Chapter Three - Part 4 - The Ruins of Dal Nystiere

As they approached the ruins of Dal Nystiere, the ancient, crumbling road passed by an old circle of standing stones. Webs clung to the branches of the nearby trees and a ramshackle covered wagon was parked on the trail near the standing stones.

While they walked, XIII said to Lirael, "I couldn't help but notice a strange discomfort you seemed to have amongst the elves, Lirael."

"Yes, well...I'd rather not talk about it now...later perhaps," Lirael answered him mysteriously. Just then Lirael abruptly halted and stopped the others from walking. "Wait!" He said in a hushed voice, "Look there."

He pointed up in one of the trees ahead where a few gigantic, hairy arachnid legs were visable. XIII immediately tensed up and gave a vicious hiss in the creature's direction. He clearly had a distaste for spiders.

"We can sneak up on it," Lirael said.

Rayne pointed out the wagon and decided he would go and check that out while they ambushed the Tree Spider. Upon looking inside he saw three sleeping Goblin Toadies. So he hastily pulled a torch from his bag and lit it before tossing it inside. The old, decrepit wagon almost immediately was immersed in flames, which woke the Goblin Toadies. But it was too late for them; they squealed in agony as they roasted to death.

XIII passionately summoned up the Flames of Phlegothos, engulfing the spider in Hellish fire. The spider fell from the tree, madly screeching and writhing in pain. Blisters and sores formed on its body, its hair completely singed off. Blood and puss oozed from its burns as it staggered to get up onto its gangly legs.  

Lirael gawked at the critical assault, "...You really hate spiders."

But before XIII had time to respond, Lirael ran forward, thrusting psionic energy into the mental pathways of a second spider that had begun to crawl its way down a tree not far from where they were. 

Rayne rushed away from the burning wagon and rammed himself into the smoldering arachnid with thunderous force, squashing it properly to death.

The other spider, perhaps out of revenge, leaped then from its tree at Lirael, biting him with its sharp pincers before it leaped back again out of harms way. XIII summoned yet another fiery attack, shooting a line of flame straight at the beast, causing it to also squeal in pain.

Lirael, unaffected by the safe distance that the spider took, forced his psychic assault on the spider, slamming it backwards onto its back. It writhed pitifully as it struggled to regain its bearings and stand. But Rayne ran up and yet again, slammed a finishing blow on the spider, giving off a horrible squishing, yet at the same time crunching, sound that marked the spider's unquestionable death.

XIII shivered disgustedly. He glanced at Lirael, not forgetting the conversation the spiders had so conveniently interrupted. He wondered what it was about the elves that made Lirael feel so uncomfortable.

"Let's get on with this then," Lirael said as he began walking towards the standing stones off to the side of the ruins. The others followed him to the pedestal in the center of the ring of stones, which seemed doubtful it how old and dusty it was.

But Rayne pulled out the vial of dragon's blood and opened it, giving it a curious sniff before he dripped some of the liquid onto the stone. Almost instantaneously as soon as the blood hit the stone, ancient Elven runes began to glow quite brightly on the stones surrounding them. 

Confidently, Rayne called out, "Dal Nystiere!" And the forest disappeared in a flash of blue light. The three found themselves standing upon a glowing magic circle inscribed on the floor of what appeared to be a wizard's laboratory or workshop. There were several large tables and desks littered with mildewed tomes, dusty bottles, and loose sheets of parchment. A wide staircase climbed about ten feet up to a stone loft, atop which rested a wooden desk and a chair made of lashed bones.

Near an iron-bound set of double doors stood two cages, each one holding a man-sized drake with crimson scales wearing a yoke. They snarled and bared their fangs, clearly ravenous. 

Several goblins were gathered in the room, and they stared at the random strangers with wide-eyed confusion. They glanced first at each other, then all of them looked up towards the one who appeared to be their leader, croaking something like, "Snilvor?" at him.

"Snilvor" spoke in a demanding voice to the goblin toadies scattered around the room from the stone staircase in the language of goblins, and suddenly the toadies turned on the three strangers and croaked out a hardly menacing battle roar.

