Her name was Sirène Talà Melete and she was quite the happy Elf as she made her way along the Southern road from Ala-Zah to the town of Gygax. Not only had she helped defend the Merchants caravan she was traveling with from attack by a large group of horse born thieves, she had also saved the life of the caravan’s leader. In the aftermath she had been awarded by the caravan leader, very grateful to be alive after taking 6 arrows, a medium warhorse, 2 magic weapons, 8 items of magic, including a set of Plate armor and a large shield and $2,500 gold pieces. The items, and extra horse, as she had no present use for them she planned to sell once she and the caravan reached Gygax.

It was just nearing evening, the shadow of nearby Drow Mountain growing with each passing moment, that a burst of light appeared off to the caravan‘s left side. The explosion of light almost as bright as if a fallen star was there and gone in less then a minute.
Sirene was, as she would later say, fated, to be on that side at that time and was as such closet to where the light had appeared. Knowing instinctively it to be some type of magic, with her Scimitar drawn, was the first to arrive at the scene.

Before her was the body of a large man at first appearing dead, but once off her horse and kneeling by his side, she found him, though unconscious, to be taking shallow breath‘s.
Dressed only in the remains of charred armor and clutching a bastard sword in hand he was for the most part naked, his skin in most places burned to blackened bone, his face all but gone, his skull hairless ash covered bone, clearly on the verge of death. As members of the now stopped caravan gathered round she laid upon him the first of many healing spells...................

(DM OCC: Ok Nimu & Aryn there's your intro I hope it helps get you 2 started. Of course Nimu you do need to post first as Aryn is out cold for the moment .)

Kenji smiled slightly as his sword cut through the little boulder creatures; now here was fighting to be had and he was enjoying it. And why should he not? It was what he did and did well. He took pleasure in many things; Painting, gardening, etc., but fighting was his profession and he enjoyed it.

As several opponents fell before his blades he whirled and found himself surrounded by 20 more; a grin of delight graced his lips as he shouted a battle cry “SHO-NI-JO” … (Loosely translated, “Are you ready to die.” or “Time to die.”)

He kicked in his sandals of speed and charged the enemies nearest him, placing more distance to the ones opposite to give him precious seconds. Activating his ring of quick action, he attacked again with both blades whirling in a dance of death about him; daring any to approach him lest they die.

The first signs of twilight overtaking the day were apparent as Sirène Talà Melete road along the southern road with a caravan of merchants, peddlers, and craftsmen. She was exotic and darker than most elves, having curly black hair and copper skin. That she was beautiful was evident - her skin was smooth and her delicate features seemed molded from copper. Yet her ageless face did not draw carnal desires, rather she remained aloof, an enigmatic creature of the old world. Almond shaped and incandescent, her blue green eyes stared out at the world studying its every detail. She wore a white robe woven of gossamer threads, the robe fit her closely and split at her hips falling just below her knees. Woolen breeches knit from indigo dyed threads covered her legs and were neatly tucked into dark grey boots. A cloak of the many shades of indigo draped over her shoulders and the elf had pulled up the hood covering all but a few dark tresses. The black mare she rode moved with a still grace that allowed her to reflect on things other than riding. She had not been with this caravan long, certainly not long enough for any to know she was anything more than a blade wielding spell thrower - that much she had been unable to hide.

It had not been long since street rogues attacked the caravan, not more than a day or two. Instinct had held her then and Sirène had let the magicks of the unseen world flow from her. The horse born thieves were ready for the caravan guardsman but they had not anticipated turning on themselves, nor were they ready to face the lightnings that flashed from the sky into them. It was not a long battle, but there had been casualties nonetheless. There were few healers among the caravan and she had stretched her healing abilities to their limits in the aftermath of the fight. The caravan leader had gifted her with some items of value after she had healed him with the touch of the Great Goddess. Sirène was now the owner of pieces of armor, weapons, and the like - most of which she had every intention of selling when they all reached Gygax. She had little use for armor and the tools of war, but the gold they would bring would certainly prove useful.

Sirène rode on in silence recounting days past and enjoying the beauty that was the fading day. She had always loved twilight and looked forward to watching the coming dusk even now. The veil between the worlds seemed thinnest then and the old faery blood that flowed through her veins danced in anticipation as the shadows grew longer and longer. It was then that the copper skinned elf saw a flash of light in the distance. It did not take an oracle to know that the flash was magic born. In a fluid motion Sirène drew the long curved blade at her side and rode forward. Not all who practiced the craft had taken the oaths to the Goddess as she had, most in fact served their own ends and their great works of power often left destruction in their wake. Such a flash was surely the mark of powerful magicks and she would not let them be without at least some investigation. What she found was unexpected.

