Chapter 5 – The Gates of Dire Maul
One by one the adventurers rose from their rooms, gathered their gear, and met downstairs in the common room. The innkeeper had cleaned up the mess from the party and laid out some bread, fruit and cheeses for them. A few of them ate while the others tried to shake off the cobwebs from the night before. Loderr was already on his third mug of ale.
"Nothin' takes the edge off the next morn' like a bit o' the hair o' the dog that bit ye!" The Dwarf proclaimed as he downed the last of his ale and ordered another.
It wasn't long before Kryme's absence was noted. "Hey, has anyone seen Kryme this morning?" Rosefire asked.
"Aye." Loderr mumbled from behind his mug. "You can be forgettin' about that one. He lit out at dawn."
"Lit out?" Shiner asked, "What do you mean, lit out?"
"He took off. Turned tail and ran, like the dog that he is. Not an ounce of honor in that worthless hide o' his. He went on 'bout suicide missions and lost souls. To Hell with him I say. We're better off without him."
"I don't know about that." Shiner sighed. "This might not be the easiest quest we've ever done. But without a priest it's damn near impossible. I suppose we do have three paladins… that might be enough."
"What about Gabby?" Jaye asked. "We could send word for her."
"No," Ulfgar answered. "Gabby was with me in the Eastern Plaguelands. She was fightin' the Undead Scourge. It'd take her days, maybe weeks, just to get the message and meet us here."
"We can't wait that long." Rosefire groaned. "What the Hell are we going to do now? Damn, Kryme!"
A Night Elf sitting at a table on the other side of the inn rose from his seat and approached the party. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing your predicament. I'm curious, are you the adventurers who Scholar Runethorn has enlisted to help her."
"Who would be askin'?" Loderr shot the Elf a suspicious glance.
"I'm sorry. My name is Selth, and I am a priest. I journeyed here from Darnassus to meet with Scholar Runethorn and she informed me that she had found a group of adventurers who agreed to recover the stolen artifacts for her. You fit the description of the group she mentioned - minus your priest, of course. It would seem that I might be of some service to you?"
"If yer offerin' to go with us to Dire Maul, then we're acceptin'!" Loderr exclaimed.
"Not so fast." Shiner interrupted. "This seems a little odd. We just happen to lose our priest, and you just happen to be sitting here in the inn when we need a new one? Excuse me for not being a little suspicious about this coincidence."
"It is completely your decision, and I can respect that." Selth replied. "If you have no need for me I will be on my way back to Darnassus. Good day and safe travels to you all. May Elune Bless you."
"Now hold on a second." Rogar got up and stopped Selth. "I'm sure we can look past the unusual circumstances surrounding our meeting." He shot Shiner a concerned look. "After all, you guys know what happens when you rely on me to do the healing. Maybe Rose and Ulfgar want that responsibility, but personally, I vote for the Elf here."
"Your confidence in me is very reassuring." Selth shot the paladin a sarcastic glance.
"I think Rogar's got a point, Shiner." Rosefire looked at the Gnome. "Things can get pretty rough in Dire Maul. I know I'd feel a lot better with a priest watching our backs."
"Alright, alright already." Shiner mumbled under her breath. "I guess we don't really have much of a choice at this point. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful for your offer, Selth. You understand?"
"Indeed. I'm only glad that I was here for you. The Scholar's quest is a most important one, and it would be my honor to assist you in undertaking this task."
The adventurers paid the innkeeper for their breakfast and made their way to the docks to catch the ferry that would take them from Feathermoon Stronghold to the main shore of Feralas. The Elves had built the stronghold on a small island not far off the coast. On a clear day you could almost see the mainland on the horizon. It wasn't so far as to be an inconvenience, but it was far enough to offer an added bit of protection from the wilds of the forest.
Feralas itself was a harsh place. It was a mountainous region with deep lush forests; a stark contrast to the barren wastes of the plains of Desolace to the north and the desert canyons, known as Thousand Needles, to the south. The Elves once called this forest their home, but that was many generations in the past. Now the Elven cities lie in ruins, overrun by the beasts and the forest. A bloodthirsty tribe of Ogres, known as the Gordok, had taken up residence in the crumbling buildings of the forgotten Elf city. Scholars and historians knew the city by the name Lien's father used, Eldre'Thalas. But adventurers had grown to call it Dire Maul, the name given to it by its present inhabitants.
