The shifting tides of battle vacillated back and for so quickly that Rayne almost questioned if what she saw was reality. With the Roach/Scorpions risen by a Zombie Lord who had once been one of them and brother to Ulthok, They were once more in extremely unfavorable conditions. Rayne could have groaned if she had had the time


There was a flash of brilliant light, she shut her eyes against it and missed that the Zombie Lord was been disintegrated. The blast of pure white light filled the dark chamber and for a moment it had been like staring into the full noon sun on a clear day. Her eyes watered as she opened them. Of the Zombie Lord there was not sign. The bugs though were moving. She heard Cor pronounce his divine words and the bugs were turned.

Rayne might have felt relief but the strange creatures were still in battle. Kenji fought near her At least one of the Minions had turned her way which she had hoped it would. relieving Kenji of multiple opponents. She got in two hits one light one a bit better. But neither was a vital blow.

It was then that those two before Kenji and Rayne started to back away. Rayne instinctively went to her bow again. She took aim at the smaller figure with the glowing shield. Firing all her shots at that creature.

"Kenji, I am targeting the smaller figure, the one with the shield"

His axe crunched into the wood once more, as it had every day for the last three months. He was sure that he would be next to be cooking in the black cauldron, yet the gods saw fit to keep him alive. An elf had been taken by the Giants along with his flying horse, and it was the Pegasus that was boiling into broth now. Lothor did not much care for the flying horses, he saw them as fanciful and flashy, though begrudgingly he could not fault their practical use. He had little care that it was potentially his supper tonight, he hadn't eaten in a few days and the hard physical work of cutting wood was taking its toll on his body. He needed a good meal and was sure that the Giants would at least give him a few scraps from their evening meal.

After a few minutes dusk was beginning to come upon the mountain and one of the Giants shuffled him along back to their camp. As he walked into the camp he noticed Valene the only other survivor of the Giants, bar the unconscious elf, she gave him a quick smile and he gave a nod of recognition back to her. He had always felt awkward talking to the opposite sex and even though Valene was the only source of conversation his palms would still sweat and his heart pump faster whenever she spoke or looked in his direction.

Lothor set down his armful of wood carefully and started to chop the wood he had collected with a rusty wooden axe. Something had to be up with their captors, when Lothor began captivity the giants would venture outside of the camp often, collecting food, captives and water, but of late they seemed content to stay in their camp hungry and bored. They seemed to be on edge though, trading each other shifty and nervous glances. At first he thought it to do with the Pegasus mounted patrols which flew over the mountain, with more frequency than normal, and that could well be the case. Though if it were why did an evil chill pass up his spine at least once a day? The flying patrols were from the king and he was a good and just man not an evil one, surely.

He often thought about the giants change in behaviour, searching for a way of escaping them however, it seemed to make planning even harder. There were more of the giants in camp, even if across the bridge to the other peak, and this meant less time he could spend idle. Working harder each day left him more and more exhausted and he found himself lacking the energy to fight away sleep every night and gave into it more oft than not.

Lothors mouth began to water as the smells of Valenes cooking reached his nostrils and found himself looking forward to the Pegasus scraps even more and his stomach grumbled at the thought. One of the nearby giants heard and turned his head and Lothor quickly looked away, he had never felt such a craven as he had these past three months. He would never meet eye contact with the large creatures and flinched whenever one raised an arm or spoke towards him. Lothor just wanted to help people, ward off creatures from their village, help tend their crops and look after their elders. He could fight and he loved the thrill of it, the adrenaline surge and flexing of his muscles, but he felt naked and alone without a greatsword in his hand or steel woodaxe. The rusty old axe with a splintered handle did little to recompense his need for a weapon and armour.

Fine clothes and having a nice house and wife and eating nice food and drinking wine did little to sate Lothors appetite. He needed to save people, to help them and to care for them but right now it was he who needed rescue.

The nearest thing to rescue Lothor had now was an unconscious elf laying flat out on the cold hard ground inside the cave. He had been stripped of weapons yet still wore the full plate armour from his fall, that could always be useful. There was a few things they had now, armour, a rusty axe used better as a club and maybe a few kitchen utensils. Not much of an escape plan could be formed using these things, yet maybe the elf would have some ideas.

