What has gone before #21
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| Cherafyr "Well?" asked Legum impatiently. Galrog shook his head. "I caught a short glipmpse of the inside of th stables. Nothing particulary signification, a few wagons and shome hourses. Guards are patrolling the perimeter. They've been trained; irregular intervals, frequest challenges. It seems to very between four to fifteen minujtes. Not a lot of time to get in. Galrog was dressed in a poorly woven woolen cloak, a dull brown where it wasn't stained by grease, and rough cotton shirt and pants. It was the standard outfit for a Cherafyr peasant, a roll Galrog played well since he had been raised in this very city. Legum looked back at Agrik's palace. In some ways, it was fortunate that it was one of the pre-fall buildings. It wasn't made with defense in mind. Very few arrow slots, for one thing. And the roof was a smooth dome, nothing a guard could stand on while pouring boiling oil or firing crossbow bolts into an attacking enemy. The palace itself stood in the center of a circular cobblestone area with streets running out of it like spokes in a wagon's wheel. The buildings around it where the mix that existed everywhere in Cherafyr, a few pre-fall buildings with smooth, seamless walls and windows next to poorly constructed stone buildings made out of regular stone and shards of material that must have come from the ruins of the pre-fall buildings that had been destroyed. The circle would make it difficult to reach the building, or to retreat from it, unseen. Legum frowned. The Hectlacs had provided them with a few magic items, but nothing that would help this problem. Finally he shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it. Let's rejoin the rest and see what information they gathered." They left the circle and headed down one of the streets, casting glances behind them occasionally. Considering what they were planning, it made sense to be a mite cautious. Agrik was a lord in Cherafyr, and breaking a man... or a hobbit... out of his dungeon was no small task. They reached their destination, a small pub with a sign depicting an old woman dangling from a hanging post, with the words "The Hanging Hag" in large white letters. "Cheerful name" commented Legum. Galrog shrugged. "Typical for Cherafyr. They are not as... refined as those of you from Kethem." A different word seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but Legum wisely decided not to press the issue. They entered the building, one of the newer ill-fitted stone variety. The smell of sweat, spilled beer, and other less savory scents wafted their way. After a few moments to allow their eyes to adjust to the dim interior, they spotted the huge, hulking form of Hammerhand. Everyone but Templar shared a table with the troll, a table that most people in the room seemed to studiously avoid. Trolls were not common in this part of the world. Legum spotted the shaggy, wolf-hair cloaked back of Templar, standing at the bar and slamming a mug of beer into that of another man. The other man was dressed in a short leather tunic with wear marks on the shoulders, wear marks left by chainmail. It was one of Agrik's guards they had picked out as he left the palace. The Hanging Hag was a favorite for many of Agrik's people. As Legum and Galrog sat down with the rest of the group, Templar gave one more hearty laugh, slammed down the remainder of his mug, and slapped the man on the back. Templar joined them while the other man walked away with the careful steps of someone unsure of their balance. Templar, despite having matched the man drink for drink, showed no obvious signs of drunkenness as he sat down. Legum raised his eyebrows. "I've got some information. I couldn't ask too many detailed questions without tipping my hand" Templar replied to the unspoken question. "The prison area is on a lower level, down a staircase somewhere not far from the stables. I think we can find it if we can get in there. He really doesn't know much... they have a group that specialize in torture who guard the prison area. He did tell where that group hangs out, a place called the severed limb. It doesn't sound like a pleasant place for a drink." Templar's voice betrayed his disgust. Vodan clerics were very serious about living up to the standards set for battlefield conduct, and torture was not part of that code. "We could check the place out, though. Cras... the guard... mentioned that there was something beyond the prison area, but then became very close mouthed. "It might be a good idea to try to find out a bit more about it" said Tallow thoughtfully. "Whaf s beyond the prison is of no concern to us" replied Legum. "We aren't going to be there long enough to find out. We go in, we grab Guido and Fra Rentec, and we head out." Tallow looked uncomfortable but finally agreed. They spent a few more minutes making plans, then headed for Agrik's palace again, clustering in an alleyway that gave them a limited view of the stable area. At one in the morning, they were ready. They waited for the guard to sweep by the area twice rapidly, praying that he would take a bit longer the next time, then quietly ran for the wall just outside the stable. Galrog prepped and cast a passwall, one foot, group. A doorway sized, foot deep depression appeared in the wall. "Damn! The wall's too thick!" cried Galrog softly. Legum cursed. "Head for the stable door... we can get in there!" hissed Tallow, turning and running for the door in the next moment. 