Just then, Snilvor jumped off the staircase onto a small table just beside XIII. The small surface gave him enough height to be about as tall as XIII, whom he swung his skull-topped rod at. The skull merely made a humorous clunk sound as it collided with XIII's head. XIII merely laughed and in the blink of an eye, he whipped out his chain, ominously caked with dry blood in some places, and wrapped it around Snilvor's slimy green neck.

As he did so, one of the toadies ran over to the drake cages and set them free. Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos as the toadies all began attacking pathetically at once along with the bloodthirsty drakes. The drakes were the only ones that could really do any damage; they snapped at every nearest foe with their dagger-like teeth. 

Lirael feystepped to the staircase, from which he cast a dark and terrible thought into the nearest goblin toadie, whose eyes popped out of his head and he fell dead due to te shear mind-altering horror. It quickly spread like a mental plague from the first to the next, affecting even Snilvor and a nearby drake and finally obliterating another toadie's mind to death. 

Rayne attacked the drake that was targeting him, killing a few toadies on the side, as he swung his blade wildly with the strength of the earth which now surrounded him on all sides as they fought in the hidden underground study.

Meanwhile, Snilvor was still struggling against his bonds, but XIII relentlessly held him up by the chain around his neck. Between that and the ravening thought plaguing his mind, it seemed all the vessels in his head burst and blood began to spew from random wounds in his head. Suddenly, one of the drakes caught a whiff of the scent of blood and charged over immediately to gorge on whatever it was that was emitting it. XIII never relinquished his hold on the goblin, even as the drake viciously devoured him.

But eventually he gave in with a tender heart and laid the carcass down on the floor for the drake to feast upon while he went to help the others in finishing off the last of the goblins. His cheshire eye bite bit the life out of the nearest toadie and he grinned with satisfaction. 

Finally, they focused on the mad starving drake, which attacked them relentlessly, biting whoever it could get near. Lirael ran and took a flip off the the side of the staircase while simultaneously pulling out his sickle and slashing at the throat of the last goblin toadie remaining, who fell to the floor lifelessly. He then forced his way into the drake's simple mind and ripped out all images of himself, causing the drake to stagger in mental pain.

The others continued their assault on the drake with little luck as the drake was absolutely berserk. Lirael tore yet another memory hole in the drake's mind, leaving Rayne with an opportunity to strike with the strength of stone. As it recovered slightly from the blow, the drake charged at XIII who had been attempting to move to a more safe position. But in the nick of time, Rayne leaped into the air, slamming his blade down with full force, severing the drake's head from its body before it was able to reach XIII.

They looked around the room at the bloodshed. The other drake was lying peacefully beside the carcass of the goblin emissary, which was now little more than bone. XIII walked up to it and knelt by its side, patting its head lightly. The drake opened its eyes, calm and pleased by its full stomach, and gave XIII a grateful lick, its jaws still dripping with blood and guts.

I won't make the same mistake again, XIII thought, remembering his fallen love.

"I shall call you Grognarc," He informed the drake, "And I will take care of you from now on."

Chapter Three - Part 3 - The Woodsinger Elves

It was warm, almost stifling, under the canopy of the forest, and not a breath of wind stirred. As the party of three paused to gain their bearings, peering into the forest gloom, they heard a voice.

“Hold there, strangers! We would speak with you.” A moment later, an elf dressed in a short tunic of brown and green stepped into the open and advanced towards them, a bow in his hand. “I am Israfen of the Woodsingers,” He said, “I see that you are not Harkenwolders, and you do not look like the mercenaries of Iron Keep. Who are you and what is your business in the Harken Forest?”

The adventurers explained themselves to Israfen who replied, “This is a matter for Eriyel. Come, follow me.” Just then, two more elves stepped out of the shadow of the trees to join him and the three hunters led the party to a small elven encampment in a clearing by a forest stream.

Israfen led them through the crowd of suspicious elves to an elf woman of middle years with dark eyes and long green-gold hair.

“This is Eriyel, chief of the Woodsinger clans,” Israfen introduced them to the woman, “Eriyel, these strangers have important business they wish to discuss with you.”

“Greetings, strangers,” Eriyel spoke softly and slowly, “I sense that you bear a great request.”

XIII remained silent, as did Lirael, who shifted uncomfortably, surrounded by the elves. Rayne bowed slightly in respect, “We bear no ill will, Eriyel,” He said, “My name is Rayne, and this is Lirael and XIII. We wish to help the Harkenwolders in their fight against the Iron Circle—”

“I see, but that has nothing to do with us peaceful Woodsingers. What is it you wish of my people?” Her voice was not unkind, merely concerned.

