"Thalia," Ketharion said, repeating the Tabaxi's name. "I've never seen one of your kind before."

"I hail from Taladas," Thalia explained as she wiped her bloody claws on her own fur. "It's far to the North East of here."

"I've sailed all around Ansalon, and I've only heard rumors of Taladas, and other lands," Feroz said, "but as far out away from Ansalon that I've sailed, I've never come across these lands."

"The men like this one here," she pointed to one of the dead humans in the blur, ornate chainmail armor, "sailed in many ships to Taladas. Recruited goblins, ogres, and their ilk - and took many as slaves. I snuck on their ship to see where it was going - to learn why these strangers who spoke differently - had come to Taladas. I was discovered, and though I fought my way to the top - when I reached the top of the ship - there was no land anywhere. I was captured and enslaved. Said I was made to be a pet for someone. Arrived in a crowded town, was transported at night - on our way - I don't know where - when all of you came out of the bushes and killed the captives."

"Did they say why they were in Taladas?" Ketharion asked.

"Recruiting soldiers for a Dragon Highlord," she shrugged, unsure of what that meant. The others exchanged nervous glances, also unaware of what that meant. 

Ketharion turned to Thalia, "Was there a prisoner? An elf like me among you at any time?" Ketharion had glanced beyond Thalia, and she was the only non-human prisoner in the cage. The others appeared to be human plains-people.

Thalia shook her head, "No elf prisoner," she answered matter-of-factly.

Ketharion cursed beneath his breath. He'd hoped when they discovered the slavers that his chief's son, Kolvar Bearpaw, had been abducted, and Ketharion had felt it was his fault - he'd been distracted during a bout of gambling. His chief, Beldroth Bearpaw, also blamed Ketharion and banished him from the tribe, branding him a 'Dark Elf.'

Breara  and Tharrom coaxed the frightened plains-people out of the wagon. "You are safe now," they said, "we  do not wish to harm you."

The plains-people, having seen the rescue effort step out of the cage, their eyes echoing trauma and fear they'd relentlessly endured. "How were the rest of you captured by these men," Tharrom asked as he extended his hand out to help the plains-people out of their cage.

One of the men stepped forward, "We had fled from our homes in the Estwild from vicious creatures - the likes we'd never seen before. We had heard that others had found passage to sail far away in the port town of Haligoth. So we had made our way there - only to discover that the town was overflowing from other refugees who had similar stories of these monsters attacking their towns and moving westward. The chief - or whatever you people call a leader of a city like that - was overwhelmed. The entire city had turned into a fight for survival. Murder. Theft. Mugging. All of those became common place. As more refugees came in the city could no longer hold the volume and people began living in make-shift tents outside the city walls. It'd been clear that we would not gain passage on a ship anytime soon, so we continued west - when these men captured us - claimed to be the law, and proclaimed that we were wanted for murder and theft and arrested us. However, it became very clear in listening, once we were captured that our fate was to become slaves for some mining community. I, unfortunately, never heard where or why."

"Rest and eat with us tonight," Tharrom suggested. "Then follow this path. This will take you to a small village named Hearthcrest. They have ample food and supplies and could use your help, perhaps rebuilding their town that recently suffered under the hands of cultists. From there, they can guide you to the Knights of Solamnia and to the town of Palanthus, perhaps, where I strongly recommend you share your story with them as well. We have urgent matters that take us further east to Jansburg."

"I caution you not to travel north of here," the plainsman said as he sat down next to the fire to keep warm. "Some of our companions who fled north - there is a small swamp or marsh in the area - they hoped that these men in armor would not chase them into the swamp because of their heavy armor... they were correct. The men did not pursue them... however, it's as if they knew something and waited, gazing north to the swamps for something - and satisfied when they saw black wings of doom rise from those swamps and devour those who'd fled in that direction. I know not what the beast was - but it was large - larger than anything I'd seen that could move - and even from here - it had filled me with fear as I watched in horror, trapped inside the cage, as my fellow plains-people were mercilessly devoured."

Breara gazed to the north, "The Grey Marshes," she whispered. She had heard that many years ago, an unusually strong hurricane come up from the New Sea, up through Kaolyn, and settled into Gaarlund, where it lasted for several days, before dying out. However, the hurricane's waters had been enough to flood the Vingaard River into the plains - and a massive sink hole had opened in the Plains of Solamnia - and filled with the overflow of the river. It had been a bit of a relief to the people, because this helped rapidly bring the river's waters back to normal - but the end result was much of the plains surrounding the sink hole collapsed into it and formed an area now known as the Grey Marsh, because of the coloration of the land and vegetation. Was the plainsman suggesting that a Black Dragon had settled there now? It seemed impossible to fathom; but until a few days ago - the idea of seeing a dragon seemed outlandish, but she - and her companions that had been in the Vesta Field sunken city all knew there'd been a spirit of a gold dragon that lived there, as well, as the shattered eggs of her own children - one that Breara was now able to spiritually connect with and summon forward.

Ronlyn finished searching  the slain slavers and pocketed the money for the moment and looked to his companions, "Should we look into that? Up to the north?"

"In the Grey Marsh?" Breara asked, clearly not comfortable with the idea, after hearing what the plainsman had described.

"No," Feroz shook his head. "We were asked by Reizer Wolfrunner to go to Jansburg and seek out Tolliman Evergreen and find out what it is that is happening in Jansburg. Perhaps when we uncover the mess in Jansburg, on our way back to Hearthcrest, if we are to come this way again, perhaps then we go north to the Grey Marsh and see what this black wings of doom might be. It sounds like a..." Feroz paused, it seemed hard to believe to him, just as well, "... a dragon." Feroz paused, "And if it is such a beast we may require the aid of the Knights... what remains of them as well."

"Good point," Ronlyn nodded, "and - long ago - the Knights used to go to Jansburg to gather. There was a Knight there who is honored by the people of Jansburg - when he and a dwarf fought off hordes of goblins who'd painted their faces red. A large inn, called The Red Goblin. There's a large crypt attached, where several Knights have come to be laid to rest. It's said that their spirits will rise and defend those in peril within Jansburg. But that's just... stories..." He paused, "Then again, until a few days ago, so were dragons."

At that moment, the gully dwarf, Bokk Zoop cleared his throat. "Squivel came back," the gully dwarf said with some great relief. "This world very big. Fotgot how big. You have new friends. Looks like you no need Poola Bopper and I anymore. We make our way back to home and tell my dad, we lead you to new friends - new friends take care of you."

Poola Bopper nodded, "Yeah, I still wanna go with you; but you know King assign me to watch over dodo over there. So I go back home with him." Though Poola spoke with bravery, it was clear that she too was relieved to be heading back home as well. "We keep watch over cage-people on the way back. We keep them safe like we keep you safe."

Breara knelt down and smiled at the pair of brave gully dwarves; she had very little experience with them, but had heard quite a bit about them from - mostly humans - who spoke so poorly of gully dwarves, but what she saw before her was two very brave gully dwarves, who also shared a deep love for one another - though neither seemed to speak a word of it. She looked at Poola's roller pin, which she'd used as a club-like weapon, and pointed at the runes, "Did you know these runes were magical? They're written in Elven; and make it so everything the rolling pin makes is excellent. I suspect that the enchantment is carrying over in how it is used as a weapon. You have a magic weapon, Poola." She looked at Bokk who looked a little downcast. "Fear not, Bokk - you have said you can see and hear through Squivel's eyes?"

Bokk nodded, "Yes. We talk all the time. Though he chatter sometimes and I no understand."