A man's body lay on the earth. Remnants of broken armor covered his charred body only the great sword he held tightly in hand was intact. Moving without hesitation Sirène sheathed her scimitar and dismounted. She made her way quickly not bothering to pull up her cowled hood when it fell back. Long dark curls unbound spilled out to fall just above her navel and were soon brushed aside as she reached the man. He appeared dead, but even still the elf knelt beside him and placed a ringed hand just above his mouth and nose. Faint though it was the warmth of breath touched her hand. He was not dead, though likely he would be soon if something was not done. How he had survived even to now was beyond her knowledge.

Sirène looked up into the heavens opening herself to the power of the Queen of Heaven. Only the greatest of healing would rouse this man from the brink of death. The elf lifted a hand to her mouth. She bore on her thumb a coiled snake carved from moonstone whose head and tail were entwined round a crescent moon. Snake and moon were sacred to the Great Goddess and all who served the Lady bore such a ring. Sirène kissed the ring and whispered a prayer softly.

Arwen uma ten amin. Manka ta na'a irmalle uma fallana sina edan.
The elvish words left her lips and she breathed the prayer softly on the ring. Lowering her hand Sirène touched the unconscious man's forehead. She felt the power of the Goddess vibrate around her, slowly at first but growing steady until the air around her seemed to tremor. Opening herself the elf let the divine power flow through her and into the man.

(OOC: Casts Heal)

With his wall in place, Cor set about the task of reducing teh enemy numbers. He swung both axes in deadly archs before him; it was almost impossible to miss so many around him. "Now would be a great time to find the combination lass!" he chuckled as he said for he knew she was trying. He knew the odds were not in their favor. These creatures were similar to kobolds or goblins; not much one on one but capable of swarming anything with numbers. He did hid best to let the axes flow and conserve his strength for teh long hual ahead.

With walls in place and the center of the room closed off to the majority of the boulder creatures, it was still a dangerous place to be. If a count were to be made it would show that there were still roughly 60 of the creatures in the fight.
On top of that with three failures already in seeking the right combination of colors, how long would it take to get it right. Walls even magical ones would not last forever...

Cynil, the first to act this round unhindered by any foe, gazed upon the colors before her, her mind ablaze with ways to beat this trap. Somehow coming up with the thought of opposites she quickly placed the black in place of white and the green in place of red...to once again find her choice had no effect, the pink peg yet again refusing to budge....

The next two members of the party to act were Rayne and Kenji, each having activated an item to enhance their speed of action. With ones attacks doubled and the other’s movement increased, the two were a whirlwind of action. In the course of just this first round they accounted for no less then 25 of the 60 creatures yet among them. However in doing so Kenji did take a minor hit upon his left leg, and though slightly bleeding, did not stop him in any way. Come the next round both would still be granted such ability.....

The next to act in this round was the flying Halfling Ulthok, with a good 11 rounds of such remaining, the Thief/Mage was for the moment quite safe. Seeing that his lighting bolts would do more harm then good he thought quickly. With so many foes and so little friends he thought to even up the numbers and as such canted and cast his spell of Monster Summoning II. At the start of the next round his summoned ‘allies’ would appear to join him in attacking the boulder creatures below him.

His attention now to his next action he thought of a Cone of Cold however from his present height he at once knew that should he cast such a spell it would expand to include his friends. Being unable to see beyond the walls as both did reach the rooms ceiling and the Thorns were all too thick, the Halfling knew once again something else would need to be called for......

Cor for the moment found himself free to let his axes take their toll upon the creatures before him, having no one in the party wounded enough to need his help. Almost as if in some form of erythematic dance the dwarf slew any of the boulder creatures before him. The round over he was surprised to learn he had killed 10 of the creatures with out a hit being taken in return. As happy as a combat cleric could be, so was he.......

As she had before, so she did again, Althena continued to attack with her 2 daggers carving up 6 more of the little foes before her. As if sensing her ability and perhaps noticing for the first time their diminishing numbers the boulder creatures began to fall back, only to finally realize that there was no where for them to go. As the walls cast to keep the more numerous out, so to did they cut off retreat for the smaller number within.

