PBEM Orlantia

The Story So Far
Chapter 013

PBEM Orlantia: Getting Into The Hole

Most seemed to agree that it was at least worth a try to lower Bopper into the hole, so they set to work. Everybody wanted this finished as fast as possible so they could get out of the wind and drizzle.

First they relieved Bopper of his burden, lowering the items one by one into the hole where they were stored away by Jahar and Bebe. The extreme cold had made fingers numb, so it wasn't always easy to maneuver things and tie them securely to the rope, but they managed.

Then came the difficult part of figuring out just how to fasten the ropes to Bopper's harness so they would be able to lower him safely down. It was decided to use the tree as some kind of pulley. Alana was pleased to notice that some of her new companions had more knowledge of knots, ropes, and how to fasten them better than she had. That had been the part that had most concerned her.

What if a knot was not tied correctly? What if the ropes didn't hold?

But Jahar and Cosher had experience in these things, it appeared. Someone called down to Jahar to come up again. Alana thought it was Afyanna, but she could have been mistaken. She was already concentrating on bonding with the mule, speaking to it in a low, reassuring voice. The words did not matter so much, she knew, as long as she succeeded in gaining the animal's trust. She used her blanket to cover Bopper's eyes so he wouldn't be frightened by his descent into the dark hole. Bebe would stay down; she would take over Alana's role once Bopper started to reach the bottom of the hole.

When the ropes were all secured on the mule's harness, the group started to pull. Using all their assets to their full advantage, even the magical mounts were included in the task of safely lowering the mule down. The ropes started to pull taut, and suddenly Bopper's hooves were loose from the ground. For a moment Alana thought the animal was going to panic, but she had done her job well and the animal calmed down again. Now they carefully maneuvered the mule over the hole and started to lower him down.

*This is going to work,* Alana thought. *This is a good group of people. I am glad I met them.*

- Wilma (Alana)

PBEM Orlantia: Seeking Warmth

The news from Jahar sounded good. They had found a safe retreat from the worst of the storm, and Sefarlain found himself thanking Corellon for his kindness for the second time that winter. He was beginning to think a quick prayer to the winter gods might not go amiss, either.

The main challenge seemed to be Bopper. Everyone was in agreement that all should be done to try and save him, and so a plan was quickly drawn up. Sef could see the sky darkening around them and the prospect of being exposed through the night was not an appealing one.

Each person seemed to have their allotted task. As for Sefarlain, he used his weapons to smooth away some of the bark around the tree trunk, forming a wide, shallow groove, and then covered this with water and snow that quickly froze in the conditions. This guided the rope that Cosher and Jahar passed from Bopper. The harness they had constructed looked very complex to the ranger's limited knowledge of rope work, but he trusted it would do its job.

As Alana calmed Bopper and covered his eyes, he was led towards the edge. Cosher carried the tent poles that had been lashed into a pyramidal frame and handed them to Valin. He arranged the frame into the holes he had scraped in the floor and looped the rope over this. Cosher had explained the need to keep Bopper away from the walls of the hole, similar to the way they moved provisions onto the ships. Sefarlain hoped the frame would hold.

Mystir attached the end of the rope to his magical mounts. They moved forward slowly and Bopper gradually rose into the air. The frame creaked and groaned but seemed to hold. It was leaned forward to move Bopper over the edge, and then Mystir gently lowered Bopper from everyone's view.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Away From the Walls

Tyrulf watched Jahar deftly tie the ropes into a harness.

*I am glad he is here. There is no way I could tie something like that. I wonder if it is going to cut into Bopper's underside.*

Tyrulf walked up to Jahar and said: "JAHAR, PERHAPS WE COULD USE THE PAVILION TENT CANVASS BETWEEN THE HARNESS AND BOPPER. THE WEIGHT WOULD BE BETTER DISTRIBUTED SO THE ROPE WON'T CUT INTO HIS UNDERSIDE."

Jahar seemed to like this idea and put the material in-between to protect Bopper. Meanwhile Cosher had set up some kind of frame to keep Bopper from hitting the sides of the sinkhole.

*It doesn't look like the frame will be able to take that much pressure. I can't see the tent putting that much force on them.* Tyrulf looked around for more rope.

Tapping Cosher's shoulder, Tyrulf pointed at the tree and said: "COSHER, PERHAPS IF WE ATTACH A ROPE TO THE HARNESS AND PULL FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SINKHOLE. I THINK IT WOULD TAKE SOME PRESSURE OFF YOUR FRAME. IT WOULD PROBABLY ONLY TAKE TWO OF US TO PULL THE ROPE SINCE WE ONLY HAVE TO PULL SIDEWAYS AND NOT UP. I THINK THE MAGICAL HORSES CAN TAKE MOST OF THE LOAD THEMSELVES. WHAT DO YOU THINK?"

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: Cozy Interlude.

The hard part was over. Stubborn as Bopper was, once Alana covered his eyes and soothed him with her druidical ways, the rest were able to manage him.

Securing him with rope and canvas, their makeshift system wrestled the mule down the hole, though a few had to strain seldom used muscles when unexpected but immediate force was required at odd angles to prevent the beast from falling to his death. But they had managed it. Bopper was safely down. Getting him back up later might be another story. By comparison, Brambles had been a piece of cake. She was eager to join her mistress, after all, and happily accepted the help she was offered to be by Bebe's side.