“You see, the Iron Circle is a plague upon these lands. The Harkenwolders cannot face them alone,” Rayne began to explain.

Eriyel lowered her eyes slightly, “I grieve for the evil that has covered the land of Harkenwold, but it is not our fight.”

“Your elven camp here won’t be safe from the Iron Circle forever,” Rayne said.

Lirael stepped in, “It is true. They plan to conquer all of the Vale. They will come to you.”

“If you ignore the threat, you are fools,” XIII said grimly.

Eriyel paused to collect her thoughts before she spoke, “There could be truth in what you say. Evil left unchecked cannot help but spread. Still, I deem it better to wait and watch for now. Given time, this Iron Circle may simply move on. It is too early to say.”

“The Harkenwolders are preparing for battle,” Rayne said desperately, “The Iron Circle has already been provoked. Bloodshed looms on the horizon! How can we convince you to help? There is no way the people of Harkenwold can stand up to this threat alone.”

“You ask us to risk our lives for you. If you were to do the same for us, we would be obligated to match your selflessness. There is a sanctuary hidden beneath a ring of standing stones, near the ruins of Dal Nystiere, an old eladrin village a few miles from here. An evil presence there poisons the surrounding forest. Put an end to this threat and we will aid you.”

XIII rolled his eyes, “Will the chores never end?”

“An eladrin village…Lirael does this peak your interest at all?” Rayne asked.

Lirael folded his arms, “No, not really…Look, Eriyel. It is no use evading the task at hand. The Iron Circle is planning to stomp out the Woodsinger clan before they can cause any trouble. If you do not take this opportunity to fight alongside the Harkenwolders, you are all doomed, Woodsingers and Harkenwolders alike.”

“I am not that easily fooled, eladrin,” Eriyel said with a half-smirk, “We are elves, not dwarves. We can see what is plainly in front of our face and we can smell danger in our forest before danger even knows it is here. The Iron Circle is hardly even aware of us.”

XIII was becoming impatient, “You elves have a funny way of showing your care of the land. It seems questionable that you are interested the well-being of Harken Forest at all if you are not even willing to fight the Iron Circle to keep them away from this innocent place.”

Eriyel sighed sadly, “Forgive me, strangers. I wish to help you but my problem is that I have been preoccupied by this evil in the forest that hunts us unceasingly. I do not have the strength or numbers to send aid to Harkenwold while I am busy trying to protect my people from the evil in Dal Nystiere. To send my best bows out to Harkenwold to fight would mean the end of the Woodsingers right from within our own woods. Help us help you by ridding us of this evil presence and I swear we will fight for your Harkenwold.”

“Fine,” Rayne said, “What are we up against if we agree to face this ‘evil presence’ of yours?”

“An undead wizard named Yisarn lurks in the sanctuary. He has allied himself with the Daggerburg goblins, our hated enemies. Defeating him would be a great service to us. Wizards used to use the sanctuary as a private place to conduct magical research. It lies underground but you can teleport there by pouring dragon’s blood onto a pedestal located in the ring of standing stones.”

Lirael huffed a sarcastic laugh, “Dragon’s blood!”

Eriyel interjected before he could turn to leave, “I can provide you with a vial of green dragon’s blood, which we obtained at great cost. I will give it to you as a sign of our trust. There is only enough to activate the stone once. So you will have to be extremely cautious with it.”

“Hmm,” Lirael thought for a moment, “I suppose I am beginning to feel more confident about this. One little undead mage, how hard could it be? Alright, we will take care of your evil. When we return, you will march against the Iron Circle.”

After the arrangements were made, Israfen escorted them to the trail which would lead them to the ruins of Dal Nystiere and handed them the vial of dragon’s blood as he said his farewells to them.

“Listen, you need only mutter the name of the place you wish to go once the stones are activated. Good luck, strangers. I await your safe return, as do the rest of my clan.”

With that, the adventurers were on their way, into the depths of the forest.

Chapter Three - Part 2 - Hunted

In order to avoid Harken Village, the adventurers had to travel cross country using dirt trails and back roads on their way to the Woodsinger camp. As they left Albridge, the skies darkened considerably and rain clouds began to roll in. It was not long before the pouring began and the travellers were forced to endure the cold and wet.

