The search of the Goblin hovel and village proved more a caution and less a find for clues or treasure. A few bags of coins and two crude wands were all they turned up. Ulthok slipped the finds into his pouch of holding for use later.

The mage lead the party toward the door; it was clear they needed to leave this place and hurry on before more trouble caught up with them. They discussed locking the small green creatures using an Orc axe wedged into the door jamb.

A wail of Goblin voices stopped them in their tracks. Turning they saw the horror of small Goblins swarming over the Druid and ripping her apart; Lothor stood trying to fend off a wave of green menace.

Aliya screamed to see her sister butchered and loosed a wrath of flame as she charged back. Weaver and Lady Jessica followed close behind. Ulthok was now behind the party and releasing area effect spell could easily catch his friends by mistake.

As Weaver charged he called out, ‘We must get to the others and form a circle! Do not let rage take over, for if we fight alone they will overwhelm us individually with sheer numbers! Move to the Lady Alyia then together we will push to Lothor! We will then fight in a circle around our fallen!’
Swinging out to Weavers left the Halfling Mage pulled his Wand of Frost; charging along at Weaver's side he shouts to the vermin into own tongue, “You …..were…..warned!” From the tip of the wand shot out an expanding cone of crystalline cold that sliced through the charging mass like a giant frozen sword halting the advancing horde.

As the Goblins froze Ulthok joined Weaver in the protective circle ready to slice and another path through the howling cur.

(Added Edit)


When the battle had ended they turned to the task of dealing with their downed companion. Remembering his own brother's fate the Halfling Mage volunteered, "I can turn her to ash so that she can't be turn to the evil."

With her feet touching the ground again, Siréne joined the others as they made ready to leave the goblin village behind. Vile though the goblins were, none had made a move against them as they searched they village. Perhaps they would come to regret letting the creatures live, but there had already been enough killing done this day. Her heart was dark with it.

The enchantress turned to spare the village one last look before leaving the room. Amara, the sun haired druid, knelt before the goblin mass as a small goblin child approached her. Cold cerulean eyes narrowed as Siréne watched. They might be letting the creatures live, but that didn't make them any less dangerous. What was the fool girl doing?
Turning, she took a few steps toward Amara to call her away from the goblins. The words didn't have time to leave her lips. In the blink of an eye the tension in the room snapped and all exploded into chaos. As Amara died, the scent of her blood through the goblins into a frenzy. With their vast numbers it wouldn't take them long to overwhelm any in the room. There was little choice but to slay the creatures. It would seem that the Lady of Retribution called for more blood. Siréne would oblige her.

Reaching into one of her magical pockets, the copper skinned elf removed a thin steel rod the length of her forearm and gripped it firmly at its center. With a savage scream she lifted the wand above her head releasing a trickle of deadly power. A brilliant blue bolt of lightning flashed through the goblin ranks to be joined by a deafening clap of thunder. With that, Siréne leaped into the air once again to search out weak points in the goblin ranks.

Elven blood had been spilled this day and the sight of it brought her a pain that she felt at the core of her being. She had barely known the girl and now she never would. Even so, perhaps when this was all over she would be able to offer Amara's spirit some peace.

((OOC: Using Wand of Lightning to call a forked lightning bolt. Assuming this functions like the spell, the bolt will begin in the goblin horde to the left so she can avoid hitting those encircled by the goblins. She is flying again.))

Alyia felt numb, the static haze blurred her senses. part of her new the scene in front of her, the party members gathered around her... and Amara. she looked down at the bloody mess of chunks an pieces that was left of her half sister.

wracking sobs consumed Alyia as through the tears she fell to her knees besides the bloody mess and groping tried to find something of Amara. her hand closed around a little finger, wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt Alyia fumbling with numb hands pulled a strip off of her tunic hem and bound the finger shakily she pulled a bottle out of her spell pouch nearly spilling the contents. frustration began to show an Alyia stared to cuss in frustration, the tears began to fall again. finally getting the wrapping in to the bottle and sealing it she tucked it into a pocket inside her vest lining against her heart.

"I failed to protect myself, i failed to protect you..."

Alyia looked down at her burned and bloodied hands, and with cold eyes she steadied herself.

"Ulthok, you wished to cremate Amara. do so but leave nothing left. melt the stone beneath her her, leave no trace."

‘Ulthok, you wished to cremate Amara. Do so but leave nothing left. Melt the stone beneath her, leave no trace.’ Alyia spoke to Ulthok.