Under Afyanna's supervision, their equipment lowered down, one by one the party members slid down the silken cord into the murky firelight. Tyrulf's Light spell had long since faded, but knowing that would happen ahead of time, Jahar had built a small fire in the back of the tunnel. Its chaotic illumination licked the earthen walls revealing a sandstone formation underneath the grass-covered darker soils above.

Meanwhile, Mystir pondered the mysteries of his summoned mounts. Without their aid, they may well have died. He wondered where they came from, or how real they were. Hearche Drogath, his mentor, always claimed they were magical constructs patterned upon some universal archetype - an arcane concept, but they were using arcane magic, so that made sense. Thus, he felt they weren't summoned from elsewhere so much as constructed, though its spirit may have been summoned, he had to admit. It was hard to say. Even the sages wise in arcane lore hotly debated the issue. No matter.

Concentrating, Mystir let slip the hold he maintained upon his mounts and felt them both vanish, one by one, though he couldn't see them. Theoretically, they returned from whence they came, but where that was, or what form they had been in immediately prior to the summoning, was up for grabs. Alas, such things often didn't matter to the practitioner of magic. It worked, and that was enough. But Hearche has always told him:

'Learn WHY things work, and you'll go further than those who don't - those mere practitioners,' he had scoffed at the last, like it was a dirty word.

With the mounts gone, the wizard took a drink to slake his thirst before venturing deeper into the tunnel.

Water. It could do so much.

Tyrulf felt secure in surroundings quite familiar to him, and though Cosher's people now lived upon the waters, making their living as sailors, his ancestry was not so dim that he no longer appreciated the Underdark, its myriad chambers and cavernous expanses, most of which were hewn out of the living rock by soft, sweet, water. Water was life. And now, because of water's funny ways, it had provided this sinkhole and tunnel that once again offered them a chance at life.

Water. It could do so much.

Over the years many branches had fallen into the sinkhole - along with other things - most notably, the skeletal remains of a doe proved that. It had unfortunately found the sinkhole the hard way. Jahar ignored the remnants of animal life and used the dry branches to make the fire, choosing instead to concentrate upon the here and now.

Sefarlain propped the A-frame construct of the pavilion poles up in the tunnel's opening, draping the canvas over the mast-like staves they had lashed together in threes for added strength. It blocked out 90% of the sinkhole's maw at the tunnel's opening, cutting them off from the outside world.

The smoke from the fire found the sandstone ceiling and crawled along it like a snake, slithering its way upwards and outwards, passing the cracks in the canvas barrier as if it were not there.

Assured ventilation would not be a problem, several people threw more dry branches on the fire all at once, heaping it up until it blazed halfway up to the ceiling. They had been freezing, after all, so it was understandable. They'd run out of fuel before morning at that rate, but they wouldn't keep it stoked at that level. Later on, if they went easy, they'd use less timber and have enough to burn until the morning.

It was not long before the tunnel was warm, even hot - even too hot if you stood too close to the fire. Eager fingers and hands stretched out toward the fire, absorbing warmth, embracing it like a lost lover recently returned.

Brambles curled up near Bebe's side, the gnome stroking her companion's fur and scratching her ears - an activity that brought pleasure to them both. Bopper stood apart from the rest, probably wondering why he hadn't been fed in a while. He politely didn't demand better treatment - yet. Like them, he was happy to be out of the cold.

Lucian, their savior in all this, had found a neat, comfortable crag of rock about three-quarters the way up the rocky wall. In a single and impressive leap, he deftly and silently achieved the purchase, berthing himself where he kept careful watch over the new comers - a suspicious lot, after all, but they had the right friend. If Alana liked them, they were probably OK, but he'd reserve judgment for a while, as long as they behaved.

Valin watched the funny cat, admiring it, and silently wondered if the hand of Hermes had guided the creature. He would probably never know, but that didn't dissuade him from offering up a silent prayer of thanks, all the same. Better safe than sorry.

And, now safe in the tunnel, warmed by a good fire, with animals and gear and equipment surrounding them, they all realized how tired they were. Exhausted, actually. Morning would come soon enough, so they each, in turn, found a place to lay out their bedroll and stretch out amid their fellows.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Down in the Dark

Once the fire was blazing and the interior of their shelter was warm, Jahar decided to dry off his clothing. Even if they were out of the storm, it was still a bad idea to stay, or sleep in wet clothing.

After a short search, he pulled a pair of his daggers out and chinked them into the earthen walls before producing a measure of thin rope from his pack and tying it to the handles of his daggers, making a clothesline.

As deftly as he could, he passed his other daggers down into his pack and began to change clothes, away from the fire. It was cold, but most of his clothing inside the pack was relatively dry. The rest of his clothes, he hung on the line to let dry.

For the first time, the sinuous black dragon could be seen climbing his left arm, and the vivid red bird seemingly hung down his right arm. Finally dry, he sat back down close to the fire.

"If I had any talent, I would sing a song or play an instrument. Since my singing offends even seagulls, and I have no instrument, perhaps I could tell you a tale?" Jahar asked.

If they wanted him to tell a story, he would, and if not, he would chew on some of the cheese and hard bread in his pack instead.

- Jared (Jahar)

PBEM Orlantia: Cool Kitty

Tyrulf looked around the cave at all the people in the group. At that moment, Lucian - the group's catlike savior - made an impressive leap into a crevice on the wall.