They had been travelling for hours through the heavy rain and the muddy ground clung to their boots. The track they were following cut through and abandoned farmstead a few miles from the edge of the forest and through the fog and rain they spotted an Iron Circle woman holding a lantern from atop a large, red-scaled drake. The drake roared, and standing behind some nearby trees were three more brigands with crossbows.

“There they are!” shouted the woman on the drake. She was obviously their leader, dressed in a red surcoat.

The adventurers were taken by surprise but had been prepared for the Iron Circle to be on the lookout for them after they had attacked the caravan with the intent of angering the Iron Circle.

XIII jumped over the stone wall beside him where he saw a rabble of the Iron Circle waiting for him. He gave the peon a forceful kick, which knocked him backwards into the door of the small house he stood in front of and his head smashed through the small window of the door, tearing a deep gash in his head. He slumped to the ground, his eyes glazing over.

Meanwhile, the brigands waiting behind trees with their crossbows moved cautiously forward to closer trees while Lirael used his fey teleportation to the other side of the house where another minion was waiting beside the stone wall. Lirael grabbed him and pulled him over to smash his head through yet another window, which was not enough for Lirael, who then kicked him limp body into the tough cobblestone wall of the house beneath the window where he then fell lifelessly upon the shards of glass on the ground.

The woman steered her drake over towards the party of three and Rayne prepared himself to watch for either of their attacks before he mustered up the power of the Thunder Ram and slammed down upon the woman with his blade, knocking her off her mount and sending forth a shockwave that even the large drake was shaken by.

The brigands began closing in on them, taking shelter behind the trees and the house, as the Adept woman stood from where she fell off her drake and charged at Rayne, tearing a gash in his armor. XIII noticed Rayne was in trouble as the Adept struck him and another brigand shot a bolt into his leg from behind the house and, from afar, shot his cracking eldritch ribbons of energy at the woman, piercing her armor and drawing blood from the deep stabs in her chest.

Lirael, on the other side of the yard, tore his memory out of the mind of the brigand nearest to him and jumped over the dead body he had strewn on the ground into the window of the house while the brigand stumbled under the disorienting attack on his mind.

The drake charged at Rayne, who luckily ducked under it, causing the drake to slide in the mud, missing Rayne completely. The Adept was waiting for Rayne, however, and they exchanged a few clashes of steel. The Adept swung wildly, clutching her bleeding torso, her dagger wreathed in dark flames.

XIII ran around the corner of the house to get a good angle and summoned the hellish flames of Phlegethos, which sprang up as cascades of fire that engulfed the drake, who screeched terribly in the searing pain of the flames. Before the drake could recover, his scales smoldering, XIII transformed into a cloud of mist and disappeared into the relative safety of the house.

One of the brigands attempted to shoot XIII through a window but missed as another ran across the farmstead towards the small cabin across the trail from the house near Rayne’s standing point.

From inside the house, Lirael walked over to a window, where he could clearly see Rayne and the Adept woman fighting, and sent horrible visions of hellish tortures that contradicted the very essence of life itself into the mind of the Adept woman, which in turn seeped from her mind to the drake’s and they both squirmed under the torment of it.

In a rage, the drake attacked the first thing it could see, which was Rayne. He bit Rayne and the taste of the blood spilling from his arm invigorated him, shaking the ravening thought from his mind.

Rayne absorbed the strength of the earth beneath his feet into his arm and crashed down upon the Adept behind him with the strength of stone, crushing her to death and giving himself a surge of energy.

XIII ran out the front door of the house and sent a fierce line of black fire at the drake, who was still smoldering from the first fiery assault as a cascade of crossbow fires came at Rayne and XIII from all sides. XIII was able to dodge them, but Rayne, who was already severely battered, struggled to move effectively and was struck by another dart in his thigh.

Lirael tried forcing his mind upon the drake but the drake was too distracted by the fires that plagued him to notice Lirael’s mental attempts. The drake lunged itself at XIII but Rayne threw himself at the drake, lashing out with nature’s fury and sinking his blade deep into the neck of the drake.

