PBEM Orlantia

The Story So Far
Chapter 001

PBEM Orlantia: Vision's Plea.

The winter had been a hard one - much harder than usual. Though the Alderami Isles usually enjoyed mild winters thanks to the surrounding sea and its adjoining warm currents, this winter had been abnormally harsh. It made Afyanna feel - what? - pensive? Something was not quite right with the world, but she didn't know what. Whatever the case, she knew most would remember the winter of 28 - that's 728 A.E. - as one of the worst in over two decades.

Still, she couldn't let it get her down. Corellon Larethian Himself had touched her that autumn - had He not? She had briefly seen the disembodied form of his holy symbol floating before her glazed eyes the day the dam had broken. A crescent silver moon had momentarily appeared and shimmered before her eyes in midair, then vanished. She could not ignore it. She didn't want to, anyway. But she was uncertain what to do. This is what really was bothering her. The cold, frozen land that drew her warmth from her was merely annoying in comparison.

Thankfully Afyanna had chopped all the firewood she would need for weeks to come. Her muscles were sore, but she could knock off for nearly three weeks now if she wanted to, and she did want to. She needed to think - to reflect on what she would do next. In the meantime a roaring fire would feel good, and a good night's sleep would probably do wonders.

After building an impressive fire and finishing the last of the left over stew, Afyanna retired to her bed. She had no way of knowing what would come next. Soon, she fell asleep to the soft hisses emanating from the hearth.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Wrath! WRATH!* said a disembodied voice that seemed to come from the astral darkness of her dream.

Afyanna stirred in her sleep. A dream, yes? - It was only a dream. She turned over and adjusted her position and fell back into slumber.

*Wrath, child. Terrible. Horrible. Unchecked, out of control, mindless, hate driven . . . Wrath. In Wrath.*

Afyanna bolted upright and found herself sitting in bed. The flickering illumination of the fire had died down somewhat, but it still sufficed to reveal no one had entered her room. She was alone. Hours must have passed since she went to bed, judging from the fire.

*What's going on?* she asked herself. Then she 'heard' it again. Well, not heard, really. She felt the words echo gently in her mind.

*Wrath, you must seek it out. A calamity has befallen the innocent. They are paying with their blood, child. How long must they pay? How long can they endure? Go, my child. The crimson stain of blood is poor substitute for the rosé ambrosia of Wrath. You will, no doubt, need help. Seek them out, child. Choose wisely. By morning's light the fortunate Exador shall greet you. Fare thee well, child, in His name.*

The voice ended as abruptly as it had come. Only the soft crackle of the fire could now be heard. Had it been real? What did it mean? Wrath? Huh?

Afyanna pondered the night's occurrence, uncertain what she would she do?

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Guiding Light

It had been different, this last voyage aboard the Exador. Cosher had never been so far south before. And it had been unseasonably hot according to those native to the southern waters. He figured he be glad to return to his home waters and normal winters. Cosher thought that.

The Exador had spent nearly the whole of the winter down near Harborton, hauling cargo up and down the coast for king Magnus. He paid well. Cosher's own share would be double what he normally got. Yet that paled in comparison to what the captain made, or even the officers. And still what they made was as nothing compared to some, so the bardic tales said.

Pirates, adventurers, men of daring, men of action, they were rolling in it, he just knew it was true. Cosher longed for a taste of a better life. Some comfort would be good, but some excitement would be better. Exciting comfort was not out of the question, whatever that might be. He wondered about it.

This trip, for all its new vistas, he thought, was rather routine and humdrum. Cosher thought that.

Then the time came and the orders followed. Homeward. Set sail. Most were glad they would soon see their sweethearts and family. The weeks would fly by with very little to do. The hold was empty - bad logistics, that, but it couldn't be helped - so minor repairs and skylarking would have to keep them all occupied. Pretty routine, they thought. They all thought that.

They thought wrong.

Trouble first reared up when an iceberg unexpectedly appeared at night and grazed the Exador. That was bad. Veering off to port, luck was not their friend when they found its nearby companion. That one put a hole in the Exador's hull.

Icebergs? In Imperial Waters? What was going on? And the air grew bitterly cold and the mist and ocean spray began to coat the decks and rigging, all while a third of the crew now worked the pumps 24 hours a day. They were in pretty bad shape.

To add insult to injury, a cold, impenetrable fog rolled in three days later, cutting night's normally rotten visibility to zero. The captain ordered the sails struck down and the Exador drifted with the currents. It was as slow as they could go, for everyone feared another faster collision would doom them all.

"We drift the same as the bergs maybe," some said. Perhaps it was true.

Prayers were being uttered to Poseidon and other deities, crewmen were tossing in their solid gold earrings as an emergency offering to the sea gods, lest the gods should further swat the disrespectful. It was bad enough to meet death, but to not even have a chance to see it coming was frightening beyond belief. Couple all this with the fact at least a third of these sailors didn't know how to swim - as odd as that may sound - and you get the picture. Small comfort would have come had they known the waters were so cold that most wouldn't last 10 minutes even if they knew how to swim. Dead is dead.

Hours past.

Then a cry rose up. "A light! Do ye see it lads?"

Sure enough, a silvery crescent shaped light shone in the distance. Cautiously, the captain ordered the lowering of two long boats and they began to tow the Exador toward the light. The splashing of the paddles filled the otherwise silent night. They even seemed to grow louder after a time until a call issued forth to raise oars. Yet the splashing continued. It was the lapping of waves breaking against the shore of some unseen land. Panic raced up and down the decks as all tried to see if some rocks or reefs would soon tear them asunder, but nothing could be seen, save that distant light. Then it disappeared.

"Twas the moon, Pholar. That be all it were," the men said. And the fog broke and the overcast parted just then as night fell away with the coming of the dawn, and a small harbor was revealed in the clarity of a crisp winter's morn.

"Make for port," called the captain, and the men obeyed.

"Thanks the gods," all said without the slightest trace of buyer's remorse for their lost earrings.