‘Hold on!’ Weaver stepped forward, ‘Leave nothing, of her remains perhaps, but nothing? An unmarked grave in such a dark place as this. I say leave some kind of marker so that all who enter here know that one so brave came to these evil walls and desecrated such a place of evil with pure good. Leave a marker so that the evil queen will know what happen in this room so that she may stone up the door and none will enter.’ Weave smiled a bit, ‘Oh what a thorn in her side, to know her home was violated by one so pure.’ Weave place his hands on Alyia shoulders and spoke softly to her, ‘If the Gods choose to not return your dear Amara, do you wish to leave nothing to mark her time here?’ Weaver paused for a moment, ‘If you do not want to do this allow me the chance to?’

After searching the room and finding some minor rewards, the party was set to leave. With a majority of the party, Cor began to walk towards the door. A shrill scream erupted from behind them, causing Cor to spin around. He saw the horde of goblins on top of where Amara once was. For a split second, the cold feeling of panic set in. Cor ran towards Amara.

"NO! AMARA! NO!" Aliya screamed. Aliya and Lothor bothended up fighting the horde of goblins on their own. Charging into the fray, Cor leapt in with his axe, enraged by the goblins. This is how they were repaid for sparing them?

It was Weaver who shouted orders: "We must get to the others and form a circle! Do not let rage take over, for if we fight alone they will overwhelm us individually with sheer numbers! Move to the Lady Alyia then together we will push to Lothor! We will then fight in a circle around our fallen!"

Weaver was right; if they fought as individuals, they could take more casualties. They could not afford any more casualties right now. "Good idea Weaver!" Cor called over the battle. "Push forward to the others!" As Cor got closer he saw how bad things had become: Amara was a shredded mess on the ground. With renewed motivation, Cor kept fighting to form the circle, his axe slashing forward.

Cor looked back at the fallen body of Amara. It was definitely a sobering experience losing a comrade; Cor never found it any easier to accept their deaths. Hearing the conversation about what to do next, Cor added softly, "I could preform last rites for her, if you wish Aliya."

(OOC Cor will fight to form the circle with the others; after the fight if Aliya accepts, he will preform last rites.)

Alyia spoke the words. "leave no trace." her heart black with sorrow, her fists clenched in cold rage.

"hold on!" Weaver stepped forward. He as he spoke his words softened Alyia's rage, yet not her sorrow. openly crying her teeth clenched in shame, she tried to answer him only managing a stunted nod of agreement.
his hands softly touched her shoulders and Alyia felt as if her insides shattered, she fell against him sobbing like a child.

as a soldier Alyia had seen death before, brothers in arms, friends, lords. but this was her sister. her sister who had watched over her. who she in this dark place she had failed, and was now gone. she had been inches away from her, yet powerless to stop it.

"Amara... sister.." Alyia sobbed.

cor asked softly if he could preform last rights.
Alyia gulped back a sob and wiped her nose which was dripping.

"aye, She deserves rights in this dark place an let us mark this place also." her voice raw and quavering
"master cor, i know not the gods. Amara.." Alyia's voice broke. she bit her lip steeling herself. "She was a druid i'm not sure which god's or goddesses to which she prayed. you and the clerics talk among yourselves. what you surmise will suffice. i would give her proper barrel else were at another time, something better suited to her. but yes rights should preformed, her should should be put to rest before we continue into this hellish hall."

Alyia looked at Weaver and his now tear stained front. "i'm sorry master weaver for such an uncouth-ed display of anguish." Alyia wiped her eyes in frustration the tears welling again unbid-ding. "such a great and sudden loss will burden my heart for a long while. but in this place i do not wish to dwell. much to add to my sadness, i, we must leave this place and continue on wards.
(after the funeral rights have been preformed)

As you said before weaver. "may we be an ever growing presence in this evil queens side."
Alyia looked at the faces of those around her.
"let us hope to let her curse our names as we curse hers in this moment of sorrow." Alyia spoke anew setting her sorrow aside in place of this new conviction.

Siréne circled in the air before flying to join her gathered companions. With wand still in hand she surveyed the scene before her, seeking a new mass of goblins to strike.

Floating just at the center of their circle, she could over hear talk of Amara's last rites. Eyes widening, the elven priestess shook her head in near disbelief. In time she had grown to trust and even cherish her companions, but what did they know of the sacred elven rites of life and death? How could those who faded with the passing of mere decades understand what death meant to those that could live millennia? It was good of them to honor Amara's passing, but the duty of sending her spirit onto eternity belonged to Rayne or herself and none other.

"Let us talk of eternity later, for there is much to discuss." The enchantress spoke cooly, wrapping herself in an impenetrable serenity. With a slow, deliberate motion she pointed the steel wand toward the sea of goblins. In a louder, more determined voice she continued, "But for now, we give Amara her retribution. Let her death be the thorn that kills the bear!"