"I suspect that Squivel was once a powerful wizard's familiar - that is a special pet that they bond with - and when the Cataclysm came," she could see that Bokk had been following all the way up until she said 'cataclysm' - so she amended her words, "When the big city fall into ground - the wizard died, but their magic pet - this familiar - survived - and has bonded with you, sharing its magical abilities with you. You are both very special and never let anyone tell you otherwise. Thank you both for keeping us safe, and I rest easier," she said with a smile, "knowing you will be with these plainspeople, keeping them safe on their way to Hearthcrest."

 Tycus had been listening, his arms folded across his chest. As the gully dwarves walked off to sleep next to the fire, he asked, "You don't really believe all of that do you?"

Breara stood up and brushed herself off. "First there was Tegaru, who led us to Habbakuk. We learned that Tergaru came from Vesta Field, where there was a temple of Habbakuk that welcomed her and the gully dwarves, but kept draconians out. We learn there's a spirit of a gold dragon there. Often times, we think ourselves above those below us - but the gods, they love their creations - as clean or as filthy as they may be. I believe those three have been touched and guided by the gods, to place them in our path for a reason - and that reason was made very clear to me in the Vesta Field Habbakuk temple. So yes, Tycus Half-Elven, I do believe that."

That night, as Ketharion took watch, he could not help but look to the north. It was not long after the others had fallen asleep to the sound of orange embers crackling and racing into the sky that he'd heard a loud roar, and his eyes turned to the white moon of Solinari, which revealed a black shadow with massive wings, flying before it; and he too had felt the same fear that rattled his bones, despite the distance between it and himself. As Breara took over the second watch, she noticed that several animals had been fleeing from the north and suspected that if it was indeed a dragon that lived now in the Gray Marsh, these animals were driven by its evil presence.

The following morning, Bokk and Poola "lead" the Plainsmen in the direction of Hearthcrest, while the others pack their things to continue west.

"Should we be worried we trusted two gully dwarves to lead the plainsmen to Hearthcrest?" Ketharion asked. He had had some exposure to the gully dwarves during the times his gambling addiction took over and he found himself in a small human city or village, where he'd encountered gully dwarves living in the alley. He'd believed, for the longest time, that all dwarves were like gully dwarves, until he'd met Dougan Redhammer, a flamboyant dwarf gambler, at one of the tables he'd been gambling on - and clarified that gully dwarves were different than mountain and even hill dwarves. And that, within the mountains, there was mountain dwarves - but there were also the Daergar, Daewar, Theiwar, Klar, and Aghar (with the Aghar, being the aforementioned "gully dwarves"). Dougan Redhammer, Ketharion recalled, went into great detail explaining all of the differences between all of the dwarves in overly great detail. 

Breara smiled at Ketharion, "The plainsmen are probably much safer with them then anyone else. Gods and dragons watch over them. We should all be so lucky."

It'd taken nearly half of the day's sunlight before they'd arrived at the gates of Jansburg. A wooden wall surrounded the city as a defense. Rising several stories taller than the wooden wall was a large building that had been painted red. "The Red Goblin Inn," Ronalyn said to no one in particular as they entered Jansburg. The streets of Jansburg were eerily quiet and empty, and the guards mounted on the defensive wall seemed ready to run at a moment's notice. Those that they saw on the street - which were very few - also seemed very on edge. But a quick look around Jansburg and nothing was immediately obvious what had all of these people so on edge or what it could be that the Knight had seen to worry him so? Everything, as far as the eye could see, seemed absolutely normal. The few that were out on the streets were moving quickly - casting long glances at the minotaur and the tabaxi; one was notoriously known to be a pirate, the other was something they'd never seen before - and this only intensified whatever had rattled the people of Jansburg.

"We should find out where Tolliman is," Ronlyn whispered. "Everyone seems really on edge. A pin drop could make these people either run or attack. I can't tell which."

"Guard," Feroz's deep voice called out. The guard nearly jumped out of his armor.

"We should have had someone with less of a booming voice," Ronlyn sighed.

"Where is Tolliman at?" Feroz continued to ask.

"You will find him in The Red Goblin, trying to deal with Rafferty, the Inn Keeper," the guard said, clearly trying to calm himself.

"What has you so on edge?" Tharrom asked.

"I don't know what to make of what I saw," the guard answered matter-of-factly. "That's what Tolliman is trying to get to the bottom of."

"Let's head for the inn," Tycus said, walking ahead of the others.

Inside the Red Goblin Inn, a man – clearly the Innkeeper seemed to be yelling at another man, who looked to be nicely dressed. The Innkeeper shouted, "We have to do something about her! She’s driven away all the business I’ve got!"

The man dressed in nice clothes responded, "I understand your concerns, Rafferty. But I don’t know what else to do – we sent someone down – and they nearly went mad and looked as if they’ve aged fifty years. I can’t send anyone else down there."

As Tycus and the others entered the Inn, Rafferty pointed to them and said, "Then, send them down there to deal with it."

"Apologies, strangers," the nicely dressed man named Tolliman Evergreen said as he approached them. "There’s been some trouble that we have been dealing with. I do not want to bother you with these things."

Rafferty looked at them; his gaze going between them and Tolliman and muttered beneath his breath, but clearly meant to be heard and said, "They look exactly like the kind of people that deal with these kinds of things, Tolliman."

Tolliman winced, embarrassed by Rafferty's comments, shaking his head and turned towards the Innkeeper. "I am not going to ask these newly arrived people to deal with this." 

He then turned back to the party and said, "I am sorry, strangers, but if you were hoping to find rest here tonight, I would strongly recommend looking elsewhere."

"We were sent here from the mayor of Hearthcrest. He'd heard you'd had some troubles, and one of the Knights who came to investigate what had happened, said he met someone who had gone mad and seemingly aged significantly, by what they'd seen," Tharrom said.

"Yes," Tolliman nodded, "a Knight arrived several days after everything had happened. We'd taken Nauren Ovaltide into our infirmary to see if we could determine what had happened - he was one of our best guards - and he came out from the crypt insane and aged twenty or so years! Unfortunately he passed just a few days ago. The Knight said he was riding back to Hearthcrest, where he had other companions."

"We know the knight," Tharrom explained. "He told us what happened and we came to see what we could uncover."

Tolliman looked relieved, "You're... adventurers then? Perhaps indeed you may be able to help us. It would seem, someone came to visit the Solamnia Knight Mausoleum we have attached to the Red Goblin... the original layer was underground... and as more Knights wished to be laid to rest here, we expanded the Mausoleum to now be three stories - one beneath, two above - at any rate, this human - he went inside to the bottom layer... and the next thing we know an hour later, he came out with... I wasn't here... I didn't see it... but I felt it. Raff, what did you call it?"

"A Knight of Death and Doom!" Rafferty proclaimed. "None other than Sir Gallic Starblade. I could tell by the sword – it had the Starblade crest markings!"

"We can't confirm... because the only one to go down there was Nauren... and the only thing that made sense during his madness, was that he said he felt the chill touch of something down below."

"It's a Death Knight," a voice said from a dark corner of the Inn. As if stepping from the very shadows itself, a black robed wizard stepped forth. "And the one who summoned him was none other than the Death Priest, Krizzen Arcmoon." The human black robed wizard leaned on his staff, his black, pupil-less eyes looked at those speaking with Tolliman. "Good, I can see by your exchanged glances, you've heard of Krizzen. My name is Arrigus Mistborn and perhaps we can help one another." The owl perched on his shoulder seems to eye them, its gaze falling on each person, judging them. Arrigus lifted his staff, and gently pressed it against Tharrom's cloak, revealing the Symbol of Gilean on his armor. "The God of Knowledge, good," Arrigus smiled, "I could definitely use your help in some matters."

