Cleombrotus tells of the rescue...

 The summit of the Hill of Orlanth Victorious

And so, in Sea Season of 1616, I returned to the place of my rebirth. Nearly three years to the day I rode south, through the lands of the Culbri Sartarites, south along the rolling course of the Lorthing River. The air was thick with flashing memories and fleeting fears.

The last time I had travelled through these lands I was fleeing to the north, pursued by Orlanthi foes, in the wake of the Battle of Hofstaring’s Flood. Now I was with my long-time friends and war-companions on a mission of our own conception. Finally we were taking the fight to the Lunars and on terms of our own, not led by the unfathomable motivations of our former draconic patrons. This freedom had been long in coming and I embraced it with gusto, formulating a plan while we rode. I glanced at my companions. Darkos and Grant were my only friends, my only family. Such a fragile bond, and yet here we were again, planning on risking our lives on our most perilous venture yet. Gramper was still an enigma to me. I knew too little of this strange man, and his reserve filled me not with mistrust of his motives, but an inability to see any material concerns in his motivations. He sees only beyond the flesh, and I prefer my allies to think of preserving mine...

As I contemplated the strange whims of Fate it seemed to me that the strange Winds that had blown me full circle, in the shape of the Air Rune itself, back to the Hill of Orlanth Victorious. This was a moment of great significance and I had a plan to mark it so. How far had I travelled now? - All the way from Raibanth in the far north, peaceful within the Glowline, to the Mirrorsea in the south, looking across an endless ocean. If my father could see me now, what would he think? He had often talked of how the deprivation in which we lived was but a test. To endure the hardship of poverty and starvation, to harden the heart to depths of cruelty that would inspire fear and compliance from the weak. All these things were to build the strength of the spirit, to forge it under the fire and hammer of deprivation so that Deshlotralas, Keeper of the Third Hell, would know the strong from the weak and would thus divide the wheat from the chaff in the afterlife. Now I would show the world my strength.

For all these years I had taken to the study of magical enchantments, learning from all who would teach, and under the tutelage of the ancient dark troll, Kergan Sourtooth, I had learned the means to imbue my body with the fortitude of inner Darkness, tempering my flesh and my will to endure great pain and torment at little cost. At Blackwell I had sacrificed at the temple of Argan Argar for the power to make the ritual complete, emulating the Kitori of old when they stalked the lands to extract the shadow-tribute.

The ritual held great risks, however, for much of my soul would be sacrificed and possibly for naught should the ceremony go awry...

After we had met the Orlanthi conspirators, and sworn the mighty oath that bound us under pain of Death to their cause, our party went different ways. Darkos, Grant and Gramper went to Jonstown to negotiate the services of the Lanbrili who would cast their secret magics to erase all knowledge of our deed. I took myself to the top of the sacred hill and began three nights of prayer at the spot where Orlanth had departed for the Underworld. I stood there that night, naked at the summit, surveying the world through my eyes which see without Light, and feeling the ice-cold wind on my flesh. Then I threw back my head, cast out my arms and implored the gods to bequeath me their might.

After three nights my invocation was heard by the Son of Night but in the ever-presence of mighty Orlanth, and I dedicated myself to the cause of both, feeling the strength flow into my body. My spirit was drained but now I could endure injury that would slay a normal man outright and yet I would still remain standing. I have become a foe to be reckoned with and underestimated at great peril.

My plan had been conceived with the knowledge of my past. In Raibanth, among the thieves, I had learned of rites through which the deeds of men could be masked from the all-seeing eyes of the gods and preserved for the judgement of Deshlotralas. In Sartar I had learned how men could invoke the chariot of Mastakos to cover great distance in an instant and across all barriers. With these powers we sought to fashion the rescue of Chief Gaudyr Longsword who had been captured by the Lunars and sentenced to death, caged in a fort at the centre of Jonstown.

We had gained the support of the mysterious and masked Orlanthi rebels who trusted us in our endeavour but would not trust us with their identities. We were forced to swear a mighty Humakti oath to safeguard the secrecy of our conspiracy. It is a fearful thing to swear such an oath and to know that to break it is Death.

Once in Jonstown my compatriots proved themselves worthy and diligent scouts, for all of the necessary preparations were in place and ready, and two nights after our arrival, on the night of the dark moon we made our way, under cover of darkness over the walls and into the Lunar compound. Grant had voiced his all too expected concern that we had not planned enough, but my father had always taught me to only plan for what you know. “Planning without knowledge is not planning. It is guesswork!” he slurred one night – wisdom from the bottle...I had enough faith in our joint experience to understand that when our purpose was clear and shared, we would be successful where success was possible.

We all knew that our stealthy approach would only serve us so far, and luck betrayed us as Gramper slipped on the roof tiles and alerted the tower guards to our presence. Darkos sent arrows powered by the Eye of The Bull which found their mark but didn’t fell it, and the guard’s cries of alarm were heard. After all the years as a heavy infanteer and adventurer it felt strange to be garbed once more in the attire of the urban thief. We moved light and unarmoured, and it occurred to me that but for a short stint as a slave of trolls, I had not been parted from my mighty shield and long spear since Hofstaring’s Flood. Here again in the dark I felt my mind drift involuntarily back to the slope, the smell of the earth and the growl of the pursuing Telmori. Always unbidden come these memories when some event, smell or sound bears close resemblance. I suppressed the thought and ignored the cold sweat that had broken out on my back, chilling me in the night. As the prospect of an imminent melee finally became inevitable I felt an urgent longing for my shield and took note of the pale white band of skin on my forearm that was normally covered by the strap; back to the job in hand...