*I am certainly glad we met up with Alana. No telling what would have happened to us.*

Some of the group appeared to have frostbite on their hands and face. The warmth of the fire seemed to be rejuvenating most of them, but Tyrulf could see that some had been affected more so than himself. Standing up, Tyrulf addressed the group.

"I, for one, would like to thank Alana and her friend for traveling with us. Earlier, Afyanna had suggested that we get to know each other's abilities. I didn't get a chance to let you know that I have some knowledge in the healing arts, both divine and mundane. I also have some knowledge of the underground ways as I am sure Cosher does. I have been taught how to use several weapons, but the battleax is the one I mainly use. Boccob has granted me the use of divine and arcane spells, which are at your disposal. If you will let me, I would like to tend to any of your weather related injuries with the aforementioned skills," he said, quite formally.

With that, Tyrulf proceeded to look after Afyanna's injuries first, seeing as how she was the leader, after all. After she was taken care of, he moved around to the other members of the group, including Alana.

"Hello Alana. I never formally introduce myself, earlier. My name is Tyrulf Malgrim Tellsomro, Cleric of the Mystical God of Magic, Boccob. I am very pleased to meet you and your friend, Lucian."

Tyrulf continued around the cave using his spells to heal those who needed it, saving one of the minor ones for himself. Meanwhile, Jahar had made a makeshift clothesline, and after he finished changing into some dry clothes, he offered to tell a tale.

Tyrulf immediately piped up.

"I, for one, would love to hear a story. Perhaps after your story we could persuade someone with a good voice to entertain us with a song or two, as well. I mean, if there is someone with a good voice around."

Tyrulf couldn't help smiling while he said the last part as he shot Cosher a look. Sitting down and taking out a piece of dried meat from his pack, he looked at Jahar, who was just about to start his story.

- MJA (Tyrulf)

Orlantia PBEM: Settling In

Bebe snuggled into Bramble's thick winter coat while her feet stretched towards the fire. The wolf had drifted off into slumber while Bebe rubbed the canine's belly while Brambles seemed to be happily dreaming of rabbits.

Valin asked Bebe where the wolf had come from, and she related the story.

"In a winter some time ago, I was returning home late one night from a small halfelven community on the coast of Ariel in the Alderami Isles. It was late and very cold. I was about halfway home when I became very paranoid. I felt as if I was being stalked. I quickly backtracked to find what was following me and I came face to face with a poor, bedraggled, half-starved wolf. We were both startled by the meeting and apprehensive of one another's motives. It was not often that one ran across a lone wolf in the forests on Ariel. A gnome had to be careful or they could end up as a snack. That was how I found Brambles, or perhaps the she-wolf found me - only Ehlonna knew for sure. Soon we became close and loyal companions. I have often wondered about that chance meeting, but I have never regretted it."

Bebe started to chuckle, "You should have seen the look on my good mother's face when I walked into the family burrow and asked if I could keep her. As you can imagine, the following discussion was quite livid and I ended up with extra chores for a year, but it was worth it."

While Bebe was talking, she rose and went over to take a closer look at the various bones lying around the bottom of the sinkhole, just outside their cozy little den. She took inventory of them and selected a few that had potential. Actually, Bebe kind of liked the little place. It had great potential for a nice, cozy home. It could be made serviceable in short order, was natural, and could be easily hidden from the outside world.

*I will have to remember this place,* she thought, *just in case I ever come through here again.* Bebe cast a measuring eye around her surroundings looking at all the small nooks and crannies. *This is certainly one of the most comfortable places I have stayed in for quite some time. I wonder if other gnomes live in the vicinity?* she asked herself.

Bebe removed her dagger and quickly carved out a small bowl from the doe's skull. She took the other bones she had collected and made a small stand to hold the bowl. Soon, Bebe had water warming by the fire that could be used to dip their finger in to alleviate any frostbite. She then went to her pack, removed the bottle of Dionysus' wine she had been saving, and passed it around to everyone.

*Ahh,* thought Bebe, *I bet a good slug of this passed around the party will stave off the last lingering effects of frostbite. Then I will use the warm water to wash up.*

Bebe skipped over to Cosher with the last bone she collected and asked, "I was wondering if you could help me carve a whistle so I can call Brambles when I need her? I heard earlier you were a bard and had the lore of such things."

- Shelly (Bebe)

PBEM Orlantia: A Real Treasure

Inside the cave-like tunnel, finally feeling warm again, Alana looked proudly at Lucian perched high above everyone. He had done real well that day and he probably had saved their lives. So she decided her spell of Cure Minor Wounds would go to him - he deserved it.

She called him down to her showering him in praise.

"You are a real treasure, and handsome as well - a real prince. Come, let me make you feel better," she said, her hands stroked his silken fur.

"Did you see one of our new companions is a wolf?" Alana continued her conversation with him. "Her name is Brambles and she is a very nice wolf. I know you have certain prejudices, but I'm sure you won't let those stand in the way of a new friendship, now would you?"

She was a bit apprehensive about his reaction to the wolf, but then again, maybe they would get along just fine. Who could fathom a cat, and especially one as special as Lucian?

The cold had not left her totally unaffected, so she gladly accepted Tyrulf's offer of healing.
Now they were settled in the tunnel, she could feel the need of her body to rest and recuperate, but someone mentioned a story and the lure of that was enough to make her stay awake a while longer. She was curious about these people she had just so recently met, but she decided to wait until the next day to really come to know them.