"You're a Black Robed Wizard, what help would you want from us?" Tharrom asked. "You and your Dark Queen wage war against the Light."

Arrigus leaned on his staff, "I do not serve the Dark Queen. My only loyalty is to Nuitari," he said, matter-of-factly. So much so that it rang with an unusual truth in the tone in which he spoke the words.

"Yes, but Nuitari is the Dark Moon and the son of Takhisis, the Queen of Darkness, and Sargonnas, the Red Condor," Tharrom replied. "Why would her son not serve at his mother's side?"

"The answer is obvious, cleric of knowledge," Arrigus shrugged. "Because Nuitari's mother is smothering. If she wins this war, she will force her son to bend the knee to her. All of his magic and knowledge will go to serving her and her cause. While Nuitari loves his mother dearly, he does not wish to bestow all he has fought for and learned to his mother. So," Arrigus shrugged, "he has selected a few of us during our Tests to tell us what our truth path is. To ensure that his mother does not win the coming war."

"What do you get out of it?" Tharrom asked. "This seems like a very risky thing to do."

"What do I get out of it? I get Nuitari's favor," Arrigus smiled, "and with it, the promise of power."

"Power," Tharrom shook his head. "Is that all you care about?"

"For now, there's other matters," Arrigus replied. "I would like your help getting to Haligoth so that I can gain passage aboard a ship and rescue an Irda, that I believe may have been captured by Ogres who are working for the Dark Queen."

"An Irda?" Feroz asked. "That's ridiculous." Feroz knew of the Irda, solely because long before the Cataclsym, the Irda - when they were known as Ogres, had enslaved many Minotaur, and the Cataclysm had come as a signal for the Minotaurs to break free of their slavers. "There's been no sign of the Irda since they sailed away - they're all Ogres now, changed and malformed, by their hatred and greed."

History had stated that the Ogres were the first-born after Dragons; though the Ogres of today were nothing like the Ogres when they’d first been born into the world.

Created by Takhisis as her favored children, they were tall, handsome, strong, and believed to have been immortal. Because they’d been created by Takhisis herself, they were inherently distrustful of others, so as they encountered graceful elves, dwarves forging wonderful weapons and armors, and the Humans who seem to spread like a disease across the land, adapting to the land and calling it their home, the Ogres often responded in kind with the one thing that sang in their heart and mind - violence. Those they did not kill, they enslaved, for the Ogres believed themselves to be superior to all, save the gods and dragons.

An Ogre by the name of Igrane, who was to kill one such slave, who’d disobeyed his order, but had managed to rescue his own daughter, he could not bring to kill. Instead, he’d set the slave free and came to learn from his experience. He, and a small sect of Ogres, fled and began to understand that violence was not the only way to live; but there could be peace and harmony with the other people of the world.

When Igrane tried to teach this to the other Ogre clans, they scoffed and rebuked his offerings of peace and harmony. It was not long after, a civil war between the Ogres erupted – and the Ogre Wars took place – no one knows where – but Igrane, and those who believed, fled the land as it was soaked with their own kin’s blood. The few that followed him fled on a single canoe, guided by Mishakal who saw Igrane and the peace in his heart. She magically transported them to an island called Anaiatha.

Igrane would bestow leadership to his daughter and vanished into the mountains. He returned centuries later with a book called “Irdanaiath” and renamed his people The Irda, which translated to “The Gentle Ones.” The Irdanaiath became a sacred tome that the Irda used as a guidance as to how they should lead their lives. 

A century before the cataclysm, war seeking Ogres began invading their island, having tracked down the Irda. The Irda warred with the war-hungry Ogres and felt that they did not need the gods’ aid, and won. Their High King turned his back on their temple and proclaimed that the Irda no longer needed the gods. 

Then the Cataclysm struck. 

The Cataclysm had one devastating result to the Irda – it had swallowed the High King as well as the temple that held the Irdanaiath into the depths of the sea and were never seen again.

Arrigus looked at Feroz, "Until recently, I'd wager the gods hadn't been seen for a very, very, very long time. The Irda I seek is named Aushlay, though I've heard her called Silvereyes, as well. From my ... connections, I've heard she's been made a prisoner by Ogres in Blodehelm. Perhaps, I can help you with what waits below and you help me get to a ship so that I might find a way to free Aushlay from the Ogres - you could come along on the boat and help me free the Irda and fight the Dark Queen's forces while you're at it. Something, by the looks of it, you're already wanting to do."

"Do you know what's down there?" Feroz asked, stepping forward, pointing down the open door that lead to the crypt.

"I am not positive, but since I know it was Krizzen Arcmoon who raised the Death Knight, I can suspect that what is down below is a banshee or a spirit of some kind," Arrigus replied, "that of the Death Knight's wife."

"How do we get rid of a spirit?" Ketharion asked, feeling out of place. He'd not dealt with the undead, like his other companions had.

"Indeed," Arrigus said, with a crooked smile. "How do you kill that which can not be killed?"

"We've killed enough undead," Ronalyn retorted.

"Zombies, perhaps," Arrigus guessed, "but they have physical bodies. Something your blades can pierce and cut. But a spirit has no physical form. Your blade would hurt her just as much as it would stabbing the air."

"What would you suggest then?" Thalia asked, extending and retracting her claws. Among her people, on Taladas, they had stories of the undead, and how their kind could sometimes sense them. As she focused, she could feel there was an unusual coldness to the Inn. "How do we get rid of her? Magic?"

Arrigus' black eyes settled on Tharrom, "I suspect our cleric here will be our saving grace."

"If you are to come with us, black robe," Ketharion spoke, the words dripped with contempt, "you will march between us where some of us can keep an eye on you."

"I'd have it no other way," Arrigus smirked. "After all, should an enemy attack from the front or the back, I would dearly like to be surrounded and safe."

Ketharion's lip curled in frustration.


"I am not welcomed here," Arrigus whispered as they walked down the flight of stairs, into the crypt below. "The presence of the Knights are here... and I feel their distrust of those who are Wizards of High Sorcery..."

"Or, perhaps, it's your black robes they don't trust," Ronlyn muttered beneath his breath, though he ensured that it'd been loud enough for Arrigus to hear.

None of the torches that were normally patrolled each night and lit by the caretakers of the crypt were lit and an eerie, cold, darkness lingered. Tharrom held out his hand and whispered a gentle prayer, then a small flame was produced in the palm of his hand. "Gilean's light will guide us," he remarked as he took the lead. Feroz was next to him, his muscular hands wrapped around the hilt of his axe he'd found in Vesta Fields; though Arrigus had warned them if it was a spirit that was down here, no physical weapon would be of any use.

Behind Tharrom and Feroz were Ronalyn, Arrigus and Ketharion - both Ronalyn and Ketharion wanting to keep an eye on Arrigus. Behind them, Tycus and Thalia walked side by side, saying nothing to one another, both ready to attack Arrigus at the first sign of trouble. Bringing up the rear was Breara, who felt uneasy inside such an enclosed space. She'd lived all of her life in the woods and these stone walls seemed to be closing in on her.

"Do not disturb the tomb of the Knights," Tharrom said, as he held his flame up and noticed there'd been several tombs with writing below; Benedict Helmsman (Knight of the Crown), Elias Stormshield (Knight of the Sword), on and on, the tombs of fallen knights - their names and their deeds etched forever in stone. As they rounded the corner of the crypt, a large statue of a Knight standing proudly, lance in hand with the inscription, "Light Shall Preserve."