Lothor saw a flicker of movement in his eye and he turned to see Valene moving towards the prone elf, maybe he had awoken. He set down his axe and stretched, mimicking a cup towards a giant he walked over to where Valene was cooking and helped himself to some of the tepid water. He noticed that the elf and Valene were sat conversing and Lothor found a slither of envy going through him, he had grown quite fond of the halfling over the last months and he had been the only one Valene could talk to. Now a handsome elf falls from the sky and they seem thick as thieves. Nevertheless Lothor took the back seat of the carriage as usual and allowed them to talk, calling himself a coward once more. He went back to his axe and began to chop the wood he collected earlier that day, resolving to speak to the new captive once he had finished his days chores.

With the undead Roach/Scorpions ash, the surviving horn summoned minions retreating, and the Death Knight Alasdair fled with the Dark King’s ancient evil sword. The tide of this fight seemed to be looking once again in the party‘s favor. However as it had been such before in this fight, only to have yet another enemy or enemies appear, the question was would it remain so this time.

The surviving five party members, and a sixth brought back from death by a Goddess. Watched as the last three remaining enemy warriors retreated towards Althena. The question of who would be the first to act was answered as Rayne dropped her sword to the ground and once more brought her bow to the fore. Having used half her action changing weapons she was only able to get two arrows away, targeting these towards the summoned minions leader/healer #2. As it had with Ulthok’s earlier arrows the shield on its arm glowed blue and easily deflected the twin arrows away.

However, Ulthok, having once more fired a spread of four arrows mere seconds after Rayne fired her two, watched as all four of his arrows struck true. Stopped cold in it’s retreat the minion turned to look at Ulthok and as their eyes met the Halfing mage could see the tears, the pain and shockingly, the regret in it’s eyes. Then almost unbelievingly it fell to the floor, the impact causing it’s helmet to fly off.

Revealed before the party was the face first of a hideous fleshed stretched monster, but slowly changing to that of a young female elf child. Clear to both of the parties remaining Mages, Ulthok and Sirene, as having been magically changed from what she had once been. His

However the last two minions were still alive and dangerous and so the fight continued. Kenji free from having to fight minion #2 focused his fury once more on his old opponent #4. Having been fully healed of his wounds by Cor and still hasted his leaped forward again shouting "KIAI". His multiple attacks a whirlwind of steel powered by a renewed energy minion #4 did not stand a chance. Wounded badly by the many strikes against it and without the elf girl’s healing it too fell to the floor without returning the samurai’s attack. Twitching briefly it gave out it’s last breath and died.

Maggot found himself hobbled by the open bleeding wound in his knee. However having seen the deaths of both minions #2 and #4 was not going to allow that to stop him from wasting his Goddess given second chance. The pain intense he closed with minion #1 and once again engaged it in combat. Minion #1 knew he was the last and also the most unharmed and knowing this was set to meet his death. Moving forward to fully engage the Bard/Ranger the two exchanged swings, hits and again blood flew. However with the round over the party found Maggot still standing though bleeding with minion #1 dead at his feet.

With the death of the last minion a strange sense of quiet fell within this room that for so many minutes had rang with the sword of fighting and death. Then as if a whisper upon the wind Althena’s voice was heard, mumbling to herself.

As the party approached, Sirene having not had to cast the spell of fireball and flying the first to land by her side, for a moment the only one of the party to hear these mumblings.

“Here, yet not, I still feel it, but it’s gone, but here yet?, why do I feel it, not right, not right”
The party gathered and as Sirene lifted Althena’s weary face to look upon them all, the Fighter/Psionicist finally spoke to them.

“All this way… All the friends lost…. lies told to each of us by our king and my father… all of it was for nothing.... NOTHING!!”
Althena screamed this last. Looking each of the party in the eyes, tears spilling from her own, she spoke words that chilled them all.

“The sword Alasdair took, the one that so many died for, was a FAKE!!”........

SOMEWHERE WITHIN DROW MOUNTAIN
Valene watched as the armored Elf slowly took stock of his situation and moved to him to see to his aid. With the youngest of the Hill Giant guards grunting a warning, only to be quickly cuffed into silence by the eldest. Bringing him a cup of water she greeted him as best she could

“Easy now, don't sit up too fast. This isn't fresh, but it will help clear your throat. You've been out for quite a while. Do you happen to remember anything that happened?”
"Thank you, I am Ayreon Larenthanar, Knight of the King of Callahorn and pleased to meet you. I have a few questions of my own, but will gladly answer yours first." The elf took a short pause and cast another look at the guards. "I am afraid I do not remember much. One moment I was flying high up above the mountains on Tarenmenel", Ayreon looked sadly at the cooking form of his former mount and friend, "and then as we swooped down between two peaks something hit us very hard and I lost my consciousness. And now I find myself a captive of giants. My mission did not go quite as planned, it seems."
As the small once powerfully built Halfling and the elf glanced at the guards who had moved a slight distance away again looking to the sky Ayreon took the opportunity to ask questions of his own.