-Wilma (Alana)

PBEM Orlantia: Time to Rest

With the animals and gear safely lowered into the subterranean shelter, Afyanna surveyed their surroundings. She took the opportunity to make a search of the walls and floor of the small cavern. She discovered nothing of course, but she did like to keep in practice.

Truth be told, it was quite rare to find a secret doorway. Many adventurers' tales were filled with the discovery of secret passages leading to rooms heaped with treasure. The stories conveniently left out the mind-numbing hours of searches that yielded nothing. Still, practice kept her skills at their peak.

Once the others had the canvas barrier set up and the fire was increased to a medium sized bonfire, Afy finally relaxed. She stripped off her mail armor, heavy winter clothing, and boots, and then set them near enough to the fire to dry out, but in no danger of a stray ember or getting too hot. Clad in a light shirt and pants, she still kept her sword belted at her side.

*So much like Sir Eric,* she chuckled to herself.

Afyanna went over to Bopper who was tied loosely near the back of the cave away from the blaze. Bopper didn't like the fire too much, but he seemed content to bask in its warmth. The gear and harness had been removed, of course, and Bopper stood thinking about whatever mules think about when they are warm, fed, and unburdened.

Bopper had been through as much of an ordeal as the rest of them, and Afyanna took the time to brush him out the best she could. Without a brush, all she could use was an old cloth, but it seemed important to show some appreciation to the hearty animal that carried more of their supplies than the rest of them combined. Bopper stood silently while she brushed him out and whispered soothing words to him.

*Always take care of your mount,* Lt. Deit'la had told her, *and it will take care of you.*

Though not a mount in the traditional sense of the word, Afyanna still wanted to do her part to take care of him.

Some time later when she was done with the mule, she made her way across their camp toward the fire. As she neared Brambles, with Bebe curled up in her fur, the wolf gave her a curious sort of look. Without thinking, Afyanna reached down and scratched the fur on her head and continued on. Already they were getting used to a wolf in the party.

Afyanna picked a spot on the other side of the fire by her gear and sat down. She took out her whetstone and set to work cleaning her sword. She hadn't done much more than take it out of its scabbard - and that was when they met Alana - but it was habit, and it was a good one. With all the snow and sleet that had gotten blown around, she wanted to ensure that her sword stayed clean and dry.

"It's doubtful that anyone could approach us here," said the holy warrior while rhythmically sliding the stone across the sword's edge. The few who were still awake looked in her direction as she spoke. "But we should get into the habit of setting a watch." Afyanna glanced up from her work and saw the others nodding. "I'll take the first watch tonight, while you all get some sleep. Who wants to be next?"

Cosher piped up from where he had been working at carving something, "Ah'm used tae standing watches meself, so Ah'll go after ye."

Afyanna smiled and nodded to Cosher. "Wonderful! I'll leave it to you to figure out who is third."

Rocking the sword back and forth to watch how the firelight reflected off its surface, Afyanna buffed the blade with a soft cloth to remove any moisture and grit left over from the stone. Satisfied, she put her supplies away and slid the sword back into its scabbard.

Afyanna sat back against the wall of the cave and watched the others for a moment. Cosher was busy carving something for . . . Bebe, she thought. Jahar was telling a story, and Tyrulf moved from person to person, healing them.

*We are starting to come together as a group,* she realized.

They were becoming more and more of one mind, and less a party of individuals sharing the same path. True, there was more ahead of them then behind in this regard, but it was a beginning. Thinking again of the stories the adventurers told of their exploits, something gelled - something that had been lurking at the back of her mind, and only now that she was able to relax did it finally rise to her conscious.

*Treasure.*

"There is something I just realized and I want to run it past you all. Well, at least those awake for now." Afyanna smiled at the happily snoozing gnome with her wolf.

"I've heard many a tale about how treasure can rip a group apart. And I think we are becoming a true group."

At the mention of treasure, those who were only paying half attention turned their full attention to the Kin-der.

'Kin-der' was a more proper term for 'halfelf,' more often used by elves than humans. Humans called them halfelves almost without fail. Halfelves called themselves either - depending on what they had grown up with.

"We haven't had any reason to worry about this yet, and in all honesty who knows if we will need to later?" Afy said. "But like a former leader of mine once said: 'It's good to be prepared.'"

Strangely illuminated faces nodded to her around the fire. "Wise words," said Jahar.

"What is it you are thinking?" Sefarlain asked her.

"What I am thinking is to do something that I've heard other adventurers do. Seems to work out pretty fair." She paused a minute, letting it sink in that this wasn't her invention, but one that she had picked up from elsewhere. "In the case of standard type loot, coins, gems, and the like, we divide it evenly of course, but the number of shares is one more than we have. So in the case of the nine of us, we divide it into ten shares."

"Why ten?" asked Alana.

"The tenth share is used to pay for party expenses - things like food, lodging, feed for the mule, and so forth."

"What do we do about the more valuable items?" Valin asked.

"Hmmm. Good point." Afyanna thought a moment. "Well, we could decide as a party who gets it from among all those who may want it." She paused. "I'm actually not too sure what to do about that right now. I don't recall how that was handled."

Afyanna's face screwed itself up into a quizzical expression, and she found herself chewing her lip again. "No matter how it's decided, that person should 'pay' for the item from their share back into the pot to be distributed among the rest. That way everyone gets an equal share - just some part of it is in coins or gems, but some of it is in items."