Tharrom approached the statue in awe. Something compelled him to come closer. "Huma Dragonbane," Tharrom awed. This had not been where Huma was buried - this had simply been a statue erected in his honor to watch over the Knights who'd been buried here. He touched the lance and recalled the stories - stories, he laughed to himself - that he'd heard about Huma Dragonbane. Had them been stories, he wondered, or - after what he has seen - was it history? He felt oddly at ease now, despite the eerie, inexplicable chill that lingered in the crypt. The line of buried Knights went on as they turned from left to right, and back to left again, rounding another corner where yet another statue had been erected - this one read Vinas Solamnus, the human who'd been the symbol and creation of the Knights.

It was when Tharrom looked to the left he saw it - a phantasmal figure of a woman who paced back and forth, her feet dangling several inches above the ground. She had seemed to sense him just as he'd seen her as she suddenly charged him, her features distorted and horrifying to gaze upon, her hands reached for his throat - before she hissed and pulled away. "Blessed," she hissed, "protected." She looked past Tharrom. "I see those who lack the protection... perhaps I shall touch them... mangle their mind and memories... steal their life..."

"Hold," Tharrom said, "please," he said more gently. "We not have come to do you harm. We've come to help you. What can we do to help you rest again?"

"He took my husband, my love, the one who cared deeply for me," the female spirit moaned. Her sorrow and sadness was enough to even cause a Kender to feel awkward in her presence, still Tharrom was not affected. "Bring him back to me."

"Then you are Lady Eltrisa Starblade," Tharrom asked, looking over his shoulder at the black robed wizard, Arrigus, who only smirked at the confirmation that he'd been correct.

"I am," she hissed.

"We can bring your husband back," Tharrom agreed. "But it will take some time. The one who has taken him and turned him into a Death Knight has gotten ahead of us. How shall we bring him back? Do we need to destroy him?"

"Defeat him in combat, as a proper Knight should die," she whispered.

"Redemption,"Arrigus whispered.

"Redeem him, yes," the female spirit moaned. "So that he can be returned to me. Redeem him, fight him fairly, and the gods will see to it that he is returned to me. Then, and only then, will I know peace."

"And should the gods condemn him for his actions he make take a death knight, what then spirit?" Arrigus asked.

"Then I will follow him, for my place is forever at his side, no matter where it might be," she moaned.

"What can we do to help you find rest now?" Tharrom asked.

She placed her hand on Tharrom's chest - directly on the symbol of Gilean he wore - "Make me the promise that you will, until death, seek our my husband, and promise you will fight him fairly, so that he might find redemption if it is possible?"

Tharrom felt his chest burn with the cold her hand caused, so much so he'd almost been force to clutch at his chest as if his heart had stopped. "I make you this promise, Lady Eltrisa Starblade."

"Then, for now, we have an accord," she whispered, and with that; the torches lit up again, the coldness vanished as it'd never been, as did the fog that had lingered on the floor.

"Making a deal with the undead," Arrigus mused aloud. "Rather surprising, cleric of Gilean. I hope you know what you've agreed to. Should you fail in the bargain you have just made, she will be able to find you no matter where you hide, and I do not believe Gilean, or any god, would be able to protect you from her wrath."

"I will not break my promise to her, black robe," Tharrom assured Arrigus, as he extinguished the flame in his palm he'd produced.

"Good, then I assume you will not break your promise to me," Arrigus smirked.

"You did not help us," Ronalyn interjected.

"On the contrary," Arrigus leaned on his staff, "had I not warned you that, first of all it was a spirit, and that it was undoubtedly Eltrisa Starblade, the lot of you would have come in here, blades drawn and tried to kill that which can not be killed - in doing so, would have dishonored the Knights of the crypt - who would have, no doubt - also rose to defend a mourning woman - spirit or not. I am guessing it was Huma's statue that blessed you, cleric of Gilean, when you touched it - and that would no doubt have vanished - exposing you - and your companion's to the spirit's touch. You heard what Tolliman said about the other guard - Nauren Ovaltide - he had his life force drained from his body, his mind destroyed and died a few short days later, unable to sleep because of the horrors that haunted his mind. The lot of you would be dead and I would be out adventurers who could prove useful to me."

"You mentioned the Irda and Blodehelm," Feroz growled. "I had a ship - my brother now runs my crew and fleet. I - and we - have no way of getting you to Blodehelm."

"No, but I could book a passage to Blodehelm, or close enough to it, if I reach Haligoth," Arrigus replied.

"You could just walk or..." Tycus wiggled his fingers in the air and waved his arms about, "magic yourself there."

"I would like to say I could," Arrigus mimiced Tycus' tone, "magic myself there," he said, "but truth of the matter is, I don't possess that power yet. So, an escort would be ideal."

"Why would you need an escort?" Breara asked, curiously.

"Because, as I said up in the Inn," Arrigus explained, "I stand against the Dark Queen. Her eyes have not fallen on me yet, but Krizzen Arcmoon is very aware of my ploy to stop him and the Dark Queen. He's already made one attempt on my life. I suspect he knows roughly where I am based off the previous attack against me. He undoubtedly has someone between here and Haligoth and here and Hearthcrest, watching the roads for me and ready to ambush me. If all of you could help ensure my safety to Haligoth - we can part ways once we get there and I will figure out how to rescue Aushlay myself."

"Fine," Tharrom said, before anyone else could react. "We escort you to Haligoth, then we part ways."

"That is all I had asked," Arrigus nodded as he pulled his cowl over his head. "Nothing more, nothing less."


Inside the Inn, Tharrom explained, "It was a restless spirit down below as Arrigus had surmised. Lady Eltrisa Starblade was indeed the restless spirit. I've... made a pact with her. She will be at rest for now."

"Do the people who stay at this Inn know there's a crypt attached?" Tycus asked. "That seems... unusual."

"It's what makes the Red Goblin Inn unique," Tolliman explained. "A Knight and a Dwarf fended off an army of goblins, and this Inn was named in honor of that. Knights who'd heard of that Knight's bravery - a man named who was but a squire in the Knighthood at the time named Berthel Brightblade and the Dwarf who fought at his side, Romgar Firesteel. The dwarf would go on to make a fine blade for the Knight that he called Brightblade. Knights took a great interest in how a squire had found his courage - and from here - was welcomed into the Knights fully. The Knights who have come to be buried here do so in honor of Berthel Brightblade's courage - with the belief that should anything come from Jansburg, their spirits will rise and defend the city. People do not get nervous - many feel at ease here - prior, to the haunting. But with that taken care of again, I hope Raff can get people to come back. The crypts were also a place people came to pay their respects to these Knights. The few that still believe in the good of the Knights of Solamnia, that is."

"Is there anywhere in town we can get horses?" Ronalyn asked.

"You're leaving then?" Tolliman asked, somewhat disappointed. "I can speak to Raff and get all of you free rooms for the night. It's not like it's booked ever since the haunting."

"We would appreciate that," Tycus nodded.

"I can go speak to Merias Steel, she's the one with the horses. I do know that when the Death Knight appeared, many of her horses spoked so much they broke out of her kennels, so they've lost a few horses," Tolliman explained. "But for tonight, rest here in the Inn. I will talk to Raff Redcliff and get you rooms. I will talk to Merias in the meantime. Where are you going, if I may ask?"

"Haligoth," Tharrom answered. "We promised to take Arrigus to Haligoth."

