Note: This story is mine, begun in the year 2001, and finished as of February 2002.  Not all of the characters are mine, for example, Dove and Storm.  Those characters belong to Wizards of the Coast, and the writers of the forgotten Realms novels in which they appear.  The original characters, like Raine, Tristain, Andar, Dazelin, Gull, etc. are mine, however, and are not to be used without my permission.  Some of the plots may seem familiar, as they were based on adventures published in the Dragon magazines, and the Pool of Radiance supplement put out by Wizards of the Coast.  The rest of the plots are mine.  This story was written for purely entertainment purposes and not to make any money.  Thank you, and I hoped you enjoyed it. Thanks, Azurielle.

                                                           

Raine the Banshee

By Azurielle

The air was chilly for a late summer afternoon, but Harvestmistress Emilia attributed it to the northern winds blowing down the coast.  She methodically went about the church and began closing the shutters over the costly colored-glass windows.  The windows were very rare, and had been a gift to the church of the Earthmother by a wealthy patron, no doubt seeking to assuage a guilty conscience.  There were four in all, each one depicting a season of the year in vivid color.   She knew a storm was brewing, having lived near the sea for most of her life, and so she decided to secure the windows while she had the chance.  Once the "northerner" hit, there would be more than enough to do, rounding up the children, lighting candles and torches, cooking the evening meal, and generally maintaining order during a storm of notorious fury.  A year ago things had been easier, but that was before the old priest, Harvestmaster Gwain had succumbed to the rigors of age.  Now there was just her, the younger priest, a Trueseed named Jael, and a very young "close one", called Lana, who acted, more often than not, like another child, rather than the budding priestess that she was.  There were just the three of them to tend to the church, the parishioners, and the dozen children they looked after…orphans all…mostly due to the storms that swept up the coast and killed their fisher-folk parents, or the pirates that raided their farmer parents.  Emilia expected that at least half of them would be gone by winter…adopted by childless families, or folk who'd lost their own children to the same predators to whom the orphans had lost their families.

            Emilia had just barely finished up with the windows when Priest Jael returned with the children.  They'd been out working in the fields earlier in the day, Jael teaching the children more about the ways of the Earthmother with hands on experience.  The children did seem to enjoy the idea of a goddess who encouraged them to "play" in the dirt.  Emilia quickly became immersed in the task of washing and feeding the 12 orphans. 

They'd just sat down to eat when the storm hit.  It seemed as though it were calm one moment, and then a near-solid wall of wind and water rocked the small church.  The younger children, of course, erupted into gales of screams and tears to match the weather.  It took nearly an hour for the older children and the three adults to calm them back down and finish the meal.  After dinner, Emilia went around the church, lighting torches and candles, while Jael and Lana tried to lull the children to sleep with one of the duller stories of the Earthmother's religion.  Emilia just finished with the candles over the altar to the Earthmother, when something strange happened.  She looked over to the windowsill where the spring scene window was.  The shutter on one side of the window opened with a deafening *slam*!  Emilia practically jumped right out of her robes.  She was trying to decide whether of not to brave the tempest and try to refasten the shutter again, when she saw a tiny shoot of green appear on the stone sill.  Within a matter of seconds, it grew, and bloomed into a delicate red rose, with pale white at the tips of the petals…A sign from the Earthmother, Emilia immediately recognized it…but she could not discern the meaning of the message…she'd not asked a question, or for any help…and she did not think that she'd done anything extraordinary today to either please or upset her goddess…so why?  Then, all of a sudden, the rose, so healthy for that moment, withered and began to die…then vanished entirely.

"What are you trying to tell me, Earthmother?"  Emilia fell to her knees in sudden prayer.  The shutter banged against the wall again, as though thrown open by an angered hand…no not angered, Emilia realized.  It was a warning.  Hurry…hurryhurryhurry…the shutter beat out a tempo against the stone walls.  Emilia paused.  She'd been thinking of going outside to see to the shutter, and the flower had appeared…when she'd stopped, the flower had vanished. 

"I must go outside, then?"  Emilia asked.  Almost as in reply, there came a wail, rising for a moment above the sound of the northerner…an unearthly scream that hurt her ears and soul, both.  It faded away with a crash of thunder.  Emilia ran to fetch her mantle, and a torch that would not go out no matter how wet the rain, or swift the wind.  Jael looked startled at her sudden entrance and flurry of motion, for Emilia was not a woman given to quick movements.

"Where are you going Em?" he asked.  Her reply was breathless as she rushed…hurryhurryhurry sounded the shutter.

"I must go outside…received a sign from the Earthmother…must hurry!"  Jael nodded, never doubting her words, as he helped her into her mantle.  Emilia went to side door, and wrenched it open.

"Wait here, and hold the door," she said to Jael.  He nodded, and held tight, for the wind was strong, but so, too, was he.  Emilia went out…the wind whipped her hair into her face, each strand hitting her face was like a tiny, stinging whip.  The rain nearly blinded her; the sky was midnight-black with heavy clouds.  She ran to the shutter, and rebolted it.  :Was that all?: she wondered.  She turned back the way she'd came, when her eyes caught hold of a splash of red down by the water where there should not be any red. She ran down the hill the church sat on and to the beach.  The waves were very high, and hardly any of the sand could be seen.  A flash of lightning illuminated the area, and she saw again the color red beside a large piece of wood.  Emilia dashed down to the water, her robes and mantle both soaked through.  Finally she made it to the shoreline, and to the mysterious form.  Lightning flashed again. A person!  So small, and with a mass of red cloth…no it was hair covering the form…not just a person…a child, Emilia realized.  Without any hesitation, she scooped up the small one, and backed away from the water.  She looked back only once, just in time to see lightning strike the spot where the child had lain. 

Emilia was not very old, or weak, but she was gasping for breath by the time she made it back up the hill, fighting the wind for every step.  Jael was waiting, and managed to wrestle the down shut, once she'd entered. 

"Quickly!  Blankets, Jael!"  She ordered.  He ran off to find some.  She noticed eyes watching her from the doorway.

"Time for bed…Lana take the children to their rooms."  The wide-eyed priestess complied, hustling the children off to the back of the church.  Emilia quickly made her way to the kitchen, which was usually the warmest of the rooms in the temple.  She lay her "foundling" down on the table.  The child was around 5 or 6 years of age, Emilia judged, and rather thin.  The red hair was long, reaching halfway down the child's back.  The skin was deathly pale, bluish-hued around the lips. 

"Am I too late?" she asked the empty room.  Her hand hovered over the mouth, searching for a sign of life.  There was breath…faint, and rattling in the child's chest.  Suddenly, the body coughed…water spilled from the mouth.  Emilia turned the child on its side.  After several long minutes, the poor thing had managed to cough up what seemed a gallon of seawater and sand.  Emilia checked the little one over for wounds…and found one.  It was on the temple of the child's head…a deep, jagged gash…bleeding freely…the crimson liquid matching the hair it spilled into, perfectly.  It was uneven and vicious…a death wound for some…Emilia thought she saw a flash of white in the blood…of bone?  But the child was still alive, still breathing…so Emilia could not abandon hope.  Jael returned then, not only with blankets, but…bless him…with healing herbs, a needle and thread, and other various healing accoutrements. 

" I thought we might need these," he stated as he set everything down.  Jael was a natural healer; his abilities and his god-granted spells made him one of the best there was in this part of the island.  So Emilia was not heartened when he blanched at the sight of the wound.  All the same, he did not hesitate in his duty.

"We'll need to clean that out with hot water and herbs…mustn't have anything in there when we sew it up."

"Should we not just pray for a healing spell?" Emilia asked, thinking it would be quicker.

"We could, but if it isn't cleaned properly, infection could set it.  It is best to be thorough now, rather than worry how to fix the carelessness later," he replied with a shake of his head.  Emilia left the judgments to him, knowing his healing knowledge was vastly greater than hers, for all that she was older, and higher up in the religious order.

Together, the gently cleaned the wound, and stitched it together.  The scar would be ragged, and unsightly, but easily hidden by hair…assuming the child lived.  They washed the child…a girl; they realized when they removed the tattered remains of clothing from her body…removing the worst of the sea salt and sand. The clothing gave no clue as to who she was or where she'd come from.  It was clear, though, that she was most likely not from the Moonshaes… her skin was far too pale to be of the Ffolk, or even the Northlanders…and her hair was of a shade that Emilia had never seen on anyone from the islands.  No…the girl was probably from the mainlands…on a boat that had gone done in the suddenness of the storm, perhaps.  They would look for bodies and wreckage tomorrow.  There was only one salvageable item…a talisman.  It was silver, on a leather cord, with two symbols engraved on it.  On one side, there was a symbol of a simple harp, while the other side depicted the rising sun, with rays beaming out from it.  The cord was tightly tangled in the child's fist and fingers, nearly cutting off blood flow in some places.  They unwound it and set it aside to examine later.  With voices twinned by chanting the same spell, they called upon the power of the Earthmother to heal the child.  The wound on the girl's temple slowly knitted together, the flesh growing back at a faster-than-normal rate.  When the spell finished its course, the wound was much improved.  But to Emilia's dismay, it was not fully healed…and considering the power of the spell they'd used, it should have been. Either the wound was much worse than either she or Jael had assumed, or there had been other…internal injuries that had also had to be healed.  They had done what they could this night, though…too much magical healing could be nearly as bad as the original wound for a body, Emilia knew.  They covered the wound with a packet of healing herbs, and wrapped it with clean cloth.  They then dressed the girl in a clean shift, and put her in a bed in the church's "sick" room.  Having done what they could, Emilia went to rest, while Jael took the first "watch."

By morning's light, the little girl had worsened.  A high fever had set in, and their best efforts were doing little to drive it down.  The storm was over, and Jael and Emilia had sent Lana out with the children to check the condition of the fields, repairing what damage they found there.  The two elder priests took turns bathing their charge with cool water, forcing her to drink potent, herb-laced tea as often as they could.  During one of the lulls, Emilia went down to walk the shores of the beach.  Strangely enough, she found no other bodies, no sign of debris that would suggest a sunken ship.  But where, then, had the child come from?  She found nothing on the land or on the waves to suggest an answer to her question.  It would be a full ten-day before the child's fever subsided…before the wound began to heal true…and before she awoke.

I mostly remember the pain from that time of my life.  It was as though nothing existed in the world but pain.  I remember voices…they came and went…some were so familiar that I wanted to scream when they left…some were strange to me, but soothing…and there was always one voice…it was the only one whose words I could hear…it told me to forget…forget everything…I don't think I wanted to forget…I think maybe that I tried to fight…but the harder I fought the worse it got.  I must've given up, and given in, for when I woke up, I didn't remember anything about me…my name…who I'd been, where I'd come from, my people…nothing.  The first thing I saw was Harvestmistress Emilia's face…her skin was brown, and her hair was dark…I don't think I'd ever seen anyone like her before…I was frightened…but she smiled…and I thought that maybe I died…and maybe she was an angel.  It took me a long while to heal from the wound…physically that is.  I still haven't recovered mentally.  I had to learn things again…how to walk, how to eat, how to make my mouth make sounds to match the words in my head.  I don't think that I spoke the same language as "Lady" Emilia and the others…it took me a long time to puzzle out what they were saying.  Even to this day, I know another language in my mind…it's the one I think in, and I always have to translate all the other languages I know to that one.  When I'm alone, I even speak the language, but I never met anyone who understands it.  Maybe I'm crazy…well I'm pretty sure of that anyhow…maybe I made it up…but somehow, I don't think I did.

            Lady Emilia…I called her that…she seemed like the grandest of ladies to me, even though she dressed in plain brown and green robes, and wore her hair loose, and walked barefoot in the summer.  Besides, saying "Harvestmistress" was a long word, and I was a little kid.  Lady Emilia told me all about how she'd found me…on the beach in a storm.  She said it was summer when she found me, but the air was cold, and the land was bare when memories began to stay firm in my head, instead of sliding about, and away…all blurry like salt water in your eyes.  She was patience itself, and not just because she was a priestess.  When I had learned to walk again, she took me down to the beach, to see the water, and the sand.  I think that she didn't want me to be afraid of anything because of what had happened to me.  She would take her shoes off and walk in the surf, even though it was cold out, just so I would see that the water wasn't scary.  I think I loved her, even then, when I hardly knew her.

 It was during one of those walks that I found a "thing."   I didn't have many things…only one, really.  One thing that was mine, and no one else's…I didn't even know what it was.  Lady Emilia said she found it in my hand…a silver pendant with two symbols, one on each side.  I asked her what the symbols meant, the harp and the sun, but she didn't know.  She said she'd never seen anything quite like them, though she claimed that since I was most likely from the mainland, they could be symbols from there.  Maybe someday I would leave the Moonshaes and find out what the two symbols meant.  I wore it around my neck, on a piece of leather, though…because it was mine.  So when I found the "thing," it was an important day for me.  Lady Emilia had been resting on the shore, and I was exploring the area.  I left no stone (as long as it was small) unturned, not tree stump unexamined.  I found it tangled in the roots where the dirt fell away to sand in a soft, low cliff.  I thought that it was a fisher's net at first, for it was woven and silvery… it wasn't.  Not a net, but rather, some sort of bag made of woven metal, still silvery, even though it had obviously been outside for a while.  I managed to get it open…my fingers still weren't good at opening complicated things at that point.  Inside there was a gleam of purple…so pure and shiny…I'd never seen anything like it…at least not in the few months since I'd been "born."  I say months, because I never have been able to remember when my birthday was, so I celebrate it…when I remember to…on the day that Lady Emilia pulled me out of the sea, wet, and bloody, and with a mind as empty as an baby's. 

It was a flute of some kind…thin, and straight, made of a delicate, translucent purple crystal.  Of course, I ran over and showed it to Lady Emilia …I didn't even trip once, which was a good thing, or I might've broken it. She marveled over it, for neither had she seen anything like it.  She showed me how to put it to me lips and coax a sound out of it…a decision I do believe that she rather regretted in the following months, for I was dead set on learning to play the thing properly, and there was no one around who could or would teach me.  She told me that since I had found it, and she knew of no one who owned anything like it, that it was mine, to keep for always…a present from the sea.  I always got an odd feeling when I played with the crystal flute…it was almost familiar to me…but I tried not to think on it too much…Lady Emilia said I should never try to force my past to return to me…that if I was meant to remember, it would happen in it's own time. 

I spent that whole winter driving the residents of the Earthmother's church batty with my caterwauling on the flute.  Once it was apparent that my coordination skills were of a satisfactory level, they would send me outside to play.  I would usually go down by the ocean, and try to mimic the birds I heard down there, except seagulls of course…and make up songs to match with the sounds of the ocean.  I suppose I was a rather odd kid…

Winter passed.  It was cold, and dreary, with no snow since we lived on the southern edge of the island, only a few hundred yards from the water.  I know about snow, even though I've never seen it…odd, huh?  Lady Emilia filled my days well enough, though.  She and Jael spent their time teaching the other kids, and myself how to read and write.  They told us all sorts of tales about the Earthmother, our goddess.  The Earthmother, apparently, was in charge of making things grow, the earth, and the crops, and such.  She was a nice goddess, judging from what they told us.  Jael told us of another god… apparently not all people in the Moonshaes were like the people who'd taken me in.  There were another people to the north, not-surprisingly, they were called Northlanders.  They came from an island called Ruathym long ago and had settled here. They were very barbaric and flew into terrible rages…or so Jael told us.  He said that Northlander's loved to kill and make war, in accordance with their god of war, Tempus.  I decided, without much prompting, that Tempus was scary, and the Earthmother was much better. 

They also spoke of things that had little to do with religion.  One of my favorite tales was that of the old king and queen, Tristan and Robyn, and how they defeated a great evil called, "Bhaal" and saved the Moonshaes from utter destruction, and brought peace between the Ffolk and the Northlanders.  Of course the Northlanders still raid on the Ffolk occasionally, so I guess there's no such thing as total peace.  I decided that winter, that someday, I would go to Caer Callidyrr, where the royalty lived, and see it for myself…someday, when everything didn't seem so new and big to me. 

The only oddness that occurred during the cold months was the dream, and the beginning of the bruises. The dream was odd because I didn't have dreams like a regular person…I had the dream.  It was always the same.  I would wake beside a pond…a smooth, calm pond that seemed to be dammed up at one end…as though the water once flowed away, but no longer. I would sit up, and look over the water.  The water was salty…I knew without tasting, or touching… and it was somehow important that I knew this.  Looking down, my reflection was clear as though I was looking into a mirror of silver…but there were strange imperfections.  My reflection didn't quite match me, somehow.  I knew this, even though I had never seen my own reflection since waking.  The eyes were a little smaller…the nose thinner.  My reflection would reach out for me, the mouth moving in silent words…even though I knew I was not speaking.  My hand reached out for my mirror self, but a heartbeat from touching, a huge fist would appear, and shatter the calm of the water…and far away, from the other side of the pond was the sound of someone crying.  I had the same dream, over and over…not just that winter, but throughout my entire life, to this very day.  The reflection changed a bit as I got older, more to match me, but different as it had always been.  I never told anyone about the dream…not even Lady Emilia.  Somehow…I wanted to keep it for myself.

The bruises were a different matter entirely.  Lady Emilia always assumed that the bruises were the result of my having very fair, delicate skin.  I knew differently, though.  The bruises would appear at any time…at first I thought it was because I would bump into something and not remember.  But that excuse grew old swiftly.  They would appear in front of my eyes, when I knew that I hadn't done anything.  Sometimes bruises, sometimes scrapes.  Once or twice I even wound up with a black eye…and there was no logical excuse for it.  Being a kid I took it in stride…bruises were a part of life.  By the time I was older, it was commonplace in my life, so I hardly thought about it.  Like the dream, I never voiced any of my suspicions.  It was a good thing, too, considering that my reputation among the villagers was bad enough to begin with, and didn't need any more help.  Still, they happen to this day, and occasionally I wonder why…but as with all of my life questions, I have no answer. 

Spring came, and with it planting.  We spent many days going out to farms and fields…helping with the planting, and praying along with Jael, and Lana , and Lady Emilia, as they blessed the fields to grow well.  I guess the Earthmother didn't much care for people clearing lots of land, but she was nice enough to help out with the stuff that was already cleared. 

I suppose it may seem odd, but by the summer, I still didn't have a name.  My real name never came back to me, nor did anything else from before I was "born."  Lady Emilia called me "little one." Jael called me "the bratling."  Lana preferred to avoid me…especially after I put a toad in her bed the night after she scolded me for some silly reason.  It didn't bother me too much at first… I had more important things to worry about...like learning to walk, and read, and playing flutes, and catching toads...hehehe.  But, eventually, I noticed that the others kids at the temples had names…and the village kids did, too. I heard some women with fat bellies talking about what they were going to name their babies, one day, and so I turned to my paragon of everything wise and worldly.

"Lady Emilia, " I asked.  "Why can't I have a name?"   I remember she looked shocked…maybe nobody had ever asked her that before.

"Who said you can't have a name, little one?" she asked.

"Well, no one…but I don't have one," I replied, truthfully.  I didn't bother to make up a tale for Lady Emilia…even at that early date; she always knew when I was fibbing.

"We were hoping some of your memories would come back by now, " she explained. "And we didn't want to confuse you with two names."

"So I can't have one until I remember my old one?" I asked, dismayed.

"Of course not!  You may have whatever name you want.  You are very lucky, in a way…most children do not get to choose their own name, and have to accept whatever their parents choose for them.  Even icky names like Emilia," she smiled, her eyes sparkling.  I think she was jesting…in retrospect, of course.

"You're name isn't horrible!" I protested, a staunch defender of my lady.  She laughed, not unkindly.

"Why thank you for the compliment, little one.  So, what name will you choose?"  I sighed.

"None.  Kids aren't s'posed to choose their own names.  Their moms do.  I don't have a mom…or even a dad…I think my parents must not of wanted me and pitched me in the ocean, 'cause of my awful hair." I tugged viciously at the offending locks. 

"Where did you get such an idea?!" Lady Emilia exclaimed.  "Of course your parents didn't throw you into the ocean!"  I didn't really think so either, but I'd been entertaining the idea since one of the girls at the church had presented it to me in a tone that held all the sweetness of rotten eggs and hissing snakes.

"Well, then my parents are dead, then.  Either way, I can't ever have them again, and I'm so dumb I can't even remember the name they gave me."  I pouted, and yanked at my hair again.  I have a tendency to abuse my poor braid when I'm upset.  I suppose I might've cried, but the ability to do so, along with my memories, was gone.  Even at my hardest moments…and there were a lot, I never cried.  I remember once I got the idea in my head to make myself cry.  After failing to make myself sad with awful thoughts, I tried the pain route.  I went into the kitchen and carved open my hand with a kitchen knife.  It hurt like all hells, and bled like crazy, but not one tear.  Naturally, my reasoning on that particular occasion eluded Lady Emilia.

            "You are not dumb. You're very smart…and your hair is beautiful…it reminds me of the red glass in the church windows."  Now that was a bit of a compliment, since I knew that Lady Emilia's favorite thing to look at was all that pretty glass.  So finally, I got around to asking what I'd wanted to the whole time.

"Um…maybe…maybe you could give me a name.  I know you're not my mother or anything, but you saved me…so maybe it would be like the same thing," I didn't look up once…just in case she said no, so I could run away and not remember the look on her face.  She was quiet for a moment.  Thinking, I suppose…for a minute, I was almost afraid.  I finally did look up… she had a shocked expression…but happy too.  She named me Raine.  "Rain" because of the night she found me, and because I liked to play out in the rain, even though they were always telling me I'd catch my death of cold…and an "e" because I was special…much more so than regular rain… at least, that's what Lady Emilia told me. 

Lady Emilia taught me so many things…and I regret that I have forgotten so much.  She taught me to braid my hair that summer.  My hair, you see, was very long, even then.  A braid kept it from tangling, and out of my face.  I hardly think I've been without my braid since that first summer.  And I have bangs…white bangs, as opposed to my red hair…and lots of them.  I don't know why my bangs are white, and my hair is red.  I suppose I could've dyed them the same, but the idea never occurred to me when I was young, and doesn't really appeal to me now.  I use my bangs to hide three things…my eyes, my ears, and my scar.  In the case of the last one, it's because the scar isn't very pretty.  With the eyes and ears, it was different tale all together.

 I figured out pretty quickly that I wasn't normal...not by any Moonshaen standard.  My skin is too fair, my hair too bright.  My eyes have an odd slant to them, and they're wide, and larger than normal folks' are…and the color, a bright sapphire blue, flecked with gold…odd.  I don't like people to ask about them, so the bangs, odd enough themselves, cover them up.  Then there's my ears.  They're about the right size…but not the right shape…not round, but ending in sharp, little, points.  My ears are very sensitive, and I hate to have them touched.  When the other kids noticed them, I got a lot of ear pulls.  To end that, I hid away temptation…once again using my hair, and the thick fringe of my bangs hid away my oddness.  So while I always looked a bit shaggy, and definitely "peasant-class," I at least looked human. 

Appearance aside, I was never much liked by the other kids…not at the church and not from the village.  Growing up, and my whole life, I've never really had any one I could call my "friend."   There was Lady Emilia, and Jael, and later there was Gull…but I never had any friends...never really wanted any, and I usually discouraged those who tried.  In retrospect, I think that maybe it was a defensive maneuver on my part…or maybe I was waiting for the prefect person…or maybe I'm just anti-social.

It was late summer when the first "attack" happened.  I'm not even certain what caused it…of course, I rarely do know.  I was down by the water, practicing my flute…I was getting better no matter what anyone said.  I was looking out over the ocean, calm as a millpond that day, watching the boats of the fisher folk.  It hit me like an arrow from a giant's bow…a sharp shooting pain in my temple…and one at the base of my skull.  They arced up to meet somewhere in the middle of my head.  It was worst than anything I'd ever felt… even the time with my hand…even worse than all the times I fell learning to walk.  I lay still for just a moment…curled up on the sand.  My crystal flute wasn't in my hands anymore, for my hands were clutching my head.  I hoped it hadn't been broken.  I wanted to reach inside and rub away the pain.  I thought that if I lay very still, it would stop…but the longer I waited, the worse it got.  I couldn't even open my eyes, because every time I did, the pain intensified.  But even with all this pain…I didn't cry…I screamed.  The last thing I remember was the sound of voices…of the other kids running for help.

They told me later that they'd never heard screams like that before.  They said that people heard me screaming two villages away.  They said that the screams were sharp enough to hurt their ears, even from a distance. They said it wasn't natural.  Lady Emilia told them they were silly, that it was just because of the head wound.  But the "headache" had lasted for two days…so had the screaming for the most part.  And nothing had helped it.  Afterwards, I was as fine as I was before. 

That was the first time. 

The headaches would come on me with no rhyme or reason that I could discern.  They came without warning, and were almost completely incapacitating.  I heard it said that I would occasionally scream words, in a language that no one could understand.  Some people thought that I was possessed, and demanded that I be exorcised.  Lady Emilia and Jael, and Lana did so, but nothing happened, except that I was forced to waste an entire day inside!  The "attacks" didn't come very often, and some lasted only an hour or two, whereas some lasted days.  It effectively killed my chances of being adopted…no one wanted a screaming lunatic for a kid…and, I was obviously an outlander of some kind too…what with my "dreadful" hair.  I didn't mind much…not even the rumors, or the insults.  I developed the most irritating habit of turn their insults into compliments by deliberately misunderstanding the words.  Naturally that little…quirk…added to my reputation of being mad as a flying fish, but so long as I got to stay at the church, with Jael and Emilia, I was happy.  

The next few years went by a long blur.  My memories were never overly sharp…except for the truly vivid ones.  All the kids were adopted, and new ones took their places.  Lana eventually left, headed for a church of the Earthmother in a more civilized corner of Alaron, the island of the Moonshaes we lived on.  Lady Emilia said that Lana was not meant for life in the country…though I suppose that my antics towards her never did help much.  It wasn't that important for me, seeing as Lana and I had never gotten on well.  Nothing overly spectacular happened in all that time.  High Queen Alicia, and King Keane kept the peace of the queen's parents.  The Nelanther pirates were always a problem, raiding along the coast, but nothing any different than had been happening for hundreds of years in the Moonshaes.  The headaches were the worst of my problems, and that was minor at best. 

I eventually did teach myself how to plate the little crystal flute, fairly well.  For one "birthday," Lady Emilia and Jael…I think they were lovers by then, but it was hard to tell…bought me a special carved box to keep the flute in…so it wouldn't get broken.  I, of course was delighted by the present.  It was made of oak, and carved with the likeness of a cloud raining tiny butterflies, each one painted a bright color.  I stored my flute in it, when I wasn't using it, and any other treasures I found. 

One winter, we had a bard stay with us.  He was a talkative fellow from the isle of Gwenneth, and he regaled us with tales of the royal court and the other islands.  He spoke of new gods, from beyond the Moonshaes, and spoke of a grand city on the mainland, to the east, called Waterdeep.  He played a harp, and that attracted me.  To amuse…himself, more than me, I guess…he taught me the basics of playing it.  I thought, at the time, that with my love of music, that I might someday become a bard.  I was wrong, of course.

I was probably around twelve when my life changed forever…again.  I say around twelve, for I don't really know how old I am.  It was the fall, during harvest time, and there was a great deal of work to do.  All the same, I knew that it was Lady Emilia's birthday sometime around the end of the harvest, and I was determined to give her a nice present, since she'd bought me a small harp…plain, but very expensive, considering all the mouths she had to feed, and the usual lack of donations.  So I'd managed to sneak away, one afternoon, to the woods.  There was a stream running through it, and at one spot, the bank was low, and there were lots of river stones.  I'd spent the last few weeks going there, painstakingly searching out the prettiest, brightest, most colorful, or unusual stones I could find.  I only had a few more to go. Then I would take them all down to the village.  There was a man there who'd agreed to pierce holes through each stone and make them into beads for a necklace.  It wouldn't be anything fancy, but I knew that Lady Emilia would like it, for she always claimed that she liked the best the things that I made myself.  It was late afternoon when I finished, putting all the stones away in my belt pouch.  I was walking back to the church, when I caught the first whiff of smoke.  It was strong, and acrid…and it did not smell like the usual wood fires…it smelled awful…like burning meat.  All the same, I didn't think too much of it until I got to the village…and saw the fires.  The fields were smoldering…it was dry out, so it would've only taken a few minutes for them to go up.  The houses were on fire too.  Dread is a feeling I am now familiar with, but that day, it was new to me.  I wanted to run down to the village, to the church, and see if everyone was all right…maybe it was just an accident.  But inside my heart, I knew it was not, and so I was slow, and stealthy as I crept down.  I ran into the first bodies at the edge of the field.  They were charred and burned, but I could tell that they'd been dead before the fires were lit. The villagers were dead…all who were left.  Most of the younger adults, and children…especially the girls were gone.  I wasn't foolish enough to think they were hiding somewhere.  Most of those dead had obviously suffered…been tortured before they'd been killed.  Not surprisingly, the burning homes had been emptied of value before set ablaze. 

Now I did run, in a blind panic, up the hill road, to the church.  I whispered prayers under my breath to the Earthmother.