The threat of the Ogres hadn't done much to keep the treasure seekers away from the ruins. Quite the opposite, it seemed to draw more and more adventurers to the site. Archeologists often took excursions into the ruins in hopes of recovering some of the lost lore and artifacts of the once great Elven city. Others only went in search of gold and gems. Either way, few ever lived to tell the stories of what they found inside, and those who did would rarely speak of it. An evil much worse than the Ogres now lived there, haunting the ruins.
The group made their way across a rickety rope bridge spanning a deep gorge. The path got narrower as they climbed higher into the mountains. The slope dropped dangerously off the sides of the trail, threatening to send anyone who strayed from the path into the depths of the forest below. The adventurers walked single file, taking their time and watching their step. Finally the path widened again, and they could see their destination ahead. Small broken obelisks littered the side of the trail, once used as markings to guide travelers to the Elven city. Fallen columns and shattered walls greeted them as they made their way toward what was once the main gate of the city.
"I sense we are not alone." Sildor whispered, kneeling down to inspect the ground. The hunter gently ran his fingers over the earth and cocked an ear to the wind. Sildor's pet, a magnificent white Frostsaber from the mountains of Winterspring, drew closer to him instinctively guarding his master. "Ogres have patrolled this path recently. We should be wary."
"Ok, you heard him." Shiner drew her blades from her side. "Let's get ready for a fight folks. This is where the fun starts."
"There! Up ahead." Jaye was the first to see them. Two Ogres lumbered back and forth across the road leading into the main entrance of the city.
Shiner took quick note of them. One was two-headed, meaning he was probably a spell caster. It took two heads, which meant two brains, for an ogre to have enough intelligence to actually cast a spell. The other Ogre had only one head, meaning he was probably a warrior. Ogres weren't much for learning the fighting styles of rogues or hunters. They used their brute strength and massive size to their advantage. Now and then you might encounter an Ogre who had learned the shamanistic ways of the lesser races, and who could cast healing spells and curses. But for the most part, a fight with an Ogre rarely had a true winner. Even if you managed to kill one, you were probably going to be worse for the wear.
"Jaye I want you and Ulfgar to charge the warrior on the right. Selth, you back them up and keep them healed. I'll stealth my way behind him and try to catch him off guard. Rose, you and Rogar take the two-headed one on the left. Use your prayers to keep him stunned. Don't let him get his spells off. The rest of you, hang back and do your thing from behind. Any questions?"
The party nodded. The plan was simple and they were well aware of their part in a battle. Shiner disappeared into the shadows of the forest, and slowly crept behind the warrior undetected. As soon as she was in place, Jaye drew his sword. "Ok fellas, let's do this!" Jaye charged at the warrior.
Shiner's plan was well conceived, and the party took the Ogres completely by surprise. The paladins kept the mage stunned, and the flurry of their attacks disrupted all attempts by the Ogre to cast a spell. Jaye and Ulfgar shielded themselves from the massive blows of the warrior's mace, and took stabs at him in between his attacks. Selth chanted small prayers of healing to keep Jaye and Ulfgar standing.
Too short to reach the Ogre's back, Shiner concentrated on slicing the tendons in the Ogre's legs, rendering him unable to flee from the fight and weakening his stance. The hunters sent their pets into the fray, and the bear and the frostsaber let loose on the Ogres in a fury of claws and teeth. Lien and Shauna stood back and fired magical blasts of fire and ice. Despite the enormous size and strength of the Ogres, they were terribly outnumbered and fell quickly to the deadly attack.
"Nice work, everyone!" Shiner praised as she wiped the blood from her daggers. "If we keep fighting like that we might be back to Feathermoon by nightfall!"
"Aye, and more ALE!" shouted Loderr, happily.
"I wouldn't count on it." Lien replied. "Those were just a couple sentries. Their numbers increase as we get further into the city."
"Somehow I knew it wasn't going to be that easy." Jaye said, cleaning his weapons off as well. The party searched the Ogres for anything of value and moved on into the main entrance of the city.
