PBEM Orlantia

The Story So Far
Chapter 019

PBEM Orlantia: And There They Were.

The party marched along the scouts' previous night's path, following it as they had done, mile by mile in silence. In contrast, thoughts thundered in all their heads.

Were they really adventurers, or were more than a few of them simply playing at it, perhaps too taken with the desire to be a part of contemporary bardic yore? How many of them had ever really been tested? Already, one had fallen, and they weren't even there. How many more might lie down before it was done?

Afyanna's journey had begun with a dream, a vision - well, more of a mental audio experience - over two scepters back. The words still haunted her - as well they should, considering their source. Was she paying close enough attention to the literal word of God? She didn't know. But whatever had stirred her to travel, for whatever reason, had taken her this far. Lingering doubts plagued her, though, as to whether their mere presence would be enough. Somehow, she doubted it.

Forty days and forty nights, and then some, through wintry ice-laden seas atop gale swept decks, frozen harbors, tavern after tavern, costly but wise sages, a mansion and its helpful owner, a deadly ice storm, and mile upon mile of bad, tediously boring road, collecting comrades as she went, and met at every turn with news of a foul creature's carnage. There was a bane upon the land - a curse. Why her?

And out of all the gods above that might look down upon the doings of mortal men, her lord had acted by sending her. Why? Why was her lord the only one given to care? Surely, there were many good gods - most of them, if their clerics were to be believed - so why hadn't they intervened or sent help? And even if Corellon Larethian had special interests in Wrath, were there not better-qualified candidates to send? It gnawed at her.

Thinking back on it, Afyanna felt foolish how some of her concerns had been monetary, remaining debt free and without obligation to others when she started. Such matters were so inconsequential now, given death's ledger on this quest, she felt ashamed of herself for every having been so petty. How was SHE worthy?

And now so many, her traveling companions, her comrades, her friends, were looking to her for answers. She felt . . . inadequate.

The deserted vineyards, dormant now, yet rife with promise, rose up as the party plodded forward toward Joad. In the morning light, they could see the place was vast, fully capable of producing copious amounts of wine - enough to supply several kingdoms. Too bad Fess had thought so little of Wrath's recent offerings.

The farms were deserted, too.

"I'd guess there were a lot of independent families here," Bebe said, looking over the place, "each running its own vineyard. I would have loved to have seen each family's label on their bottles," she finished.

"Where's the statue?" Alana asked, her interest having been fixed on its appearance for some time. She was anxious to see it.

"Up this way," Wyn said, pulling ahead and walking with Sef as they had done before. Soon the cobbles appeared and the town lay before them again, this time the well-used rustic appearance of weatherworn buildings more obvious. Turning the corner again, expecting to see the lone statue and show their cook her desire, something else caught their attention instead. People. There were people milling about the square. Scores of them seemed to be engaged in some sort of debate.

In a perfect world, they would have easily been able to slink close enough and hear what topic so engaged the townsfolk, but the world had serious flaws. The gods had seen to that. That is why, though few people weren't religious at least to some degree, many gods weren't worshipped so much as blamed, and on a regular basis.

And so, almost as if ordained, a lone woman rounded the corner, practically running right into the group of travelers.

"Huuwwaaaahh!" the startled woman gasped, the sudden intake of breath giving her now pounding heart and expanding lungs something to work with, along with the rush of adrenaline adding to her heightened condition. Too bad she froze in place, her hand over her mouth, as if she could take back any noise that might have alerted the strangers to her presence. Too late, though.

If anything, her hormone based increased perception, ironically, would have done little except make her more keenly aware of how she would die, details few people would appreciate filling their last moments on Orlantia. Unfortunately, she had never been trained for combat, so the adrenaline rush was wasted thus, and her fight or flight instincts which might have served better had been dulled with age and city-living. Luckily, however, no monster was currently intent upon her demise, so her wide-eyed, horror struck features remained motionless, rivaling any statue. It was as if she felt if she did not move, the strangers would not see her, despite the fact they were all looking right at her.

A hush fell upon the square as everyone looked in the party's direction, having heard the frightened gasp, and a look of trepidation now shaped their faces amid the growing silence as they, too, simply stared at the newcomers, their mouths agape, too busy uttering nothing to make a noise.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Too Many To Be Deserted

The sight of a 'filled' town square stopped the party in their tracks. Afyanna had considered the possibility of several things greeting her upon entrance to Joad - the nightmare, whomever was orchestrating the affair, desolation, or even something all together different. Townspeople were not on her mental list.

As the realization came to her that she was looking at what appeared to be the citizens of the town, a shape darted around the corner at her. The holy warrior's first instinct was to dodge closer to the wall at her left. Assuming the attacker adhered to the population averages, Afy's sword arm would be free, while her attacker would be confined and forced to maneuver, giving her at least the first opportunity.

Afyanna's hand closed around the sword grip as she reached the wall, but then something new caught her eye. Her 'attacker' appeared to be just another resident who happened to pick the wrong moment to turn a corner. The woman appeared too terrified to do or say much.

"Easy there," Afyanna said, releasing her grip on her weapon. Afy relaxed as well, coming out of the fighting stance she had automatically assumed. "We won't hurt you."

Afy's eyes darted past the terrified woman before her and toward the crowd at the square. The townspeople stood staring at them as if they had never seen visitors before. Everything about the town and the people seemed perfectly normal.

"Well, we did come for answers," Afy said, casting a glance to Sef who was nearby.