And Cosher looked at the small port. One of the Alderami Isles - no doubt some small fishing village. Turning to go below decks, he then saw the moon, Pholar, but not in front toward the port. It was behind them. Whatever that light had been, it had not been the moon.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna's eyes darted about the dimly lit room for several minutes after the echoes of the voice died away from her mind. Every little creak of a shingle or popping of an ember refocused her attention in a new direction.

When she was convinced that she was indeed alone in the room, she relaxed her guard. A little at first, but after a few more minutes, she was sure. Still, sleep was no longer a possibility now.

Afyanna snapped up the top blanket from her bed and wrapped it around herself. The blanket did little for her bare feet and she tiptoed quickly across the room to the pile of wood. She plucked a few small pieces out and tossed them into the hearth. A dancing shower of crackling sparks greeted her and she turned and hurried back to the warmth of her bed.

Plopping into bed, she hugged her thighs to her chest and sat thinking. Feeling another annoying breeze, she wrapped the blankets of the bed tighter around herself.

*Wrath,* she thought. *What does that mean?* She lowered her head until her chin rested on her knees. She was convinced that this was no dream.

*Did it mean 'wrath' as in vengeance?* she wondered. *But then it also seemed to speak of Wrath as a place.*

She chewed her lip, deep in thought.

'. . .crimson stain of blood is poor substitute for the rosé ambrosia of Wrath.'

*What did that mean? Is this place Wrath a source of wine? Or IS there even a place called Wrath? If it did mean vengeance, then why would one call it an ambrosia?*

Afyanna sighed and leaned back against the headboard, letting her legs slide out in front of her. She mentally chastised herself for biting her lips, a bad habit of which her mother had never been able to break her. *I don't even know what this Wrath is. Whether it is a place, an emotion, or something more. Then there is this 'Exador.' Who is that? Is this a name? A faith perhaps? A wanderer?*

She shook her head to try to clear the confusion. She didn't even know what she was planning to do with her life and had taken refuge in her tiny house to sort things through. Now she was being driven to seek out this 'Wrath' to save the innocents. And she'd be met by some 'Exador.' She knew she must do something, but exactly what she was unsure.

As time slipped by and she thought more and more, she settled further and further back under the warm inviting blankets. Before she even realized it was happening, the events of the night drifted hazily away and she fell back into her interrupted sleep.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia:

As he went below decks, Cosher decided he wasn't keen on the situation that had just unfolded. Sure, he should have been relieved, as most of the others were that they had all reached a port without harm, but that mysterious guiding light had most certainly put the wind up him.

Reaching his bunk, he proceeded to gather his belongings together for disembarkation, admitting to himself - and quite possibly muttering under his breath - that the light which everyone had thought was simply Pholar could indeed be benign, some sort of helping hand to guide the stricken ship safely to land. On the other hand, his experience - though by no means vast - had taught him that such mysterious good fortune usually came at a price. He just couldn't get the niggling doubts out of his head that something entirely more sinister was at work there.

Nevertheless, Cosher was a curious young dwarf and the desire to discover what was actually responsible for saving his not inconsiderable behind - whether it be a force for evil or good - was growing by the minute. Great tales and songs were written that way, and Cosher agreed that his source material had been a bit thin of late. Much of the voyage aboard the Exador - icebergs and freezing fog apart - had been rather mundane, and now it seemed that the excitement he had been craving for some time was not too far away.

Slotting his tin whistle into its place in his belt and securing the buckles on his pack, Cosher looked around. The others, too, were preparing to go ashore, some returning to the decks to await their orders from the captain whilst others were gathering in small groups to discuss the strange events of the last few hours. It seemed he wasn't the only sailor to have suspicions about their luminous savior.

Cosher could see a lot sailors gesticulating and talking about Pholar being spotted in the opposite direction to where the light appeared, whilst others simply scoffed at suggestions that strange events were taking place. In fact, a small group had decided to lay bets on who could get laid quickest in the local tavern!

*Incredible! Some of these guys are so ignorant and pigheaded that they actually believe icebergs and giant will-o-the-wisps are the norm for a routine voyage like this.*

Cosher shouldered his pack and prepared to go above deck. *Sure, they're more superstitious that a three-fingered half-orc gypsy fortuneteller gazing into a crystal ball during a full moon when that fog closed in, but get safely to shore and now they're all running around joking about inns full of good beer and loose women! Eejits!*

On deck, Cosher decided to get hand on the situation. He approached his closest friends on the voyage and took them to one side.

"Lads, I'm no happy with what's going on around here," he began. Sensing a degree of skepticism, Cosher explained. "For a start, that wasnae Pholar shining out there, guiding us to the port. Do ye no see Pholar behind us? Remember, that light came from o'er yonder?"

Cosher pointed to where they had all seen the light, and to where Pholar could be seen, glimmering faintly astern. "Don't get me wrong, Ah'm very grateful that we're safe and all! Ah've even offered me prayers to Poseidon himself, but there's more to this so-called guiding light than we all reckon. All Ah'm saying is that we should be careful when going ashore - lets just keep our weapons loose in their scabbards and not overdo it on the ale. Ye know, just in case."

Cosher sensed he had gotten through to his mates, but the ale comment didn't seem to go down too well!

"Okay, Ah agree we do all need a stiff shot of good Fiadharainn whisky to calm our nerves and all that, but let's take it a wee bit easier than normal. Remember the last tavern? The brawl with those smugglers? Exactly."

A bit later Cosher looked for the second mate, anxious to find out what the captain's orders were. Spotting him further down the deck, he began to set off, and turning to his confidants he added, "Oh, and I want to investigate what this light really was! We need our wits about us for that, now don't we?"

He chuckled as he approached the second mate. "Lieutenant, what's the craic? Are we going ashore or no? What's the big man say?"

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna grimaced as the first rays of sunlight broke through her window and found her eyes. She rolled over and tried to steal a few more minutes of sleep, thankful that she no longer had to leap out of bed for duty. In a sudden moment of lucidity, the events of the night came back to her and she fully awoke.

The sleep Afyanna had gotten since the voice awoke her had dulled the sense of immediacy of the previous night. However, try as she might to explain it away, she was still certain that it was in fact no dream.