"But now do tell me, whom I have the pleasure of addressing? Am I correct in assuming the two of you are also being held against your will in this cave? Are there any more of you?”
A brief pause of introduction
“My mission is of utmost importunes. I must get out of here as soon as possible and I will need your assistance. To begin I need to determine three things: Do the giants have some kind of daily rhythm and how many of them are there? Have you seen any weapons I could use around? Is the bridge the only way in our out of here"
Taking a breath to fill his words empty lungs he continued.

"But first I need to know… Will you help me escape? If you do, I would be happy to take you with me.....URGHHHH"
His words stopped in a chocking sound as the Elf Paladin felt the same evil as he had felt before diving into the Giants net.... A Shadow Wraith was close!!.........

Lothor could not help an in adverted flash of jealousy to cross his face as Valene and the new Elf prisoner conversed. For the last three months it had been just the two of them and he had to admit that he had acquired more then passing feelings for the small female halfling. However it was then that he too felt the same wash of cold as he had before and following the Giants turned heads caught a glimpse of something dark with wings floating upon the sky seemingly maybe to be coming closer. For the first time in his life Lothor felt afraid......

(DM OOC: Ok there you have my post that I promised for next Sunday, yes I know it‘s early but since you all posted I figured why wait. Now as for the next post as it’s a short week if you all, or a majority, get your posts in by this Sunday I’ll post again then. If not I’ll post the following Sunday the 22nd. So read, enjoy, and do what ya do. )

Valene bit her lip when she learned the name of the beautiful creature she had been forced to reduce to dinner for savage creatures. “I am sorry about that...” her head drooped though her habitual smile only slightly diminished. “Oh, pardon my rudeness,” her voice trailed off as she glanced over at the younger giant. “I haven't been in the most polite of company as of late, my name is Valene Beestinger.”

Her eyes widened at his questions, had he no discretion? Their common wasn't the greatest but she didn't want to know what would happen if one of them understood what he was asking. She glanced over at Lothor, offering a bleak smile. “Can you stoke the fire please?” The captives were never there long enough for her to really become attached to, but she had to admit she had a general fondness for the awkward man. He always seemed so funnily uncertain when speaking to her, but he was kind and diligent and that was really all she could hope for these days.

When she turned back to the elf she sighed softly, praying he was an intelligent sort and would catch on to the way she was getting ready to pass on information. “As I said my name is Valene, my unlucky companion is Lothor. There are no others... they tend to end up in the stewpot. I'll tell you the same advice I tell every other newcomer. Find a skill that is useful to them if you want to live. For example I am clever with my cooking knives and can make any sort of meat edible. Lothor is keen with a wood cutting ax, which keeps them from having to gather and cut it themselves, though all he has is a rusty ax right now. They do not allow us any armaments, but useful things can be scavenged.” She was reluctant to answer his other questions, not sure how to word them. “You mustn't try to escape, there are thirteen fully grown giants that will rip your arms off and make you watch as I'm forced to cook them...” She shuddered, apparently in memory of something similar. “The bridge is the only way off this cliff, and it leads to another camp of giants. There are four children giants that usually end up watching over us.”

She dragged her slight body to her feet, . “I have to tend to the meal.” She said, not getting a step away before he started his next question and was cut off by his choking. “What's wrong?” Concern clouded her face and she knelt back beside him, putting her hand gently on his armored shoulder.

Maggot stood over the decaying corps and gave out an ear shattering “ROASH!” The old man had not given out that battle cry in many a decades. The battle made him feel more alive than he had felt in a long time.

He could not remember the last time such a rush had come over him in such a manner. His sword did not feel as heavy in his hand as it used to. Even though the room air was still he could feel the slight changes in the air as others around him attempted to catch breath after the battle. He could feel the cuts on his body but the sting of them did not bring pain as much as they brought life to the old man. He smiled, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Every scent was clear and vivid to him as it was in the years of his wanderings. He held up his sword skyward and whispered a simple “Thank you,” and quiet fell upon the room…

The silence was broken by Althena’s voice... “The sword Alasdair took, the one that so many died for, was a FAKE!!”…

Maggot got a strange glint in his eye and began to laugh and dance around, well as best as the crazy old man could with an open cut across one knee.