'Tallow," cried Legum softly, "it's too... hell!" he ended, as he realized it was pointless. Tallow was already at the door, pushing it open. Legum triggered the 10 foot radius silence spell as they ran to join him, the door swinging open noiselessly as a result. Thank ghod the Hectlacs had outfitted them with a few items to help with breaking in. They quickly closed the door behind them. A single lantern barely lit the interior of the stable. A few wagons at the far end cast dark, ominous looking shadows, and people outside the radius of the silence spell heard the horses whinnied in their stalls. The party moved carefully to the door at the far end, slipping past the obstacles presented by the wagons. Templar slowly opened it, finding a similarly dimly lit hallway on the other side. The people on lead loaded crossbows and held them at ready. They slipped one by one into the stone passageway, turning right and moving down to a T intersection. Across this hallway was a doorway secured by nothing more than a dark curtain. Templar listened, hearing snoring noises from the other side before Legum was close enough that the silence spell encompassed him. They turned left, moving past a half dozen of the sleeping quarters, before opening a door at the end into a larger room. At the far side was a staircase leading down. Templar quickly lead the way, then let the fighters take the lead. The bottom of the stairway ended in a passage; they could not see far because of the lip of the stairwell, but the corridor beneath was well lit. The fighters slowly moved down the staircase, bending over to see down the corridor. The corridor went ten feet, then emptied into a larger thirty by sixty foot room. On the far side was a door with two guards who were looking curiously at them. Hammerhand, Jake and Legum let fly with crossbow bolts, all striking home but insufficient to take the guards out. Legum ran forward, hoping to catch them in the silence spell's effect, but despaired when he saw one of the two pull on a long cord, obviously some kind of warning device that was undoubtedly sounding the alarm on the floor above. Then they were in melee, clubbing the guards with the discharged crossbows since they lacked the time to change weapons in the sudden charge. The guards, already wounded and obviously not extremely well trained, succumbed to the attack quickly. Templar grabbed a set of keys off one guard. The party spread out a few staying in the larger room to watch behind them, the rest moving past the guarded door. Inside was a long corridor, lined with barred cells on each side and ending in a closed, sturdy looking door. "Guido!" cried Templar, and hearing a faint cry down the corridor, quickly ran to the second to last cell. Guido was inside, sporting massive bruises and bloody welts from Agrik's torturers, but apparently not seriously hurt. Templar began to fit keys to the lock, trying to find the right one. As he desperately tried one key after another, the door at the far end of the hall opened a crack, and lightning blazed down the passageway. Templar almost lost the keys, but grimly hung on through the searing blast and then began working again, trusting to the others to counter the threat. Jake and Hammerhand closed with the man before he had a chance to let go with another bolt, Jake's sword sweeping up under his chin and splitting his head in two. The spasming body was hurled back into the room on the other side of the door, and Hammerhand quickly dosed it and leaned against the door to keep further intruders out, for a little while at least. Templar finally found the right key after trying the vast majority of them. Guido sprang out of the cell, his injuries clearly less of a factor than his joy at being rescued. He grabbed the key ring from Templar, took a couple of seconds to examine the keys on it, and selected one that looked right. He moved in front of Fra Rentec's cell, slid the key in. It clicked into place with a little clink, and the bolt popped open. Templar looked at him with one eyebrow raised. Guido shrugged, smiled, and said "luck, I guess." Fra joined them, and they raced to leave the building. At