"Haligoth!" Tolliman looked momentarily excited, then a twinge of pain reflected in his eyes. "If you go to Haligoth, seek out Mayor Morgan Zahra. She and I used to be... lovers. I ran a tavern in Haligoth and she was a sailor. So whenever she docked in Haligoth she and I enjoyed each other's company... immensely. However, I began to fall deeper in love with her, I believe than she me. I believe she enjoyed being out in the sea - because it was wide open. No boundries. The idea of settling was something she was never interested in. I eventually could not take the heartache and sold my tavern in Haligoth and left. I came to Jansburg and discovered the previous owner of the Red Goblin Inn was looking to sell and settle out on the farms. I purchased it from him and ran it for many years, before the mayor of Jansburg passed and the people begged me to become the new mayor. I did so - but being the mayor of Jansburg and running the Red Goblin Inn had been too much so I sold it to Raff Redcliff."


Thalia and Breara took a room together and spent the night, exchanging stories about their culture and their continents. Breara had never heard of Taladas; she'd heard rumors of some distant land that took many weeks to sail to with nothing between the two making it a periolous journey that few took. But from what she learned from Thalia, apparently the Dragon Armies were indeed sending their ships to Taladas and either recruited or enslaving people to become a part of the Dragon Army.

Ketharion, Feroz and Tharrom shared a room together. Ketharion had met Feroz during one of his journies. Destiny, it would seem, placed him in Feroz's path yet again, while he sought the Chief's son. In their room, Feroz and Tharrom discussed plans on fighting the Dragon Army and laughed from time to time, as they shared a bottle of amber wine that Tolliman had delivered, about how they'd managed to deceive the Draconians, and clanked their glasses, as they said, "Hail to the Queen."

Ronalyn, Tycus and Arrigus shared a room. As Arrigus settled for the night, leaning his staff next to his bed, he looked around, "I see they put the outsiders together," he mused.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ronalyn asked. Tycus stood near Ronalyn, wary of the black robed wizard.

"Listen to the walls," Arrigus said as he laid down. "In one room, the woman, the elf-woman and the cat-woman bond over stories they share about their different continents. In the other room, the cleric and bull seem to be enjoying the bottle Tolliman delivered to each room. I am surprised the elf-druid isn't in here with us, to be honest." Arrigus rolled over to his side and seemed to fall asleep. His owl, which he'd named Nightshade, sat perched on the bedframe, watching Ronalyn and Tycus; and both of them were certain that if Arrigus was asleep, he was somehow, still watching them through his owl-familiar, and that caused them great discomfort as the owl's unblinking eyes seemed to swivel and watch them as they moved around the room.

The flowing morning, Tolliman greeted them as they came down for breakfast. "I spoke with Merias Steel, and have good news and bad news. She only has six horses, and there's eight among you. One of you may need to double up."

Ketharion shook his head, "I have the ability to shift my form. I can take on that of a horse."

Arrigus pulled back his cowl, his unnaturally black eyes gazed at Tolliman, "I do not need a horse, either." Arrigus crushed black coal in his hands that he'd pulled out from one of his spell component pouches and sprinkled it on the ground outside; chanting a few spidery words of the arcane, a burst of black shadow exploded from the charcoal and in its place stood a horse, as black as night, whose form seemed to be composed of wispy ash - and while did not seem solid - had a saddle, bridle and everything one would expect on a riding horse, as Arrigus pulled himself onto the back of his steed.

"I like him less and less," Ronalyn whispered to Tharrom as he mounted his horse.

"Once we get him to Haligoth safely, we can part ways with him," Tharrom replied, mounting his horse as well.


They'd only been riding for one day, before they encountered a tree that had fallen across the path. Arrigus looked around, then whispered to his owl, who took flight. Ketharion dismounted and handed his reigns over to Feroz as he walked over, placing his hands on the tree to see if he could discover why this tree had fallen. Ronlyn also dismounted, handing his reigns to Feroz as well, as he slipped into the bushes to the right to see if this could be an ambush of some kind. Thalia handed her reigns over to Arrigus, having no care what color his robes were, for she had very little experience with Wizards and their order, and did not understand why everyone seemed uneasy around the Wizard. After dismounting, she leapt into a tree with all the grace of feline-like people.

From the height of the trees, Thalia quickly pauses as her eyes suddenly see an all too familiar figure - a large ogre, club in hand, hiding and watching. It was however, the figure with the Ogre that gave Thalia the most pause - it was large, like an Ogre - in every way, looked very similar to an Ogre - save for it had two heads. Thalia realizes this is an ambush and has no time to be subtle - leaping down - she lands on several leaves that alert the two headed creature - the Ettin - of her location. The Ettin, with a massive club in one hand, brings it down, trying to crush Thalia's skull, but Thalia's cat like reflexes allow her to quickly move out of the way, so that the Ettin's club collides against the tree she'd landed next to making so much noise as it struck and shook the tree with the immense force of his blow, that the others immediately heard the sound and quickly drew their weapons. Ketharion, who'd been examining the tree, now saw a thick arm poking from the bushes and tapped his staff into the ground and extended his hand towards the Ogre's arm - and a phantasmal whip, made of swirling vines and leaves lashed forward and pulled the Ogre partially out of cover. Feroz, all too familiar with Ogre and their kind, rushed forward, bringing his axe into the Ogre's arm; however, in his haste had been unaware that the Ettin had been there as well. The Ettin had managed to catch Feroz unaware and struck a powerful blow to the back of the Minotaur's head, sending Feroz forward, his mind spinning, ears ringing. Tharrom had rushed to Feroz's side and had been caught unaware by the Ogre's massive club that struck the Cleric and sent him sprawling forward as well.

Tycus ran to Feroz's side next and placed his hands on him, channeling the Cataclysm stones in his armor, to funnel magical, healing energy into Feroz who woke up with a pounding headache to a scene of chaos. Ronlyn was trying to dodge between the Ogre and the Ettin, while Thalia's claws were cutting into the Ogre's flesh, but seemingly to do very little due to the Ogre's body mass; Breara was firing arrows as quickly as she could into both the Ogre and the Ettin, trying to keep both off balance. Tharrom was still lying on the ground, unconscious, blood on the back of his head from the Ogre's massive blow, Ketharion was coming to his side, while Arrigus was standing back, launching spells at both Ogre and Ettin, using his Owl familiar, Nightshade, helped keep the Ogre and the Ettin distracted as it repeatedly dove at them. Feroz pointed to Tharrom, "Ketharion, make sure he's okay," he growled, as he firmly gripped his battleax and charged into the fray of battle again.

Ketharion growled, "I am working on it." He placed his hand on the ground and asked for Habbakuk's blessing, in which the goddess responded, by creating a healing spirit that rose up from the ground, leaves swirling around Feroz and Tharrom, offering magical healing. As Tharrom stood - he touched the Ogre and tapped into a twisted version of his heal - inflicting wounds on the Ogre who howled. Thalia jumped on the Ogre's back and drove her claws into the Ogre's flesh; she'd been all too familiar with Ogres on Taladas, as well as the Ogres that came with the "Dragon Army" aboard the ships, enslaving people of Taladas and abducting them. The Ogre struggled to get Thalia off of his back - when he suddenly felt a pain like he'd never felt before - as one of Breara's arrows struck him in the knee, forcing him to buckle. Then Breara said the words - "Indarna, his throat!"

Indarna, Breara's golden drake rushed forward, climbing the Ogre's massive body, and opened its maw, and brought it down on the Ogre's throat, ripping it out. The Ogre fell back, dropping his weapon, his meaty hands clasped around his throat in an effort to stop the bleeding. He gurgled and choked for several minutes before going silent.