‘How divine it would be,’
‘How happy our dead who fell.’
‘Oh the joy to see,’
‘The anger and pain in hell.’

Several eyes fell upon Maggot as he stopped his dance and noticed the tears on Althena’s face. “Why do you cry foolish girl?”

She pointed to the empty sword case and took in a breath as to speak.

Maggot, with only a sword and naked to the world as the day of his birth held up a hand and cleared his throat,
“You cry over spilt milk but do not see the kitten lapping it up.
You shiver in the cold of winter and do not see the beauty of the snow.”

He turned and looked toward KenJi and Rayne “KenJi, form a far off land even you will find a reason to smile when you hear this. Think of the face of Alasdair, the fallen when he hands the sword over to his new and quite unforgiving master.”

Maggot turns and looks toward Cor, The Most Holy and Ulthok, Master of the Shadows “Ulthok to be you and use your great skills to be in the shadows at that moment.” In a booming voice and looking skyward, “Cor call out to Valhalla!” He then looked at Cor and held up a knowing finger, “For our own fallen will dance in the Halls of Valhalla when the news of that reaches them.”

He then turns and looks back toward Althena and Sirene, “Good Lady Sirene comfort the Lady Althena if she wishes it. But I say to the Lady Althena to stand and rejoice in our victory. For we are no further from what we seek than the enemy. I would say we are even closer than they are. For we are here in victory and still have the will to fight. While they are in the pits of hell realizing their defeat and probably in chains by now. So I say to all…”

‘How divine it would be,’
‘How happy our dead who fell.’
‘Oh the joy to see,’
‘The anger and pain in hell.’

And with that the old man gave a most courtly bow.

The determined charge of the mage had proved successful as all four of his arrows make their mark. The blue shielded enemy turned its head to stare back at the mage in the eye as if in disbelief. Ulthok started to grin as the body dropped to the floor. Still moving to try to get to Althena the mage saw the helmet bounce away from the minions revealing a hideous face. As the life or evil passed out of the creature the face changed to that of a young female elf child. As Ulthok passed the child he felt no pity, but knew he had served this one as he had his brother and set to poor thing free from its torment.

As he raced to reach the Valar he saw Sirene land and gather Althena in her arms to comfort. Straining to hear he could barely make out the words, “Here, yet not, I still feel it, but it’s gone, but here yet?, why do I feel it, not right, not right………….All this way… All the friends lost…. lies told to each of us by our king and my father… all of it was for nothing.... NOTHING!! Then she screamed, “The sword Alasdair took, the one that so many died for, was a FAKE!!”........
“A fake!! “Ulthok echoed back. “Well that’s really going to serve Alisdair well when he presents it to his Master.” Then Ulthok nearly roared with laughter.

Ulthok listened as Maggot approach and expounded as only the bard could. He was always so good with colorful words. The Halfling waited and when the Bard was finished he turned to the Valar.

“My Lady, then your sword is still here, we have not failed quite yet.” He then turned to the stand that had so temptingly held the fake for all to see. “The case is more than it appears, the sword may still be there.” Raising his hand he commands out to the stand “Open” as he cast a spell of “Knock” to out any locks or magic that may be confining the object of their quest.

Lothor was about to turn and carry on to chop the wood he had collected that day more than willing to take out his frustration on the chopping block. As he took a step towards the logs and his captive standing over it Valene called to him.

“Can you stoke the fire please.”

Lothor nodded to her and dutifully strode over to where the fire was dying, underneath the cauldron. As he strode towards the fire he realised there was no wood nearby, and the fire needed more than stoking it needed a few more logs. His face flushed red and he hoped Valene wasn't looking as he turned around, he could just imagine the japes they would be making behind his back. With as much dignity as he could muster, he strode over to the newly cut woodpile and picked up an armful. He strode back to the cauldron shooting a quick glance at the halfling and elf, hoping they were not laughing.

On his walk back to the fire a cold chill passed over him, the same as he had been experiencing over the last few days. In fact it was ever since the Elf fell out of the sky. This got Lothor wondering was this Elf a friend or more dangerous than their captives.

