5. How many roads?
Eltheria stood by the camp fire, looking into the flames. She wasn't sure how she felt: merely hours before, she had seen Siobhan die avenging her father and brothers, and Joman fall to their enemies. She had never seen comrades meet death before, and had been deeply shocked by the experience. Even worse was the bubbling of emotions that she had carefully hidden: seeing Ganth with his arm almost severed, so close to death, she had felt an emptiness, a looming despondency at the thought of his passing that she didn't know how to deal with.
She sighed a heavy, heartfelt sigh. She was a high-born, an elf of stature in Felwithe, a cleric of Tunare; Ganth was not only a dwarf, but a rogue. He was low-born and proud of it, rough, dirty, untrustworthy. funny, handsome. no. Even if she wanted to think that way of him, she was sure he would laugh in her face. He needed a real woman, a fighter, a proud, strong, bearded dwarven woman. Eltheria looked longingly at the two stone mounds at the edge of the camp for a moment - the final resting places of their loyal friends - then shook her goblet clean, the last drops of wine causing the fire to fizzle brightly, and turned back to the others.
The group were eating in silence. Rendil, Gueri's huband, had brought sweet meats, fresh fish and delicacies from the distant city of Erudin, and they were enjoying a tasty meal cooked by the ever-hungry Ganth. The orc camp had held some interesting loot, too, and the team were divvying up the spoils, discussing what they had found. A few feet away, Rendil stood talking quietly with Gueri. He was taller than his wife, but seemed smaller in stature next to the cleric's athletic form. She in turn seemed weaker despite her muscle, the magician's robes somehow containing a slight body with immense power.
"I tell you that inky was here for a reason, my love," Rendil said.
"I agree," Gueri replied. "He was up to something. Those orcs were far too strong and well-equipped to be just a normal encampment."
"Aye," replied the high elf. He looked out into the forest. "I wonder what he was doing, using these orcs. It's rare for a necromancer to deal directly with such lowly beasts, and it worries me. I shall return to Felwithe and seek counsel with the guild. Guildsman Eziek should be passing in a few days with news from Nektulos Forest that should shed a little light on matters."
Ganth broke into their conversation: "It's simple. They been using these orcs aginst the elves for some time. They must be plannin' a bigger attack, and we foiled it for 'em. Nuthin' bigger than that."
Rendil turned to the young rogue, considering his words. The high elf opened his mouth to speak, but Gueri placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head. The couple returned to the campfire.
The party had spent the night safely by the orc fires. With Jabober, Rendil's elemental companion, on guard, they had not been threatened. The only time there was a disturbance, Rendil had risen and scared away whatever had approached the camp. A day had passed since their battle with the orcs, yet the group of friends were still sorting through the rubbish at the camp, continually turning up new, but often worthless prizes.
"Hey!" shouted Ganth. He had been looking through the dark elf necromancer's tent, and now came out, carrying a small wooden box, covered with a layer of dirt from having been buried. He placed it on the ground next to his friends and pulled his knife from his belt. Jamming the blade under the lock, he heaved against the metal and eventually it gave way with a snap. The box flew open, revealing a small bag and some papers.
Emptying the bag, Ganth was pleased to find several gems of worth, and shared them out equally amongst the group. He then turned his attention to the papers, but was unable to read them. Rendil stepped forward and held out his hand.
"Milord Vaeksil," he read. "We charge you with this duty and trust in your success. You are aware of the price of failure: our Lord Innoruuk will deal with you personally should this mission not be, erm., accomplished successfully before the alignment." Rendil chuckled and looked at the group. "They love to put the fear of Inno into their underlings." He returned to the document. "You will go to the Lesser Faydark, on the borders of our enemy's lands. There, you will seek out the local orc Chief and you will employ him and his warriors. We will provide you with gifts for the mindless beasts that will convince them to join us. Once you have them under your power, your mission is twofold." Rendil turned the page. "Firstly, you will ensure that the. hmmm. What's that word? Ah yes... that the barbarian woman comes no further towards Neriak. It is imperative that she learn that the orcs were responsible for her family's death. Secondly, you will ensure the death of the erudite cleric. With her removed, we may move against her handfasted one with greater surety, and destroy him before he is able to complete his mission for the high elven scum in Felwithe. Go now, and perform these deeds. Do not return unless the two are dead."
"Looks like someone's not going home," chuckled Ganth. Rendil nodded thoughtfully.
"Aye, that it does. It also means he won't give up, and that you, my friends, are in great danger. And thirdly, it means I must away and complete my mission for the Council before those in Neriak can stop me."