* * * * *
Buckalter closed his spell book and slipped it back into his pack. He rose to his feet and called for his minion to follow. The voidwalker quickly followed behind his master. The two of them made their way across the small town of Astranaar to the inn. Buckalter stood in the doorway for a long moment and surveyed the common room. He could sense his brother had been here. He approached the innkeeper.
"Have you seen a paladin traveling through here recently? He may have been accompanied by a number of people. Possibly a Dwarven hunter with a bear, or a female gnome with big, green ponytails?"
"No I'm sorry, I've not seen anyone that matches that description, sir." The innkeeper answered. "I've seen many paladins come through here. But none with any companions, and definitely none matching the description of the Dwarf and the Gnome. Truth be told, I've only been the innkeeper here a short while. The Horde overran the town, and I just took over for the previous owner. Very tragic really."
The innkeeper went on about the gruesome death of the townsfolk and the rebuilding after the Horde attacks, but Buckalter had already stopped listening. He was searching the inn for any sign of the paladin.
"You know, you might check in Auberdine or Darnassus. If they came through here after the Horde attack they probably would have moved on to one of those places." the innkeeper suggested.
Buckalter paid enough attention to the innkeeper's ramblings to pick up this last bit of advice. The innkeeper was right, those would be the next most logical places to look. He made his way to the hippogryph master and got a ride to Darkshore. When he landed in Auberdine, he made his way from the landing platform into the inn. As he was talking to the innkeeper about who had been through town recently, a robed man approached him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"You're looking for Rogar and the other Strike Fighters, eh?"
"Yes. I am. And I'm guessing you would know where I can find them?"
"I know where they were when I left them. I'm more curious though why it is you want to find them, and how much it is worth to you."
"Indeed." Buckalter reached out his hand as if to greet the robed man, but instead a ray of green energy arched from his fingertips into the man's chest. The robed man shook violently, and as Buckalter raised his arm the man lifted from the ground. His face drew gaunt and pale. Buckalter seemed to be getting stronger as he sucked the life from this man and absorbed it into his own body. "Now it would seem I have something that you want. Shall we make a trade?"
The robed man, now very near death, used the last of his strength to nod in agreement. Buckalter closed his fist and the energy stopped, dropping the man to floor of the inn. The man whispered a small prayer under his breath and some of his life began to pour back into his body. "I'll tell you what you want to know." He groaned.
"Where is the paladin? And who does he travel with?"
"They were in Feathermoon Stronghold just this morning. There were nine of them, not counting me. Rogar, Shiner, Rosefire, Shauna, Jaye." The man rose to his feet as the strength returned to his body. "Plus Ulfgar, Loderr and Sildor. They had another mage with them too. Some woman named Lien, I think. They were supposed to head to Dire Maul, but without me to heal them I doubt they went. They probably left to find a new healer."
A small grin spread across Buckalter's face at this news. Was it possible? Had his stupid brother really fallen in with the Mage? What luck! He would get his revenge, and recover the Libram all in one trip. This was extremely fortunate. Buckalter turned to go back to the hippogryph master and catch a ride to Feathermoon.
"Hey," the robed man called out from behind him, "you forgot something."
Buckalter turned to see what the man could possibly want from him, and suddenly felt a shock course through his body. The priest hit Buckalter with a blast of holy energy. Stunned for just a moment, Buckalter winced and chanted the words to his own spell. His voidwalker had already run across the inn to attack the priest and defend his master. A ball of shadow, swirling black, green and purple, shot from Buckalter's hands toward the priest. The priest recoiled from the hit and then felt a wave of pure panic wash over him. Uncontrollably, he ran from the inn in fear, with the voidwalker following behind, hitting him. Buckalter created two more balls of shadow and shot those at the priest as well. When the fear faded the priest tried in vein to recite the words to a healing prayer, but the voidwalker continued to beat upon him, interrupting his prayer. Buckalter walked into the street where the priest was standing and shot another arc of energy from his fingertips. It struck the priest in the chest and he slumped to the ground dead. Buckalter opened his hand, and sitting in his palm was a small purple shard.
"I'll be keeping this." Buckalter said as he slipped the shard into the folds of his robe. He turned and walked back to the hippogryph master and flew out of Auberdine for Feathermoon. As he flew away, the innkeeper looked at one of the patrons standing next to his counter. "Warlocks." He spat. "I'm always glad to see them leave."