Trying to salvage her entry into Joad, Afy strode forward into the town of Joad and toward the gathered people. As she passed the poor unlucky woman, she added, "Sorry about the fright."

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Initial Greetings.

Though Afyanna's words and tone were reassuring, the lingering look on the woman's face did not abate, which suggested to the holy warrior more than being simply startled was the woman's source of trepidation. Cautiously, hugging the wall carefully kept at her back, the woman eased herself away from the party and toward the crowd, her eyes remaining fixed on Afyanna.

*She did not move until I told her we wouldn't hurt her,* thought Afy, *so is she maybe afraid of something else as well?* she asked herself. Afy slowly followed the woman at first, but thinking her too slow, passed her by, more interested in the assembled townsfolk beyond.

Striding forward, she finally came to a halt perhaps four yards from the group, who were, it seemed, composing themselves better than the woman inasmuch as most of their mouths were now closed. Waiting hands of an older man took the woman into his embrace when she reached them.

"There, there, daughter, it'll be all right, shhhhhh, shhhhhh," he told her. She buried her face into his chest and both were soon hidden in crowd as others stepped forward and concealed them toward the rear.

A somewhat younger looking man stood forth and foremost, glancing back at the rest, all of whom seemed willing to let that man speak on their behalf.

"Hello, strangers," he said, though he was looking right at Afyanna. "Welcome to Joad. My name is Horton. I guess you could say I'm in charge here. Forgive my rudeness, but if I may ask, what brings you to our little village?"

"Ask her how the roads are," a younger man offered from the rear. "Ouch!" he added, an older, heavyset man standing next to him prodding him in the ribs with his elbow. Horton glared back at them and both fell silent.

Turning back, Horton asked, "Yes, the roads are good, are they? Did you perhaps hail from Hooktar?"

As she considered the man, Afy noticed his eyes. They appeared older for a man of his apparent youth. Looking closer, she realized he was not a human, but a halfelf, and probably not all that young.

Elves and halfelves, unlike most other humanoid races, had the deceptive appearance of youth even when remarkably old. Only the eyes might divulge their true age, and even then, a few minutes of applying makeup did an excellent job at concealing those telltale signs. Horton was not, apparently, wearing any makeup. Only the barest trace of points could be seen on his ears, suggesting far more human ancestry of late than elven, and that it was probably his maternal line that was human. Yet, despite this dilution of blood, the elven heritage lingered, and a kin-der several generations removed from elven stock might still reach one and half centuries or more.

Judging from the eyes, Afy guessed Horton was well over one hundred, maybe even one and a quarter centuries old. A quick mental calculation equated this to a human in his mid eighties, without apparent infirmity, loss of hair or even hair color, or even most other telltale signs of advanced age. But the eyes bespoke of his true, venerable age.

The crowd went completely silent, waiting to hear the answers to Horton's questions.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: A Surprise In Joad

The journey to the village had seemed unfamiliar at many points, despite having traveled it only a few hours previously. *The dark can do that to anywhere,* Sef had thought. Tracks that seemed friendly and familiar during the day took on a new form at night, as the distances and directions became contorted by the darkness. *This time it's the other way round,* he mused, as he faced the townsfolk.

The village square became all the more confusing for the presence of many farmers and townspeople. The ranger's face darkened slightly and he frowned at their presence. Could it have been only the night that hid them from Sef and Wyn? He hoped not, otherwise he had failed at his first hurdle.

"I hope it's not just the state of the roads they're worried about, Afy," whispered Sef to the holy warrior after hearing the village voice their concerns. He was certain as much as anyone else that something much more sinister lay under recent events, but perhaps a little more tact might be required to obtain the information they all needed.

The ranger stayed still and awaited a response from Afyanna, but he watched the villagers' reactions with great interest.

*Let's see how they react when they hear of our quest,* he thought to himself. *A man can betray his secrets by more than mere words.*

And the elf was sure that these people had more to reveal.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia:

"It looks like our boys overlooked a few people the previous day," Alana whispered in an amused tone to Tyrulf standing near her. She took in the assembled people. There was no doubt in her mind that those were the missing villagers. There appeared to be quite a few of them gathered in the square.

"I knew it. I just knew that a whole town would not just disappear like that," Alana said, still whispering.

*Unless something very unnatural happened to them. I was more than a bit worried about that,* the druid confessed to herself. A sense of relief had come over her once her initial surprise had faded away.

She hadn't realized how much she had feared for the fate of the people of Joad.

Still, Alana was aware that all was far from well. There was a certain tension. It could be her imagination, but she got the impression that many people looked at them with a certain amount of suspicion - like they hadn't expected anyone to make it to Joad. And the relief she had felt at finding the people of Joad still alive was mixed with a vague uneasy feeling that kept her alert, scanning her environment with more concentration than usual.

When the crowd fell silent, Alana found herself eagerly awaiting Afyanna's answer with the rest of them.

- Wilma (Alana)

PBEM Orlantia: Telling All

*Something's not right,* Afyanna thought. *I'm sure there's more going on here than I can see.*

With no place else to begin, the kin-der put on her best diplomatic face.

"Good day to you all. I am Afyanna d'Enthril, Holy Warrior of Corellon Larethian. We certainly did not mean to interrupt your meeting with our arrival."

Turning to include the party with a sweep of her arm, she noted that not everyone was with her like Sef was.

The population of the town had taken them by surprise, and the subsequent reaction of the townsfolk had added to the unease. Though the party was making its way closer, many were keeping near the buildings. Sef's concern mirrored her own, but Afyanna decided it would be prudent to answer the spokesman's questions first.