Gathering together as a united force the remaining 19 creatures charged forward a renewed sense of killing the party within them. Having no way to retreat the only thing they could do was attack and so they did, however they had not counted upon a female Fighter/Mage by the name of Haila Torran. Having waited to gain a sense of the battles flow, she had the advantage of perfect timing on her side.

Her hands free and a spell on her lips she did what Ulthok could not and cast a Cone of Cold, With the creatures for the most part congested into a single mass she watched as the Cone of Cold spread out and engulfed them all, leaving not a one mobile and more then likely all of them frozen to death.

With that one spell Haila had effectively finished the fight within the walls of the parties temporary redoubt, not even the Paladin Conall, still by Cynil’s side was given a foe to fight this round. With a grin upon his face, his helmet he had removed, he gave a nod to the Fighter/Mage in respect, once again had she the youngest of the party, ended a battle in their favor........

As a semi-silence fell upon the room the sounds of banging could be heard from the Wall of Iron, the sounds of sawing from the Wall of Thorns, and the sounds of muffled screaming from the creatures webbed.
It was only a matter of time till something did give.........


THE SOUTHERN ALA-ZAH ROAD
Sirène knew she needed to move fast as the man lying before her could die at any moment. Though he yet breathed, the trained healer could see by the nature of his wounds he did not have long to live. Putting aside all her other healing type abilities she dug deep inside her to bring up her most powerful one and without any hesitation did cast it.

As the people around her stood silent all watched as he slowly began to fully heal. First the blackened bone began to once again turn white, next fresh skin returned to cover the burned flesh that had been there before. His skull began to knit and blond hair did appear, a full mane of it, though grey in some spots. His nose, eyes, and mouth returned forming a strongly handsome face. Within but a few short moments what had been a nearly dead charred corpse was once again a 6’1 strongly built and well endowed human. With embarrassed chuckles and gasps of admiration this fact was all too apparent to the ladies standing around and also that of Sirène.

The warrior though saved from death did yet sleep and the ground was no where to let him lie. Without hesitation the caverns leader took it upon himself and with two of his guards did pick up and place the yet sleeping man within the closet covered wagon. Gently dressed in a robe, his broken armor removed, bastard sword laid by his side he was covered with a cloth blanket and left to rest. With water having been carefully given as to not drown him all they could do now was wait for this mysterious warrior to awake....

(DM OOC: Ok WOW good posting everyone, that’s what I’ve been wanting to see for quite some time now. As a DM it makes the game more fun for me when all the players post as you all did this time. Ok for now the combat is over so your out of Melee rounds time wise and once again can do more then one action per round. However be aware those walls like the Web spell will not last forver.
Ok next post like tonight next Saturday so get cracking on that code )

Cor looked around the room. For the moment all was secure; but for how long. "Quickly, kill those in the web and bash apart the frozen ones. No sense if taking chances, esp with the others trying to find a way in." He knew the web and thorns would not last long. His iron wall should stand for several hours at least and provide them some protection. "Keep trying those colors lass. Some combination has to work." He yook a moment to look at Kenji's leg. "Tis but a scratch but I can bandage it if ya want." He waited expecting the stoic warrior to refuse treatment but he felt he should at least offer it.

Turning to his old freind Connel he called out, "So lad, have ya taken ta using a wee mage as a shield now? Your sword seems exceptionally unbloodied. Tis a shame when the clerics have ta do the fighting while the paladins rest." His laugh that follwed left no doubt that this was nothing more than a jest at his friends expense.

It seems logic was not the key to the puzzle. Rayne's first try with bronze and green had been well reasoned by the Ranger/Cleric. Cynil's choice of red and white, was also reasoned, as was Green and black. When reason fails, random selection was next, but it had to be done systematically despite her sense of growing need as the battle raged about her.

Cynil gathers all the pegs in her hands and quick as she can starts going through the combinations, she leaves the black in and removes the white, then goes through plugging in the other colors, one at a time.

"Yell out if you need another wall of thorns!"

(Given the fact she is not moving, can Cynil exchange one peg for another more than once in a round.)

Conall stood wielding his sword and shield while sending his gaze everywhere, looking for some kind of way to seal off the entrance of the boulder creatures. However, there seemed to be no way of stopping them short of killing them all, or solving this puzzle... which Cynil was working on behind him. And as long as he stood vigilant guarding her, none of them would get by to harm her.

