The Storm’s Debt
“My story, you ask? What is my story and reason for being in this forsaken land?” The harlequin painted woman with sharp elven features and strange lavender eyes eyed him with a kind of hawkish intensity. Her voice, as he had gotten to know, she rarely raised above a whisper. She ran a pale hand through her long white hair and sighed. “To ask my story is to ask that of my people, for I am part of them as they are of me, though I am sundered from them upon this unyielding land.” Her last words were spoken with a hard set to her features, and there was a far off look in those strange eyes of hers. “What ship will bear me hence across so wide a sea, I cannot See… for all that lies that way is gone.”
It was not unusual for her to speak in half riddles and portents, for she was a Mystic, or so she said. What she meant by that exactly, he was not entirely sure but she seemed to use the title as if that should carry some weight with him and be impressive, scary even. As of yet, he had seen little from the Valkin’vi looking woman with the elven pointed ears of which to be frightened. Intrigued, perhaps, and weary even, but not scared. All he really knew was that this woman was rumored to See the future in the stars, read stones, and could sometimes even know the history of objects if she touched them. She sat before her brazier most nights in a spell circle and chanted or read her cards. Women came to her to know if they were to bear children, warriors to receive strength from her before battle. But one more thing he knew also: she was dangerous, for he had seen what happened to those who assaulted her. Even at a hundred paces her aim with her bow was perfect. The people of this settlement feared her, even as they sought her uncanny Diving.
She startled him from his reflections as she began to sing softly. He had heard her sing on many occasions, calling the rain or in the furry of battle. Her screaming war cry could chill the blood of any, and whatever tongue she spoke made him uneasy. This song, however, was different. It was soft, and somehow very sad. She gazed into the glowing embers of the dying fire of the Inn and sang of her people, the mythical Vau’An’dar, or Storm Elves.
Beyond where grows the silver thorn,
And Where the Eldest dwell,
O’re waves which still no mortal braves,
There is a land as stories tell.
From Sunrise and Set still storm born far,
There is a land of Mist.
Wherein dwell the great Sea Lords,
That kindred Elf and Valkin kissed.
Forged they in War and born of Storm,
They are the kin apart.
Peaceful lovers of soft starlight,
Yet still are they of battle heart.
For ages they dwelt sundered from all,
Bearing only the bravest who dared the Mist.
They mighty grew of lore and sea,
And n’er the mainland missed.
Even the Eldar this kin forgot,
And to Men they were but tale.
But soon there came unto this kin,
A shadowed, Seer’s gale.
They who were of Valkin’vi Sight,
The Foretelling dreams did dream.
Of Chaos, Light, and world’s ending,
The Mystic’s minds did scream.
And so was called the Gathering,
Came hence all Sea Elf Clans.
There in bright Vau’Xannen’nor,
They laid their desperate plans.
One would go on fastest ship,
To the Lords of Elves and Men;
To warn of Shadowed things to come,
That they might stop this End.
But in the Mist the shadows lurked,
And struck that missive ship.
A battle waged against dire foes,
The sails were rent and timbers split.
The missive ship n’er warned the Lords,
For she made landfall too late.
She could not stop tides of Prophecy,
Nor the breaking of the world abate.
Now there is no ship returning hence,
For none now know the way.
The widest sea between us lies,
If the Storm Elves live, now none can say.
He almost thought he saw her whip a tear from her eye, but she turned away back into the shadows too fast for him to really tell. For a long time there was a heavy silence between them, for she had fallen into a sullen thoughtfulness. However, at last, she resumed speaking.
“My ship was attacked in the Mist which protects our island homeland. Never in all our long history had this happened, and so I know some ill will was at work there. I was not meant to make it to warn the lost Lords of this land, and so the world was changed. The crew was slain, all, and I am still unsure how and why I survived at all. I too took grievous wound, yet it is my curse to live.” She sighed bitterly. “No maps that I had are of any use now, for all the lands have changed from what once they were. I am adrift upon this strange sea, and it has not been given to me to know my fate.”
Once more the harlequin painted elven looking woman sat forward. Her sharp features were a mask of emotionlessness. “Once I was Ana’Vaun’Ithily’ inen’ Drea’Mornay, Mystic of the Winter Moon. Once I was the youngest daughter of the Lord of the Winter Moon, he who was High Lord of the Vau’An’dar. Once I was an aspiring Mystic of my Order, destined to be a Storm Dancer. Now… now I am just Vaun. I am a stranger in a strange land… and for all I know I am the last of my People.”