The other party members, who had kept their eyes on Horton, could see that the elder halfelf had begun to listen to Afyanna with a stern look on his face, seemingly quite prepared to take anything they claimed as highly suspect. It was a look they were all too used to - the look given to strangers.

But as she spoke, her manner softened him. What's more, his bravado and stalwart posture was instantly deflated with her utterance of, 'Holy Warrior of Corellon Larethian.' It was as if the words alone had undone him, taken the wind from his sails, and dropped him in his tracks. And he was not the only one.

"Holy Warrior!" some whispered. "Holy Warrior?" others repeated back.

"The Holy Warrior of Wrath," another gasped.

The crowd was muttering now, a confused murmur buzzed between them, not much of which could be discerned as intelligible statements, though many were glancing at the statue.

"QUIET! All of you," hissed Horton, louder than he wished.

Afy had turned to indicate her party during most of that, with a gesture almost automatic and practiced it had to be played out as rehearsed, but she instantly turned back at the unexpected reaction.

Horton smiled at her. "Are you indeed a Holy Warrior of Corellon Larethian?" Horton asked, a bit nervously.

"Yes . . . " she replied, a bit uneasy herself with such a short response in light of the uncertainty where it might lead. She might have said more about it just then, but decided to wait.

*I guess such a reaction isn't too surprising, considering the town's statue,* she thought. *Though there must be something more to it,* she decided. She made a mental note of it.

"Please, go on," he said. "You were answering my question about the roads."

Hesitantly, Afy continued. "Yes, we did indeed come in from the direction of Hooktar. The roads are quite passable, if not altogether safe."

"What did you mean by 'not safe,'" he asked.

Afyanna licked her lips before replying. *How will he react? What if he's involved?*

The holy warrior shifted her weight nonchalantly, readying herself in case the reaction to her words was hostile.

"There has been trouble of late - of a deadly sort."

"Trouble?" Horton asked.

"Aye, travelers have gone missing and people have been murdered."

Horton had no immediate response, nor did anyone in the crowd.

Afyanna decided to finish what she started.

"In all honesty, it is truly a relief to find you here. The sheriff in Hooktar explained that he had received no word from Joad. Also," she added, "the disappearances and killings are more frequent the closer one comes to Joad."

She could feel the tension in the town square growing even more than it was already.

"Tell me, please. Have you seen anything unusual in the past few months?"

- Rick (Afyanna) - JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Horton's Tale.

Ignoring her question, Horton instead asked, "Why have you come to Joad, then, if it was so dangerous? What's your business here?"

Afyanna didn't really appreciate his accusatory tone, but she let the matter pass. She saw no point in lying, and right or wrong, she opted to give him a straight answer.

*The reaction alone ought to be interesting,* she figured, though she kept her hand on her sword's pommel - just in case.

"Corellon Larethian sent me here," she said, perhaps a bit too boldly.

Such a statement, after all, was not to be taken lightly. The very idea of lying about such a thing made people shake in fear of being struck down by the gods above for such egregious behavior uttered in their name, and the way Afy said it so assuredly, with such a level of certainty as to anything concerning the mysterious gods, it was enough to unnerve even a cleric of Larethian himself. Thankfully, it happened to be true.

"Iiieeeeeeeeee!" an old woman cried, falling to her knees. "Spare us, mistress. Spare us!" she stammered, quickly crawling forward on her hands and knees and prostrating herself before the holy warrior. "We have sinned," she sobbed, "but please spare us."

"Andrew! Take her back inside, will you," snapped Horton. Andrew obeyed, and helped the wailing woman to her feet and led her away as she continued to shake and moan. Soon, they disappeared around a corner to the south.

"My apologies," Horton began, "but she's been under a lot of stress lately. We all have." He turned to address the crowd then. "I suggest you all go back to the cave and wait for us there," he ordered them. To a man, they all obeyed.

*Ah yes, the cave,* Sefarlain thought, satisfied to hear the word. Almost relieved, really.

"As for you," Horton said, turning back toward Afyanna and the others, "I think we best adjourn to my house. I have things to tell you," he finished, and then turned and strode off in a westerly direction.

Afyanna was a little shocked at the woman's reaction. *She seemed to think I was here to punish them,* she thought. *Maybe even kill them.* Wanting answers, Afy went with Horton, and her comrades followed.

A few streets over and down, they eventually came to a larger, prominent looking house where they followed Horton inside. Compared to the other buildings, that one obviously had considerably more money invested in it; it had gables and fences, stone walkways, and blue painted shutters that showed off its considerable value.

"I'm afraid the house is a bit cold and drafty right now. It's not worth making a fire. We've been hiding out in the caves toward the lake," he told them. "We hide there every night. It seems safe enough in the day, but how far can you get in day?" he asked rhetorically.

"We've been forced to do this most of last fall and all this winter. As you can guess, it hasn't been easy. Oh, we've sent out a couple men to Hooktar, just before the winter hit," he said, sullenly.

What had become of them, everyone there could guess, now that Afy had unknowingly confirmed the sheriff of Hooktar was ignorant of any such arrivals from Joad. It occurred to her just then that her earlier words might have tactlessly told a few in the crowd their friend or loved ones were dead. Harsh news to be received so abruptly. She frowned.

Horton could read it in her face. "Yes, I suspect they're dead, too. Trampled," he added, confirming he even knew how they met their end.

"Then you know?" she asked him.