Lothor got the fire roaring again and doing his best to hide his embarrassment he strode towards the newcomer, his new found courage being propelled by his recent revelation. His mind raced as he approached Valene and the newcomer what could he say? How would he put it?

Words tumbled out of his mouth interrupting the conversation. “Elf, you, why are you here?, I mean not to be rude, but... the chills they, they started when you came.”

He looked at Valene after and flushed once more.

With the battle over, at least for the moment, Cor listens to Maggot's song. "Crazier than a loon he may be but the lad has a point. Alasdair sprung from hiding a bit too soon and now he believes he has teh prize he sought. Until he hands it over to his master and find it to be a fake, which in itself should be a wee bit interesting, we have the advantage." Cor looked at the others, "Finding the real sword has been and remains our main charge. Our comrades who fell this day knew the risk and stepped forward anyway. Tomorrow it might be us who walk the halls of Valhalla. But not today. Nay, this day we press on. Let us search this room for the real sword and then move quickly onward. Alasdair knows where we are now so I do not fancy being here if he comes looking for us. Any who need healing say so now while we search."

The fighting might be over but there was much that still needed doing. Wounds to be healed and bandaged. and a Stranger to be confronted. One who spoke their names as if he knew them.

Crossing to the naked man Rayne stops a few feet short. “ I would care for your wound but tell me who you are that names us and seems to know things about us that you should not." Rayne will use a cure light wounds on the man’s knee. Rayne then uses the last of her healing spells and first aid supplies to aid the wounded.

When finished, Rayne crosses over to the Lady Althena. "Your father has anticipated many things in his efforts to keep the sword safe. After going through all of these tests one might assume that what lay on that pedestal in glass was what they thought. Bless you father that he thought ahead and planned for such a possibility.

"Rayne lass, do ya nay recognise our demented companion? True, saying he looks a wee bit differant would be an understatement but it is indeed Maggot." Looking at Maggot, Cor added "Might be best if ye could explain the snazzy new outfit and visage lad."

Sirène cradled Althena’s head in her hands; human tears pooling around slender, elven fingers. The words of Sirène’s spell had died upon her lips, her desire to revenge long since spent. It had died the moment she had seen that her enemies had been led by a mere child – an Elven child – and the thirst for vengeance had been washed away completely by Althena’s bitter tears. Through choked sobs, the human explained her loss, and spoke of lies and the futility of their quest.

“Vá, uis anwa,” Sirène found herself whispering in response, “Not for nothing. It cannot be for nothing. The World is on the brink of ruin. Already the Darkness returns, and we are all that stands between it and the Light; bulwarks against the Dark.”

“But it is difficult, I know, to bear so much loss,” Sirène continued, her eyes momentarily lingering on the sad nearby sight of Cynil’s shrivelled corpse. “There are tears shed in E’Loth Lo’rian every new moon for all that my people once were, and all that we have lost. We remember cities now in ruin and forests murdered, yet still we sing to the stars and hope for renewal. And we sing, because we still have hope in a better future. Do you understand?”

Sirène brushed away the last of Althena’s tears, and raised her to her feet. “Have faith that the Goddess loves you, if nothing else,” Sirène mouthed, laying a kiss upon Althena’s cheek.

[OOC: Sirène will cast Cure Serious Wounds on Althena with the kiss]

Each of her companions added their own words in response to Althena’s distress, ranging from words of dour practicality to words intended to raise the human woman’s spirits. But the half-lame, naked jig and rhyme-less stanzas from Maggot, re-kindled a portion of the anger Sirène had earlier felt.

‘Is he mad?’ the elven enchantress questioned silently as she craned her neck to look at the crazed half-elf, causing her long hair to slip from the half-ponytail at the crown of her head and spill across her face. She listened coldly as Rayne questioned the madman, and then Cor tried to defend him.

“I don’t care even if he is the same man as the one we lost earlier, and not another imposter as Rayne suggests,” Sirène responded to Cor, before her eyes narrowed and she continued in Elven. “Nalyë indolóra? Tyaryë Orqu vára, lorda na’martafione. Caelile yalasselle ten’agar tel’Quessir, nan’lenwa peredhil.”*
With one last reproachful shake of her head at Maggot, Sirène turned to her other, more sane, companions. “I don’t think we can continue without resting. You may not feel it yet, but the spell I cast earlier speeding your movements causes great fatigue when it expires. And, we need to heal, recuperate our spent magic, and gather what supplies we can from those who fell today.”