The Ettin, even with two heads, could not keep the focused attacks at bay. Feroz cut deep with his axe, while Ronalyn stepped in and out of the shadows, slashing at the Ettin's flesh with his daggers; Tycus channeled the Cataclysm stones in his armor to unleash magical poisons and acid, Tharrom healed those whom the Ettin had hit, Ketharion lashed out using nature to wreak havoc on the Ettin, while Thalia, in a frenzied rage, moved like lightning, in and out of the Ettin's face, her claws ripping into its flesh, while Breara filled its belly with arrows and Arrigus landed several spells. It's unclear who delivered the final, killing blow, when the Ettin collapsed forward, dead.

Searching the bodies, Ronalyn pulled out a note that the Ogre had folded in the leather that had barely kept up its loin cloth. "Our friend Krizzen is at it again," he said, rolling the note up and handing it to Tharrom.

Tharrom read the note aloud, looking over at Arrigus, "I've seen the Black Robed Wizard named Arrigus at Jansburg - it is, as I suspected, he has turned his back on the Dark Queen. I have urgent matters to attend to ... I trust your brute strength will be enough to deal with him and any companions he may employ to guard him. Hurt him - but bring him to me - alive." Tharrom paused, "Then it's signed, Krizzen Arcmoon, Cleric of Chemosh." Tharrom looked at the dead Ogre and the dead Ettin. "Perhaps you were not lying that you have turned your back on the Dark Queen. Or," Tharrom said, throwing the note on the ground, "this was all an elaborate plan you set up to look that way."

"You think highly of me," Arrigus smiled beneath the shadows of his hood, "but I did not arrange this Ogre and this Ettin to attack us. You said you've seen notes from other allies of Krizzen - and you've seen his signature."

Ronalyn sneered, "I hate to admit it... I've had my... dealings with... forgery... and that signature... it looked genuinely like Krizzen's."

"We're about two days away from Haligoth," Feroz muttered, his head still ringing from when he'd been struck from behind. "We need to find a place to make camp," he muttered, not wanting to stop, but he could still feel his head pounding, and he could see that Tharrom, who'd also been struck from behind, was not feeling well either. Ketharion was looking at the fallen tree, and turned, "Either the Ogre or Ettin put this tree here with the intention of ambushing us. It was ripped from over there," he pointed, more than ten feet away from where the tree now lay across the path. "We should be wary of any other such trouble. I will scout ahead," Ketharion offered. A short while later, the druid returned, "There's a good place, just up ahead a little - it's off the rode, hidden behind a small grove of trees, so that no one should be able to see us; but close enough to the road, that we will not have to go far."


Moving to the small, hidden clearing just off the rope, Tharrom and Ronalyn tethered the horses to a nearby tree and provided them with nourishment. Breara and Ronalyn offered to take watch, while the others unrolled their traveling packs and laid on the floor. Choosing not to make a campfire to prevent drawing unwanted attention towards them, the chill of the evening forced them to wrap themselves tightly within their blankets.

Ronalyn had taken first watch, perched up in the branches of a tree, he gazed to the sky and watched the constellations. The gods of Krynn were there, in the heavens, etched in the stars. He'd never been one to follow religion, nor did he follow one of his closest friends, into the Knighthood. He'd always been out on his own, survivng how he knew how to - relying on no one but himself. But, he wondered and worried about the war that was coming - he could feel it all around him. Soon, he suspected, the world was going to be very different. That's when he caught the sound of something - voices whispering. Quietly descending down the tree, Ronalyn moved towards the voices and saw several people moving as quietly as possible. They did not look like soldiers or goblins or draconians. They looked human.

Stepping back into the bushes, Ronalyn made his way back to the camp and saw Ketharion was still awake. "There's some people moving along the path. They look similar to the plainsmen who were in the cages. They're dressed similarly, and also cut up, bruised, and look terrified. I didn't spot any weapons on them except for a few had sticks, which just look like weapons to defend themselves, not to really attack."

"We should go check on them," Ketharion whispered, standing up. "They could know the people who we just rescued from the cages."

Ronalyn and Ketharion moved through the bushes, standing on the path. The plainsmen, seeing two figures before them halted. One of the plainspeople stepped forward, "We mean no harm. We only seek to pass."

"We mean you no harm either," Ronalyn replied. "We recently rescued several people, similar to you, from cages. We only wish to see if there's anything we can do. Where do all of you hail from?"

"The Estwilde," the man replied, "well, that is until the dragon-men came." Ketharion and Ronalyn exchanged knowing glances. "Once the dragon-men came, we fled west - then south, seeking to find passage in Haligoth to escape the slaughter which the dragon-men brought with them. However, in Haligoth, things are out of control. There are thieves and murderers everywhere now. Good people turned bad out of desperation. Guards were arresting people without even sure who committed the crime. It was not what we had hoped to find. So we fled Haligoth and pressed westward."

"How did you escape Haligoth if they were arresting people?" Ketharion asked.

"Getting out of Haligoth is easy," the man replied, "they won't stop you from leaving. Getting into Haligoth is the problem."

"How is getting into Haligoth a problem?" Ronalyn asked. He'd been to Haligoth before, many times, before all of this had happened. It was a normal port city with a large gate for an entrance.

"The city has become so crowded due to fleeing refugees, that crime, as I said has gotten out of control," the man replied, his voice parched. "Now, if you ask to enter Haligoth, it requires a badge - a badge that must be visible at all times or the guards will arrest you. And getting a badge?" The man shook his head, "The Mayor is trying to get ships to help the refugees, but there's so many - and many ships... they're claiming to be attacked when they come near Haligoth and the New Sea, so the ships have slowed down but the refugees keep coming. Now, waiting for a badge can take up to a month's time. In the meantime, refuges have made a city of tents outside, surrounding Haligoth. I recommend turning back if Haligoth is your goal. I suspect the dragon-men we fled from in the Estwild are coming westward. Haligoth will fall in due time. Especially in the current state of the town."

"We've met these dragon-men you speak of," Ketharion nodded.

"How are you still alive? They attack with such brutality... and should you kill one... even in death, they are lethal," the plainsman said, his eyes haunted by his own experience.

"My friends and I are capiable," Ronalyn assured him.

"There's more of you?" The plainsman raised an eyebrow and looked around. 

Realizing they'd perhaps said too much, Ketharion said, "They scouted ahead of us looking for those dragon-men."

"We did not see anyone on the road," the plainsman tilted his head. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Pardon me, I am thirsty, as are the others with me. It has been so much running. If they scouted ahead, they must have veered off the road for a reason." The plainsman continued to talk, "Perhaps it is because they saw us? Had hoped to avoid seeing us? If so, they succeeded. We are experienced hunters and in our haste we may have missed their tracks on the road. We have tried to be very cautious of human and humanoid tracks on the path. We are clearly too exhausted to pay attention to the details. If you will pardon us, we shall press on and find a camp somewhere ahead to rest so that we do not make such careless mistakes. Good fortune to you." With that, he and the others begin to run westward.

"That was odd," Ronlyn whispered, "he got really talkative after he learned there were more of us."

"He was probably worried that we were bandits," Ketharion shrugged.

Slowly making their way back to the camp - they realized what had happened. Some of the plainsman must have scouted the camp - saw the others sleeping - and stealthfully taken their horses. Ketharion and Ronlyn ran back out onto the path, but the plainpeople were no longer in sight, undoubtedly having met the others who had stolen the horses and rode away.

"Well, this will be an awkward conversation in the morning," Ronlyn shook his head.


"The point of keeping watch is having eyes on the camp," Tycus shouted. "What if they'd come and slit our throats?" Tycus was furious, not so much that the horses had been stolen, but that Ronalyn and Ketharion had left the camp unattended. 