Afyanna could see the expressions on their faces as they considered her words.

"Let me just add that I am not saying we should do this. All I am saying is that it's good to get this kind of thing out of the way ahead of time. How we do it is completely up to us all as a group."

She paused and looked up. She could still hear the wind howling overhead.

"By the sound of things, we may be here a day or two, so it's not like we need to decide right away. Let's think it over for a bit and then we'll all talk about it. Sound good?" Murmured voices of assent greeted her question.

The group returned to what they had been doing before she interrupted them, and Afyanna could hear bits and pieces of conversations as they still chatted about what she had said. It was an important topic - one that could spell disaster if it was not handled before something valuable was found. But if handled ahead of time, the risk of someone feeling frustrated or cheated would be minimized.

Alone with her thoughts once more, Afyanna had one final task to perform before taking her duty on watch. She took a soft cloth, a small wooden bowl, and a candle from her pack and set them on a flat area on the ground. She retrieved a burning twig from the fire just long enough to light the candle, then tossed it back into the blazing pyre. She then filled the small bowl with water from her waterskin.

Afyanna knelt before the makeshift altar and reached up to her neck to fish her necklace from beneath her shirt. The crescent moon of Corellon Larethian dangled freely at the end of its chain. She then removed her sword from its scabbard once again, and laid it before the 'altar.'

The holy warrior then placed one finger just into the water and uttered a few words in Alderami to cast a Purify Water spell. She felt the tingle of her god's power as the water was changed. Afyanna removed the necklace from her neck and dipped the amulet into the bowl.

The holy warrior then took the amulet between her thumb and forefinger of both hands and pressed it to her forehead. She silently mouthed the words of her prayer to Corellon Larethian, thanking Him for guiding her and the others to the safety of the cave, and for keeping them from harm thus far. She asked Him for His continued guidance during the times ahead.

Afyanna replaced the wet amulet about her neck and reached for her sword. The holy warrior lightly lifted it using the fingers and thumb under the end of the blade and the pommel. Uttering a prayer rededicating herself to the might and power of Corellon Larethian, she passed the blade back and forth through the fire of the candle and turned it over to repeat the process. The candle was not hot enough to do any damage whatsoever, of course, but it symbolized the spirit and fire of war and destruction to which she and her sword were pledged as His servant.

Afyanna then poured the purified water over both sides of the blade in a slow trickle. This symbolized the flow of His will, the purity of the innocent, and the healing powers that He bestowed upon her.

The Holy Warrior of Corellon Larethian finished her prayer and rededication and then extinguished the candle with her moistened fingers. She took the cloth and dried her sword thoroughly before replacing it in the scabbard. She then dried the bowl, ensured the candlewick had been thoroughly extinguished, and returned all of it to her pack.

One by one, the rest of the party was drifting off or had already gone to sleep. Afyanna took up a comfortable position away from the fire and sat down for first watch.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: It's getting late

As he sat leaning against the rough stonewall, Cosher turned the piece of bone over in his dexterous fingers, appraising its suitability as a musical instrument. The tin whistle in fact was his own instrument of choice, and although he had never actually carved a piece of bone before, he soon concluded that he could probably make quite a good effort at making this piece produce a sweet sound.

"Well Bebe," he began looking up at the gnome with a sly grin on his face, "Ah reckon Ah could probably do somethin' with this here bone. Ah do believe ye've picked oot a fine sample - in fact, Ah'm no bard worth anything if Ah cannae make ye the finest bone whistle this side o' Fecklar!"

Cosher threw Bebe a friendly wink as he reached for one of his laibh and began inspecting its point for sharpness. He frowned momentarily at the thought of blunting the blade on the bone, but after a few seconds simply gave a shrug.

"Ah, tae hell with it," he laughed. "Ah've plenty o' these blades where this yin came frae, an' if Cosher cannae dae a favor fer me wee friend here, then Ah don't know!"

Eventually, work on his 'masterwork' began, but Cosher had not forgotten Tyrulf's request from earlier. As he carved away, a tune came into his head and without thinking he had begun to hum rather softly.

Bebe glanced up, catching Cosher's attention.

"Ah, the tune? It helps while Ah work here. Tell ye what. Since it's getting a wee bit late, an' we all look as if we're almost asleep, Ah'll maybe hum ye all a wee tune. What d'ye say? Not a song, dinnae worry, but while Ah do a bit o' work fer Bebe here, Ah could hum a tune quite easily - it might even help a few of ye get off tae sleep. Ah know this lullaby . . ."

Looking around at the tired smiles of agreement from his weary companions, Cosher settled back against the wall, picking up where he left of with the bone carving.

Softly he began to hum, recalling an old elvish lullaby he hadn't used in a while. It was a beautiful tune, and the young sea dwarf infused his own pitch-perfect baritone with a little of his bardic magic to soothe the nerves and minds of those around him still awake to listen.

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia: Reverie.

As the flames from the fire died down to a soft flicker, each individual found a comfortable spot to rest. Afyanna alone remained awake, resting by the fire on one of the larger branches in the cave.

For Sefarlain, sleep was not really an accurate description of what he needed, but then men rarely understood the true nature of elvish recuperation. Some called it a 'trance,' which given the limitations of Thari, was close enough. Whatever term was used, Sefarlain quickly allowed his mind to drift and soon was quite motionless. It had been a very long day.