She knew that she had to do something but she didn't have any ideas as to what. Slowly an idea formed. *Perhaps,* she thought, *I was not the only one to receive this warning?* With the essence of a course of action growing, she thought ahead. *And if I was not, then perhaps someone in town did as well. And if so ... perhaps they spoke of it, and others are talking about it.* Satisfied, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and turned to face the day.

Afyanna rolled out of bed and slid her feet into her cold moccasins. She tossed a couple more logs into the fire to heat her home, and then crossed to the window. *Still cold,* she surmised. She turned her eyes to the cloudless sky, *but at least the sun will be warm today.*

She hung a pot of water high in the fireplace to slowly heat it and began making breakfast. Service in the cavalry had erased any notion of dainty eating and Afyanna ate her breakfast without pause. She then went back to the fireplace and got the pot of water. It was a little too hot, but adding some snow would solve that.

Afyanna stripped off her nightclothes and washed herself from the heated pot of water. When she was done, she got dressed in a heavy shirt and breeches and her warmest boots. Satisfied that the fire was stable and would be ok to leave for a few hours, Afyanna then grabbed her cloak and pulled it over herself. She dumped the wash water on the entry slabs outside her home to melt away the ice, set the pot inside the door, and headed out.

Afyanna enjoyed living out in the sparse woods. There were enough trees to be wooded, but not so many as to make one feel closed in. Her small home was only a few tens of yards from one of the roads leading into the town. From there, it was not even a mile to town. She was far enough from town to grant her some privacy, but not so far as to be isolated.

The sound of her boots crunching the soft snow was all that she heard for the first part of her journey. Soft puffs of breath hung in the air around her as she walked towards town. As she neared town, the homes grew more plentiful and so did the people. She nodded small greetings to those who took note as she passed - most were in no mood to talk anyway as they were usually hurriedly bringing firewood in from outside.

Afyanna arrived in town soon after the merchant's shop opened. She kicked the snow from her boots and stepped inside the shop.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: And The Lane Was Opened

Afyanna walked along the road, the bitterness of the crisp, winter air nipping at her as she made the 15-minute trek into Liothele. Briefly she contemplated running to reach warmth that much sooner, but decided the exertion would not save that much time. Besides, her more rapid breathing would needlessly chill her lungs. Instead she wrapped her scarf tighter over her mouth and breathed in the old warm air as it gently mingled with new colder air.

She walked along until she could see the path of meandering trees that grew alongside the road mirroring the natural trail of the Vivres, the small river that later emptied into Liothele Bay. You couldn't tell to look at its frozen stillness just then, but pent up and accidentally released, even that small river had carried lethal force. That had been a horrible day, she recalled, and yet her feelings were mixed about it, for it had also been the day He had touched and filled her soul.

The deafening stillness broken only by her muffled footfalls belied the robust and lively nature of the setting. Nearly all life lay dormant, waiting, but would emerge to greet the spring in a few scant scepters. Though winter had officially begun but a handful of scepters before according to the sages, it had in reality come early, and hard, its icy grip covering the land a good 30 days sooner than normal.

Many would go hungry this winter, Afyanna knew. Too much had been lost to early frost, and now only the intellect and foresight of sentience would save as many as it would. But Mother Nature's charges would not fair so well left to their own devices. Starvation would be rampant for the forest dwelling creatures. A small death would cover the land. She shuddered.

As she rounded the bend, Afyanna could see Liothele in the distance, quickly driving the morbid and unwelcome thoughts from her mind. The smoke from numerous dwellings spoke instead of the promise of life's endurance, and soon she was walking amid the log built common buildings of the beginning of the business district that approached the small harbor.

As Afyanna left the more traditional elven cabins, shelters, stacked rock dwellings and the nomadic stand of teepees and long huts behind, the buildings became the permanent brick structures where she entered the realm of the human influence surrounding the harbor.

A fair percentage of all elves never dwelled in permanent buildings, but chose nature's way as they moved two or three times a year to ease the burden upon the land. Permanent and artificial structures made little sense to them. There were exceptions, of course, but Liothele was not amongst those villages that sported the vast networks of permanent tree houses atop the giant mimbar trees native to those islands.

Reaching her first intended destination, Afyanna entered the small shop where she often purchased food and stores. She was warmly greeted by Holofeck, an elven merchant and one of the few elven childhood friends she still had in the area. He was considerably older than she was, but he was a full-blooded elf. They were, however, developmentally matched, as it was known in mixed communities. Both had reached adolescence about the same time and their common interests simultaneously turned from a child's into a young adult's. They had always remained friends.

"Thought you might come in when you heard the news," Holofeck said as he smiled at his friend.

"News? What news?" Afyanna asked, somewhat perplexed. *Does he mean the voice?* she wondered, even hoping that was exactly what he meant.

"Eh? You didn't hear? There's a ship come in just now."

Hearing this news, Afyanna didn't dawdle like she had planned and as she normally did with her friend. Instead of making her purchases then, she decided to wait until later so her hands would be free as she explored the activity below.

"I'll be back later, Hol," she said, making her apologies for such a brief visit, "but I want to see what's going on." Then she left.

*A ship? In this weather?* she pondered while she made her way down the hillside that naturally sloped toward the harbor below.

Then her thoughts were interrupted by something out of place. Masts. Two masts. A small, double-masted ship lay anchored just outside the bay where the water still remained free of ice. Ships were not all that abnormal in usual circumstances, but the hard winter had already clamped down on shipping this year. No such ships would have been expected. Arterim, the harbormaster and mayor of Liothele, had personally told her the other day he didn't expect any oceangoing traffic until spring. Yet there she lay.

*Peculiar design,* she thought. Her father's stint in the Imperil Navy made her privy to a thing or two about ships, yet obviously it hadn't taught her everything.