The drake fell, its head hanging pathetically from its mangled neck, at XIII’s feet and gazed despairingly into his eyes. Suddenly, XIII was overcome with sympathy for the drake and for some reason was regretting ever fighting with it. He found himself longing to be the drake’s companion, caring for it and being cared for by it. It was as if the only thing he had ever loved had died. XIII never realized the potential for the emotional bond because he had been too busy trying to slay the creature before he had ever given himself the chance to try and understand it or feel for it. XIII was filled with remorse and a plethora of mixed feelings about his outlook on life.

Before the feelings could control him any longer, he ran around, becoming submerged in shadow, while drawing out his razor sharp claws and then dug them into the first brigand he came in contact with.

From just outside a window, another brigand shot Lirael in the hip. So Lirael, quietly enraged, grasped the wound and looked up at the brigand. He put his arms up, and with a pathetic plea, he said to the brigand, “I surrender, foe. Please, come and take me. Just don’t hurt me anymore!”

The brigand gave a grunt of a laugh and lowered his crossbow as he stepped in through the window. Just then, Lirael sent a force of psionic energy into the brigand, heaving him into the burning fireplace nearby. The brigand screamed in pain as he scrambled to get out of the fireplace. But Lirael thrust into his mind with his terrible imagery, knocking the brigand backwards into the back wall of the fireplace where he slumped to his fiery death.

Rayne and XIII outside were dealing with the second brigand. Together they took him down easily. But where was the third? XIII walked into the small nearby cabin and out the back door, where he found the last brigand cowering shamefully. Purely for the amusement of it, XIII took on a dark persona and began shouting in Abyssal while flailing his tongue at the terrified soldier, who ran futilely towards the other house. As he stood, backed into a corner at the front of the house, Lirael leaped out of the window beside him and sent threatening, serpentine words of Infernal into his mind, further terrifying him by pulling out his sickle with a menacing grin.

Rayne then ran up and transformed into a large willow tree, entangling the brigand in his roots and branches. With a maniacal grin on his face, XIII ran up to the group and pounced on the brigand, digging his claws deep into his chest, then tearing open his ribcage. He wrenched out the poor mans lungs, shoving one in his own mouth and the other in the brigand’s mouth. Rayne’s form shrunk back to his normal humanoid shape, allowing the brigand’s disfigured body to fall lifelessly to the ground. Frustrated that he never got to use his weapon, Lirael slashed at the brigand’s neck before walking away.

The rain was still coming down fairly hard, and the blood of all of the fallen adversaries mingled with the water and mud, staining the entire farmstead in red.

XIII walked solemnly back over towards the drake and cut the ruby from his collar as a token to remember him by while Rayne and Lirael scavenged the area for supplies and goods. He stood and went to find Lirael in the cabin.

“We should remember this place,” He said to Lirael, “It is a good place to rest and it looks as if no one but Iron Circle numphwits have used this place in years.”

Lirael smiled, “Yes, exactly. And wouldn’t it be easy to mug any passersby for their riches if we were to hide out here…?” He speculated out loud, “But, anyways…I’m going to get my rest now. You should do the same.”

With that, XIII jumped out the window, ignoring the door completely, and went to curl up beside the fallen drake in the now drizzling rain.

In the morning, the three decided to head out to the elven camp immediately. Before they left, XIII took a few minutes to say his last goodbyes to the drake. Then he was struck with a compulsion to take a piece of the drake along.

If I cannot have your heart in life, he thought, I shall at least have it in death…

And thus he carved out the drake’s cold, still heart then packed it away in his bag before following after Lirael and Rayne.


[I just want you to know that Michael was playing Shadow of the Colossus while I wrote the part about XIII and the drake so I had this song to write to....

I think I was close to tears.]

Chapter Three - Part 1 - A New Errand

After running his errand, XIII returned to the Inn as the setting sun finally began to sink out of sight beyond the horizon. Trying to be frugal, XIII decided yet again not to spend his money on a room at the Inn. Instead, he climbed up the side of the building to sleep on the cozy straw roof beneath the glistening starry sky. Upon waking in the morning, he forgot that he had been sleeping on a roof and stumbled over the edge. Luckily, he managed a somersault as he hit the ground and avoided severely injuring himself.

He looked around, wondering whether or not anyone had witnessed and/or noticed enough to admire the stunt he had just pulled off. Realizing that it was too early in the morning for anyone to be walking around, he then went inside and met up with Lirael and Rayne. As soon as they all were prepared, they left for Gremath Stables.