As his mind returned and he half opened an eye, the watch had shifted and Cosher was now awake. After a few words, the dwarf was dispatched to his bed with little complaint and Sefarlain saw out the few remaining hours until daylight.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Icy Wonder

Perhaps contrary to most of their expectations, the band of adventurers spent a reasonably comfortable night in the sinkhole tunnel they had found at dusk.

Ancient timbers - who knows how long they had lain down there - were dry, brittle, easily broken into handy sizes, and made excellent fuel throughout the night. The smoke from the fire naturally followed an upward path along the ceiling and then out of the tunnel, so there had been no difficulty breathing while nestled deep within ground's haven and within the fire's glowing embrace.

Yet even from the vantage of that secured camp, in spite of the canvas stretched across the A-frame blocking the tunnel's entrance, as the shadow of Orlantia fell away and Gimarian greeted the darkened land anew, the sun's illumination reached their eyes - yes, even there, so far below, it shone

It woke the famished party members, so they quickly breakfasted, anxious to see what the night had wrought. Pointless to remain below after night's passing, naturally they ventured forth to greet the new day's rays and welcome whatever problematic discoveries might await.

First, thick ice coated the walls of the sinkhole, and though their still-secured lifelines of corded rope were similarly encased, the clear ice easily broke away from their vines of hemp and silk with a whipping shake or three. Despite the ease of that, climbing proved to be extraordinarily difficult when no bare patch of wall remained near the top to lend hold for boot or shoe, and more and more, only upper body strength sufficed to pull them upwards towards day's light.

Jahar was the first to emerge into the eerie stillness of a landscape that only the night before had been whipped with gale force winds driving the snow and sleet before it, making such a din one had to shout to be heard by another only a few feet away. Now, however, it was deathly quiet, even the grinning sun made no noise as it beat down upon the ice-covered land. And the sun already approached noon. They had slept considerably longer than they had planned, their tired bodies knowing better than they what was truly needed.

One-by-one, the climbed the rope, taking their time, making sure no careless mistakes were made. They had the luxury of time, after all, and with no pressure upon them, could afford to take it easy. Hours passed as they hauled each other up along with the equipment they had to carefully repack.

As expected, Bopper was a problem, and Mystir had to cast his Mount spell early. It was the last thing they did, though, so he'd have time to ride his mount part of the day yet, but they needed the strong animal right away to lift the mule out of the sinkhole and raise it the 65 feet to the surface above.

But in the end, well warmed from the invigorating multi-hour ordeal, and through the grace of each other's help, all emerged from night's purchase to see what lay before them.

And it was, without a doubt - in a word - breathtaking.

Sun shinning, visibility restored, they were surprised to see things only yards away they had missed earlier in the blizzard. Trees - lots of trees, just a few hundred yards ahead to the southwest. They resumed their trek following their old heading. And what they saw inspired - well - awe.

Before them, on every twig, on every small branch, on every needle, on every trunk, on every tree, crag, or crevice, the ice gleamed in the brilliant sunlight. A quarter inch or more of crystal clear ice coated every surface - the sheer weight of which had been more than many boughs could bear. Some were snapped clean off, while others merely part way, still hanging there precariously - past ready to rest upon the good ground below, waiting, simply waiting, for one final urge to allow gravity to set them free and send them homeward.

It was a field of crystal brilliance, no matter where you turned, no matter which direction you looked. Natural prisms splashed light's colors in myriad directions upon the clean white backdrop of pure, unmarred snow. And the noon sun bore down on it all, warming it, melting it already, turning prisms of ice to even more impressive water coated icy wonders of glorious grandeur and majesty, the likes of which Nature rarely shared with mortal kin.

Bowing boughs smiled Nature's greetings with glittering teeth, despite their groans from the weight heaped upon their backs that threatened to beak them. Stooped low, as if afraid to gaze upon the golden orb above, the trees glowed in the hot sun, willing subjects to its awesome power.

The sun was hot, indeed, for despite everything - notwithstanding the blizzard of last night, the driving sleet, the biting cold - now Gimarian beat down without mercy, slapping back the winter, cursing it for intruding upon the coming spring like an unwanted guest. The message was clear. Winter was over.

Then the chimes began. Not quite bell-like, but gentle tinkles of silver music when the day's warm blessings caused the ice above to fall below to waiting, colder ice. First one piece convinced several, then several convinced dozens, then dozens convinced hundreds to shower down in a cascading chain reaction of frenzy accompanied by the tinkling of crystalline and ethereal sounds. To the right - there - seconds passed as they marched on - to the rear - there - more time and a few more steps before - to the left - there, once again, another cascade came crashing downwards in a random display of whimsical sounds.

If one were standing in the wrong spot under an ice laden tree - just when the uppermost icicles, thoroughly convinced by the sun's surprising warmth, decided to loosen their hold - it, and its following brethren, would crash downward upon the unfortunate soul below, perhaps doing considerable harm amid the beatific display. Of course, all soon concluded walking under trees wasn't so wise just then, so they tended to avoid doing so. Even Brambles and Lucian hugged the trail instead of their normal activity of traveling between the trees, usually flanking the party.

The weeping willow was a sight to behold when they found it while they made their way along their coarse toward Hooktar. For whatever reason - shaded locale, most likely - even way past noon it had not yet surrendered its icy coating. Each willowy branch hung like long, freshly washed silver and gold hair, normally full and voluminous, but now pulled inward under the icy load. Even with its pulled in appearance, those strands were exceptional in the afternoon sunlight that was just then reaching them, like a solid wall of silver and gold tinsel, they flowed and sparkled and dazzled those who beheld their rare display.