* “Are you mad? You act like an Orc drunk on feywine. Have some dignity for the Elven blood that courses through your veins, however diluted.”

OOC: Sirène will spend her last two healing spells on any that need it (only a Cure Light and Cure Moderate left though). She will then scan the area with Detect Magic. She will look initially for any illusions etc. that may be hiding the sword, and will then identify any magic items littered about. After that, she will gather any unclaimed magic item in the area identified by the spell, loot anything else of value, and cast her single ‘Identify’ spell on anything that looks particularly nifty. Finally, she’ll dress the corpses of Cynil, Conall and Haila (or what remains of them), in order for them to be transported to the surface.

With the all of the surviving party members now aware that the sword taken by Alasdair was a fake the talk turned to two questions.
Where was the real sword and was this younger version of Maggot real or another imposter in the same vane as Alasdair.

Thinking perhaps that the sword was hidden somehow within the glass case Ulthok cast the spell of Knock upon it, to no effect. As the party stood trying to decide what to do next, the newly young Maggot took a somewhat different tact. Beginning to sing and dance a jig of sorts, clearly taking pleasure in the sword being a fake and the fate of Alasdair when it was revealed as such to his new master.

‘How divine it would be,’
‘How happy our dead who fell.’
‘Oh the joy to see,’
‘The anger and pain in hell.’
It was here that first Rayne, then Sirene, both being no stranger to deception having lived through Cor’s turning evil and the truth of Alasdair. Demanded answers of Maggot as to his true nature and Cor, having resumed his role of party leader, gave directions. However as Rayne confronted the much younger Ranger/Bard, the Knight Cleric stopped to defend him.

“I would care for your wound but tell me who you are that names us and seems to know things about us that you should not”
“Rayne lass, do ya nay recognize our demented companion? True, saying he looks a wee bit different would be an understatement but it is indeed Maggot." Looking at Maggot, Cor added "Might be best if ye could explain the snazzy new outfit and visage lad."
Only to find himself on the receiving end of Sirene‘s anger, she too unconvinced Maggot was truly Maggot.

“I don’t care even if he is the same man as the one we lost earlier, and not another imposter as Rayne suggests,”
Sirène responded to Cor, her eyes then narrowed and she moved her gaze to Maggot, continuing in Elvin.

“Nalyë indolóra? Tyaryë Orqu vára, lorda na’martafione. Caelile yalasselle ten’agar tel’Quessir, nan’lenwa peredhil.”* (*“Are you mad? You act like an Orc drunk on feywine. Have some dignity for the Elvin blood that courses through your veins, however diluted.”)
Not waiting for an answer the Elf Mage/Druid turned once more to her ability to Detect Magic and was only mildly surprised when the whole room lit up in a soft glow. As she surveyed the rooms interior she noticed that one area seemed more subdued, the same area where Ulthok and Cor had fought the Thief/Mage’s undead brother.

While the confrontation between Cor, Maggot, Sirene, and Rayne was taking place, Althena was slowly returning to her full senses. The more she came back to herself the more she realized somehow feeling of the room felt wrong. Helped by the healing kiss of Sirene and even though she had seen Alasdair leave with the fake sword, she yet felt it’s presence. Perhaps, she thought to herself, what she felt was only the residual effect of the magic laid upon the fake to make it seem real. However if that was the case why did the feeling of it, though much weaker, yet linger.

However with no new leads for the moment as to the whereabouts of the sword and as the harsh words and suspicion slowly cooled remaining undercover the worries and needs of the party turned to more important ends. As they had done so many times it had become routine all remaining spells of healing were cast until all were fully healed once more, With Sirene’s suggestion to gather the remains of Conall and Cynil and place them on the floor below beside Haila, the party spilt into two groups.

While Sirene, Ulthok, Kenji and Rayne gathered the two bodies and their gear, and carried them downstairs to properly care for them. Cor, a fully dressed Maggot, and Althena began to set up camp. Items of use recovered from each body were all placed in Conall’s Bag of Holding, the weapons wrapped safely so as not to puncture it’s interior. All that is except for Haila’s body and items on the floor below went without incident. However as they approached the fallen human Fighter/Mage, as if from out of thin air a hissing creature appeared. Claws and teeth extended and ready for a fight!

