ever seen it, and it's seen some real danger before. I think it's probably time to talk to the governor, eh, Gatekeeper?" The Gatekeeper looks at Lanoi and mutters, "Not that I've been trying to tell you this all this time..." Qwee asks, "What do you suppose we will tell him, though? That we are being attacked by ice that pops rain barrels and breaks pipes? What sort of proof of any real danger can we show to the governor? He isn't likely to believe in your sword like we do..." Before anyone can reply, though, there is a great explosion heard outside somewhere in the city. The group runs to the door of the Inn and looks out. Rising from the south east portion of the city is a great black bird with the talons of an eagle and the tail of a dragon. It rises straight towards the sun, carrying a small figure in it's grip. The figure seems to struggle for a moment, then quickly reaches behind him and suddenly there is a bow in his hand. He knocks and lets loose an arrow, then another, then another, and finally the bird stops rising. As the great black bird hangs in the air for a moment, the small figure drops and falls, and like a predator after its prey, the bird drops after it. The screech of the bird is heard for miles as it tumbles through the air towards the hard earth, and when it reached the ground directly outside the east gate, there was such a thump that wine barrels in the Knight Club bounced slightly from the floor of their cellars. Of the small figure, however, there were no witnesses to it hitting the ground not because no one knows where it fell, rather, witnesses say they saw the tumbling black figure disappear about half way down on its own journey to the ground. The patrons of the twisted dagger saw this as well and Lanoi and Kilgore both widen their eyes as they watch. Lanoi mutters, "Bloody fool. Wonder what he's done this time..." Kilgore says, "Who...?" Lanoi answers, "Yeah, raincrow, once again, has gotten something angry at him..." Erendra laughs, but looks quite concerned as the figure disappears. The group moves out into the street to see Bert and Black Arrow also looking towards the commotion. Raoul mutters, "It's as though sometimes I wish I had elven eyes to see these events better, but then, sometimes I feel as if I'm lucky not to have the elven eyes for I would be worried much sooner if I could see danger any earlier, and who needs to worry more than necessary?" A quarter of an hour later a tattered figure in dark clothing with a fine black cloak (with few tears in it at this time) slowly walks west on Barley Row. Erendra walks over to and steadies him as he makes his way into the Twisted Dagger. "Raincrow, what happened over there?" she asks. Raincrow gives her a weak smile and says, "It's beyond me. I was looking around a place to go where it would be a bit warmer, and wham, this bird comes shooting through my roof and grabs me before I can do anything. By the time I get ready to shoot the thing, I'm halfway to the moon!" Qwee asks, "I saw you disappear. What happened then?" Raincrow shrugs slightly. "Well, you know, if I'm falling, I've gotta jump over somewhere and then jump back to get out of the fall. Wouldn't you know it? I jumped right into the arms of our friend Lonjetna." At the mention of that name the Gatekeeper and Lanoi suddenly look over to raincrow, stopping their discussion about the best use of the new ice in green ale. "Did you say Lonjetna, raincrow?" asks Lanoi. Raincrow laughs, half heartedly at best. "I thought that would get your attention. Unfortunately, I did. I hopped over to the nearest plane to stop the fall, and landed at her doorstep. She was standing there, looking at me, and looking like she recognized me for breaking her mirror a few years ago. I muttered something about it being a nice day and all, and hopped back here quick, landing up in the Bazaar." Erendra shivers slightly. "She's a nasty one, that Lonjetna... what is she doing so close, so to speak, to here?" Raincrow answers. "It looked to me like she was ready to do a plane jump with some of her head nasties." Noticing Raoul's look of disbelief, raincrow somberly adds, "It was her all right. I saw the hand..." / *--||------------> \ At the mercenaries guild, Laslo Tremaine and Innsbruck decide to leave for the governor's keep. In the premises of the guild, though, stands a large man with brown hair wearing the garb of a knight who also seems to be quite disturbed by the icy presence. He stops Laslo and Innsbruck and says, "May I join you?" He doesn't say more, but stands and awaits their decision. Unhesitantly Laslo says, "Of course, Gardan. I think we'll need all the help we can get with this one..." Gardan looks around him and says, "This smells of evil and the dark. We should make haste to remedy the situation." As they walk in silence towards the Governor's Keep absentmindedly brushing ice off their clothing, a small lizard flies towards them through the clear cold air and circles around a couple times. Gardan watches it closely as it flies away. Soon, an elf with greyish features wearing a dark green cloak can be seen running towards them. He nears and stops to walk, controlling his misty breath. He looks at the flying lizard and says, "You're right, ok, I owe you one." Then looks at the small group and says, "I take it you're off to the Keep to inform the Governor?" Innsbruck answers, "Yes." The elf smiles and says, "Then of course I shall join you! Who knows, I may be able to help in some small way..." Laslo chuckles and says, "The least you could do is keep your lizard off us, Simaril!" They both snicker gleefully for a moment, drawing a look of "why me?" from Innsbruck, and then the group begins walking again, this time with the added chatter of Simaril talking to his lizard about the various causes of strange weather happenings. They make their way over to North Gate Road and then down to Center Street, passing the Smithy, Arrow's Den, and Damage & Sons, and finally making it to Center Street, the street which runs around the Governor's Keep. They follow the street around and make it to the front of the ice-shrouded stone towers and great stone doors of the keep and gain entrance. / *--||------------> \ At the Wizards' Guild, Dragon Queen and Phaedrus quickly walk through the mist of the cold morning air towards the keep as well. As they pass Iron Street a loud clanging is heard from the Smithy. Whoever is inside swears and the clattering of flying metal is heard. A short stocky dark-skinned dwarf with thinning white hair runs from the smithy yelling back, "Duncan, I'll just leave and come back some other time, ok?" The Dwarf nearly skids into them, stops, and says, "Oh, hi guys. Duncan is having a few iron working problems in there; the ice cools the metal so fast... you guys are up awfully early, aren't you?" Phaedrus says, <> Sivinski pulls his cloak close and nods. "It's pretty cold, and the ice is doing nasty things to the drainage system around here... when it thaws I'm going to have some work to do." Dragon Queen says, "We don't think this is a natural ice, though. The quickness with which it forms... why, look at the trees along the croquet ground. They are almost totally covered... and did you hear the explosion a bit ago over towards the south east? I have a bad feeling about all of this." Sivinski nods again and chuckles. "Then if this is arcana making the ice, why for the sake of tinkering do we go to the governor? He works best in the Keep, and I've never seen any wizards or anything from the governor to help us." <> Phaedrus says, <> Sivinski once again nods and says, "I guess I'll join you. Duncan is having a fit and I'd rather face the governor than Duncan right now..." Phaedrus nods and the three of them travel through the icy necklaces enshrouding the croquet ground, and around Center Street, until they too enter the domain of the great stone keep. / *--||------------> \ Inside the Governor's Keep the ice has not had a chance to gain a foothold. Advisers and other servants keep a designated area clean of the frozen crystals no matter how quickly they form. The main entrance hall is full of shadows in corners and alcoves and if one looked closely through the cold air of the keep, one could make out the dark figures of the governor's personal guard. A race of people, not human anymore, whose ancestors bred with dragons. This gives them the power to do what they do the best--protect the life of the governor. Phaedrus, Dragon Queen, and Sivinski enter the keep to find Innsbruck, Laslo, and Simaril keeping themselves warm while waiting outside the audience hall. There are greetings, for all here are, if not friends, at least non-enemies. Dragon Queen walks over to Innsbruck and asks, "Are you waiting for audience here as well?" Innsbruck controls any feelings of freezing and says, "Yes. Though there has been an argument in there since we've been here. It sounds like a woman but it is quite difficult to hear through the doors." And indeed there was a woman shouting inside the audience hall. Suddenly the doors fly open and Cloudburst rushes out, suddenly stopping. "What are all of you doing here?" she asks. Phaedrus says, <> At this Cloudburst laughs. "The Governor? Ha! All that's in there is an inept adviser who doesn't know the time of day! Whenever I asked him where the governor was, all he could say was, 'But don't you have any idea what time it is?' I was NOT going to talk to an underling!" Dragon Queen smiles grimly and walks into the audience hall, Phaedrus behind her and everyone else behind them, including Cloudburst. Dragon Queen says, "Mr. Adviser, I've been told that you are being quite uncooperative with Cloudburst?" The adviser stammers, "But, but... I can not wake the governor! It is not time for him to wake yet! He he must sleep so he will be able to govern when the proper time to awaken comes about in an hour or so! Please, be quiet!" Dragon Queen nods and says over her shoulder while turning to go, "Well, then you let the governor know whose fault it was that the Wizards' Guild no longer offers their services to the government for anything but an exceptional price." She begins leaving, oblivious to the stammering of the adviser, then stops suddenly as a bell is heard. The adviser makes the sign to his deity and seems to prepare himself for a slow and excruciating death. Suddenly the shadows in the audience hall are filled with the guard of the governor and a moment later a door opens where there was no door before. Standing tall in the cold air with his black beard and mustache, piercing deep blue eyes, hawklike nose, and square chin, wearing a red and gold bed robe, the governor surveys the gathering in the room. He speaks and it is quite evident why he has become the governor as his voice fills the room and quickly commands attention from simply the mere intonations of it. Everyone stands not quite knowing what to expect, except perhaps, the governor. "Sorceress Dragon Queen, Guild Master and High Mercenary Innsbruck, Guild Master Phaedrus, and you others, I do not think I need to ask you what brings you here." Before anyone can speak he continues, with his arms crossed in front of him. "Late last night the dragon guard hastened me from my bedroom to one of the more secure rooms in the keep. This alerted me that we were going to have trouble. I underline were, and I continue with ARE. We ARE going to have trouble as it is with only my command that the guard lets me be in audience with you now." He looks over at the walls and sees the tenseness of the men in black and nods. The men in black remove themselves from the shadows it seems before he even nods. They are tall, but not overtly tall, and wear nothing but black. Loose-fitting black clothing cover them from head to foot, even their face where the one bit of color is a jagged red sash that crosses like a torn wound, covering their eyes. It seems that eyes are not the most necessary of their senses. They quickly move through those in audience and take places around the governor. He continues. "I ordered them into the shadows so as not to startle you... but they feel better being closer to me in case of danger. The danger that faces us at this time is great, but what it is, how dangerous it is, where it is from, when it will strike... I do not know any of that. I have been told, though, that there happened an occurrence at Shadow Flight." "Raincrow!" whispers Dragon Queen. The governor continues. "The army and guardsmen are useless against a threat such as this. How can they fight ICE? I give you, the heroes and powerful ones of Edgekeep full permission to rid Edgekeep of this evil. I fear for Edgekeep today and tonight... we must be strong. I must leave now... the danger grows with each passing moment." Cloudburst suddenly steps forward and says, "Wait!" The