"…pleasedon'tletthembehurtpleaseletthembealive…" I hoped that maybe the pirates…for I knew it had to be the Nelanther pirates, the only creatures I knew of capable of such brutality…had missed the church.  But as I reached the top of the hill, I knew they had not. The roof of the church had burned away, but even the pirates could not destroy the stone walls.  The beautiful colored glass windows were shattered…ruined…Lady Emilia's windows…I knew I was breathing hard.  I ran up to the front door.  There were bodies there…only a few…but I knew who would be among them.  I found Jael first.  There was a broken quarterstaff beside him.  I knew that it must have been desperate for him to fight, for Jael had always been of a peaceable nature.  He'd been run through…several times, his throat cut.  But at least he's died relatively quickly.  Lady Emilia was closer to the church.  I guess they hadn't wanted her for a slave, like the others, because she was older.  Her robes were ruined, torn to pieces.  The lower half of her body was covered in blood…her wrists and hands were broken.  My mind blocked out the idea of how they must of killed her…no one should've done that to her.  I knelt beside her, my knees were instantly soaked in blood.  I touched her face gently, and to my shock, she was still alive.  She opened her eyes, and looked up at me.  She smiled, weakly.

"Oh…my little…Raine…you…got away…love…you…" She let out the last bit of air.  I waited a long time, but she never drew another.

I didn't cry…my heart was breaking, shattering like the pretty glass windows…I had a feeling it was not the first time I had been thus wounded.  It was the second family I'd lost…the first to the sea, the second to the sea's raiders …I really wanted to cry, but nothing would come. 

It took me a long time to bury them all.  Especially Jael and Lady Emilia, for them, I cleaned and dressed in what clothing the pirates had left.  I wanted to make them coffins, but hadn't the skill or strength.  So instead I gathered up all the glass, and laid the pieces over them, so that they would have something pretty with them…all but one piece, a petal of the rose that had been on the spring panel…the one that Lady Emilia had said was the color of my hair.  That I put in my box…the pirates hadn't taken it…not worth anything, I suppose…and it had been well hidden.  I gave Lady Emilia the stones, put them in her ruined hands, and apologized for not making them into a necklace, like I'd wanted.  I apologized for not being there, even though I knew, that she was glad I had not been.  It was foolish of me to think I would've made a difference where so many grown-ups had not.  But all the same, I hated myself for failing them…that day, and many after.  The grief had lessened with time, but even writing this causes it to burn within me.

It took three days, but I laid them all to rest, in the arms of the Earthmother.  I said prayers over them, hoping the goddess would accept them, even though I was by no means a priestess.  When I was done, I gathered up my things…some scavenged clothing…my box and it's contents…my harp, which only had a few broken strings, and a bit of food.  I promised myself I would not look back…but I did, just once. Then I left, following the roads, as the bard had once told me, to Caer Callidyrr.

I reached Caer Callidyrr, hungry, and tired, days later.  It was a port city, with a huge castle built above it.  The castle was where the King and Queen lived.  I first sought out the church to the Earthmother…they were sympathetic to my plight, but could do little more than give me a meal, and send me on my way.  I tried to find work, but I soon learned that I was "too small" and "too young" for any of the heavy, physical work.  My writing wasn't good enough nor was my reading, for any of the more scholarly tasks.  I tried to play my harp and flute for money, but there were many bards, from all over the Moonshaes, and even the mainlands, who were much better, knew more songs.  No one seemed to want an apprentice, for I hadn't the fees to pay.  After a few weeks, I'd lost a great deal of weight from lack of food.  I smelled awful, and had nowhere to sleep.  I knew I could sell my few things, the flute, the harp, the talisman, the box…but I couldn't bear to part with my few memories.  In desperation, I took up with a small band of thieves...children, like myself, who existed by "re-appropriating" the wealth of rich people in town.  I picked up the knack for stealing quickly, for I was rather small and had a light touch.  I learned early on to conceal my telltale hair.  I told myself, for a while, that it would just be until I could get a legal job…but as time wore on, I rebelled.  No one wanted me…there were so many poor people in the city, and so many rich people…why shouldn't the rich people share a bit?  Lady Emilia once told me that "we do what we must to survive."  I did what I had to…then did what I wanted to.  I suppose I fancied myself a bit of a "hero."  Maybe I still do in some respects.  I took what I needed, and gave what I didn't away to those whom I though did.  Needless to say, my "gang" wasn't happy with my chivalric tendencies, and booted me out.  Fine!  I didn't need them.  I began to work the streets on my own.  I did well enough, until one day; I managed to pick the pocket of another thief. 

His name was Alaric the Gull.  I came to understand that he was called "the Gull" for the dual misfortunes of his raspy voice, and his hooked, beak of a  nose.  He was impressed by skills, and offered to teach me.  By that point, I was desperate for any kind of normal human contact, and agreed quickly enough.  So began my "apprenticeship." 

Alaric wasn't his real name, naturally. 

            "People like us should never use our real names," he informed me.  There was a hint of regret in his eyes as he added,

            "…For if we are caught, the ones we love may suffer for our deeds, no matter that we are in the right."  I was quick enough to gather that he'd suffered some similar misfortune.  I assured him that Raine was my name, but that I'd no one left to worry about.  He gave me a pat on the head.  We were kindred souls.

            The Gull treated me much like a younger sister, I suppose…or a daughter.  He taught me all sorts of things…how to fight with a dagger, how to fight with a sword…how to shoot a bow, and how to shoot a crossbow.  I learned to fight dirty, and fair…how to kill quickly, and how to incapacitate.  He warned me, though, to always kill my enemies, so that they would not return to wreak havoc later.  No mercy for the wicked.  I agreed wholeheartedly.  He showed me how to hide, and how to be silent as I walked…I already knew of lifting purses, but he taught a few techniques I hadn't thought of yet.  And as I got older, he showed me how to open locks…how to take the thieving to the merchants', and nobles' homes, instead of waiting for the purses to come to me.  We were a great team.  He had a wry sense of a humor, and a "rob from the rich, and help out the poor" mentality, like myself.  He made me smile again. 

            "But don't forget about yourself, too," he reminded me, often.  "Some day," he would say, "when you are rich, you must let little thieves pick your pockets…for some need to feel to earn the money, rather than receive it as a gift".

            All went well, till the first headache hit.  I thought it would be over, then.  The last thing a thief needed was a partner who screamed like a tavern wench being murdered.  But when I woke from the sleep of the attack, he was there, with me.  His eyes belied his concern, but just for a moment. 

            "Well, my little banshee, I must be certain to keep some scrolls of silence about for the next time." 

            The Gull took me to a church, to have my head checked out, despite my protestations that it would come to naught.  As predicted, the priests could do nothing for a problem, that they could not identify the cause.  I knew well enough that it came from my two wounds…the one from the storm of my birth, and one from the back of my head.  Lady Emilia had never known of the second one…a strange scar at the base of my skull.  It must have come from before I was born, for it was always there.  Of course, I had no idea what it'd come from.

            Gull wasn't overly satisfied with the answer, but had no other recourse.  I assured him that I was used to the "attacks."  He replied that I shouldn't have to be.  From that day on, though, he called me "the Banshee."  I asked what it meant, and he told me the legend…of how, sometimes, when elves die, they come back as undead creatures, called banshees.  He explained that the trademark of the banshee was their screams…an unearthly wail that could kill if you were close enough…also said to be a portent of doom for those who hear it.  I thought it was intriguing, and didn't protest the name.  I asked him more about elves, for I'd heard little of such creatures…and certainly never seen one.  He seemed surprised at my statement.  When I asked why, he replied that I was clearly of elven blood.  It was my turn to be shocked.  He explained that my eyes and ears gave away my heritage…that I, like him, had an elf in my past.  He looked even more human than me, though, so I asked for an explanation.  He pulled back his shaggy brown hair, to reveal his ears…at first glance they were rounded as any humans, but then I noticed the scarring along the edges.

            "I came from a place where it was better to hide such heritage, than announce it.  My ears were once pointed, as yours are now, but a "kindly soul" removed the problems for me."  His dark eyes were cynical and his mouth twisted with his sarcasm.  I learned that he was from the mainland, that his mother had been half-elven…but nothing more than that. 

            "Keep your past hidden," he told me.  "You are safer that way."  It was the only explanation I ever received…and some how I was reminded of and old vow… a vow to forget…then it was gone again. 

            I was happy with Gull, and my new lifestyle…as different from my old as I could get.  It wasn't always perfect though, for living on the streets was hard, no matter how easy it seemed.

            I was fifteen or so, when I lost my virginity.  I suppose in the long run, it wasn't so bad a thing…or even that important…but I had hoped I would at least get a choice in the matter.  I didn't, of course.  Gull was laying low somewhere, after a particularly high profile burglary of one of the richer noble houses, so I was on my own for a bit.  I suppose I was being careless, for I'd not hidden my hair.  Two Northlanders caught me, no doubt thinking I was a whore...for it seemed that "red" and "whore" were synonymous in certain parts of town.  I was fast, but they surprised me before I could get to my daggers.  They were stronger.  They must've knocked me out, for I remember nothing until awaking to a sharp pain between my legs.  I was in a room, somewhere…on a bed.  I smelled the heavy aroma of ale and liquor on their breaths…drunk as fish, they ignored my protests.  One held me down, while the first used my body, thrusting into me with all the finesse of an animal.  I stopped struggling after a few moments.  The damage was done, and the more I fought the more it seemed to hurt.  After a bit, the first one finished, shuddered, and grunted, and spilled his seed inside me.  They switched places, and the second one took his turn. The second time wasn't as bad as the first...at least it didn't hurt as much.  The whole affair was messy, and painful…I felt foolish for getting caught…by northlanders, none-the-less!   So I bided my time…waited until they were through, and had fallen into a drunken stupor.  I gathered up my things, and at first, thought only to run.  Then, I thought better of it. Why should they get away with their misdeed?  First, I robbed them of everything worthwhile…weapons, money, everything.  Then I got rid of their clothing and bed sheets and anything they could use to cover up with.  Then, I went to work. 

            Gull, you see had been teaching me about tattooing, after I'd commented on his many inkings.  I wasn't very good yet, but my skills were adequate for what I had in mind.  A needle, black ink, and little time was all it took…they were so drunk they never awoke.  I laughed to think of it:  when they awoke…no woman would ever willingly bed with either of them…not with word "rapist" tattooed across their heads…both "heads."  I knew I shouldn't leave enemies alive, but just this once…

            I made my way out…I was in a rather slummy part of town, in a cheap inn.  I made my way back to where I'd been staying…It was very late.  Gull showed up, just as I was about to take a bath.  He knew right away what had happened…but he said nothing.  He must've felt bad, but he didn't blame himself for not protecting me.  I didn't blame him for not being there.  There was no point, for, as I said, the deed was done.  He left without a word…I wondered if he was gone for good, as disgusted as I was about my carelessness.  I took a bath, and scrubbed myself clean…until the smell of them was gone from my body.  Gull returned a bit later, with small pouch. 

            "Take a pinch of this and swallow it."

            "Why?" I asked.  I was tired, and sore, and not really in the mood for games.

            "It will keep the seed from taking root inside you."  I looked at it, and then shook my head.

            "No, thanks.  I haven't had my…time yet, anyhow…so I should be fine…but if that's what the Earthmother wills, then so be it."  Gull growled at my response, and stalked the room like an irritated cat. 

            "That is a foolish answer.  If your Earthmother hadn't wanted the herb to be used, she wouldn't have created it."

            "All the same…" He growled again…raspy, like a bird trying to growl.

            "New training, starting tomorrow…afternoon," he gave her a reprieve, after giving her a quick once over.  "Don't be late."  He left, then...but not before I saw the sorrow and rage he was trying to hide in his eyes.  I didn't let on that I saw it... let him keep his illusions.

            The next day he began to teach me how to defend myself against male attackers with certain…acts on their minds.  With a bit of instruction, I learned how to use my body as a weapon, when I had no other weapons.  Fists, feet, and even my hair…Gull even showed me how I could use my long rope-like braid as a garrote if the situation called for it.  Eventually the story got around about the fate of the two northlanders…he laughed when he heard…I knew he was proud of me, for I'd given as "bad" as I'd gotten.  All the same…the two northlanders turned up dead by the docks a few days later.  I had my suspicions.

            Now, one would think that being raped would have turned me away from men completely.  True enough, I avoided everyone with a dangly part between their legs, except for Gull for about a year.  During that year, Gull gave me my first tattoo, a braided designs, in blue and green and red and purple, around my arm.  It had hurt like a bitch, but the end result was so pretty…something that no one could ever take away from me…I loved it.  I gave myself a few, practicing what Gull taught…similar designs on my ankles, and a butterfly, like the ones on Lady Emilia's box on my hip. 

It was during that year that "things" began to grow…I grew taller, my hair grew longer, my breasts grew from almost flat, to fairly large and uncomfortable in a matter of months, and small, red hairs grew in rather odd spots on my body.  My time started…a miserable bloody occurrence, once a month.  Lady Emilia had always told me it was a "special" moment in a girl's life…it was special all right...especially inconvenient and especially annoying.  It was about that time that I began to look at men again…in a new light.

My first real lover was a blacksmith's son…a large dark-haired boy about my age.  He knew a bit more than I did, and was all too happy to share his experience with me.  He showed me that sex could be fun…and very good when done right.   It didn't stop there, though.  Whenever Gull was away, or I had free time that wasn't being used for "money-collecting purposes", I was… "learning."  I can't even remember them all anymore…as a whole, they were human, but humans of every calling and station in life.  They were of varying ages, but all were rather good looking…or at least had "other" skills to recommend them. 

Merchants…nobles…farmers…blacksmiths…sailors…ffolk… northlanders…out-landers…I was like a magpie for men…anyone that caught my attention.  I eventually did take Gull up on his powder…but for the men to take, not me.  There was a similar powder for men to take that would keep them from "ruining" me…none of them seemed to mind my little stipulation, so long as it got them where they wanted to go…but I never forced them to take it…they always agreed on their own.  I refused to take the drug…just in case the effects would one day prove to be permanent.  Besides, I never did believe in messing with destiny…if that was what the Earthmother willed for me, than so be it.  Still, I hoped that someday, I would find someone I could love enough to stay with…I wouldn't be able to give him my virginity…dead and buried that it was…but I figured that at least I could give him a kid or two that would be all his.  And it's not that I didn't like kids, or even that I didn't want one…I just didn't want one while I was sixteen, with my whole life in front of me.

            Needless to say, then next two years were interesting.  I picked up a few more new skills…besides the ones I learned on my back!  I met a girl from a place called Calimport.  She claimed that the city was in a desert…a place where no plants grow.  I could hardly believe that such a place existed.  Anyhow, she taught me to dance…and I don't mean dance, like the snobby nobles from the court, with their waltzes and such.  She taught me how to dance!  It usually involved a great deal of semi-transparent scarves, and the rather…um …seductive removal of them.  She taught me how to dance with my daggers, as well, a terrifying, exciting rush of twirls with blades edges coming within inches of my skin.  I suppose I don't have to say that my dancing was certainly well accepted by my male… "friends." 

            I think that what I liked the most…besides the pleasure…was the power I felt.  I could make most men do what I wished, with hardly any effort.  I never abused that power, but just to feel it, and know it was there was enough.  It gave me a sense of control that I usual lacked, due to the turmoil in my life.

            Nothing lasts forever…especially not with me.  When I was eighteen, I learned the true nature of my "curse."  Yes, curse…for I am indeed cursed, and it is a terrible one…for me and most especially for those I love.

            Gull told me, one day, that he had to leave Caer Callidyrr for a while.  I begged to go with him, but he told me that it was better if I stayed.  All was fine enough for a few days, even despite my pouting.  Then, on the fourth night that Gull was gone, I felt a terrible sense of urgency.  I don't know why, or where it came from, only that I had to "go."  I grabbed up my things, and left…out the city and back the way I'd come from…the way Gull had gone. 

            It was near to an hour later when I found Gull.  He way lying by the edge of the road, not far from a smoldering fire.  There were signs of a struggle…a battle.  His short sword lay nearby, snapped in two.  I knelt beside him, in the moon-bright darkness. 

            "Gull!  Gull?…Alaric?!"  He awoke at my shaking him.  He seemed a bit dazed, but not harmed.  My heart slowed a bit from its racing pace.

            "Banshee?  What're ye doin' here?"  His words were slurred from their usual clipped sound.  He coughed...hard.  Wetness hit my arm, and I saw what was so wrong.  His blood was like a whore's paint on his lips…coming up, no doubt from some horrible wound within.  

            "Oh, goddess…you're hurt!" I exclaimed…stupidly.  I tired to tug him up.

            "Come…quickly now, I'll help you…we'll get you to a church…they'll make it better!"   He didn't rise, nor did he even try to.  He took hold of my shoulders, made me face him.

            "Lissen up, Banshee…'s mortal…"

            "…nooo…" I protested.

            "Shh…don' have lotta time left…Don' know how ye foun' me…glad though…don' wan' be 'lone when I go…was giants…two…din' see 'em comin'…'member to keep good watches, Banshee…wan' you to go to Waterdeep…don' shake yer head a' me girl…yer meant fer better'n these islands…ye could be great someday…take m'money and stuff…take everythin', fer I won' need anythin' when 'm dead…remember tha'…the dead don' need things...we get what we need in th' beyond…go t' Waterdeep…but don' tell no one ye knew me…'s not safe…got…enemies…hurt ye…know that ye knew me…'s dark ta'night…Banshee…look!…'s m' wife…Rissa…yer the girl me'n Rissa never had…luv…"  The rest of his words cut off as blood spilled out from his mouth, a fountain of death.  He struggled for another breath, but could not draw it.  I watched, numb, as he drowned in his own blood.  

            I had no one to curse…so I cursed Tempus…and death who rode at his side, a constant companion.  I could not cry…so I screamed…It was the scream of my headaches, coming from my throat in my lucid, waking hours.  The scream of a banshee.  In the depths of my despair, I realized the truth that I'd missed…that everyone around me had missed.  I was not possessed…I was cursed.  I was eighteen…six years with Gull.  When I was twelve, it was six years with Lady Emilia and Jael.  I was six…six years with my lost family.  My curse came in six year cycles.  I had six years…then those I loved would die.  Part of me wanted to know why.  What had I done to deserve this?  The Earthmother did not answer me, but though she held her silence hand in hand with my past…I could not turn from her.  Lady Emilia's teachings were still too strong in me.  But I realized at the moment that I must never rely on a god for anything…their whims were too fickle.  I grew silent after a while.  I reacted, but could not seem to manage to think.  I wanted vengeance.  I gathered up Gull's things…there wasn't much.  His bow was intact, and some arrows, so I took those.  The giants had taken everything else…I rose…and went to take it back.

            I'm no ranger, but I tracked them…hunted them with a single-minded fury.  Now even I know that hunting giants, with two daggers, and a dozen arrows is foolish, but I didn't see as how I had a choice.  I'd not had the chance to avenge the murders of my Lady Emilia, and my Jael…but by the hells…I would avenge my Gull.  I found them a while later…the moon was still high…full too.  They were around a fire.  Crude bandages patched them…Gull had apparently gotten a few hits in.  They were going through Gull's backpack...laughing.  Their natty red hair gleamed orange in the firelight. 

            The first arrow struck true, hitting one of the pair in the neck…not an instant kill, but a sure one if he didn't get help soon.  My next few shots weren't as good, and the one still functional traced their trajectory to where I was hiding.  No sense in being silent.  The sound rose in my throat as naturally as breathing. I jumped down the small incline, a let loose with an ear-piercing wail…steady and rising in its sharpness.  The giant clapped his meaty hands over his ears, and glanced about.  An echoing through the glade perhaps made it seem as though there were more than one of me.  I was happy to see that the …animal was frightened.  I slipped around him…sliced out his hamstring…then the tendon at his heel.  He stumbled and fell, fumbling for his weapon.  I slashed open his hands…stabbed at his neck.  He was badly wounded…by me and by Gull.  He rolled on his side.

            "Mercy!"  It shouted in the language of its kind.   I replied…in my head…my language…in Gull's words…

            No mercy for the wicked.

I slit its throat…a fount of blood gushed over my hands…hot and coppery.  His fellow joined him in the hells a moment later.

            I found it hard to believe I'd lived…even then.  A giant is no easy kill, and knights fall to them…but I had killed two.  It didn't seem enough.  I took back Gull's things…his backpack…his clothes, and coin.  There were no personal effects, for he had none.  There was mirror, though…tucked between two threadbare shirts in the bottom.  I'd never seen it before.  Had it been special to him?  Then I saw the engraving on the back…plain but simple, etched on the silver surface…Raine the Banshee.  It had been a present…for me.  :Of course: I thought.  My birthday had been approaching.  I wanted to thrown it away…I didn't deserve it.  I had killed Gull by caring for him.  I must truly have done something terrible to be so cursed…and the worst part was that I can't, to this day, figure out what it was to try to make amends.

            I buried him there…beneath a tree on the side of the road.  I was tired of burying people.  In the morning, I returned to Caer Callidyrr.  The day wasn't out before I heard the rumors among the city folk…they said that a strange wailing was heard throughout the night…the wail of a banshee.  Some feared it was a portent of doom…that disaster was coming to the Moonshaes, that death was approaching for a member of the royal family.  A banshee, they whispered to me…I nodded, and smiled, for it was always best to smile when you are at your worst…it confuses those who would harm you, hides a weakness beneath false facade.  A banshee, they whispered, and I agreed…a banshee, indeed.

            Gull hadn't had much money with him.  I didn't know if he'd hidden anything away, but if he had, I didn't bother to seek it out…let someone else find it.  There wasn't enough in his savings, and mine…pathetic as they were… to get a ship to the mainland.  So I put it away.  I would save up enough, and go, as he'd wanted.  There was nothing left to keep me in the Moonshaes anyhow…not even the Earthmother.  I did not turn from my goddess…but I confess, I was no longer anywhere near as devout as I once was.  I was beginning to lose faith…

            I don't remember too much of the two years that followed…just that there was steady supply of any beverage containing an alcoholic content.  I managed to save a bit, but anything extra went to the drink.  There were times I would wake up in places I didn't recognize, with people I had no memory of meeting.  I began to fear that my memory was failing again…that I would lose Lady Emilia, and Gull as I had lost my first family.  Fortunately, my friend "moonshine" kept my worries at bay with a rough "embrace."

            I do remember one morning…waking up to a vicious pain in my arm.  I was in an inn, on the island of Gwynneth, in the city of Caer Corwell, next to a naked, fair-haired outlander man, whom I could not remember for any trying.  On my arm, there was a tattoo…a masterpiece of color and pain.  It started at the tip of my middle finger, a spiraled up my arm to the shoulder.  Two intertwined threads of green and purple… the purple ink alone must've cost a fortune…but I found a full purse of gold beside me.   The outlander wasn't in much better condition, with a garish tattoo of a griffin across his chest, the tail of the griffin coiling down, and "curling" around a rather sensitive part of his anatomy.  It was nearly five days from the last day I could remember.  I managed to piece a bit together from the outlander, whose memory, even drunk, was not the block of holey cheese that mine was.  We'd met in a bar, and he'd admired my tattoos.  After a bet with a dwarf, which ended in him and myself consuming the better part of a shipment of dwarven ale from someplace on the mainland…I took him to a place to get a tattoo…too drunk to try it myself, apparently.  He couldn't remember much after that.  Some how we'd wound up here…he blushed prettily when I asked if we had…done the…uh…deed.  I wasn't dumb enough to think we hadn't, considering that if the man was cute enough, I was apt to allow him liberties…even when I'm sober.

            I made my way back to Alaron a day or so later.  It was difficult, but I managed to remain sober and avoid the bars for six months…long enough to get, not only coin enough, but a ride on ship to the mainland, willing to take me as a passenger…red-haired, and female that I am.   Unfortunately, it was headed only to a place called Baldur's Gate…a smaller city somewhat south of Waterdeep.  So, that summer, I bit farewell to the Moonshaes…my home for fourteen years. I said my good-byes to those I'd loved, wondering if they could hear me from the beyond.  I promised Gull that I would hold to my ideals…his ideals.  I promised Lady Emilia that I would try to become someone that she could be proud of…that all her teachings hadn't gone to waste in me.  And I made a promise to myself…I would be wary of my curse, and seek to find my redemption from it by helping those who could not help themselves…even if it meant risking my life to accomplish it.     I watched from the deck of the ship…kept my eyes on the misty shores until they faded from sight.  Then I turned to the east, and never looked back.   

            I started to write this journal while on board the ship to Baldur's Gate.  I still worry that I will someday lose my memories again…so I "borrowed" a black logbook from the ship's stores.  I began writing down everything I can recall from my early days, and I'm thinking that I might continue the trend.  Maybe, someday, it will be nice to look back and read the story of my life, as though it were a book.

            The sailors on the ship were nice enough fellows…they were fond of gambling, and I was fond of tricking them out of their money…though I confess I "lost" a great deal of it back to them.  I did win a sword from one…a cutlass that was much like the short sword that Gull had trained with me.  It fit nicely in my hand, and I liked the gentle curve of the thick blade.  I spent a good few hours with a few of the sailors, sparring with them, cutlass and dagger, for I'd always been able to use either hand with equal dexterity. 

            Baldur's Gate is a nice enough place, but small.  I saw many people of the races I'd only heard about…tiny halflings, bulbous-nosed gnomes…I'd seen dwarves before for there were clans of them on the Moonshaes.  I saw my first elf, as well.  She was a strange creature, with long, pointed ears, and indeed, eyes similar in shape as mine.  Much more delicate, and fair than most of the human women near her…the elf was not at all what I had expected, for the descriptions I'd heard of them while growing up had left me with a far different mental image.

            I found a ship to take me up to Waterdeep…it leaves within the week.

            On my way to Waterdeep…I found that my fellow passengers were intriguing in their diversity, their appearance.  I did not approach them, but watched from my place on the deck, where I found good sport, flirting with the sailors.  There is a half-orc fellow, with blue eyes and a line of spiky brown hair running down the middle of his otherwise bald head.  Despite his heritage, seemed an amiable enough fellow.  He helped out the deckhands, though never went too close to the edge without a large chunk of wood…he seems to be afraid of drowning.   

             A dwarven lass, short and stocky, with long auburn hair, a few shades darker, and a foot or two shorter than my own, calf-length braid, keeps mostly to herself, though I did see her speak with the half-orc a time or two.

            There is a taller young human, with immaculately groomed, shoulder length black hair and sky-blue eyes.  He's rather handsome, but for his manner, which belied him as some sort of nobleman.  He treated the crew like servants, and gave only the captain a modicum of respect.  I avoided him…time enough to pick fat pockets later, when there was good, solid ground beneath my feet.  Needless to say I was not overly happy about the whole sailing thing.

            There is a stooped over, dark skinned fellow, who was as bald as a hen's egg.  He seems rather shifty, and keeps to himself.

            Finally, a bouncy girl with platinum blond hair, green eyes, and an odd…glow about her skin ran about the ship…being generally bothersome to everyone.

            Two days, out, the sky is getting dark.  The captain came up to me and warned all the passengers to get below and batten down for a storm.  It's rather dark and smelly below…and I'd much rather be out in the storm, but I would probably be a hindrance.  So here I am.  Better stop now…the waves are really rough and it's getting hard to wri___

Dying if a funny thing…one minute, I'm trying to swim in the middle of a hurricane, after the hull of the boat was torn out from beneath me, doing my best impersonation of a fish…without the gills, though…and then very next I'm standing in some vast, open, gray space…Gull's "beyond," no doubt.  There were hundreds of people there with me…all milling about.  I recognized some of the people, passengers and crew from the boat.  No one seemed frightened even though it was obvious we were all dead.  Every few minutes a beautiful, unearthly creature would come down from…somewhere…and take a soul back with them.  Ironic that, even in death, people still have to wait before going on. 

            I wondered if one of the glowing people would take me away to…where ever followers of the Earthmother get to go, or would someone I know come for me, like Lady Emilia or Jael.  I thought that maybe I saw her approaching once, through the crowd, but before I could know for certain, some invisible force yanked me off my feet, and out of the gray place.  It seemed I'd only been there a few minutes.   A breath's span later, I awoke with a gasp, back in my mortal body, knowing that I'd not been dreaming…I had truly died, and someone in the living world had brought me back.  For a second I was angry…I had wanted to stay dead and be with the ones I'd loved in a place that they could not be taken from me again.  Thought and common sense prevailed.  I realized that they had all wanted me to live a whole life…Lady Emilia once told me that only those souls who are willing will come back to the call of a priest…So, in truth, I must've wanted to come back, or I would not be back. So I sat up, and looked around, wanting to know at the very least who had resurrected me.  I don't have the words to describe what it was like to be in my body again, after experiencing a few moments without it…the best I can manage, is that I felt heavier.  I looked around, and quickly realized that I was not alone, and that I had obviously been dead for more than a few minutes.  There were eleven others in the room with me…five I recognized as passengers from the ship.  Six were dead, still-smoking corpses.  They looked shriveled and crispy, as though all the fluid had evaporated from them in an instant.  There were gold medallions around their necks, one on each.  They'd probably been holy symbols at one time, but were now unrecognizable lumps…valuable only for the metal they were made of. 

            I felt a strange tingling on my arm, and looked down.  I had a new tattoo, it seemed…but there was something about it that was drastically wrong.  It was red, comprised of five symbols in a row running up the middle of my inner forearm.  The symbols seemed to glow, and twitch, as though they were alive.  The feeling was akin to having a wet caterpillar crawling on your skin… I was duly creeped out.  I could feel the powerful magic that had forged them, for what purpose, I could not comprehend.  I hated it on sight, and knew that I had to remove it…as soon as humanly possible. 

            I noticed that the others were all waking…took note of the other details of our shared surroundings.  We were each lying on a low stone altar, wearing the same clothing we'd been wearing when we'd died…though the clothes looked patched, and they were a bit worse for the wear.  At the foot of each altar were all our belongings…weapons, packs…everything.  I was glad to note that my harp, and box had not been ruined by the water…nor had the ink in this journal run, incidentally.  I quietly got up, and began to draw my few belongings back around me…sword to hip, daggers to boots…bow to back…you get the idea.  The others were all rising as well, and doing the same.  A few were quiet as they went about it, while the others, like the dwarf girl, were a bit more vocal in their questions, and ponderings.  Eventually, the more cordial of my fellow "revenants" introduced themselves.