the top of the stairway, the looked out a narrow window, intended for firing arrows, not for allowing exit to the building. "Hang on!" cried Tallow, "The wall here is only about a foot thick. I think our passwall will work here..." Guido, with no further prompting, cast the spell. A doorway suddenly appeared in the stone, and they rushed out. As they exited, the doorway disappeared again, leaving them in the moonlight. It took a few moments for everyone's eyes to adjust, then they were running across the cobblestones for the nearest alley. The alarm bells were clanging behind them, and as Guido looked back toward the palace, he could see an odd glow spring up on the other side of the building. He had no desire to find out what it was, and they all breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the shadows of the nearby buildings without further incident. The Jaded Whale They finished good-byes with Archpriest Vanderhoven and Fra Rentec as dawn broke over the city, the evening's events protected from elvish eyes by the powerful illusion spell of the Hectlac clerics. Vanderhoven looked at them oddly, much of the icy demeanor that seemed to accompany most people high up in an organization hierarchy melted away. "We live in interesting times, it seems" he said quietly. "Whether it is because of you or was there all along and you have just brought it to a head is still unclear to me. Regardless, it seems you are exposing a new level of truths about what is happening to Kethem that have never been recognized before." He looked at the group intensely. "Knowledge is the key. With correct information, you can still make poor choices, but without information, you can't make the right choice. Keep me informed, people. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know. Although we do keep certain information... classified, if you will... to protect our operatives, we try to keep it to a minimum, and we try to acknowledge the truth as soon as possible." Legum thought back to a time they had been stranded in Smagaen and thought unkind thoughts, but did not interrupt. "We will. Thanks for the new communication ring." Vanderhoven nodded in acknowledgment. "You intend to carry through with your plan then?" "Yes. We know Veskavar, the dragon, wants to return to his home plane. The elves can do it, and Godslayer, one of the thirteen Greatswords, is a reasonable price for it. We can help Veskavar, gain a tremendous amount of goodwill with the elves..." "Gain a tremendous amount of gold" broke in Tallow, smiling. When they had first broached the plan, he had exploded. "WHERE'S THE PROFIT IN THAT!" he had yelled, turning red. Then it had been pointed out to him that Veskavar had a palace full of treasure, much more than he could possibly take with him to his home plane. Since then, Tallow had been insufferable " cneerrul. And gain some insight into the Evael forest" Legum continued, looking stoniley at Tallow. "I think we will be the first non-elves in the Evael for five hundred years." 'The only conscious non-elves" corrected Guido, recalling his onw journey through the Evael. ALl he remebered was collapsing in HOtherial's intelligence cneter on Lentelnella Hollen. Vanderhoven nodded once again. "Good luck on your journey, then." The group sat in a set of chairs arranged in a loose circle as Vanderhoven and Fra Rentec left the room. As he left, Vanderhoven gestured, and the invisibility spell fell over the group again. A minute later, illusionary images of themselves entered the room and sat in the chairs. After a moment, the images vanished and they could see themselves once again. It was a complicated ruse, but it kept the elves, tracking them with the evowa and evona crystal balls, from knowing about the conversation with the Hectlac priests. Not that the^knew for sure that Hotherial would object, but it was better to be on the safe side. They stood, stretched. It had been a long, sleepless night. Fortunately, they had booked passage on a small merchant vessel out of Tendut. From Tendut, it was a short hop to Lentenella Hollen and Hotherial. They could sleep on the trip. They had not taken into account, however, the poorer quality of the Pranan merchant vessels. Crammed into a small, unfinished hold, they tried to lean against the rough, knotty walls and relax. The small vessel was bounced around despite the light weather, however, and the water from countless small leaks splashed over them until everyone was wet, cold and miserable. Eventually, they were forced to help bail to keep the water level down. They finally reached Tendut and settled in a small inn for a one night stay. Despite their bone-weary exhaustion, Legum convinced the group to hit the common room for a drink before retiring to bed. They sat in front of a huge, open hearth where flames and hot coals helped to