Oddly, he did not gather any sense of loss from her, nor any emotion at all for that matter. But then, she was a very odd creature, this Vaun. He had seen her pronounce that a shepherd’s entire flock had been ravaged by wolves in much the same manner that she Saw the mate of a young maid coming into her life soon. If what she said was true and she was of the mysterious and elusive race of the Storm Elves, then he was not surprised at all. However, he found the thought of her possibly being the last a little sad, for they seemed so unique a people.
Vaun stood at last, gazing out the window at the star strewn night. “I have given you your tale as I owed you, Garret Mavers. Payment as promised for tending to my wounds and directing me here. The debt between us no longer stands.” She bowed slightly and in the silent sweep of her skirts was gone.
September tales for Garret...
Moderator: Admin
*As the Storm Elf leaves, Dallid sits down beside Garret.*
Significant events have occurred since we last spoke Garret. As before, in the interest of recorded history, I am willing to offer my perspective of recent weeks.
I will start with the conclusion of the Brokehill Quest. Many have talked about the journey there, and what was witnessed at the Tower, but important information was unveiled within my own mind – information I will share now.
For months a Will had been imparting visions to me – urging me to find and deal with the alarming events that eventually destroyed the town of Brokehill. As we neared the dead village, the visions became more frequent, overwhelming. Some times I was even urged to perform certain actions, at other times my will was entirely overridden – my body moving at the direction of an external force. It was during one such time, when my body was directed to remove the Obelisk from its pedestal, that I experienced my final vision – explaining all.
Long ago, in another world, two armies fought – one of men, the other of an Orcish race. Standing upon his Tower, a powerful mage set the full might of his force against his foe – annihilating the Orcish hoard. However, the spells power was overwhelming, destroying also the human army, and the mage, himself.
Still, he was seen as a hero, and his body was buried in a mausoleum beneath his Tower.
Meanwhile, in our world, the Obelisk was set upon its pedestal, here in Phantara.
Hundreds of years later, in the other world, a nomadic people found the old Mage Tower, and decided the location was suitable for settlement. Some three hundred moved into the Tower and constructed a village around it. They tilled the fields and, for a short time, lived a prosperous life.
However, as they worked the fields, they uncovered the remains of the ancient soldiers who fought there. In so doing, they released a side effect of the spell that slew them, and mystical plague spread through Brokehill.
The Elder of Brokehill, a powerful mage in his own right, recognized the nature and power of the plague, and sought to prevent it from spreading throughout the world. Having learned much from studying the records contained within the Tower, he cast a great spell to contain Brokehill – to prevent anyone from leaving and thus spreading the plague. The ancient dead awoke and surrounded the village and allowed no one to pass.
This spell, too, had a side effect. The containment circle around Brokehill was indeed also a sending circle. Still, one would expect nothing to come of this.
However, in our world, the Cataclysm was happening. The walls between worlds were damaged, even obliterated, and the Obelisk in the mausoleum in our world could be seen as a Returning Beacon. Brokehill, in its Sending Circle, came to it.
To Phantara, it was as much an abomination as the Undead. It was not of Phantara, it should not exist here. Now the specters of Brokehills Containment Circle, indeed, even those who died of the plague, could not return to the Circle. They were not a part of Phantara’s Cycle, so they were stuck as undead within Brokehills bubble of unreality.
Around that bubble, Nature lashed against the alien cyst in the form of a terrible storm. Eventually the Circle, itself, called for help – sending me visions, calling me here. Why it chose me, I do not know. Because I heal life, and it sought someone to heal Phantara? Because I focus energies to banish that which doesn’t belong, so was summoned to banish Brokehill from Phantara? Because I am attuned to Nature in the manner of the Druids, Nature chose to try to communicate with me? A summation of who I am? Chaotic chance?
Regardless, Phantara guided me, controlled me, and so I reach the Obelisk and remove it from its pedestal – disrupting its Returning Beacon and sending Brokehill back to where it came.
That is what I was shown. Now for the events of the past several days. There was much political discussion, of which I took no part. I’ll leave that for another to detail.
I will talk about the screams we’ve been hearing at night for the last several weeks. We discovered that these screams came from Silvani women in the area that had been cursed to experience the deaths that occurred around them. They, themselves, do not appear directly involved with the murders of our townsfolk, and seek an end to their curse. Lao and others are attempting to help them.