The only activity in town was down near the docks, but Afyanna slipped into Arterim's cabin - which overlooked the harbor - figuring he'd be there. Inside, Arterim and four others greeted her - two humans, a hobbit, and a dwarf. One human was slight, but muscularly wiry and clean-shaven. He looked to be in charge, and he was much better dressed. The other human was huge - 6' 10" if he was an inch - and about the hairiest man Afyanna had ever seen. The halfling looked normal enough, but Afyanna hadn't seen all that many of that race to really know. As for the dwarf, he didn't look normal at all. He was not really what she expected from a dwarf. He seemed very plump, taller than other dwarves she had seen, and then it struck her. He was a sea dwarf.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: The Harbormaster Of Liothele

The second mate of the Exador rubbed his chin in thought as he looked at Cosher, the frost covered thick stubble making a faint noise as it cracked and melted away at his hand's touch.

"He says we're to make repairs while anchored here," answered Lt. Robinson. "Most of the crew will be engaged with that task until the Exador is seaworthy again. I'm supposed to gather up three volunteers to row in to shore with me to see what's to be seen." The lieutenant looked like he had finished speaking, but then he smiled and looked right at Cosher. "Congratulations," he said with some mirth.

Cosher correctly guessed he had just 'volunteered.'

"You better gather up your gear. Take anything you think you might need and then report forward," he was ordered. "We may need that glib tongue of yours, and you speak Elvish pretty well, so pay attention and stay sharp. Don't speak Elvish. I'm sure they'll know Common. But if they say anything in Elvish, listen. Understand?" Cosh nodded in the affirmative, and then Robinson left him and disappeared into the captain's cabin.

Cosher actually took some pride in the lieutenant's confidence and knowledge about the dwarf's skills and usefulness on a mission, but then he had had a long time to get to know him this last voyage. Everyone knew he spoke Elvish. Either that, or he did a dang good imitation of it if he was reciting elven poetry by ear. And he also knew from the way Robinson had said it, part of what he was to take along were his weapons, and that might be why he 'volunteered' as well.

Gathering up his gear, Cosher reported forward as ordered and found Miniti, the only hobbit crewman, Gespar, a big, burly, and exceedingly hairy human - many teased him, calling him part ape - and Robinson, now clean shaven, already waiting for him. Others hoisted the longboat and its crew over the side and soon Cosher found his dwarven muscles straining at one of a pair of oars. It may have been yet another reason he 'volunteered.' Robinson steered, naturally. He made his way toward a group of apparently friendly men gathering along the icy shelf.

It was not long before they met the ice and could approach the shore no further. A field of ice, perhaps 60 yards wide, still lay between them and the shore, but it was safe ice. Nice and thick, probably quite shallow and above a sandbar or something. They knew it was safe since a dozen men were already standing on it waiting to greet them - at least he hoped they were waiting to greet them. He could not see any weapons.

Cosher marveled at all the ice, for normally salt water did not freeze so solidly, if at all, and his home waters never froze over. And his home was further north, too. Neither did these waters normally freeze, he guessed, but this winter, despite its youth, had already been incredibly brutal.

"Cast over the mooring ropes," ordered Robinson. Gespar did so effortlessly, the coil of treated hemp unwinding as it approached the group of men who then caught it. All there seemed friendly enough. In a small way, Cosher almost felt - what - disappointed? He still took his Sliobhann, his saber, with him. Determined not to be caught off guard, Cosher gripped his saber's hilt.

Pleasantries were exchanged in the Common language. No real information, however, except the village they found themselves at was named Liothele, and a man named Arterim was waiting to greet them in his office.

Ten minutes later, Robinson led his party into a warm cabin. The walls were covered with sea charts marking safe shipping lanes, schedules, and what Cosh guessed were invoices and manifests for who knows what. Behind a rather large table, also cluttered with papers and parchments well illuminated by several lamps, rose an elf that extended his hand to Robinson. He looked ordinary enough for an elf, yet he commanded a presence; an aura of confidence seemed to emanate from him.

Just before they were about to get into it, the door flew open and in stepped a dark haired halfelven lady. She gazed around the room, her hawk-like visage seemed as if it could cut right through Cosher since her eyes appeared to settle on him.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna kicked the snow from her boots on the front steps and then stepped purposefully into the Arterim's cabin. The mayor of Liothele maintained the small common area of his home as an offshoot of his office. He often conducted the less formal meetings in his actual home and all were welcome. Besides, she had grown up in Liothele and had known the Mayor her whole life.

She stopped in the small foyer to hang her cloak on a peg. Afyanna then realized that in her haste to find out what this strange ship was, she had miss-tied the buckles on her cloak when she left the shop. She pulled off one glove with her teeth and then used the bare hand to remove the other, shoving the gloves into her pockets before beginning work on the cloak.

Since she expected to find Arterim and his family inside, she paid little attention to the sound of movement from the next room. Detecting a lull in the muffled conversation, Afyanna pushed open the door with her hip and stepped inside. Still concentrating on her task, she frowned at an obstinate buckle and didn't look up before she spoke.

"Mayor, I thought you said there wouldn't be any ships until spring?" The buckle finally gave in and she nodded to herself in satisfaction. She looked up into the bemused expressions of five people in the room. Unfortunately for her, she knew only one of them. "I ... uhmm ... I apologize Mayor for intruding upon your meeting."

Afyanna tried to back out of the room gracefully, but her feet were having none of that. She was not used to being taken by surprise, and the mere fact that she had been made the situation even worse. She finally made it out of the room and into the foyer, but it was a minor miracle that she didn't trip. It was about the only grace she saved.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia:

Feeling slightly annoyed at this almost rude interruption by the halfelven lady, and added to the fact that she's actually given him a 'look,' Cosher turned to face the newcomer as she tried to make a graceful exit.

"Lads, to be sure," he began, his trademark smirk began to play across his face, "Isn't it very kind of our hosts here tae send in the local tavern serving girl tae get our drinks order? What will ye's all have? Fiadharainn whisky anyone?"

Cosher chuckled, and although he noticed the others from his crew began to laugh along with him, he was aware that the islanders did not seem so amused, and the newcomer especially so.

Now he felt slightly embarrassed, and may even have gone red, so he cleared his throat and took a step toward the lady.

"Milady, I apologize profoundly for me comments," he said sincerely. "On behalf of Lieutenant Robinson and the crew of the Exador, Willie-John McLean gives ye greetings. But ye seem a wee bit troubled. Can Ah be of service to ye?"