The friends looked at each other, worried.
"We need to move against that dark elf, before he returns with more forces," said Eltheria. "You know what they're like. They don't give up once they start, and they're worse when they've had their face slapped by defeat."
Rendil breathed in, deeply. "I think you may be right, young cleric. We need to get you lot packed up and on the trail of that inky before he can make his way back to Neriak."
***
A few days had passed. The friends had regained their strength after the battle with the orcs, and had made a short stop in the high elven city of Felwithe to buy provisions, visit the various guilds and the bank, and, in Ganth's case, get very, very drunk. They had headed west afterwards, towards the Butcherblock Mountains.
Coming through the pass into the dwarven homelands, they were pleased to see clear weather and the sun shining brightly. After the Faydark, it made a huge difference to their spirits, and they sang as they walked. Ganth hailed the various vendors and guards as he passed, sharing rumours and starting a few of his own about his prowess in combat against the orcs.
They soon arrived at the Butcherblock Port. Waving to the guards as they marched through, the friends walked the length of the dock, and waited for the boat, munching on some salted meat left over from the treats Rendil had brought with him. Despite her husband's parting, Gueri seemed happy. The two had been married for some time now, but had taken a vow, as part of their oaths, to not hold the other back in life. They were both free spirits, and loved travelling together, but the high elf understood his wife's need to be with people of her own circle, and she understood his duties to the Guild and the Felwithe Council.
The boat drifted silently into view. As it docked, several individuals disembarked, stretching their limbs and regaining their land-legs. The friends spent a few moments exchanging news with the arrivals, catching up on goings-on and asking if anyone had seen the dark elf.
"IsawVaeksiljusttheotherdayinFreeport," said a little gnome, burbling the words out as if he only had seconds to spare. Ganth huffed, but Eltheria stepped forward.
"Mightyou tellus when yousaw himinthe city?" she asked, scurrying the words out almost as fast as the gnome.
"Aye! Hewasn'tinthecity. Isawhimgoaroundthewalltowardsthecommonlands justasIwascomingintothecityfortheboat."
Eltheria thanked the little man, and relayed the information to the group.
"Ach, he's goin' around the city," reflected Ganth. "We'll have trouble catchin' up with him now, at least afore Nektulos." The others agreed. Thankfully, with the light races governing the area around Freeport, the dark elf's progress would be slow. There was still hope they would catch him.
The friends stepped on board the boat and settled down for the long journey.
***
Swearing and cursing, Vaeksil walked close to the walls of the human city of Freeport. He still could not believe the high elf had appeared just as he could taste victory - how could the magician have known? This was a secret mission, straight from the highest levels of Neriak's political structures. Someone must have talked.
Rounding a corner, Vaeksil stopped sharply. In his distracted anger, he had almost walked straight into two guards coming the other way. For a moment, the dark elf's heart leapt, then he smiled. The guards didn't stop, but walked right past the invisible necromancer.
"Stupid humans," he muttered, walking quietly away.
Before him stretched the hot sand of the Ro desert. Freeport was oddly placed in a sandy spot between two greener areas - a patch towards the desert itself and the longer, lush commonlands. Vaeksil often wondered why the humans had built their city on sand instead of grasslands, but had long since learnt that there was no accounting for the stupidity of these creatures. Glancing quickly around the corner of the city wall, he headed out into the despised sunlight, making for the shade of nearby trees.
He covered ground slowly. The light races, of which he considered the humans the least illuminated, controlled this area with an iron fist. Despite his abilities to remain invisible and, if pushed, to distract an enemy for long enough to escape, Vaeksil travelled very carefully. The Freeport guards were renowned for their sudden and furious attacks, and their rigidity in defining who was an enemy or a friend. They were hard to please, and their Sergeant, Slate, wielded a mean blade.
The commonlands were busy this time of year. Adventurers from all over Norrath came to this place to hawk their wares, to gawp at the accumulated treasures from the five continents and, since the reopening of the Nexus, the moon. The dark elf loved walking into the tunnel that led to the desert, and seeing dozens upon dozens of people: a wild array of colourful armour, of scents and perfumes, of flashing blades and jewellery. He could sit for hours just watching the world go by - almost literally - as the adventurers came together, found old friends and traded their goods and skills or worked their crafts. Even now, he saw tiny figures moving around the entrance, there in the distance, and caught the babbling of voices on the wind.
Today was not a day to dally. He turned reluctantly away from the tunnel and headed across the grass towards the small pass into Nektulos. The dark elf had not moved quickly enough since leaving the Lesser Faydark, and he feared his enemies would be following.
