Deliver us from Egil

Whilst nursing their injuries and recounting the more and more exaggerated stories of the sea monster they’d killed, the Party find themselves in a temporary calm.
Those that knew Egil, feel a deeper understanding of their stoic ex-kinsman.
They all want to be gone from this freezing, barren place; Egil’s homeland, but they are forced to wait until they hear more news about the sea monsters driving away all the herring.
Ghanash however finds himself fascinated by the hardship these humans endure and yet complain little, if at all. The Humans he had known up until this point, even the ‘heroic’ ones seem to whine about most everything.
Dokan wastes no time in discovering the local vendor of magical trinkets. He is invited by the grey and hunched Roald to come by his shoppe the next morning.
The local Lord is also entertaining one of the neighboring nobles: Vidar. A large and bearded blond man, dressed entirely in black. He’s well into his middle-years but he still stands tall and broad.
Rodha-an is content to drink and eat the free food supplied by the grateful locals. He does win the confidence of the Innkeeper though. Linnea likes a man with a good appetite, and it seems to her that the Shaman could do with putting on a few pounds.
Indigo is absent a lot of the time. He has discovered the library of the town leaders and spends his free time buried in the ancient tomes.
Vogir however seems to literarily have disappeared. No-one’s seen him in days.

Egil's Lullaby

(With Apologies to Eugene Field)

The sea is dark and the waves crest white,

As the hern-king speeds from the deeps to night

And this is the song the hern-king sings

As over his children his cloak he flings

“Swim, swim, little ones, swim;

be mindful of nets and hooks and lines;

and swim, little ones, swim”.

The sea is wild and the waves crest high

As the hunter sinks to the deep and dies

And this is the song the hunter sings

As back to his children his last cry rings

“Run, run, little ones, run;

I killed the king and his blood wants yours

so run little ones, run.”

The king may sing as he speeds through night

The hunter cry as he fades from sight

But you and I are safe and dry

and I will sing this lullaby

“Sleep, sleep little one, Sleep;

You and I are safe and dry,

so sleep, little one, sleep.”

Death of a tourist/Death of a hero

Vogir leans forward, his hands gripping his own thighs for support. His heavy panting sounding loud in the silence after the battle.
Despite using his corpse as a counter weight while riding down the rope, it’s only now that Vogir actually realises that Daelagor is dead.
He had been so angry at his own failure to support the Eladrin, that he literally lowered himself into death’s maw.
He had been wounded by the two opportunist skeletal creatures even before he’d managed to reach the bloody ground.
Unsurprisingly, it had been the noble Egil that was the first to follow him down.
Equally unsurprising the Paladin had been the next to die.
Mostly everyone had joined in the melee by then but the enemy were too powerful.
Kalarel seemed impossible to hurt and his undead minions unnervingly strong.
It was only Vogir’s own magical armour that kept him alive through blast after blast of necrotic energy.
Egil had managed to keep the evil priest occupied while the rest of the Party concentrated on his followers. By the time that Egil was lost, only three men, a dwarf and Daelagor's failed bodyguard: Velorian stood between Kalarel completing his rituals and freeing the thing writhing within the portal.
Egil lost to the tentacles of the monstrous creature itself!
Bayern, Zahig, Velorian and Rudha-an turned their attention to Kalarel, enabling Vogir to dispatch the last of his underlings. Then the battle became five against one.
Good odds it would seem, but the cursed Priest refused to concede defeat.
Spell after spell battered the Party and all seemed lost when a sudden sword thrust found its target.
In the confusion, it was hard to tell who’s hand had been on the hilt of the killing thrust, but Vogir allowed himself the tight-lipped smile of revenge.
With a screech of rage, the portal collapsed and Winterhaven was saved.

Fiery exit

Rushing toward the closing door, Vogir grabs at the handle. Unfortunately the Hobgoblin on the other side proves to be too strong.
It takes several heavy blows from Egil’s sword to smash it down but before he can charge in, Zahig steps into the breach and summons up a floating ball of fire.
With nowhere to run, Hobgoblin after hobgoblin are horribly burned.
Seeing his cause lost, the War chief tries to dispatch Daelagor but he’s stymied by the heroic efforts of Bayern and Egil.
After a few healing words are uttered by the Dwarven cleric, Daelagor wakes in the dim light to the smell of burning flesh.