 The red-haired dwarf girl was Kedra Torunn from the Citadel Abdar, in the north.  I nodded, though I had no idea what she was talking about.  The half-orc fellow was Guar…he seemed rather confused about the whole affair, and Kedra had a bit of a time trying to explain it all to him, seeing as he was a bit on the slow side.  The third was the glowing, bouncy girl…naive as Guar, it seemed.  Her name was Sinyalla. Looking at her, I was somewhat reminded of the beautiful glowing people from the beyond.  The other two were quieter…I'm being nice by saying quiet, though, for in reality, they were downright rude.  His Lordship…I mean Durand Huntsilver, a true-blooded noble, from a land called Cormyr, practically sneered at us "peasants" when we dared to question his nearly divine personage.  The other one, dark skinned and bald, was Saldenon…I don't really know what to think about him…just that he's more than a little creepy, and seems to go out of his way to make himself frightening looking and sounding.  So know I knew the characters, but the plot in this mystery is still unrevealed.

            We decided to head up the stairs in the room, which seemed to be the only way out.  It was not a collective decision, seeing as everyone was a bit surly about being dead…especially about learning how long we'd been dead.  You see, in each of our piles of belongings, there was one new thing…a letter…or, more appropriately: an invitation.  It was for a Shieldmeet festival that was being held by a Lord Ilmeth of Battledale.  It was dated, and the year was 1372…we'd died in the year 1370.  Even I found it hard to believe that two years had passed, when it seemed only a few moments…but I suppose that time moves differently when you're dead.

            The stairs came out in a ruined pile of stones that had once…a long time ago, mind you…been some sort of building.  There was no obvious road, or way out…just trees and forest, and a great deal of them. His Lordship took the initiative in the path.  Needless to say, with my attitude, and his, we were already not getting along.  He also seemed particularly miffed by my "robbing of the dead," as he put it, for I'd taken the melted gold medallions.  No sense in wasting.  He, being so very noble, and honorable, didn't see it that way, and I had no inclination to explain my reasoning to him.  Let him think what he would…it certainly wouldn't be the first time. 

            We traveled for a few hours, when we came upon a road.  There were a few travelers on it, who gladly explained that if we followed it, we would reach the town of Essembra, by the day's end.  We thanked them and continued.  There was a bit of a problem, when His Lordship tried to bribe a farmer into giving him a ride on his cart…apparently, he was too good to walk with the rest of us.  The farmer wanted more than the one gold coin Durand was willing to pay, for the wagon was very full, and Durand's weight would have slowed him down.  So Durand sneered at the man, and threw the coin at him, muttering something unpleasant about "peasants."  I got a little miffed and chastened His Lordship for his uncouth actions.  All I received for my efforts was a similar insult, and a warning not to speak to him again.  Fine…if that was how His Lordship wanted to play…I was game.  I wasn't about to let some pampered, over-spoilt brat best me…not on any field.  I'd show him "peasant"…I'd cram it down his throat so far that his spawn would be born wearing homespun! 

            To pass the time, Guar asked if anyone could sing.  I told him that I could play some music, and he practically begged me to do so.  He seemed to like the flute well enough, even though I'm certainly no bard.  He was fascinated by the harp, and smiled hugely when I let him pluck the strings.  He seemed surprised at the noise it made.  He complimented my playing, even though I'm not that good.  He asked about my tattoos, seemed impressed when I told him that I did some myself.  I think I'll be getting a request for an inking from him eventually…

            We came upon a large manor, a while later, with a wall around it.  The doors were locked, and the house looked rather shabby…almost abandoned.  There were people, however, in the courtyard.  One of the guards at the gate explained that Lord Ilmeth's would be holding his Shieldmeet festival in the courtyard in a few days.  We explained that we had invitations, and he advised us to go to the inn in town, and occupy ourselves until Shieldmeet.  We also learned that the house behind the courtyard was rumored to be haunted…and full of the belongings of a rich noble who'd lived there.  That interested me…Guar and Kedra as well.  We asked if we might take a look around inside.  The guard responded with an expression that suggested he thought us mad.  He said that no one who'd ever gone in, be they thief…he looked towards me, I returned with a cheeky wink, and a grin…or knight, had ever come out.  I say they just weren't good enough.  All the same he would not let us in, but added, once again to return at Shieldmeet, and he just might look the other way if we went near the manor.  We dragged Guar away after that, for he seemed about to come to blows with the guard. 

            Just before dusk fell, we arrived at the town.  It was a fairly large sized place, and we found an inn quickly enough…a likely place named the White Stag.  The innkeeper wanted a gold a room for the night…two people to a room.  His Lordship "graciously" offered to pay for everyone, except for me, of course.  Since we'd decided that I would be sharing a room with Kedra, who claimed that she did not snore, he wouldn't pay for her either.  Fortunately, Kedra was a fine figure of generosity and paid for both of us.  I thanked her, of course, still possessed of a few of the manners that my Lady had instilled in me. 

            It seemed that there was going to be a bard of some renown playing at the inn…a woman called Storm Silverhand.  So, with our dinner, we got to have some fine music.  Storm Silverhand was a rather exotic looking woman, with long silver hair…and very pretty, or so the expressions on the men of most of the room implied.  She had a harp with her of such beauty and masterwork, that I almost felt ashamed of my homely little harp, and hid it behind me, when Guar meant to point it out.  I love my harp, but not because it's beautiful.  The song Storm played was of some outlander history…but it was not the words, rather, the music and the way she sang that moved the listeners.  I noticed that many people in the audience seemed to be crying.  After the performance, His Lordship got up, and quickly hurried after Storm.  I had a few questions for the lady bard, and so I followed.  I caught up in time to hear Durand launch into small talk.  I didn't really have the patience for pleasantries at the moment, so I cut in on the conversation. 

            "If you don't mind, your Lordship, I need to ask the Lady here a few questions before you prattle on for the rest of the night."  Without waiting for an answer, I continued.

            "In my land, bards are far traveled, and often have much information…I assume the it is the same here.  I was wondering if, perhaps, in your travels, you might have seen anything to match the marks here."  I showed her my arm.  Durand muttered something about how he was about to ask her the same thing.  Too bad…you snooze, you lose.  She studied them for a moment, appearing puzzled.

            "Well, " she began in a cultured voice that put even His Lordship to shame.  "I recognize this one here."  She pointed to the clenched fist.  "This is a symbol of the dead god Bane."  She moved her finger to the last one.  "And this one is of the Eldureth Veluuthura…a rather secretive group of elves who are not…shall we say…fond of humans, and are often violent about showing their dislike.  But the others…I'm afraid I have not seen them before.  May I ask where you got them?"  I shrugged.

            "We woke up with them after being dead for two years.  My thanks for your information, Lady Storm," I added.  Then, leaving her with that little "gem," I headed back upstairs…not before picking the Lady's pocket.  If she was wealthy enough to afford a harp like that, and clothes such as she was wearing, she could afford to "lend" me a little.  I tucked the potion vial into my own pocket.  I'd try to find out what it was later.

The rest of the evening passed interestingly.  Everyone seemed inclined to bathe after eating.  I decided to wait until morning to give the poor innkeeper a break.  Sinyalla took one first, then Kedra proceeded to wash Guar, who was, I admit, filthy.  It was amusing to hear, for the half-orc kept complaining that the dwarf girl was scrubbing too hard, asking whether the soap was edible, and why he had to be clean, and to be careful, because that part was sensitive…I chuckled in my bed.  But I could not stay awake for the end; for I was rather tired…I guess being dead will do that to a body.  I was used to sleeping amidst all sorts of noise and such, so I fell asleep listening to Guar complain, and Kedra mothering him.

I had my dream again, though this time, my reflection looked a bit haggard, a bit relieved, but as usual, no matter how fast I was or how hard I tried, I could not touch the water in time, and thus could not regain whatever I'd lost that my reflection held.

The next morning was bright, and sunny.  Kedra, the very soul of kindness paid for breakfast for Guar and myself the next morning.  The food was good and filling, different from the usual fare I'd had in the Moonshaes.  About halfway through the meal, we heard the sound of someone hammering on the side of the inn.  Being of a curious nature, I went out with several of the others.  Someone had tacked up a piece of parchment.  On it, it read that Lord Ilmeth, obviously the same guy who was throwing the Shieldmeet bash, wanted some help in clearing out some kobolds and goblins. 

            Just then, there was a clap of thunder.  Instinctively, I looked up, expecting to see a brewing storm.  What I saw was far different.  High in the sky, and very far away, a scar seemed to open up.  It was unnatural, and wholly wrong feeling. Creatures of a monstrous nature began to pour out from the scar…horrible creatures reminding me of the stories that Jael would tell us of Bhaal and demons, to frighten us.  Lightning began to shoot from the scar, zapping the monsters, destroying them one by one.  The whole scene reeked on insanely powerful magic.  I walked back into the inn, seemingly calm.  I don't care much for magic that isn't of the godly variety.  There aren't a whole lot of wizards on the Moonshaes, and those that there are work for the king and queen.  So magic wasn't very common, and I'm not overly comfortable with it.  And magic on the level of that scar outside, and the tattoos made me a bit squeamish.  I figured that I would be safe enough inside…or at least oblivious if doom approached…yet again.

            It stopped after a few minutes, thankfully.  No one else in the group seemed to notice my lapse.  We agreed a while later, to go check out the goblin/kobold thing, since we had a few days to kill before Shieldmeet. Since there was a reward, and we were all a bit short on coin, it seemed like a good enough idea.  A citizen of the city pointed the way out to the Lord's house.  We arrived there, and, Durand, of course, demanded to see the Lord.  When the man at the door, fairly normal looking human fellow, wearing nice clothing, replied that he was the Lord, Durand almost seemed a bit contrite at his rudeness…almost.  We got the details from the man about the two jobs.  The kobolds were apparently holed up in the basement of a ruined house in the forest just outside of town.  He sent a few people down there, but no one had come back.  The goblins were in a cave about half a day's walk from town, and once again, were causing trouble that no one had been able to resolve as of yet.  Lord Ilmeth claimed that he needed both jobs done before the festival, and would pay well for the deed to be done.  Then he asked what skills we had.  In my usual flippant tone, I replied,           

            "We all have swords and armor, and none of it too pretty…why ask what skills we have, if we're willing to do the job?  It's not like you'll lose anything if we fail.  Besides, we've got him," I pointed to Guar, who grinned, and hefted his weapon. Kedra and Durand, of course, went on for a bit about how they were such great warriors.  I think I might have yawned.  In the end, the Lord gave us directions to both places.

            We sat around for a bit, discussing which one we should do first, when his Lordship made another of his famous comments.

            "I know.  Why don't myself and the other useful people go and deal with the goblins, while you, and that, " he gestured to Guar,  "go and take care of the goblins?  Perhaps you'll weaken them enough before you die, that it won't be much of a problem for us to come back and finish them off."  All delivered in a sarcastic sneering tone, covered with a thin veneer of politeness and gentility.  And they call me rude…I was almost ready to take on the challenge just to show the snot-nosed, little upstart that his little barbs didn't bother me…much.  Guar seemed confused.                                                         

"His Lordship doesn't like you because you're a half-orc, Guar, and he doesn't like me because I'm a "thief," and a peasant, and I see through his shit," I added the last with a deceptively sweet smile.  "But if that's what Durand wants, then perhaps we should oblige him."  I said his name with a seductive tone, which I think irritated him even more than it would've had I said it like a curse.  Fortunately, before I was able to expound further on His Lordship's idiocy, Saldenon popped up, as the surprising voice of reason.  In his hissy voice, he said,

            "Why don't we all go together, to the kobolds and then the goblins, and not split our strength."  He sounded a bit irritated.  Everyone agreed, even His Lordship, who looked a bit pouty that his attempt to rid himself of the "peasant," and the "barbarian," had failed. 

            Since we had the whole day, the kobolds, were only an hour away, we headed out.  As we approached the area where it was supposed to be, I stopped, and made the others do so as well. 

            "Hold on.  The Lord called this place a deathtrap.  A trap implies that we shouldn't charge in." I said.                       

            "So why don't you go check it out," Saldenon suggested.  I nodded, ignoring his blatant sarcastic voice.  I intended to drive him nuts by acting as though he was an actual nice person, and not the monster he was trying so very hard to be.  As I moved off, Sinyalla asked if she could come.

            "Only if you can be quiet," I said.  She nodded.  We got up to the edge of the overgrown path we were on, and peered out through the trees.  Near a dark hole in the foundation of a crumbled ruin of a house, there were five kobolds, chattering away to each other.  I got an idea, and gestured Sinyalla back.  About 15 feet in, I set a line trap across the path, between two trees, tight and well hidden.  The goblins wouldn't even see it.  Then we went back for the others.  I explained to them that I'd set a trap…that the kobolds would chase me, and trip over the line.  After that, the party could hack the off- balance kobolds to pieces.  They agreed with the plan and moved forward, hiding themselves in the woods along the path.   I ran up to piss off the kobolds.  With a cocky swagger, I stepped out onto the path, where they could see me.  I gave a whistle, grinned and waved.

            "Hey boys!  Your mother was a rat!"  They squeaked angrily and picked up their weapons, and, as predicted, came running.  I bolted back, and leapt over the trap.  It worked well; the first one went down heavily.  The party was on them in a second, and a few moments later, all five were no longer counted among the living. 

            We went up to the entrance, and Sinyalla promptly headed down into the darkness.  I was going to warn her to be wary of traps, but she found that out soon enough, as she bolted back up, with and "eep" and a blossoming bruise on her face.  The trap was, apparently, of the living variety, though, for there was a low growl from within.  Like lemmings, most of the party charged down the stairs to attack.  I followed at a slightly more leisurely pace.  There proved to be a few lizard men at the bottom, which we dispatched rather efficiently. 

            I won't bore you with the details of the "dungeon," as it was rather large, and convoluted considering it had merely been a basement at one point.  I deduced that it must have been the basement of some noble's house, considering how ostentation it was.  The upshot of the whole thing was that we took out the kobolds with relative ease, but got our asses pounded by the ogre who seemed to be in charge of them.  Kedra and Guar were both hurt to unconsciousness during the battle, which His Lordship was conspicuously absent from.  We did mange to defeat the rotten thing, and I revived the dwarflette and the orc-boy with a pair of potions we'd found in one of the room.  I'd hazarded a guess that they were healing potions, judging by the smell and taste…hey…I was raised in a church…there's some things that even I haven't forgotten yet.  His Lordship came rushing in at the very end of the battle, and took a swing or two, apparently trying to pretend he'd been there the whole time.  I don't know what irritated me more…the fact that he hadn't been there to help, or the fact that he'd been scouting out other rooms, and probably "appropriating" things without the rest of us.  Greedy pig.  Trust a noble to act all noble, and turn around and be the biggest thief of them all. 

            We got a bit lost wandering around, since the place was set up a bit like a maze, with doors connecting to hallways connecting to other doors, and then leading back to the first.  Makes my head hurt to think about it. I had a close call with a poisoned needle trap that, fortunately, malfunctioned.  And, come to think of it, there was an amusing incident involving Guar, and His Lordship.  In one of the rooms, we came upon a wall that the kobolds had been "decorating."  One of the  "pictures" on there seemed to represent a kobold god…I shudder to imagine such a possibility…a divine kobold.  Guar either had to relieve himself most suddenly, or felt the sudden urge to deface a "holy" place.  Without warning, he dropped his drawers and let fly a stream at the wall.  Saldenon and His Lordship both seemed less than amused at the prospect of watching our comrade relieve himself in front of them.  They picked up a few small stones, and chucked them at Guar to show their unhappiness.  This proved to be a less then intelligent idea, for the half-orc took their displeasure as a sign that they wanted his immediate attention, so he spun around, piss still dripping from the tip.  I do believe that Saldenon and Durand meant to open up with another volley, this time with the intention to hurt, but my sudden outburst halted them.

            "Ho-ly shit!" I exclaimed, my eyes looking down at the one spot on Guar that everyone else's were avoiding.  I couldn't help it; really…I have so few manners when it comes to something like that.  I won't give exact measurements…but suffice to say that Guar was bigger below than any normal person had a right to be. 

            "Maybe that's why half-orcs continue to exist…" I mused out loud.  I don't know if the party members were more appalled at me or at Guar.  I couldn't help it…I had to needle Durand.

            "So Your Lordship," I eyed him doubtfully.  "Do you compare?"   It took him a moment…just long enough that I knew he had to think.  In his best noble voice, he replied,

            "In everyway."  I seriously doubted it…and if he did, well then it was a pity, seeing as he was such a jerk. It was too bad that, as far as the rest of him went, Guar had been rather unfortunate in the looks department; otherwise it might have been worth the pain that would've been cause trying to see if his…monstrosity would have fit.  In fact, it really was unfortunate about all the men in the party.  As I'd remarked to Kedra the previous night, it seemed wholly unfair, waking up to be bound with three men (I mean bound by our common tattoo) two of which who had been most unfortunate when it came to looks, while Durand had the looks but lacked any degree of charm or personality to make him seem decent.  Just my luck.

            I did take one rather bad wound while we were finishing cleaning out the pests.  To my utter surprise, his Lordship came over to bandage me.  I really can't help myself sometimes…it's such a dreadful failing in me…The wound was on my leg, so, His Lordship had to roll up my pants, to bandage it.

            "Mmmm…your Lordship…getting rather familiar, aren't we?  We may have to take this to another room if you keep it up!"  Durand shot me a disgusted wound, and tied off the bandage with a vicious jerk.  He "accidentally" prodded my wound, rather painfully.

            "Not if you were the last woman on Toril," he muttered. 

            "Owww!  Well, I know when I've been rejected…sigh…I guess I'll just have to go out with Saldenon," I turned to the odd man, and gave him a flirtatious wink.  He actually looked flustered…or at least the hood shrouding his eyes did.

            It only took about two hours to finish up.  I sliced off the kobold's ears and strung them on a string to bring back to Lord Ilmeth, when Saldenon brought up the prospect of being asked to have proof. 

            We went back to town, looking and feeling, I admit, more than a little beat up.  Hells, we looked worse the only losers in a twenty-man bar fight.  Sad, really.  So as soon as we hit town, most of us split up to go get healed up a bit by some clerics, seeing as the kobolds had had a fair bit of gold down there with them…more than we were going to get paid for clearing them out, anyhow.  All in all, it had been a very profitable venture.  Kedra and Guar headed a temple to Tempus, called the Abbey of the Sword.  There was no way in the hells I was going to ask any priest of Tempus for help.  I went down the other church in town, dedicated to some outlander god called Gond.  The priests in there were all too happy to help when I showed them my wounds and coins.  I thought to ask them if them had any Cassil, the powder that I had my "partners" use, since I didn't think that my supply would be any good after two years.  But, of course, I thought better of it.  I didn't really trust the church of this outlander "god of creating weird stuff," to make the powder right, anymore than I trusted the clerics of Tempus to heal me.  I'd have to wait until I found a church to the Earthmother, or at least some outlander god that knew more of herbs and their uses.  Until then, I'd be careful, and take my chances should such a situation arrive. 

            We met up again at Lord Ilmeth's home.  He seemed surprised to see us back so soon, and more surprised when we handed over the string of kobold ears…not at the ears, but because we'd accomplished the task so quickly, I assumed.  He paid us 20 gold each…not great, but not bad either.  We stopped to have lunch, and someone came up with the brilliant idea to head out to deal with the goblins straightaway…with no nap, even!  Kedra protested, but was out voiced.  We left a while later, and it was dark by the time we reached the area where the goblins were supposed to be.  Durand wanted to go in and fight them then, but I didn't agree.  I voiced my suspicions that goblins could fight well at night, and Kedra supported it.  Saldenon agreed as well.  So, overriding His Lordship, we camped down for the night.  If we'd stayed in town, damnit, we could've slept in a nice, soft bed…but oh…no…

            Rather early the next morning, we rose and went out to do battle.  Once again, I scouted ahead, with Sinyalla, odd little thing that she was.  There were a few goblins stationed at the mouth of the cave, and I thought to use the same trap from the day before, but before I could even voice my opinion, His Lordship took matters into hiss own hands.  Without any warning to anyone, he strode out of the woods, sword drawn, and drew the goblins attention.  Idiot!!  The goblins, naturally, saw him and charged.  When the rest of the party saw the goblins attacking, they ran out, weapons drawn as well.  So much for stealth.  With all the yelling going on so close to the cave, the others, within were certain to be prepared for a fight when we entered.  I took my time walking out of the woods, hoping that His Lordship was take some wound for his foolishness, and determined not to offer any help unless the situation proved dire.  He didn't even get nicked…just to spite me.

            The goblins were more than a bit harder than the kobolds, being bigger, a tad smarter, and able to take more punishment.  There were about 3 caves with 8 or more goblins to a cave, the last one with two larger hobgoblins leading them.  By the time we'd gotten to the third cave most of us were already hurting.  I'd had to revive Kedra, once more; using the potion I'd lifted off of Storm.  It, too, was a healing potion.  In the third cave, Guar began to rage, like a northman, calling out Tempus as he flew into a fury of attacking power.  Greeeaatt…a northman…and an actual follower of Tempus…now I knew where the lack of intelligence spawned from.  All that aside, as I began to attack again, I felt a scream rise in my chest, and released it…blood curdling, and ear splitting, just as it had been on the night Gull died.  The shrill sound seemed to stun the hobgoblins I was facing, and gave me a better shot on it.  For the rest of the battle, and into the next one, with more goblins, and a few bugbears, I continued to scream as I attacked, living up to my name.  The screaming helped more than a little, and kept me from taking any further damage, which was pretty good, since I knew that it was only the rush of battle and sheer stubbornness that was keeping me standing.  Somehow, we managed to clear out the caves with no one dying, except those that we were killing.  I'd only had a taste of battle before, that once with the giants…and a street fight or two, until yesterday, and today.  I hate to say it, but I liked killing…monsters, at least.  I felt that same rush of power that I had when having sex…like I was in control of something.  I was fighting evil, for goblins and kobolds were nothing but… just as I'd promised.  I was beginning to make amends for my sins, and perhaps someday, when I've done enough, my curse will be lifted.  I don't know if this is what Gull wanted me to do with my life, but I was beginning to get a sense of purpose again, and I like that.  Every goblin I cut down, I knew, was one less goblin that would go out and hurt some innocent farmer, or child, who could not protect themselves.  It felt damn good, indeed.

            After all the battling was done, the caves were cleared, and we'd gathered up all of the goblins' ill gotten gains…ours now. I, along with most of the rest of the party, wounded as we were, went to sleep.  

            Rather early the next morning, we headed back into town.  Our first stop was to Lord Ilmeth's house to pick up our reward, another 20 gold each.  Durand refused his, so we each got a little more.  Idiot.  Everyone went off to get healed, except for Saldenon and myself.  Saldenon seemed to scorn the idea of going to get healed, and I didn't really think mine were dire enough to require me spending money to fix them.  Sure, I'd be a bit uncomfortable for a couple of days, but they'd heal.  I took a bath, and promptly went back to sleep. 

            Later in the day, when everyone was back, around dinner, we heard that there was going to be a series of contests the day before Shieldmeet, just before the festival.  Prizes for the winners would be given out at the festival itself.  We all collectively agreed that entering the contest would be a good idea, and maybe fun as well.  Guar wasn't going to enter, since "it wasn't fair, since he was so much bigger, " as he put it.  But, I managed to convince him that the "weaker" people would need a "superior" person to test themselves against, and ideal to look up to, if you will.  It worked…good thing too, since I had plans for the half-orc.  We spent the next few days relaxing and practicing.  I managed to find the "bet-taker."  I, and surprisingly enough, most of the rest of the party began to place bets on the contests.  The bulk of my money went on Guar, who'd entered the strength and foot race contests.  The odds were good, and I was certain that he would win.  I entered the archery contests, knife throwing, performing, climbing, and the footrace.  The latter was not to win, but to keep others from winning, should it look like Guar might be having trouble.  I bet on a few of the others as well, including his Lordship…why the hells not…he could conceivably win.

            The contests took place over the course of the entire day.  As expected, Guar won both his contests, making me a bundle of money.  I have to admit, though, it was rather impressive when he lifted a tree trunk the size of a ship's mast, and held it over his head with little effort.  No one even came close to him.  Saldenon and Sinyalla had entered every contest there was, even, though they certainly didn't have the skills to compete with most of the people there.  I laughed, quite loudly, when Sinyalla was knocked of her horse in less than a moment in the jousts.  Kedra didn't do so well, and I lost money on her when she lost the hammer-throwing contest.  I thought for certain that she would win it, being a dwarf.  Surprisingly enough, I placed in a few of the contest.  I came in second in climbing and the swordplay, although I hardly think that I earned the latter, since my two opponents were Sinyalla and Saldenon, and while they had luck, I'm better.  I felt rather bad when I accidentally knocked Sinyalla out, when she ran into the flat of my blade, rather than dodging it.  I won the archery contest by a narrow margin, and I won the performance contest as well, for a tune I played on my flute.  I laughed at Saldenon's performance, as did everyone else.  I'm certain that he was just being sarcastic, but everyone else seemed to love his "parody of a wizard." All he did was magically lift 4 stones in the air, wave his hands, say "oohh!  Impressive!  4 floating rocks!"  Then he clapped his hands, and darkness appeared where he stood.  I was surprised when he placed second.  My "goodwill" towards his Lordship by betting on him obviously hadn't redeemed me any in his eyes, for he actually tried to intimidate the judges into turning their decision against me.  It didn't work, of course.  One of the judges was Lady Storm.  Either she hadn't realized who I was, or didn't know that I'd stolen from her, since she voted for me as well.

            The next day, we returned to the manor where the Shieldmeet festival was being held, our winnings from the reluctant and unhappy bet-taker in our bags.  The place now resembled a festival, combined with an open-air market.  There were all sorts of booths and tables set up, and people selling all manner of goods.  We all split up to wander around.  I left Guar and Kedra at the table set up by the priests of Tempus, Guar happily conversing with a priest, who seemed to know him.  I ran across a booth full of red robed wizards, with shaved heads, and lots of tattoos.  I pestered them for a bit, mostly about ink colors, and designs.  They put up with me with the air of any merchant: buy something or shut up.  They did have some rather nice inks…colors I'd never seen, or at least, never been able to produce, so I bought a few vials, and left them alone.  They weren't very friendly, anyhow, and as wizards, I was a bit uncomfortable with them, anyhow.

 Then I saw a temple stand with a familiar symbol on it.  Intrigued, I strode up, and caught the attention of a rather cute, human priest.  I decided to buy something first, to butter them up for my questions.  Besides, it was something I needed, anyhow.                                              

            "Do you have any powdered cassil?"  I asked him.  The priest seemed a bit startled.

            "Um…of course, but wouldn't you be wanting some nararoot instead?"  He named the herb that Gull had wanted me to take after my "encounter" with the northmen.  I shook my head, and smiled.

            "Nope.  Cassil, if you please…at least twenty doses. And don't worry…it's not for me."  I winked at him.  He blushed, adorably, then measured out the asked-for amount, dumped it into a little sack, and handed it over.  I dropped twenty coins onto the table.  Not willing to leave just yet, I continued.

              "I didn't know that the Earthmother's religion had spread so far," I commented to him.  He seemed a bit confused.

            "The Earthmother?  You mean Chauntea?  Well, we've always been well-established here in the Dalelands." 

            "No, I meant the Earthmother.  That is her symbol you're wearing…a bit outdated though."  I pointed to my belt buckle, which was engraved with the Earthmother's symbol…a red rose over a field of wheat.  His was an older version, a red rose on a sunburst.  See, my Lady Emilia? I do remember some of what you taught me. 

            The priest explained that the Earthmother goddess was different side of the goddess Chauntea…that they were, in truth, the same goddess.  I though that, maybe, Lady Emilia or Jael might've mentioned something similar once, but my memory, as always, failed me beyond that.  We sat down behind the booth, while another priest sold stuff for a while.  I took a better look at him.  At a little over 6 feet tall, he was definitely taller than me…exactly the height I liked best.  He had warm, brown eyes, and shaggy, brown hair with sun-streaks of gold.  Like Gull, and myself I saw a bit of "not-quite-humaness" around his eyes.  On the left side of his face, along the lower cheek and jaw line, he had a few long, scars running down into the collar of his robe.  I wanted to ask more about them, but decided to wait for later.  I explained to him that I was new to the Dalelands, originally from the Moonshaes.  He told me that he'd heard of the islands, but never been outside of the Dales.  I gave him a bit of a rundown on the past week or so, explaining the whole "dead" thing, then asked him about the tattoos.  He had no ideas about the tattoo, and recognized none of the symbol, save for the "Bane" one. 

Now, I admit, as I watched him, I was attracted.  And after all, it had been two years, technically…so I decided, that if he was willing…and he certainly looked it, with his wide smiles…I would have to get to "know" him better.  With my best flirtatious smile, and voice, I asked him if he would tell me more of the "outlander" gods, so that I would not appear so ignorant.  Naturally, he agreed.  He said that after the festival was over, I could find him at a temple called the Abbey of the Golden Sheaf, which was just across the river from Ashabenford, which, in turn, was only about 7 miles from Essembra, where we were currently staying.  I told him my name in my best, "aren't-I-cute, and so-obviously-interested" tone.  He replied that he was Andar Hawklight, and very pleased to meet me.   He'll no doubt prove to be an easy conquest when we meet again.