Valene was not shocked that the goblins attacked, she was however horrified by the way they chose to do it.

The blood boiled in her veins and she shook with wrath. The voices of her companions blurred in her mind, the grief and anger mixing to make only the demand for justice.

"Every one of you will feel the pain of her death a thousandfold!" She cried out, fishing the small hound figurine from her pocket.

Her eyes glinted dangerously as she called forth the monstrous (in appearance, not size obviously) canine, demanding that he rend the goblins in two. "Devour them, exterminate every last one like the vicious little rats they are!" She sent him forward with a yell, a sense of sick satisfaction trilling through her stomach as she watched him attack the tiny monsters.

She drew her sword, her anger far from spent. Her tolerance for travesty was quickly reaching its end. Nearly losing the man she loved followed by the carnage that took their teammate had snapped her into action.

For the party all had seemed so calm, yes, they were in a large room with 300+ Goblins, but they only consisted of females and children. Having decided on a plan to bar the door on the way out leaving the Goblins alive but trapped, all that was left was to leave. However once again as fate would have it that proved costly as one of the ugly children crawled before Amara and ripped out her throat!

With that, whatever feeling among the party to spare the Goblin mothers, wives and children was over as Aliya screamed her anguish, her first un-thought action a fireball. Exploding to the front of her sisters body the hut and most of the goblin children died as the mothers and wives rushed forward. To Aliya�s right a wave of Frost joined her fire. To her left a bolt of lighting slashed through the female Goblin ranks. With the arrival of Lothor, Weaver, Cor, and the Lady Jessica followed by Valene, Rayne, Barreel and an Oynx dog. A circle was quickly formed and battle turned to slaughter as the Goblin females and their younglings died.

With a few last swings by the party, a quiet stillness fell over the room broken only by the heavy breathing of the party. Then a loud crunch was heard coming from Amara�s body. As the members of the party turned to look, they were shocked to find that the last living Goblin was the same small child that had torn out the Elf Druid�s throat initially. It sat there before her ravaged body feasting on her thigh as if nothing was wrong. Before any of the party could move a voice reached them speaking in common.

�Mine!�
With no hesitation at all Valene�s Oynx Dog slowly moved to stand above the ugly child and looked down upon it. As the child hissed at the Dog, its Onyx head moved, jaws snapping shut over the creatures snarling face and removed its head from its body. A minute later it chewed once then spit out the remains and moved back to the party to lie quietly at Valene�s side.

With the battle over and the Goblin horde finally wiped out the talk turned to Amara�s body and how to save it for raising or resurrection. With her body in pieces raising her was clearly not an option as she would be worse alive then dead, crippled and in a consent world of pain. Resurrection was the only option however, Rayne, Valene and Cor were lacking in level to do so. The only choice, as gruesome as it sounded, was to take a piece of the Elf Druid and find a higher-level priest to under take the task. Of course, that was if the party lived long enough for one of them to do so.

However as the party, joined now by Sirene and Ulthok, continued to stand in the circle created in battle and talked about what to do with her remains. A number of different feelings quickly came to the surface. Last rites offered from a Dwarf, a demand to respect Elvin heritage and custom on death. To a sister�s love, and talk of cremation for the moment nothing was decided the party discussion of what to do next continued............

(DM OOC: Ok here is my post for this week. I hope you like how I spilt combat and discussion on Amara. I know it�s not bestseller work but I think it will do.
Next, post maybe next week or in two depending on you Ladies and Gents.)

As the Elvis kin and those of the Gods talked about what was the best way to honor the fallen hero, Weaver goes about removing any thing goblin from the area around the remains. He will form a circle around the chosen spot. So that all who enter will see the place of respect and all the vanquished enemy that fell.

He will then dip into his pack and fetch a small wooden flute. It is nothing special to any others but to Weaver it meant a great deal. It was one of his oldest flutes. It is somewhat elfish but to a true elf it would seem a bit crude. He turns to the Lady Alyia, ‘If you do not mind I would like to leave this with her. If she does not play, I am sure she can find one who does in the great halls and wondrous fields she surly walks in now.’ With the lady Alyia’s approval he will place the flute down and return to his pack.

As Weaver is putting his pack away he can be heard whispering to himself as if he were to another, ‘I know what I left behind… No, I have heard you play and please do not!’ Weaver shook his head, ‘If you play that flute I am sure the Gods will toss you out of the Great Hall or command you never to pick up a flute again… You are not as good as you think.’ With that Weave’s things were packed up again.