governor stops and turns around to face Cloudburst as she says, "What about my proposal? If I help you, you will help me?" The Governor thinks for a moment, then turns to leave without answering. As he reaches the top of the stairs Cloudburst moves forward and shouts, "Well?!?" The Governor turns once again and without hesitation says, "If you help rid Edgekeep of this evil I promise to help you." Then he leaves. Dragon Queen moves over to Cloudburst and wonders, "What was that all about, eh?" Cloudburst seems reluctant to answer, and seemingly sensing this, thoughts emanate from Phaedrus. <> Dragon Queen says, "Then we shall, of course, go to the Twisted Dagger." As the group leaves the audience hall the doors close behind them and they are in the icy air of the keep's main chambers. They leave the Keep; they are once again standing on Center Street, the chill creeping back into their bones, and the ice forming on their lashes and hair. Innsbruck says, "I need to pick up a few things at the guild. I'll join you at the Twisted Dagger later.", and then leaves. A few others do the same, and Sivinski says, "Yes, yes... heh heh... I have some ideas. I will also join you later at the Dagger, if there is to be a later!" He then leaves as well. Those left travel towards the Twisted Dagger. As they walk around Center Street and up the North Gate Road, a group of armed men argue in the vacant area next to the Bavarian Beer Hall. Gardan stops and watches them for a moment. Simaril says, "Come on Gardan, they're just confused about this and scared. We need to plan!" Gardan nods to Simaril then walks over to Phaedrus. "Those men need someone to help them organize themselves. I will tell them what to do." Phaedrus looks intently at Gardan and then Gardan nods. Gardan then leaves the group and walks over to the men and begins speaking. "A great danger is approaching us! We need to organize...." His voice is lost as the group leaves. Dragon Queen says, "Phaedrus, what was that all about?" Phaedrus replies, <> Dragon Queen slightly smiles and nods. Cloudburst says, "The honor in a man such as Gardan leaves a good mark for humans in the Spirit of things. I wish him the luck he deserves." A bit later as they trudge through the ice-covered streets, stepping through icy layers of sharp crystals, they finally make it to the Twisted Dagger. Voices inside can be heard and as they enter they are greeted by familiar faces. Lanoi and raincrow speak in low tones by the fire, drawing sketches in the table with daggers; the Gatekeeper and Raoul argue about the sensibility of the whole thing; and Erendra, Qwee, and Kilgore Trout seem content at the moment to watch raincrow and Lanoi. As Erendra notices the group entering, she pokes raincrow and says, "Some of the others are here." Raincrow looks up as does Lanoi, the both say, "Hmm...", and then they get back to planning. Erendra moves away looking slightly annoyed, and motions for Kilgore and Qwee to follow her, but they wave her off as they become involved in the planning process. Erendra walks around tables and chairs to Dragon Queen, Phaedrus, and Cloudburst and says, "Have you come up with something, then? Those guys over there," pointing to Lanoi, raincrow, Qwee, and Kilgore, "Have the most incredibly boring planning sessions I've ever seen." Dragon Queen says, "Let them plan. They do what they do the best I've ever seen it done, whatever it is they do..." As Phaedrus, Dragon Queen, Erendra, and Cloudburst settle around a table, a commotion from the door catches everyone's attention. Walking in, Innsbruck drags a medium-sized hairy body. "Look what I caught peeping into the Inn, guys." She holds up a goblin by a leg. A dead goblin, though; it's head seems to be missing. Soon after her Sivinski and Laslo enter, Sivinski encumbered as can be, but still moving, and Laslo looking quite the same, but more clothed for the season. "We return to bring bad news, friends," says Laslo, "The west gate was breached slightly by a small band of goblins. Seems that Innsbruck here," pointing to the goblin corpse, "has found one of them. There are only supposed to be six of them running around, minus one of course." Raincrow, Qwee, Kilgore, and Lanoi rise as one from their table and move through the tables and chairs towards the door. Lanoi says, "We have to go do a few things. Don't wait for us, we may be gone a while." Phaedrus nods. <> Dragon Queen looks closely at Phaedrus to see if he looks as sane as he doesn't sound, and then nods, realizing that if they fail, not only will the vile forces take Edgekeep, the people of Edgekeep will suffer the damnation of slavery to the demonic forces of hell. Not a pretty picture. / *--||------------> \ Old saying from bunch of wise persons: "When sky purple, you in deep grape juice". Indeed the sky had more purple in it than blue, but that could be due to the fact that the air had more green in it than was normal, or it could be do to the fact that the ground spit geysers of boiling sulfur hundreds of feet into the air, scattering smoking splatters of purple/black liquid encircled by dancing blue flames across the mottled landscape of bubbling hellfire. Or of course it could be all of the above and the possible fact that planes near the abyss seem to have no moral need to follow the same prime material rules as planes not so near the abyss. A voice wavers out of the greenish musk serving as air... "Is anyone there?" A pause of, say, thirty seconds before another voice answers, "I was just thinking of an old saying my grandfather told me..." Then a slightly shorter pause and another voice, "Hey, Kilgore, is that you?" Another voice answers that, "Yeah, I'm over here. But I don't see Lanoi or raincrow, or even you for that matter." Qwee steps out of the murk into Kilgore's field of vision, and a few moments later Lanoi and raincrow do the same. Raincrow says, continuing a conversation they had been having in the Twisted Dagger, "All we have to do is get inside one of the flesh-like tents I'm sure we'll find and destroy whatever devices we can see." Qwee says, "That doesn't sound too difficult. What will there be to stop us?" Raincrow answers, "Only a horde of psychotic demons (what other kind are there?) ruled by a mad woman with a crystal hand." Kilgore says, "I see..." Qwee asks, "Say, Lanoi, what was that your grandfather told you?" Lanoi shakes his head and mutters, "Shoulda stayed in bed this morning..." Somewhere in the distance the unmistakable sound of demon yowling can be heard. Kilgore glances somewhat nervously around the area. Raincrow grins maniacally as his half-elven ears pick the sound up and says, "The sound of the horde... you who haven't visited these lower planes before will never forget that sound as long as you live." There is a louder yowling sound and the group scurries for some shelter behind a huge formation of hardened sulfur. "All these demons want is a good taste of flesh and blood for they are deprived of their most favorite meal." Raincrow continues, "I mean, how long does a demon last in Edgekeep? Not long. Someone sees it and then it's killed off, without even tasting some good ol' flesh and blood. So I'm warning you- These demons are out to eat you. As soon as one sees you you can imagine that they are all aware of your presence and you'll have to run, fight, hide, and do whatever you know how to do to get out of here alive." Once again the group scurries to a different side of the sulfur monstrosity for a growling sound can be heard quite nearby. "As I was saying, you better stick close to me if you want to get out of here. As soon as we destroy the device (last time it was a mirror) then we can leave. The lady will be really really mad. She will want to kill you. Let's have fun, ok?" Qwee mutters, "Why does this sound like a pep talk for a croquet match?" Having made their various weapons ready, the quartet slowly worms their way around the sulfur formation to happen upon a slobbering beast of a demon. A basically humanoid-shaped creature with long shiny black hairs covering its scaled body and pointing inwards where its mouth must be, the demon looks at the group with a patch of eyes attached just below the bulging forehead. The patch around the eyes is devoid of any of the shiny black hair, as is a patch of area around a pair of curious metallic-looking scales on the beast's shoulders. The demon squints at the group with its multiple eyes and says in a quite demonic voice, "Little fleshums, eh?" From a dark recess under a metallic patch, the demon takes out what looks like a cigar and inserts it into a toothy hair covered mouth under a nonexistent nose and lights it with a forefinger. "Little fleshums are just about what the doctor ordered, today." it says. Lanoi, looking a bit annoyed, hefts high the glowing blue blade that his sword has become, and brings it down slowly to touch the demon. The demon yelps, "Ouch!" and says, "Listen fleshums, are you going to come nice and easy and get eaten without putting up much of a fuss, or am I going to have to rip all your limbs off first and drag the pieces to the kitchen? The guys like it when their food screams, so if you'll please make it eas--" The demon suddenly drops his cigar and bends down to pick it up just at the same moment that Lanoi's blade whishes through the air where it's neck had been. The demon glances up pitifully at Lanoi and says, "Ah, you wanna play rough, eh?" He gurgles a bit of demon phlegm and suddenly from the metallic patches on its shoulders swords appear and begin swinging. Lanoi steps aside from the blurry edges and attempts to cut the creature's head off. However he soon finds that instead of attacking, it is all he can do to defend himself from the rage of the demon. Suddenly two arrows embed themselves in the demon's eyes, momentarily causing it to stop whirling its blades. It screeches, spitting out the cigar, "Fleshums really have no manners these days, why--" and stops talking as it's head falls off via Lanoi's blade. Watching the demon blood seep into his sword, Lanoi says, "Are all demons like this? The demons I've met usually growl, pounce, rip, tear, chew, claw, and bite first and ask questions later." Raincrow answers while putting his bow over his shoulder, "These demons are a bit more laid-back. But the killing of this one is sure to bring us a bit of trouble..." At that moment a ninja demon jumps from the top of the sulfur formation, dropping through the greenish mist like a spectre from hell which of course he is. He lands in the middle of the group wielding four swords of extremely high quality in four of his six black arms. Easily fending off a series of blows from Lanoi the creature says, "You should not have killed Bruce there. Now all you have succeeded in doing is releasing the full wrath of our demonic spirit!" The demon begins advancing upon Lanoi as the others back off a bit, then Kilgore says, "What's the full demonic spirit?" The demon turns as if to say, "Don't be stupid." but never gets the chance because it's throat suddenly turns to pulp as Qwee and Lanoi both place their swords in it. Raincrow looks at Kilgore strangely and says, "Come on. We don't have much time." Kilgore mutters, as they walk away, "I was just wondering what the full demonic spirit was..." In the murky atmosphere of this plane of demons, one could travel in any direction quite easily. And anyone with any sense at all would travel in the opposite direction of the loudest of the demon yowling and grunting noises. Not these four, however. They slowly pick their way around bubbling cauldrons of sulfur and other unidentifiable liquids most assuredly having at least a little bit to do with various hellfires due to the sensation of the inside of their noses that burn and their eyes that itch. They hop over streams of lava, only singing their boots and clothing mildly, and finally make it up a scarny hill of bone chips to see a vast army amassing on a smoking plain of burnt corpses and mangled terrain. Numberless, the army in front of them stretches as far as they can see, with demon soldiers in all shapes and forms. Those that run on four legs, and those that run on two, and those that need no legs but rather slither upon the ground seem to be present in abundance. Kilgore whispers, "There is no way we can get through that mess of demonic wrath to whatever tents are out there..." The murky greenness of the atmosphere cuts off all vision after a mile or so in the plane and after a few feet behind them. Lanoi says, "I agree. However, I have an idea that perhaps raincrow can do something about that, eh?" Raincrow smiles, then closes his eyes. After a moment he twitches his hands and then opens his eyes. "Ok," he says, "We are ready." Kilgore quickly hisses, "Ready for what? What did you do?" Raincrow, though, does