            A little after noon, there was a small ceremony for the winners of the contests, in which Lord Ilmeth gave us our prizes.  I ended up with a very nice bow for winning the archery contest…much better than Gull's old one, which had seen better days when he was still using it himself.  I got a carved wooden harp, with ivory and zircon stones inlaid in it for performance.  It was beautiful, and the strings perfectly in tone.  I knew that I would save it…but only to use when I wanted to impress people, or maybe just myself.  Otherwise, I would still keep Lady Emilia's harp, for it was dearer to me than the new one, for all that the new one was more expensive and pretty.  I also got a set of climbing gloves for winning the climbing contest, and a rather gaudy, but expensive mask from placing second in the swordplay contest.  I sold the latter for a pretty penny, as I had no conceivable use for it. 

            We were all gathered together after the ceremony, talking about our prizes, when "it" happened.  A man rode in to the festival, and up to Lord Ilmeth.  They obviously knew each other…but that's not what surprised me…the odd thing was that I knew him, even though I know I've never seen him before.  His name was Randle Morn, the leader of Daggerdale, who'd recently retaken Dagger Falls from the Zhentarim.  And I don't, on my life, know how I knew all that.  Before I had time to think about it…the tattoo on my arm began to blaze, and writhe as though it were living fire contained just below my skin.  The agony that shot up my arm was worse than anything I can remember feeling.  It hurt so much that I expected to look down and see that someone had spilled acid on my skin…that someone was running a serrated knife down my arm.  But I found that I could not look down, and with a shock, found that I was no longer in control of my body!  No matter how hard I tried, I could not force my body to do the slightest thing…not even blink.  I would've though that I would've screamed in pain, but I couldn't make any sound.  So I became a watcher in my own life, as the awful magic in the tattoos controlled my body as though I were some sort of mummer's puppet.  I knew that it was affecting the others, as well, for they'd gone silent…their eyes blank, faces grim…tattoos burning…  We pushed though the crowd, knocking people aside who were in our way.  Against my will, I slipped my cutlass from the sheath at my side…or rather, whoever was controlling me did so.  I saw that the other's had drawn weapons as well.  I screamed within, trying to stop my body…but there was nothing I could do.  We launched forward from the edge of the crowd, together and silent…as a true party should be.  We charged at Randle Morn, the man's eyes widening, as we attacked him. 

            Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, we failed in the assassination attempt.  Guards moved to block us…a silver-haired woman ran up to help them…she looked a lot like Lady Storm I noted, just before the flat of her blade connected with my head and I fell into grateful unconsciousness. 

            I awoke in a cell alongside the others, who all looked bruised and beaten, but not dead.  All of our stuff was gone, of course, though I could see it on a table beyond the bars. There three guards at the front of the cell, beyond the bars, watching us nervously.  When they saw that we were stirring, one of them ran off.  He returned a moment later, with the silver haired woman who'd defeated us, in tow.  She entered the cell, the guards flanking her.   She did not seem nervous, only curious…confused maybe.

            "Lord Morn escaped…though, needless to say, he was rather upset," she said without preamble.  I was relieved about that, anyhow…though our current situation left little to be desired.

            "My name is Dove Falconhand.  Perhaps you'd like to explain what just went on," she continued.            The others were silent…probably still in shock.

            "I don't suppose you'd believe us if I said that we didn't do it…that we had no control over our actions?" I muttered.  She raised an eyebrow.

            "Try me."

            "Our tattoos, " I showed her.  "When that guy showed up, mine began to burn…didn't yours?"  I asked the others.  Most of them nodded, or mumbled their agreement, except for his Lordship, who lied, and said no, for some reason I couldn't fathom.  Dickhead. 

            "Then…it was like someone pushed us out, and took control of our bodies.  There was nothing we could do to stop what was happening.  Hells, we only got here a few days ago…why would we want to kill some Lord?  Especially after we just won all those contests and such?  There's some sort of magic in the tattoos, I think.  We don't know who put them there, only that when we woke up, after being brought back from the dead, there they were.  We don't know how we got here, or why, only that we all died two years ago in a storm off the coast of Waterdeep.  You can ask around.  People know that we've been asking about the tattoos.  We've asked at a couple of churches. And we asked Lady Storm…she looks a lot like you."  I explained.  Dove nodded.

            "That's because she's my sister.  And I know that you've been asking around…that's why this whole affair is so confusing…but strangely enough, it is not unfamiliar.  I've heard tell of a similar incident that happened a while back…involving a woman named Alias.  She had similar tattoos on her arm, with strange powers.  Though, I do not know how she came by them, or how she finally got rid of them.  I do recognize the symbol of Bane, of course, though he is said to be a dead god…" Gods could die?  The concept was laughable.

"…And the top symbol is that of the People of Black Blood…an order of rather…dark druids…but other than that, I'm afraid there is nothing more I can tell you." Fat lot of help that was...another symbol named, but no closer to who the people were than before.  Maybe this Alias character was still alive somewhere, and could give us some information…namely who'd done this to us and how we could get rid of it.

            "I have a proposition for you.  Lord Ilmeth has agreed to release you, since all watching could tell that there was magic at work, and since it seems that there is something more going on here than the surface would indicate.  However…" I knew it!  There's always a "however"… 

            "We would like you to check something out for us.  There is something strange going on in Galath's Roost.  The nearby village of Glen and outlying farmers have become the target of raids.  Some think it's the drow doing it, but the drow attacks are usually more sporadic.  These attacks are more regular.  Someone has taken up residence in the ruined castle of Galath's Roost.  We'd like you to check out and see what is going on there."  I had a few questions, and voiced them.

            "Why would you trust us to do anything, since it's obvious that we're not completely in control of our own bodies?"

            "Because you did well in helping Lord Ilmeth with the other problems, and showed no sign of aggression until Lord Morn appeared.  Since Lord Morn has returned to Daggerdale, we feel that there probably won't be any problems."  I could almost hear the underlying "or else."  I supposed it was a fair enough answer.  I recognized several things about the "request" right away, though.  One, it was probably not a "request," and if we refused, I doubted we would've left that cell.  Two, it was most certainly a test of sorts…do this and do it well, and we won't hang you for what you did, willing or not.  And, three…we were expendable…why send valuable, trained guards to deal with an apparently dangerous problem when you can send adventurers to do it for you.  If we succeeded, the problem was ended, and if we failed, they lost nothing.  It was a win-win situation for the "government."   I hate leaders…

            So we agreed.  Like I said, there wasn't much of a choice.  I had no intention of sitting in a dungeon and rotting…although, had worst come to worst, they'd missed lock picks in my hair…there was always an escape, as Gull would say.  Our things were returned to us, including all of our money.  I was surprised at the last.  We were given directions to Galath's Roost, and then we ran into our second problem.  Since it was a few miles away, they wanted to give us horses to ride.  I shudder just thinking about it.  I don't like horses…I don't even like men built like horses…well…maybe one part of them…Anyhow, horses scare me.  Yeah, I know…me scared of horses…this is a joke right?  Nope.  I just don't like the damned things.  Oh sure, they're nice enough, as long you're all on the same level…then, they're kind of like big dogs.  But once you're up on them, you've lost control of your fate.  If the damned horse wants to go left, by the goddess, it goes left.  If it wants you off, then no amount of trying on your part will keep you on its back.  No…horses and I got along fine, so long as we maintained our distance.  Besides, feet were made for walking, and horses were made to help plough the fields.  Those were are the arguments I put forth to the others, save for the fact that I'm afraid of horses.  I even admitted that I couldn't ride.  His Lordship however, would not hear of walking.  Apparently, his feet are too noble to be forced to walk on the solid ground.  The others didn't seem to mind much…even the dwarf, and I knew for a fact that dwarves and horses were supposed to be as close to arch-nemeses as it gets.  But I was adamant.  As it stood now, my life was not my own, and I had less control over it than ever before, and I would be damned if they were going to force me to ride a horse!  So we ended up with a wagon, pulled by horses.  It wasn't so bad, since I could sit on the edge of the cart at the back, and jump off if it looked like the horses were going to pull something funny.  No don't get me wrong, I like animals…it's just that, horses can be so…vindictive.  I think they plan their assault with care and precision for maximum amusement on their part, and maximum embarrassment on mine.

            I hated this…hated all of it.  It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.  Why does shit like this always have to happen to me?!  I'm beginning to think that I'll never be in control of my life, and it's making me mad…in every sense of the word.  First the curse…that rotten, awful, dreaded curse…I would never be able to love or let anyone love me in return until it was lifted…I could not allow myself to go through that pain again.  Gull and, Lady Emilia, and Jael had loved me…and told me so in a thousand ways…and I repaid them with deaths so awful it hurts me to think of it.   Then there was the headaches…they came without warning, for no apparent reason…incapacitating me for hours and days at a time. I'd gone without one for a while…before I'd died, anyhow…but there was no schedule for them.  Another could come on me in any instant…and I doubt that I'll be able to hide it from the others.  I don't know what they'll do when they find out…maybe kill me to put me out of my "misery."   No Gull or Emilia to keep it hidden anymore…and since I can't get rid of them until I can get rid of the tattoo…I just don't know what I'll do…besides suffer, that is.  And now this…this damnable tattoo and new curse…my will was no longer my own…now a puppet to someone else.  Yanked from death itself, to serve a faceless master…a slave with no apparent escape.  I wanted to kill…the urge in me was as strong as the turning tide…crashing against my very bones like the waves.  I would find who'd done this to me…and kill them.  Nothing fancy…no…just death.  And if I find that there is no escape from this curse, I will seek out my own death…I'd rather be dead than caught in yet another curse.  It wasn't fair…I was so close…perhaps Lady Emilia would've arrived for me the next minutes… but oh no!  Here I stand, ranting in a book, through ink.  I hate myself sometimes.  Sometimes I wish that the Lady had let me die that Eleint…my birthday… 

It's not FAIR!!  Why can't I ever just be normal?!

            It occurred to me a while later that I didn't know what "drow" were.  So I asked Kedra about them, being that she was much more pleasant than anyone else who might've known, had I asked.  When she told me that drow were dark-skinned, evil elves, I laughed, for I'd never heard of an evil elf.  My concept of elves was mostly that they were woodsy creatures, much like druids, only with pointy ears.  The idea of an evil elf was foreign to me, though I conceded that one such elf could possibly exist.  When Kedra told me that the whole race was evil, I told her that there was no such thing as an evil race, only evil individuals.  She insisted that they were though, until I told her that while I'd heard of evil humans, and dwarves, I'd never heard of evil elves, and would not kill any of these "drow" until they proved to be evil by my own judgment, and their own actions.  She seemed upset at my answer, but replied that if it were drow, I would "see."  I admit that there are some races where good is very hard to find, for instance orcs and goblins and…giants…but obviously good did exist…Guar was good and him being half of a race known for evil. 

            We left as soon as we got out…a little beat up, but nothing critical, and headed for Galath's Roost straight away.  I wondered if Andar had been there when we'd "attacked" the other Lord.  If he had, I'm sure that he won't be so nice to me when I see again.  Sigh.  And I liked him, too…  I would see him again, for I had a few ideas on the tattoos, and the whole attack thing.  They'd occurred to me while I was holding on for dear life in the back of that wagon.  I thought about the six bodies that had been in the room with us.  What if the ritual they'd obviously used on us had meant for them to die?  I remembered what the people had said about me…about possession.  What if somehow, their souls had been bound in our bodies alongside our own?  It would explain how we lost control, and someone else seemed to take over…but it was a question for the priests…and whatever he now thought of me, I meant to ask a priest of the Earthmother that I knew, rather than a priest of an outlander god, that I didn't.  My second idea was that the tattoos were obviously magical in nature, and therefore, perhaps magic could undo them.  But I would need to find a wizard to learn the answer to that theory…and I meant to find one, one way or another, and convince him or her to help me…any way I could.

By nightfall, we stopped to camp, hardly more than a few miles away from the village.  I took a first watch, and went to sleep after, leaving Guar and His Lordship awake.  It hardly seemed more than a few hours, when I was woken again by Guar's bellowing.  I sat up, and fumbled for my weapon, just in time to see Guar drop two unconscious forms onto the ground near the fire, and Sinyalla tie them up.  Durand patched them up a bit.  Guar promptly fell asleep, indicating that he'd gone into one of his berserker rages. 

            "…We'll take them into town tomorrow to turn them in…. they're worth more alive," I heard Durand say…remembered that Dove had mentioned something about how any bandit involved in the raiding was worth 100 gold alive, and only 25 dead.  Curious, I got up, and went over to see what was going on. 

            "I think we should wake them and question them first," Kedra voiced her opinion.  "They may know more about what's going on."  I took a look at the prisoners…both had skin as dark as ebony gems…or a starless night…and pointed ears.  So these were Kedra's drow.  Both were male, and though they were a little beat up, they were gorgeous.  I noticed them wake up.  Kedra began to ask them questions about what was going on at the 'Roost, even as Durand threatened them, and kicked at them.  I really did try to keep my mouth shut, but as more of their story came out, I felt a bit of pity for the two handsome creatures, and my honor demanded that I defend fellow thieves.  The drow claimed that they weren't involved in the raids, and that they were being set up to take the blame.  The raids were being done by raiders who rode horses from place to place, and dismounted for the attacks.  The drow never used horses, the more talkative of the two claimed.  When asked why they attacked, the two shrugged and replied that the raiders had killed all their fellows, and taken their leader, a woman named Gwenect, as a prisoner.  They figured that she, too, was probably dead by now.  Seeing as they had no money, and we looked to have some, they claimed that they meant to knock out the two guards…Guar and Durand, and then rob us.  Durand screamed that they'd tried to kill him, brandishing the arrow wound on his arm like a flag.  He said that no one used arrows to "knock" people out.  With a wry smile, I informed him that I did.   I quickly explained to Kedra, who seemed to be the only one being reasonable …although Sinyalla and Saldenon had yet to say anything, that the two were thieves…not much different than myself.  They obviously weren't involved in the raids…or if they were, I thought, it would be an easy enough task to follow them.  I told her that bandits and thieves were like anyone else…we worked hard at our jobs, often forced into them by a lack of "legal" work.  It was a way of life, and so long as no one was killed, it was only money…and most people robbed only from those who could afford it…and we certainly looked it.  Most thieves worked as hard as merchants…and most merchants expected to be robbed.  It was a way of life for all…even if the governments automatically condemned the thieves, without condemning the merchants for having created the bandits by keeping people poor, while keeping themselves rich…like the nobles, I added with a sneer at Durand.  Kedra seemed to agree with me, and saw my point of view.  She agreed, then argued that we should get what information we could, then let the two go.  That did not sit well with Durand, who yelled that they were his prisoners, and that he would bring them to justice.  Sinyalla and Saldenon both agreed that, raiders or not, the two should be brought to justice.  I tried to explain to them that there was no justice for a thief.  It never mattered to a magistrate the circumstances, only that the crime had been committed…it would not be justice…it would be murder.  Durand was having none of it, and told me to keep out of it.  He drew his sword, and muttered that heads were just as easy to bring back as whole bodies.  Then the screaming match erupted.  I stepped in front of the two, drawing my weapon.                           "Come on your Lordship," I beckoned.  "You'll have to go through me to get to them, so let's go!"  Kedra shouted that she wanted to question them still.  Sinyalla cried not to kill them, and Saldenon shouted for everyone to stop.  I didn't really think that Durand would do it, but he muttered beneath his breath…a spell, I think, and then raised his sword to strike.  I prepared to parry, wondering how it had all gone down hill so quickly, but as it turned out, I didn't have to.  As Durand moved to hit, his tattoo blazed, and he cried out in pain.  It appeared that the tattoo kept us from attacking each other…wise, I suppose, since one didn't want their "assassins" killing each other.  With a cry of rage, Durand drew a knife, and moved to cut his arm, to mar or destroy the tattoo…but as the edge touched his skin, the blade of the dagger melted as though it were ice held next to an inferno.                               

            Saldenon, once again proved to be the voice of reason, by "negotiating" a "truce."  Not everyone was happy with the final decision, though.  It was decided that the two men…the drow would be released, but everything they owned, including their clothing would be taken from them.  They would be let go into the forest, naked, after they'd told us what they knew.  Durand would hear no more, and stalked off, and Sinyalla protested taking away the men's clothing, even though I explained to her that it was just, since the two thieves had messed up royally.  The drow weren't even upset by the decision, seeming more than willing to give up their possessions in exchange for their lives.  They didn't even flinch when Saldenon cut off all of their clothes, leaving them naked.  Kedra quickly threw a blanket over their bare, nether regions, more for her own modesty than theirs, I think…although considering that she'd washed Guar without any reservations about his nudity, I thought it was rather odd.  And, of course, I was rather disappointed that she covered them so quickly that I didn't get a good look at them…I was rather interested in seeing if they were black everywhere…if you understand my meaning.  We questioned them a bit further, but learned little more than what they'd already said…mainly that their leader, Gwenect had disappeared, the others had been killed, that someone who wasn't drow was in the 'Roost, pretending to be the drow, and that those people rode horses…something that the drow never did.  They snickered something about horses being too noisy.  When we released them, I gave them a quick warning.

            "I doubt your intentions for us were as "noble" as you tried to lead us to believe.  I'll give you one warning…don't try it again, or betray us, for next time, I'll not stay their hands.  I don't suffer idiots gladly."  They quickly agreed, whether truthful or not, I don't know…but I know that I will keep that promise.  Dumb thieves and murderers give those of us with some degree of honor a bad reputation.

            After they left, so did we, even though it was still night out.  I told the rest of the party, that all of the shouting had doubtless awoken every living thing within miles, and possibly even the people that we were looking for.  We set a camp again a little ways away, and fortunately enough, the rest of the night passed without incident.

                                                                     We arrived at the village, rather early the next morning.  No one mentioned that it was a dwarven village, but we found that out soon enough when we got there.  The head of the village, or at least I assume he was, met us out front.  They took the cart, and horses, for that was as far as we could take them, and said that he would return them to Dove.  He did mention that Dove was "a nice lady, for a harper," or something like that.  I took it to mean that Dove, like her sister, Storm, played music, though I saw no sign of an instrument when we met her…of course, one usually wouldn't carry an instrument into a prison with several potentially dangerous "criminals" within.  The dwarf also muttered something I couldn't hear when Kedra mentioned that she needed to shave…I didn't catch the words, but the displeasure in his tone was clear.  I had heard that dwarven women, like their men could grow beards, but the idea seemed so preposterous that I scarcely gave the idea any credit…a woman with a beard?  Ugh.  But then Kedra did go off and shave…she must've been doing it for several days, but I guess I never noticed it.  The sight was rather enlightening.  I shuddered at the thought of having a beard…hells…I don't even like bearded men…too scratchy.  We left a little while later, after having a bit of food.  We learned from the dwarves that the raids had been on the village, and on many of the outlying human-run farms, and that the raiders had been killing…not just stealing.  I sighed, for I don't condone the murder of innocents.  Despite my somewhat shady occupation, I had never killed anyone who had not provoked or deserved their demise…and never anyone "innocent…" not even the rotten nobles and merchants who screamed and wailed like pigs when I robbed them.  I suppose I would've come to see what was going here, even had we not been forced into doing it.  The dwarf gave us precise directions to the 'Roost, and we were on our way.  We were attacked once while on the road; by the biggest bee I've ever seen in my life…magic is the only thing I could think of to cause such a mutation.  We all had a hand in taking it down, but Durand struck the final blow…and lost his temper…began kicking and screaming at the bee in a most "un-lordly" fashion.  He beat at the insect's corpse, muttering the names of the people he "hated," and "wanted to kill."  I did notice that, by far, my name came up the most often…and that he did add Kedra, and even silly Sinyalla once or twice…why Sinyalla, I don't know, though I fathom that it may be because she hadn't wanted to kill the drow either.  He didn't seem upset at Saldenon, or Guar, strangely enough.  I wondered if, perhaps, His Lordship was one of those men who preferred his own type to women…never could figure that out, but hey!  Who am I to judge?  It would explain quite a bit, though, I realized.  When Durand had finished doing his best impressions of a spoiled five year old, we continued. 

            We reached the 'Roost just before noon.  It had once been a fair looking castle…a bit on the smallish side, though.  The top levels had all fallen in, as had the tops of the towers at each corner, but the bottom floor seemed relatively intact.  The moat surrounding it was empty and dry, and the outer walls were riddled with holes where rocks had fallen through.  There were definite signs of occupation, though.  For one, there was a definite path in, and a pile of dirt across the moat, making a crude bridge into the front of the fortress.  Behind there were trees, and a good deal of underbrush surrounding the castle, where the forest had begun to retake the land, and in the distance, from somewhere behind the castle, vultures circled overhead. 

            We decided not to go into the front, but to circle around back.  As we made our way around the outer bailey, there was no sign of any of the castle's inhabitants...no guards, or horses…or even any signs of the two.  We did come upon a small "graveyard" in the back, where the vultures were.  I use the term "graveyard" loosely, for it was more of a collection of very shallow graves…and not really a ""yard" in the sense that it was obviously a burial ground for the murdered, not holy ground.  Several of the graves were open…and all were on the small side.  Within, there were the bodies of more of the dark-skinned elves.  We were only able to tell, due to their smallness, and the few strips of dark flesh hanging from the well-picked bones.  Saldenon noticed me poking around at the graves, and asked, in a rather sarcastic manner,

            "Robbing more graves?"  I grinned at him, and replied flippantly,

            "Naw...nothing shiny…and bones just don't sell for much.  But if I find anything worthwhile, I let you know."

            We continued on, and found the remains of a campsite…no doubt the same one that the two we'd captured earlier had spoken of…where their fellows had been attacked and killed.  It was cleverly concealed, but I've always been good at finding what I shouldn't.  Not too far away, we caught sight of a rather large mound of sandy-dirt, with three holes in the top.  Curious, when went up to check it, when giant ants, similar in size to the bee began to come out.  We attacked, for we had little choice.  I did a bit of damage, and then decided that if there were as many ants in this "hill" as there were in a normal anthill, and then we could potentially be in trouble…and lots of it.  I thought to try to block off the holes with boulders.  I managed to drag one into place as the party brought down a fourth ant, but after that, no more emerged.  So either four had been all that was in there, or the others were staying below.  I didn't much care either way.  We left the anthill quickly, and went down into the moat and up the other side again, then through a hole in the outer wall.  Inside we found that the castle was little better than a pile of ruins.  We wandered around, but there was nothing apparent to be found…there were trees and shrubs growing where rooms had once been.  It was in one of the rooms, from which a large oak tree now stood, that Kedra was "attacked."  I joined her at the door as an acorn hit her directly in the head.  Another one missed by a narrow margin.  I peered up into the tree to see what was causing the trouble, and saw a glimpse of red among the green and branches.  I caught the third acorn, mid-air before it could reach the intended target, and promptly winged it back…right at the flash of red.  There was an outraged chitter from above.  

            "Show yourself!" I demanded.  Another acorn came down at me, but a moment later; a tiny red-scaled dragon hopped down onto a branch, and shook a claw at me with intended fierceness.  I was hard pressed not to laugh, but knew well enough to keep my amusement to myself.  The creature was a pseudo-dragon.  We had them in the Moonshaes.  I'd never actually seen one before…albeit not from lack of trying, seeing as I used to devise all manner of traps for the little creatures when I lived at the church in a vain attempt to catch one.  I never caught one, but the bait in the traps always seemed to vanish mysteriously.  In any case, I knew, from Jael, that pseudo-dragons could be dangerous.  They had a venomous sting that could kill if left unattended.  But, I also knew that they were smart beasties, and that with the proper motivation, we might be able to induce it to talk.  Just then, a tinny little voice squeaked in my head.

            "What are you doing in my home?!"  It demanded.  I knew it was the dragon.  I explained to it the problem, about the riders and the killings, and the raids.  It spilled what it knew with the promise of a gold coin.  The pseudo-dragon had, indeed seen the riders, and had been playing tricks on them.  When the riders reacted poorly, the dragon had apparently stung the last one in line, who'd fallen from his horse in a stupor from the venom.  The little thing giggled happily about that, boasting of how wonderfully skilled it was, and that the other riders didn't even notice their compatriot fall.  Of course, when I asked what had become of the fallen one, the dragon couldn't recall, or didn't know.  Silly, flighty, thing.  I asked it when the riders came, and it replied once every ten days, and then only for the span of a night.  It informed me that the riders would always ride the same way, coming from the west, down along the 'Roost, and to the south, where they vanished.  It couldn't tell me during what part of the night the riders would appear, not could it tell me what race the riders were of, for they were always hooded.  It did however inform me that it had been ten days since the last time they'd been by, and so, would be back that very night, if the pattern continued.  Good news and bad…good, for we knew they were coming and would not have long to wait…bad because it didn't give us much time to prepare. 

            Now, all the time I was questioning the pseudo-dragon, the rest of the party was still moving about.  Saldenon, Durand, and Sinyalla were at least paying attention, and even throwing in a question or two of their own.  Kedra was at the base of the tree, trying to catch the dragon, muttering that she wanted it.  I think it was more for a pet, than out of any need of vengeance for the acorn barrage, though.  All the same it was disconcerting the dragon, which would loose his train of thought, trying to avoid Kedra.  I wouldn't've told her to stop, but even though I don't know her well yet, I've pretty much figured out that trying to get the dwarf girl to stop something once she's set her mind to doing it, is like trying to turn back the tide with your hands…simply won't happen, and results in a great deal of wasted energy.

            It was about that time, that we heard Guar roar.  Naturally we all bolted out to see what was going on.  Guar was at the edge of a dark pit in the ground of the keep.  There was a mass of writhing vines coming up from below, wrapped around him, pulling him closer and closer to the edge.  Guar was struggling mightily, but failing.  I realized that my bow would be worthless in this situation, and so, drew cutlass and dagger, and bolted to help out the hapless half–orc.  Durand, and Kedra rushed over at the same time.  It proved to be a bad idea, for as we approached to cut at the vines, the ground at the edges of the pit gave way.  Kedra managed to jump clear, but Durand, Guar, and myself fell.  We landed hard, about ten feet below, in a strange cavern, with dripping green pillars of stones shooting up and down.  I stumbled to my feet, when the vine wrapped around my legs and waist, and began to squeeze with an unholy amount of strength for a plant. The fall had knocked Guar out, and Durand looked a bit shaken as well.  I felt bad, and was feeling worse by the moment.  I began to slash at the vine, even as it continued dragging at me, pulling over towards where I could see a skeleton hanging, bones crushed.  Durand cried out…he was looking bad…I could hear his amour beginning to shriek as it was being bent into him by the vine.  From above, I could hear Kedra calling for us, asking if we were all right.  I didn't have any bloody time to answer such a ridiculous query, and continued chopping away.  A moment later, Saldenon landed, face first on the cavern floor…apparently having leapt down to save us…by the goddess…what an entrance!  He quickly recovered, and the odd wizard lent a hand.  Durand went down, but Saldenon and I managed to finish the pernicious plant off by the time Kedra and Sinyalla had jumped down as well, to lend a hand.  Fortunately, the skeleton had had a pouch on him…with 4 potions of healing.  We forced one down Guar, and one down Durand.  I thought about taking one myself, but figured that, since I was still standing, I ought to save it for a time when I wasn't.  When we were all standing again, I commented on the fact that I doubted that anyone had thought to tie off a rope overhead but jumping down the pit.  Naturally, no one had.  Guar tried to hoist Kedra and pushed her out of the hole, but as soon as her fingers touched the edge, more of the ceiling fell away.  The ground was too unstable to climb back up, so it was left for us to find a way out.  The cavern was large enough that none of us could see the other end.  There was, however, a small, swift stream of water running through the cavern, so we followed it, hoping it would lead to an exit.  We did find an exit, but it led us straight into another ant hive…and this one had a huge queen ant in it.  The fight was rather long and tedious.  Durand and Saldenon were both badly hurt, and I used the one potion to awaken His Lordship, given that we unfortunately required his help to defeat the ants.  We killed the queen ant, and Guar and I used her body to block us the ant hole, while the others defeated the last of the "regular" ants.  I was feeling particularly bad at that point, but didn't bother to let on to the fact.  Guar seemed to notice, and tried to help, but I told him not to bother…most of the damage was inside, I knew.  I would have to heal on my own, or find a cleric.  I knew that Guar and Durand were both priests of their faiths…or at least on they're way to becoming such, but frankly, I didn't think either of them could or would help…so I didn't bother to ask.  We continued on, and came into an actual room, of sorts.  There were ledges and hollows along the wall, which were all covered by shards of broken, colored glass.  A wide, shallow pool of green-tinted water filled the center of the room, fed by the stream of water.  Sinyalla figured out the broken glass was the remains of what had been some sort of wine cellar.  There was a door to the north, which Guar, Kedra, and Durand went to check out, and promptly began prying at it when they discovered that it was jammed.  I peered at the pool, and saw a strange face appear in the water, then fade away.  After a few moments, a large snake sprang form the water, and attacked us.  It looked rather dangerous, so I attacked with bow and arrow.  It was felled quickly.  Sinyalla, while poking around the pool, discovered that there was a treasure hidden below the water, and we drew it out piece, by piece.  There was a long sword, coin, and gems, and a scroll.  At the door, the others had managed to get it open, using all their combined strength, only to discover that a massive honeycomb was blocking the way.  Guar chopped through it, but just as it began to break, we heard the sound of buzzing…lots of it.  I remembered the giant bee from the forest, earlier, and realized that this was where it must've come from.  It was a giant hive.  The others decided to find another way out.  I thought that we could just light the hive on fire to kill the bees, or at least smoke them out, but went along with the others anyhow.  If there was another way out, I could come back later, and get the honey from the hive.  I just love honey.