burn away the chill left by the passage. The chairs were comfortable, and relaxation began to claim them. "I guess this was a good idea after all" commented Jake. "I was thinking sitting out here wasn't a great idea considering how many people would love to nail our hides to a cross." "For ghods' sake, Jake" replied Legum lazily, "none of us has ever been to Tendut before. The chances of anyone recognizing us here are so small they're incalculable." As Legum finished his sentence, a stranger who had been walking past them stopped, turned and asked "I say... Isn't your name Legum?" After he finished choking on his beer, Legum answered "who wants to know, while turning a bright red. "My name is Quen Jallok. Your father, Nad Saloss, and I ige to spend some time together. He had one of those elvish things. you Icnow, the ones that capture an image and can display it when the user wants it to?" Legum did remember it, a trifle sadly. His father had died in the destruction of the Jaded Whale, a disaster from which he had been the only survivor. "Please, have a seat, mister Saloss." "Quen, please call me Quen." The older man sat down, looking tired. "I heard about the Jaded Whale. I'm sorry, son." Legum shrugged. "Water under the moat. So, did you meet my father at Lentenella... the elvish trading island?" he finished awkwardly, remembering at the last moment that few called it by the elvish name. "No... Cherafyr, actually." What was he doing in Cherafyr?" "Why, he was cargo master on the Jaded Whale" replied Quen, clearly confused. 'The Jaded Whale only did the Evael run" replied Legum. 'They never stopped at Cherafyr. I've seen the ships logs." Quen shrugged uncomfortably. "Sorry, but the Jaded Whale stopped at Cherafyr many times over about a three month period." Legum stopped suddenly. Then he asked very cautiously "was this the summer of '51, by any chance?" "Why, I believe it was, now that you mention it." Legum though furiously. The missing logs from the Jaded Whale were the reason that he had been blackballed from ever serving on a Kethem Merchant again, missing logs that he was sure had some connection with the fate of the Heavy Merchant. He shivered as he remembered that night, waking to the death screams of the ship as its keel snapped like a twig, its death keen louder by far than the cries of the crew. He had survived the sinking ship, but watched in helpless horror as a giant, black ship, splinters of ribbing still stuck to the front where it had rammed the Jaded Whale and split her like a pea pod, slowly circled the area and killed those people who had not joined the Whale it her watery grave. He had survived that as well, the only one he knew of. It sounded like this was a possible lead into the events that had lead up to that night. "What was the Jaded Whale trading?" asked Legum. "Nothing" replied Quen. "They stopped for a night, then went up river, up the Grace." 'The Grace?" snorted Galrog. "That's ridiculous. No heavy merchant could make it up that river, and besides, there's nothing past the Cherafyr controlled area except Urakai territory." "I thought perhaps they were supplying an army that was working on capturing territory from the Urakow" said Quen. "In the summer of 51? No way" replied Galrog. I was out there... I use to be a guard on some of the trading expeditions into Urakow lands. I would have known about it." - "I know what I saw" replied Quen, becoming somewhat heated, "or do you call me a liar?" "Not at all" said Legum quickly. "I apologize, Quen. We've traveled long and hard to reach this place, and I'm afraid our tempers are a bit shorter than they should be. Let me buy you a drink." They stayed and talked with Quen for a time, but nothing new resulted from the conversation, and they finally went to bed. The journey to Lentenella Hollen was almost antidimactic in The meeting with Hotherial was somewhat strained, after and worn sword hilt marked her as a experienced fighter, and four other elves. They would set out the next day. Smagean and a cross country trek Ziwa was in the room of Hotherial' s building one second, and in an open courtyard the next. There was no time to register the ancient ruins of Smagean, however, before chaos erupted around her. There was a thunderclap of noise, and the ground buckled under her feet, tossing her onto her back. She gazed up stupidly at Tallow, hanging suspended about twenty feet in the air above her, then barely dodged aside as he crashed down were she had been laying, his body not immune from the ib of gravity as it had first appeared. Thick dust was in the air, dust with an odd, unpleasant odor. Ziwa slowly stood, sniffing distastefully. Around her, the rest of the group, including Besencalthien, were doing the same. She shook her head. "What the hell was that?" she asked of no one in particular. "Someone