not hear him for he already makes his way down the steep embankment of dried bones and chips into the camp of the demons. Lanoi whispers, "An illusion. We are cloaked, hopefully, in an illusion that makes us look like demons." And at that Lanoi also makes his way down the slope, followed by Qwee and a somewhat reluctant Kilgore. At the edge of the demon encampment all is chaotic. Human and not- so-human forms roast on spits over puddles of molten sulfur, causing small geysers and explosions when oils and fat drip; games of mettle and courage are played (such as see whose neck can be twisted the most before it breaks), as well as brawls, fights, and the consumption of large amounts of demon ale. Traveling through this chaos towards the first checkpoint only took two hours and left behind no more than 13 demon bodies. Most of the scuffles are not even noteworthy. Qwee quickly cutting the head off one demon and narrowly missing getting sprayed by the acid-like ichor of another as Kilgore blows it up with a small flask and wick, raincrow having no trouble dispatching the demon in his path with a quick arrow in the eye socket and out the back of the skull, and Lanoi having no trouble dealing death with his glowing sword. However, one time in each of these adventurer's path through the demons particularly seemed of import enough to recall here. As raincrow led the way down the small path that the demons somehow managed to keep clear, one large demon with a red crystal for an eye piece seemed to see through the illusion and bellowed, "Who let the fleshums loose?" This caused quite an uproar in the immediate vicinity. Demons took to the air and crawled with fury, and some managed to accidentally bump into the adventurers, noting to themselves that the form they bumped into felt not at all like the form they happened to see. So, Kilgore had a nasty fellow facing him after one such bump and saying, "Me thinks you be a fleshum that will fill me pot tonight... heh heh heh.." The demon had one large yellow eye on the very top of his head and quite a flexible wrinkled neck that bent over to peer at Kilgore. The body was long and tubular, all wrinkled and gray, and the arms were more like tentacles, but nevertheless they gripped swords quite nicely... all four of them. The legs were squat fat things which gave the creature the appearance of practically falling over at each squatty step. But though the legs be short, they were quite fast and Kilgore had a difficult time in keeping ahead of them. Kilgore smiled at the creature and tossed a small lit flask at it. The flask exploded and the creature walked with its stubby gray legs through the inferno towards Kilgore. "Now I knows you are fleshum for supper!" the creature hissed. Kilgore quickly put back a flask identical to the first one he threw and unsheathed a short sword. The demon lurched over to gaze straight down upon Kilgore and then opened its large round mouth and dropped mouth first towards Kilgore. Kilgore, not quite ready to be eaten, saw this and made to jump for the side, but instead stood where he was, faking out the demon to such an extent that it swerved and smashed into the rock, stunning itself. The demon panted for a moment and tried to move, however it had been stunned quite badly, and seeing this, Kilgore took out a flask from his pack and tossed it into the open tooth-filled maw of the demon and ducked. After a moment of confusion on the demon's part, its head exploded in a gory fountain, sending large dagger-like teeth in all directions, killing off two more demons. Raincrow also had an experience of sorts that is worth mentioning. A small demon spider skittered up to him and then stopped, evidently realizing that the thing it thought to be a nice scratch post of a demon was actually not what it seemed. It stood still for a moment, as did raincrow (not wanting to get involved with demon spiders anyway) and suddenly sprung. Raincrow barely moved his head away to the side fast enough to miss becoming a perch for two very large fangs connected to the little demon spider. Raincrow quickly reached for a his bow and an arrow, but seeing as how this would take more time than the demon needed to go for another lunge, raincrow instead unsheathed two small daggers. "Fangs for fangs..." he muttered to the demon. Though this demon did not speak, it seemed to understand and it grinned evilly and jumped. As it flew, its fangs dripped poison on the ground and caused little corroded spots, and just as it was about to sink its fangs deep into raincrow's shoulder, raincrow leaped aside and slashed once with both knives, cutting the legs off the demon spider in mid-leap. Bouncing as it landed and finally rolling to a stop, its poison dripping freely from needle-like fangs, the demon spider tried to move, but finding no legs were attached to its body (a fact which strangely enough didn't seem to bother the demon much) attempted to spit venom at raincrow, only succeeding to cause a large hole to be corroded in front of its legless body. Being the wise half-elf, raincrow trotted over towards the spider and kicked it into the hole where it soon drowned miserably in its own poison. Qwee watched all this happening and failed to notice the group of nastybugger demons behind him slowly advancing while scrutinizing his form carefully. Suddenly in their hands, still unnoticed by Qwee, appeared two demon straws a piece, and soon after demon straw wrappers were a flying. They passed through the illusion surrounding Qwee and alerted them to the fact that Qwee was not a demon, but something other than a demon, thereby falling into the food category quite nicely. Qwee, however, did not fail to notice the flying straw wrappers, and before the demons could react Qwee had spun around holding his hand to his mouth. The demons looked surprised as a black straw appeared in Qwee's hand and the black straw wrapper was blown off at them. The wrapper wound its way through the air, easily captivating the less than intelligent demons. As the demons watched, with demonic tongues dripping demonic drool, the wrapper wafted on many seemingly inconceivable air currents, until it slowly landed on one of the demon's shoulders. The demon smiled as he moved his hand to pluck the wrapper from his shoulder. But before his hand could reach it, the wrapper quickly straightened, messily slicing through the nearest bit of demon flesh which happened on this occasion to be its grisly neck. This angered the other demon's, three all together. They quickly unsheathed nasty looking blades, and advanced upon the weaponless Qwee. In a seemingly unnatural act of courage and severe brain damage in early childhood, Qwee smiled at this onslaught of demonic fury. The demons laughed and charged, and suddenly faced Qwees. Four to be exact. This caused the demons to stop for a second, but they quickly advanced. One rather demonic demon screeched as it charged into the Qwees, flailing it's sword like a machete neatly chopping off one of the nearest Qwees arms. At this sudden and frightful attack, the wounded Qwee looked forlornly at his arm on the ground and yelled, "Fight me, you coward!." The demon quickly chops off the other arm, resulting in another yell, "Don't run away!". Quickly, the demon chops both legs off, and the Qwee is left lying on the ground. "A flesh wound I tell you! I'll rend your bones to powdery muck before I let you get away!" The demon stomps on his face, and the Qwee disappears in a flash of light. Meanwhile, the other Qwees had been quickly dispatched in much the same manner, leaving only one Qwee. "Well, I see you have dispatched my illusions. Now, fight the real Qwee." With a blood curdling scream, nothing new in the demon camp, the demons rushed the weaponless Qwee, filleting his body quite nicely. However, while the demons prepared to eat the filleted Qwee they failed to notice one more Qwee behind them. From his hands a dark web appeared and spun towards the demons, catching and encasing them all in its darkness. Caught in his web the demons struggled to no avail and as the web slowly contracted in response a few muttered words from Qwee, the screaming of the dying demons almost caused some of the others to wonder what it was all about. But the screams stopped a few moments later as demon-spaghetti squirted from the spaces in the net. Slowly walking away from the carnage, Qwee was heard to mutter, "Hate nasty buggers, that's for sure..." Off to the side and slightly ahead of the group, Lanoi watched with fascination as each group member dispatched his personal demon(s), and nearly utterly missed the demon that sprang towards him in a mad attempt to remove itself from the fracas. The demon, a well-armored humanoid type with four additional arms, had bounded with its exceptionally muscled legs and landed about six inches from Lanoi. Lanoi, in an immediate response that must have been sheer reflex, unsheathed his long sword, brightly glowing blue, and tumbled off to the side. Jumping to his feet, he scrutinized the situation, as did the demon. The demon smiled and in a flash four arms threw small shiny metallic discs towards Lanoi who swung his sword in a smooth motion, effectively blocking all but one of the discs, and that one missed anyway. The demon grinned toothily and said with an air of demonic pride, "You be good for a fleshum... But not good enough for Garnat the Great." Lanoi somewhat casually flipped the sword over onto his shoulder, and with one hand on his hip replied, "Garnat?" There was a moment of unnerving silence between the two until Garnat shouted, "Yes! Garnat the Great! Surely you've heard of me? I am the one who killed off half the gnomish population in the last war of the races." Lanoi suddenly backed away and muttered, "Oh ho, so you're a racist, then?" Garnat smiled and suddenly in two of his arms were short thin bladed swords with which he wove an intricate pattern of steel towards Lanoi. In a crash, Lanoi parried blow after blow, then delivered his own causing the demon Garnat to retreat a bit, but then finding the need to parry once again, losing more footing when the demon gained. The fight seemed to go on like this until in a swift and reckless motion Lanoi lunged forward into Garnat causing them both to tumble down a slope of bones and half rotted carcasses. A thud and a scream was heard, then a rising figure. From afar raincrow saw Garnat rise from the scuffle he had just had with Lanoi and yelled, "Lanoi!". Garnat slowly turned towards raincrow and smiled a wistful smile, finally opening his mouth and letting the demon blood that had been accumulating there spill out in a gasping gurgle, and he fell with a thud. Lanoi slowly rose to his feet and waved to raincrow saying, "I'm ok. Just had the wind knocked out of me..." / *--||------------> \ Near the west gate Innsbruck and Laslo stand in the crispy coldness, watching repairs take place at the point where goblins breached the gate. In the still distance Erendra and Simaril walk towards the north gate along the Gate Road to search through the frozen Mithril Park, a place where goblins just might like to hang out. They enter the park slowly and carefully, Erendra holding her crossbow and Simaril holding a short bow. Brushing against any of the trees would send deadly ice daggers plunging to the ground, through anything in their paths. Though the brushing against of trees is not the only thing that would loose the deadly daggers. A brush of wind, a sound of ice melting, the slight turbulence of air around it... Erendra suddenly whirls around and and fires a bolt nearly straight up. The bolt strikes a large falling stalactite of ice that had been heading towards Simaril's skull. The ice explodes in a frozen mist as the bolt hits it, coating the surrounding area with a glistening frost. Falling out of a tree and landing safely on its head, a goblin pulls out a short dagger and a small black stick. He throws the dagger at Simaril who is hit in the shoulder, but manages to shoot the arrow knocked in his bow. The arrow does not hit the goblin in front of them, though, but impales a different goblin that had been lurking nearby from a different tree. The first goblin laughs and points the stick at Erendra as blast of fire materializes in front of the wand and rushes towards her. She dodges quickly by simply diving off to the side, but gets slightly hit on the shoulder, burning a hole in her leathers. Cursing, she reaches behind her as she rolls and in a swift motion flings a dagger at the goblin. The goblin had been laughing and never knew why it was it died so fast. Erendra crouches near the body of the goblin and pulls her dagger from the already freezing blood welling out of it's throat and says, "Ok, three down, three to go. You OK Simaril?" Simaril smiles weakly