"Cynil... I know you can do it. You have my faith, as you always have had. Do not fear any of these strange, evil creatures plaguing you. I will stand guard and protect you from them."

Haila had done quite the good job of dispatching the foes before her... but there would be a time when she was unable to stop every single one of them. And when that time came, Conall would be ready. The gods would see him through the day. He would not die here. He and Cynil still had their life to spend together.

[OOC: Some other time… likely in the past…]

Lying on the stone table, the man’s chest rose and fell with each ragged breath he took. Sweat poured off his naked body from the sheer heat of the stone beneath him, from the gods-forsaken heat of the entire room. Heavy manacles attached to thick chains bound the man’s legs and arms, stretching him out over the table.

And yet, he slept. It was a fitful resting of the body, and of no comfort to the spirit, as the man’s dreams haunted him with images of the torture he had endured: the boils that had covered his entire body, with the insects feasting on his open flesh; his entrails tugged out and fed to his captors’ hounds; his dismembered arm strangling him; the sight of his captors supping on his heart while he gasped for air.

And then… sleep. Always sleep, while his body was knit back together.

The man suddenly gasped for air, coming alive again. He looked around the room, looking for his captors -- for his enemy – but they were not to be seen. He tested his bonds and, finding them tight, closed his eyes again to wait… to wait for the inevitable.

How long… he wondered. How long has it been? A thousand days? Ten thousand days? The man had long ago forgotten his past… his identity… even his name. Long ago… he had fought against his captors, looking to taunt them into ending his existence. He had begged and pleaded and sobbed. He had prayed and cried out to all the gods known to him. Long ago…

Now… now, he only waited… waited for the inevitable to come to pass… waited to endure. And while he still wept and screamed as each night he died, he no longer begged or pleaded or prayed. Only… endured.

The man suddenly felt the manacles around his arms and feet release. “Get up,” whispered an unfamiliar voice in his ear.

It is a trick, the man thought, A cruel game to tease out any remaining hope left in me. But I have spent all my hope. I will not play into their trick.
“Get up, human,” the voice said more insistently. The man felt the creature’s breath across his face, like a cool breeze which carried a long forgotten scent... flowers! It not the familiar smell of his captors -- that sickly sweet, hot breath of death. No, this creature’s breath brought forth refreshing, a renewing of the spirit the man had not known for ages.

The man felt a hand on his chest, felt his aching muscles rejuvenating, felt his lungs strengthening even in the midst of the oppressive heat of the room. He opened his eyes wide as he took in his first breath of clean air.

The man squinted at first, adjusting to the brilliance before him. There before him stood a creature who looked like a man clothed in glorious light. The man would later recall that the creature’s skin was like chiseled bronze and broad, white, feathered wings came out of its back.

With urgent compassion, the creature regarded the man on the table, “The gods of light have taken pity on you, human.”

The man still laid motionless on the table, awed by the glory in his presence. But the creature continued to urge him to move. “Quickly now! I have no doubt they know of my presence. We must leave now if there is to be any hope at all.” And with that said, the creature grabbed the man by the wrist and hauled him up.

“I don’t understand,” stammered the man.

“Do not fear,” replied the creature, as it began fitting the man with its own armor. “It will soon be revealed.” Drawing out the bastard sword at its side, it handed the blade to the man. “Do you still remember how to use this?”

The man swung the blade before him, noting its lightness and balance. While he had not held a sword for what seemed a thousand lifetimes, its familiarity came back quickly to the man. “Yes,” he said simply.

“Good,” replied the creature. Drawing out the great sword on his back, he gave the man a grim smile. “Let us leave this pit then. Follow me.”

The man followed the creature out of the room and into an enormous hall. The height and width and breadth of the room seemed immeasurable and unending. Dominating the center of the room, there loomed a massive throne at least twenty feet tall and likely half as wide. All around the throne there lay piles of gold and silver coins, gems and jewels of all sorts – piles stacked taller than the man himself. In the distance the sound of combat could be heard – steel clashing, the bark of his captors’ hounds, and the roar of his captors.

“Come on,” called out the creature. “We haven’t much time.”

The man continued to follow the creature across the hall, the light cast from the creature’s body leading them through the deep darkness. “Almost there,” encouraged the creature.

A sudden whoosh from above caused the creature to turn and draw the man close to it. A horrid scratching and scraping noise came from in front of them as the floor trembled. Behind them, another creature landed with a fierce screeching, “My pet, my pet,” came the taunting voice from in front them. “Why would you try to leave my loving embrace?”