Their torturous cries do serve as a macabre indicator of the numerous murders occurring here. We discovered one such murder that night.
The boy Gaul came into town covered in the blood of another, declaring he had just witnessed a thin man killing a young woman with an axe. Investigating adventurers found the body horribly mutilated, except for the face, which was undamaged, and covered beneath clean, fine cloth. We attempted to track the killer, but his trail vanished suddenly, as if by teleportation or flight, much like Sikoku’s assailant several months earlier.
Based on this, I wished to visit the Graveyard, as I feared some terrible ritual may be underway, one that might involve many of the recent murders. Lao advised against taking on the Graveyard at night, though, and suggested cleansing it during the day, and returning to it again the following night, hopefully to face fewer undead defenders. Though I had concern about any delay, his words held wisdom, and might well save lives. So tonight the Graveyard would not be attacked.
A bard arrived at the Inn soon after, claiming a wraith had stolen her voice. She had apparently entered into a bargain with the undead creature, and for months it had been teaching her its songs. But finally it collected its payment, and took her voice.
I joined the party that set out to destroy the wraith. Out in the woods we met many undead things, many of which seemed to phase in and out of reality. Soon we were seeing spectral villagers, some of whom could not see us. We even came across a ghostly Robert, crying about Haven being overrun and in flames. Evil and powerful specters assailed us – ones whom our weapons and magics only occasionally affected. We were swiftly being overpowered. Several of us, including myself, were affected by Fear spells from time to time.
Then the ground began to rumble, and a man began to rise from the ground. It was Florin. I cast a Banish spell against him, and the energies took him just beneath the heart. His ribcage dissipated into the ether, but then began to reform. I began to summon forth more power immediately, but Florin was very near, and I didn’t have time. I focused my own essence into what little energy I had collected, and cast it at Florin. I poured most of what was left into a second, follow-up blast, and Florin was gone. Nearly drained of essence, I nearly followed him into oblivion, and collapsed to the ground.
Giddeon and Sikozu picked me up and got me back to Haven while other warriors fought against the Specters. Eventually they, too, retreated back to town.
I was useless for some time afterward, as merely staying alive required all my concentration. But gradually I regained my essence, and by the time a lizardman asked for aid from Haven, I was ready once more to assist.
You are aware how, for a time, no fires would light. This was also true in the village of the Lizardmen. Unfortunately a magical barrier against great and ancient evil was maintained through fire. When those fires went out, the great evil became free and attacked the village. The Lizardmen were swiftly overrun. Much of Haven’s adventurers set out to help.
We met the first wave of undead just outside of the village, where they had just slaughtered a group of Lizardmen. I set to healing one of the fallen while the others dealt with the undead. When the healing was complete, I joined in the fray, Banishing one abomination after another, until I reached their leader. I hit it solidly with a Banish spell, and it laughed at me, then drove its spear through my chest.
I don’t recall who healed me, but I was soon back on my feet and helping the adventurer’s battle their way through the Lizard village. One of our fighters overheard an undead minion boasting how ‘Florin was but a child compared with our Dark Master’, and by how that one creature could laugh off my Banish spell, I could believe it. Still we fought on, making steady progress, until the needs of the wounded pulled me from the front lines.
I revived many so they could rejoin the battle, but while healing Sikozu, one of the more powerful monstrosities broke through our lines, placed a spear at her throat, locked eyes with me and said ‘Beg.’
Without interrupting the flow of healing magic, I did.
This seemed to take the creature back a bit, but then he made further demands.
‘Leave this place! Return to your village and leave my cave in peace!’
I agreed, and it left to rejoin the fight. Upon restoring Sikozu to full health, I indeed left the battle and returned to Haven. I will do whatever it takes to save a life, but I will hold no bargains with the undead. However, I still felt compelled to at least adhere to the letter of the accord.
In Haven I found Lao and Ming and told them what was happening. I then turned around and set out once more for the Lizardman village, having fulfilled my promise to return to Haven. Ming and Lao accompanied me, and I was glad for their presence.
Arriving back at the battle, I helped again with the wounded while the others fought. When my healing services were no longer required, I rejoined the fray. By now, the adventurers had fought their way to the cave that seemed the source of the undead. I destroyed many things outside it, but left the cave alone, as agreed. Soon my companions had recast the spell that held the evil back, and the last of our enemies vanished.