            We did find another way.  It led down a short stairway, into a damp room.  There was another pool in the chamber, and our footsteps echoed loudly.  As we watched, that same face from before appeared in the water.  Suddenly, it began to speak.

            "Halt! Who goes there?"  It demanded…then, it went on before we could answer.

            "What do the living seek in the sepulcher of Galath the betrayed?  Betrayed by small-minded men, glory seekers and snivelers!  The treasure of Galath is for Galath alone, but know this!  There is a winged creature who lairs above, and it mocks me, day and night!  Bring me the head of this beast, and one tenth of the treasure shall be yours!"  I thought us an idea for the "ghost," and answered.

            "I hate to tell you, but Galath is dead…but this here, " I gestured to Durand,

"This Galath's grand son…so now it's his treasure.  You've done well guarding it, but now Galath's grand son has come for it."  The "ghost" seemed momentarily disconcerted.  I noticed then, that Kedra was gone…saw a set of stairs in the corner leading up.  Durand gave me an odd look, but went along with it, claiming to be Galath's grandson.  Banter went back and forth for a few minutes, as the "ghost" attempted to convince us to go kill the pseudo-dragon for it, and tried to decide if we were telling the truth.  A moment or two later, Kedra returned, her axe drawn.

            "Don't listen to it!  The little dragon says it's some sort of unseelie fairy!"  I knew what those were, mostly from Jael's tales.  I knew they weren't good, so I drew my cutlass.  The "ghost" noticed my actions.

            "No! No!" It shouted.  "I'll give you some of the treasure…just don't hurt me!" 

            "Where is the treasure?" I asked.

            "In the other pool," it replied.

            "Oh…well, we already have that treasure," I told it.

            "You do?!" it exclaimed.   "Well, hmph!"  It pouted.  It flew up out of the water for a moment, long enough to see that it was not a ghost, or an unseelie fairy, but rather, some impish looking thing, then it dove back under the water and did not resurface.  I sheathed my cutlass.  That was that…problem solved, and without much in the way of a fight.  We took the stairs back up to top, and made our way back over to the tree with the pseudo-dragon.  Guar, Durand, and Saldenon promptly went to sleep, seeing as they were all wounded and tired.  I still didn't feel top notch myself, but there were things to that needed to be done.  I called the pseudo-dragon down, enticing it with another piece of gold.  It flapped down to my shoulder, and began to answer my questions.  It showed me exactly where the riders would come, where it had stung the one rider.  As I was scouting out locations for some traps, I saw some people approaching from the north.  None of them were hooded, or looked as though they were skulking about, or raiders…besides, it was still a good three hours or so before dark, anyhow, so I didn't throw a fuss, simply waited for them to approach.  As they got closer, I saw that there were 2 of them, and that they were both elven.  They both had the same silvery-pale skin as the one elf I'd seen in Baldur's gate.  They both had pointed ears, and dark hair, each one wearing a metal breastplate.  They hailed me as they slowed down…I noticed then, that I was not alone…Sinyalla had apparently followed me out. 

            After a bit of questioning, I learned that the two elves were Simimar and Lathai, that they were in the area because of the raiding, and they also believed it to be drow.  I told them what little we'd managed to find out…sad really…our best source of information was a tiny…cowardly pseudo-dragon, who'd departed my company as soon as I spotted the riders.  Needless to say I did not divulge the source of the information.  They agreed that the horse troops were probably not drow, and that it was rather puzzling.  They asked me if we'd seen another elf…a rangerish fellow, named Inialos Oakwood.  I told them that we hadn't, but that we'd keep an eye out for him.  Inialos was apparent kin of theirs, and had gone missing a ten-day ago while he and another elf were scouting.  They'd found the body of the other elf, but not Inialos.  I told them about the drow we ran into, whose story was very similar.  They asked what we were doing at the 'Roost, and I told them that we were looking for the riders, and indeed, expected to confront them that night.  They warned me to be careful, that Galath's Roost was said to be haunted.  I laughed, and said that the "ghost" was probably the antics of the pseudo-dragon and the "unseelie fairy."  They shrugged, and told me to be careful all the same.  They asked if I knew anything about the graves near the keep, and I told them what little I knew.  I invited them to come help with the attack later…they didn't say yes or no, but I wasn't really surprised that they didn't show up later…I wouldn't really trust me either.  The more talkative of the two gave me a potion of healing when I mentioned that several of the party members had been injured.  I guess they knew I wasn't lying, seeing as I certainly looked as though I'd been in a fight...bruises, and cuts, and clothing ripped in all the wrong places…damn it.  They left after that, and I went back inside the keep.  I handed the potion over to Kedra, and told her to give it to one of the men when they awoke…preferably whoever was whining the most, so they would shut up.  Men are such babies…  Those elves were rather cute though, I must admit…not very good in the conversation department, as they'd been rather short and to the point, but definitely blessed in the looks department…highly exotic, in a rugged, rangerish sort of way.  I believe I sighed, but went back to my investigations…no sense day dreaming when there was work to be done. 

            I decided to take another look below.  I had a feeling that there was something beyond that damned beehive, and meant to find out.  By myself, without the others clanking about, I could no doubt scout the place out without having to worry about the bees.  So I took up a candle, and down I went once more.  Guar had knocked open a decent enough size hole in the hive, and I was able to slip through it.  There was a ton of beeswax, and so much honey in the combs that it was all I could do to restrain myself from having a taste…sticky fingers would not do if there was trouble.  I vowed to return later…the honey would be my treat, the beeswax I could sell to a candle maker for top coin, seeing as how there was so much of it.  I moved cautiously through the hive…the bees were easy to avoid seeing, as they were so big, and lumbering, and their buzzing was rather loud.  About halfway through I noticed that there was a light source moving through the hive with me that certainly wasn't coming from my candle.  I turned about, only to see that, once again, Sinyalla had followed me.  Her skin was the source of the light, though I couldn't for the life of me understand why her skin was glowing.  Must be some sort of wizardly thing, I supposed, even though I'd yet to see her cast any spells…or do anything overly useful for that matter.  Hells, I don't even know what she did for a living.  She was certainly pretty enough to be a high-priced whore, but lacked the worldly attitude of one.  She wasn't dressed like, nor did she act like a noble.  And her fighting skills could certainly use a bit more practicing.  A wizard…most probably…maybe she just doesn't have a spell book or anything.  I didn't say anything as she followed me, though she knew that I knew she was there.  I didn't want to make any noise to attract the bees.  We reached the end of the hive, and found a small crack in the wall.  I squeezed through first, and she followed, and we found ourselves in an actual hallway, not the caves.  The corridor stretched right and left, but I was more interested in the door straight ahead, and the kobolds near it.  There were only two kobolds, and knocking the little buggers out was like easier than seducing a drunken, naked, Northman.  Needless to say they went down without a sound.  The walls and ceiling of the hall were all decorated in a woodsy kind of mural…very pretty, but faded.  The door itself had an image on it…that of the full moon, with a milky white cloudy arching overhead.  Iiinnnteresting…

            Of course, it was locked.  My first attempt to open it met with abject failure.  I wrestled and subdued the urge to boot the door, and curse like a sailor…I was so proud of my restraint.  Then…oddly enough, Sinyalla volunteered to have a go at it.  I shrugged, rather skeptical, and stood aside.  Damned if she didn't whip out a set of picks…a thief?  Sinyalla?  I don't know if I can swallow that.  She made to open it, but as her hands connected with the door, there was a flash, and she crumpled to the ground, her hands smoking a bit.  Well…there'd obviously been a trap, and she'd set it off.  It'd knocked her silly.  I recalled that she'd taken one of the four potions.  I located it, and poured it down her throat.  She awoke after the healing magic did its work.  I heard some more kobolds down the hall and warned her to be quiet.  She nodded. I took my time, the second time, and close to ten minutes later, I finally managed to pop the bloody lock, with no harm to my own person, thankfully.  I walked into the room, and Sinyalla moved to follow, only to find that she could not cross the threshold, not for any trying.  Said she didn't even want to try.  I thought that it was strange, but figured that there was some sort of magical trap on the door.  Don't know why it didn't affect me.  Gull usually had only one thing to say when it came to magical traps: avoid them.  There were alternate cases, though, where the reward was great, and those times were the ones that we would hire one of the little outlander wizards, or hedge-wizards that sold their skills for coin to help out.  I figured, though, that since I was already in that I would go see what was so important that it had to be kept behind a magically warded door. 

            Inside, the room was irregularly shaped, the walls decorated with sylvan scenes. Directly ahead was an image of the full moon, with a milky cloud hanging over it, just like the door, only larger.  Just in front of it was a small fountain with three jets of water, bubbling merrily.  Two braziers lit the rooms alongside the image.  Suddenly a voice boomed in the emptiness of the room.

            "What goes on here?"  I quickly ducked into the shadows, just in time as an elven knight materialized in the room.  He looked around, curiously.  Dressed in gleaming plate armor, emblazoned with the image of two golden stags rearing on a field of blue, he was a unique sight, or would've been if I hadn't been able to see through the translucent form.  This then was the ghost, I surmised. 

            "I could've sworn I heard someone…" I was curious, I'll admit it.  So, using a bit of voice throwing that I picked up on the streets, I called out to him, making it seem as though I was standing in the shadows in another part of the room.

            "Who are you?" I asked.  Predictably, he looked over where the voice had come from, and not at me.

            "I am Lyklor Kelerandri.  Who are you, and what mischief are you about?"

            "I'm not "about" anything.  I was just looking for some missing people…a dark skinned elf, and light skinned one.  You haven't seen them about have you?"  I replied.  He continued to try to find me in the wrong part of the chamber, seeming confused at his inability to do so.

            "No…there has been no one here but for the wretched kobolds…not for more years that I can recall.  And the kobolds cannot cross the door.  How is it that you crossed?

            "I dunno, just lucky I suppose."

            "And what is this you speak of?  The drow?  In my family's crypt?  They could not pass the door.  But I do not like the idea of them crawling around anywhere near here… "

            "No, it's not really the drow…well, they are around here, but it's someone else causing the trouble."

            "No, if they are around, then it is surely the drow.  Now, I have told you that I have seen no missing people.  What else do you want?  Do you seek to loot the crypts of my family?  …If you do…"  I cut him off before he could begin to threaten me.

            "Hey, relax.  I promise that I won't take anything that you don't offer to give me, okay?"  He nodded slowly.

            "Show yourself.  I mean you no harm, as long as you cause none in return.  Please.  If the drow are about, I will give you what little aid I may.  I have weapons.  I shall give you two of my items to assist you."  He seemed sincere, so I stepped out of the shadows.  He was startled.

            "But I thought you were over here!"  I merely grinned at him.  He was cute, in a noble kind of way…but I don't go for undead, cute or no. 

            "I'm Raine the Banshee, nice to meet you, Lyklor."  He nodded. 

            "Follow me," he walked over to one of the walls and walked though it. 

            "Um…Lyklor… I'm not dead.  I can't walk though walls.   He came back through.

            "Oh…sorry."  I think he might've blushed…if ghosts could blush, that is.  I bet he was shy when he was alive…  He approached one of the braziers, and tipped it back.  A hidden door opened.  I followed him into a small room that contained a lone sarcophagus made of green marble.  Carved onto the top of it was Lyklor's likeness, so I assumed that it was his grave.  Weird… 

            "There.  My belongings are within, you may take whichever two things you wish, to aid you against the drow."  I could've told him that we weren't out for fighting the drow, but since he was being generous enough to help, I figured I'd oblige him.  It took me a bit of struggling to get the lid open…I'm not overly strong, and it was rather heavy.  I believe that Lyklor laughed at me…great, I'm comical to the undead.  Inside, there was a set of shiny full plate, only a little tarnished, a bastard sword, a fine looking longbow, and a pendant of platinum and diamonds.  I quickly picked up the pendant…it was worth a lot, and I though of a whole lot of things I could do with the money it would bring.  He raised an eyebrow, but did not object.  Then I debated.  I really wanted the longbow for myself…it was in good condition, better than Gull's battered old short bow, and even nicer than the one I'd won…but on the other hand, I knew that Durand needed some new armor badly.  His had been pretty much ruined by the weird vine, and the ants…at the very least, it would not be serviceable for any upcoming battle, which would leave His Lordship without any protection.  I may not particularly care for Durand, but he hasn't annoyed me enough to want him dead just yet.  Damn my charitable nature…  I gathered up the armor, being careful about the ancient bones within…most of them were so old that they turned to dust at my touch…but Lyklor didn't seem to mind much.  I looked again at the bow.

            "I don't suppose you'd be willing to trade for the bow?"  I asked, half in jest.

            "What do you have to trade?" He replied, perking up.  I suppose being a ghost was rather lonely, and he seemed to being enjoying the conversation.  I set everything down, and dug through my backpack.  I was kind of ashamed at how shabby most of my stuff was.  I offered him the other short bow, but he didn't seem interested.  His was better, so I didn't really think it was a fair trade anyhow.  Then I saw a glint within, pulled out the harp I'd won.  It was a pretty thing, but the sound of it was no better than Lady Emilia's harp, for all it's gems and gilt.  It was a trophy, but not very important otherwise.

            "What about this?"  I asked him.  The harp was probably worth more than the bow, but I needed the bow more, so it was fair.  His ghostly eyes lit up.

            "Ah.  Do you play?  It has been so very long."

            "Well, I'm no Storm Silverhand, but I can pluck out a decent enough tune.  On the harp, or flute, if you'd like.  I'd hazard to say I'm better at the flute…probably because it's all sound and no words.  With the harps, comes songs, and I'm not very good at remembering lyrics.  Actually, I played a song on the flute to win the harp at a Shieldmeet festival"

            "Then I must hear that song," he stated.  I pulled out my flute, and he gasped.

            "Where did you get that?"  He gestured at my instrument.  I looked down at the handful of delicate amethyst crystal.

            "Oh…I found it on the beach one day…in the Moonshaes, where I grew up.  No one ever came looking for it.  Why?'

            "It's just that such flutes are only found on Evermeet, where the crystals to make them are grown."

            "Oh…well I've never been to Evermeet…don't even know where that is, to tell you the truth…I figure that it probably belonged to someone who died in a wreck, or something."                 

            "Do not worry about it…I was just surprised.  Please, play."  So I did.  It may not have been my best performance, but it certainly was far from my worst.  I played him one of my ocean songs.  I was gratified to see the smile on his translucent face, when I finished.

            "Well done…  I shall take the harp, then, and you may have my bow, and good luck to you with the drow.  I took up the bow, and tested it.  It was still strong and flexible, despite its obvious age…and the work of a master crafter. 

            "Well, it's been nice meeting you, Lyklor.  Say…why is it that you're haunting here?" I asked.

            "I guard the bodies of my family from desecration," he replied in a pompous tone. 

            "Oh…well, y'know I don't think that anyone could find them down here.  The 'Roost's ruined, y'know."

            "All the same, I shall keep my guard."  I nodded…I suppose it was his choice to stay, even though I wasn't very comfortable with the idea of any undead…I suppose that's due to Lady Emilia's churchly influence.  Still, he hadn't been unfriendly, or anything, so I didn't really have a problem with him. I left then, carrying all that bloody, heavy, damned armor out.  I would have to go back later for the honey. 

            We got back topside, and still had at least another hour before the dark fall.  As predicted, Durand slavered over the armor.  He tried to offer me a piddling sum of money for it, but I knew about the cost of such a set of armor…  The deal we agreed on was that he owed me a favor…one that could be called in whenever I asked for it, and with no complaints on his part.  He reluctantly agreed, then began drawing on the armor, like a child playing with a new toy.  Lyklor must've been a fairly decent sized elf when he'd been alive, for the armor fit Durand well enough. 

            Meanwhile, I grabbed up Kedra, Sinyalla, a shovel, and two long lengths of rope to set the plan I'd come up with into action.   Along the road that the riders would travel, I set two trip ropes, stretched out between trees, and stones on the castle.  Just beyond the ropes, I had Kedra dig some shallow holes…deep enough to trip a man or a horse, but not to hurt them.  With luck, the riders wouldn't see any of the traps in the dark.  The horses would stumble, and hopefully throw, or at least unnerve their riders, which would make them vulnerable for our attack.  Guar and Kedra would hide in the moat at the front of the 'Roost, and the rest of us would position ourselves in a small copse of trees beside the fort.  When the riders were in place, we would attack from behind, the front, and one side.  With the 'Roost on the other side, there would be no escape, and we would have them.

            Everything was ready, and everyone was in place as night fell.  I'd warned Guar and Kedra not to kill the riders, only incapacitate them…they were, after all, worth more alive than dead.  And besides, we needed to know where they'd taken the two elves, and if they were working for anyone. 

            The riders came two hours later.  Cloaked and hooded, they rode up from the west, just as the little dragon had specified. There were five of them.  They stumbled into our traps, and it all went perfectly.  Four went down, thrown from their horses, and the party members were upon them, binding their hands and feet with more rope.  The fifth nearly managed to get away, but I brought him down with an arrow to the shoulder.  He fell, and lay, moaning on the ground. 

            "Why did you attack us?" he demanded.  I yanked back his hood…a human, and with skin as fair as my own. 

            "Why have you been raiding on people and blaming it on the drow?" I countered.  He protested, saying that they were no raiders, and that, indeed, they'd been sent to seek out the raiders.  I didn't believe him for a moment.  Fortunately, we had Guar.  Guar put on a grand show of intimidation, roaring with his full lung capacity about how we should kill them all and be done with it.  Kedra and I both saw that Guar was play-acting, and went along with it. 

            "You'd better tell the truth, " I said to him.  "Guar is hard to control when he wants to kill…we may not be able to hold him back!"  Kedra was throwing her weight against Guar's legs, yelling,

            "No Guar, they're worth more alive!"  I knew it for an act, for Kedra "seemed" to be holding Guar back, although, I knew that if he were so inclined, Guar could move Kedra in a trice.  The man fell for it, graying, obviously in fear for his life.  He spilled everything. 

            They were indeed the raiders, and had tried to put the blame on the drow.  In reality, they worked for a group called the Zhentarim.  I didn't know who they were, but the others, like Durand and Kedra obviously did, for they sneered at the name… no doubt it was some sort of troublesome organization.  After more questioning, during which I had to teach Kedra that stabbing a prisoner was not a good way to get information, and hitting a man in his nether parts was a certain way to cause him to pass out, we found out that there was a camp.  The man didn't want to tell us how to get there, or how to open the "portal" into it, but another display from Guar changed his mind quickly enough.  On the hands of two of them, there were tattoos of open eyes.  We figured that the tattoo were how they opened the portals.  We stripped the cloaks from all of them, three humans and two half orcs, and donned the cloaks ourselves.  We decided to go to the raider's actual lair and capture the rest of them.  We left five of the raiders, but took the talkative one with the tattoo with us.  I bribed the pseudo-dragon to guard the other five, and to sting anyone who tired to get away, playing up to the creature's ego to make certain that he would want to keep his attention on the task.  Then, we took the riders' horses…thank the goddess there were only five, so I was "forced" to walk and headed off, following the Zhent's directions.  I warned him not to play us false…if he did, he would suffer before dying…and I vowed that he would live…at least until we turned him over to the authorities, and then his fate would be none of my affair.  After all, as I've said before, I don't mind thieves, but I despise killers.  And I knew that these raiders were killers, whereas I had no proof that the drow were…despite the fact that I suspected they were probably rotten anyhow.

            He led us to the top of a hill, and activated a portal.  We were whisked away, by magical means and arrived a few moments later just outside the wall of a small keep atop a stone plateau, of sorts.  I had a feeling that we were rather high up, but I refused to let it bother me.  The wind was really whipping.  There was a high wall, and a bridge before us, with two sets of sentries up in the battlements.  They called down as we approached.

            "Who goes there?"  Durand replied.

            "We're returning from a raid."  The sentries…obviously not of the highest intelligence level, allowed us in, after taking a cursory look at us.  They apparently didn't notice that there were now seven where they'd been five.  What followed was a lot of sneakiness.  We went into the Zhentish camp. We asked our hostage how many men were in the camp, and he replied that he didn't know…that the only person who knew the exact number was their leader, a priest of Bane, named Suddaliss.  But, he did figure that the number was somewhere over 50.  That was a problem.  I knew that there was no way we could possibly take out 50 men.  Even if we just had the quietest people sneak up and kill them, there was sure to be a mistake made, a scream heard, and then it would be over.  We would lose in open combat.  Then, I got an idea that just might work, but I would definitely need the help of someone who had rational thinking capabilities during a fight, and a commanding voice.  That ruled out most of the party except for one.  I sighed.  Life is never easy.  I ran the idea past Durand, and he agreed.  If it worked, we would be able to capture most of the Zhents without having to kill anyone…and thus keep our reward at 100 gold, rather than the 25 we would get for the dead ones.  We turned to our hostage, who was being surprisingly cooperative…no doubt because Guar kept growling at him, and he held his life dear as most people do. 

            "Where is your leader, this Suddaliss?"  I asked. 

            "Well, he might be in his room, or he might be in the temple at the back of the main building."

            "Will he be alone?"  Durand asked.

            "I don't know.  Probably." 

            "Show us the way."  The man nodded.  We made our path over to the main building, and were stopped at the doors by a few guards, who wanted to know what our business was.  We replied that we were returning from a raid, and had important news that we had to give Suddaliss.  They didn't question us further, but let us pass.  We went by three more sets of guards within, using the same tale.  The interior of the building was dark and musty, lit only by torches that seemed magical in nature.  The air was a bit stale, as though there was little airflow through the building.  Finally, we were at the chapel.  Cautiously we entered.  The room was shaped liked an open-palm hand, with little alcoves at the tip of each finger.  Within each alcove there was a little stand, each holding items…a letter, a book, a chalice…no doubt things of the religion of Bane.  At first the chapel appeared to be empty, but then I felt something cold…and wholly evil within, just in the shadows.  Then we noticed that the door behind us was closed.  When …it emerged from the shadows, my first instinct was to bolt…but there was nowhere to go.  I stayed put, but didn't look up again after that first glance.  What I'd seen was a creature in the robes of a priest, with the same symbol of Bane that was on our arms.  Its face was shriveled, and pale…undead, with glowing lights in the eye sockets.  Evil rolled off of it like oil off water.  I felt sick.  I hardly remember now what was said, only that it…he? told us that he was responsible for one of the marks on our arms, that he'd been ordered to put them there and raise us.  He claimed that he would remove his mark once we'd gotten the other four removed.  He refused to give us the names of the other groups who'd been involved, the reasons why they done it, or how many more times we would lose control and try to assassinate some hapless soul again.  He did tell us to take the chalice that I'd seen earlier, that we would need it later on.  Kedra kept trying to badger the thing for more answer, until I noticed that it's flesh-stretched, skeletal hands were clenching in fury.  I yelled at her to shut up, and I guess she realized that maybe it would be a good idea.  When he was done talking, he stepped back into the shadows and vanished.  The door could once more be opened.  We all, gratefully, stumbled back into the hall.  The guards at the end gave us a curious look.

            "He's not in the chapel," I heard Durand explain to them.

            "You might want to check his room then," one of them suggested helpfully.  Our hostage, who had passed out in fear at the undead creature's appearance, had to be shaken awake.  He showed us the way to Suddaliss room.  Before we knocked, I warned Guar and Kedra and the others…especially Guar and Kedra, not to kill this man, that we needed him alive.  We knocked.  A muffled voice from within yelled,

            "Go away!"

            "Please, sir it's important!"  I replied.

            "Go…Away!!"

            "Sir," I insisted,  "This can't wait.  It's about the…"   The door was suddenly yanked open, a pudgy, brown haired, hook nosed, man wearing priestly robes stood there, his face red. 

            "What!?"  He demanded angrily.  I looked at Durand, Durand nodded.  We struck, punching the human in his face and gut.  Suddaliss stumbled back into the room, yelling, clutching his bloodied nose.  It only to a few more hits to incapacitate him, but that was enough time for the closest guards to come running, and send for help.  Guar and Kedra were in the hall keeping the guards at bay, trying their best to wound, but not kill.  I must admit they did a fair enough job.  Durand hauled up Suddaliss, and put a knife to his throat, and he and I went out into the hall, just as what must've been most of the camp was pouring into the hallway.  I used my rather loud voice.                                                

            "Stop!  We have Suddaliss…your leader!  Stop now, or we kill him!"  Guar and Kedra stepped aside momentarily, and gave all of the Zhents a good view of Durand holding a knife on Suddaliss.  One woman, in heavy armor, seemed to be in charge.  I guess we were intimidating enough, and they believed our threat, and they cared enough for the life of their leader to want to keep him alive. 

            "Stop!"  The woman commanded.  All the Zhents obeyed the order, as though it were a god who'd done the ordering.

            "Drop your weapons!"  I yelled.  They complied, throwing down axes and sword and bows.  Just then there was a girlish-shriek from one of the side doors.  Guar charged in and killed the half-orc Zhent in the prison room, who'd apparently not heard the order, and was attacking Sinyalla, who'd foolishly wandered off during the fight.  Damn…out 75 gold.  We had Kedra and Guar go find some rope, while Sinyalla and Saldenon began to search the Zhents, looking for any hidden weapons.  Durand kept his hold on Suddaliss, and focused his attention on the task; since it was the only hold we had on the others.  Meanwhile, I sought out the woman whose name, I learned, was Captain Malvina.  She had a large ring of keys on her, which I took, then held my weapon on her, and marched into the prison room.  There were several small cells, each one containing people.  The first one had five humans in servant's livery in it.  They all looked rather beat up and tired.  Their eyes widened when they saw me holding a sword on the captain, saw the others come in.  We quickly unlocked their cell.

            "Come out, we're here to rescue you.  Now, please stand aside," I asked them, as we began to stuff Zhent soldiers into the cell…all of them now stripped down to their basics.  The next cell contained a dark-skinned elven woman, and a light skinned elven male.  They'd been chained to the wall, each with just enough room to touch…or attack.  Neither seemed very happy, and was sitting as far away from the other as possible. 

            "Well, you'd be Inialos and Gwenect, then?"  They seemed surprised that I knew their names.

            "Your friends are looking for you both," I told them by way of explanation.  Inialos did not seem surprised, but Gwenect looked a bit skeptical.  We unlocked them and asked them to step aside as well.  They complied readily enough.  Then, another voice called out.                                             

            "I say, could you release me as well?  This cell is rather uncomfortable."  The voice was rather melodic, but had a bit of a scathing edge to it that I recognized as a symptom of a frequent user of sarcasm.  I turned to see another dark elf, alone in one of the cells.  This one was definitely male and put the other two I'd seen to shame.  He was, simply put, deliciously gorgeous.  I knew that I would have to "talk" with him later.

            "Hold on, I'm getting to you," I replied, as I searched through the keys to open the door. 

            "Why, Thank you," he said as I let him out.  "My name is Dazelin Coloara, and…" I put my finger to his lips.

            "In a few minutes, we'll talk, for now…"  I pointed over to where the other rescued were standing.  He nodded, and headed over.  I couldn't help myself…  I really tried to resist the urge…as he walked past me, I goosed him.  He turned, and raised his eyebrow, curiously, then kept walking.  He certainly didn't seem overly upset.  Excellent…  I noticed that he stood as far away from Gwenect as possible, and shot her a rather nasty look.  I guess they weren't friends.  The last captive proved to be a golden-haired, overly righteous paladin of a god named Helm.   He was rather relieved to be released as well, and vowed that he would watch over the Zhents while they were in the cells.  Once all of the Zhent's captives were out, we put the Zhents in.  There proved to be about sixty of them, so it was a rather tight fit.  We kept Suddaliss and the Captain bound, and in separate rooms, as we didn't want them to incite the others to mischief.  There was a bit of an incident upstairs, with Kedra and a gnomish blacksmith that had been forced to work for the Zhents.  Apparently Kedra had tried to pen a box that she'd thought held rope, only to find that the box had had a magical trap on it, which caused her to become blind.  Kedra had, of course, yelled and screamed and wanted to kill the gnome, and tried to get Guar to do it for her.  We sent Saldenon up to try to deal with it, but rather than be the voice of reason, as he usually was, he made it worse.  We finally manage to calm everyone down, though.  Then Durand, and I hammered out a plan.  Durand, Guar and, Kedra would take Suddaliss, and the first captive, and return, pick up the men we'd left at the 'Roost, and return to town to contact Dove, and the Riders of Ashabenford for help.  The rest of us would stay here, keep watch over our prisoners and be on our guard should any more Zhents show up unexpectedly.  We found out that we could not leave by the way we'd entered, but rather by some sort of portal.  Durand and the others left that very day.  For the rest of us, we spent out time gathering loot, sorting it, checking out every corner of the encampment to make certain that we hadn't missed anything, or anyone, and keeping watched in case anyone else showed up.  All in all, we spent ten days there.  I didn't really pay attention to what the others were doing, as I was far to busy with what…or, more accurately who, I was doing. 