"While I don't agree with the volume at which Tycus makes his point," Breara said more softly, "I do agree. You should have waken someone up so that someone is awake to ensure everyone in the camp remains safe."

"I am not used to thinking of others," Ronalyn shrugged. "I've spent so long just surviving and only worrying about myself. It slipped my mind."

"Something to consider next time we make camp," Tycus growled.


The rest of the travel to Haligoth was spent in awkward silence, as everyone marched, eyes forward, feet sore. As Haligoth came into sight, however, the plainsman who had been a part of the group who had stolen their horses told one truth - there was indeed a "tent city" outside of Haligoth and it was far worse than either Ronalyn or Ketharion had imagined when the plainsman had mentioned it; thousands of tents, nearly on top of each other, lined the port city's gates, like cluttered liter dropped by towering giants. It may have been a blessing that the horses were stolen, as moving between the tents that were scattered all about, were done so with no rhyme or reason, and moving between them was extremely difficult. At the sound of footsteps, the people within the tents seemed to spring out, like a triggered trap, asking for food, help, anything that could be spared. What should have only taken about ten minutes, took over an hour, maneuvering through the tents and people to reach the front gates.

One of the two guards looked up, and with lack of enthusiasm in his voice, said, "Badge, please."

"We don't have our badges yet," Tycus replied. "We are here to get one."

"Do we have to?" Ronalyn asked. "Our agreement was to get Arrigus to Haligoth. Not in Haligoth."

"We should see what we can do for these poor people," Breara replied.

"Since when does your kind care about the fate of humans," Tycus shrugged, looking at Breara. While the Qualinesti were more tolerating of other races, than their cousins, the Silvanesti, there'd been a time not too long ago that the Qualinesti cut out all trades with the other races of Ansalon and closed down their borders to anyone who was not Qualinesti.

"Whatever is happening goes beyond kin and kind," Breara replied calmly. "These people fled from the same 'dragon-men' that we have already encountered this far west. We saw a dragon at the Grey Marsh. We had magic awakened by Habbakuk. We met a spiritual dragon named Kreesos. Whatever these people," she gestured to the plainsman in the tents all around them, "have endured - soon it will be all of us. If these people were kender, human, dwarves, elves - it would not matter. I want to learn more so that we have knowledge to be better prepared. If we can also get in Haligoth, we may be able to talk to the woman Tolliman mentioned. She may be able to give us details that she's gathered from these refugees, as well as the ships that come to Haligoth being attacked. I suspect it is all connected. Krizzen, and whatever this dragon army are, are cornering all the sheep in a corner to slaughter them quickly."

"How long is the wait for getting badges to get entrance," Tycus asked.

One of the guards casually flipped through the tome in his hands, "Thirty days." It was clear he hadn't even really looked.

Ronalyn whispered, "If we need to get in - there's undoubtedly a ... secret entrance I could find."

Feroz stepped forward, "We were sent here from the mayor of Jansburg, Mayor Tolliman. He had asked us to come see Mayor Zara, and that she had needed to see us."

The other guard looked and they exchanged glances. "Fine, then, officially business, it is. Give them badges. You can find Zara at the Riptide Tavern." The other guard opens a satchel and pulls out a badge for each. "Wear these at all times. Failure to do so will get you arrested."

Moving through Haligoth, it was just as crowded inside the port city as it was outside, people were constantly bumping into one another, squeezing between one another, and generally, uncomfortably close to one another. Tycus spotted an armor shop - which he was looking to get a shield, and thought it might also provide some breathing room. As they squeezed into the shop, Ronalyn shook his head, "I knew it. I thought I felt it. Some of my coin got took." The others quickly confirmed, they too had had some of their coin stolen.

Tycus shook his head. He looked at the sign, "The Gleamhammer" - and below it was a proud, beaming, mountain dwarf, with dark, black hair and a long, flowing beard. "What can I do you for? If you're thinking of stealin' anything in my shop, you'll be dead before you get out the door."

"I am looking for a shield," Tycus said.

"Oh," the dwarf's demeanor changed, "a real customer then! The name's Belmar Gleamhammer! And if you're looking for armor, you've come to the right shop! Have you ever heard of the Gleamhammer armor? Of course not, you're not dwarves! But if you were dwarves, you'd know the Gleamhammer name! Dwarves all across the land know the Gleamhammer name! Have you ever heard a dwarf talk about it? Of course not! You're not a dwarf! But if you were a dwarf, you would have surly heard someone talk to you about the wonders of the Gleamhammer name!"


"Yes," Tycus nodded, "very interesting. So... that shield?"

"Yes! Yes! A Gleamhammer shield! It will cost you a mere 15 steel! And let me tell you, for that price - it's quite the steal!" Belmar laughed, stroking his black beard and eyeing Tycus.

Tycus shook his head, reached into his pouch and slid the fifteen steel across the counter. "Here you go."

Belmar turned, eyed the several shields he had mounted on the wall - turned and looked Tycus up and down - before going to the back to get a ladder and pull down one of the shield he had posted on the wall - the front of the shield had a large mountain symbol with a hammer in the center and a circle with lines, like a sun in the center. He slid the shield across the counter, "The shield is sure to drive fear into goblin-kin who know to fear the Gleamhammer quality of armor! Nothing can shatter it, nothing can break it - just like the ol' Gleamhammer will!"

"Would you happen to have any rope?" Breara asked.

Belmar raised an eye brow, "I am an armorer, lass! If you're looking for rope and standard things, you're going to want to seek out Panela Birdsong. Just be aware that," Belmar paused, "well, you will see!"

Thanking Belmar, they moved through the crowded town, more aware of hiding their coin and possessions, from potential thieves and finally found the sign for "Birdsong." Quickly making their way into the store - Breara at the front - she paused as soon as she entered - the others colliding into her and pushing her forward, unaware why she'd stopped, until they heard Panela's voice.

The unmistakable sound of a female Kender's voice said, "Hello! My name is Panela Birdsong! It's always nice to meet new people!" Breara was staring at Panela's hand, which had been extended in offer of friendship. 

Panela Birdsong is a female Kender with long, flowing blond hair, beautiful sea-green eyes, and a charming smile, who has collected a number of things throughout her travels (she’s not sure why people are so careless about leaving these things all over – how was she to ever find the original owners of all these things?) Panela had ended up befriending the original shop owner who often traded with Panela when she came to Haligoth with all her interesting items she’d “acquired.” When the original shop keeper knew their time was near, they handed their shop over to Panela. Panela took great pride in taking over the shop. (When the shop closes and she goes through town she always finds more things – no surprise, all these refugees are all in a rush and leaving everything everywhere!) Panela often finds items from her customers in the store and returns them, warning, “You really should be more careful about leaving these things about. The refugees from the Estwilde have really driven the crime rate up around here! Someone’s likely to take it! Thankfully I saw you put it down and grabbed it first to make sure you got it back!”

Breara had learned, from her previous encounter with Braid Lockpick, whom they'd met on the road on the way to Vargus (see Session 02 Notes). Breara smiled, without shaking her hand, simply said, "Hello, Panela. It's very nice to meet you. We traveled with another Kender by the name of Tarli Featherfoot, but he wandered off while we were in Hearthcrest. We also met another Kender on the road to Varus named Braid Lockpick. If you happen to see either of them tell them we said hello."

Panela nodded, "We kender tend to do that. They call it Wanderlust. Where, we just pack up and go. And sometimes, even when we're with people we love more than the world, sometimes, we get distracted by something and we just wander off. We don't mean anything by it. We still love our friends. But sometimes other things require exploring!"