“You have never known love, hag!” the angelic creature proclaimed to the darkness.

“Faerir! Is that you?” came the taunting voice again, the voice of a woman, the voice of his captor. “How can you say that!” She sneered, “You’ve never even given me a try.”

The pawing of the floor behind them caused the man and the angelic creature to turn. Another voice, louder and far more threatening came out of the darkness. “You dare to enter my domain, Faerir?” the voice roared. The sound of hounds growled all around at the edge of the darkness. “Your Lady has sent you on a suicidal mission. And for what? This… man?” Both the voices laughed scornfully.

“Courage, human!” whispered the angelic creature to the man. “There is a door behind us. That is your way out. Wait for the right moment… then run and don’t look back.”

“I cannot see it!” cried the man.

“Do not fear,” soothed the angelic creature. “All shall soon be revealed.”

To the darkness, the angelic creature called out, “I have come bearing a message from my Lady, doglord.”

“Tell us, Faerir!” growled the menacing voice. “What greetings does your Mistress bear?”

“Like your hounds,” called out the angelic creature, “your leash, and the leash of your mistress, has been too long. And I have been sent to shorten it!” With that declaration, the angelic creature unfolded and stretched out its wings, allowing its full glory to shine forth, piercing the darkness and revealing the enemy.

Before them stood a dragon the size of which the man had never seen before. Its fangs were like blackened blades and its talons dug deep into the floor, splitting the stones beneath it. With a snort, gouts of flame shot forth, scorching the ground before it.

All around them, the captors’ hounds shrunk back at the brilliance of the angelic creature, hiding their eyes beneath their forepaws. They whined and howled in terror, turned back by the glory that stood before them.

Behind them, hovering a few feet from the floor, was a woman, winged and with multiple arms. She wielded both a barbed scourge and a twisted blade the length of the man himself. Nude, she was both beautiful and hideous to look upon.

And behind her was a door… opened to what appeared to be an endless blue which reminded the man of something that hung on the edge of his mind.

Both the woman and the dragon laughed again. The woman called out, “Faerir! Darling! I was hoping for something a little better than th…”

But Faerir did not let the woman finish her sentence. Stretching forth his hand towards her, he released a bolt of pure light, striking the woman in the face. The man watched as the woman screeched in pain, dropping her massive sword to claw at her face. The dragon, seeing his mistress felled, roared and reared his head in vengeance.

“Now!” commanded Faerir to the man. “Go quickly!” And it turned its attention at once to the dragon.

The man ran towards the door, towards the blue, the distance being a solid sixty feet away still. He could feel the heat behind him as the dragon spewed forth a stream of fire at Faerir. “You shall perish this day, Faerir! I shall snuff you out for all of time!”

As the man came closer to the door, he saw the she-devil before him stand up again. Looking upon her face, he found that the creature’s eyes had been melted away by Faerir’s bolt of light. Gashes from her own talons severely disfigured her face as she tried to look around with sightless eyes. “I shall find you my pet. I shall sniff you out, I shall, I shall,” she jeered. “Or have you forgotten who you are so quickly? You are mine! Mine!”

Bolstered by Faerir’s courage and sacrifice, and seeing his escape so close, the man let out a roar, “By the grace of the Lady, I shall be FREE!”

The bastard sword in his hand flash to brilliant light as the man rushed at the she-devil. Bringing the blade down with all his might and fury, he slashed through the woman’s right leg at the knee, sending her to the ground and out of the way of the door. The endless blue drew him in and he could feel the same cool breeze as he had felt when he first met Faerir. He embraced the blue and tasted… freedom…

But it was only for a moment. Just when the man thought he would free fall into the endless blue, he felt a burning agony wrap around his leg and drag him back into the darkness of the hall. “Not so fast, my pet,” sneered the sightless woman. She pulled the man up, hanging him upside down. The burning and tearing of his skin by the scourge caused him to cry out in deep pain. Dangling him in front of her sightless eyes, she taunted him, “Oh, my pretty little pet, this pain is nothing compare to the punishment you shall receive.”

But the woman was too prideful to see her own doom. As she jerked and jiggled the man on her scourge like a fish on a hook, she brought him far to close to herself. “I wish you could see me now,” said the man through gritted teeth.

“And why is that, my pet.”

“So you could see my smile.” And with that, the man used the force of the swing, to drive his sword straight through the woman’s head. The unholy flesh of the woman bubbled and melted around the glow of the man’s holy blade, pulsing for a moment before finally exploding in glorious light.