            At the first opportunity I'd gotten when everything had calmed down a bit, I pulled Dazelin Coloara aside.  We found a nice quiet room inside one of the buildings, rather far away from where everyone else was.  He was much happier now that his things had been returned to him, a spellbook and a fiery dagger, which he'd said was a family heirloom.  He'd cleaned up, and found some fresh clothing to wear.  By the goddess, I wanted him.  I could hardly think to begin my seduction of him with a conversation.  So, in the end, I didn't bother.  I merely commented that he must be sore from being cooped up in the cell so long, and would he like it if I rubbed his back for him…then gave him my best suggestive grin.  He looked me up, and down.  Now, I may not be the best looking woman in the world, but I do know that men find me…intriguing, and that wearing clothing that shows off generous portions of skin was apt to make them even more interested.  Dazelin replied that a back rub would be a fine thing, and deftly unlaced his tunic and tugged it off.  His skin was amazing…the color of ebony and smooth as he finest silk I've ever touched.  Like myself, he too, had tattoos…although not nearly as many.  Bright bits of color on his ebony skin, I was amazed at how well done they were.  A few even rivaled Gull's best works on my own pale skin.   All but two of his were line-designs…the other two being a fiery dagger, and a mace destroying a spider, the latter on his shoulder.  I would be sure to ask about them later, but for now…  Needless to say that it didn't take long for the rest of his clothing, and mine as well to join the tunic on the floor.

            Now, I won't go into details about sex with Dazelin, but put quite simply, his name was ever so appropriate…he was dazzling.  He knew things that I'd never even thought of, and has the most wondrously dexterous fingers on a man that I've ever seen, heard of, or felt.  And he was incredibly creative…it was probably the first time I'd ever had sex with a man, while in mid air…he used some sort of flying spell, seeing as he was a wizard of some power.  He was all too willing to take the cassil powder, as well.  We did talk, eventually…he told me a bit about the drow.  He was rather sarcastic about the whole thing, as though he gotten a great many questions before about what he was.  He did tell me that the majority of the drow race were, indeed, evil, and that they're hearts were as dark as their skin, and as dark as the spider goddess they worshipped.  His hatred of the spider goddess and her followers was the reason for the tattoo I'd noticed on his shoulder.  But, he amended, there were a few, like himself, who followed a good goddess, named Elistraee, who rejected the dark ways of the rest of their brethren.  He told me that he'd left the Underdark, and come to Ashabenford some 2o years earlier… that he was a friend to the Riders there, and occasionally helped them out.  He wondered why I'd not heard of the drow, and where I'd come from, so I told him…only the barest basics of my past, but went into more detail about current events.  He didn't seem to mind, for he, like myself, was more interested in the pleasure we could find with each other, rather than much talking.  To my surprise, I found that he wore me out.               

Dazelin hardly seemed to need any sleep.  He told me that light elves do not sleep, but do something else called reverie; and while dark elves sleep, they didn't need nearly as much as a normal person.  It was all very strange to me, yet at the same time, rather familiar…I squelched the familiar feeling before it could begin to hurt.

I asked him about his tattoos, being more of a trade discussion, although, I believe we were both naked when it began.  He said that the tattoos themselves were a hobby of his, but that he'd learned ways to magically enchant the inked skin designs.  I was interested enough to listen…I even thought about seeing what he could do with some of my own "art" once we got out of the Zhent camp.  He admired my tattoos as well and asked who'd done them…asked about the "unusual" knot work designs.  I told him that the knot work designs were popular in the Moonshaes, but skirted the question about Gull.  Predictably, conversation about the tattoos fell away to less talkative pursuits involving skin…

            I also made "friends" with the white skinned elf…a moon elf he called himself… Inialos.  Inialos had skin as fair as my own, light blue eyes, and long black hair which he attempted to keep back from his face in a pitiful excuse for a braid, that was constantly falling out.  It also might have had something to do with the fact that his hair was the same, silky texture of a child's, just like Dazelin's, for that matter.  He was rather nice to look at, and my same height, rather than Dazelin's much shorter frame.  As a lover, Inialos was just as easy to seduce as Dazelin had been, and while he was equally as dexterous, Inialos was not nearly as creative as his dark counter part.  And where Dazelin was not overly talkative, before, during, or after sex, unless I directly asked him something to get him going, I found that Inialos never shut up.  It wouldn't have been so bad, but for the fact that he was a ranger by profession and all he talked about was the woods and animals, and other mind-numbing subjects.  He told me the details of how to track a person, even while we were in middle of….well, never mind about what we were doing.  Suffice to say that I tried to keep my lips sealed on his as much as possible, seeing as kissing him was the only way to keep him quiet.  All the same though, I learned more about living in the wilderness than I believe I will ever need to know. 

Dazelin didn't seem to care that I was sleeping with both him and Inialos for the ten-day that we ended up being stuck at the Zhentish camp.  Inialos wondered what I saw in a dark elf, but didn't really complain beyond that.  My conversations with Inialos…when I could wrest the topic away from him talking about himself…focused mostly on the elven language.  I managed to confirm from him that the language I think in, the one I write in this very journal…the language that I'd wondered if I'd made up myself…was indeed elven.  He did tell me that my elven was very good, but that I spoke it as a child would.  He taught me new words and showed me how he spoke it, and I learned to mimic him, until he told me that I'd vastly improved.  So now I know that somehow, I must still remember some of my farthest past, for I could speak and write elven…a language that no one had ever identified for me on the Moonshaes.  And another thing I noticed was that my coloring…except for my hair, was very similar to Inialos'.  He told me that I was a half-moon elf.  I asked him if that bothered him, and he told me that he knew many half-elves, all good people, and that the creation of half-elves had become a way of life in recent decades, and no, it didn't bother him, for I was beautiful and willing.  At least he was honest, right?  He, too, took the cassil, no doubt to prevent the possible creation of another half-elf…don't get me wrong, I don't think he's prejudiced about my…race?… just that he doesn't want to create one of his own …which was fine with me.  Dazelin and Inialos were both nice enough men, but I certainly wouldn't want either of them to be the father of any kid I might have someday.

            Now, despite what you may be thinking, I did not spend the entire ten-day in bed with the two elves, much as I would've liked to.  I took my turn at guard duty, and cooking…shudder…  And I spoke with some of the other people there, as well.  I talked with Gwenect for a bit, getting her view on the whole dark elven thing.  Now Gwen is pretty much every inch the bitch that Dazelin said she was.  She was petty and nasty in a lot of her answers, but at least she talked freely enough.  I did get the jist that she thought about as little of her two bumbling compatriots as I did, if not less.  I think that on some level she thought I was a fool for releasing them, but a bit grateful that I did.  She chuckled, amused at the terms of their release.  And I found that we shared a common interest…men.  Apparently, dear Gwen had her eye out for Durand, and so was a bit unhappy that I'd sent him off.  Naturally, I had to disagree with her appraisal of the irritating noble, whom I certainly didn't trust any more now, with him being so cooperative, than I did before.  I thought Daz was far better looking, and no doubt had better skills and a better personality that His Lordship.  Gwen merely sneered, and told me that what you could have on any day of the week was not nearly as interesting as a delicacy…and handsome humans, like Durand, were quite rare in the woods.  I wished her the best of luck in her seduction of Durand, and warned her of his dislike of drow, and murderous intents towards anything of an evil bent.  She laughed, and muttered that the man didn't have to be willing or like it to be …useful.  I didn't reply, but thought to myself, while they didn't, they certainly were more fun when they're willing. 

            I also had a bit of a chat with the human paladin.  He was fairly good-looking, but steadfast in his guard duty, and dull as dirt.  He vowed that he would not sleep, and watch the Zhents himself, until help arrived.  I didn't think it was possible, but damned if he didn't.  He did talk a bit, though, and I learned that he followed the outlander god called Helm, and that Helm was some sort of lawful, incredibly stiff, noble, and dutiful god… after that, I stopped wondering how the paladin…his name was Kurud…managed to stay awake and alert the whole time.  It had to be sheer arrogance, in a mimicking tribute to his god.  So I learned a bit of outlander lore from the paladin. 

            The five other humans we rescued were servants to a man named Wolcott, in Ashabenford.  They'd apparently been taken a ten day ago, and were more than a little battered.  They weren't overly interesting, but they did tell me a bit about Ashabenford, such as places I might try selling the Zhentish loot at for the best prices, and the best places to get a drink, and so and so forth.

            On the second to last day we were there, an idea occurred to me, and I went to Daz to ask him about it.  I thought that since the tattoo was obviously magical in nature, that perhaps a magic spell could remove it.  He did say that there was such a spell, called Dispel Magic, and that he would have a try at it.  But he warned me that if the power level of the person, or people who'd cast it was higher than his own, then the spell might not work.  I described to him the creature we'd met below, in the temple of Bane, and he put a name to it: a lich.  A lich, he told me, was basically an undead wizard, who used a powerful, evil spell to keep itself alive, and continue using its own powers, and keep its own free will and sentience. They were said to very powerful.  The whole idea creeped me out…I really don't like undead…I don't know if I mentioned that before.  The whole idea of undead is wholly unnatural…blame it on being raised in a church, I suppose.  In any case, Daz tried his spell.  To put it mildly, it failed…miserably. As he started chanting the arcane words of magic that I could make no sense of, my arm began to burn as though set ablaze.  I dropped to my knees, shouting out my agony…at least this time I could shout.  Daz collapsed, across from me, moaning in pain as well.  Apparently, whatever spell had been used to put the tattoos there had safeguards built into it to prevent any kind of Dispelling spell being used, he told me when we were both able to move again.         

            Finally, exactly ten days from the time they'd left, the others returned, with about 30 or so of the Riders of Ashabenford, and an ugly, miserable little wizard, who reminded me of Saldenon.  In fact, when Saldenon saw him, he promptly got an attitude, and asked the other if he was a tiefling.  The other wizard, apparently another resident of Ashabenford who occasionally helped out the Riders, growled, muttered "yes", and the two avoided each other for the duration of the trip.  It took less than an hour for all of us to round up the Zhents.  I had, quite intelligently I might add, had the odd little gnomish black smith busy making leg shackles the whole time…partially to keep him out of the way, and partially because I thought we would need them.  We shackled up the Zhents, loaded up all our loot, did one last sweep of the place, then returned to civilization again, by way of the portal.  As soon as we arrived in the wooded area where the portal lead, both Gwen and Inialos took off, headed in opposite direction.  I got a wave and a wink from Inialos, and not so much as a smile from Gwen as they left.  The rest of us made our slow way to Ashabenford.  Once in town, the Riders went to the local jail to have a place to put the Zhents.  I didn't ask what they would do with them.  They said that it would take a little while to get our reward gathered up.  I told them we were in no hurry, at the moment.  I guess by doing the job, and doing it rather well, we were temporarily vindicated, for they treated us like comrades, not like enemies.  Kurud respectfully took his leave, saying he had to report back to his church.  The five servants of Lord Wolcott left as well, taking one of the warhorses, a "spirited" creature called Axle, with them, as they said he belonged to Lord Wolcott.  Dazelin drew me aside, and gave me directions to his home, which was on the north end of Ashabenford, and told me that, business or pleasure, I had an open invitation to come visit him.  I winked, kissed him soundly, and assured him that I would. 

            Then it was down, once again to just the party members. Kedra's blindness had been healed by the clerics of the church of Tempus.  Seeing as most of what we'd taken from the Zhents was trade goods and weapons, we first stopped at the barracks of the Riders.  They were quite happy to take a good portion of the weapons and armor off our hands for a fair price.  The trade goods we managed to sell at an imports store run by a half-elven man.  It was practically robbery, I tell you, how much he underpaid us, but since he was the only one in the area willing to buy, we had no other options.  Since there was a great deal of axes and metal armor left, we gave it all to Kedra to take to the dwarven town of Glen, to sell.  Since it would take her at least a few days to complete the trip, the sale, and some other business she didn't elaborate on, it gave the rest of the party that much leisure time. 

Durand, Saldenon, and Sinyalla decided to go up to a place called Shadowdale, searching for magical items.  Frankly, I didn't really want to be in their company for the three days that their trip would take, and I didn't really need anything magical to assist me, so I made myself scarce, in case they wished to invite me along.  I know that Guar headed off to the temple of Tempus again, no doubt to increase his priestly abilities through prayer.  So I had the next couple of days to myself…and a great many things to do.

            First, I stopped at the general store, purchased 20 glass, pint jars, a potion case to carry them in, three smokesticks, and bunch of small leather pouches.  We'd already divvied up the money we'd gotten from the Zhent thing, and once Kedra and the reward came through, I would be richer than ever…so it was time to do something important.  I stopped up at Daz's house, and asked him if he had anything that would glow, like a candle that I didn't have to hold, wouldn't put out any heat, and wouldn't burn me.  He gave me a ring that glowed, just as I'd asked, asking why I wanted such a thing.  I told him, and he laughed, wished me good luck, and said to bring back the ring when I was done, and one jar as payment.  I agreed, had a short tumble with him, and then headed on my way out of town. 

            I made my way back towards Galath's Roost, stopping briefly at the dwarven town.  While there, I sought out the head of the townsfolk, the dwarf we'd met when we entered.  He seemed surprised to see me, even though he admitted that he'd heard what we'd done, how we'd defeated the Zhentarim raiders.  I handed him one of the leather pouches I'd bought.  He took it, felt the weight and peered in.

            "This be full of gold!"  he exclaimed.  Indeed, it was….1,200 gold pieces to be exact, which was about one third of all the money and goods I currently had.

            "You said that a lot of people had been robbed and hurt by the raiders, yes?"  I asked.  He nodded.

            "Then it is only fair that they receive some recompense for what they suffered.  Give the gold out to those who suffered raids…divide it as you will, since I'm sure you'd know better than I who needs it the most.  Being that you're a dwarf, and your folk are known to be honorable, I know that I can trust you with this task."  He gave the gold a look, and then gave me a look clearly stating that he thought I was crazy.  Dwarves are known to be fond of gold, and I'm sure he wondered why I was giving mine away, but I also knew that I could trust him to do as I'd asked…his honor would see to that.

            "Well enough then…there be a few human farmers, and few folks in town what've been hit the hardest…I'm sure they'll be glad of the help.  Now, who should I be saying is behind this charity?"  He asked, gruffly.  I smiled.                                       

            "Tell them that it is a gift from the Earthmother."  He looked confused.  I amended my statement.

            "Ah, you would call the Earthmother, Chauntea."  He nodded again.

            "Ye're an odd gurl, but I thank ye," he stated.  I merely nodded and walked off, and out of town, whistling happily.  I knew that he would tell them what I'd said, if asked, and I knew, too, that he would add what he willed about my description and such.  It didn't really bother me though…just so long as my name stayed my own while out doing good deeds…after all, I would never become an infamous thief in the realms if everyone thought that I just turned around and gave my ill-gotten gains away, right? 

From the dwarves, I headed straight back to Galath's Roost.  I sought out the little pseudo-dragon, who was happily up in his tree.  I gave over a handful of coins to him, as I'd promised, as a reward for guarding the Zhents, since I was certain that Durand had not bothered.  The little guy was ecstatic that I'd remembered him and given him the "shinies" as I'd promised.  He chattered at me for a bit, in his weird, empathic speech…his name was Rossal.  He didn't like Kedra, because she kept trying to catch him.  I told him that I thought that maybe Kedra wanted him for a pet, and he didn't seem to care for the idea. 

From there, I went down below, and back to the giant beehive.  I tossed one of the smoke sticks into the hive, and waited a few minutes before entered.  It worked perfectly.  All of the bees were gone, and quickly got to work.  I cut out a huge block of beeswax, as much as I could manage, and set it aside, then proceeded to fill the pints jars full of delectable honey.  I'd filled about 18 jars, by the light of the ring Daz had lent me, when the bees began to return.  Since I couldn't carry much more anyway, I decided not to waste the last two smokesticks, and head out.  I stopped by Rossal's tree one last time, and let the little guy dip some of his acorns into the honey.  He promptly went into raptures of happiness as he began to chow down.  I chuckled and went on my way. 

            Back in Ashabenford, I sold the beeswax for a pretty profit, and about half of the honey jars for a "sweet" price as well.  I went back up to Daz's house, gave him back the ring, which had proved mighty useful.  I asked him if there was anyway he could have another one like it made, and I would buy it.  He said that he couldn't do it himself, but would see what he could do about acquiring one.  Then, I gave him his jar of honey, as promised, and promptly showed him several incredibly sensual uses for the sweet, sticky, substance.  He was duly impressed, and even came up with an idea or two of his own. 

            From Daz's house, I went down to the inn, got cleaned up, and had a bit of a meal, then took another walk…this one in a more south and easterly direction.  I arrived at the Temple of the Golden Sheaf a few hours later…it only took that long because I had to wait for a damned ferry so I could cross the river.  I had with me a few priestly kinds of things that we couldn't sell in town.  I thought to sell them at the church, but naturally, I had more than one reason for wanting to go there. I still wanted to talk to the priest I'd met at the Shieldmeet festival…if he would even talk to me.  I had more than a few questions for him about the religion of Chauntea, the outlander gods, and the idea that the party members were possibly cursed or possessed.  And…he was rather cute…the two elves had been nice, but they were rather small, and short in stature…and I did like my large human men…and Andar certainly fit the bill…and he had seemed interested…

            So, I went in.  I didn't see Andar at first, but one of his fellow priests was nice enough to go and fetch him for me, after buying the items I'd gone there to sell.  Andar came out from one of the rooms at the side of the church a few moments later.  He looked as fine as he had the first time I'd seen him.  I have to give him credit…it only took him a moment to recognize me.  He did see a bit surprised to see me. 

            "Why, hello…Raine, isn't it?  I didn't expect to see you again." 

            "I know, but I have a few things I needed to talk to you about.  I'm sure you saw that whole…attack thing me and the others did…but believe me there's a tale behind it."

            "I thought that there would be.  I did see the…attack, but I noticed, as did some of the others there, that something was wrong.  It was your eyes, you see…when you and your friends were attacking, there was no expression on any of your faces, and your eyes were empty…like there was no one inside …and I knew that couldn't be right, since I'd spoken to you, and knew it to be untrue." 

            Andar was more than willing to have a talk with me.  He took me out to a bench in a fair sized garden behind the temple, where we wouldn't be bothered.  I started with all of the serious stuff first.  I told him the story, and what little I knew so far…about dying and awaking, and losing control.  I asked him if it was some kind of curse, or possession.  He cast some sort of priestly prayer, and when it was done, he told me that I was not possessed by any spirit… which ruled out the idea that the six dead priests we'd found had been killed for the purpose of possession.  And then, he told me that I was not cursed.  Now that I found strange, since I know damned well that I am…I can't believe that all the deaths in my life are coincidental.  Still, he didn't find anything…it makes me wondering if, perhaps the Earthmother…or Chauntea, as he called her, had some reason to hide the truth from me…which I couldn't really understand because she had saved me from death, after all, right?  I didn't comment on it to Andar, though…I'm obviously doomed to never know anything about the curse beyond what it does. 

            Once we got the serious stuff over, I moved on to the more interesting topics, openly beginning to flirt with the priest.  I asked Andar to tell me about the outlander gods and goddesses, and about the area we were in.  He was more than happy to oblige.  I learned that the outlanders have more gods than a Northman has hair on his ass.  They have gods for just about every facet of life…happiness, sadness, evil, magic, merchants, luck, fire, water, mischief, and stodginess…you name it, and there's a god to match.  I was amazed.  And Andar held all of that information in his pretty head, and recalled it without the slightest hesitation…still, for such a smart guy, it took him the better part of the afternoon to realize that I was flirting with him…and I wasn't being overly subtle.  I was practically sitting on his lap by the time he caught on.

            "…So…" I traced my finger down the side of his cheek, where there was a curious set of scars…three slashes, like a claw would make.  It didn't detract anything from his handsomeness, and certainly made him seem more… mysterious, I suppose.  They seemed like a good way to get the conversation moving towards a more…seductive direction, though.

            "How did you come by these?"  I asked, staring into his warm golden brown eyes.

            "I was attacked by a panther when I was twelve," he replied, giving me a curious look.  I only had to look down at his robes to see that he was definitely interested.

            "That's awful…how far do the scars go?"  I trailed my finger down his neck, and onto his chest, as far as his robes would allow.

            "Um…they…what are you…?"  He actually blushed as I straddled his lap…it was so cute! 

            "Raine?"  he asked…I'm not sure what he wanted to hear me say…so I kissed him instead, as I'd been fantasizing about for hours.  He liked it…didn't pull away…his arms went around my waist, and he gripped me tightly as he began to kiss back.  Beneath me, he was harder than the wood the bench we were sitting on was made out of.  The kissing went on for a bit…he was a very nice kisser…not all sloppy or bruising like some of my past lovers.  He had fairly large hands, callused from working outside…they felt very nice on the skin of my back.  He started to move his hands further up my shirt, then he pulled away suddenly.

            "Wait…I…I'm not like this…I don't usually…um…"

            "Fuck?"  I supplied helpfully, running the my fingers along the edges of his ears…which I noticed then, were only a little less pointed than my own…there was obviously elf blood in him somewhere.  He shuddered a bit when I touched the points…hmm…  Despite his obvious pleasure at the sensual caress, he frowned at me.

            "…I don't usually make love with women on a first date."

            "Well, we're not really on a date, so it doesn't count…"  I kissed his neck.  He pulled back. 

            "Raine, wait…shouldn't we slow down, a bit?"   I stilled, caught his eyes again. 

            "We can stop if you want, Andar…but consider this:  I'm an adventurer with some sort of odd spell on me.  I could die at any moment…I could leave now and be killed on the road back to town.  I once believed that it was better to take your time…but time can stop in a flash of lightning…with people like me…this moment is all I have for certain.  Tell me no, and I'll go."  I felt serious...old, even…I probably would've even left, had he asked me to…but he didn't.  He stared at me for a minute, watching me closely.  Then he nodded, as though he'd understood…realized something that I didn't…  He took off his robe, and spread it out on the grass, then he laid me down on the robe, and began to kiss me again.  We only exchanged a few more words that afternoon.  I asked him if he would take the cassil, but he refused…I didn't question him about it, or try to force him to…it was his right, just as not taking the nararoot was mine.  However, I did inform him that he would have to make certain that he spilled his seed outside of me…that I didn't really want to have a baby.  He vowed that he would.  Yeah, I know…pulling out isn't really the most fool-proof method in the world, but it's worked for me up to this point, and if the fates were willing…and maybe some help from that outlander luck goddess…it would work a little longer.

            I guess that part of the garden was rather well isolated, and when Andar had said that we wouldn't be bothered there, he'd meant it.  We stayed out there the rest of the afternoon, and into dusk.  Andar was just the kind of lover I liked best…big, strong, and full of stamina.  He may not have had the elves' creativity, or dexterity, but he more than made up for it with his size, and constitution.  Darkness began to fall, and he carried me inside, to his small room…the one he'd come out of when I'd arrived.  We continued our "conversation" within, by the light of candles and the moon.

            Andar was a rather manly kind of guy…he seemed to like to be in control of everything, which was fine by me…seeing as I knew who really had the power.  But what surprised me, was that when we were done, he actually wanted to talk, to hold me…rather than just grunt and fall asleep, like most "manly" men I've known.  He asked me about my life, my past, and spoke of his as well.  He told me that his mother had been a half elf…see I knew it was there…and that she died to protect him.  When he'd been wounded by the panther, his father had taken him to the temple and he'd decided to become priest.  He wanted to know all about Lady Emilia and Jael, and the church of the Earthmother.  He seemed genuinely saddened when I mentioned their fate.  I mentioned Gull, briefly, and my life as a thief.  He seemed rather pleased when he managed to "trick" me into admitting my profession.  For that, I didn't bother to try to clean up my stories any for him…didn't bother to mention that I usually gave away large portions of money to those who needed it, that I only robbed people who could afford the loss.  He pestered me about Gull, as well… perhaps more because I didn't really wish to speak about Gull, than because of anything else.  To avoid further conversation, that I wasn't really willing to answer, I closed my eyes, and pretended to be asleep.  After a while, I wasn't pretending anymore.  I have to admit, though…having a man's arms wrapped around you; being held in a warm embrace…it's about the best way to go to sleep.

            The next morning, I was rather sore…I told you he was good.  At first I thought that he was gone, and I sighed, but then he came in, dressed, and sickeningly cheerful considering how early it was.  He swooped down and gave me kiss, then hauled me out of bed.

            "Come on then…the whole day is before us, and there's lots to do…unless you have to leave?"  His eyes and tone asked the question.

            "Do you want me to go?'  I asked.  I vowed not to be hurt if he said yes… after all, it wasn't like he was important to me.

            "Of course not," he replied easily.  "I just thought that you might want to come out and help me with some of the field work, today, seeing as you were once a ward of the church."   I surprised myself when I agreed, especially since staying in bed for the rest of the day was a much nicer sounding prospect.  So, up I got, and took up a rake and hoe, and followed him out.  We ended up working a fallow field a few miles from the temple.  The work came back to me easily enough, but as it did, so to did my memories of Lady Emilia and the others.  My memories were beginning to fade…It's been so long that I have trouble remembering what their faces looked like…but being in that field, working alongside Andar, I could squint my eyes, and almost imagine that it was Jael…that I could hear the Lady's voice, humming as she worked.  I was angry at how much it hurt to remember, and cursed my faulty head for being so clear today.  And damn Andar, too, for trying to be nice and not a self-absorbed, small-head dominated…man! 

            It was a fine day, despite everything…warm and bright, but not so clear that my fair skin burned.  It was pretty hard work, but I felt better for doing it…assuaged a bit of my guilty conscience and polished up a bit of my tarnished soul, I guess.  Honest work…bah…  A few hours after noon and we were done for the day, or so Andar told me.  He hauled me down to a small inlet on the river, rather secluded thanks to a copse of trees that grew on the banks.  I do so love sex in the water…   We cleaned off the dirt and sweat, then went back up to the church, to Andar's room, for another "arousing" evening.  Andar liked honey just as much as Dazelin…

            I ended up staying three days at the church.  Andar managed to pry more out of me than I would've liked, but I always was a sucker for a pretty face…especially when half-drunk on holy wine.  But, I managed to learn quite a bit about those gods as well…I wonder if it was a fair trade? 

Andar pestered me about all my secrets…not they were really important secrets, mind you.  He kept trying to get me to take hair out of the braid, and was very persistent in trying to find out why I wouldn't let him do it.  I managed to hold onto that secret though.  I didn't want to tell him…or anyone else for that matter the reason I would never let any man see my hair down.  It goes back to the whole virgin thing.  Since I'm obviously not one, there are a few things I'm intent on saving for the man I marry…although at this point, marriage is more of a vague fantasy than any potential reality.  I figure, if the time eve comes, I can truthfully be able to tell my husband that he's the only one of all my lovers ever to see my hair down…you see?  Virgin hair instead of body…although I'm certain most men would rather have the former and not the latter.  So I let Andar play with my braid, but not take it down…and I held firm in my refusal to give a reason.  Andar's a nice guy, but he sure is persistent…not at all like Dazelin or Inialos.  No, Andar wasn't anything like Dazelin.  Daz didn't mind my flippant jests and sarcasm, for he could toss one back as quick I could think them up.  Andar, on the other, hand kept asking me what I really thought, or what I meant whenever I would say something designed to shock or annoy.  He was rather serious most of the time, it seemed, and I kept getting the feeling that he was trying to figure me out, for some reason.  He didn't get upset or anything when I told him I had to go, just had the good grace to accept it, and let me know that I would be welcome back at the church anytime.  I was glad of both, but had to remind myself once again, that no matter how nice the people I met now where, I can't ever let them get to close to me…I can't ever let anyone I like…like Dazelin and Andar, Kedra and Guar, and even the others, meet the same fate as everyone else from my past.  Never again…not even if it means being lonely for the rest of my life, and hurting those who come to care for me.  After all, better wounded that dead.  

I met back up with the others on the fifth day after they'd gone their own ways.  None of us were sure what to do next.  We had a fair portion of wealth, now, but no clue as to where we needed to go to begin the removal of the awful tattoos.  Fortunately, as fate and the goddess of Luck, Tymora, would have it, something to do came to us.  While we were having lunch at the tavern in Ashabenford, and small man, in servant's livery came up to us.  He informed us that he master, Handergath, had heard of us, thanks to our rout of the Zhentish camp, and had a job that he would like to hire us for.  We agreed to meet the man. 

            Handergath proved to be a wizard, so ancient and wrinkled, that he looked as though a fair breeze would carry him off in pieces.  Despite his obvious great age, though, his eyes were as bright and clear as a young man's.  He spun us a tale of a tower in the forest of Cormanthyr that had once been the home of his old uncle, Donerras Bladesmith.  Apparently old "Donerras" was something of a wizard himself, and used hi s magic to make fantastic, enspelled weapons and such.  The tower was abandoned now, and somewhere within was Donerras' spell book, a book with a metal cover and clasps.  Handergath wanted us to go get it for him, since he was too old and frail to do it himself.  I noticed that Guar was sniffing the air a great deal, while we were in there.  I breathed deeply, but didn't smell anything…not even food, which would've been nice.  He warned us that the tower might have creatures about it, considering that it was in the forest.  When he offered us each 100 gold up front, and more when we returned with the book, we decided to take the job.  After all, how hard could it be?

            I really have to stop asking stupid questions… how hard could it be?  Sigh.  It proved to be more than a minor pain in the ass, that's for sure and certain.  Once we got into the tower, the first thing we found were a whole bunch of men, dressed in dark garb, waiting for us.  We cleaned them up pretty quickly, but took a bit of damage in the process.  I suppose they could be construed as "creatures" if you asked the right person.  Then we noticed the tattoos on them…at least half of the mostly dead and a few unconscious louts, had a tattoo on them…a tattoo that matched the middle tattoo on our arms.  We quickly pried it out of them that they worked for something called the "Cult of the Dragon," and that the tattoo was a symbol of said cult.  Apparently this "Cult" worshipped dragons like gods…some people are just so damned weird!   