The next morning, a man arrived claiming to be a messenger of King Silverthorne. He claimed the King wished to meet with representatives of Haven at 1:30 to discuss our swearing fealty to him. We agreed to the meeting, and selected our representatives.
Before the meeting, however we set out to destroy the alchemically altered giant ants. Without too much difficulty, we fought our way into their anthill and slew the queen. While some dealt with the eggs, the rest of us tracked down a group of fleeing ants and killed them. By all indications the entire hive was destroyed. Provided it had not sought to spawn new hives before we arrived, we should have no more trouble from them. Perhaps the sages should see if the matter is truly closed.
On our way back to Haven, I saw Gaul wandering away from the village alone. He said he was off to collect mushrooms for Robert, and that he would be safe because of the path he was taking. This ‘safe path’ sounded intriguing, and as Gaul should not be out alone, I chose to accompany him.
The path was long and meandering – taking us several hours to at last arrive at a set of ruins roughly a half-hours walk from Haven. However there was certainly a lack of animal and insect life along the trail – somehow they were kept away. I, myself, felt nothing out of the ordinary, nor did Gaul, when I asked him.
As we neared our destination, a fellow healer-druid caught up with us. He had been worried about my disappearance, and had tracked after me. I apologized for my unannounced departure. I seem to be doing that sort of thing more and more often. I’ve never been the most social of creatures, but lately I seem to have become more and more distant from my fellow villagers. I had promised Gideon I’d be at his Guild meeting this morning, but chose instead to meditate in the wilderness. My increased isolationism and lack of social dependability is likely a symptom of my Totem’s call – a call I now intend to answer.
That the tracker had found us was most fortunate, for Gaul had not come out here to collect mushrooms. Instead, he sought out his brother, Tomas, from his hiding space to try to convince him to come home. Tomas had killed Lilly, the woman we had found last night, for deciding to marry another suitor. Tomas proved quite insane, and when we told him he must either leave or submit to Haven justice, he attacked. The tracker rendered him unconscious and together we took him back to Haven.
When we arrived, we discovered the meeting with Silverthorne did not go well. Apparently the King was an imposter, and non-humans under his rule would live as slaves. Our representatives refused to serve him, and thus his army was now marching on us. We quickly set about preparing our defenses.
Once again, Arthos guided us on constructing a large, spiked pit trap. We established barricades on our side of the trap. Ug had learned a new, powerfully destructive spell, and he set about casting it with four other mages. A rank of warriors formed up in front of their casting circle to defend it.
The enemy army arrived after sunset, and forced their first ranks into the pit trap. Perhaps a hundred lives were lost in the first half minute. By then, the pits were full, and the army marched across the corpses of their fallen.
Then Ug’s spell went off – with devastating results. A massive fireball consumed hundreds of the attacking army, in addition to all of our own defenders. I used the ring of protection granted by King Roderick to become a nigh-invulnerable statue, and was thus spared of the blast. As soon as the fires subsided, I reverted to normal – I had to save as many of the fallen as I could, and time was of the essence.
I placed the Healing Clamp on the closest charred body. The next, though savable under better circumstances, I had to pass over, as that person, and Avyana by appearance, would require too much time to stabilize. The third person I came across was Curufin – immobile but apparently unharmed – he, too, had used a Ring of Protection. The forth body was near death, but could be stabilized quickly, so I dragged her over to the one with the Healing Clamp. I channeled my own essence into a fifth burn victim to instantly stabilize him. I could not do this again, as a second such act would surely be my end. I carried the stabilized, though still gravely injured Phoenix warrior to the others I’d be working on.
I performed surgery on one, who turned out to be Sikozu after the burned flesh mended, then the one with the clamp, a dwarf, received her surgery. By now the Silverthorne soldiers had recovered from their shock and were streaming passed the barricades – largely ignoring the sole healer standing amongst the charred corpses. My healing was interrupted briefly when one anxious warrior attacked, but my quickly uttered words of surrender placated him, and guards were placed around me. I was thankful for them, for their presence prevented further attacks on me. I was able to save three, but no more.
The guards had taken my shield, but had missed the mace beneath my cloak. Nor did they search me for the other precious items I held. When my work was complete, those I had healed and I were escorted to the fire pit by the Inn.
I circulated about the village, performing rites over the fallen, then sat for some time, meditating on our circumstance. Eventually Grok walked passed, and whispered for me to follow. I did so without question.
She took me out of the village to meet with Ka, Corbyn, and several other freedom fighters. They had a plan for Ug to cast a firestorm spell to overcome the guards and retake Haven.