Dar Gremath welcomed them inside when they arrived and Rayne greeted him first, “Good morning, Dar Gremath,” He began, “It is done. We have ambushed the caravan you spoke of and made mince meat of the reavers we found there.”

“Excellent!” Dar Gremath grinned, “That should piss Redthorn off. Now he’ll see that he actually has a problem on his hands. My runners have been doing there jobs spreading rumors that should get Redthorn angry enough to march on us. Only thing we need now is numbers. I could really use you guys  to—”

Lirael interrupted, “Sir, you are pushing a whole lot of authority on us. We have already finished one of your little errands and already you are giving us new orders.”

“Lirael, show some respect,” Rayne hissed at him.

“No, that’s all right, Rayne,” Dar Gremath said in a serious tone, “I apologize, you three. I don’t have much to work with here. I’m just used to giving orders and having people listen to me blindly. Everyone around these parts know their too incompetent to organize a rebellion.”

“Fine,” Lirael calmed down, “I suppose I better understand your situation.”

“How about the bullywugs near Tor’s Hold?” Rayne asked Dar Gremath, “Reithann said that if we took care of the bullywug problem it would free up a bunch of stout fighters.”

“Aye,” Nodded Dar Gremath, “But I may also suggest travelling to the Woodsinger camp in Harken Forest. I bet you could convince the Woodsinger elves to join our forces, which would be a huge boost to our troops. In fact, I know you could do it. I see a lot of promise in you fellows.”

“We will go to the elves…” Lirael said, “The travel time is much shorter.”

All of the sudden, without any sort of notice, XIII backflipped out the door and out of sight. Dar Gremath sat unflinchingly in his seat, staring after him, eyebrow raised, but of course he did nothing about what he had just seen. Lirael, who had come to expect this type of behavior from XIII, followed after him while Rayne shook his head and said his goodbyes before he, too, walked out the door after his two companions.

Grognarc

Character Name: Grognarc (Groggy)
Gender: Male
Race: Bloodseeker Drake
Height: 3' 7"
Length: 5' 1" (8' 4" with full length of tail)
Weight: 468 lbs
Alignment: Hungry
Personality: Grognarc is easily distracted when he is hungry. He has a tendency to attack his allies when he is starving, especially if they smell tasty. But Groggy has a fondness for XIII, who he can tell has a tender heart for him. He is cute, cuddly, and lovable. His Intelligence score of 2 has earned him the nickname Groggy.
History: Grognarc is the party's new pet Bloodseeker Drake. XIII befriended him in the pre-battle before encountering Yisarn the Undead Mage. Prior to his domestication, Grognarc was a poorly treated slave-drake of the Goblin Toadies that Yisarn was using to his advantage.

Chapter Two - Part 4 - Waylaying the Caravan

Once the trio reunited at the Mallard Inn and took the night to rest, they gathered in the tavern to decide what to do with the new tasks they had been given.

"What information did the Druid present?" Rayne asked Lirael and XIII.

"She told us that there are potential reinforcements at Tor's Hold, but we would have to take some bullywugs off their hands. Sounds like a big project to me," Lirael replied, unenthusiastically.

"I see," Said Rayne, "Well, Dar Gremath told me about a supply caravan heading out from here today. We could attack it to anger the Iron Circle, which would help Dar Gremath to lure their leader out of his little castle."

XIII grinned, "That sounds like a fun alternative with instant gratification."

"And there is probably some treasure to loot on said caravan," Lirael added. "Let's just attack the caravan and then we could see if Dar Gremath needs the Tor's Hold reinforcements."

They all agreed that this was a decent option and so they headed out immediately to prepare themselves for an ambush. On the outskirts of town they each hid on the side of the road where they knew the caravan would be pulling through. Shortly thereafter, a large wagon pulled by a big cart horse creaked along the dusty road. Sure enough, it was driven by Iron Circle soldiers, two of them in the familiar black cloaks, and one in chain mail with a dark hood over his head. Unlike the soldiers, he wore a red surcoat and his embroidered Iron Circle design was black trimmed in gold.

Before they lost their chance, Lirael and Rayne jumped out from their hiding spots and ran after the caravan. One of the brigands turned around in his seat and shouted, "Hey! Who's there?!"