"I suspect the dwarf, Belmar, was about to warn us that Panela was a kender," Arrigus mused beneath his breath.

"It's all that exploring I've done," Panela continued, gesturing to all the things in her store, "that I found a lot of these things! There's spoons, knives, lanterns, ropes, staves, bedrolls, mirrors, torches, and so much more! And I keep finding more! I think the people of Haligoth really love me and my shop, because they leave things around, or drop things for me to find! I wonder if they're worried I will go out of business? Maybe that's why they keep dropping things in my store for me to find? They want me to keep selling! That's so very sweet of them," Panela was rambling on.

Breara waited for a pause in Panela's rambling and quickly asked, "That's facinating, Panela! You mentioned you had rope to sell?"

"I have rope! Do you need a walking stick?" Panela pulled out a walking stick, and suddenly Arrigus realized, she'd "picked up" his staff he'd briefly put against the wall while he was securing some of his spell components.

"Give that back!" Arrigus snapped and reached for the staff. "That's mine."

"Oh, you must have left it somewhere," Panela said, and offered the staff back. "Good thing I was there to see it. There's a lot of people who steal here in Haligoth - ever since those refugees showed up. But it's not the refugees' fault! As a matter of fact, the town is so crowded, sometimes I go out there and give them food! They're only stealing in order to try and survive! I feel so sorry for them!" Panela's voice saddened, her facial expression suddenly looked like a child, as she began to cry out loud. "Why do they have to suffer? Why are they starving? Why can't I help them all?"

Kender were often very emotional, with an intent desire to wish for the best for everyone - everyone who deserved goodness; and Panela knew these people who crowded Haligoth's streets - they were all good people who suffered horrible circumstances.

Panela searched her persons for hankerchef to blow her nose; and realized she must have misplaced it. She grabbed Ronalyn's corner coat and gave a good blow of her nose. She looked down - then looked at Ronalyn, and rubbed the elbow of her shirt against it in an effort to clean it up. She took a deep breath trying to compose herself. "Well," she finally said as she placed a rope on the table. "I can sell this rope to you for 5 steel. I will even throw in this dagger with it, because you never know when you're going to need to cut the rope."

Ronalyn looked, "That's my dagger, Panela."

"Is it? Looks like a common dagger, but I will take your word for it," she said and returned Ronalyn's dagger to him.

Breara slid the coin across the counter and took the rope.

Ketharion looks at Panela, "You said you had staves? The one behind you - that looks like a fine staff."

Panela turned, "Oh, this Oak Staff? I just came across it not too long ago! I call it the Oakenstaff. It has that hand at the top!"

Ketharion slide six steel across the table to pay for the staff.

"Let's go to the Riptide," Feroz finally muttered.

"This is where we part ways then," Arrigus shrugged. "Unless you're interested in helping me find the Irda, Aushlay, I'd like to try and rescue?"

"Do whatever you need to do in Haligoth to book passage then come find us at the Riptide. We will discuss it further," Tharrom replied, making the executive decission for the group. The others looked at him in stunned silence; he'd been eager to drop off Arrigus and be done with him and now he was willing to help the Black Robed Wizard further.

Arriving at the Riptide was difficult enough; once inside, it was obvious who Morgan Zahra was - she was sitting in the corner, a lost look in her eyes, which were clearly glazed over from the alcohol that flowed through her veins. She'd lost control of the city and was now so deeply impacted by what she'd seen and what she'd heard, that she now sought comfort at the bottom of a bottle. As a former, seasoned sailor, the many bottles in front of her, showed she was also a hardened woman who could drink quite a bit before the edge was taken off. Several refugees were trying to speak to her, plead their case of why they should be next to go on a boat and sail away.

As they waited near the bar, a tall, human woman, with black curls, and brown eyes and a crooked smile that seemed to be forged in mischief. She walked over to Ketharion and placed her hand gently on his, her fingers softly tracing the top of his hand. The motion had startled Ketharion who looked at the human woman. She chuckled softly, and despite the loud volume of the room, it seemed that Ketharion could hear only her. "The lot of you look very out of place here. There’s nothing but peasants, refugees, and crooks in here. You all look like… I would say, 'adventurers' or mercenaries. If it’s adventuring you crave, let me share something with you." She leaned in close, though she need not to - Ketharion was somehow drawn to her. She had something that made her very appealing - even for a human. "I was aboard a ship sailing north from New Ports," she said softly, "not far from Haven. Now, I don’t know if I saw what I believe I saw… but I could swear off the island of Schallsea… I saw," she seemed to pause, as if doubting Ketharion would believe what she was about to say - but he leaned in, his eyes drawn to hers, as she said, "a dragon." 

She scoffed at herself, "Sounds ridiculous, right? A blue dragon? With someone riding it no less. Absurd. There was probably something in the food I had that night." She leaned back to stand and take another drink, "I suppose you’re here to talk to her? The mayor? I will leave you to it." She quickly moved through the crowd; Ronalyn who had caught the ending of that conversation had tried to follow - but as she went through the back door - a minotaur and a burly human warrior blocked his way. Ronalyn flashed his dagger, and turned to walk back to the others, and heard the minotaur chuckle.

Waiting for nearly thirty minutes, before the last of the refugees had pled their case to the mayor - something happened.

Screams.

They sounded far away. But it was screams.

The screams grew louder. Closer. Like a tidal wave crashing towards the land.

Then a roar.

A roar that shook them all to their core.

A roar they'd heard before - south of the Grey Marsh.

A dragon.

The mayor rushed out to the front, and suddenly when she opened the door, it was as if she welcomed the screams, and roars, and the fear and death all to wash inside the Riptide tavern. With clarity she simply yelled, "Run for the boats!"

Running outside - they could see Draconians were coming from the front gate, cutting down everyone in their path. The crowded streets made it impossible for anyone to run away from their attack. Guards had no room to draw their weapons or swing them without the risk of cutting down innocent people. Then the roar of the Dragon came again - several blue dragons roared above the city and leaping from their backs, gliding on wings, were more Draconians landing in the center of the port city. Once all the Draconians had been deployed, the blue dragons circled back around and began using their breath - bolts of lightning cutting down friend and foe alike.

"Run for the boats!" the mayor shouted again.

It was a scene of chaos where more than once the group lost one another, then found one another, then lost one another again, just to reunite as the fled for the nearby ports where the docked ships were. Draconians were attacking, bolts of lightning were striking the ground, crowds of people in a state of panic were colliding into each other, falling into the water, husband and wife, mother and child, separated in the madness that devoured Haligoth in mere seconds.

Feroz had leapt on a ship, and his instincts took over. He began barking commands to untether the ship, man the sails, take the controls, row the ship and not to rely on the winds. Their ship along with other ships were all trying to evacuate at the same time, there was no order to the chaos as ships collided into one another, some sinking, some taking on massive structural damage; only to have the blue dragons strife the ships once more, hitting those still floating with lightning, killing more aboard the ship, and destroying masts and ships with their sheer power.


It'd been three days since their escape... they had managed to all be aboard the ship Feroz had taken command of... among them were thirty two other survivors, plus Arrigus had also managed to get on that ship, as well as Braid Lockpick. However, many of the survivors had been severely wounded during the attack, and the three days out to sea, a ship barely limping along, due to sun exposure and sickness. Tycus was below deck trying to do what he could for healing, and Ronalyn had been one of the wounded, who had been struck by a mast that fell and pinned him, so he had been taken below deck as he came in and out of consciousness...