It was a charnel house. Scorched and broken bodies littered the room and the nauseating scent of death began to fill the air. In but a few moments an entire village, every last life, had been wiped out. A seductive laughter passed through her mind, a sure sign that the Lady of Retribution was pleased. Yet she would grow hungry again, and rivers of blood would flow.

Siréne buried the regret and guilt as she picked her way through the goblin dead. The days when she had the luxury to distain violence were past. She was a weapon and she brought death. Anguished faces of goblin children looked up at her with accusing dead eyes, but she paid them no head. The vile beasts had killed Amara, and for that there would be no forgiveness. She had barely known the sun haired elf, but still she had been one of them through and through. A child-like innocence and pacifist curiosity had emanated from the girl, and for one such as her to die in such a manner was unspeakable.

Before her the remains of a body lay broken ripped and strewn about. They were barely recognizable as the person they once had been. Siréne shook her head, hissing in anger and sorrow. Elves were not supposed to die. Her people lived for centuries and beyond. They were forever. Even when they departed this mortal realm it was not death that claimed them, but the faery realm calling them home. This was not how life was supposed to end. This was an abomination.

Rage began to froth and boil within her as she stood before Amara's remains. Mixing with sorrow the emotions threatened to overwhelm her, to take her over completely. There would be no Siréne, there would be only pain.

Do not cry. A familiar voice flowed out from her memories, echoing through her mind. It is not your place to mourn. A priestess does not have the luxury of tears, a priestess is calm.
Memories of her life in E'Loth'Lorian flooded through her mind. She had once thought her grandmother's demand for serenity cruel, and that the impenetrable calm the ancient priestess wrapped herself in was a sign of a cold heart. But Mnemosyne had been right all along. To be the voice of the Queen of Heaven was to serve the People. The mantle of calm let the priestess do what must be done, it let her look up to the heavens and walk forward. A priestess did not feel her own pain, for it was her charge to heal the pain of others. Here in this forsaken place, Siréne alone was the voice of the Great Goddess, and she would do what must be done.

A great wave of serenity flooded over the enchantress, washing away rage and pain. She stood there in a sea of calm to rival even Mnemosyne. Turning, Siréne let her cerulean gaze fall on Aliya. The child had seen a horror beyond all others, and it had left a pain from which she would never fully recover. If she could not heal that pain, then at least she could offer her some peace.

"Aliya," Siréne spoke in cool tones as she offered her hand to the young warrior. "Come. I will send Aliya's spirit home. When the sacred fires consume her body, her spirit will rise up and fly into eternity. She will know peace. Let me do this thing. Let us honor her life and her elven soul."

The enchantress let her gaze linger before continuing on in a voice that all could hear,"If you wish to keep something to remember Amara, take it now, for the fires will leave nothing but ash."

The battle was done; Lady Jessica Voltaire stood there for a moment, her body shaking from a combination of the emotion and the effort of swinging her sword. She looked around at all the bodies; so many dead. Yes they had been evil and dangerous but it still seemed senseless to her.

Glancing around she saw all of the remaining of the party were still standing and she sighed her relief. Giving her sword a flick to fling off the blood, she reversed is grip and kneeling she planted the tip of the blade on the floor as she gripped the hilt in both hands and bowed her head. She prayed to Athena, thanking her Goddess for bringing the rest of her companions through the battle alive.

Rising she sheathed her sword and looking around she spotted Alyia, walking over to her she paused and tried to think of something appropriate to say. Guilt held her tongue for a few seconds before she spoke.

"I'm ..." her voice barely above a whisper, "I'm ... Sorry!" Was all she could manage before she turned and walked quickly out of the room and into the hallway as talk turned to the sacred rites of the elves in handling the dead.

Once out in the hall, she put a hand on the wall and leaned against it and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She blamed herself for death of Amara; if she hadn't pushed for them to simply restrain the female and young Goblins then perhaps Amara would still be alive. No, there was no perhaps about it; she was sure that they would have just killed all of the Goblins and went on their way. She silently prayed that somehow she could make amends for this transgression which had cost the lives of one of their members.

Sighing once more, she turned her attention to dealing with the remains of the Dead Giant Orcs in the hallway and searching the hallway and any other areas they had cleared. She would not go back into the room where Amara had died; she would leave that to the others that chose to do so.

Cor watched and listened to the to the discussion in front of him; Sirene wanted to preform the necessary elvin rituals on Amara. As long as Aliya was fine with that, Cor had no problems with it. Aliya had the right to choose how she wanted Amara remembered.