"Know? Yes, we know. We've seen it. But what could we do? It's killed every man that dared stand against it. I didn't see the point in trying to fight it anymore. Not when it stomped all four of the Mengie brothers into the ground. There wasn't a one of them any of us would have wanted to cross, let alone all four of them. But it killed them. Every one. All four of them. Their skulls were smashed in. To tell the truth, I'm glad to say, I don't think it killed them that way. It looked like they were dead already from other injuries. But that . . . that thing, even when it had won, even when they were dead, it still stomped them all the more, as if it took great delight in doing it. What's the expression? 'There's no sense in beating a dead horse'?" Horton fell back into a chair, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips before he buried his face in his hands, obviously weary and very tired. Soon, he looked up and went on with his tale.

"Fighting it was no good. And getting out word to the outside apparently did no better. You can't get anywhere safe in a single night. Still, we were just discussing trying it again. Our supplies can't hold out forever, and we need to be working our vineyards soon." He looked at Afyanna, who had been intently listening to every word so closely he discovered he had been talking at length. Yet the look on her face still suggested she wanted more.

"Martha Clark, Andrew's mother, that poor woman who fell at your feet, has it in her head the gods sent that demon to punish us. There's no reason for anyone to think that. We haven't done anything, but it, well . . . it probably comforts her to feel such evil could only be visited upon us because we deserve it. You might know the type. But I assure you, nobody deserves this. Nobody."

At last he seemed at a loss for words as he stared at the long dead ashes in the fireplace. Except he then added, after a brief pause, "So, what do you wish of us?"

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Alana's Monologue.

Alana had followed Afyanna and Horton inside the house and listened, very interested in his tale. She wasn't sure if she had been included in the invitation, but she simply had been too curious about what the man had to tell to be left outside. Besides, she hadn't been the only one following.

"You say it killed every man that dared stand against it," the druid suddenly said, not really waiting for an answer. "And those Mengie brothers, there were four of them?"

Horton nodded.

"Well, we do know it attacks small groups, but never, at least not so far, larger numbers of people. So if we want to lay a trap, we need to conceal most of us." Alana continued in a thoughtful tone. "If, as you say it kills everyone that stands against it, at least now we know that it will come here if we use the right bait." She was growing more enthusiastic by the minute, and not really paying attention to the rather astonished looks she got.

"Wyn had this proposal with the ropes. At the time I was afraid it wouldn't work, it being a fiery creature and all, but I think if we soak the ropes in water they ought to withstand catching fire for quite some while. Maybe long enough for us to do it some serious damage. But whoever is crazy enough to try and get them over its head should probably practice with wet rope for a while. They might behave a little different than dry ropes," she cautioned.

Alana had been thinking about a lot of these things in the quiet hours when she had watch or just before she fell asleep. It had been really frustrating hunting something that was so elusive, and this seemed like just the chance for which they had been waiting. After all, just the other day, Cosher - or had it been someone else? - had speculated about laying a trap for the creature. Finally they would be able to get even for the Lovejoy's and Jahar's deaths, and free these people from their fear.

"I would still like to try my theory with the water," Alana continued her monologue, "but we need contingency plans in case our theories go wrong. I noticed that the houses are still standing. On the other hand, it did make firewood of the Lovejoy's little cabin. But a good solid stone house should at least offer some kind of protection we can retreat to in case of need. Preferably one with more than one exit so we don't get trapped. As far as we know, there is only one creature and it can't possibly cover both exits at the same time, though it did move rather fast," she added, thoughtfully. Alana was really getting into it now.

"I had been thinking about digging a pitfall, but with the way it floated over the water, I do not think it would work. But we do know it reacted to the crossbow bolts that were fired at it. Whether it was only annoyed or really hurt is still a matter of debate, but it did notice them. So I thought maybe we could construct a real big one that we could fire at it as soon as we get it maneuvered into the right position."

"And maybe Bebe can come up with some nasty potions that can hurt it even more." Alana had been rather impressed with the little druid's knowledge in that area when they were talking.

"And I was also thinking," Alana was now pacing back and forth in front of her astounded audience, "in Katana I heard of this weapon that consists of a three cords knotted together with weights at the ends. You can use it to entangle a creature's legs. What was it called again? A Bora, no a Bola. Doesn't really matter. I would love to try to construct one. I have only a fleeting knowledge of it, but perhaps with some practice . . ." the druid's voice trailed off, as if she was already contemplating how to do this. "And several of us could give it a try. Just think of it. If it works, we could really rob this nightmare of some of its most fearsome weapons. No more trampling. And it wouldn't even matter if it floats several inches over the ground," she added, cheerfully.

"And we also have to give some thought about the spells we are going to prepare. Some people are bound to get hurt so we should have at least some healing spells ready. But I think it would be a good idea to make an inventory of who is going to use what. Let's crush the sucker with all we've got, but don't forget about being able to take care of ourselves, either."

"What do you think?" Alana said, abruptly ending her little impromptu speech.

"And by the way, did you perhaps happen to notice a rather handsome black and white cat?" she asked Horton, as an afterthought.

Horton did not answer right away. His eyes bulged. "But . . ." he sputtered, ". . . you can't really expect our people to . . ."

Alana felt color rush to her cheeks. "No, no, I was just . . ." for the first time she noticed how everybody was looking at her. She had been totally oblivious to her surroundings for quite a while.

"They were just some ideas. I really think we can defeat that thing," she explained, considerably more subdued now that her initial enthusiasm had waned. In fact, she even looked almost shyly at the rest. "We just have to succeed," she added, a bit more vehemently.