and says, "Sure.. just got me in the flesh. I can't believe I was that slow. I should have dodged... I don't know..." Erendra says, "Don't worry about it. The cold slows us all down. I nearly got hit by that guy's fireball.. You want the wand?" Simaril shrugs his shoulders and takes the wand from Erendra, and they continue to search a bit in the park. / *--||------------> \ Elsewhere in the city Innsbruck and Laslo search for whatever remaining goblins there may be. It's not very difficult finding them, for where ever they go there are screams and animal panics. Laslo and Innsbruck race towards the Deserted Ruins along Stirge Street. They get there and find one goblin smashed by a fallen pillar. A man in white robes shivers in the cold, watching the spectacle. Laslo says, "Did you see anything here?" The man from the Healers Abode says, "The horses were going wild and I looked outside to see this little guy just standing there.. and then the pillar toppled over. Musta been the weight of the ice, I think..." Innsbruck says, "Quick, man, where are the others?" The man stammers for a moment but finally says, "I saw two of the little grubbers going into the ruins... back from where they came as far as I can tell." Laslo looks at Innsbruck with his eyebrows raised and turns for the ruins, Innsbruck following. Entering the ruins is always a troublesome thing. Even when the weather is sunny, warm, and dry, instead of cold, gray, and, well, dry. The silence of the ruins is overpowering, even if just outside there is a street fair. Laslo and Innsbruck walk into the ruins with soft footsteps, knowing full well that to be careless in the ruins is to be careless with their hard won lives. The goblin watched for the tell-tale signs of breath mist. It carefully watched from it's cold perch on a pillar and finally spied the sign of hunters. Motioning to its companion upon a pillar across the walkway, they get ready. Both have short bows, both have arrows in them, both are expert goblin bowme...er, things. Laslo walks into view, but suddenly stops. Soon he continues. Two arrows fly. The thwack of the strings are accompanies by the sounds of arrows embedding themselves in Laslo's shoulder leathers. In an instant, Innsbruck jumps back and quickly circles behind the left hand goblin. There is a screech as the goblin's feet are cut off as they were hanging over the edge of the pillar. Then the goblin is lifted as it is impaled upon Innsbruck's huge claymore. With a heave, the goblin is flung aside, slipping off the blade, and crushed against another large pillar. The other goblin knocks another arrow, but not quick enough to escape Laslo as he pulls the arrows free from his armor and flings them back at the goblin. One arrow bounces harmlessly off the goblin's helm. The other embeds itself harmfully in the goblin's arm. The goblin screeches and pulls the arrow out in time to watch the large blade of Innsbruck's claymore slip under it's breastplate and through it's ribs to embed itself in it's backbone. With a terrible ripping, Innsbruck twists the blade free and cuts the goblin nearly in half as it falls with a thud to the cold ground. Innsbruck walks over to Laslo as he sits catching his breath in the cold air and says, "Are you injured?" Laslo smiles slightly and says, "Not to bad. Just got a couple large holes in the armor, and a couple small holes in the skin... I'll heal." He looks at the goblins mangled bodies, noticing how their blood has already frozen, and says, "Poor little guys, didn't have a chance... heh heh heh..." He chuckles evilly at this thought, then stands up. "I don't think there would be any more of them here. They would have been together... they don't travel alone. Let's go back to the Twisted Dagger and let the others know." Innsbruck agrees and they move through the ruins, Laslo choosing not to notice the bit of blood dripping down his hands, to Goblin Row. "I hate the name of this street..." he mutters. As Laslo and Innsbruck near Iron Street, they meet Erendra and Simaril. They exchange information as to what was killed and where, and smile. "Sometimes things work out just the way you want them, eh?" says Erendra. Laslo smiles and mutters something to Simaril, who chuckles. They laugh to each other all the way back to the Twisted Dagger. Innsbruck and Erendra shake their heads and sigh, their breaths marking their trail in a pattern of whisps and whirls of icy thoughts and plans... / *--||------------> \ Back in the demonic planes of nasty buggers, the four (Raincrow, Lanoi, Kilgore, and Qwee) regroup and make their way through more of the demon ranks, this time being especially careful so as not to disturb any large demons with red crystals in their eyes, or get too close to other various snarling demons and their ilk where the demonic illusionary forms around them might bump into a demon and not be felt, effectively giving them away. They finally manage to find themselves within sight of the center of the huge encampment. Large iron cauldrons on iron and bone stands situated over small pits of hellfire boil lead and blood in a bubbling noxious stink barely worse than the general atmosphere anyway. They stand around an open area of about a hundred feet by a hundred feet. Tending these cauldrons, encircled by the noxious fumes and gasses so abundant in this world, huge one-eyed cyclops demons stir away with huge iron rods. They stir the cauldrons constantly, almost as if that which was being cooked should never stay in the same place too long. In the open area encircled by the cauldrons (which number about twenty five) stands a large tent. A tent large enough to have a banquet with room left over. Standing three men high, made of red semi-transparent material, the tent had the ominous look of something about to open it's mouth to bite your hand off. Raincrow whispers, "That's one of the tents we are looking for. It's my bet that it's made of flesh, flesh kept alive by the fumes of the cauldrons." Even as he spoke the fumes suddenly rushed up and enveloped the tent, leaving it dripping with the condensation. Kilgore whispers, "That doesn't look like fun, raincrow. Do you intend that we go in there and break a mirror or something?" raincrow glances over at Kilgore, "Something like that... I'm not sure about this, though..." Lanoi says, "Hold on, let me try something." He motions over to Qwee, then whispers at him. Then Qwee nods and Lanoi walks up to one of the cyclops demons and swings his sword around to chop half the demon's skull off. Kilgore and raincrow look so amazingly startled at this act of stupidity that they can not even react as suddenly a large tear appears in the side of the tent near where Qwee used to be. Large enough for someone to walk in, or out. Lanoi quickly jumps out of the way of a thrown iron rod from a different cyclops demon, a very angry one, and then runs straight for the tent, though towards different side than the one with the tear. He stops for a moment straightening out his cloak over his lithe form, then dashes at the tent, his sword held high and out, cutting through the tent in a ripping scream. Raincrow, thinking that enough is enough, ducks under a blow of a maddened cyclops demon and runs through the sulfurous mist into one of the tears of the tent, Kilgore right behind him holding a small flask. Inside the tent Lanoi runs around the edge, shearing the tent as he runs, and yells, "Raincrow! You and Kilgore topple that small cauldron of bubbling stuff! That's the gate object there! I can feel it!" Raincrow looks towards the center of the tent and sees a small black cauldron perched on a pile of blackened bones, a black viscous liquid bubbling by itself within. Each bubble that pops splashes a bit of the liquid over the edge of the cauldron, where it splashes on the bones emitting a hiss of steam. Tending this cauldron is a woman with a crystal hand. She watches Lanoi with interest, but when she sees raincrow she shrieks, "You again!!" she screeches with a voice filled with years of vengeful hate. "You shall die and add your bones to my pile!" She makes a throwing motion towards raincrow, but her crystal hand is quickly caught in a net of darkness as Qwee materializes next to her. He throws more of the net over her until she cannot move and says, "Sorry about that. No hard feelings?" She shrieks, "I have seen your faces! I will not forget this!" Raincrow yells, "Qwee! Break the cauldron! Use one of the hammers or something!" Before Qwee can move, though, Kilgore yells, "Get back! I'll blow the thing up!" Qwee dives not a moment too soon as Kilgore's flask flashes through the air and hits square on the side of the cauldron. Somehow, the explosion of the flask is absorbed totally by the cauldron, then the cauldron begins glowing. Lanoi, still slicing the tent from the sides yells, "Let's get out of here now! That thing's gonna be bad!" As he finishes his circuit around the tent, causing it to lean listlessly over and nearly fall, he makes a quick bow to the woman in Qwee's black net frantically trying to free her crystal hand from a tight cocoon, and says, "M'lady Lonjetna, may you die slowly very quickly." Before she can screech a response, Lanoi follows Qwee, raincrow, and Kilgore out one of the original tears none too soon as a moment later a gigantic explosion rocks the ground as a geyser of hellfire shoots high into the air, piercing the rolling clouds of sulfurous gasses like a javelin of fire. As it stops at the top of its journey, the top seems to topple over slightly, and then with a muffled "splut" falls to the ground in an instant, splashing molten hell fire on the surrounding area, causing everything to burn even more than it has been. Just before that, however, raincrow had gotten everyone together to lock hands and they disappeared into the planes, almost immediately reappearing in Edgekeep. raincrow says, "Once that cauldron was destroyed we could plane travel right from that spot... no protection against it. Now the lady is mad, though..." Kilgore says, "I don't know if that's quite the word for it... look!" He points towards the sky in the distance. A tower of flame can be seen to be toppling and then disappears and left in the sky, burning, are the words, "Nay, you will die slowly... slowly!" :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Part 2 -- Ice in the Night :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Evening. A time of day after laborious chores caused by the need to stay alive in a land hostile enough to call battlefields and mercenary training areas mere playgrounds. Evening in Edgekeep is usually a time to relax and enjoy a fine ale easily found in many of the reputable establishments of the city, as well as in a few not-so-reputable pubs found in darkened alleys and unlighted streets. Evening. This one is different. This time the disappearing light over the great swamp to the west brings a cold feeling of forboding as the ice which had been slowly thickening during the lighted hours suddenly finds its one natural enemy gone for the duration. Cold as the sun had been this day, still the ice was colder. Enveloping crystals of cold silence creep along the hard roads and boarded walks, thin blades of muffled evil make their ways under doors; the night becomes a welcome cove for the growing entity making its presence known in Edgekeep. It is only a few hours since Raincrow, Kilgore, Lanoi, and Qwee returned from the realm of demons to bring back the news of Lonjetna and the vast army massing in a nearby plane of existence. While they had been gone, Phaedrus the Stablemaster/Head druid, Dragon Queen the Guildmaster of the Wizards' Guild, and Innsbruck the Guildmaster of the Mercenaries Guild had made the basic plans of defense for Edgekeep. In a dimly-lit corner of the Twisted Dagger the three sit together, attempting to agree on the final making of the plans. With a large mug of bubbling green ale in one hand, his forehead in the other, Phaedrus mumbles, <<...Things should not be this difficult! All I wanted was a place to stay, a place to keep the horses, a nice garden, and some peace and quiet, and what do I get? Demon hordes and mad women with crystal hands... Life is just plain unfair sometimes.