Cor watched as Lady Jessica walked up to Aliya. She said something, in hardly a whisper, that Cor was unable to hear. Lady Jessica left the room quickly, and Cor knew she believed Amara's death was completely her fault. Being one of the party's leaders, Cor had to do what he could to keep it together. And Sirene seemed to know exactly what she was doing. "Excuse me for a moment, call me if you need me," Cor said to the remaining people in the room. If they needed him, he knew they were more than willing to call him, or just walk up and speak to him.

Cor left the room behind Lady Jessica. She radiated guilt. Cor walked up beside her, and murmured, " It's not your fault you know. I made the same decision as you did."

With the battle scene quieted the Elven Enchantress joined the group gathered around Amara’s remains. A presents flowed over her as addressed the fallen’s sister, "Aliya,……..Come. I will send Amara's spirit home. When the sacred fires consume her body, her spirit will rise up and fly into eternity. She will know peace. Let me do this thing. Let us honor her life and her elven soul."

The enchantress let her gaze linger before continuing on in a voice that all could hear,"If you wish to keep something to remember Amara, take it now, for the fires will leave nothing but ash."
Ulthok could see that Sirene would deal with the situation in the proper manner and he could not add anything. “With all due respect, please gather her belonging, perhaps Rayne could help. There will be items that may aid us later and perhaps items her family may wish. The anti-magic filled gem should not be left behind. “ The mage turned and started to move toward the doors. “I will check the hall, if there are others who wish join me your protection will be appreciated,” glancing toward Valene and Lothor.

Ulthok carefully ventured into the hall, the Lady Jessica had followed and so had Cor. The Paladin paused and leaned against the wall, guilt and regret could be seen in her eyes. The Knights Cleric drew near and said, " It's not your fault you know. I made the same decision as you did."
Stepping up Ulthok spoke,“Listen to him My Lady, he may grumble at times but now he speaks true. None of the party could have guessed at Amara's not understanding of how dangerous the little goblins are and therefore could have prevented the event. You have lived by your good works and if the High Knight's Cleric feels you are without guilt then you are without guilt...... So get over your doubt, pray for strength and guidance.” Turning to Cor he spoke, “In order to fulfill her mission, protect her allies and save the good people of Trilogy she needs the best equipment available.....Do you not think it is time for her and accept her fate to carry the sword that has protected this party for so long?” Ulthok nodded toward the sack where Cor carried the weapon left behind when Conall joined his ancestors.

Ulthok left the two and went to the Orc bodied where he retrieved his arrows. After search for possible helpful items he headed to doors of the second room. When others had joined him they cautiously enter the room searching for useful items and clues to finding the Dragon Queen.

In a place far away where time holds no sway, a half-elf looks out over a field of green. Large, soft white clouds drift slowing across a blue sky. The air is filled with the sound of songbirds and the smell of lavender, for it is in bloom now. He smiles, ‘Oh brother how I do not envy you.’ The half-elf was in woodsman clothing but a gods symbol hung around his neck.

Movement from behind caught his attention. He turned and spoke without thought, ‘You are beautiful.’

It was then a Halfling sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, ‘I look as I did yesterday.’

‘No, our traveling companion has arrived,’ and the half-elf bowed low. ‘Welcome, my brother has told me of your coming.’ The halfling jumped up and brushed the grass from his clothing and ran his fingers through his hair to make himself more presentable, he then smiled and also bowed low.

The companion was a young she elf. Long flowing green gown covered her and a soft glow went with her. ‘I do not understand,’ she looked down at her feet then up to her hands. ‘Where is this place?’

‘This is a place that is not there nor is it here. You will walk with us for a while. After sometime here among the fields and the wood we will take you to the place of your forefathers.’ The half-elf smiled and pointed out toward the west. ‘There you will see those you have not in a long time. You will meet those who you only know about in song.’

The Halfling smiled, ‘It will be a home coming of dancing and feasting.’ He rubbed his belly and wiggled his toes. The three laughed as if they had known one another from childhood.

‘Let us go to the stream down there and take our ease for a while. I wish to was my feet in the water.’ The lady smiled. The Halfling then took her hand and the two headed off toward the stream.
While the half-elf fallowed a short distance behind, ‘Worry no more brother, we will see her safely to the home of her forefathers.’

Back in a cold stone room surrounded by death Weaver stood back as the Ladies Aliye, a grieving sister took some comfort, how ever little from her to friends. The lady Sirene a Druid and the lady Rayne a Cleric. All having ties to the Elf blood, they did what they could to honor the fallen. As the ladies finished and moved off to join the others Weaver fallowed a short distance behind, ‘I fear not brother, I will do what I may to see these back safely to their homes.’