Eltheria stood by the camp fire, looking into the flames. She wasn't sure how she felt: merely hours before, she had seen Siobhan die avenging her father and brothers, and Joman fall to their enemies. She had never seen comrades meet death before, and had been deeply shocked by the experience. Even worse was the bubbling of emotions that she had carefully hidden: seeing Ganth with his arm almost severed, so close to death, she had felt an emptiness, a looming despondency at the thought of his passing that she didn't know how to deal with.
She sighed a heavy, heartfelt sigh. She was a high-born, an elf of stature in Felwithe, a cleric of Tunare; Ganth was not only a dwarf, but a rogue. He was low-born and proud of it, rough, dirty, untrustworthy. funny, handsome. no. Even if she wanted to think that way of him, she was sure he would laugh in her face. He needed a real woman, a fighter, a proud, strong, bearded dwarven woman. Eltheria looked longingly at the two stone mounds at the edge of the camp for a moment - the final resting places of their loyal friends - then shook her goblet clean, the last drops of wine causing the fire to fizzle brightly, and turned back to the others.
The group were eating in silence. Rendil, Gueri's huband, had brought sweet meats, fresh fish and delicacies from the distant city of Erudin, and they were enjoying a tasty meal cooked by the ever-hungry Ganth. The orc camp had held some interesting loot, too, and the team were divvying up the spoils, discussing what they had found. A few feet away, Rendil stood talking quietly with Gueri. He was taller than his wife, but seemed smaller in stature next to the cleric's athletic form. She in turn seemed weaker despite her muscle, the magician's robes somehow containing a slight body with immense power.
"I tell you that inky was here for a reason, my love," Rendil said.
"I agree," Gueri replied. "He was up to something. Those orcs were far too strong and well-equipped to be just a normal encampment."
"Aye," replied the high elf. He looked out into the forest. "I wonder what he was doing, using these orcs. It's rare for a necromancer to deal directly with such lowly beasts, and it worries me. I shall return to Felwithe and seek counsel with the guild. Guildsman Eziek should be passing in a few days with news from Nektulos Forest that should shed a little light on matters."
Ganth broke into their conversation: "It's simple. They been using these orcs aginst the elves for some time. They must be plannin' a bigger attack, and we foiled it for 'em. Nuthin' bigger than that."
Rendil turned to the young rogue, considering his words. The high elf opened his mouth to speak, but Gueri placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head. The couple returned to the campfire.
The party had spent the night safely by the orc fires. With Jabober, Rendil's elemental companion, on guard, they had not been threatened. The only time there was a disturbance, Rendil had risen and scared away whatever had approached the camp. A day had passed since their battle with the orcs, yet the group of friends were still sorting through the rubbish at the camp, continually turning up new, but often worthless prizes.
"Hey!" shouted Ganth. He had been looking through the dark elf necromancer's tent, and now came out, carrying a small wooden box, covered with a layer of dirt from having been buried. He placed it on the ground next to his friends and pulled his knife from his belt. Jamming the blade under the lock, he heaved against the metal and eventually it gave way with a snap. The box flew open, revealing a small bag and some papers.
Emptying the bag, Ganth was pleased to find several gems of worth, and shared them out equally amongst the group. He then turned his attention to the papers, but was unable to read them. Rendil stepped forward and held out his hand.
"Milord Vaeksil," he read. "We charge you with this duty and trust in your success. You are aware of the price of failure: our Lord Innoruuk will deal with you personally should this mission not be, erm., accomplished successfully before the alignment." Rendil chuckled and looked at the group. "They love to put the fear of Inno into their underlings." He returned to the document. "You will go to the Lesser Faydark, on the borders of our enemy's lands. There, you will seek out the local orc Chief and you will employ him and his warriors. We will provide you with gifts for the mindless beasts that will convince them to join us. Once you have them under your power, your mission is twofold." Rendil turned the page. "Firstly, you will ensure that the. hmmm. What's that word? Ah yes... that the barbarian woman comes no further towards Neriak. It is imperative that she learn that the orcs were responsible for her family's death. Secondly, you will ensure the death of the erudite cleric. With her removed, we may move against her handfasted one with greater surety, and destroy him before he is able to complete his mission for the high elven scum in Felwithe. Go now, and perform these deeds. Do not return unless the two are dead."
"Looks like someone's not going home," chuckled Ganth. Rendil nodded thoughtfully.
"Aye, that it does. It also means he won't give up, and that you, my friends, are in great danger. And thirdly, it means I must away and complete my mission for the Council before those in Neriak can stop me."