>> Dragon Queen looks at him strangely for a moment then says, "Well, do we have the final plan or what? Is it agreed that the wizards from the guild will stay in the city and attempt to eradicate anything that actually pops up inside the walls (to minimize damage that the oh so physical fighters always seem to cause), and the mercs will station themselves at the walls and gates with the various Edgekeep militia to keep the walls from being breached?" Innsbruck looks at Dragon Queen and says, "I still think the wizards would be better at the walls. What if some of the things that attempt to gain entrance use magic? My mercenaries have only a minimum amount of magical defense, and no magical offense at all save for a wand here and there. All the magical ones joined the Wizards' Guild, if you will recall." Before Dragon Queen can respond, Phaedrus cuts in. <> Innsbruck and Dragon Queen sigh as they realize that most of the patrons of the Inn are waiting for their decision. Then they both nod and Phaedrus suddenly sits up. <> The three then begin working on just where to put people and how many to put, and for the remainder of the planning session do just that, with Dragon Queen or Innsbruck sending messengers periodically to start the operations. Out in the practice field in northwest Edgekeep, a growing number of armed men stand at pseudo-attention, the steam from their breaths rising like fog above them. They stand at the sort of attention a group of men would stand at if they had never been in an army before but are proud to be a part of what they are doing at this time. In front of them, steam rising from his polished plate armor, Gardan the Knight stands. Off to the side is a large black stallion with a lance sheathed. Gardan overlooks the men before him, numbering about 300, and smiles. "Very quickly have you men become somewhat disciplined. I am proud to lead you." The men stand at attention still, however their muscles tighten slightly and a sense of being a part can be felt. The common thought is that their homes are in danger from the ice and what is behind it and even as they had been banding together on their own, the Knight found them. Having the privilege of serving under the leadership of a knight is almost a dream in the common mind; young men often leave Edgekeep to join such groups. Gardan continues. "When we begin fighting, and I have been forewarned that there will be fighting, many of you will die. Your deaths, however, will not be in vain for much honor goes into the death of one who is protecting his home and countrymen. When this is over you will all be heroes and I will mention your names to the high crown when I next visit." At attention the men still stand, barely moving to keep the ice from forming on their bodies. Gardan studies the men in front of him, walks across the cracking ground and begins his inspection. He knows that before the night is over he will be looking at some of these men for the very last time. Even for a knight this is not easy. Soon a messenger from Innsbruck appears at the edge of the practice field. Gardan motions the man, a large black bearded Northerner, to come forward. The two speak in low tones for a moment and then the messenger goes back the way he came. Gardan shakes his head slightly. "Men, we have been given our assignment." Though the men stand still at attention their obvious eagerness almost breaks the discipline Gardan has molded. Quickly continuing, Gardan says, "We are not to be inside the city this night... we must leave through the north gate and protect the farms that feed us." There is a gasp from some of the men as they had been planning on protecting their homes inside the city. Gardan continues. "You do not have to go. But if honor means anything to you, you will follow me now." With that, Gardan mounts his stallion, steam huffing from its nostrils as they flare in the cold air, and slowly makes his way towards the north gate. The men with horses do the same, and then the footmen follow. There is no one left behind. / *--||------------> \ A common scene in Edgekeep at night. A dock worker returns from the day of work, and his wife has the supper either ready or close to ready. A couple of children perhaps play near the fire. The scene is a cozy one with soft chairs, some pillows, perhaps a quilt and a dog. Outside the ice grows slowly, enshrouding the house in a crystal veil paper thin. As the ice spreads in the dark moonlight it cracks and groans slightly as if to make known its presence. But ice is just ice... right? In the time that it takes a puddle to freeze, the ice had covered the cobbled roof, the windows, the doors, walls-- everything. Inside the cozy scene changes just a bit. The smoke backs down the chimney, the children cough. The wife notices the kitchen vents do not work properly, and the husband, trying to go outside to cut some more wood, realizes that the door will not open. Soon spots appear on the ceiling and walls, spots of wetness that drip into the room. Cold clear water drips into the room and splashes onto the floor. At first the wife tries to catch the drips with pans and pots, but soon a different sort of fear holds her. The sort of fear one realizes when they have no control over the events that have suddenly become the focus of their lives. No longer does it matter whether or not the husband is making enough copper at the docks, no matter whether or not the supper is ready. The question of continuing existence outweighs all others. The drops of water in the house will eventually reach a point where a puddle forms on the floor, and that will eventually reach a point where the cold standing water is up to the inhabitants' ankles. The inhabitants will have tried to break windows, doors; even burn the house from within. It does not take long, now, for the water to rise up to waist height and more. Soon the parents are holding the children for the water has gotten too high for them. Soon after that the parents hold the children higher, using strength reserved for battles valiantly fought. Battles can be won or lost, though, and this family, like many others this icy night, will know the agony of defeat as the chill of the water numbs their bodies and spirits and finally defeats them in the watery nightmare of drowning. The ice shrouding the home begins to break away, piece by cracking piece, and soon around the house is only a broken shell of ice, washed quickly away by the water that suddenly finds an escape through windows and doors. Many a body litters the streets this night as they too found exits through the windows and doors... many a body frozen solid by the freezing darkness that chills in an instant. / *--||------------> \ Inside the Twisted Dagger Phaedrus suddenly stops arguing with Dragon Queen and Innsbruck. He puts both hands to his forehead for a moment, then stands up, his face ashen in the dark light of the Inn. <> Dragon Queen makes a quick motion with her hand and squints her eyes. She too stands up after a moment and motions to one of the Wizards' Guild members. She speaks quickly. "Go to the guild and find a dozen wizards who have not yet been sent to the wall. Find a dozen that are good with heat and fire... You will see why on your way to the guild." He nods and is gone quickly out the door. Innsbruck joins Phaedrus and Dragon Queen and says, "I think we have the plans ready, and the work cut out. Now we must wait until the hordes show themselves." From one of the corner tables a voice is heard, "Shouldn't be long now, Innsbruck. As soon as she fixes her gateway they should start pouring in." Innsbruck looks over to the darkened corner. "Raincrow, you always have such optimism to share with us." There is more than one chuckle from that same corner. From that corner four figures stand up and move towards the door. Lanoi stops before opening it and says, "We have decided that we will best serve the city by helping out at the east gate. For some reason Raincrow believes the portal is in the easterly direction... besides, the eastern forest would be a great place to stage an attack from. We'd never see them coming." Raincrow nods his agreement and adds, "If anyone else would care to join us we won't hold you back." The door opens and a short, stocky man walks through, bumping into Raincrow. The man, a short, stocky, dark brown skinned man with a large bulbous nose. The look in his eyes gives way to near wildness and you realize this man is a tinker dwarf, one of the finest that you've known. Pouches, strange metal items, and uncountable other strange and fascinating objects adorn this man. He says, "I will go with you, if I heard you correctly, to the east gate. I've no liking to be waiting for whatever it is that is going to happen. I think I should like to be right there." Raincrow says, "Good. Then you shall of course come with us." Qwee and Kilgore, standing slightly behind raincrow, Sivinski, and Lanoi, look at each other with the look of "is this really such a good idea?" but nod their agreement as well. While adjusting his cloak-covered chainmail, Kilgore says, "Funny how some people would run out to meet with a danger they have no idea what it might be, yet at the same time those same people would shy from a romantic evening over candle light and ale..." Qwee slightly squints his black eyes (perhaps to see in a different way to try to make sense) looks closely at Kilgore, says nothing, and privately decides that his friend has gone over the edge. "Oh well, as long as he can still use his blade..." he mutters. With a blast of icy air the door opens a second time and the five leave, traveling down Barley Row, then following the Gate Road to the East Gate, the gate next to the Eastern Forest where men rarely enter and even more rarely leave again. Inside the Twisted Dagger Inn the air has grown considerably cooler, as well as the mood. The Centaur Cloudburst, with a shake of her Mohawk, says, "I shall be going to the south gate and helping with preparations there." She begins walking towards the door but stops as someone says "Wait!" Leaving the bar stool she had been resting on the golden haired elven maiden Erendra of Poren-la moves towards Cloudburst. Across her back is slung a crossbow, and on her belt is a large assortment of daggers and knives. There is no need to pretend she can not use them for this night everything is needed. Quickly a small flying lizard swoops upon her and lights on her shoulder. From the bar a voice says, "Well, I guess that clinches it, I'll also be going to the south gate." Standing up from his stool a tall elf silently walks towards the door, his greenish cloak flowing out behind him showing the sword on his belt and the bow on his back. Cloudburst looks at the two and says, "Simaril, Erendra, you will be good companions." Another voice pierces out. "Don't count yet, Cloudburst!" Laslo Tremaine, now dressed for the season (padded boots, padded gloves, padded eye-patch) moves quickly to join the trio. "I would much rather be at the docks than be stuck by the swamp, you see." he says with a wink of his good eye. The four then leave in an icy silence. Inside the Inn only four people aside from the hired help remain. Dragon Queen, Innsbruck, Phaedrus, and Raoul Thantious. Phaedrus says, <> Before he can continue Innsbruck says, "Well, I know where I should be. I need to lead the mercenaries so if you need me I'll be in the city somewhere." With that the tall leather clad woman known as Innsbruck leaves, ducking slightly through the door for the added length of her claymore. Dragon Queen glances over at Raoul and sighs a sigh of, "Why me?" and then glances over towards Phaedrus who currently seems to be staring off into space outside the window. Finally she says, "Ok ok ok! Let's go to the west gate and get it over with!" Phaedrus says nothing but quickly strides towards the door (it opens by itself) and walks out. Dragon Queen hurries to follow him, then stops and looks at Raoul. The slightly bald, slightly rotund man sighs heavily and ponderously leaves his seat. "Ok, I'll go, but I don't promise to be heroic or anything." Dragon Queen says nothing, but slightly smiles as she walks out the door. Raoul turns to look at the Gatekeeper, who shrugs and says, "Y'know, Raoul, you've gotta do what you've gotta do. If they are all being stupid, you've got to be stupid with them. The funny thing is, is that if I could I would be joining you... but in this situation I'll be needed here with the Inn. We work best together..." Raoul replies, "I don't quite agree with you Gatekeeper, though that is nothing new. If people are stupid you don't have to be stupid with them, but if they are being stupid because it's the smartest thing to be... well, then at that point I will be stupid with them." The Gatekeeper chuckles, his slightly rotund body quivering just a bit, and says, "It all works out the same in the end, though, eh?" Raoul stops a moment with his ink-stained finger on his one of his many chins, and looks as if he would say something, but then decides against it and follows the same direction as taken by Dragon Queen. / *--||------------> \ In one of the more scurvy sections of town, in one of the darker alleyways, three of your basic cutthroats murmur in low tones. It is the very nature of these types of men to murmur in low tones, so at the moment they do nothing out of the ordinary. If one could