Rayne leaped into the air, jumping onto the roof of the wagon and swinging wildly at the soldiers just below. But they dodged his blow, one of them pulling out his crossbow and shooting towards him. Luckily, the top of the wagon caught the bolt before it struck Rayne.

Meanwhile, XIII popped out of a bush as the wagon pulled to an abrupt halt next to it, summoning black flames which crashed into a startled brigand's shield. Lirael attempted to corrupt their minds, but their minds were in chaos already, with the sudden and quite unexpected ambush.

Suddenly, the Dark Adept stood from his seat on the wagon and shot long tendrils wreathed in flame at XIII, who ducked at the last second to avoid their fiery bite.

With crossbows firing at him, Rayne's skin started to become thick and bark-like as his limbs began to turn into branches and roots, planting him to the top of the wagon and entangling the soldiers in both roots and shock. The first brigand pulled out his scimitar and swung at Rayne, who took the blow unflinchingly.

XIII transformed into a cloud of mist and drifted silently over to the opposite side of the wagon where he could safely project his vampiric shadow on the all too proud Adept, which clutched him and sucked a great chunk of his vital energy out, bringing it back to XIII.

Lirael took a brief second to focus his mind and use it to send a forceful thrust of imagery to the Adept as well, which sent him flying backwards off of the wagon, clawing at his head for an escape from the mental assault before he gave in to the dark call of death.

Turning his crossbow on XIII, the second brigand was unpleasantly surprised as Rayne lashed out with one of his powerful branches, tearing a deep gash in his torso before he even had the chance to shoot. Then, with another branch, Rayne summoned the energy of the earth to slam down on the brigand from above, crumpling his helmet with the stony branch right into his skull.

Shaking with the fear of witnessing his two comrades' deaths, the first brigand shoots a crossbow bolt towards Rayne but it whizzed through his branches into the air, missing. So he turned around to cut the reigns of the horse and jumped madly from the wagon, but the horse bolted so fast out of the horrific scene that the brigand fell to the ground, afraid and all alone.

XIII mercilessly placed a dark curse on him before sending ribbons of eldritch energy, crackling with black lightning, towards him. At first, the brigand rolled out of the way, causing the ribbons to pierce ineffectively into the ground. But XIII pulled them back and sent them flying right at the brigand once more, this time forcing them right into the soldier's chest.

As he clutched at the dark wounds, the brigand was assaulted by Lirael's psionic energy. It was too much for the reaver to withstand, and he fell to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head, to writhe in mental anguish for a few short seconds before he lost the will to live on.

Rayne's branches and roots collapsed back into limbs and he jumped off the wagon as Lirael darted to it to scavenge for treasure. They divvied up the findings, pleased to enjoy a few well-earned comforts for their effort and gathered to decide what came next.

"I suppose we should just head back into town before someone notices us here," Rayne said, and the others agreed.

"Ah, those poor soldiers," Lirael said sarcastically, "You have to wonder if they have a God they will beg for mercy on their way down to where ever it is they will end up going....Oh, but...Do either of you worship the Gods?"

Rayne raised his hand to admit that he did, "Yes, I favor Melora. I can relate easily to her. She understands that one must live in harmony with the wild, something my blood calls for me to do."

"Interesting," Said Lirael to himself, "I can't say I follow any particular deity. I suppose I relate most to Corellon most, though. He understands beauty as it should be and I admire that. What about you, XIII?"

XIII shrugged, "I care not for the Gods. Useless things, sitting up on their thrones just enjoying their pampered lives..."

Lirael laughed and then said with a smile, "Ha! Yes, I guess that's one way of looking at it."

Back in town, XIII decided to split up from the group to go and run a "personal errand." He went to visit the house upon whose doorstep he left a decaying offering of flesh and bone. Curiously, the house was dark and appeared to be abandoned. The head was still lying on the doorstep. However, upon closer examination, XIII noticed that the pearl was missing from the eye socket...

World Map W.I.P.

I have been working on the world map. It's not done yet, but here's what I've got so far.

 So here is a brief explanation of the continents. Prastuil is dwarf land. It is mostly mountains. Buldar is where orcs and giants live. Clearly there isn't that many of them. But they really don't get along with the dwarves. 