Ka and Corbyn left to arrange things with Ug, and the rest of us waited just outside Haven, with the weapons Grok had collected.
Roughly an hour later we saw the firestorm and rushed forth out of the woods and back into Haven. The few surviving guards were fleeing the village. We had retaken it.
Many adventurers now set about resurrecting their fallen comrades. I grimaced at the resulting numerous disruptions of the Circle. I will prevent death by any means necessary, but never undo it. The circle travels in one, unified direction – the act of the reverse jump of resurrection is perhaps as great an abomination as are the undead. At least this disruption is only momentary.
While the mages and alchemists brought the dead to life, many of the rest of us set off after the Silverthorne King. We met his elite troops in combat, and I was soon once more healing our wounded. One Silverthorne soldier was gravely wounded and brought to me for healing, so he might later be interrogated. He was left with Kidwyn and I to guard.
But then Nuk came by with undead minions to reinforce our side. Undead cannot be tolerated – whatever their purpose. I Banished one of them, and Nuk instructed the other to run. I gave chase and destroyed it, as well. Kidwyn had likewise chosen that moment to rejoin the battle, and when I returned to the healing area, the Silverthorne soldier was gone.
I was glad. This night had seen too much death as it was, and at least this soldier would live, provided he survived the wilderness.
I chastised Nuk about creating undead, though I doubt I had any influence. I do hope she does so no longer, for there are other Undead Slayers in Haven. While I will harm no living being, even, I have decided, a Necromancer, the others have no such qualms.
The numerous resurrections required us to obtain additional special herbs, so after the battle a party set out for the Graveyard. Fortunately the Graveyard was cleansed during the day, so little was left to defy us that night. However, we did interrupt a necromancer from his work, though we were unable to catch him. He vanished from the Graveyard. Could the numerous murders around Haven be related to him? What dire scheme is he up to? Another matter the Sages should perhaps consider.
So ends my tale. I leave Haven shortly to commune with nature and attune myself to the circle. I go to achieve my Totem, and will not be back anytime soon. The mind of the Unicorn is a truly alien thing, and is not nearly as susceptible to outside influences. One of the undeads greatest weapons against me is their unnatural fear, to which I will be immune upon my return. I also suspect that if the Circle should try to communicate with me again after I have achieved the Totem, it will be an easier affair. If… When again I return, I will be of different body and mind, and likely far less compatable with standard sentient society. This is likely the last time I will speak with you at length, Garret, though I strongly support the preservation of knowledge. I will try to at least continue maintaining a journal that I can pass on to you.
May your life be long and fulfilling, Garret. Good day.
Significant events have occurred since we last spoke Garret. As before, in the interest of recorded history, I am willing to offer my perspective of recent weeks.
I will start with the conclusion of the Brokehill Quest. Many have talked about the journey there, and what was witnessed at the Tower, but important information was unveiled within my own mind – information I will share now.
For months a Will had been imparting visions to me – urging me to find and deal with the alarming events that eventually destroyed the town of Brokehill. As we neared the dead village, the visions became more frequent, overwhelming. Some times I was even urged to perform certain actions, at other times my will was entirely overridden – my body moving at the direction of an external force. It was during one such time, when my body was directed to remove the Obelisk from its pedestal, that I experienced my final vision – explaining all.
Long ago, in another world, two armies fought – one of men, the other of an Orcish race. Standing upon his Tower, a powerful mage set the full might of his force against his foe – annihilating the Orcish hoard. However, the spells power was overwhelming, destroying also the human army, and the mage, himself.
Still, he was seen as a hero, and his body was buried in a mausoleum beneath his Tower.
Meanwhile, in our world, the Obelisk was set upon its pedestal, here in Phantara.
Hundreds of years later, in the other world, a nomadic people found the old Mage Tower, and decided the location was suitable for settlement. Some three hundred moved into the Tower and constructed a village around it. They tilled the fields and, for a short time, lived a prosperous life.
However, as they worked the fields, they uncovered the remains of the ancient soldiers who fought there. In so doing, they released a side effect of the spell that slew them, and mystical plague spread through Brokehill.
The Elder of Brokehill, a powerful mage in his own right, recognized the nature and power of the plague, and sought to prevent it from spreading throughout the world. Having learned much from studying the records contained within the Tower, he cast a great spell to contain Brokehill – to prevent anyone from leaving and thus spreading the plague. The ancient dead awoke and surrounded the village and allowed no one to pass.