The man dropped to the ground and worked at slashing through the scourge still wrapped around his leg. In the distance, he heard the bellow of the dragon, “No!”

Batting Faerir away with fury, the dragon came bearing down on the man. The man scrambled to his feet, and ran for the door, sword in hand. Leaping out the door, he embraced the endless blue once again as he felt the stream of dragonflame engulf his body, melting away his skin.

And while his voice screamed in agony, his mind had only one thoughtAt least, this shall be the end.
[OOC: Present time…]

The man suddenly gasped for air, and sat straight up. His eyes were alert, frightened, and lost, looking around at the people around him, looking for something familiar. But there was nothing, nothing familiar in the faces around him. His hand brushed against the cold steel beside him. My sword… he thought, though that was as far as the memory went.

Looking further out at his surrounding, he noted the blue just outside the wagon he was in. Standing cautiously, the man picked up his sword and made his way outside, pushing away pleas from unfamiliar voices for him to stay seated.

“The endless blue,” he murmured as he looked to the sky. Again, that was as far as the memory went.

Turning to those around him, the man spoke, blade in front, “Be you friends or foes?”

[OOC: Nimu, feel free to take a few liberties here in our RP… i.e. You might say that you are friends and then assume that the man will go on to listen to your tale of how you found and healed him, etc, etc…]

Hear Conall's words of encouragement took o moment for thought and then an idea cam to her, first she would reverse the place of those colored pegs that had been tried.

That way she could conpletely disreaged the two color combinations. Since the black and green were the last ones in she would switch the two places of them and if that did not open the door then she would reverse the red and white and then the bronze and green that Rayne had first used.

With the cessation of battle, Rayne moves back to the oillar where Cynil works quickly. Rayne figures that two of them doing this would be faster than just one.

"You take them out I will put them in. Of nothing I will pull them out while you are ready with the next two pegs to try."

She watches as Cynil switched the set she had in.

"Good idea, Cynil. I should have though of that myself."

Seeing the others laboring over teh puzzle or guarding those so engaged, Cor took it upon himself to heed his own advice. Beginning with those creatures webbed he set about sending them to meet whatever god they called their own. He took no pleasure in the task but neither did he feel remorse for doing it. His eyes were those of one who had seen death many times before, expected to see it again and was certain that in the end Death would one day escort the elder cleric to Odin's temple.

The power of the Great Goddess flowed through Sirène into the dying man before her. Beneath her hand flesh began to knit itself back together and she could feel the rhythms of life beating stronger within him. With the magick flowing through her the elf felt one with all that was. The sun that warmed her skin, each blade of grass, the winds that flowed around her, the ground, the sky - all were of her and she was of them. And just as the oneness came so it went leaving Sirène with a hollowness inside. It would soon fade but such was the price of wielding the power of the Lady. To know that power was to also know the absence of it.

The elf returned her focus to the man before her. He remained unconscious, but now with his body healed she could see that he was a honey haired human. She brushed a few grey hairs from his face pushing them back into his golden mane. He had the strong features that human women swooned over, and judging from the muffled giggling behind her that was already starting. Sirène smirked, that would at least provide enough amusement to get them through the rest of their journey.

The elf moved slowly to her feet and motioned to several of the men standing around, "I have done all I can for him, but he will need rest to recover. Healing is taxing on the body. Take him to a wagon. I will care for him as needed."

The men moved quickly and she smiled her thanks. Whoever this man was his life was in the hands of the Goddess now. With barely been a spark of life in him, he had been nearly beyond her power to heal, and now even with body healed there was risk. Such intense healing taxed the body, and such injuries surely would mark the mind. Sirène sighed as she watched the caravan men carry the stranger off to a wagon. Only time would tell how he fared.

The caravan moved along for sometime before Sirène was able to check on the golden haired man. She found many of the young women crowded in the wagon he had been left in, and motioned them aside as she took a seat next to his bed. Color had returned to the man's skin and his breathing was growing easier. The elf nodded to herself, he was on a path to recovery.

Sirène left him in the wagon to continue sleeping, that would do more for him now than anything she could do. She returned to her horse and the black mare nuzzled her nose into the elf's hand. Giving her mount a friendly pat she allowed herself a few moments of respite. It had been a hard road travelled since she left the elven lands and she was no closer to finding what she sought. In truth she did not know what she sought, only that she must find answers. Would revelations be found in the next village, or would she travel the land for decades seeking what could never be found? Sirène sighed as she stroked the mare's nose, only time would tell.