The next continent over is like America, it's a melting pot. Damara is arid and harsh land. There are mostly scattered tribes of humans. The Iron Circle originated in Damara, with big dreams of conquering the entire continent.

Elkazar is a country that likes to focus on technology. But there is no futuristic stuff in my world, so think steampunk. Mostly humans live here as well. They typically frown upon the use of magic in Elkazar, believing that science is the only natural way. Erathis is revered in Elkazar.

Algarond is just your average medieval country. They focus on agriculture, but there are several big cities in Algarond. Algarond is an ancient land, with ancient ruins everywhere. Magic is used heavily in Algarond, as many believe that magic was found by the humans in this area. Half-elves are prevalent in Algarond, along with humans and a lot of Daemons, shifters, and half-orcs mixed in here and there. This is the most diverse country due to the fact that both magic and science are popular here.

The Nentir Vale is a quiet isolated country which consists of mostly scattered farms as well. There are a lot of dwarves and halflings in this country.

Harrowdale is also another quiet isolated country which focuses on agriculture. Harrowdale is a very religious region, though. Temples are found every few miles and monasteries are very common. Again, humans are most common in this area, but there is a little bit of everything.

The Lundeth Peninsula is a fishing country, mainly. Water trades are the specialty here. There are a few dense cities but other than that, this country is not heavily populated. It likes to keep a "mind-your-own-business" mentality so citizens like to keep to themselves, communicating with the outside world only for the purpose of trade.

Zetriel is a heavily magic using country. Magic and the arts are worshiped here, so Corellon is quite popular. There aren't many huge cities. The population tends to focus around the vast amounts of arcane libraries and schools to be found here. 

The Silver Marshes are mostly inhospitable lands. The continent is kind of like one huge glacier. The ice shifts constantly and water moves in and out everywhere. It is unpredictable terrain where the frigid temperatures are deadly. The does however make is a great place to search for rifts into the Elemental Chaos. Commoners fear this continent, but it has proven to be quite useful to some of the more adventurous adventurers. There are, however, a very few scattered tribes of nomads who have come to be quite attached to the land and are experts in the ways of navigating and foraging for food and supplies here.

The Nelanthyr Isles are very mountainous and ancient. It is said that the most terrible and the most magnificent of beasts reside upon the Isles. There are few people that live here, but some say there are great masters who live as hermits among the mountain tops. 

Tobeymoor is the quaintest of the Halfling communities. The Halflings keep to themselves here where they are, for the most part, un-bothered by the outside world. The elves that are their neighbors do not bother them, and rarely do travelers venture so far as to go here.

Velenril is the Elven country of wood elves and elven nobles. This is an ancient land, set in their ways of tradition and elven culture. Generally, outsiders are not welcome. But of course, you would find the foreign race of people here and there in some of the communities and tribes. There is only one great city in Velenril, but that is not to say that the small villages of elves peppered throughout the densely forested land are not just as ornately beautiful and ancient.

Iriaebor is a land that the Elves of Velenril almost detest. It is the country where elves have turned to the civilized and technological ways of the humans in the continent across the Orofin Ocean. There are many cities struggling to rise up in the bustling world of trade and industrialization. There are many ghettos to be found here where half-elves are forced to live in. Racism against half-elves in this elvish society is common. They are looked down upon as the results of elvish lust for human whores, which they find to be quite degrading to their race. This racism is typically exclusive to Iriaebor, though. Shifters have made a few small societies for themselves on the border of this country, as they are not usually welcome in Velenril, but they prefer the forest that Iriaebor is continuously disregarding.

Bael Turath is the small country of the Daemons. It was once a place of grand palaces and gothic cities, but as of late, it has mostly fallen to ruin. Most of the noble families of Daemons have been corrupted and cooperation among families is rare to find. So most of the land is desolate, though full of history. Lately, Daemons have been venturing out into the world in search of something better.

Arkhosia is the tiny country where Dragonborn reside. They are very set in their culture and thus do not like to venture out of their small continent very often. Not much is known about Arkhosia by commoners, if commoners know about Arkhosia at all. 

Tiber is a densely forested continent that is winter all year round. It is most hospitable that the Silver Marshes, at least. But not many people live here because the forest is so difficult to navigate. There are a few small tribes, some nomadic. But other than that, travelers and citizens are rare here.