This spell, too, had a side effect. The containment circle around Brokehill was indeed also a sending circle. Still, one would expect nothing to come of this.
However, in our world, the Cataclysm was happening. The walls between worlds were damaged, even obliterated, and the Obelisk in the mausoleum in our world could be seen as a Returning Beacon. Brokehill, in its Sending Circle, came to it.
To Phantara, it was as much an abomination as the Undead. It was not of Phantara, it should not exist here. Now the specters of Brokehills Containment Circle, indeed, even those who died of the plague, could not return to the Circle. They were not a part of Phantara’s Cycle, so they were stuck as undead within Brokehills bubble of unreality.
Around that bubble, Nature lashed against the alien cyst in the form of a terrible storm. Eventually the Circle, itself, called for help – sending me visions, calling me here. Why it chose me, I do not know. Because I heal life, and it sought someone to heal Phantara? Because I focus energies to banish that which doesn’t belong, so was summoned to banish Brokehill from Phantara? Because I am attuned to Nature in the manner of the Druids, Nature chose to try to communicate with me? A summation of who I am? Chaotic chance?
Regardless, Phantara guided me, controlled me, and so I reach the Obelisk and remove it from its pedestal – disrupting its Returning Beacon and sending Brokehill back to where it came.
That is what I was shown. Now for the events of the past several days. There was much political discussion, of which I took no part. I’ll leave that for another to detail.
I will talk about the screams we’ve been hearing at night for the last several weeks. We discovered that these screams came from Silvani women in the area that had been cursed to experience the deaths that occurred around them. They, themselves, do not appear directly involved with the murders of our townsfolk, and seek an end to their curse. Lao and others are attempting to help them.
Their torturous cries do serve as a macabre indicator of the numerous murders occurring here. We discovered one such murder that night.
The boy Gaul came into town covered in the blood of another, declaring he had just witnessed a thin man killing a young woman with an axe. Investigating adventurers found the body horribly mutilated, except for the face, which was undamaged, and covered beneath clean, fine cloth. We attempted to track the killer, but his trail vanished suddenly, as if by teleportation or flight, much like Sikoku’s assailant several months earlier.
Based on this, I wished to visit the Graveyard, as I feared some terrible ritual may be underway, one that might involve many of the recent murders. Lao advised against taking on the Graveyard at night, though, and suggested cleansing it during the day, and returning to it again the following night, hopefully to face fewer undead defenders. Though I had concern about any delay, his words held wisdom, and might well save lives. So tonight the Graveyard would not be attacked.
A bard arrived at the Inn soon after, claiming a wraith had stolen her voice. She had apparently entered into a bargain with the undead creature, and for months it had been teaching her its songs. But finally it collected its payment, and took her voice.
I joined the party that set out to destroy the wraith. Out in the woods we met many undead things, many of which seemed to phase in and out of reality. Soon we were seeing spectral villagers, some of whom could not see us. We even came across a ghostly Robert, crying about Haven being overrun and in flames. Evil and powerful specters assailed us – ones whom our weapons and magics only occasionally affected. We were swiftly being overpowered. Several of us, including myself, were affected by Fear spells from time to time.
Then the ground began to rumble, and a man began to rise from the ground. It was Florin. I cast a Banish spell against him, and the energies took him just beneath the heart. His ribcage dissipated into the ether, but then began to reform. I began to summon forth more power immediately, but Florin was very near, and I didn’t have time. I focused my own essence into what little energy I had collected, and cast it at Florin. I poured most of what was left into a second, follow-up blast, and Florin was gone. Nearly drained of essence, I nearly followed him into oblivion, and collapsed to the ground.
Giddeon and Sikozu picked me up and got me back to Haven while other warriors fought against the Specters. Eventually they, too, retreated back to town.
I was useless for some time afterward, as merely staying alive required all my concentration. But gradually I regained my essence, and by the time a lizardman asked for aid from Haven, I was ready once more to assist.
You are aware how, for a time, no fires would light. This was also true in the village of the Lizardmen. Unfortunately a magical barrier against great and ancient evil was maintained through fire. When those fires went out, the great evil became free and attacked the village. The Lizardmen were swiftly overrun. Much of Haven’s adventurers set out to help.