The friends looked at each other, worried.
"We need to move against that dark elf, before he returns with more forces," said Eltheria. "You know what they're like. They don't give up once they start, and they're worse when they've had their face slapped by defeat."
Rendil breathed in, deeply. "I think you may be right, young cleric. We need to get you lot packed up and on the trail of that inky before he can make his way back to Neriak."
***
A few days had passed. The friends had regained their strength after the battle with the orcs, and had made a short stop in the high elven city of Felwithe to buy provisions, visit the various guilds and the bank, and, in Ganth's case, get very, very drunk. They had headed west afterwards, towards the Butcherblock Mountains.
Coming through the pass into the dwarven homelands, they were pleased to see clear weather and the sun shining brightly. After the Faydark, it made a huge difference to their spirits, and they sang as they walked. Ganth hailed the various vendors and guards as he passed, sharing rumours and starting a few of his own about his prowess in combat against the orcs.
They soon arrived at the Butcherblock Port. Waving to the guards as they marched through, the friends walked the length of the dock, and waited for the boat, munching on some salted meat left over from the treats Rendil had brought with him. Despite her husband's parting, Gueri seemed happy. The two had been married for some time now, but had taken a vow, as part of their oaths, to not hold the other back in life. They were both free spirits, and loved travelling together, but the high elf understood his wife's need to be with people of her own circle, and she understood his duties to the Guild and the Felwithe Council.
The boat drifted silently into view. As it docked, several individuals disembarked, stretching their limbs and regaining their land-legs. The friends spent a few moments exchanging news with the arrivals, catching up on goings-on and asking if anyone had seen the dark elf.
"IsawVaeksiljusttheotherdayinFreeport," said a little gnome, burbling the words out as if he only had seconds to spare. Ganth huffed, but Eltheria stepped forward.
"Mightyou tellus when yousaw himinthe city?" she asked, scurrying the words out almost as fast as the gnome.
"Aye! Hewasn'tinthecity. Isawhimgoaroundthewalltowardsthecommonlands justasIwascomingintothecityfortheboat."
Eltheria thanked the little man, and relayed the information to the group.
"Ach, he's goin' around the city," reflected Ganth. "We'll have trouble catchin' up with him now, at least afore Nektulos." The others agreed. Thankfully, with the light races governing the area around Freeport, the dark elf's progress would be slow. There was still hope they would catch him.
The friends stepped on board the boat and settled down for the long journey.
***
Swearing and cursing, Vaeksil walked close to the walls of the human city of Freeport. He still could not believe the high elf had appeared just as he could taste victory - how could the magician have known? This was a secret mission, straight from the highest levels of Neriak's political structures. Someone must have talked.
Rounding a corner, Vaeksil stopped sharply. In his distracted anger, he had almost walked straight into two guards coming the other way. For a moment, the dark elf's heart leapt, then he smiled. The guards didn't stop, but walked right past the invisible necromancer.
"Stupid humans," he muttered, walking quietly away.
Before him stretched the hot sand of the Ro desert. Freeport was oddly placed in a sandy spot between two greener areas - a patch towards the desert itself and the longer, lush commonlands. Vaeksil often wondered why the humans had built their city on sand instead of grasslands, but had long since learnt that there was no accounting for the stupidity of these creatures. Glancing quickly around the corner of the city wall, he headed out into the despised sunlight, making for the shade of nearby trees.
He covered ground slowly. The light races, of which he considered the humans the least illuminated, controlled this area with an iron fist. Despite his abilities to remain invisible and, if pushed, to distract an enemy for long enough to escape, Vaeksil travelled very carefully. The Freeport guards were renowned for their sudden and furious attacks, and their rigidity in defining who was an enemy or a friend. They were hard to please, and their Sergeant, Slate, wielded a mean blade.
The commonlands were busy this time of year. Adventurers from all over Norrath came to this place to hawk their wares, to gawp at the accumulated treasures from the five continents and, since the reopening of the Nexus, the moon. The dark elf loved walking into the tunnel that led to the desert, and seeing dozens upon dozens of people: a wild array of colourful armour, of scents and perfumes, of flashing blades and jewellery. He could sit for hours just watching the world go by - almost literally - as the adventurers came together, found old friends and traded their goods and skills or worked their crafts. Even now, he saw tiny figures moving around the entrance, there in the distance, and caught the babbling of voices on the wind.
Today was not a day to dally. He turned reluctantly away from the tunnel and headed across the grass towards the small pass into Nektulos. The dark elf had not moved quickly enough since leaving the Lesser Faydark, and he feared his enemies would be following.