didn't make it" replied the elvish woman, Leletolian Moranislthen. Ziwa glanced around. "What do you mean..." she said, stopping suddenly as she realized someone was missing. "Where's Rocky?" she asked but a sick feeling in her stomach was already telling her the answer. "Like I said someone didn't make it. We told you there was a one in a hundred chance the teleport would not work properly." replied Leletolian. "What happened to him?" Ziwa asked in an ashen voice, looking at a strange, flesh colored plant sticking out of the ground. That she suddenly realized was a human thumb. Just before she vomited. "I guess we can forget about the amulet" said Tallow in a shaken voice, rubbing his bruises. Others around him were busy losing their lunches like Ziwa. After a few moments to recover, Ziwa looked around. It was Smagean, but there was an odd fog hanging about the place she did not recall. She sniffed again, and realized it wasn't fog, but smoke, a combination of dust and smoke. Not the clean smelling smoke of a fireplace in a local pub, but the acidic, choking smell of a forest fire. "Is this..." and she waved at the odd condition, "because of Rocky?". "Rocky? Oh, no" replied Besencalthien, "The low visibility is due to Nostrilia... or rather, the crater where Nostrilia use to be. It may not look pretty now, but it does make for spectacular sunsets" he added helpfully, then looked uncomfortable as Ziwa glared at him. "So this is the result of slagging a city, heh?" she said quietly. "Why is the effect so intense in Smagean?" 'It isn't" replied Besencalthien. "Everywhere within about twenty miles of No^trilia has the same problem" he continued. Ziwa just looked at him, then shook her head and turned away. These elves... and she wondered tor a moment when she had started thinking about them in that fashion... had an amazing ability to treat incomprehensible power in a very off hand fashio.'-i. It took a few hours to get answers ^bout Veskavar's whereabouts from the Dragonnewts, but they finally ran into oi^e of the Dragonnewt leaders they had interacted with when they had last visiterl Veskavar's palace. Yn<j Dragonnewt, who had been best described as surly wfi\?n they had meV him last, seemed dazed and confused this time, and answered u.-eir questions readily if somewhat vaguely. Veskavar was south, at the SheKn-ar gate. They had suspected this might be the case, since it was where he had b. on fae jast time they knew of his whereabouts. They set out the next day. The trip south passed with only one incident, where the party had ^e opportunity to run away from a Cyberbeast as quickly as they could. No on^ was seriously injured, and they found Veskavar outside the Gate as promisev He listened, impassively at first, but with greater and greater agitation as time went on... or at least they assumed it was agitation that caused him to whip his tail back and forth, occasionally smashing it into the ground with a ground shaking thud. He readily agreed to the trade of the Greatsword Godslayer for passage home via one of the elvish world gates, and they boarded his broad back for a quick flight to Smagean. There Veskavar had the Dragonnewts bring the sword. Burnished silver, almost white metal made the two handed sword glimmer with deadly intensity. You could feeHts presents in a physical way. Templayer shuddered, as did Hammerhand, Guido, and Galrog. This was not a weapon appreciated by clerics. Veskavar also brought out a few other tokens, powerful in their own right. They departed the next morning for the Evael, the bright green canopy that grew across teh Kubera river. As they raced faster than the wind, Besencalthien pointed out features of an area that was typically off limits to non-elves. "See the grid? asking. Galrog squinted. "I think so... there's a patch of trees that looks slightly odd." He paused for a moment. 'In fact, it seems like there are a few lines of trees that look slightly odd." Besencalthien nodded. "Its an illusion spell, a pretty good one, but too regular... all the trees look the same, so it tends to stand out a little if you look carefully. Its actually the Noebowa, the elvish transportation network." "Noebowa?" repeated Galrog. "Yes. It is a set of roads with levitation spells that slant as you near the center. So on the outer edge, you get raised a bit off the ground. As you move inward, you pick up speed. Near the center, you travel at about forty miles an " hour. And these things link all the elvish cities?" "Cities and waypoints. Worldgates tend to be waypoints; the effects of staying near a worldgate too long can be... nasty. "Wild" replied Galrog, shaking his head. "What are the elvish cities like?" "They are beautiful, of course. We prefer tall, sculptured buildings. They are generally interspersed among the delpholiatalin, the home-trees." "Home-trees? Do