hear the murmuring it would go something like this. "Y'know, Joc, there be something strange in the air tonight." "I know what ye mean, mate. Just now I was passin' by the old man Thock's house and noticed that the whole bleedin' family was dead in the street. Now seeing as how they's dead and all I took the liberty of going through the house and findin' a good bit of coinage, but it's the strangest thing cause I then seen three more families in the same way... I got spooked and didn't even loot none." The third would look around and say, "I says that it's the evil of this blasted ice that be coatin' up everythin' around here. Means being that right now my right foot is frozen cause I had to sleep earlier and whens I woke, the bleedin' thing was covered in ice. I says you'll be seein' me with a peg by the end of this." The conversation would go on like this, and not one of them would notice a creeping tendril of ice as it makes its way towards them in one of the many gutters so often full of blood. Of course at that time it is too late for the three thieves, for as soon as this strange ice touches one he is paralyzed solid as a statue, and before the other two can react, the ice has them as well, and what happens next is a scene from the very pits of hell itself for the ice turns into daggers and cuts into their bodies in the most horrible of fashions and catches the blood as it spills to the cold ground. Engorged with the blood of men the ice moves on. The ice, an unclean entity quickly losing its innocence as death moves with it, turns red in its path of vileness, and soon the ice that forms in Edgekeep is as red as the bloodiest of sunsets. / *--||------------> \ As Phaedrus, Dragon Queen, and Raoul Thantious make their way through the clear air and the ice covered streets towards the west gate Phaedrus stops. His breath hangs in front of him, a bit of steam rises from his ice-covered cloak, and he looks north towards the Mithril Park, for they had taken the route of Goblin Row and turned west on West Gate Road. Dragon Queen says, "What are you stopping for? Cold or something?" She chuckles at this statement of the obvious then stops for Phaedrus' attitude is nothing less than deadly serious. <> Dragon Queen and Raoul watch Phaedrus carefully as he slowly begins to move north, but give no argument and continue their way to the west gate. Phaedrus studies the sky. Clear as the sky is, only a few stars show and the light of a half moon is not as comforting as it could be. He sniffs the air, tasting the chill as it bites, and then he quickly walks towards the park, his staff quiet at his side (he does not seem to use it as a walking stick). Ice completely coats him now, so thick that he seems to be a creature of the ice himself, but the ice on him has none of the red tinge of death, and it yields noiselessly to his movements as he advances towards the park. As he walks an unseen filament of crimson ice grows wider in a gutter on the side of the street. Soon the ice tongue is more than a yard wide and it sprouts, much as a vine would, more red tongues of ice that creep to intercept Phaedrus' path. He sees them, but moves ever onward towards the park. However, as he nears the Herb Shop, streaks of ice rapidly spread across the street in front of him. He stops and calmly watches as red ice fills the street behind him as well, cutting off his escape. Screams ring out in the distance from all directions, but Phaedrus seems not to hear them; he simply stands and watches as the red ice encircles him and then advances towards him. As it comes within a few yards, Phaedrus laughs almost insanely. <> he challenges, as if to some unseen foe. Then his form blurs and shifts, and he rises on leathery wings, leaving the icy street behind. The ice below him falls dormant, deprived of its target, as he silently flies north. He touches down at the edge of the frozen park, shifting back to his usual form as he does so. The icicles covering trees are now a woven lattice of blood red and strewn along the various paths are the frozen corpses of animals and other beings caught in the vile trap. Phaedrus stands under a tree, his head silently shaking in rage as he views the grisly scene. Suddenly, he leaps forward with impossible strength, covering eight yards in midair; as he does so, the tree above him shakes itself violently, releasing a deadly shower of crimson ice which barely misses Phaedrus as he flies clear. Phaedrus lands on his chest on the safety of the open ground, sliding to a stop on the slick coating of the ice covering him; he gets up quickly, laughing even a bit more insanely than before. <> He whispers one word and closes his eyes for a moment. There is a burst of blue light and all the trees in the immediate vicinity are cleansed of the deathly ice. Though the trees around him are normal again, the night mixed with evil quickly returns to the area and as Phaedrus moves further into the park the darkness is such that seeing becomes impossible. Reaching into a hidden pocket through the ice coating him, he takes out a small black rock and tosses it into the air before him. The smooth stone suddenly begins glowing and then hovers in the air about three feet above and five feet in front of his line of sight. As his head turns, so moves the stone. So with the light of the stone to guide him, he follows the main trail of the park into its icy depths. The ground here is covered with frozen crystals and each step cracks and hisses his presence so loudly that the more fragile creations of ice fall into pieces as he nears them. Then once more Phaedrus stops. He reaches through his cloak and through the ice covering it, and smoothly withdraws a blood-red longsword. He calmly adjusts his pack with his other hand, placing the staff on the pack in a place obviously made for it. Then slowly he walks forward, ever so slowly, almost as if expecting the attack to come at any moment, which of course it does. The attacker's movements are swift and he is able to gouge Phaedrus' arm with a long talon before Phaedrus counters with his sword. The attacker, a thin skeletal humanoid creature with foot long talons on the ends of it fingers and toes, smiles evilly at Phaedrus. Its skin is a translucent pink, so much like the ice surrounding the area that it must be ice, it's teeth long and pointed much like icicles, and it's eyes, two large orbs of pink malice. The eyes study Phaedrus as Phaedrus studies the creature before him. The scene is almost otherworldly, one creature of ice facing another among the redly glistening trees. Phaedrus advances slowly, and the creature hops back, so quickly that it almost seems to vanish and reappear. In a raspy rusty voice it says, "I killed your kind long before you were born, and I shall not die by your hand tonight. My purpose here is served and I will feast once more before my time is over!" Phaedrus says nothing but there is a look of ancient anger engraved on his face as he holds his sword ready for a blow. There is a blur of movement too fast to follow, as the two lunge as each other; a moment later they part, and now pink ichor spurts from a gaping wound in the creature's left arm. The creature screams in pain and rage, but rage no greater than that of Phaedrus. <> The creature's reply is a hideous snarl and the flashing of talon and fang alike as it springs towards Phaedrus. Phaedrus raises his blade and as the creature is upon him, swings down, splitting the skull of the creature and part of its neck. The sheer momentum of the creature, however, is enough to drive the two of them into one of the nearby trees, causing a rain of deadly icicles, many of which find their mark in the body of Phaedrus, and he slumps to the icy ground with a slight look of bewilderment on his face... / *--||------------> \ Oblivious to the events transpired, Dragon Queen and Raoul make their cold way to the west gate. Reflecting on the relative warmth and comfort of the Twisted Dagger, Raoul mutters, "Life happens everywhere... If I'm in the Dagger life will happen just the same as it will happen if I'm here at the west gate." Dragon Queen glances at him as he mutters and says, "What're you whining about?" Raoul says, "Life, DQ. It happens no matter where you are. So it may as well happen here at the west gate. Though I wish I'd brought a bit of food along..." He pats his somewhat large midsection, failing to notice the groan that escapes from Dragon Queen. As they walk over the frozen ground sounds of preparation from the wall find them. Sounds of crackling watch fires, the unmistakable sound of stone against sword, horses, armor, and others that mix to form a cacophony of confusion. At the gate itself, right inside, a large division of the town guard stands at attention. It is they who will first leave the protection of Edgekeep if the attack comes from the swamp. Raoul stops a man working at digging a post in and points to a large line of stalls and equipment stores and says, "Do you know if one of those places has any food?" The man glances at Raoul's rotund form and snickers a bit. "Heh heh, yeah mate. Ya walk down to about that corner in the distance and then take a right, and there be The Duke's Grog place. Serves the best in town, and I'll bet my toe on that." Raoul laughs and thanks the man, then walks over towards where Dragon Queen confers with a few of the guardsmen. He waits a few moments as they do not notice him, then coughs. He stamps his feet in the cold, claps his mittened hands, and coughs again, this time spewing bits of throat matter onto the nearest guardsman. Raoul says, "Oh! Terribly sorry! My goodness, I should say, I ought to cover my mouth next time, oh gee." Dragon Queen sighs and says, "What is it, Raoul?" Raoul says, "I have been informed that my skills may be needed down the street a bit. My base of activities shall be in, uh, the Duke's Grog." Dragon Queen gives him a puzzled look but says, "Ok, fine. If you need me just holler." Raoul salutes and happily makes his somewhat slow way to the Duke's Grog where it should be noted that he spent most of the evening, pausing only briefly to crush a small goblin that had gotten into the establishment and nibbled on his ankle. The rest of his evening occurred after the various events yet to be related happened. Never fear, for they shall be related as they transpire. To the south of the city Laslo, Erendra, Simaril, and Cloudburst stand on the boarded walk near the Barnacle Inn. For the most part they are silent, listening to the weight of ice causing boards to creak, and the near silent but relentless splash of the small late winter waves. Their thoughts twirl about their minds like dancing tops, all the same, yet all very different. Laslo is the one to break the icy silence, as he is also the one to receive the first glare of the evening. He continues. "I was just saying that it might be warmer in the Barnacle Inn than out on these frozen boards." Simaril begins to agree but Cloudburst cuts in. "If you wish to go inside, feel free to do so. If you have no other reason for being here than being warm, then I urge you to put yourself inside out of this cold." With a cold look, she turns her equine body and walks to the end of the boardwalk and stops, her gaze fixed on the darkening horizon. Dancing in the distant waves the pixies wait... Erendra gives Laslo a harsh look and joins Cloudburst at the end of the walk and watches the sea with her. Laslo looks at Simaril and his flying lizard. Simaril shrugs and moves over to Erendra and Cloudburst as well. The lizard lifts from Simaril's shoulder and flies in a low circle to perch on a rail in front of Laslo. Laslo smiles and reaches out to tickle the little green lizard's ears and gets lizard spit in the face as the lizard spits at him and then lifts quickly and flies to Simaril's shoulder. Laslo grimaces and huffs a large blast of steam into the air in front of his face, adjusts his black eyepatch, and saunters down the boards towards Cloudburst, Simaril, and Erendra. Suddenly he drops the coin he has been fingering and quickly bends down to pick it up. As he does so, the window he had been standing in front of suddenly explodes into the Barnacle Inn. He continues his bend into a roll and jumps off the board into a sandy part of the waterfront. Erendra, Simaril, and Cloudburst follow close behind. Laslo says, "Really, guys, I was only joking before! I was going to join you any moment there!" Cloudburst is not amused, but Simaril begins chuckling. Erendra shouts, "Did anyone see what it was??" About to answer, Laslo suddenly points to the water. Just making a turn around the end of the loading docks a huge schooner comes into full view. It moves through the water without causing waves and has no oars and no sail is up. The sheer size of the giant ship