A sudden commotion rose from the wagon behind her and Sirène turned to see the golden haired man standing just outside the wagon holding a sword out in front of him. His eyes stared out in front of him confused, but unafraid.

He raised the sword higher and spoke, "Be you friends or foes?"

Sirène watched the scene quietly for a moment, studying him with sparkling blue-green eyes. He stood unsure of himself, and yet completely unafraid. Giving the horse one last pat she stepped forward meeting his gaze.

"In truth we know one another not at all, but pointing swords at people is a rather futile way of making friends, is it not? And in your condition I would advise against swordplay. We found you with barely a spark of life, and it is only by the grace of the Lady that I was able to heal you. This is no battlefield, you have time to regain your strength. Why not go back and rest?"

And so it had come to pass
Like peasents under glass
A party unsure of what peg, where
A silence, at first unnoticed, fell across the air.
With the matter of the Boulder Creatures for the moment held at bay it was best to take no chances.

Cor quickly wasted no time in issuing his next set of commands…

"Quickly, kill those in the web and bash apart the frozen ones. No sense in taking chances, esp with the others trying to find a way in."

However seeing as how the others were busy or standing guard he did the deed himself putting all held or frozen creatures to death. Afterwards he went to Kenji to look upon the Samurai’s leg but found only a minor wound, of which the Samurai ,as the Dwarf Knight Cleric had thought, had already bandaged himself. With nothing more to do then stand guard thus it was what he did do.

Kenji had quickly as Cor had found placed a strap of bandage around and covering the wound, the whole time his eyes continued to scan the Walls surrounding them. With nothing moving and only the sound of banging and sawing to be heard he stood ready as ever to fight.

Rayne and Cynil were focused on their task, having decided to work together to make peg choices quicker both did so without mishap. However reversing the black and green, then reversing the red and white had as the other choices no effect, the pink peg yet held firm.
Time enough it was hoped by both to try two more changes this next turn.

Conall having given encouragenment to his love stood ready to defend her and the party at all costs. Cor having just arrived at the paladin’s side spoke to him in jest.

“So lad, have ya taken ta using a wee mage as a shield now? Your sword seems exceptionally unbloodied. Tis a shame when the clerics have ta do the fighting while the paladins rest." .

Turning to his old friend and mentor he was about to speak when he was suddenly raked by pain, his ability of Detect Evil overwhelming him. A sound of pain escaping his lips as he fell to his knee’s Conall once again willed himself to recover though this time with only medium success, the pain in his head a consent throbbing.
Something very, very strong in the dark forces, hardened with malice and hate had somehow entered the area beyond the walls.

As Cor knealt to help his friend and the others turned to see the Paladin upon his knees, it was Althena who first noticed the quiet.

“Something’s wrong, listen!!”


But no sound was there to be heard, of banging on the walls, of sawing upon the mass of thorns, nor of the chattering language of the Boulder creatures As if all the party had gone deaf, a deathly silence had fallen over all.


THE SOUTHERN ALA-ZAH ROAD
With the awakening of the mysterious stranger and his attempt to mayhap find escape, a sort of standoff had arisen. His sword in hand and nought but thin night clothes upon him he stood facing a pretty impressive female Elf. Her beauty for a moment a distraction, he felt the tug of something upon him yet knew not what it was.

In response the Elf spoke to him in a tone meant to sooth and relax, yet he was unsure of who was who and where he was. Still holding the sword at the ready, knowing if nothing else that he at least did know how to use it, he watched as others gathered around but none did come too close. The next move perhaps up to him?

(DM OOC: OK there you have this weeks post so run with it peoples . Ok next post next Sunday as not to cheat you out of an extra day.)

Cor watched Connel fall to his knees clutching his head. They had journeyed together long enough for the elder knight-cleric to know that such was caused by evil; and a great evil indeed it must be to have dropped his friend. He heard a call to listen and not a sound came to his ear. In temples of Odin such was expected several times daily as the priests turned to prayer. Such were good and relaxing moments. However, at the present location is did not bode well. "Be ready! Something wicked this way comes!" Cor prepared to meet whatever was coming and did infact take advantage of the silence to offer a prayer to his god. "Keep trying those pegs lass, you are our only hope of getting out of here alive and I fear time is running short."