Red hate

Dragged straight back to hell by the clawed hands of scores of lesser devils, Zartak found himself securely back in his former prison.

It’s large and he has servants of course. Grandeur to suit his station but he is not allowed to leave.

A cage, no matter how gilded, is still a cage.

Silently he broods.

Silently he plots.

He shall have his revenge in the blue dragon.

He shall see her fall. 

Arrows of outrageous fortune

The uninjured Vogir stands still for a moment as he suppresses a shudder of revulsion.
The giant spider lies dead at his feet.
He was lucky. It was killed before he'd even had a chance to defend himself from its freakish leap.
One of his companions was responsible for the help, and although he hopes it was Bayern, he somehow knows it was the Eladrin.
Being indebted to a ‘Tourist’ makes it that much harder to hate them.
Especially when that 'Tourist' is obviously mourning his dead cousin.
After making sure everyone else is safe, Vogir checks his supply of arrows.
Only two encounters in and he’s already burned through nearly half of his original three quivers worth.
It’s obvious now, that his Grandfather was right. A Longbow and enough distance will make for an easy battle.
The only problem is, that you have to be able to carry an infinite supply of arrows.
Muttering to himself, Vogir scans the gloomy tunnels, looking for any of the arrows that missed their target.
Some of them may still be usable.

(Vogir recovers 3 arrows.)

First Impressions

Niema healed herself and looked around. It had been a quick battle and it had been difficult to hide her abilities from the others without getting hurt too much. It was the first fight she saw the group fighting and it was time for a quick analysis.
The dwarf definitely was the one to stay close to. His spells had been useful and a healer is always a good thing to have around you. She would have to be careful to keep him on her side.
The Eladrin seemed to be a powerful fighter who had the ability to use teleportation which made him a useful tool but was also a bit reckless at times. The death of his cousin still seemed to affect him and maybe kept him from keeping a clear head for the fight.
Celestes, well, was a half-orc and for that had fought well. Niema didn't think much of orcs. They made good meat shields but needed a strong hand to lead them. Jumping into the river into the middle of the fish was an, lets say, interesting choice. The type of choices that get you killed quickly! But it enabled herself to move around almost freely behind his back.

Her gaze fell on the Dragonborn. He hadn't been there when she first met the group and had only joined again later. Niema hadn't talked to him yet. Dragonborns long ago had fought her race and were responsible for her people being nomads now and the hate was still rooted deep inside her. Her diabolic blood was boiling every time she looked at him. But the group seemed to think highly of him, so her options of getting rid of this nuisance without losing the group were slim. But as expected, he was a lousy fighter. He took the most damage and had to run from the attackers and hide behind a shed. So maybe this problem would solve itself soon.

While she was thinking about Ghanash, Vogir had joined the group again and gave her a probing look. Although being a male human, the type of people she normally had no problem manipulating, he seemed to keep his distance from her. His arrows had taken down the Hippogriffs and he clearly was the best ranged fighter in the group. He surely couldn't suspect anything! She couldn't afford to have him as opponent. She brushed down her dress and went straight for him with an enthusiastic voice:
"And here comes the hero who took down the Hippogriffs all by himself with his arrows! I haven't seen anybody for some time who was that proficient with a bow and made it look so easy! I'm honoured to have such an talented protector by my side!"

Fish and Hip(pogryph)s

Sheathing his two swords, Vogir kicks the carcass of the Hippogryph. Thanks to his arrows he’d managed to bring down both of them while his travelling companions had dealt with the curious, water squirting fish.

Examining his injuries, he waits for Bayern to cross the bridge and administer some aid.

Those Hawk/Horse creatures were tough but thankfully as stupid as the fish.

Shaking his head, he wonders about the twisted concept of bravery the others seem to share.

The Dragonborn Ghanash, acted in a way as to be expected, and the Orc Orestes too. But the others…

Velorian, seemingly lost without his cousin, acted rashly. He actually attempted to teleport up to the Hippogryph while in flight.
The following fall could easily have killed him…
Perhaps he’s feeling a bit suicidal?

The Tiefling: Niema is literally too dark to be trusted.
What was she doing in the dungeons of Winterhaven? She was certainly no sacrificial virgin, regardless of what she said… And she has magic.
Black magic.

Only the Dwarf Bayern has proven himself totally trustworthy. He ably supported the others with his encouragement, strong arms and healing spells.

Still, wading into the water after fish. What were they thinking?
Why don’t any of them have bows?

Sighing, Vogir wishes Zahig and Rudha-an had joined them. At least they know how to stay away from an enemy.

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.

Letters from Winterhaven (1)

I extend my greetings to you from Winterhaven, and hope this missive finds you well, if it finds you at all. The humans operating the local mail system do not show the proper level of dedication required for such an important profession. But then, they seem to fail on so many levels. Their guards are ineffective in times of trouble, absolutely oblivious to a death cult basically sitting outside their city, and their idea for survival is to run towards the next ragtag band of adventures and ask for help. But I digress ….

Daelagor, whom I have found, is well and set in his way as usual. He is still insisting to fulfill his oath, but at the same time gets distracted by random encounters on all sides. Just talking to his recently acquired entourage (I shall talk about them later, and there is much to say) has given me the impression that he has fought many battles in the last month, none of them leading any closer to the destructions of the band of our hated “cousins” responsible for the death of his mentor’s family. So, this might take a while.

As you have insisted, I shall now stay at his side, and I will do my best to usher matters towards a speedy resolution. It is my hope that we might then embark to find the foul killers, deal with them and return to our blessed homeland.