Cosher rounded his little speech of with his most charming grin, his Fiadharainn accent laid on to the full to impress.

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia: Not So Fast

Arterim coughed slightly at his friend's unexpected embarrassment, and he wondered if that dwarf fellow meant some sort of insult. He couldn't be sure. But he did apologize.

"Afyanna, my dear, please come in," he quickly shot out when he realized she had meant to leave and not just put something away in the foyer. "We have unexpected guests to Liothele. And opportune ones at that."

The halfelven lady quickly returned, but not so much because of the harbormaster's invitation. By the way she was looking at the dwarf, Arterim guessed it had been something he said that drew her back.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna fired off an angry glare at the dwarf for his insult, but it was replaced immediately by one of shock upon hearing the word.

"Did you say Exador?"

Afyanna regained her composure and quickly went over the conversation in her head. *That must be the name of their ship,* she surmised. She looked over the strangers before her, and then back at the Mayor. *Opportune ones,* she recalled Arterim saying of his guests. And the voice had said to her, 'By morning's light the fortunate Exador shall greet you.' *What ARE they doing here,* she wondered. *And who are they?*

She made a point of addressing the one introduced as Lieutenant Robinson. "My father was in the Imperial Navy, but I don't think he ever mentioned a ship quite like yours." Afyanna thought she detected a small hint of pride from him from her words. "It certainly must be an impressive vessel to travel here, when all others have tied up for the winter."

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: The Dwarven Galleon

Lieutenant Robinson stood straighter and with a measure of noticeable pride at his ship's praise.

"Imperial Navy, you say? Ah, yes. A fine organization, but we are not affiliated with the Alodarian Empire, if that's what you're thinking. My rank is more honorary and traditional, and due to my position on the Exador, just as anyone who owned and operated a ship might be called her captain. I'm not with any military organization. We're merchants, for the most part," he confessed, but there seemed to be more to it than that, judging from the way he said that. Whatever it was, he did not further elaborate upon that matter.

"The Exador," he continued, "is a dwarven galleon. It's sort of funny, you know? Most people incorrectly think that name implies dwarves made her or run her, but it's just a name of the class of ship. She's not overly fast, but she's strong, stout, and carries more cargo than we can normally afford to stow below her decks. The Exador, however, was actually built by some of Cosher's people about 20 years ago," he said, as he slapped Cosher's back. "They're fine shipwrights. Good thing, too," he said turning to the mayor.

"If her hull hadn't been so strong, we may not have made it here. At night and with the fog, we hit two icebergs. Icebergs! Can you imagine? And two of them? And in Imperial waters, no less. This winter is something else, isn't it?"

Now the mayor spoke. "Indeed, it's been one of the worst most humans can remember, but I can recall a few more that were as bad," said the elf.

"Anyway," said Robinson, "The Exador is a fine ship. In need of a few repairs and with her belly empty now, but she is a fine ship. Thank you," he added. "'Course Cosher here might be able to tell you more about the ship's design or where it was built if that's what interest you. I'm just her second officer. The captain would know more, I'm sure, but Cosh might as well, since his people built her."

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: The Exador

"To be sure, she's a fine vessel," Cosher began, stroking his bushy blonde beard. It seemed like he was gearing up for one of his legendary long tales.

"Ah'll not bore ye with too many details," he continued, and audible sighs of relief could be heard from his shipmates Miniti and Gespar, "But Lieutenant Robinson 'ere is right about the fine craftsmanship of the Exador. Aye, it's a Fiadharainn vessel all right; ye can easily tell by the superb detailing. The Fiadharainn, that's ma people - ye may have heard of us - we're renowned far and wide for our fine ships, and finer sailors of course!"

Cosher chuckled, whilst the other sailors shook their heads in amusement. He cleared his throat and continued. "As the lieutenant here did say, she's a strong ship and took a fair wee bit o' a battering. That's the dwarven side of her, ye see. The human sailors call these sort of two-masted galleons after the fact that they're much smaller than the three-masted versions, but we all know the truth is that they're much stronger and tougher than their bigger brothers. Much like the fine dwarven race!"

He performed a mock, exaggerated bow to those in the room, a large grin spread across his face.

"Yeh, shorter and wider just like the dwarves," laughed the rather huge Gespar, dealing out a playful cuff to his shorter shipmate.

Throwing the bigger man a playful warning look, Cosher cleared his throat and straightened his sleeveless jerkin.

"On a slightly more serious note," he said, "we are all quite lucky to be here in one piece. To be sure, the Exador is a fine sturdy girl, but we were in big trouble at one point during the night, what with the fog and icebergs as the good lieutenant here was pointing out. And sturdy as she was, there was something else that delivered our ship safely here."

Lieutenant Robinson began to protest, apparently aware what the sea dwarf was going to say, and not too pleased with it. But Cosher continued. "Sorry lieutenant, but Ah know what Ah saw, and Ah know that many o' the other lads saw the same!"

The lieutenant frowned and turned to Arterim to explain. "Mayor Arterim, some of the lads thought they saw a light in the fog last night."

"Thought?" chirped in Miniti, suddenly animated.

"The wee man's right lieutenant," Cosher continued. He too turned to address Arterim and the newcomer. "Mayor Arterim, lady Afyanna, our ship the Exador was drawn to port by a light in the sky. No, before ye say it, it wasnae Pholar. Both Miniti and Ah believe you too Gespar," Gespar nodded, "Both o' them saw it too! Ah checked. Pholar was shining away, far off astern. Nah, this light, it came from the direction o' your island, and it was that which was responsible for bringing us here!"

"Cosher, I think you're reading too much into this," protested the lieutenant.

"Maybe so, and maybe this light was simply a lighthouse or some kindly wee soul helping out a stricken ship with the help of a lantern. But Ah'm no so sure. In fact, by your leave Mayor, Ah wouldnae mind having a wee nosy a bit further inland."

"Cosher?" Robinson began.

"It's all right lieutenant," said Cosher. "It looks like we're going to be stuck here for a wee while, if the good citizens of the island will have us, o' course! So, why don't we make the most of our time here and look around? Ah could take these two while ye report back to the captain. And Ah promise Ah'll keep them out o' the taverns. In fact, if the mayor would be so kind, we could take a guide, someone to keep an eye on us. What d'ye say to that, Mayor Arterim? What about the lady here? Lady Afyanna, would you like to show us around this fine island of yours?"