The gatherers moved to defend themselves only to realize that this new enemy was in reality a familiar separated by death from it’s master or in the case of the Elvin cat before them, vice versa. Sirene and Ulthok mages themselves, though each without a familiar of their own, knew what Haila’s death meant for Niamedris. If the Elvin cat did not find or accept a new master soon, it would shortly die.

All these things taking place as the three still above set a camp and prepared to rest and recover. So many questions to be answered with no answers to be had and more then one choice to be made.

SOMEWHERE WITHIN DROW MOUNTAIN
As the wave of evil having once more moved away, the Shadow Wraith on the move, Ayreon himself slowly recovering, the Halfling lady beside him looking very concerned over a stranger. However he found that he also faced a new foe, a perhaps jealous one, the human Lothor.

“Elf, you, why are you here?, I mean not to be rude, but... the chills they, they started when you came.”
The Elf Paladin could feel the tension in the young man, his fear and uncertainty of what the cold chills were. Yet though there was the jealousy of his talking to the Halfling female, there was no real hostility towards him.....Yet. However somewhat annoyed and frustrated on his present situation Ayreon responded in kind

“Human my mission is no concern of yours! But l will tell you, it is more important then you.”
Turning his head once more to Valene he again in a whisper posed the same question as he had before Lothor’s interruption

“Valene I ask you once more if possible, will you help me escape?”.....
(DM OOC: Ok here’s my post for the week and it’s a day early to boot! Since everyone posted but Raven due to him being down with a nasty flu. I started working on the post tonight and it just seemed to write itself. So here it is and the next post will be next Sunday the 22nd. Also main party spellcasters now is the time to get me your new spell lists for memorized/prayed for spells. Thanks & Enjoy)

Valene reached out and gently put her hand on Lothor's forearm. “Lothor,” she caught his eyes with her, locking them with an unspoken plea, not finishing her sentence for fear of an undistracted hill giant overhearing her.

She turned her attention back on the elf when he snapped at the human and shook her head. “Anger's certainly not going to help,” her voice was still light and pleasant but with just a hint of frustrated edge to it. “I've been here for about year, seen countless prisoners tortured and eaten.” She fixed each of them in her gaze in turn, a year worth of desperation forced into those dark eyes. They grew suspiciously liquid when she looked back at the human, but she didn't allow them to form full tears. She wrapped her fingers as far around Lothor's forearm as possible and looked up at his face, smiling weakly, certainly not her ever persistent grin. “Lothor, you're able bodied. This elf hasn't been here long enough to grow as weak as I have. This may be my only chance to see freedom again. I don't want the last act in my life to be cooking someone who I may have called a... friend in a different circumstance,” her voice cracked slightly on the word friend and she had to swallow to gain her composure.

She nodded slightly, taking a deep breath and exhaling with sudden certainty. “I will not be dying a slave. A pity I have no poisons to aid in our venture... Ayreon, I will either die fighting for freedom by your side or share a meal with you and Lothor, should he decide to aid me...us, at the next tavern we come across when we get out of here.” With that she turned and headed back to the spit to tend to the meal again, her cheery visage settling firmly back into place.

Cor thought about the room, something was not right. "Ulthok, the corner where what once was your brother appeared, did you check it well? Perhaps there is something not right about that corner."

The look of hope and expectation faded from Ulthok’s face as it became evident the stand wasn’t the hiding place of the real sword. “Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained..... As old Uncle Trapspring would say “There is nothing quite as dull as bright idea that doesn’t shine.”

The Halfling then turned to survey the scene and drew a deep sigh at the sight of the losses the party suffered. Three of the party were lost and two others had been turned against them. Now the Elven Enchantress seemed quite stressed from the ordeal and was challenging the naked warrior that had lead the charge to save Althena and perhaps was the pivot that turned the battle to their favor. From the moment the strange naked man opened his mouth and uttered the foolery so familiar now, it was clear that Maggot had returned. Ulthok just shrugged as he knew not to get in the way of a woman’s ire.

As the mage walked to help tend the fallen he heard Cor, "Ulthok, the corner where what once was your brother appeared, did you check it well? Perhaps there is something not right about that corner."

Pausing the mage looked back the Cleric, “ You betcha there is something not right over there. Divot was doing his best to drag me into a secret room there to have me for lunch.” Ulthok watch the cleric’s eyes and knew where his next search would be located. Well at least he’ll be walking in on his own.