On the positive side, Daelagor’s skills seem to have improved. Especially his ability to lurk in the shadows and quickly stick blades into people was impressive. Unfortunately his knowledge of the arcane and his manners are as were, which lead to me experiencing his other abilities firsthand.

Velorien Faronion

A convergence of paths

During the next day Velorien returned. Cunningly, he had woven a spell that should have woken him if one of his family had left the city walls. He slept safe and sound, undisturbed by the noises of nature. But as he neared the tree he saw that the message was gone.

“How can this be,” he thought. “The message is gone, but Dealagor did not leave the city?”

He wondered if this was one of those acts of human vandalism, taking a message meant for someone else. But who would do such a thing, it seemed deeply uncivilized.

“Maybe Dealagor evaded my spell, and took the message nonetheless. But why not leave an answer? On the other hand, this would be very much like him. Careless; and his spelling was always less than perfect.”

Resigning to the fact that further contemplation might not yield additional insight Velorien decided to take action and to follow the footsteps. One of them might be Eladrin; but then his tracking was worse than Dealagors spelling.

You've got (Tre)e-mail!

While his companions quietly examine the opposite wall with the peephole within the secret wall, Daelagors thoughts come back to the note he had found that morning.
Early last night, he had watched the stranger fix the note to the tree. In the twilight he had only been able to see a tall shape moving near the city gate and then move over to the tree about a hundred feet from Daelagors position on the other side of the path. The creature had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Only later in the night did Daelagor climb off the tree and give away his location to check the area and find the note affixed to the tree. Intrigued, he had taken down the note and had gone back into hiding. He recognised the script and language immediately as the one used around Mithrendain where he was raised.

"We shall meet soon, my brother"

He had waited for the stranger to reappear but the next people he saw were his companions in the morning. Could it be his brother? Daelagor hadn't seen his brother since they'd split up to follow the different groups of drow. Did Corellon finally bring them back together?
But his brother wouldn't leave notes. He would just find him and surprise him as they always did when they were younger. Daelagor starts smiling when the memories returned. He had almost killed him once when his brother had jumped out of a tree to take him down and Daelagor had reacted instinctively. But if not his brother, who else could it be?

His companions started moving closer to the hole in the wall. The answer to that question would have to wait, but as soon as the current problem here is solved he has to go back to search for the stranger......

Getting closer ...

After several weeks of travel Velorien knew he was getting closer. Rumours of a shady Eladrin had led him towards the town of Winterhaven, a bastion of filth and disease. As he circled the city he came upon the body of a dead goblin. Turning the body around his mood lightened, a clear cut through both the jugular vein and the cartoid artery, the signature move of his lost cousin.

As he pressed on he came upon a battlefield; the stench of burned bodies lingered in the air. As he walked up to the pyre he was sure that something big must have died here, a huge lump of a body was still slowly charring on a bigger pile of small bodies. He looked around, but could not make out what happened here. None of the bodies appeared to be his cousin, and the site seemed to have been quite hastily abandoned after the battle, the tracks leading back to the city.

Unwilling to enter the city just yet, he pinned a note to a tree in the vicinity of the city gates and went back into the forest for a rest. Daelagor would eventually come out of this city, and he would be waiting.

Some time ago, in a forest far, far away ...

Velorien ran his hand over the bark of the old mothertree while he ascended the spiral staircase that would take him high into the foliage. Those trees contained the soul of his people, and hic acute senses felt the slight tingle of arcane energy that passed into him. If he wanted, he could tap into that energy and use it to fuel his magic, but his concentration was fleeing, distracted by the summons into the hall of the elders. ‘Why would he be summoned to meet the lady of their clan?’ he wondered as he entered, only to find the hall empty but for his aunt. She had her back turned to him, looking towards the city ruins at the edge of their forest.

‘My Lady’ Velorien bowed.

‘Don’t be silly, nephew’ she turned around and looked at him. ‘Do you remember your cousin, Dealagor, my oldest son?’

‘Yes, my lady’

‘I want you to take a message to him. Tell him that his mother longs for him to come home. Tell him that every day, at noon, I walk to the city ruins and climb the highest tower, and look over the land in the hope of seeing my child return.

Velorien looked up and frowned, ‘Surely, if his father ordered him to return, there would …’

‘His father is busy, and on his way to the council,’ she interrupted him. ‘He believes that good leadership is to never give a command that will not be obeyed, but he will not reign our house forever. Dealagor needs to start behaving like his position commands him to do, and with your understanding of duty, you are just the person to remind him of this.’

Velorien bowed his head, to indicate the acknowledgement of the compliment, and a rare smile crept on his face. What honour.

‘Oh, and if Dealagor decides not to come back, just yet, I would be pleased to see it that you take care of his safety. There is no need to come back without him!’

‘As you command, my Lady’ Velorien was stunned, this could mean exile for many years. He just hoped that Dealagor would see reason, soon. As he looked up he saw that the lady was already walking towards the door, readying herself to depart.

‘I regret that we have to end this here, but the sun nears its zenith, and its time for me to walk to the ruins.’ She looked straight into his eyes, and her face was empty of all the warmth and light she used to radiate. Her stone cold face of duty looked at him, and there was no doubt that she would keep her promise, just as he would keep his. Before she left she turned just once more, and remarked with a smile,

‘Velorien, do not let yourself be ordered around by Dealagor, he is not your lord, yet.’