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia:

Arterim looked somewhat perplexed at first at what Cosher was going on about, but then a slow smile broadened on his face.

"You don't know where you are, do you?" he said with a bit of mirth. "You're lost," he accused them.

Lieutenant Robinson looked embarrassed and angry at the same time, and he shot Cosher an impolite look.

The mayor went on. "Lost in the fog, and you want to look around the island, eh? Well, feel free. It's not up to me. I can scarcely keep track of the comings and goings of this harbor, and keeping track of the city is worse. As for the island, well," he looked thoughtful for a moment, but broke back into a grin, "it's about 132 miles long and 36 miles across," he said with a chuckle.

Robinson looked mortified, and Cosher slowly grasped why. To be so lost you didn't even know where you were was a mark of poor seamanship, an embarrassment, to be sure.

"Well, we're just a bit turned around, that all," stammered Robinson. "I mean, I know it must be one of the Alderami Islands. I'm just not sure which. That fog was incredibly thick, you see, and lasted for over 3 days. And the ice and frozen decks, the riggings, the drag lines were," he trailed off when he realized he was making too many excuses. The truth was, they were lost.

Arterim smirked a little, but then he composed himself. "Well, I guess it could happen to 'anyone.' For your information, this is the isle of Anadem, the second largest in the Alderami chain. About 48 miles south by southwest you can find the city of Nym. Almost 24 miles north, the city of Docley may be found. Right now you are just in the small village of Liothele, but it has a small, natural harbor," he finished his lesson in geography and again seemed happy - perhaps superior - to those who didn't know where they had been.

Yet he left the kind hearted ribbing aside when he refocused on something else Cosh had said. "There is no lighthouse here, and no one has reported guiding in your ship. How would they have known to do that? The fog doesn't get as bad over the land, but it was bad enough here last night along the shore. Naw, the only lighthouse around here is Nimbus Reach, the great lighthouse of Alodar over 100 miles to the northwest from here. She may be bright and incredibly tall, but she's not 'that' bright."

"Excuse me," interrupted Lieutenant Robinson, "but leaving our misfortune aside for moment, what did you mean when you said to this young lady we were 'opportune' guests?"

"Eh?" Arterim said. "Oh, yes. Well, I merely meant since winter closed in so soon, a lot of trade goods didn't get shipped out as intended. Since the lane has at least briefly opened, and since I noted the Exador is not laden with cargo, I thought I might make a business proposition."

Robinson nodded, perhaps glad they could talk of other matters besides being lost, or maybe he was eager at the prospect of earning some more money.

"My dear," Arterim said, looking at Afyanna, "there is not much to hold your interests here, so would you be a dear and show the Lieutenant's men around the village? The lieutenant and I have some matters to discuss."

Afyanna knew Arterim's request was more a polite order out of his office, but she took it as intended and the big man, the hobbit, and the sea dwarf exited with the halfelf so the harbormaster and the second mate of the Exador could no doubt haggle.

Across the way, the crisp cold but clear air did not obstruct the obvious view of Drifter's Drafts, the local pub.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia:

"I know exactly where we should begin looking around this island," said Gespar, and headed off in the direction of Drifter's Draft, not even waiting for a response from the others. The halfling skipped along behind him without hesitation.

"Lads, Ah said Ah would keep ye out o' the taverns, didn't Ah?" Cosher's protestations fell on deaf ears as his shipmates reached the tavern door. Cosher turned to Afyanna, a sheepish look on his face.

"Erm, sorry about this miss," he said, clearing his throat. "Ah do think we've all got off on the wrong foot. But we're not that bad a bunch really, and ye cannot really blame the lads for wanting a stiff drink - not after the night we've all had. So will ye join us for a swift shot o' Fiadharainn whisky? Allow Willie-John McLean here to buy ye a drink - or breakfast at least - as way of saying Ah'm sorry for me performance earlier. Besides, Ah can tell ye all ye need to know about the Exador, and ye can fill me in on your island here. And if ye don't mind me saying, ye looked a wee bit troubled when ye first came into the room back there. Is there anything the matter?"

Cosher gestured towards the tavern in his most gentlemanly fashion, barely drawing breath between sentences, as was his way once he got started. "Now, ye wouldn't have heard the one about the Half-Orc bar wench and her generous charms, now would ye? No? Well then, after a couple o' drafts o' Fiadharainn's finest malt, Ah'll maybes tell ye!"

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna had little time to respond before she was hurried out of the mayor's house and onward to Drifter's Draft. She rarely drank spirits, so the local tavern was not a place she frequented, though she had always known where it was.

*I wonder what this light is that they spoke of,* she mused as she followed along to the tavern. *It must be connected to the voice in some way.*

The precession turned down a drift-strewn side street that lead to Drifter's main entryway. She wondered if she should mention her voice but decided that she didn't know who these new people were. Besides, it was better to let them think they were crazy rather than include herself as well.

Afyanna smiled a little to herself as they climbed the 3 steps into the tavern.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia:

It was a warm, cozy public house, the tavern, but Cosh noticed it was not an inn. No rooms would be had at Drifter's. Disappointed the chance of a warm bed wasn't in the cards, his mind turned to thoughts of a warm drink instead.

"Ah'm happy to know ye, lady Afyanna. Let tha first round o' drinks be on me and we can talk a wee spell 'for the lieutenant comes fer us," he invited her to join them as the others pulled up a few chairs around the hearth that was centrally located.

A waitress took their orders, a collection of ales and whiskeys, or both. As soon as Miniti received his pint, he started talking.

"It looked like Pholar, sure enough," the hobbit said to Gespar, though the big man didn't seem interested in anything other than the waitress and his drink, always foundling the latter and probably wishing he was foundling the former.

"Twas a silvery crescent in the air shinning through the fog. I'd have sworn it was Pholar if Cosh hadn't pointed out Pholar twas behind us later. And Scepter is not out either, so it couldn't have been the other moon," Miniti concluded.