            They told us that their leader was downstairs, so we prepared for further battle and headed below.  Their leader only had one guard with him…and the leader looked strangely familiar…as though we'd already met him.  Then it hit me…take about 60 years of age and wrinkles off, and the leader looked exactly like the man who'd hired us…Handergath.  Guar began sniffing the air, and growled.  I knew that I had to be right.  The leader turned to us and attacked, opening with a volley of different magical spells.  Guar and Kedra went for the guard, while the rest of us concentrated on our "employer," who'd obviously set us up. A bit of pepper in his eyes momentarily blinded the wizard, making his spells less effective.  Then, when it appeared that he was trying to retreat, headed directly for a brazier in the next room; I used a tangle foot bag on him, stopping him dead in his tracks.  I hopped into the mess as well, but close enough to continue fighting.  A solid right to his jaw with the hilt of my cutlass stunned him long enough for me to tie the ropes about his arms and fingers…stopping him alive.  The guard, naturally, was dead. 

            The next bit of trouble came from the party.  They were all furious, naturally, and had murder on their mind.  Now, I knew that in order to find out what in the hells was going on, questioning was in order.  To that goal, I had to try to question the very uncooperative wizard, and keep the party members from slaughtering, or at the very least, torturing him.  Sigh.  Handergath wouldn't say anything except that he had, indeed, set us up, and that there was no spell book.  They'd all been sent here to kill us, and I got the idea that it had something to do with the tattoos and our failed attempt to assassinate Randle Morn.  Since he wasn't talking, I set upon an idea to get the answers I wanted, willing or nay.  While I dug in my potion bag, though, that rotten wizard managed to wiggle his hands free, and try another spell.  Before anything major could happen, I took a leap, and tackled his sorry, robed butt into the goo from the tangle foot bag, slamming his hands and fingers into it.  There was no way in the 9 hells that he could cast after that…at least not until the goo would dissolve in an hour or so.  I downed the potion, something I'd found in the Zhents' fort, and began to ask my question.  Mainly I wanted to know who was in charge of having the tattoos put on us…or at least the name of the person who would know that information, where their main camp was, and why he was running to brazier, since there was nothing odd about it, save that it was filled with an off white, sandy substance that none of us could identify.  He refused to answer, but in the end, his own thoughts gave him away, as the potion gave me the ability to hear the thoughts in his head.  So after asking him the name of his leader about twenty times, he finally thought it, even though he would not say it.  Shamour…it was uncannily familiar, like Lord Morn had been…I knew that he definitely had something big to do with the Cult symbol tattoo.  I learned from his mind that their camp was more of a city they'd taken over in the forest of Cormanthyr, and that the way to get there was by using the sand in the brazier, and throwing it at a large "drawing" on the wall in the same room.  Satisfied, I told the party what I'd learned, and got up off Handergath, just in time to hear Guar mumble about having to "make water", whipping it out, and aiming at the wizard.  Now, I was feeling a bit miffed at how we'd been betrayed, but I had the answers we needed, and there was no need to further humiliate, or torture the idiot.  So, I stopped Guar the quickest way I could think to…I grabbed hard, wrapped my fingers around his little…er…big friend, and yanked him over to the wall…Guar whimpered.

            "No Guar, bad.  We don't make water on people.  It isn't polite."  Guar merely nodded, and was so relieved when I released him, that he didn't even complain about it.  I heard someone behind me mutter about how they would never touch such a dirty body part…in less nice words than I'd've used, then heard Kedra exclaim, indignantly, that she 'd given Guar a bath just yesterday, and he was clean everywhere, thank you very much!   I'm beginning to wonder about those two…a dwarf and a half-orc…I shudder…doesn't seem possible, but maybe Kedra's a kinky lass.  I know even I'm not that daring, though. 

            We didn't go through the portal right away.  First, we checked around the rooms down there.  We discovered a hidden room that apparently Handergath hadn't found.  Within two books…a spell book, and a book entitled: Donderras' Guide to Enchanting Blades.  Apparently, Handergath's lie hadn't been quit a complete lie after all.  We then hauled all of the living men back to Ashabenford, where we promptly dropped them off with the Riders, at the jail.  When we told them that they were all working for the Cult of the Dragon, and had tried to kill us, the Riders seemed surprised.  They told us that they did know of the Cult, but hadn't thought that there were any active in the area.  We informed them otherwise, and told them that we were going to go and scout out a possible city full of them.  They wished us Tymora's favor…I guess that means luck in the outlands…but did not offer assistance.  I suppose that that's well enough, though, because it'll be easier to snoop around with a smaller group…even though in our case, smaller didn't really mean quieter. Before heading back, I made a quick stop at Dazelin's, and dragged him with us.  I wanted his wizardly opinion on the sand, the wall, and the picture of the city.  He didn't have much actual information about the area, because he hadn't grown up here, but rather in someplace called the Underdark, that's underground, somewhere.  Andar, no doubt, would've known more, but I hadn't the time, nor the rest of the party, the patience to get him.  So we took Daz. 

            Dazelin proved to be little help.  He knew nothing of the city, or the magic used for the gate.  He did, however, "test" the gate by throwing some of the sand on it.  The picture began to glow, and suddenly, there was an opening like a cave in front of us.  There were a few minutes of heated arguments while we tried to decide what to do.  Thinking that this portal was perhaps like the one in the Zhent camp, we decided to go through, prepared or not.  Dazelin agreed to take to horses back to Ashabenford…yes, even I have a horse, though by the gods, I don't ride it…I just keep it to carry the heavy shit.  We're building up a fine friendship, that horse and me…as long as we both keep our feet on the ground, and I feed it, we're both happy.

            Directly beyond the darkness, the cave opened up into a larger room, obviously a shrine of sorts.  Continual flame torches burned in sconces on the walls, and a pool of water covered up roughly a third of the space.  The statue of a regal looking woman stood near the far wall.  All around there were patches of luminescent moss.  There was no one in the shrine, which was to a goddess named Mystra, so Durand stated, so we went out.  We promptly got into a fight with a few more of the Cultists…sentries, no doubt.  We killed all but one, that one kept alive for questioning.  We did notice something weird though… some of the Cultists, while human seeming, had strange scales and such growing on their skin.

            We questioned the one little cultist, and he told us a bit, but not much, for he didn't really know much.  He told us that down the path, was the Tower of Bones, and that while he didn't know where Shamour was, there were wizards and clerics in the tower who surely would.  He said that the scaliness we'd noted was some sort of strange effect caused by the magic of the forest around the city…that he didn't know why it was happening, only that it did.  He added that there was some digging going on, and the Zhents were looking for something magical in the crypts, but he wasn't sure what…only that it was important.  We tied him up, since he'd been so cooperative, and hid him in the shrine.   We scavenged the cloaks and such from the Cultists and put them on, thinking to use the same disguise plan as we had with the Zhentarim. Then we headed on our way down the path towards the river, where we would find the tower. 

            Suddenly, a voice from the shadows and bushes called out,

            "What in the nine hells are you doing?  If you go marching out there, the Cultists will kill you!  Come over here, and we'll talk."   Since it sounded like only one person, and we really were headed into danger blind, we decided that it could hurt too much to see what the person had to say.  The person turned out to be a gnome…I still think gnomes are odd looking…like dwarves and halflings and human and elves all in one, though I doubt any gnome worth his salt would be happy with my assessment.  He was dressed in a dark cloak, and leather armor, and I instantly recognized him as a fellow "tradesman."  He told us that he and his brother, Robalend had been scavenging items from the city…I wonder if this damned city has a name…when the Cultists arrived and began digging in the tombs in the cemetery in the western part of the city.  He said that the Cultists started bringing in all sorts of undead guards and such that were patrolling the city, and that they were obviously up to no good.  Then, his brother was captured by the Cultists a day ago, and was being held in the Tower of Bones.  The gnome…his name was Tarbash…feared that the Cultists were going to kill his brother, and asked us to help him.  We couldn't really refuse, since we were going up into the Tower of Bones anyhow.  He told us that if we helped, he would share all the information he and his brother knew about the city…and that was reward enough.  Tarbash also told us that he had some magic items he was willing to sell…I wasn't interested, but the others were.   Only Sinyalla bought anything…a scroll with a fireball spell on it, which is strange, because I don't think that she can use magic.  I do know the basics of using scrolls and such, as it was something Gull had taught me…but I'm not really good at it, and save the few spell scrolls I have for use as a last resort.  I suppose they'd probably be more useful to me as gold in the pocket, but…well, one never knows. 

            Tarbash pointed out the way, even though we already knew it, and claimed he would meet us inside, that he had his own way in…a way that we were all too big for.  No one argued.  So we made out way to the Tower of Bones.  As we walked up, we saw that the Tower was indeed, built in the middle of a graveyard, with small graves, and larger Cairns scattered about. There were small clusters of people digging in some of the graves, but they did not look up as we passed… I guess our disguises were working.  We made our way straight to the tower, and went in.  We were stopped in the entryway by a set of guards, one of the obviously of a wizardly bent.  They asked us what we were doing here.  I told them, in my best bluffing voice, that Shamour had sent us here to pick something up, implying that whatever it was, was none of their business.  It worked, not only with the first set, but also with all of the successive sets of sentries we passed on our way up.  We finally made it to the rooftop.  A robed Cultist stood next to a stone altar, upon which was shackled a very frightened looking gnome.  Nearby, there were 8 zombies, their throats slit, so fresh that the blood leaking out was still red…they couldn't have been killed and reanimated more than ten minutes previous to our arrival.  The priest…for that was what he obviously was, turned to us…and I knew our trick would not work on him, for he was obviously the one in charge in this tower. 

            "No mere guards would be fool enough to come up without my permission…so you must be intruders, then.  While the Lord of the Forsaken Crypt does not mind your interruption, I think he would be better served if we added you to our collection.  Praise the dragon!"  The zombies turned and began to shamble towards us, and the lone living human guards brought up his weapons.  The priest began to cast, chanting a dark prayer to a, no doubt, equally as dark god.  Suddenly, another voice called out.

            "Praise this, you death-loving freak!"  Then, from the shadows, I saw Tarbash step forward, and hurl a flaming flask towards the cultists.  It erupted in a wash of liquid fire.   The battle began in earnest.  I headed straight for the main priest, as did Saldenon and Durand.  I didn't see her, so I didn't know what Sinyalla was up to, and I heard Guar having a go with the living guard, Kendra hacking away at dead corpses. 

            I'm not a good one for writing down every slash of a sword, every action taken in battle…hells, half the time I don't even remember what I did in a battle.  I do know that I gave that priest several good slices, but he dodged any of the ones that would have seriously incapacitated him.  He managed to cast another prayer, and a wave of doom swept over us in a flash, then it was gone again, and me left gasping with pain at the feel of evil.  The zombies seemed to rally a bit, and combined their efforts to grapple Kedra and attempt to pitch her off the side.  Fortunately, Guar took down the live guard, and when to the dwarf girl's aid.  Meanwhile, I struck a nasty hit to the priest's side.  He chanted again, and his hand began to glow.  He touched my should, hardly more than a graze, but such pain shot into me that I dropped to my knees.  He held on a moment longer, and then the fight was over for me, as I lost consciousness.  I can't really say what happened after that, only that I knew I was near death.  I could almost see that light, gray, place again…knew that I was standing at the threshold of death, and that if I took one more step, It would be over for me…again.  I could've done it.  It would've saved me a great heap of trouble, I assume…but I decided to wait a bit…to see what would happen.  Not surprisingly, I was dragged back to consciousness, and away from the edge a moment or two later, as one of my party members must've healed me.  I felt like shit, and I could hardly move until I managed to down a potion of healing.  So, then I looked around, saw that the priest was dead, as were all the zombies.  The gnome was freed, and Durand was standing by the stairs heading up, for the sound of rallying voices came from below.  I had yet another potion, and felt steady enough to rejoin battle.  Suddenly, from below a black beam of energy shot up and hit Durand square in the chest.  He went down wheezing, and hacking.  Tarbash and brother managed to get the human noble out of the way just in time, as more Cultists charged up the stairs to their death.  Simply put, I do believe we ended up fighting most of the residents of the damned tower.  Our strategy was to let most of the straight fighters up top with us and let Kedra and Guar have a go at them.  Guar went down once, but a potion neatly revived him.  Saldenon and I went down the stairs and took the fight to the spell casters.  The more powerful one was a woman with claw bracers on.  I slashed her face once, and it hardly seemed to faze her.  She cast spells and when they hit me, they seemed to drain the very life from me; all the while she seemed to heal.  Damned vampiric bitch! I fixed her good, though.  Tired of her casting, I stopped the spells the only way I knew how.  I grabbed hold of her bracer, and with a mighty strike, drove my cutlass into her arm, half severing it.  I probably would've gotten all the way through, had it not been for the bones.  Then, I went to "sleep" again, as a volley of those damned glowing energy balls shot from the fingers of one of the other mages and connected with me.  I woke up again a few minutes later, by the use of another potion, given to me by Sal.  The mages, but for one, were dead…including that one bitch…she looked as though she'd been mauled by a bear.  Kicking the corpse in the ribs hard enough to hear a crack only gave me a little satisfaction. 

            We'd taken quite a beating, but we won…we'd defeated all those in the tower, but, however, if any had gotten away, there was a chance that the rest of the Cultists might've been warned about the trouble. 

            We quickly found out that Durand was out for the count.  Whatever had hit him had made him violently ill and feverish.  He would need more healing than we could give him at the moment, and there was no way we yet knew of to take him back to the temples by Ashabenford.  So the gnomes agreed to take him back to the shrine of Mystra and take care of him, until we returned. 

            With the help of the one wizard, that Sinyalla had somehow charmed, we looted the Tower, searching for anything that could help us, including information.  We did learn, from him, that the Cultists were searching for something in a specific crypt, but that they needed a key to get in, and that the key was what everyone was currently looking for. Though we searched the whole tower, and found quite a bit in the way of treasure, we found no key…not even a reference to a key.  We did have to kill a few more Cultists who apparently hadn't bothered to join the rooftop brawl…including one nasty fellow who'd just finished skinning some sort of humanoid creature in a room that looked distinctly like a torture chamber.  In the priest's room, we ran across a huge badger, but I dealt with it easily enough, by opening up a jar of honey, and setting it down.  The badger cheerfully went to work on the honey, leaving us free to explore with out having to go through yet another fight.    The first thing I noticed was a tapestry depicting and evil, gaunt looking woman, sacrificing a handsome man on an altar, with hordes of undead standing around.  Naturally, I didn't like the tapestry at all.

"Damned waste of a fine looking man, " I muttered.  I vaguely knew of the concept of sacrificing lives to gods, but it seemed alien and foreign to me, and turned my stomach.  Not even Tempus, for all his many faults condoned sacrifices, or deaths beyond what was found in "honorable" battle.  We found a secret cubby hole in the room which contained a yellowed scroll, written in some form of elven that none of us could read, a page torn from a book, that glowed a bit, a stoppered bottle, 3 platinum ingots, an uncut diamond, a journal and a pearl.  The journal appeared to be the priest's journal, but we decided that this was not the best place to read it.  We decided to wait a bit.  I got the feeling that some of the things were important, but none of us could figure out how. 

Finally, we'd checked out the whole tower, to no avail.  Our charmed mage told us that all of the important stuff happened at the castle of Cormanthyr, which was where we could find Shamour, as well.  We decided to head that way next.  We tied up the mage, for the spell on him would no doubt be wearing off soon.  I slung him over my shoulder, and we made to go out, and head back to the shrine, when suddenly, I caught a strange scent...a flowery smell that reminded me of…something…the headache came up faster that the current of a flooded river.  I dropped to my knees, helpless…: Shit…bad timing: was my last thought, as the haze of agony forced the consciousness from my mind…forced my eyes shut.  I began to scream…

            I wasn't too certain how long the "episode" lasted, only that the sun was far lower in the sky than it had been earlier, when I awoke.  My head hurt like hangover after a night of drinking 2 silver rotgut at the cheapest tavern in Caer Callidyrr.  I felt a large bruise on my face, and a lump forming on the same side of my head.  Either one of mysterious bruises had occurred again, or one of the party members had hit me to try to shut me up.  I suspected the latter, seeing as the pain radius was about equal to the side of Guar's hand…

            I sat up gingerly…no other pains evident.  I looked around to take stock of my surroundings.  We were back in the shrine, where we'd entered the city.  Durand was lying on a pallet neck to the pool.  His face was still red and blotchy from whatever illness had struck him down, but the skin underneath no longer appeared unhealthily ashen.  I saw that the whole party was there as well, scattered about the cave, sleeping in bedrolls, even though it wasn't night.  I would've loved to know how any of them had managed to fall asleep with me screaming…but Sal was an odd one…Sinyalla, too…and Guar was rather noisy himself, so I imagined that if his people were anything like himself, he'd learned to sleep through noise.  The two gnomes were there as well.  They, at least had cloth wrapped around their heads.  Kedra was the only one awake…standing guard, I suppose.  Our captured wizard was unconscious in the corner, alongside the guards we'd caught earlier.  I ignored Kedra, feeling rather surly.  When they all woke up I was certain that explanations were going to be demanded, and I had no intentions of giving one…not that I could in any event, anyhow.  Thinking to quietly kill some time, I pulled out the journal that we'd found earlier, and took a swig from my flask of whiskey.  The drink took care of the headache caused from the bruise, but did nothing for the headache I gave myself trying to puzzle through the mad rantings of that book, trying to glean any useful information from it.  There did prove to be a few things that might potentially be significant.  The journal belonged to the high priests, Ryngoth…the now deceased Ryngoth.  He was, apparently some sort of "Red Wizard of Thay," as well as a priest, and the badger we'd found was his familiar, "Zulkir."  He wrote that a woman named Kya Mordrayn was in charge of the Cultists stationed in Myth Drannor, and that he, Ryngoth, was also under his command, had envied her position, and would have like to change her position to one that was beneath him…preferably on a bed, that is.    The Cult had apparently found "an invaluable source of magic power long hidden in the ruins of Myth Drannor."  Apparently the Cult planned to use the "magic" pool for some nefarious purpose involving dragons and someone named "Pelendralaar."  They'd learned that they could increase the pool's power by having it absorb magical items, and that they were searching through the crypts for said items.  I didn't particularly like the sound of magic pools and corruption…it reminded me of a story that Jael had told us about the Moonwell, and Bhaal… There was reference to the Cult tainting something called a "mythal," to better harness the pool's magic, and that was the reason for the scaliness of the city's inhabitants, who were apparently manifesting draconic-like forms.   The wizard/priest spoke of a dead magic zone near something called the "Irithlium," and how the Cult had been thus far, unable to negate the effects.  He mentioned that we were not the first band of adventurers who'd entered the city…but that the others who had, had been "for the most part" dispatched, and that soldiers of the Cult would soon find and eradicate the rest of the survivors.  I hoped that they'd failed in that endeavor…it would be nice to have some potential aid running around...or at least a distraction.  The final entry spoke of items found in a crypt that dated back before the city's fall…one was a page ripped from some sort of good, holy book.  Apparently, old Ryngoth didn't care for that page, as he claimed it "sickening" and had tried to destroy it, without success.  I assumed that it was the torn page that we'd found with journal.  Maybe we could find the rest of the book and read it aloud to the Cultists and they we all drop over dead at the "sickening" goodness.  I laughed quietly at the thought, and shut the bloody journal.  I had another shot of whiskey…I needed after the fiasco of that awful journal. 

            About that time…roughly four hours or so after I'd awoken, the rest of the party…even Durand…began to stir.  Within a few minutes, they were all awake again.  Guar was groaning, and telling everyone to shut up.  I gathered that he had a hangover of sorts, from whatever he'd consumed to get to sleep.  :Good!:  I thought, viciously…serves him right for hitting me.  But, my unfortunate good nature took hold, and I offered him a drink of the Moonshaes' finest…aged more than two years in the flask.  Guar took it, chugged it down, and grimaced.  I guess he wasn't used to a drink that could peel the paint from walls with its vapors.  Kedra snatched the flask from Guar and availed herself of a healthy dose, and then complained loudly about it being a "weak" brew.  Dwarves!  They aren't happy with a drink…even if it is the best Moonshae rotgut I didn't bother to buy…unless it can melt steel like acid.  I took back my flask and hid it away.  No sense in being overly charitable.  His Lordship and I exchanged a few verbal stilettos…nice to see that he was recovering so quickly…something to do with the healing properties of the water of the shrine, we guessed.  Still, and all, I took great joy in reminding him that his face…of which he was rather proud…looked as though he'd rolled in a patch of poison ivy. 

            It was Saldenon who finally confronted me.

            "What happened?"  He demanded.  "You were screaming like the demons of the 9 hells had hold of you."  He narrowed his creepy eyes at me.  I think he was wondering if I was a real banshee in disguise…that would've at least made things easy, but no…   I wasn't feeling particularly cooperative at the moment, not after three different types of headaches in a row.  And I particularly disliked the promise of a coming inquisition.  I shrugged.

            "I'm possessed," I replied with a grin.  He gave me a skeptical eyebrow-raise.

            "Maybe you are too," I added, even though I knew my coming words to be false.  "Think about it…there were 6 dead men, and 6 of us, and us not able to control our actions.  It could be just magic…or maybe were all possessed."  I winked at Sal.  He grumbled something about how he'd know if he was possessed by demons.

            "I didn't say anything about a demon, " I stated.  I'd noticed that Sal seemed rather preoccupied with hells, and demons…and there were those hoofs of his that he thought the rest of the party didn't know about…

            "Why are you so bothered by demons, Sal?"  He muttered something indistinct.

            "And what's a tiefling?"  I continued.  He seemed startled by that query, but only momentarily.

            "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.  I let it be…I had my secrets, and I guess he had his.  I'd ask Daz and Andar about the word later…maybe they'd have some insight.  I'd thought I'd suitably steered the subject clear of me, but I was wrong…as usual.

            "Why you scream?"  Guar demanded.  I shrugged…it wasn't like a had an answer…and I wasn't about to submit a description of my dream…which incidentally, I'd had again…only this time the person on the other side had seemed clearer than ever…for the party to ridicule.

            "What should we do the next time you start screaming?"  Saldenon sneered.  I was amazed that His Lordship wasn't getting into it, but I recalled that he, too, was unconscious at the time.  No matter, it seemed that Saldenon had more than happily taken Durand's place for the moment.  Irritated, I snapped,

            "Cast a silence spell on me and dump me at church…that's what everyone else does."  I know it wasn't quite true, but I figured it would be sage advice for the party.  I didn't really want to trust myself to their care anyhow.  Priests…real ones, and not the Guars and Durands of the world, were probably mildly better equipped to deal with me anyhow.  Maybe I would warn Andar of my "problem" and inform them to take me to the Abbey of the Golden Sheaf.  At least that way I could wake up to a pleasant face…except that I didn't really want Andar to know how truly fucked up I am.

            "And what if we have no spells…can we silence you in other ways?"  Sal asked, cracking his knuckles, ominously.

            "Do whatever the hells you want…it's not like I could stop you," I bit out.  Geez…what the hells had I done to get his ass so riled? 

            Refusing to go on with the conversation, which was getting us nowhere, I turned to the gnomes, and handed over the piece of parchment we'd found, but could not read.  Tarbash couldn't read it, but his brother could.  The scroll was written in ancient elven, and referred to the creation of runes and words of power to secure important portals against invasion.  The runes would prevent great treasures from falling into enemy hands.  The author specifically mentioned two runes…the rune of the stars, and the rune of the sun.  The two runes protected powerful items, and respected individuals' in the Polyandrium. 

            I spoke of what I'd read in the journal.  That information, coupled with what was on the scroll determined our new destination.  We would try to seek out the two runes, and the items of power within the two crypts before the Cult did, and try to stop them from doing whatever they were up to.  I mentioned that if we could find our way to the top members of the Cult by thwarting them that we would probably meet up with Shamour.  I figured it would put things in perspective for the rest of the party, in case they wanted to have a self-oriented reason for doing this.  As much as I wanted the tattoo of the Cult gone from my arm, I wasn't about to let what the Cult was doing go unchecked.  If that meant looking for more trouble than was necessary, so be it.  I wasn't really certain what was going on only that it was bad.  Jael's story of the Moonwell was well ingrained in me…I didn't know if this "pool" was anything similar, but it sounded powerful.  And any power in the hands of people evil enough create zombies as slaves, and crazy enough to worship dragons, had to be removed.  It was only right…and I would not renege on my vows…I would make Lady Emilia proud…I would defeat these Cultists to protect others…those in the communities surrounding this forest who would suffer for the evil being done here…and I would do it without regard for my life…which would be nothing if I could not keep my promises.

            The gnomes agreed to guide us around the city…they had no love of the Cult, and felt they owed us for our aid.  They showed us through the Polyandrium, and to the crypts.  We avoided the crypts that looked to have been already looted, or had any activity near them.  The first one we came to was a crypt sealed with a rune of the wolf.  We found the rune next to the door, a scrap of a paper with the command word alongside it.  On the door itself, was a chalked warning…"Dangerous!  Wait until Shamour is available!"  The sight of that name alone would've prompted us to enter the crypt, dangerous or no.  We figured that if it was dangerous, it was powerful, and so, removing it from the Cultists now, would be advantageous.  In we went.  The door opened easily since we hand possession of the rune.  Stairs led below, and opened into a rectangular chamber, with statues of elven warriors within.  We bumbled right into the first traps…At least, I did.  I avoided the firetrap, but ran right into the spear one.  After the spear pierced my leg, I noticed that it was coated with a greenish substance.  Poison, of course.  Thankfully, I remembered that one of the effects of the chalice we'd taken from the Zhents was its ability to neutralize poisons.  I poured a bit of water in and drank it down, quickly, after removing the spear.  The burning sensation that was beginning to spread through my leg vanished.   I breathed a sigh of relief, and pointed out what to avoid to the others.  We moved onward.  We found some tapestries, which we took, after a moment's hesitation.  Saldenon took the opportunity to try to insult me.

            "What's the matter, Banshee?  I thought you liked robbing the dead?"

            "I do," I replied quickly enough.  "It's not like they need it…it's just the prospect of undead that bothers me."  Saldenon shut up…thankfully, as I was seriously considering what kind of damage I could do to him without doing it directly, to avoid the tattoos'  "safeguards."

            We found a trapped sarcophagus in one room that Durand and I wound up opening.  I got a good lungful of the greenish gas that came out, and ended up hacking and wheezing for the next few minutes.  Even after I'd cleared my lungs, I didn't feel so hot. 

            In a room, thick with the scent of dead flowers, we found another coffin, and six ceramic jars.  There were elven engravings all over the coffin.  They read "Honored Kesefehon, great warrior, exemplar of his race, we shall never forget him."  Within the sarcophagus was the dead body of an elf, with a sword and breastplate, both with the same wolf insignia as the front door.  As we went to remove his stuff, the body got up, and attacked with a roar.  Lighting a torch, I lit the body on fire, while the others beat on the creature.  I really dislike undead…we managed to kill it, but only after it had done a good bit of damage.  After we took the sword and breastplate, we left, as that was all there was to the crypt.  Sigh.

            We moved onto another crypt…but it was locked, and there was no rune with it.  By the star symbol on the door, we knew it was one of the crypts we were looking for.  It hadn't yet been opened, which was a good thing.  We continued on, to search another crypt, in order to find the rune of the stars.

            The nest crypt was blocked by pieces of a broken statue of a mounted human man.  Guar easily moved them.  The door was propped open by a stone, and as we searched the crypt, we discovered that another group of adventurers...not Cultists…had already been in the crypt, but had died inside.  The lower levels of the crypt proved to be flooded by two feet.  We ended up fighting a bunch of undead...skeletons, mostly, and a bunch of two-foot tall elven statues that animated and attacked after Durand grabbed a sword from a pedestal in the center of the room.  We ended up finding two other long swords …two of the three ended up being keys to a huge door inside the crypt.  In the same room as the door, we found the bodies of the adventurers, long dead, and looted them.  One of them…an elf had a book, which, like the page we'd found in the cleric's room, had a sun symbol on it.  Upon sticking the page in the book, I discovered that it had been torn out of the book.  I laughed to myself.  Maybe my idea of boring the Cult to death with a book of goodness might work after all…if we could find the last missing page. 

              In the room beyond the door, were more dead people, who, unfortunately got up and attacked.  We had to have a healing potion break after that room.  Finally, we found the final crypt.  Inside was the body of a man, features still visible.  It was rather creepy.  The corpse was holding onto a rune stone, which proved to be the rune of stars, after we wrestled it out of his dead hands.

            We headed back out, but as soon as we cleared the front door, we found an ambush waiting for us.  There were a dozen Cult warriors and one wizard, who was grinning arrogantly.  They appeared to have been waiting for us.

            "Well, well..." the wizard began, no doubt about to roll into a speech of cocky evil.  We thwarted his plans when all of us bolted back down into the crypt.  The look of surprise on the wizard's face was classical.  Back in the tomb, as soon as we realized that they weren't going to follow us down, we came up with our "great plan."  We tossed about ideas of using magic and such, but settled on rushing the wizards, to preclude the use of spells on us, and then taking out the fighters as quickly as possible.    We didn't wait long, as we didn't want to give the Cultists time to get reinforcements. 

            Our idea worked better than we'd hoped.  The wizard went down in three attacks, as we killed him before he could get any protective spells up.  Unfortunately, at our quick success the warriors broke ranks and began to run.  We had to stalk them down, and kill, or knock them out.  We hid all of the bodies, dead and alive, in the crypt.  On the body of the wizard, we found two scrolls.  One was a drawing of the rune of stars, with the command word "venik-rhaa" written beneath it.  The other was a hastily scrawled letter.  It read,   

            "Nevessam-

            You must break the seal on the crypt of Rothilionas soon as possible.  The Wearers of the Purple grow anxious, and I have been told by Mordrayn that the phylactery has arrived for the contingent ceremony.  We shall soon have our hands on the items within the Crypt of Orbakh, so we may include them in the immersion ritual.  Take care, little brother, that you acquire the rune of the Sun soon, or Mordrayn and Peledralaar will be displeased.