- Wilma (Alana)

PBEM Orlantia: Bewildered Elder.

The ranting druid was truly a marvel to behold, and the bewildered elder sat in awe at what she was saying, or what he thought she meant, and the implications of it all. But she was confusing, and seemed a little off on some details he felt obliged to correct.

It took a moment for him to speak, however, since whatever the case, it was clear to Horton that Alana was suggesting bold action against the thing from hell.

"You remind me of Kenil Miller. He had spirit, too. 'No one or nothing is going to put me out of my home,' he said. He refused to hide in the cave with the rest of us. He figured if he had to, he could stay in his house, fire out, and that thing wouldn't know any better. 'I intend to die in my own bed,' was the last thing he told us," Horton said. "He didn't even get his wish. His body was far from his bed. I can show you the burnt out ruins of his house, if you wish. No, that thing knows. It sees what we're doing. And it'll burn a house down just to get you. The caves, at least, are safe, even if there is only one exit. It's never tried to get in there," he told them.

"Bait?" he then said. "You don't need any bait. If you want to confront it, just like the Mengie brothers, all you have to do is challenge it by being outside at night in the streets of Joad. At least every night we know, it hunts the streets. Oh, maybe lately it's hunting elsewhere too. I don't know. It sounds like it, from what your friend is saying," he motioned to Alana, "and I'm sorry to hear its reach is so extensive. I don't understand it, in fact. How can it be here and so far away in the same night?" he asked.

"Alana," Sef spoke up. "I'm sorry to disillusion you, but a bola is not an easy weapon to master, and anyone not proficient with it already would surely pose more of a threat to themselves and others than the creature. And no one is just going to be able to slap an impromptu ballista together and hope to get in a lucky shot on such a creature. It takes quite some time for a master to build such a weapon. And the difference between wet and dry rope is astonishing. Maybe a sailor could do it. Cosher, how about it? Are you proficient with rope and lariat, quite accustomed to working with wet rope on a rocking deck?"

"It's no really the same thing," the sea dwarf replied. "Hittin' a target on the run is a whole otha skill than dozens of useful knots. I mean, I know what knot and all to use, but would nae think well of me chances of bein' successful with et. I could give it a try, but I can no expect good results, and think me time er be a wasted doin' that when I could be fightin' with Sliobhann or some other weapon I'm actually good at," he admitted.

"And brewing up some potion would take too long as well," Bebe added. "A lot of good ideas if we had all the time in the world, but nothing for right now, Alana. Sorry," the gnome said.

"Cat?" asked Horton. "What's a cat got to do with anything? Not that I've seen any cat, but, well . . . I didn't honestly understand a lot of what you were saying, my dear," he confessed. "But I like your enthusiasm, and I'm heartened to learn you've already had some experience with this thing and still you want to challenge it. If you had never witnessed the thing and thought nothing of taking it on like you suggest, I'd have no choice but to think you all blind fools, but if you've already seen it and know about it, and yet are willing to try, maybe you know a lot more than I. I only know that thing kills, and with malice and hatred. It's evil, pure and simple. That much I can attest to."

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Safety in the Cave?

Afyanna raised her hand slightly to get the attention of the town spokesman.

"Mister . . . err Horton?"

The elder halfelf's gaze met hers and his brows lifted in an implicit 'Yes?'

"You said that the nightmare doesn't need to be baited? That it knows what you are up to and will burn down your home just to get to you?"

"Well, yes. Like I said - it seemed to just 'want' to kill Kenil Miller. You see . . . "

"I see," Afy said, cutting him off before he retold the tale.

The look Horton returned told of someone not used to being interrupted.

"Please, forgive me," she said. "It's just that you also said that the creature has never come for you in the cave."

Afyanna looked around the room. "Wouldn't a cave be much easier? I mean, instead of the creature picking people off piecemeal in town, it would be far easier to get everyone at once in a cave. Yet it hasn't. Why?"

"Horton, can you please tell us a bit about this cave? Is there anything unusual about it?"

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Stone Haven.

"Unusual? I guess only that it's cramped, twisting, and, of course, stone. Stone doesn't burn like our houses do. That flaming devil can set wooden houses on fire if it wants to, and then it just waits outside while those within burn to death or are forced to run out where it can pulverize them. It couldn't do that to the cave. That's what was suggested, and it seems to be the case. If there's some other reason why, I'm not aware of it, but you're welcome to see the caves for yourselves," Horton said, rising from his chair.

"We should let the others know what's going on, anyway," he added.

With that, he moved toward the door and exited the house, taking for granted all the party members were following him and not just Afyanna.

The trip took the better part of fifteen minutes, and ended on a wide trail leading down toward the lake. A large stone berm ran along the beach, and ancient caves studded its length.

"Some of these are natural, cut out from a higher water line once upon a time, but others are man made. Well . . . elven made. Our ancestors cut into the rock or expanded and widened the tunnels. Nothing extensive as . . ." he stopped speaking. "Oh, just see for yourselves," he said, and led his way into the largest opening where an iron grate door was ajar, though it could clearly be locked.

Sef noticed numerous tracks along the beach, the trail, and in front of the caves - including some odd, oval depressions that ran up and down the length of the beach. They were spaced exactly as one might expect hoof prints from a cantering horse, but they were not hoof prints. Though the beast strode upon the air and never touched the ground, apparently it was not exactly flying when it did so, so it left a trail - at least in softer surfaces.