"Aye, the lieutenant was tellin' the capt'n the men were afraid," said Gespar. Apparently Gespar had been listening after all. "He doesn't like all this idle talk, Miniti. Makes the men more afraid."

"Who does no like it? The captain? Or lieutenant Robinson?" asked the hobbit.

"The lieutenant told the capt'n, so I guess it was Robinson who didn't like it. And you know him. If he doesn't like it, you better not talk about it in front of him."

"Lads, lads," interrupted Cosher, "Our guest is no interested in the daily workings of the crew of the Exador. What say we talk 'bout her home instead? Tis a lovely island. Ah bet she's gorgeous in the spring, is she no?" he asked the halfelf about her home.

Afyanna nodded, yet despite the beauty of Anadem or Liothele in the spring, she feared she would not be there to see it this year. Her lord wanted something of her. She just didn't know what. And it was becoming increasingly likely another disembodied voice wasn't going to volunteer further information. She guessed she'd have to leave her home in order to find out what was required of her.

*Is this what it means to be amongst the chosen?* she wondered. *Given a quest but with little to go on and nothing I need?* she questioned it all. She questioned herself. She was thinking about questioning the wisdom of her lord, but snapped back that thought before it fully formed.

"Yer no drinking?" Cosh said to Afyanna, somewhat surprised anyone wouldn't be drinking when the nectar was within arm's reach.

"Umm, no. I'm not much of a drinker, I'm afraid. Where do you suppose the Exador will go next?" she blurted out. Well, it did seem important, and it was an innocent enough question. She had to risk something, but she eased her way into it and around it. Afyanna cautiously made inquiries about the Exador, trying desperately to see how it tied in with the voice's instructions from the previous night.

"We'll probably just head back up along the chain of islands, island hopping until we get home. We have no cargo, and this winter is too brutal to keep going on in it," offered Miniti as he threw back the last of his pint and ordered another.

Time went by and Afyanna learned little on her present tact. She was considering a different approach when Robinson walked in.

"OK lads," barked the lieutenant. "We got a lot of work to do in the next few days, so I hope you've had your fill. We've first got repairs to finish, then we've got a new shipment to load and to deliver, courtesy of the good people of Liothele," he bowed to Afyanna. "So we better snap to it!" he grinned, pulling out a chair, "Right after another round."

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia:

"Ighn, tabh, DHEITH!" laughed Cosher - slipping into his native Fiadharainn tongue as the alcohol slowly took effect - and the four sailors shot back their 'Flaming Goblin Snot' drinks, slamming their empty glasses down hard onto the tabletop. The now standard curses, belches, and the occasional gasps for cool air at the scorching of the burning spirits accompanied this action!

Afyanna did not look impressed.

"Now Stenn," said Cosher addressing the lieutenant by his first name - he also got more familiar with his seniors after a few rounds in a tavern - whilst beckoning across the bar room to the waitress to bring 'the same again.' "To be sure we're in a hurry to get off agin, but the old girl's in a bit o' a state, is she no?"

"Aye, she's taken a bit of a battering, but a couple of hard days' graft and she'll be right as rain again!" said the lieutenant.

This was accompanied by good-natured groans from the three crewmen.

"Ah guess what Ah'm tryin' to say," began Cosher, "is that o'er the next couple o' days, the lads 'ere an' meself, we could look round the island a bit more, if ye can spare us, that is. We could, ye know, investigate this mysterious light. Ah reckon there could be somethin' in it. And ye never know lootenant; there might be some treasure involved. What d'ye say, eh? Keep this to ourselves and split the booty?"

Cosher turned to Afyanna, having observed despite his growing fuzziness that she seemed increasingly thoughtful and quiet. "What about yerself milady? Would ye like tae accompany us round the island fer a couple o' days, or was there something else on yer mind?"

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna sat nursing the drink that the sea dwarf had provided her. Truth be told, each sip refreshed the bitter taste in her mouth that she would rather avoid, but it would be impolite to refuse the drink Cosh had bought her. She was a private person by nature who took time to open up to people. This Cosher was positively brimming with enthusiasm, and his compatriots only seemed to fuel him further.

She spoke with them of her homeland and how, as a mounted messenger, she had seen a fair bit of it, at least from the roads and trails. Afyanna spoke of the open plains, the dense woods, and the high peaks. The Alderami Islands had many different landscapes within its many coasts, and she had been fortunate enough to see quite a few of them. Many of her travels had been to and from outposts to deliver news, mail, and the never-ending stream of reports that every army generates. After her awakening, she had made a point of taking routes that passed near the many temples of the islands.

Remembering the temples stirred something in her mind. There could be no mistaking that the Exador's arrival was predetermined, as was her meeting with these sailors.

She pondered the talk about the Exador's arrival while other conversation slid by.

'Twas a silvery crescent in the air shinning through the fog,' the hobbit had said. 'I'd have sworn it was Pholar if Cosh hadn't pointed out Pholar twas behind us later. And Scepter is not out either, so it couldn't have been the other moon,' Miniti had finished. That occupied Afy's thoughts for a good time.

*A silvery crescent?* she wondered. Could it be? It had to be. Afyanna stared at Miniti dumbfounded while her hand slowly drifted up to feel the medallion hanging on her chest under her shirt.

"Did you say Silvery Crescent?" she finally asked.

The hobbit nodded, taking another gulp of his drink.

Afyanna produced the medallion of Corellon Larethian from under her shirt. "Like this?"

Miniti's widening eyes and slowly lowered drink were answer enough.

Afyanna began to relate the events of the previous night to her tablemates. She told them of the voice and its commandment that she seek out the calamity in Wrath. She explained that she didn't know if Wrath was a place or not, but it seemed likely.

"I have only seen these isles and the nearby lands," she explained. Finally an answer seemed near at hand and she continued hurriedly. "I have never heard of anyplace called Wrath. You men have seen far more of the world than I. Surely you must know something of this Wrath?" The last was more of a plea than a question.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia:

The crewmen of the Exador reacted understandably at the halfelf's suggestion. They were startled and surprised.