            Oh, and I'm putting a pox on that pet that Ryngoth favors so much.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  -Shamour"

            So…we'd killed Shamour's brother?  I wonder if that would make the man who'd help mess with our lives...whoever he was, happy…hehehe.  We didn't understand what much of the letter was about.  The gnomes knew where the two crypts were…the first was the crypt of the star rune, where we were headed next.  It seemed likely that the rune of the sun was inside.  Sinyalla mentioned that the word "phylactery" had to do with liches…powerful undead that retained their intelligence…that a phylactery was an item in which a lich hid its soul.  Wonderful…I thought.   No one had any idea who the "Wearers of the Purple" were, though.

            Onward we went.  The crypt of the stars, or the crypt of Rothilion was in the north part of the Polyandrium.  Once we spoke the word and used the rune, a low rumbling noise began, growing louder until it was almost painful in intensity.  Finally, just as it began to hurt, the rumbling stopped leaving behind an eerie quiet.  The door opened suddenly, and with a thunderous crash.  A shining symbol, shaped liked a sun appeared between the open doors, and for a moment shone bright enough to burn.  It didn't harm any of us, though, and we entered as quickly as possible.  We knew there would be little enough time to find what we needed and escape before the Cultists, who had to have heard the noise, showed up to investigate. 

            On the floor directly inside the crypt was what could only be termed a warning.  It read, as best I can recall,

            "Here lies Rothilion the Honorable, Master Wizard and High Judge of Myth Drannor.  May all who seek it find his wisdom and kindness.  May all who would defile or destroy his legacy be cursed."  I guess that was our cue not to destroy anything…not that I had any intentions of destroying any part of Rothlion's legacy…although, if tempting enough, I might "relocate" it.  The first room we came into was a library.  Most of the books were in common, and so old that a touch seemed to crumble the pages to dust.  One whole shelf, I noticed, was filled with a set of books titled as the Chronicles of Rothilion.  I paged through a few of them, as the others were all doing, just to see what they were about.  Mostly they consisted of the writings of the Rothilion fellow.  They were, I suppose, his journals…not much different from this very one I'm now writing, only that there were hundreds of them.  I doubt that I shall ever be able to write down enough, or live long enough to blow as much wind as Rothilion did.  The last entry in the last book written in common was rather interesting …I don't really remember the details, but it was something to the effect that Rothilion forever gave up his ability to speak, write, or understand the common language in exchange for the knowledge of the elven mages who'd helped to build the city.  I thought that losing the language you've spoken all of your life was a harsh price to pay for information of any kind.  I mean, it wasn't like he'd learned anything that would save the world, his life, or the city…and in the case of the latter two, even if that's what he did learn, the knowledge failed him in the end, for the city was a ruin, and we were stalking through his crypt.  I wondered what information could possible be worth that loss…and if I ever had to choose between something important, and losing yet another irreplaceable chunk of my memory, which would I decide for?  It's not something I let myself think on for too long…unpleasantness and I being poor friends, though frequent acquaintances, and all that…

            In the back of that book, though, stuck just inside the cover, I made a discovery…I found the last missing page to the clericy book about Lathlander.  Hardly thinking about, I stuck the torn page back where it once was.  As I stuck the last page in I watched as the parchment rewove itself into the binding.  The book began to glow with a blinding light, that was a bit warm, sort of like the rising sun.  I nearly dropped the book, for fear that I'd set off some awful trap.  Whatever it was, though, I didn't think that the light was a bad thing.  For a moment, while watching it, I felt some of the stress and fatigue in my body ease…and it was almost as though we were being watched by some presence.  Then, as quickly as it had begun, the light vanished.  The book was back to being a plain book again, although it seemed as new as though it had just been bound.  The leather covered was green, I noticed for the first time, and was covered with small pieces of green jade, with a rosy hued  disk in the center…I think that was Lathlander's symbol…Lathlander being the outlander god of the morning, or something like that.  I glanced at the spine, and noticed that the book was titled the Testament of Jade.  I noticed the others looking at me…a few of them were glaring, as though I'd just set off a deadly trap that was now killing them.  I shrugged.  To the Hells with them anyhow…I had no idea that the book would behave in such an unbookish manner once reassembled.  It wasn't as though I'd summoned the wrath of Tempus down on us, did I?  I stuffed the book into my backpack.  Time enough to wonder what sort of magical traits the book possessed later.  Finding nothing else of interest in the library, we moved onward.

            It proved to be the last room in the crypt, which was surprisingly small, considering the fanfare we'd received upon entering.  The room had a high ceiling, and the walls were made of black stone with streaks of yellow throughout.  In the center of the room was a large stone coffin, no doubt old Rothilion himself.  We moved towards the coffin, intent on opening it, despite any traps, when the oddest looking creature I'd seen to date popped up from behind it. 

            Now, when I was growing up at the church in the Moonshaes, I'd stray often to the water.  I don't especially have an affinity for the water, but it is where I came from…the womb from which I was "born," so to speak, so I was interested in it.  Bedsides that, I found that sand is softer to fall on that stone or even dirt, when it comes to stumbling…of which I did a great deal of as a child.  Strange that I was so clumsy and uncoordinated then…and now, I can pick the pocket of the stingiest noble without overmuch effort.  Anyhow, I would explore the pools of water left behind by the outgoing tide, and occasionally I would find these tiny, little, squid.  They were usually about the size of my palm, pinkish-purple in hue, with one head, and bunch of little tentacles writhing out from it like points from a star.  This creature looked nothing so much as a human-looking person, only with a giant squid stuck on its shoulders where its head should've been.  The major difference between the squid I found and the squid creature before us…besides the size and the body, of course, was that this one was all shriveled and dry looking.  It looked to us, black eyes wide in shock.

            "The…door is open?"  It asked.  None of us answered…too shocked, I suppose at the creature's appearance. 

            "Open?!  At last!"  Then it bolted towards the open door behind us.  Now, if nothing else, I thought maybe we could get a bit of information out of this creature, so I slammed the door shut before it got there.  I guess it thought we were going to attack, because it cast a spell and summoned up a nasty looking wolf, which immediately set upon Durand, and Guar immediately set upon it.

            "Why do you want to escape?"  I shouted at it.

            "Because I've been trapped here for longer than I can recall…" it hissed, looking about for a way past us.

            "Let me go, and I shall give you treasure," it pleaded.

            "Now you're cooking with fire," I grinned.

            "Tell us where the rune of the sun is," I demanded.  The creature pointed to the sarcophagus.

            "In there…in a mahogany box.  Please…"

            "Is the box trapped, " I pressed.        

            "No…not trapped.  Let me out!"  I didn't see any harm in it…besides, it had answered…truthfully I hoped…and that wolf was really whaling away on Durand.  I opened the door.  Without a sideways glanced, the squid-thing dashed through the door, and disappeared down the corridor.  The wolf vanished a few moments later.  Durand was looking a bit worse for the wear. 

            We opened the lid of the sarcophagus, which was ridiculously heavy, requiring Guar, Durand, Kedra, and myself to lift it.  We would have asked Sal and Sinyalla, but frankly, they don't really seem strong enough to carry their own backpacks, sometimes.  The lid slid away to reveal the skeleton of a tall human, who was holding a long staff…get your mind out the gutters…not that kind of staff…and at his feet was the described box.  We took up the staff, which, though well made, did not seem very interesting beyond that, and opened the box.  There was no trap, and I was rather amazed that for once, I'd been told the truth…it was such a bloody rare occurrence.  Inside we found the rune of the sun, which looked just like the rune of the stars, only with suns on it instead.  There was a scroll with it, with a single word inscribed on it…the command word, no doubt.   In another locked chest that we found in the corner of the room, we found what must've been the creature's "treasure"… it proved to contain a scroll with a few spells on it that Kedra snatched up quickly, two emeralds that were rather nice…in size and value, and finally, a jade figurine, shaped liked the squid thing.  Not a bad haul, considering the lack of traps.

            We went back out…no Cultists waiting, just yet.  We shut the door behind us, hoping to slow down any potential pursuers by making them think that we'd not yet entered the crypt, or at least, were stuck inside.  The gnomes dragged us over to the crypt of the Sun, which was apparently actually called the crypt of Orbakh. 

            I expected a crypt of the sun to be beautiful...you know, covered with statues and trees and such.  What we walked up to was a crypt done in a motif of skulls and skeletons and other dead looking things.  The only sun was the rune on the door that matched the one on the stone.  Talk about weird…  The door open to our command without nearly as much fanfare as the previous crypt.  The stench of death and rot rolled out of the crypt like a wave of water, and left us momentarily reeling.  Stomachs lurching powerfully, we entered. 

            The crypt of Orbakh definitely took the prize for the weirdest, most disturbing crypt of them all.  The crypt was full of a myriad of different monsters…most of which I'd never seen or heard of the like before.  Here's the weird thing, though…all of the monsters were identical to each other, and all of them were naked as a newborn.  I don't really feel like going into detail about what went on in that crypt.  Suffice to say that we cleaned out much of the crypt, searching for…whatever the hell we were trying to find.  I found that shots to the groin area…seeing as most of the creatures were males…dropped the monsters far faster than any other type of hit…although I don't think that the men of the party appreciated my efficiency.  There were some things that were so disturbing, that we avoided them rather than fighting.  And one thing puzzled me the whole time…if this was a sealed crypt and there was no way in, save for the rune stone...how were these livings creatures getting inside, and on what were they subsisting on?  No one could think of an answer other than that, maybe there was another way into the crypt.

  Finally, we came upon the last room of the crypt.  There was stagnant, standing water covering the floor.  Continual light torches burned in the sconces, causing eerie reflections in the murky water.  A dais at the far end of the room held a stone sarcophagus…no doubt what we were searching for would be contained within.  Symbols and runes carved all about the room conveyed the meaning of death in many forms.  And in the center of the room, before the dais was the most bizarre scene I've ever scene in my entire life. 

            Half-submerged in the water was a rubbery sphere at least ten feet high and wide.  Tentacles lined with suckers shot out of the sphere at uneven intervals, intersped with smaller stalks…each with a single bulbous eye at the end.  One of the tentacles had a mouth at the end of it.  And, being held by one of the suckered tentacles was a bald, naked, man…exactly like one we'd run into earlier in the crypt, who'd attacked   The man spoke as we entered, but the words did not seem to match the movements of his lips.

"I am Famras, child and parent of Beautiful Flower.  She asks what you are doing here in her domain, and what you want.  I will not allow you to harm her.  We spoke with the things for a few moments.  It offered us the treasure in the sarcophagus in return for our allowing it to leave…like the squid thing…but unlike the squid thing, we all got the feeling that whatever this was, it was far more dangerous, and not something we should allow out to cause whatever havoc was going on in the crypt, in the outside world.  We let the creature think we'd agreed…let it move towards us...then we attacked.  Sinyalla concentrated on the bald, Famras, while the rest of us centered our attacks on "Beautiful Flower."  Ugly Blob would've been a much more appropriate name I thought, as I stabbed into the creature's rubbery hide with my cutlass.

The battle proved to be a tough one, with the creature flailing its tentacles, and trying to drag people under the water, but we were up to the task.  With so many of us attacking, it was difficult for "Beautiful Flower" to keep a bead on all of us, and so we prevailed.

Once Beautiful Flower became a dead "flower," we converged on the sarcophagus.  Within, we found a gold skull mask, a bunch of jewelry, a large piece of crystal in a cage made of precious metals, a strange mantle made of bone and wire, and an ivory scepter topped with a skull.  All very gruesome, although, none of it seemed to be overly important or magical in nature.  I was wrong, as usual. 

As soon as we'd lifted out the last item from the empty sarcophagus…I can only imagine what became of the body that'd been previously interred within…an image appeared before us, beginning as a distortion in the air, and solidifying into a semi-transparent image of a tall, impressive looking elf, with shriveled skin, and glowing eyes…still yet, another undead elf, I assumed.  He raised his hands in a symbol of peace, and carried no weapons, so we held ours.

            "I mean you no harm, " he told us.  "I am Molostroi, a baelnorn, undead guardian of this once great city.  I send this image to you, because you have touched Orbakh's ivory scepter, an evil item of power buried long ago in this crypt.  I am not here to warn you of its use, or coerce you to leave it in its place, but to ask you for help.   The Cult of the Dragon has discovered a pool of radiance within Myth Drannor, and used the power of the pool to corrupt the city's mythal.  Their ultimate goal is to immerse the dracolich Pelendralaar in the pool, magnifying his dread powers a hundredfold and allowing him to take control of the mythal, bending it to his own ends, and unleashing a flood of evil upon Faerun."  Now, I didn't really understand half of what that elf said…I didn't know what a mythal is, only that corruption is bad…but, I knew what a dracolich was.  When I had been living with Gull, strange things were happing all throughout the Moonshaes…there were horrible storms that were ravaging the islands and all anyone knew was that something evil was causing them.  It never mattered much to Gull or I since we had more important things to do that to worry about storms...like trying to survive when many people in the islands were starving and dying for lack of food caused by the storms.  At the end of the five–year period of storms, there was said to be a dracolich sighted in the skies over the Moonshaes.  Now I didn't see it myself, but enough people did that I had to believe the story was true.  A dracolich was an undead dragon of massive power…far beyond that of your average undead.  It was the only thing I'd ever heard of to lend proof to the idea that big dragons existed, and not just the little pseudo- and fairy dragons that lived through out the islands.  So the idea of a dracolich being turned loose, when I know how dangerous they are said to be, was not a very appealing idea. And as for a pool of radiance, well, it sounded nice, but a tainted pool, like a tainted well was certain to be bad…. over all, I came to a conclusion:  three "bad" things leading to a "flood of evil upon Faerun" was definitely very high on my list of very, very, very bad things.  Needless to say, whatever the undead…shudder…elf had to say, I was willing to listen, and more than likely would agree, no matter what our chances of survival were…after all, I meant to keep my vow.  The elf continued.

"The Cult is working with magic it does not quite understand, and is gambling that the immersion of the dracolich will not destroy him.  They are hedging their bets by bringing Pelendralaar's phylactery here and storing a fresh reptilian corpse nearby, so if the dracolich is killed by the pool, he can transfer his essence to the phylactery, posses the dead reptile and immediately try again.  Another one of my kind is in contact with another group of explorers in the ruins of the city.  They have agreed to battle the most powerful forces of the Cult, including the dracolich, but if they slay Pelendralaar he will only be forced to the phylactery-a temporary victory at best.  However, the item you have found here can be used to destroy the phylactery, making the dracolich's death permanent. This form is only an image, and cannot move objects. I need you to bring the scepter into the ruins of Myth Drannor and aid the attack against the Cult so that the mythal may be saved and repaired.  It is dangerous, but I know secret paths.  Will you aid me?"  I wanted to say yes immediately, but the others were quiet for a moment.  Once again, I decided to give them an obvious reason to help out...a personal goal.

"If we help with this, we're certain to find Shamour,"  I mentioned. They looked at me, and I could see the realization in their eyes…the reluctant agreement.

"We'll help," I said to Molostroi.  He nodded.

            "Good…go now, quickly, to the crypt of Lyssic.  There is a secret door behind his sarcophagus.  A tunnel there, will lead you into the city's barracks.  I shall speak with you again shortly."  Then he vanished. 

            We did his bidding without delay, and a short time later, we found ourselves climbing up into the ruins of old barracks. A few moments after arriving, the baelnorn reappeared.  He quickly explained to us what we needed to do next.

"Just across the street from here is Castle Cormanthor.  Beneath the castle, below the main underground chambers of the citadel, is the pool of radiance and Peledralaar's phylactery.  You need to make your way down to the phylactery and use Orbakh's scepter to shatter it.  I don't believe that you'll be able to fight the Cult forces straight on from here, they are too many, and you are far too few, despite your bravery.  You will need to use stealth and trickery from here on out, and here I can help you, with spells and information.

Just to the northwest of the castle, on the other side of Dragoneyes street is a small plot of land that appears to be nothing more than a pile of rubble.  In truth it is a sacred place of Sehanie Moonbow, elf goddess of the moon and dreams, guarded by illusions and spells to warn away evil and undead.  If you go there, and look past the spells you will be able to rest there, as it is a much safer place than these barracks.  Also, next to the temple is a patch of blue glow moss…if you should need healing, rest on it.  Go now, and I shall visit you in the morning so that we may prepare ."

            So we made our way to the temple, found it and rested on the blue glowing moss.  It worked just as he'd said, and come morning, the worst of my wounds, aches, and pains were gone.  I felt as rested as though I'd spent a night in a topnotch inn, and not a patch of moss.  Molostroi showed up, as promised and we quickly went over our plan of attack, as he warned us that the Cultists were becoming aware of our activities in the ruins.  Basically, we had to get into the Castle, avoid the upper levels, and go downstairs.  The first lower level had Cult soldiers, while the second had something called dragon kin…this was sounding better and better all the time.  On the second level, he told us to take a hidden door, and showed up on a sketched map where to find it.  From there we could go down into the pool room, and prepare, without being seen by the Cultists.  In the chamber room, all we had to do was destroy the phylactery and Shamour…Molostroi assured us that he would be guarding the phylactery, and escape.  He pointed out the passage we should use, a northern exit that would lead us to an exit near an old house that was mostly still intact, where we could hide.  Finally, he warned us that, should the dracolich approach, to run…that Pelendralaar was very powerful, and that we should not waste our lives needlessly by facing him.  I agreed with the "not wasting our lives" part, whole-heartedly.

Before we moved out, Molostroi offered to cast some protective spells on us, and several of the party members accepted.  I don't know what he cast, only that no one looked any different once the spells were done.  Then we left, to put the plan into action, for better of for worse.

Castle Cormanthor was a building of amazing beauty, still intact, even after whatever had happened in Myth Drannor to ravage the city.  Seven spiraled towers rose from the irregular structure.  The main building was three stories high, and the walls were very thick.  And all about the walls, and inside, dozens of Cultists moved around freely, intent on their tasks.  Sad, really, that such a pretty place was now a haven of evil and villainy.  Maybe, some day, some army for good would come through and clean out the city, and rebuild it…it was a nice thought that kept me occupied with imagining, even as we headed towards possible destruction.  Dressed in our stolen half-cloaks, with the hoods up, no one stopped our approach.  We were briefly halted at the gates and asked our business.  I replied, curtly, as though it were none of their business, but I was being obliging.

"Delivering magical items for Shamour."  The guards were satisfied and let us pass.  As we entered, I noticed that at least half of the Cultists within had manifested the reptilian changes…some boarding on outright disturbing.  We headed inside, to the main hall of the castle, where we were stopped again, and asked the same question.  We moved past, after giving the same answer.

            Inside, the hall bustled with activity.  There were a great deal of the "changed" ones, and another Cultist lead a group of skeletons across the room, and out another door.  All on the walls were intricate carvings, and tapestries with elves on them, mostly intact.  A staircase on the far end led up, and one led down.  We moved towards the appropriate staircase.  We made it down to the second level easily enough.  We came out into what was some sort of Cultist barracks.  The level itself looked as though it were made of some kind of natural stone, and the smooth floor was carved with images of animals, and plants.  The room was filled to capacity with Cult soldiers, and was magically lit by continual torches.  We moved towards the next set of stairs downward, when we were stopped by a growling voice from behind us.

"Where do you think you're going?!"  We turned to see another of the draconic looking people, only this one was even a bit more so than his fellows.  His features were elongated and the shape of his mouth distorted due to an unusual number of overly large, sharp teeth.  His skin was reddish in hue, and the hands that were crossed irritatedly across his chest bore wicked, long black nails.  He beckoned us over…other Cultists scurried to get out of our way as we complied.

"What?"  I asked, but he turned to address Guar, apparently, thinking that because Guar was the largest, he was also the leader.

"Where are you going?"  Guar, bless his hide, repeated my words.

"We're delivering magic items for Shamour."

"I don't think you are…I think you better get permission from Ellis before I let you go any further," the dragon thing sneered, and shoved Guar.  I could practically see Guar's temper fray, as he shoved the dragon man in return, and growled something unintelligible.  Realizing this could get bad quickly, I went to try to stop it, but I was surprised when the dragon guy backed off.  He seemed a bit intimidated by Guar, but quickly covered it up.

"Go see Ellis, NOW!!"  He roared, and pointed.  I gathered that the door he pointed to was Ellis's.  Quickly thinking up a plan, I tugged Guar away.  We went to see Ellis.  Knocking once on the door, which was slightly ajar, we were bid enter by a deep voice.  The interior of the room was lit by a continual flame, throwing lots of shadows about.  A middle aged man with white hair and a beard was working on some paper work at a desk.  Resting against the wall was a longsword, sheathed in flame, the point resting against the ground.  Using Guar as cover as we entered, I was able to slip away into the shadows with no one the wiser.  Ellis looked up as the others entered.

"Why are you bothering me?"

"We're supposed to be delivering some items down to the pool, but that …jerk out there told us he wouldn't let us until we spoke with you," Durand explained, even as I moved into position behind Ellis.

"Marjon?  I'll have to speak with him…I don't appreciate being interrupted."  Ellis rose, his motions stiff with annoyance.  Before he could take a step forward, I struck.  One arm slid around and I secured his forehead, while the other struck Ellis's deathblow, as I cut his throat open.  A fount of hot blood gushed over my hand, and I continued to restrain him, even as he whispered, with his last breath…

"…traitors…"  We wrestled him back to his desk.  Guar mopped up the worst of the blood, and we laid him face down, so it looked as though he was just napping.  I snatched up the fiery sword, and sheathed it.  We also found an odd mask in the drawer of the desk, and took that as well.  I felt a prick of conscience for killing the man in such cold blood, but I ruthlessly crushed it.  After all…he was obviously some sort of leader among the Cultists…and the Cultists had already proved themselves to be evil, and corrupt, and murders of the worst kind.

As we moved to leave, I patted the dead Ellis's check, and murmured softly, in the giant language, so the others would not understand, even if they overheard.

"No mercy for the wicked."  I looked up, and happened to glance at Kedra.  She grinned at me, and nodded her head in agreement…okay, so apparently one of the people I'm forced to travel with speaks giant…maybe I'll use Aquan next time.

We went back out, shutting the door firmly behind us.  Marjon was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed expectantly.

"Well?"

"Ellis said don't bother him with nonsense again, or you'll suffer the consequences."  I snapped.  Marjon didn't seem happy with the response, but did not try to hinder our departure.  We made our way down to the next level as quickly as possible.

The next floor was filled with the creatures that Molostroi had warned us were dragonkin, not just changed folk.  The cavern was dimly lit, and filled with piles of straw and dirt.  There were at least ten of the dragonkin that I could see, but I felt there were more hiding in the darkness beyond my vision.  Some sort of animal was impaled on a metal skewer, and was partially eaten.  We made our way over to where Molostroi had said the secret door would be.  There were a few human guards lounging on this level.  We approached them, and told them that we were their replacement shift, and that Ellis had told us to come down here.  They accepted the answer, readily enough, seeing as they all looked tired and bored.  Once they were gone, we sought out the entrance and entered the tunnel behind it.  Using a dagger and Guar's strength, we barred the secret entrance behind us, and down we went.  The tunnel terminated in a door, the hinges old and rusted from neglect.  I oiled the hinges, and the expected squeal was not nearly as loud as it might have been.  We peered into the large room beyond, scanning about.  There were a number of natural platforms rising above the floor, linked by wooden bridges.  A pool of clear water was below one of the platforms…a sense of evil and death and latent magic pervaded the room.  In the north part of the chamber, there was a tunnel shaped like a serpent's open mouth.  It was guarding by a rotting dragon…undead and shambling about.  The scales it had left were black, though, so I guessed it wasn't the dracolich.  Still, dead or not, it was the first dragon I'd ever seen, and the sight was a bit daunting.  The creature was huge, and I knew that I didn't want to face it down…and though it was stupid, no doubt due to its current, zombie-like status, I was still scared of just looking at it.  I shuddered to think how dangerous a true, thinking dragon would be. 
            In the distant corner of the room, I caught a glimpse of several figures.  One looked like another of those Cult wizards, all dressed in black, and such, while the other, taller and more impressive, had a purple drape over his robes.  Two of the dragonkin flanked them, acting as guards.  The two men were intent on their work on a metal cage before them.  That cage, I reasoned, was the phylactery.  Quickly we decided what to do.  I took the scepter with me, and volunteered to destroy the phylactery by sneaking behind the people.  The others were all left to distract the attentions of the two men and the two dragonkin.  They would approach, as though they belonged there, and once close enough they would attack.  We figured that one of those two men had to be Shamour, and by killing both, we would be assured of having gotten the job done.

So the plan went into action. I'd managed to sneak almost all of the way to my destination when the inevitable battle ensued.  A spell from Sinyalla put the wizard looking fellow to sleep, and Guar beheaded him.  Durand began to chop away at the dragonkin, who were reciprocating, furiously.  I ignored the battle, and the sounds of what was happening as I concentrated on the task at hand.  I quietly said the word to activate the scepter and hit it against the phylactery.  The cage, and the crystal within did not break, but the crystal cracked.  I drew back, and attacked again.  This time, the scepter…which felt wholly evil and draining in my hands, succeeded.  The crystal shattered, as did the cage.  As the whole phylactery crumbled, a resounding, angry roar filled the chamber.  It was so deafening that I could feel the very ground beneath my feet quake for a moment.  I guess that the dracolich was not a "happy fairy" dragon anymore…  Shamour, at least the one I figured was Shamour, spun on me, his eyes wide with shock and rage.  He attacked me with a mace, which slammed painfully into my shoulder.  But Shamour didn't have a chance.  As the last of the two dragonkin were dropped, Durand ran up, sword readied to assist.  The others were busy fighting off the undead dragon…I was glad it was them and not me.  Durand and I flanked Shamour…he had no escape.  It only took a few attacks on our part to drop him, seeing as he could only defend against one of us.  I waited for something to happen when we killed him…something cataclysmic…something dramatic…at the very least something painful…but nothing happened.  The re was another roar from somewhere further in the caves…the sounds of battle…I guess the other adventurers that Molostroi had spoken of were attempting to accomplish their side of the bargain.  I wondered if we would ever find out who they were… 

As I ran towards the others, I looked up.  From the mouth of the serpent cave, came a head…a huge, red head.  At first, I feared it was the dracolich, that we were doomed…but I quickly realized that the dragon I was looking at was most certainly alive…I don't know which prospect scared me more.  All I knew at that moment, was that running seemed like a capital idea.  I quickly expressed the idea to the rest of the party, and they just as quickly concurred.  Guar stopped to scoop up Shamour's body as we ran…just in case.  Following Molostroi's directions, we bolted from the pool room, without looking back.  As we were a short way into the tunnel, there was another howl…a death howl, and a thud from behind that caused the ground to shake again.  The sound of Cultists soldiers filled the room we'd just left…we ran faster. 

We made it to the abandoned house that Molostroi had told us of, and secreted ourselves inside.  The sounds of what was going on outside were faint, but still there.  A short time later, Molostroi appeared.

"Well done!"  he congratulated us.

"You've destroyed the phylactery, and the others finished off Pelendralaar.  Now, the mythal will return to what it was, and the pool of radiance will fade away."

"That's all good, but how do we get back to Ashabenford, from here?" I asked.

"Ashabenford?  Hmm…I know of a gate; but it is not safe now.  You should rest here, and when the way to that place clears, I shall guide you there.  Now, though, I wish to reward you for your assistance.  Up those stairs, " he pointed to a set of marble steps that were in surprisingly good condition considering how run down the rest of the house looked.

"Up there, you will find a chest…it is safe to open.  Within you will find a reward.  It, and my thanks, are all that I can offer you."  He inclined his head, and vanished. 

Wondering, I looked down at my arm.  Success!!  The tattoo representing the Cult of the Dragon was gone!  I was quick to share the information with the others, who were equally as happy.  Apparently, then, killing the one who'd helped put the tattoos there was the way to remove the unholy symbols.  Only four more to go, I thought.  The treasure proved to be a great deal of metal…mithral and something Kedra called "dark steel," a rather nice looking harp, which I confiscated, two masks, a dagger, a black staff, a crystal staff, and two beautiful star sapphires. 

We spent one more night in the city of Myth Drannor, and come morning, Molostroi led us up the top of a tower in the city, and bade us jump off the side.  Kedra followed the instructions first, and jumped…only to vanished halfway down.  I gather the gate was one of those mid-air things.  I bid Molostroi farewell, and followed Kedra.  A breathless moment later, I landed on my ass in the middle of a tilled field, not more than a few miles out of Ashabenford.  There were several farmers who'd been working, and were now staring at us as though we were demons come from the abyss to steal away their mortal souls.  A few gold pieces alleviated most of their concern, I quickly discovered.

The next few hours we spent dividing up the loot and selling it off.  Some of it we decided to take to other places, like the dwarven town, to get a better price.  I took everything magical, intending to have Dazelin check it out for us.  I figured that we could pay him by way of the many spellbooks we'd recovered.  Kedra, for some reason, begged for most of the dark steel…I took two pounds of it, and one of the mithral, and, unbeknownst to the others, the two star sapphires, and a few other things as well.  I had an idea I wanted to put to Dazelin, and the items I took would help.  It took about two days before I'd finished running around, getting rid of the normal "stuff" before I had time to go see Daz.  We made affair sum of money by selling things, a fair portion of which I passed out to people who needed it.  I was glad to see, however, that there weren't a whole lot of starving poor in Ashabenford.  And I'm fairly confident that now, there are none…