I tore open the shutters with my strength spell and headed in, my advance now urgent. The layout led me to guessing that the cells would be below, and every stair down would lead us closer to our goal. It was a great relief that our journey was one way, for we were heading deeper into a Lunar fort, surrounded by a garrison that would soon be roused. This whole escapade felt like suicide as it was. My heart was hammering in my chest as I contemplated everything that could go wrong with the plan.

Grant and I went in, and it was not long before we were reunited with Gramper who had summoned his huge undine and made good his entry through the main door. We barricaded ourselves in and located the stairs that led to the cells. Grant was the link man, and bound me to Darkos through mindspeech. I called for us to rally at the top of the stairs and we proceeded down, trusting to Darkos’ magic to hold the Lunars at the main gate, however temporarily.

The eerie red glow from the dungeon spoke of Lunar magic, and Gramper’s second-sight led him to believe that below lurked a priest of some sort. When we charged in I could see that it was a Cenobite, foul pain master of Danfive Xaron – the Bridge for the Seeker. He was enveloped by Gramper’s undine even as Gramper was attacked by the Lune that coalesced around him. I knew, as did all raised within the Glowline, of the cult of Danfive Xaron: the last chance for the dregs of society to feel the enlightenment of the Red Goddess. As a child I had watched the chain gangs working to repair the docks of Raibanth. As the overseers looked on, their cruel whips ever in their hands, the penitents worked in the river. Only the strong would survive, and men and women would drown as their strength failed, pulled into the muddy depths by the weight of their chains. When I was finally caught, it was the threat of such a fate that proved to be the recruiters’ greatest weapon. Join the Lunar Army on the victory march south! Food, camaraderie, honour, recognition and a plot of land to work on your retirement! Or up to your neck in foul smelling water, chained between others and blinded and maimed for minor crimes. This is the true nature of the freedom of choice in the Empire of the Red Moon.

The priest bore his evil whip and it lashed at Grant whilst his magic enslaved Darkos to his will. I knew that I had scant seconds before the water elemental was killed and used the time to locate the keys to the cell that contained Gaudyr.

Gramper fell to the attack of the Lune and the undine fell to the priest, and for a second we were outnumbered, Grant and I, by priest, elemental and allied spirit. My hastily cast spell released Darkos from his thrall and he returned to the attack with his bow. He placed a mighty bowshot direct to the chest of the Cenobite just as Grant’s sword cleaved through the priest’s leg, but the fell one had called upon the power of his god, and took to the fight once more.

Grant fell, as Gramper had done, his mind stunned by the lune, but this second bout was short lived, as Darkos once more felled the priest with bowfire. The Lune dissipated, now bereft of command, and we were able to appraise our situation.

I located the key and brought Gaudyr down from the wall. Healing spells powered by my magic crystal and focussed through my Healing Crystal brought the Humakti chieftain back to his senses and I explained the magics contained within the divine matrix that the rebel Orlanthi had entrusted to us. I begged him to escape now, for our unconscious friends could not evoke the magics contained within the stone, and we would have to stand by their fallen bodies to whatever end. I told him that we would not want to lay down our lives in vain.

Gaudyr would have none of it, however, insisting that he stay and fight alongside us. I was both moved and annoyed at once, but it was indeed an honour to be acknowledged as an ally by an Orlanthi thane, for in the most part I had been forced to fight against the mistrust of my adoptive culture because of the place of my birth and my former profession. Perhaps through this deed I would finally gain acceptance. But first we would have to survive it...

We tried to hold the door against the lunar battering ram with my repair spell, but we knew that time was all we fought for. We had been forced to dress and arm light, and our reconnaissance had told us that we would likely be facing hoplites.

Darkos came up with the idea to hide behind the bars and try and talk our way out of it. It filled me with trepidation, and over the course of our bluff I had to fight the urge to flee, but the three of us stood until the end.

I knew that the soldiers would be hesitant. Their demeanour would be torn between the appearance of assured victory and the unlikelihood and audacity of our presence. The veterans amongst them would wisely be cautious, and so it proved. It took them too long to make the decisions that would have won them the day, but of course I can only say this with hindsight, for the gulf between total victory and total defeat was only measured in the space of a few heartbeats. We tried everything we could to stall the Lunars; threats, offers of surrender, attacks, magic, taunts and apparent capitulation, ever moving toward the recovery of Grant and Gramper. Finally our time ran out, and Darkos, Gaudyr and I stared through the bars at a wall of Lunar shields. They began to hit us with multiple disruption spells, although it took them a few seconds to realise that we had countermagic. Darkos was overcome, and seeing his imminent death, he dived for the magical matrix. On seeing this the Lunar officer ordered the all out assault, for now it must have dawned upon him that from the certainty of victory, he was now looking at explaining to the Provost how he had allowed an important prisoner to be rescued not only from a Lunar jail, but before his very eyes.

As Grant and Gramper stirred I felt the first stirrings of elation. As they vanished through the teleportal I implored Gaudyr to follow, and finally, grasping the stone and activating the magic I watched the cell vanish only to be replaced by the cold, starry night of Death Hollow where fellow Orlanthi rebels were hopefully waiting with our mounts and equipment. Now we would see how our trust and risk would be judged...