dwarfs anything at the docks and even in the harbor. The color is as black as the water around it, except for two small white areas near the front, almost as if eyes adorned it. As it continues moving it soon becomes evident that it moves directly towards the beach. Laslo mutters, "It'll soon hit high ground, surely they know?" Cloudburst says, "It's good that they be stupid! Let them sink their ship! The crew will be as good as ours." Simaril begins to point something out but then stops as they all stop. In the summer one might think they are seeing a heat mirage on the water, but now, in the dead silence of a night sparkling with the crystal silence of ice, a form that wavers is not a mirage. Before their eyes, the giant ship wavers in form until it's a watery blur before them. Then, a few moments later, the scene drastically changes as very much closer to shore is a group of twelve horsemen in black on very large, very black horses. Each horseman wears a blood red silk cloak that billows behind him like a fiery hellish spectre. Their swords also gleam the red color of blood as they are drawn and held high as the horsemen slowly make their way to the shore. Laslo makes a noise of annoyance and unsheathes his own blade. He holds it in front of him, its pommel glistening in the cold moonlight like a silver spider web, and carefully looks at it for a moment. He lifts his head and scrutinizes the red swords of the black horsemen quickly gaining the shore, and mutters, "Nifty swords..." As he says it, there is a twang and one of the horsemen falls. In that moment,the rest stop. Erendra resets her crossbow and fills it with another bolt. Simaril hisses, "How do you know they are enemies?" Erendra answers by harshly pulling Simaril down as a black bolt imbeds itself in the boards of the nearby boardwalk. Simaril was of course right in the bolt's path. "Well, I guess that makes them enemies now, huh?" Erendra says with a slightly evil grin. Then there is a noise, a low humming, almost the low drone of a giant beehive. The horsemen thrust their swords in front of them towards the beach and begin moving onto the shore and eventually up the beach. Cloudburst takes from a long sheathe hung on the right side of her saddlebags an ornamented iron spear and holds it quite expertly. "I have seen these men before," she says. "They have raided my homeland and now wish to raid yours." Laslo zigzags, dives, and rolls to a stop near her hooves and quickly says, "What? You mean these guys aren't even the demons Raincrow said were coming?" Answering just as quickly Cloudburst says, "They might be, then again they might not be... but does it really matter, now that they are here and coming against the city with drawn longswords?" In response two strings sound as both Simaril and Erendra fire their stringed weapons. Two more horsemen fall, leaving nine. "I wonder why they move so slow..." mutters Laslo. Just as the last syllable dies out the horsemen charge. "Why do you have to do these things?!?", cries Erendra as she desperately knocks another bolt. Simaril quickly puts his long bow on his shoulder and draws a long sword. Cloudburst stands proudly and suddenly charges at the forefront of the black horsemen. With her spear's extra length she is easily able to slip the point into the neck of the first horseman before he even gets near enough to attack her. Though she is not so lucky with the next one as he lashes out with his sword, cutting her badly on her upper left arm. As the man raises his sword for another blow, he suddenly cries out as a feathered bolt buries itself in one of the eye holes of his helm. His blow never reaches its mark. As he falls backwards in his saddle, his hands pull the reigns which causes his horse to tumble backwards, effectively tripping up other horsemen in the process. In the ensuing chaos, Cloudburst is able to make it to the back of the horsemen and engage another in bloody combat. At this time Laslo had reached the fray and watched carefully as one of the horsemen rode towards him like a red headed spectre a top a nightmare ghost. As the black horseman readied for a killing blow to Laslo's neck, Laslo quickly dove under the horse to the other side, in the process, nicely tripping up the horse causing the rider to fall. The black horseman quickly finds his feet and turns to face Laslo. The horseman laughs evilly and says, "The woman said you would be easy prey. How right she was!" He laughs as he attacks Laslo, swinging his blade in wide arcs intending to take Laslo's head off. Laslo, however, has been around. He >knows< that you die when your head is chopped off. It also occurred to him that it would be much better to chop the adversary's head off. Dancing like a cat around a poisonous snake, Laslo dodges, parries, and otherwise escapes the blade of the man in black until the horseman finally makes a mistake and is off balance for just a second. It is in that second the man in black stops laughing as Laslo quickly arcs his blade and severs the man's neck from one ear to the other. Continuing his swing, Laslo just barely parries a blow from behind as a second horseman attacks. The horseman suddenly stiffens, however, and then falls forward off Simaril's blade. Laslo acknowledges Simaril and they both turn to face 3 of the six horsemen left. The other three horsemen left face Cloudburst. Behind them is Erendra of Poren-La, however they don't know that, yet. They find out as two of the horsemen fall from their horses as Erendra cuts the cinches for the saddles. They land hard on the sand and one never gets a chance to regain his feet as Erendra quickly imbeds a blade into his throat as she dives over him. Rolling in the sand to her feet she then turns to face the other horseman. He stands ready and advances upon her. She reaches behind her neck and suddenly there is a blur as a blade flies towards the horseman. Another blur follows as the horseman catches the blade and whirls it right back at Erendra. She looks stunned as the blade imbeds itself in her shoulder, as if no one should move that fast. The man laughs a grisly laugh, steam pouring from his helm, and raises his sword for a head splitting blow. Though she is wounded she is not daft, and as the sword falls, so does she, but off to the side, only getting slightly nicked on the lower leg. The horseman is not fast to raise his blade from the sand and screams out as the very same dagger that had been in Erendra's shoulder now finds a mark on an unarmored wrist. He drops his sword and pulls at the dagger, but is much too slow this time as Erendra hurls two daggers at once, both imbedding themselves in his body under his arm. He stops working at the dagger in his hand (it must have stuck in bone) and stares at Erendra as blood wells from his mouth and he falls lifeless into the sand, his blood hissing and cracking as it freezes. Erendra laughs and then loses her balance and falls into the sand as well. She attempts to regain her feet but realizes it is impossible at the moment what with this gash in her leg and blood spilling from a razor wound in her shoulder. At the most she can set her crossbow, which she does. Nearer the water, Cloudburst combats the horseman facing her. He moves his blade with swift and accurate movements, chopping at her spear, causing her to back up. Soon she is in the secondary waves, the water nearly to her equine body. It is evident that she tires and even more evident as she stumbles and splashes in the waves for a brief moment. The black horseman takes the opportunity to press the attack and Cloudburst does all she can to simply parry and block for it is evident that this horseman is very good at what he does. A bolt flies past the horseman and nearly strikes Cloudburst. There is a gasp of horror from Erendra as she watches and resets her crossbow. Cloudburst blocks this attack and suddenly lashes out with the spear, connecting with the horseman's helm, twisting it sideways a bit. For a brief pause he straightens it out, then pauses forever as Cloudburst's spear finds it's way into his body where it twists and turns and finally leaves a hole so large that blood spills out in a great torrent, making the water seem like a salty soup of blood. A bit farther from the water Laslo and Simaril face the three remaining horsemen. Laslo looks at Simaril, and Simaril looks at Laslo. They nod. They smile at the horsemen and Simaril says, "Y'know, did you hear the one about...". He pauses then, and they both make a quick salute and turn around. Then they run away back towards the barnacle inn. The horsemen seem amazed at this turn of events and laugh after a moment. Another moment goes by and they begin chasing Laslo and Simaril. As the horsemen reach the inn Laslo and Simaril are not to be found and the horsemen stop to ponder. One begins to point over in the distance where something moves, then cries out as Laslo jumps from the roof and sends both he and the horseman into the other two horsemen. Simaril then jumps out from under the boardwalk and quickly takes the first horseman, ripping his throat with his long sword. The horseman under Laslo quickly breathes his last breath as Laslo finds a weak spot under the armor and forces his blade into it. The horseman's scream is short. The last horseman stands, then grabs his head in an attempt to pull a bolt from his helm, and falls down in the attempt. He does not get up again. Erendra smiles as she loses consciousness in the bloody sand. Laslo finds his feet, attempts to brush off the glistening ice dust off his black clothing, and walks over to Simaril who does the same. They are both basically unhurt. They turn towards the water and see Erendra, her golden hair spattered with blood, trying to stop the bleeding of her shoulder. Laslo and Simaril run down into the sand and stop near Erendra. Laslo leaves Simaril to help Erendra and goes to Cloudburst who savagely bandages her wounded arm, the worse of her many wounds. Laslo explains Erendra's apparent condition and the quickly make their way to her and Simaril. He finishes up bandaging her shoulder and quickly does her leg wound. She moans once and then opens her eyes. "And those were just little cuts... makes ya wonder what the big ones are like, huh?" she says with a weak smile. They help her out of the sand and begin walking towards the south gate, their breaths encasing them in a death-like shroud. As they near the boardwalk of the Barnacle Inn a low droning noise begins. The four stop and turn around. The shapes of the black horsemen and their horses blur and shift and in cold moment there is a giant black ship with two glowing white spots in the water of the harbor. As they watch it, it blurs once more and very soon there are twelve more horsemen in the water slowly making their way to the beach. Erendra mutters a few unprintable obscenities unbecoming her elven maiden visage, and Cloudburst swears an oath to the various gods she believes in. Suddenly a small green lizard lights upon Simaril's shoulder and chitters into his ear. Simaril frowns and says, "He says that there is a small black object floating where the ship was." Laslo looks back towards the horsemen and says, "I was worried about the swamp? Is that why I'm here? ... Right, then. Right behind them, actually... I'm not sure what we can do about it, really, because they're in our way." Cloudburst says, "I shall destroy the item. I can swim and I can run faster than them. You will need to distract them." Erendra slowly sets her crossbow and Simaril nocks an arrow into his longbow. Laslo says, "You know, Cloudburst, if this doesn't work we're all goners this time." She says nothing but begins running off to the side in an attempt to get around the close group of horsemen who seem not to notice her. A few moments later Erendra and Simaril both fire their weapons, and one of the horsemen drop, while one yanks a bolt from his armor. Erendra apologizes. "I'm a bit dizzy... " Simaril grunts and quickly begins firing arrows for the horsemen have begun their charge and like a nightmare that won't quit, it happens just the same. Two, three, four more horsemen drop, but the deadly black charge continues, their billowing red cloaks like the flames of hell behind them. Laslo sighs and says, "Well, if one of you happen to survive, give my best to those who deserve it." He then wearily holds his longsword in front of him and makes ready for the onslaught and a death that he knows is soon to be coming. Simaril and Erendra continue firing but both know that at the rate they are going at least 6 horsemen will reach them in a matter of seconds. At nearly the last moment, the moment when Erendra had put down her crossbow and pulled out four knives, the moment when Simaril dropped his longbow to favor his long sword, the moment when the rage