The ranger remembered the bowl shaped depressions in the water as it pawed at him in the river. But something didn't quite, um . . . fly. Why hadn't it made tracks departing some snowy scenes then? Then again, maybe it could fly.

A pegasus, he knew, could walk and fly. Flying took considerably more room, however. Maybe this nightmare both flew and walked, only when it walked, it did so above the ground somehow. He stored the information in his head as another item of interest and then joined the others inside the cave.

The walls were natural - some of them - or hewn smooth by man or elf - some of them. Horton had been right about them being cramped and twisting, though. A horse would have difficulty maneuvering inside those tunnels, even if it did gain entrance. In some places it might fare well, but it could get hung up in others. And all of it was stonework. Even the traditional timber supports were not wood so much as stone pillars carefully cut and hammered into place where support was needed.

Tyrulf examined the stonework and made an announcement.

"This is dwarven craftsmanship," he said. "Not elven."

"Really?" said Horton. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Do you not think I'd not recognize the hand of my own people?"

The elder looked flustered. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you. We always just assumed our elven ancestors did this. Though I think that's interesting, does it mean something to you?" he asked.

Truthfully, Tyrulf didn't know what it meant, except that at some point, at some time, perhaps long, long ago, a dwarf had been here before.

Tyrulf shrugged.

Horton then turned and led them further inside until they came upon the people of Joad once again, though this time, there were signs of hundreds of them. The air reeked of crowded habitation.

"Some of the other caves contain more of us," he told them. "Between them all, there is currently over 750 of us here, man, woman, and child. The rest are dead, or assumed dead. Nearly two score of us, I'm sorry to say."

The young man, Andrew, came up to Horton then. "She's resting comfortably again," he told him. Horton nodded.

"What now?" the elder halfelf asked Afyanna.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: A Not Too Distant Memory

Horton had been right about one thing. The house had certainly been cold. Together with a slight mustiness emanating from the furniture, it had seemed fairly clear no one had occupied the house for some time. The same could not be said for the caves. The scent of man was almost overpowering.

*At least I haven't gone completely mad,* Sef had thought when Horton revealed the location of the villagers' hideout. The villagers had shown a good deal of practical sense, even if it could only be a short-term measure. He didn't even want to imagine the desperation and fear they must have felt at being cut off for so long by such a monster.

As Horton showed them the cave, something continued to nag at the ranger. It had begun back in the house while Alana was talking about her plan. Something Horton had said. Sefarlain began to be aware of an uneasy feeling he had missed something important, although inconsequential at the time. What exactly had the halfelf said that he could have missed?

As Horton's voice echoed around the cave, Sefarlain tried to remember exactly what Horton had discussed in the house. There had been something about the house being cold. The caves, yes, that had made sense. And then the ranger recalled a short phrase, just a throw away remark really. No one had noticed it at the time.

'We've been forced to do this most of last fall and all this winter. As you can guess, it hasn't been easy', Horton had told them.

This had been going on since last year. This creature had been terrorizing the villagers for nearly six scepters at least. And yet Afyanna had received her vision only a couple of scepters ago also, so why was this date sticking in Sef's mind? No, it wasn't just the fact that this beast had been active for so long that was bothering the elf. There was something else, some other piece of information that he was missing.

He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. The cave closed in as Horton began to reply to Afyanna while Sef let his thoughts drift, hoping to find what was bothering him.

*Best to start at the beginning,* he reminded himself, and cast his mind back to the origins of their quest. Who had told them about what was going on in Wrath? That would be back at the sage's dwelling.

He could see the warm room, the wine and a young eager sage looking somewhat testily at his father. Talk of Wrath, parishes, the crackle of the fire, and eager, new faces looking at one another with uncertainty. And questions, many questions. Some answers, some tantalizing clues. And yes, the drow. That had startled them all. Was that it? He could hear the sage's voice talking to him as if he still sat an arm's distance away.

'The wine hasn't been up to snuff lately as well, or so I'm told. Not for decades', he recalled Nick had told them.

'You know, not too long ago, oh . . . nothing to do with Wrath or anything . . . a wizard in a tavern asked me about the grapes in this area. But he did say he'd stop back some time and inquire further. That was, what, last summer already?', Nick's uncle Fess had recalled, as well.

*Wizard? Why would a wizard be inquiring after grapes? And was he asking about Wrath's grapes? They seemed to have declined for no real reason. And this had been last summer, just before these events began to happen,* his thoughts meandered along.

The ranger let out a small gasp, and the cave, so distant only a few moments ago, snapped back into focus. Many pairs of eyes, some unfamiliar to him, fixed him with various expressions.

"Is there something I have said that has upset you, master elf?" questioned Horton with a frown. He wasn't used to being interrupted too often, particularly at such important moments.

"Forgive me, sir," began Sefarlain hesitantly. "I have just been reminded of some information that may be of use to us."

He introduced himself to Horton quickly and then continued.

"It seems that in order to form the most appropriate next step, we really need to understand why this creature is here. I realize we are not too far from Dark Wood, but even so, this seems a very strange step for such a beast to attack without someone having brought it here or released it. If we can find out why it is here, perhaps we can think of some means of banishing or destroying it. Otherwise who is to say another will not take its place?"

This last comment was not well received by Horton, who visibly paled at the talk of another nightmare. Sefarlain went on to recall the conversation with the sage all that time ago.

*Weeks ago?* he thought. *No, it just seems like weeks, but I guess it's been only nine days or so,* he reminded himself.