Bars of frustration

Firing arrow after arrow at the Hobgoblin slavers from behind the safety of the portcullis, Vogir shouts for the others to advance.
The Hobgoblins are clever though and (dragging Daelagor behind them) flee from Vogir's line of fire towards a side room.
Running up as quickly as they're able, Egil and Bayern struggle with the metal portcullis until Vogir drops his bow to aid them.
Slowly the bars bend apart until even the Dwarf can slip through.
It’s too late however.
The Hobgoblins have made it to the next chamber.

Stairway to heaven

He cursed a quick elven curse for not spotting the small hidden peek hole in the door at the other end of the room. By the time he realised his mistake, the group of hobgoblins was already in full sprint towards him. Calm as always he considered his options in the split-second it took him to ready the dagger and unsheathe his longsword: He thought about the trap mechanism just a few feet behind him which would trigger the portcullis and separate the group from his companions giving them enough time to organise a defense by the time the hobgoblins could open it again.
The slavers only had covered a few feet when Daelagor started to turn and head for the mechanism when he saw the weapon coming towards him from the left. Unable to dodge it, he could feel it penetrating his shoulder just a second later and now noticed also the other three opponents, storming out the door to his left. He tried to parry the next two attacks but - with the first sword still constricting his movement - failed. Now that his body had a chance to catch up with the recent chain of events, the pain started and darkness started to take over.

He could feel the rays of warm sunlight on his face and opened his eyes. Lying in soft, mossy grass he looked up where the rays broke through a canopy of white leaves far above him, bathing the forest around him in soft light. It was reflected from the silvery bark of massive trees. Never had he seen such majestic trees! Even the most beautiful white trees of Senaliesse, the home of the summer queen Tiandra, seem pale in comparison to them. His hands felt the warm grass around him and with his eyes now getting accustomed to the bright light he could make out the chrystal-like buildings and hanging bridges in the tree tops. While trying to lift his upper body, unbearable pain suddenly started to cloud his mind......

Pain! He again opened his eyes in the midst of a raging fight. Directly above him he could make out the dwarf Bayern standing over his chest and being surrounded and attacked by three opponents, fiercely defending his position. Just when Daelagor tried to make sense of the scene his eyes could see, it blurred and the darkness came back.

Walking on the soft grass he reached out for the silver bark of the tree in front of him. How did he get here? The bark was sleek and flawless and he looked up the tree which was at least 10 feet wide with branches only starting in the far distance. He could feel the power of nature radiating from the tree up his arm and through all the cells of his body. He turned around and for the first time noticed the silky white robe he was wearing. It was of outstanding quality and he only had seen comparable fabric at the court of the Eladrin queen. Still feeling the fabric with his hands, he noticed the woman standing near the next tree, watching him. She was also wearing a perfect white robe which seemed to play with the sunlight hitting its surface and Daelagor could make out the bottom of a staircase behind her. He started to walk slowly towards her and opened his mouth to speak....

The loud noise of metal hitting metal next to him made him open his eyes and the face of Egil occupied almost his whole field of vision. He could feel the paladin's hand on his chest and felt a warmth emanating from it as if life was streaming back into his body, attenuating the pain. Within seconds his head was clear again and his trained senses took over. The hobgoblin warchief was standing between Egil and the dwarf and despite their attacks the slaver seemed to try to attack Daelagor. The hobgoblin's sword scratched along Daelagor's arm while he was getting up and before leaping out of the danger zone Daelagor's dagger just missed the open spot within the armour of his opponent. Just seconds later Daelagor could see the hobgoblin going down and the noise of battle dying down. Daelagor looked at Egil and Bayern who were standing over the now dead body of the leader and piecing together the few memories of this battle he realised, that without these two companions he would be dead by now. A debt that he won't take lightly! He could also feel a image of majestic trees and a woman slowly fading away. Before he could make sense of it and it was gone.

Prayer

Egil wiped his blade clean of blood, taking a deep breath as he surveyed the carnage. The hobgoblins had fought well, their bravery and tenacity far superior to the cowardly tactics of the goblins he had encountered below. He looked at their corpses, wondering if he had fought beside them in the many campaigns where had served as a mercenary. Despite being outnumbered and outclassed, the warchief and his guards had struggled against the invaders to the death, even risking the party's wrath to kill their unconscious enemy. Egil knelt and offered a prayer for the dead to Kord.

Fallen Foemen, Soldiers fierce!

Mighty Stormgod saw your struggle

Clashing swords, clanging steel

Righteous song soars to his stables

Swift they ride, Shieldmaiden's steed

Ferries home the fearless fighter

Hall of worthies, Warrior's rest.

Bane's bale powers cannot blight.

Standing up, he fastened the straps of his armour, once again ready for battle.