of battle sets in and you know there is a good chance that death is near, the horsemen stop. They wheel their horses around in complete disregard for the bloody trio before them and begin their charge back down the beach. In the distance Cloudburst swims hurriedly through the black water as stars shimmer in it like tiny fires, casting glances behind her as she swims. The horsemen reach the water and then stop in grim resignation. Suddenly they take their helms off to reveal faces of ghostly white, the skin hanging off the bones like limp seaweed on the skeleton of a dead ship, and their tongues eels, swishing back and forth gulping air as if it were food. They scream an unearthly scream and their cloaks float from their backs and form giant jelly fish like creatures in the air, red tentacles dropping almost to the surface of the water as they slowly move off the beach towards cloudburst. The horsemen scream again and the jelly fish begin pulsating in the air, causing cold drafts of air to hit the water causing small ripples to form under them. The horsemen then throw their helms into the water and raise their red icy swords. As one their swords fall and each splits the head of another in a splash of seaweed and gore. The horsemen fall into the cold sand and water and are still. The jelly fish creatures still slowly move into the water and Cloudburst, seeing them, has a look of panic about her and she swims even faster towards Simaril's chirping flying lizard. It becomes obvious to those on the beach that Cloudburst will not make it to the chirping lizard before the jelly fish creatures reach her. She strains valiantly, but soon she knows it as well. Laslo begins to turn away, not wanting to watch what may happen when Erendra exclaims, "That's why they killed each other..." Laslo turns quickly to see the forms of the horses beginning to waver and blur, as well as the dead horsemen themselves. Simaril mutters something about how he hears it's warmer in the south, and then cries out, "No! Don't touch it!" But the lizard does not hear him. It swoops down to the water surface and begins nudging the black thing towards cloudburst, chirping in pain as it does so. Simaril looks aghast as the little creature does this, but says nothing. Then Cloudburst cries out in pain as one of the jelly fish descend upon her and envelope her body in stinging red tentacles. She continues swimming however, and cries out once more as another jelly fish creature envelopes her. She fights just enough to tear a hole that she can see out of. Then she and the lizard bump into each other. From the shore the horsemen blur and fade and a moment later there is a wavering in the water where Cloudburst swam. There begins a loud droning, and then nothing as the blur and the jellyfish disappear and Cloudburst holds up two black objects and screams a yell of victory. The lizard settles upon her bleeding back and she begins swimming back to shore. Making it to the water's edge she falls into the sand and the lizard flies feebly to Simaril's shoulder where it immediately falls asleep. Laslo and Simaril help her to her feet and move her into the Barnacle Inn, returning to help Erendra as well. "You are burnt real bad, Cloudburst." Erendra says. "Someone get a healer...." Cloudburst tries to grab Erendra's arm but fails. Cloudburst says, instead, "Don't... I need to heal myself... Please just take the evil pieces of the horsemen to a fire and burn them separately..." Simaril assures her that they will and begins to make a fire in the inn. Laslo stands in the open doorway keeping an eye out on the water, this time the cold bothering him hardly at all, and a cold gleam in his good eye. Periodically he wipes blood from a cut on his head, but soon it freezes and no more blood pours. "You know, Simaril," Laslo says, "I wonder if any of those swords are out there sitting in the sand just getting old..." He turns to the three who look at him quite strangely. Then a huge grin breaks his grim face and with a flip of a coin he winks at them and wanders out onto the boardwalk. / *--||------------> \ At and upon the south gate the guards watch with a feeling of cold relief. Tonight did not seem to be the night they would witness the deaths of heroes. The guards would have liked to help of course, but their orders were like the ice around them: very clear. One of the captains had earlier stood before them in the cold twilight of early evening and said, "You have been ordered to engage the enemy ONLY if the walls are breached." Nothing more need be said to the guardsmen. Disobedience meant death, obedience meant reward. The choice was simple as they watched Erendra, Cloudburst, Laslo, and Simaril nearly perish in the far distance. Around the wall the rest of the guardsmen had the same message given them and they stood knowing that if the need to fight arises, they can not fall- for if they do so shall Edgekeep. At the north gate the guards watch in icy silence as group of around three hundred armed men slowly move through the north gate and head north. In front of the men is a knight on a horse; Gardan. Occasionally Gardan makes a sign and says a quick word to someone near him and the person peels off the contingent and takes a score of men with him off to one side or the other where they set up defenses. Eventually there are only a few score men left with Gardan in the middle of the farmlands to the north of the city; the rest of the men setting up secondary and tertiary defenses. It seems as if the gods had been waiting for the men to finish readying themselves for an attack, for very soon a breathless runner returns with the news. "Gardan!" he pants, his breath sending a steamy plume above him. Gardan turns towards the man and evenly says, "Did they chase you?" The man splutters once and then regains his composure. "Sir, I come to quickly report that a large contingent of heavily armed mountain trolls will be here very soon." Gardan studies the horizon for a moment and gazes at the mountains in the distance. How long must the trolls have been moving to be here already? Surely before the ice arrived... The man continues to stand at a tired attention filling the air around them with his steamy breath. Gardan says, "What exactly do you mean by large? Compare their numbers to ours." The man hastily says, "They outnumber us three to one, sir." There are audible gasps from men nearby. Gardan answers. "Three to one is not enough!" He turns to the men appointed captains and says, "Go! See to your men and make ready for an attack! We need to send out the first squad to meet the trolls to see if they are hostile. If they are, get the archers to reduce their numbers a bit before my group goes in. Make sure the backup forces stay put to keep the trolls back if we fall." The men nod and are off quickly. Gardan turns to the men around him. "If any of you have families you would like to see again go join one of the backup forces..." / *--||------------> \ Inside the city Innsbruck speaks with a few of the mercenary captains. One of them says, "Guildmaster, I've been informed that trolls attack from the north. Should I take a few squads and meet them?" Innsbruck shakes her head, shaking off a few crystals of ice that had accumulated on her short dark hair. "The knight is taking care of the north... or at least I hope he is..." She muses a moment. "On second thought, you better at least send a couple squads to the north gate to help the guardsmen out if the trolls make it to the city." The man nods and moves away. Innsbruck turns to another mercenary and says, "I have a bad feeling about the ruins... I want to take two squads with me to check them out right now. Get two of the better squads." The man nods. Innsbruck stands, gazing into the sky which has turned a light grey, though there are no clouds. It seems as if the sun is slowly losing its brilliance as the evil grows ever closer. The cracking of ice behind her warns of the captain's approach. "Guildmaster, the men are ready, though they're not too keen on going into the ruins right now... Have you seen the sky yet?" Innsbruck looks at the man strangely and says, "It's quite large, isn't it?", and then mounts her horse and rides towards the ruins with two squads of mercenaries behind her. / *--||------------> \ At the east gate Lanoi and Raincrow partake in a heated discussion about what the best arrow material is when Qwee walks up to them, his cloak billowing about like smoke about his legs, and says, "Hey guys, what are we actually doing here next to the forest?" Raincrow and Lanoi do not hear him and discuss whether or not it is viable to put Erendra's glass tips on wooden or metal arrows. Qwee interrupts them and asks again. Lanoi sighs, "Well, you know, we went into the demon world a while ago. We fought some nasty things, eh? Maybe, here at the east gate, we won't have to fight nasty things as much..." Nodding with a smile that seems to say, "See?", Raincrow then continues the arrow discussion. Qwee shrugs and disappears into the shadows. On top of the gate Kilgore and Sivinski look over the small bit of cleared land into the distant darkness comprising the eastern forest. Bundled up with dwarven cloaks, gloves, hats, and boots, Sivinski points a stubby arm into the gloom of the forest and says, "I can see why they'll run out and attack us from there. That's gotta be one of the most vile nasty places I've seen in quite a while." Kilgore agrees and suddenly stops. He motions Sivinski to be quiet and grabs a guard by the arm. "Look over there!" he hisses. The guard squints into the distant gloom and shakes his head. "I see nothing, Kilgore Trout, however I'm not an elf." Kilgore nods. Sivinski holds up an apparatus to his eyes and gasps audibly and turns to Kilgore. "You suppose Lanoi and Raincrow ought to get up here?" Kilgore smiles grimly, his ashen features making him even more grim looking, and calls down. "Lanoi! Raincrow! I think we have a problem!" Lanoi quickly stops his discussion with Raincrow and they both make their way to the top of the wall. Qwee emerges from the shadows and joins them. Lanoi scrutinizes the distance for a few cold moments and says, "I'm not sure what I'm looking for Kilgore." Kilgore says, "Over to the right there, about two hundred feet from the path..." Raincrow gasps. "Lanoi, you are an elf, aren't you? That thing is HUGE! It's getting closer, too..." Sivinski holds a pair of glasses to his eyes and exclaims, quite loudly, "May the dwarven deities protect me this darkening icy afternoon!" It soon becomes apparent to non-elves and non-magically enhanced vision people alike that there is something going on between them and the forest. A lone magician decides to get a better look by providing some light. A few words are said, a few arms are waved, and suddenly a ball of energy sprouts from his hands and shoots over towards the forest. As it nears the forest it begins to climb and finally as it reaches a height of well over the tallest tree it explodes into a brilliant blue light, enveloping the surrounding area in a shimmering white glow. There is a terrible scream from the grim direction of the forest as the light reveals a huge animal so hideous in its ghastly white appearance that it can only be classified as a monster. It's sickly white base stretches at least fifty feet from end to end, not including the huge writhing tentacle like structures that twist and churn across the ground around it, obviously causing its slow movement. Upwards from the base a mammoth quivering body protrudes. Its diameter as thick as the base, it rises over four men tall, sporting huge folds of wrinkly white flesh with bristly yellow hairs dripping some putrid secretion from its body. About forty feet from the base another series of tentacle-like structures weave and wave in the air like a mad conductor. With a smaller group of tentacles at the end of each one it rips vegetation from the earth around it for quite some distance. From the center of each of these groups of tentacles a sickly light bathes the area in a hellish alien glow. Upwards from the tentacles a rounded area covered with darkish spots that might be eyes encircle a huge gaping hole filled with long needle like teeth which serves the beast well as it dumps the large clods of earth and vegetation into it from its writhing tentacles. The entire beast is an off white/yellow color. And of course it nears the city wall each moment. / *--||------------> \ The stench of the swamp is not really describable, certainly not describable when mixed with the heady sweats of a goblin army that had been marching through the cold mud all day long. But of course goblins don't much care about those odiferous things, and to be honest, many items of odor that would make a normal man retch are looked upon with muc