Though a god may be represented by many symbols - some better known than others - seeing a clear, unambiguous holy symbol in nature sometimes required imagination, perhaps even a leap of faith. Cosh silently chided himself since it didn't occur to him before, but in retrospect, it now seemed obvious considering what islands they were on. And it was true that mysterious light could easily have been taken as the silver crescent shaped holy symbol now suspended on a thin and apparently well crafted silvery chain now dangling from Afyanna's fingers.

"You're a priests?" said Robinson, almost demanding an answer.

Afy wondered why the officer would come to that conclusion. Many non-priests carried holy symbols, after all.

"Well, not a priest so much as a 'holy warrior' in His service," she confessed.

The lieutenant almost seemed to want to disbelieve her, a look of skepticism playing around his eyes.

"And you expect us to believe your god saved us? So now what? We owe you, I suppose. Is that it?" His tone was that of a man who had been abused by con artists before.

"Not at all!" Afyanna protested, as she rose sharply from her chair in just indignation. She hadn't wanted to be there in the first place, and now that uncouth man was accusing her of trying to scam them?

"Lootenant!" Cosher strongly whispered in shock under his breath, suppressing his voice while directing it at the officer. But everyone at that table could clearly hear the dwarf. "I dinno think she meant that at all. I've heard many stories like hers and would no dismiss it so easily. And there was that light. What else could it have been? And remember, the mayor himself holds this wee lass in high esteem. She's no a con artist."

Robinson turned to look down on the dwarf, breathing hard at first, almost furious with him, but an unhurried dawning crossed his rugged countenance while his breathing slowed and the wisdom of Cosher's words began to take hold. Slowly, he sat back down.

"I'm . . . I'm . . ." he stuttered. "Sorry," he finally managed. "I'm sorry. I've had bad . . ." he trailed off. "Well, I'm sorry. I spoke . . . hastily." He rose then and without much in the way of further apology and announced, "I must speak with the captain. And Cosh. You and the men return to the Exador. It's too cold to go exploring the island anyway, and you've got work."

Then the lieutenant left.

The other men did not want to wait any longer. They had news to tell their shipmates, and besides, the lieutenant might be angry so they figured it was best to snap to it least he have something he could write them up on. Only Cosh tarried a moment longer, and soon the sea dwarf was alone with the holy warrior.

"You'll have to fo'give the lootenant. He's been a bit stressed lately, that's all it be. He meant no disrespect of your lord, Ah promise." Satisfied Afyanna seemed to believe him, he threw a few coins on the table and hurried off down to the longboat.

Afyanna wasn't quite sure what had happened, or more precisely, didn't know if harm would come of it. She decided to speak directly with Arterim about the matter. He was a good man, and a knowledgeable one.

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Two days had passed since Afyanna had left Arterim's office. Though disappointed the harbormaster knew of no town named Wrath, that alone meant something. It meant there was no such town anywhere in the isles, and probably no port city with such a name. If such a town did exist, then it wasn't in the Alderami Isles or immediately on the coast anywhere.

Things began to look up when a small task almost coincidentally fell in her lap. Arterim made an off hand comment about how he had to find someone to oversee the Exador's new cargo's delivery - an uninspired job at best - and it occurred to Afy it might be just what she was looking for.

"I'll do it," she said with a measure of nonchalance.

"Really? You want to travel all that way just to deliver invoices and letters? It's nearly 1,500 miles by sea. That's just over two pholars on a ship like the Exador, considering it'll be hugging the coast to avoid icebergs."

"I don't mind. Twenty days or so is not that long. It'll give me a chance to look around and see more of the world. Besides, I'm used to delivering messages. And, after all, I'm praying it will serve Him," she finished, glancing heavenwards.

She had earlier confided in Arterim, seeing how he also worshiped Corellon Larethian, as did most elves. And he concurred with her thinking, however it might be true, that somehow the Exador was important to her vision. It might be vital, or it might be inconsequential, but all the signs were there that is was something. At the very least, it might be a ride to where she needed to be. Unfortunately, the Tarren Kingdom - where the cargo of lumber and other goods was bound, in no way hinted at a place called Wrath as far as any of Arterim's charts could tell.

'When in doubt, once you get closer to where you think you ought to be, just ask,' she recalled the sound advice of one of her instructors. Once she got to where the Exador was going, she would see what she would see.

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The repairs went quickly and smoothly. The cargo was loaded just as fast, many of the town's folk happy at the unexpected work and a little extra income to tide them over the brutal winter.

Rumors flew about the ship with the speed of the wind that blew across her decks. Corellon Larethian himself had saved them. If it weren't true, would one of His own be riding aboard her? Of course not. The men seemed happy and confident, and this despite being pressed into longer service than expected. For most of them, home was once again months away instead of days.

Afyanna wasn't sure what to make of it all when she noticed the unprecedented level of respect beaming in her direction from every crewmember as they passed her by. Skylarking was something she had taken up, despite the cold, since it afforded a sense of privacy, and the deck air, unlike the air below decks, was less suffocating. The smells were almost at times 'poisonous,' and this somewhat shocked her. Strangely her father had never mentioned this little fact about life at sea. She wondered why.

The papers tucked safely in her pack, she toyed with the 10 new gold coins Arterim felt obliged to give her for this 'unworthy' task, as he kept calling it. Afyanna suspected the pay was normally half that much, but Arterim had doubled it - sort of like a donation to Corellon Larethian. It would have been rude to refuse it, so she planned on using it well - that at least.

Each gold piece was shinny and new. On the back, a full standing image of Philepe Montrose was pressed into the metal. Alodarian Imperial coins were used world wide, she knew, and the current emperor's standing image was always on the back of the gold piece. Under this emperor, the front bore the image of Alodar's Harbor, with the lighthouse, Nimbus Reach, prominently central to the scene. It was a pretty coin, just over half an inch wide and taking 100 of them to weigh one pound. Afy was always amazed a stack of 10 coins only half an inch high could be worth so much. She put them away fearing for their safety and instead lost herself in thoughts about what might lay ahead.

*What does he want of me?* she kept asking, but no more disembodied voices replied.

- JimGM.