But the best - the best by far - were simple hardwood trees that still bore no leaves just then. The fractal patterns of seemingly dead branches spreading out, splitting off into pairs, each branch randomly splitting again and again, turning in directions new, splitting again and growing further, ever further upwards, until reaching canopy's summit, all were normally quite lovely by themselves. But now, encased in their new scintillating and dazzling cocoons of clear ice fully backlit by the sun's radiance, each branch radiated its own shimmering light anew, outwards in all directions, and it shone like brilliant diamonds of sparkling fire even under the competing sun's ever-present rays. Every twig, without exception, seemed to hold the luminescence of its own radiant soul, its own divine spark. It was a forest of sparkling life.

Breathtaking. Yes, that would be the word. None who saw it would ever forget it.

And as dusk approached once more, they were still short of Hooktar by hours - for the slower pace upon the ice, coupled with a late start, not to mention the way they stopped every few hundred yards to take a few minutes to admire Nature's glory, all made it so. But the ice that brought wonder, by then, was almost fully gone, having melted or fallen away, and the regal, panoramic scene would soon and finally be naught but a memory.

And so after Her graceful prostration to mortal onlookers, the weight of ice now gone, Nature arose from its majestic bows and curtsies to once again proudly stand before them while the great shadow of Orlantia approached once more.

Tired, having felt they had gone far enough, Afyanna called for a halt.

"We'll set up the pavilion here," she said.

And so they did. And before Gimarian finally disappeared below the horizon, the tent had been set, the fire built inside - for it was that large a tent - and a meal was begun.

All told, it was a day they would never forget.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Nature's Glory.

The day's journey had been almost a religious experience for Sefarlain, and from a few shared moments with Alana and Bebe, he knew he was not alone in how he felt. The glory of nature was hard to ignore when she chose to reveal herself in such a dramatic way. He found Her beauty difficult to adequately describe as notable bards could do, but from the light in his eyes, his true feelings were clear.

It was with an air of sadness that camp was set that night. The ranger tried to imprint the images he had seen that day into his mind so that they would last longer than the fragile icicles that surrounded them. But slowly his mind turned to more mundane tasks, and he set himself down to clean and sharpen his weapons for the days ahead. Old habits did indeed die hard.

The evening's talk began with the glorious sights they had all witnessed. Slowly, however, the conversation shifted towards the days ahead, and some notion of preparing for future events rose before them. Afyanna's idea regarding any wealth they might find occupied a considerable portion of this talk.

"I still think we should discuss this before the occasion arises," she said between mouthfuls of trail biscuit. "Otherwise we may all repent at our leisure. The last thing we should be fighting is each other. My only concern is how we judge the worth of any unusual or valuable items that Corellon may lay in our path," she finished.

Sefarlain pondered this for a moment. Magical items? How could you buy those? Any elf worth his salt knew countless tales of heroic deeds wrought with fabulous weapons of ancient manufacture, but they were a little hard to come by in Tugath. He knew of no one who had even owned a charmed blade, although after Sir Eric's demonstration, he had at least seen one. But what were they worth?

"Perhaps we could keep them for the party, at least in the meantime?" the elf suggested.

"We could decide who would be most appropriate to use whatever we find, but it remains the group's property. Then we could sort out what we do with these things after this quest is over."

In reality, Sefarlain doubted that they would need such measures. He could not imagine such power falling into their hands, but he kept these thoughts to himself as he settled down once more.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Which to Choose?

Sitting near the fire in the center of the tent, Mystir looked over the rest of the party. The topic of treasure had once again enveloped them.

*Gold, gems, magic items,* he pondered. *Do they want a part of the treasures that I am seeking? Scales, skin, claws, hair . . . specimens. That's what I am after.*

He nodded as the others continued to debate the topic.

"I agree with the idea of saving a portion of whatever is found for expenses. It makes sense. How much would be the real issue to decide," Mystir finally added. "As for items of magic, that is a tough one to decide. If someone can use it, then I say let them. If more than one can, then let whoever needs it most, or can do the most good with it. If someone feels that things are unfair, then we should address it as a group and decide from there." He paused a moment. "As far as ownership of such items, that's a tough one."

Mystir reached into his pack and immediately produced a book. The location of his books and many other small and sporadic items were etched into the young boy's mind. He laid the book on his lap and began tracing the cover with two fingers. The motion appeared circular to most. Yet Tyrulf gave a smile as he watched the halfelf move his fingers to the symbol of Boccob.

"I don't believe I have properly introduced myself," he added after a moment. "My name is Mystir - Mystir Kintel Cyndular. And as most of you have likely figured, I train in the arts of magic." The boy paused, but continued when the others nodded. "I have trained in both the arcane and the divine aspects. However, my arcane abilities surpass the divine ones."

Opening the familiar book, Mystir began to scan the pages within. One couldn't just read that kind of book. The structures on its pages seemed almost chaotic. Drawings of creatures and shapes littered the parchment within, along with notes - notes in half a dozen languages.