you guys really live in trees?" "Oh, no. The delpholiatalin are... from a place we once called home. There are not many left, I'm afraid, but they are wonderful. Once, before the fall, I could have taken you to see some. But now, non-elves are not allowed in the Evael-wood. At least, not until now, and I don't think a side trip to one of the nearby cities would be considered politic." Galrog blinked. Besancalthien seemed more open about elvish history than he had experienced before, with Bes or any other elf. "What happened to the del... the del... the home trees" he asked, settling on a neutral question. It would be interesting to prod at why exactly the elves did close off the Evael, but a more indirect approach seemed much more likely to succeed than an outright question on the subject. "They are slowly falling to the Elm, Oak, Birch... the trees from the north wood, just like the Lalm." "Lalm... is a type of tree?" asked Galrog hesitantly. "Oh, yes...." Besencalthien paused, then pointed down to a tree with long, willowy branches and narrow pointed leaves. Galrog had noticed them before, intermittently interspersed in the Evael vegetation. 'That's a Lalm. They used to be the most common type of tree here one or two thousand years ago. But the northern variety seem to be more hardy, and the Lalm are slowly dying out." Suddenly Besencalthien looked down, distracted. "I believe we are there" he said quietly. Veskavar settled slowly toward the tree tops below. At the elvish worldgate There was a second of green haze as they 'hit' the tree tops and passed through the illusion spell, then the ground appeared beneath them. It was a large, circular clearing, the familiar black pillars of the worldgate extending from the ground in the center of clearing like harsh, obsidian fingers. To the south was a small, round building, graceful, but not the tall spire of typical elvish architecture; some sort of control building for the gate, Jake assumed-Large cleared swaths of trees left huge pathways through the forest leading east, southwest, and northeast. They triangulated just to the north of the worldgate, and as Galrog watched, as square box the size of a large fishing boat came screaming down one path, thured abruptly, and shot away on another. These must be the Noebowa Bes had mentioned. They set down, and everyone slowely climbed of Veskavar's back. Fourty or fifty elves stood nearby as Leletolian moved over to join them. Veskavar dropped the bag of magic items, including Godslayer, to the ground. Veskavar leaned over Besencalthien, his shadow engulfing the elf. "The key?" he asked intently. Besencalthien motioned, and another elf exited the gracefully curved building. In his hand was a black rectangle, perhaps six inches long and a couple of inches wide. The distance was too great to see the runes, but even to those that had merely heard them described it was clearly a gate key. other elves stood around, bows in hand but not drawn. There was a tension about them, however, that warned of sudden reprisal for any unexpected moves. Veskavar leaned closer. Jake would have sworn he was holding his breath, if he new how to tell when a fifty foot long dragon was breathing. The elf with the gate key made several motions with a finger along the front and sides of the block. A hum began inside the black finger-like columns of the worldgate, and small opal flames began to lick along their length. There was another, high pitched keening sound as well, and icy fingers raced along Jake's back. The hum from the gate was familiar; he had heard it when they had encountered and attempted to activate the Sheravar world gate months before, but the keening... it was familiar as well, but felt out of place here. Where had he heard that noise before? The gate exploded into shimmering brilliance, the opal glow suddenlv becoming a torrent of light streaming out of the center of the gate. Veskavar moved forward, limbs rigid, almost trembling. Under different circumstances it would have been humorous. The hum had become a roar and a wind had sprung up, whipping dust and debris into the maw of the gate. The keening was rising in pitch and volue. Jake shook his head. Thing were happening too fast. Something was wrong. The elves heard it now, and looked around, confused. The sound was coming from there direction. Could Veskavar have cast a spell of some kind? Surely the elves would have Detect Magic up to catch such a move? A snatch of one of Rocky' s stories came to mind, about the Dreadlord Blackfelt and a Moratyr hiding behind something that screened magic casting. Jake sucked in a breath. Something was wrong, something was deadly wrong. But he had no idea what it was. What could he yell? "Watch out for the sound?" It sounded ridiculous. Veskavar exited the gate. On his long, reptilian face was... not