"I had forgotten all this until now. But I must ask you, sir. Can you think of anything that was unusual in those summer months before these attacks started? Anyone not from the area? Anything to do with the grapes? Any strange occurrences, however minor? They may just hold the clues we seek."

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: A Clue?

Horton stared blankly at Sefarlain, completely at a loss for words for several moments, as if searching backward in time for clues, and maybe trying to arrange and articulate his thoughts. But that look of deep suspicion soon reemerged - the one given toward strangers who mean you no good - and Horton spoke carefully.

"Unusual? Asking about our grapes? Yes. Yes, a man did come to ask," Horton confessed, almost reluctantly. "We couldn't tell him what he wanted to know. Some people, you know, just can't take 'because' as an answer, I guess. I mean, what you say if he asked you how come the grapes of Wrath were the sweetest in the area?" Horton demanded. "Because they just are," he answered his own question. "That's why. Anyway, he didn't stay around for very long," Horton quickly added. "Now that you mention it, yeah, the attacks started shortly after he left. What does it mean?" he asked.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: A Mysterious Figure

Horton seemed somewhat annoyed by Sefarlain's questions, as if they were somehow irrelevant. Perhaps they were indeed, particularly if you had over forty dead friends to account for. But this was the only thread Sefarlain had for exploring what was underlying all of these deaths, so he clung to it for a little longer.

"I know this seems like a distraction, but can you remember much about this man? Who was he? Where did he come from? And what exactly did he ask about? Did he seem annoyed at his answers? And is there anyone else we need to talk to about this man? A lot of questions, sir, but it may or may not be important. I don't know which at the moment, but please humor us. We are here to try and help this village. Please believe me," Sef pleaded.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Questions

As Sef paused for a moment to allow Horton to respond to his questions, Mystir interjected. "Mr. Horton," he started, "I know our questions may be overwhelming, but I have a few of my own." The wizard paused for a moment to ensure he had the elder's attention. "You see," he added, "in order for us to do what we can with this creature we have to learn as much as we can about it, and its reason for being here. And even how it got here, for that matter."

"Yes I understand," the aged halfelf responded.

"What has my interest is the livestock of Joad. Or rather the lack of livestock."

The faces of a few of Mystir's other companions gave the impression that they had noticed as well.

"What happened to them? Did the nightmare attack them? More specifically, what about the horses of your town? Again did it attack them or possibly set them free?" The thought of the latter idea had been nagging at the boy for a while. "If the nightmare is interested in its normal counterparts in any way, the use of a Mount spell for bait could be a possibility."

"How so?" Afyanna asked.

"Well, if it attacked horses, we could use it as bait. And if it released them, we could tie the mount up and make it appear in distress. Either way we can lure the nightmare to a point of our choosing." Mystir paused a moment to ensure he had his thoughts in order. "So is there anything in particular to the way the creature reacted to your livestock, and specifically to your horses, that you think may help us?"

- Kevin (Mystir)

PBEM Orlantia: The Man In Purple.

Horton nodded at the pair of strangers questioning him at length, and a look of remorse shown through his eyes.

"Actually, the creature didn't seem all that interested in our livestock. It scattered them, of course, and they avoid it, but it never ran them down or killed any. But each day we were able to find and gather most of them . . . at first," he said. "There soon came a time when we could no longer afford to feed them, some of our barns having been burnt down. Hay and oat stores were destroyed. Our stock would have staved to death if we hadn't . . ." he sighed then, looking crestfallen.

"We were forced to eat most of them," Horton finally admitted. "Mostly when we found them frozen to death. We've been reduced to living like scavengers," he cursed. "Others may still be around, or dead, or scattered, I'm not sure, but finding them each day has become more and more difficult, and our supplies are dwindling. Even if that beast left us alone from this day forward, it has already dealt a crippling blow to our economy. Fortunately, there are herds of wild horses in this region not too far to the south, maybe a few days, and though difficult to capture and hard to break, we might be able to recover, if that damnable horse from hell was just gone!" he cursed again.

Looking back at Sef, Horton said, "That man may have been an adventurer for all I know. His questions were . . . unusual. He insisted there must be more to our soil than was 'natural.' I do not know why he said that, and he didn't say. He only demanded to know the secret, like I would give it up if threatened or intimidated," he spat. "When I wouldn't answer . . . " he paused reflectively. "I mean, when I couldn't answer, he poked around for a few days and rode into town now and again on that horse of his, but he kept his own company. After a time, he stopped coming. Within a day, maybe two, though, as I said and now that you mentioned it, the attack of that 'thing' started. Do you believe he is sending it after us? Honestly, to tell you the truth, though I didn't like his manner, he didn't strike me as such an evil man that he would visit such a curse upon anyone, let alone so many. I think he was just a bit of an over enthusiastic worshiper of Dionysus."

"Dionysus?" Tyrulf asked.

"Yes, he wore mostly purple and carried a thyrsus staff, though I'm fairly certain this was done as respect to his god, and not because he was a cleric of Dionysus or really needed a walking stick. Beyond that, I didn't speak to him, but others may have. Andrew?" he said, turning.

The young man had been standing against the cave wall, listening to what transpired. "Andrew, go and see who else may have spoken to that stranger last summer. Be sure to ask everyone." Andrew obediently left to make inquiries, and soon left that cave for another to ask everyone remaining.

"While we wait, you are welcome to some of our . . . uh . . . stock," he said. "Perhaps you'd rather not, but the soup stock is about the fairest way we had to share our meat. You know, mule isn't bad, really, as a stew," he said, though no one could tell if he was serious, or just making the best of it.