The wizard barely listened as the group continued its discussion; his mind was on more important matters. Until yesterday his choice of spells had always been easy - simply choosing those that made his day a little easier

*Yesterday I was lucky,* he thought to himself. Mount, a spell he used to keep his feet from blistering, could very well have kept the group alive. And they were facing some sort of danger in Wrath. His decisions were becoming harder to make. He pulled out a second book and scanned it as well. *Which to choose?*

Finally picking which spells he would prepare tomorrow, Mystir returned his books to their places.

*I'll keep a Mount spell ready since a horse may help us again.* He also decided to have Magic Missile prepared. They had yet to encounter anything but hard weather, but he felt something was going to happen soon.

Retrieving some dried meat from his pack, Mystir took a bite and turned his attention back to the group.

- Kevin (Mystir)

PBEM Orlantia: Plans Afoot

Sefarlain's eyes widened in admiration and amazement as Mystir leafed through his spellbook. How many spells did this young halfelf know, and at such a young age?

The ranger sighed quietly to himself. His own studies had gone well enough with his uncle, but even Sef had to admit that he had started late - perhaps too late to be a great wizard, but at least he had inherited some of his mother's talent. His uncle had found the similarities unnerving at times.

The elf reached deep into his backpack and pulled out a slim, leather-bound volume. He gently brushed some of the dust from the journey from its cover and then opened the pages. The others could see each leaf covered with a fine, neat hand. Occasional symbols and pictures were spaced throughout the writing.

*Five years of hard study,* mused the elf as he looked at the book. And yet how much further had he come than the book suggested? He recalled when his uncle had tried to explain.

'These may seem like simple tricks to those who know no better, but they require great concentration and knowledge. They will allow you to harness the power of arcane knowledge in a limited way, and they will give you the key to much greater insights. Even the greatest of mages practice these exercises regularly. Do not be so quick to dismiss their worth!'

He smiled at the memory of his uncle's words. So be it! Perhaps amongst these pages lay something of use in the days ahead, but a wizard amongst their midst might give even better advice. The ranger stood up and walked over to Mystir.

"I have only a limited ability compared to your own," he began, "but I would be delighted to hear of your story if you wish to speak of it. I, myself, trained under my uncle. He lives in Peric. I fear I am a little too late to become as learned as he is, but I have progressed well so far. My spellbook is a little thin, however."

He smiled, slightly self-conscious of the small volume in his hands.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Magic Students.

Tyrulf listened to Afyanna and the rest of the group discuss the problem of dividing treasure. Shaking his head, he thought, *I am certainly glad that Afyanna is in charge. I don't think that I would have thought of that before there was already a problem.*

As the night progressed, Tyrulf saw Mystir pull out a book. He traced Boccob's symbol on the front cover and Tyrulf smiled. Obviously, Sef was watching too since he got up carrying a book of his own and sat down near Mystir. He then asked Mystir about his background in magic. Hearing this, Tyrulf got up and moved over as well. Talk of magic drew Tyrulf like bees to a flower.

"Might I join in?" Tyrulf asked of the two men. When they both nodded their consent, Tyrulf sat down beside them. "I would be very interested to discuss things arcane with two fine practitioners of Boccob's domain." Tyrulf paused there for a moment and realized that he had just steered the conversation away from what Sef had asked of Mystir.

*I really have to watch what I say. I get too pushy when it comes to magic.*

Tyrulf continued while looking at Mystir. "I mean, after you have told us about how you came to practice the arcane arts, Mystir, of course."

The conversation continued as Mystir and Sef each told the story of who trained them in magic. Tyrulf then told them of the clerical training in Boccob's name that Melakra had given him over the years.

When the night grew late, Cosher and Valin volunteered to take first watch, so Tyrulf turned over and went to sleep after bidding everyone a good night.

His dreams were a jumbled bunch of images. He saw his foster parents and siblings on one of the day trips they took. The tattoo on his shoulder appeared and he could hear a storm and feel the boat moving violently about.

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: A Softer Heart.

Alana felt truly blessed to be allowed to witness such beauty as they saw after they left their shelter. She was even more pleased that she had people with which to share it.

She was surprised at first when Sefarlain shared some of his feelings with her and Bebe. They hadn't started out very well when he had practically accused her of having something to do with the death of Ben and Harriet. Sef had been very capable when they were seeking shelter, and later when they needed all their wits to lower Bopper down, but she had thought him hard of heart.

But whatever bad feelings she might still have had towards him were gone the moment she saw his reaction to Nature's glory. Anybody who could become so moved by beauty could not truly be as hard and relentless as she had imagined.

*Jumped to the wrong conclusion again, didn't you?* she chided herself. But it felt good to be wrong.

Later in the safety of the tent, Alana exchanged experiences with Bebe. It was nice to talk with a druid again - it had been a long time. Bebe did not belong to her circle, but that didn't matter.

She told some slightly exaggerated stories about Lucian, but only slightly exaggerated. Not much exaggeration was needed, after all. She admired Brambles, being very pleased about getting acquainted with the wolf, though she tried not to be too enthusiastic. Lucian got jealous sometimes.

Alan also told the other members about her journey to Katana, though she didn't mention the reason why she journeyed there is the first place. Alana still felt ashamed of that.

When the subject of treasure came up, Alana felt slightly at a loss. Treasure meant little to her, but she had to admit that money made many things easier in life.

"I think any items of magic should go to whoever is most suited to use it. If more than one claims to be that person, the group should decide," was Alana's contribution to the discussion - which was more or less what others were saying, too. For the rest, she agreed with the proposals being made.

- Wilma (Alana)