happiness. Glee. Not the look of someone going home, but the look of someone who had WON. The keening hit a note, a note Jake remembered. His heart froze, the sudden memory of Plellelan, face twisted in crazed fear, a glowing ball of light emitting the same sound he was hearing now popping into his head... a memory of Nostrilia, with Plellelan releasing a time delayed fireball. Jake screamed his warning, late, much too late. Veskavar leaned forward over Besancalthien, and intense, red hot flames exploded out of his gullet. Besancalthien didn't have time to do anything other than register surprise as the blasting flames engulfed him and the other elf. At the same time, flame exploded in the midst of the elvish archers, the detonation bone jarring even at Jake's distance from the area. Smoking elvish bodies flew through the air, others screaming as their clothes burst into flame. Even so, incredibly, some of the elvish archers managed to return fire, and where arrows struck Veskavar's massive body, lighting flew, blowing jagged, gaping holes in the dragon's scaly hide. Where Besancalthien and the other elf had stood was nothing but a ten foot wide smoking crater, a pile of cinders and. ash in the center. Jake was on his hands and knees without remembering how he had gotten there. The elvish archers were scattering as Veskavar reared back and turned his fiery breath on them. Some stood and let fly with more of the deadly electric arrows, then were caught in Veskavar's blast, bows and strings instantly burning away along with skin and flesh. Arrows and the dry hiss of lightning beams erupted from the windows of the Gate control building. More lightning flew, a couple of elves with wands getting shots off, and there was a sudden THUD THUD THUD as more fireballs began exploding in a regular pattern throughout the area... some kind of high level fireball spell cast by Veskavar, no doubt. Jake was surprised at how few elves were caught in the blasts, then noted that the elves that had stood and fired in spite of Veskavar's fire breathing were off of the main group, and had given the rest a chance to spread out. How they had coordinated that move instantly was beyond him, but it was effective. Veskavar had to target elves individually now; there were no clusters left to flame. Out of the corner of Jake's eye, he caught a flash of motion; Galrog, running for Godslayer. He was ready to scream at the fool, but realized just in time that it might attract Veskavar's attention away from the elves. He gritted his teeth as Galrog skidded to a halt in front of the sword and reached out for it. Veskavar's head came around to burn a elf, suddenly halted and turned directly toward Galrog. The roar of flames almost drowned out Galrog's screams as he burned to death. Sickened, Jake looked away, directly into another of Veskavar's random fireballs. The blast rocked over him, followed by a showering of dirt and ash, but fortunately did no damage. It was time to leave. He stood and ran for the forest's edge, glancing over his shoulder. Behind him Guido and Tallow were running... in the opposite direction. Jake cursed the idiots. Veskavar knew what was coming. He flamed one of the elves with a wand, then turned calmly toward Guido as Guido's hands closed on Godslayer's hilt and dragged it out of the ground. Guido looked up into the dinner-plate sized eyes as Veskavar inhaled... and was suddenly gone with a pop. Jake felt a glimmer of hope... Guide's D-door! He had D-doored out. Veskavar looked total taken aback. Then one of the lightning arrows caught him in the head, and he bellowed and turned back to the fight. Tallow reached the same area Guido has just left, grabbed the bag of magic items and pulled hard, then looked down foolishly as it disintegrated in his hands into ash. He quickly reached down and grabbed a few items, then ran for the woods. Every second seemed like an eternity to Jake, who had already reached cover. If Veskavar's attention were to wander from the elves for a second, Tallow would meet Galrog's horrible end. But somehow, through incredible luck, Veskavar continued to concentrate on the elves for the entire period and Tallow vanished into the forest. Jake headed further into the woods. The thundering explosions of Veskavar's fireballs and the smaller, higher sound of the lightning arrows and bolts echoed through the forest, occasional stray shots blasting into the trees and raining pieces of bark and shreds; of leaf-on him. The lightning sounds were beginning to occur less frequently, however. It appeared Veskavar was getting the better of the elves. He moved even deeper into the woods, the sounds of the full scale battle behind beginning to fade slightly. It would take some time to rendezvous with the rest of the party. He was too stunned to even think about what they might do next... |