We met the first wave of undead just outside of the village, where they had just slaughtered a group of Lizardmen. I set to healing one of the fallen while the others dealt with the undead. When the healing was complete, I joined in the fray, Banishing one abomination after another, until I reached their leader. I hit it solidly with a Banish spell, and it laughed at me, then drove its spear through my chest.
I don’t recall who healed me, but I was soon back on my feet and helping the adventurer’s battle their way through the Lizard village. One of our fighters overheard an undead minion boasting how ‘Florin was but a child compared with our Dark Master’, and by how that one creature could laugh off my Banish spell, I could believe it. Still we fought on, making steady progress, until the needs of the wounded pulled me from the front lines.
I revived many so they could rejoin the battle, but while healing Sikozu, one of the more powerful monstrosities broke through our lines, placed a spear at her throat, locked eyes with me and said ‘Beg.’
Without interrupting the flow of healing magic, I did.
This seemed to take the creature back a bit, but then he made further demands.
‘Leave this place! Return to your village and leave my cave in peace!’
I agreed, and it left to rejoin the fight. Upon restoring Sikozu to full health, I indeed left the battle and returned to Haven. I will do whatever it takes to save a life, but I will hold no bargains with the undead. However, I still felt compelled to at least adhere to the letter of the accord.
In Haven I found Lao and Ming and told them what was happening. I then turned around and set out once more for the Lizardman village, having fulfilled my promise to return to Haven. Ming and Lao accompanied me, and I was glad for their presence.
Arriving back at the battle, I helped again with the wounded while the others fought. When my healing services were no longer required, I rejoined the fray. By now, the adventurers had fought their way to the cave that seemed the source of the undead. I destroyed many things outside it, but left the cave alone, as agreed. Soon my companions had recast the spell that held the evil back, and the last of our enemies vanished.
The next morning, a man arrived claiming to be a messenger of King Silverthorne. He claimed the King wished to meet with representatives of Haven at 1:30 to discuss our swearing fealty to him. We agreed to the meeting, and selected our representatives.
Before the meeting, however we set out to destroy the alchemically altered giant ants. Without too much difficulty, we fought our way into their anthill and slew the queen. While some dealt with the eggs, the rest of us tracked down a group of fleeing ants and killed them. By all indications the entire hive was destroyed. Provided it had not sought to spawn new hives before we arrived, we should have no more trouble from them. Perhaps the sages should see if the matter is truly closed.
On our way back to Haven, I saw Gaul wandering away from the village alone. He said he was off to collect mushrooms for Robert, and that he would be safe because of the path he was taking. This ‘safe path’ sounded intriguing, and as Gaul should not be out alone, I chose to accompany him.
The path was long and meandering – taking us several hours to at last arrive at a set of ruins roughly a half-hours walk from Haven. However there was certainly a lack of animal and insect life along the trail – somehow they were kept away. I, myself, felt nothing out of the ordinary, nor did Gaul, when I asked him.
As we neared our destination, a fellow healer-druid caught up with us. He had been worried about my disappearance, and had tracked after me. I apologized for my unannounced departure. I seem to be doing that sort of thing more and more often. I’ve never been the most social of creatures, but lately I seem to have become more and more distant from my fellow villagers. I had promised Gideon I’d be at his Guild meeting this morning, but chose instead to meditate in the wilderness. My increased isolationism and lack of social dependability is likely a symptom of my Totem’s call – a call I now intend to answer.
That the tracker had found us was most fortunate, for Gaul had not come out here to collect mushrooms. Instead, he sought out his brother, Tomas, from his hiding space to try to convince him to come home. Tomas had killed Lilly, the woman we had found last night, for deciding to marry another suitor. Tomas proved quite insane, and when we told him he must either leave or submit to Haven justice, he attacked. The tracker rendered him unconscious and together we took him back to Haven.
When we arrived, we discovered the meeting with Silverthorne did not go well. Apparently the King was an imposter, and non-humans under his rule would live as slaves. Our representatives refused to serve him, and thus his army was now marching on us. We quickly set about preparing our defenses.
Once again, Arthos guided us on constructing a large, spiked pit trap. We established barricades on our side of the trap. Ug had learned a new, powerfully destructive spell, and he set about casting it with four other mages. A rank of warriors formed up in front of their casting circle to defend it.
The enemy army arrived after sunset, and forced their first ranks into the pit trap. Perhaps a hundred lives were lost in the first half minute. By then, the pits were full, and the army marched across the corpses of their fallen.
Then Ug’s spell went off – with devastating results. A massive fireball consumed hundreds of the attacking army, in addition to all of our own defenders. I used the ring of protection granted by King Roderick to become a nigh-invulnerable statue, and was thus spared of the blast. As soon as the fires subsided, I reverted to normal – I had to save as many of the fallen as I could, and time was of the essence.
I placed the Healing Clamp on the closest charred body. The next, though savable under better circumstances, I had to pass over, as that person, and Avyana by appearance, would require too much time to stabilize. The third person I came across was Curufin – immobile but apparently unharmed – he, too, had used a Ring of Protection. The forth body was near death, but could be stabilized quickly, so I dragged her over to the one with the Healing Clamp. I channeled my own essence into a fifth burn victim to instantly stabilize him. I could not do this again, as a second such act would surely be my end. I carried the stabilized, though still gravely injured Phoenix warrior to the others I’d be working on.
I performed surgery on one, who turned out to be Sikozu after the burned flesh mended, then the one with the clamp, a dwarf, received her surgery. By now the Silverthorne soldiers had recovered from their shock and were streaming passed the barricades – largely ignoring the sole healer standing amongst the charred corpses. My healing was interrupted briefly when one anxious warrior attacked, but my quickly uttered words of surrender placated him, and guards were placed around me. I was thankful for them, for their presence prevented further attacks on me. I was able to save three, but no more.
The guards had taken my shield, but had missed the mace beneath my cloak. Nor did they search me for the other precious items I held. When my work was complete, those I had healed and I were escorted to the fire pit by the Inn.
I circulated about the village, performing rites over the fallen, then sat for some time, meditating on our circumstance. Eventually Grok walked passed, and whispered for me to follow. I did so without question.
She took me out of the village to meet with Ka, Corbyn, and several other freedom fighters. They had a plan for Ug to cast a firestorm spell to overcome the guards and retake Haven.
Ka and Corbyn left to arrange things with Ug, and the rest of us waited just outside Haven, with the weapons Grok had collected.
Roughly an hour later we saw the firestorm and rushed forth out of the woods and back into Haven. The few surviving guards were fleeing the village. We had retaken it.
Many adventurers now set about resurrecting their fallen comrades. I grimaced at the resulting numerous disruptions of the Circle. I will prevent death by any means necessary, but never undo it. The circle travels in one, unified direction – the act of the reverse jump of resurrection is perhaps as great an abomination as are the undead. At least this disruption is only momentary.
While the mages and alchemists brought the dead to life, many of the rest of us set off after the Silverthorne King. We met his elite troops in combat, and I was soon once more healing our wounded. One Silverthorne soldier was gravely wounded and brought to me for healing, so he might later be interrogated. He was left with Kidwyn and I to guard.
But then Nuk came by with undead minions to reinforce our side. Undead cannot be tolerated – whatever their purpose. I Banished one of them, and Nuk instructed the other to run. I gave chase and destroyed it, as well. Kidwyn had likewise chosen that moment to rejoin the battle, and when I returned to the healing area, the Silverthorne soldier was gone.
I was glad. This night had seen too much death as it was, and at least this soldier would live, provided he survived the wilderness.
I chastised Nuk about creating undead, though I doubt I had any influence. I do hope she does so no longer, for there are other Undead Slayers in Haven. While I will harm no living being, even, I have decided, a Necromancer, the others have no such qualms.
The numerous resurrections required us to obtain additional special herbs, so after the battle a party set out for the Graveyard. Fortunately the Graveyard was cleansed during the day, so little was left to defy us that night. However, we did interrupt a necromancer from his work, though we were unable to catch him. He vanished from the Graveyard. Could the numerous murders around Haven be related to him? What dire scheme is he up to? Another matter the Sages should perhaps consider.
So ends my tale. I leave Haven shortly to commune with nature and attune myself to the circle. I go to achieve my Totem, and will not be back anytime soon. The mind of the Unicorn is a truly alien thing, and is not nearly as susceptible to outside influences. One of the undeads greatest weapons against me is their unnatural fear, to which I will be immune upon my return. I also suspect that if the Circle should try to communicate with me again after I have achieved the Totem, it will be an easier affair. If… When again I return, I will be of different body and mind, and likely far less compatable with standard sentient society. This is likely the last time I will speak with you at length, Garret, though I strongly support the preservation of knowledge. I will try to at least continue maintaining a journal that I can pass on to you.
May your life be long and fulfilling, Garret. Good day.
Learn the past. Observe the present. Guide the future.