Most of the party members declined to even try it, saying they wouldn't think of taking what little the villagers had remaining while they had their own field provisions. Before long, Andrew returned with a young girl of about 12 years of age.

"This is Kiki," Andrew introduced her. "She is the only one remaining who seems to have spoken to the man in purple."

"Kiki," Horton asked her. "what did the man in purple ask you about?" he coaxed her.

Kiki looked a little worried, but eventually replied, "He wanted to know about the moon," she said. "Scepter, the one in back," she meekly added. "He was looking at it when I met him on the way home, and he asked me if I liked looking at it, and if I thought it was pretty, and, and, where and when I thought it was prettiest?" she questioned herself, her voice rising at the end as if to ask if she had the right answer.

"What did you tell him?" Andrew asked.

"I dunno. I mean, it's pretty an' all, but I never looked at it that much. And then, and then he started, like, singing, something about a quarter and dancing lights, and crescent rolls maybe, and the wind, and stuff, and a stony smile. What's a stony smile? I asked, but he went, 'it was just poetry,' and I went, 'it didn't rhyme,' and he went, like, 'beat it, kid,' so I did, cuz he was drinking so much from his silver thingy, and I don't like adults when they smell like the vats, and Jenny was coming over soon, so I went away and left him on the hill?" she asked herself again in that tone that spoke of uncertainty whether or not they were giving the correct answers to an adult.

"Was that all?" Andrew asked her.

"Uh huh," Kiki said.

"OK, Kiki, you did well. Thank you very much," Horton told her, patting her on her shoulder.

"I better get her back to her mom," Andrew told them. "She gets too worried when she can't see her little girl and know she's safe, with this 'thing' still running around. And who can blame her?" he glared, glowering at anyone who dared find fault with what he said. Then the pair left the cave.

"Anyone else who may have spoken to the man in purple is either keeping it a secret, or dead now," Horton added. "I hope that's of some use to you, though I don't exactly see how," he admitted.

"The vats?" Alana questioned him.

"Hmm? Oh, the vats. The fermentation vats. I imagine she meant he reeked of alcohol and was drinking too much from his silver hip flask. He was a worshiper of Dionysus, after all. Anything else you'd like to ask," he sort of demanded, obviously wishing an end to what he no doubt felt was his interrogation.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: A Cunning Plan?

Cosher had been quiet for some time now. For the last few minutes he had stood at the back of the party listening intently to the conversations his companions were having with the man Horton.

*Am Ah missing something?* he thought to himself. *Ah mean, is it jus' me or is it really quite obvious what's goin' on here? Ah dinnae want tae offend anyone an' accuse people o' completely missin' the point, but Ah don't believe killin' the beastie is perhaps the right course o' action!* he thought.

Cosher politely cleared his throat and stepped forward. He hadn't spoken up till then, and protocol perhaps dictated that it wasn't right of him to chip in at that time, particularly in front of Horton, but since what he had to say involved the townspeople too, the sea dwarf felt that it was important to say his piece now.

"Excuse me everyone," the young dwarf began, "Ah've been thinkin' an' Ah'd like tae say a few words. Firstly, pleased tae meet yerself, Mister Horton. Ah'm Cosher McLean. What Ah've got tae say involves ye as well, so bear with me."

"Afyanna, Sef," he nodded to his companions, "Pardon me intrusion, but Ah'm jus' gonnae air a few o' me thoughts an' ideas on the situation, if that's ok?" No one objected.

"Anyway, Ah don't think Ah'm being too slow by suggesting that perhaps this beastie isnae just working on its own, indiscriminately murdering random victims in and around town. Particularly in the light o' this latest information - this purple-cloaked stranger. Seems he's taken a fancy tae the grapes in this area. This also seems tae tie in with the bits an' pieces we've picked up along the way - ye know, the 'grapes o' Wrath' an' all that."

The bard paused for a second or two, allowing his words to sink in.

"It does appear," he continued, "that someone, or something may be directing the activities o' the beastie - ye know, sending it oot intae the village tae murder and frighten. Maybe someone's hoping tae get the villagers scared enough tae up an' leave toon? Why no? Sure, it may have nothin' tae do with the purple-clad stranger, but then agin, it may, right?"

One or two reluctant nods greeted this last question, and Cosher realized that perhaps more convincing had to be done.

"Well, if there is more tae this situation than simply a beastie haunting these parts, then we have tae generate a solution that's a bit more, shall we say, imaginative?"

Confused looks all round at this. Unfazed, the dwarf continued.

"Its no as if Ah'm saying anyone's suggestions up till now are no right, but Ah dinnae think that luring the beastie intae town an' fightin' it to the death is perhaps the right idea! If there's more to this than we first thought, then our priority should be tae discover the truth, right? As someone said, what's tae stop this 'person' or whatever it is, simply conjuring up a new beastie, if we manage tae slay this one, and then where are we? Back at the beginning, eh?"

"Now, how aboot luring this beastie intae town, which we're all agreed seems pretty easy, eh? Then, let's scare it off" - bemused looks at this! - "with our sheer weight o' numbers o' course! Imagine this, the whole town hidin' in wait till the beastie appears, then out they pop, hundreds o' people from every direction - we all agree that it may attack a group of four, but hundreds? Ah dinnae think so!"

"So, the beastie panics - Ah hope! - an' flees back tae where it comes frae. Meanwhile, we adventurers are waiting, strategically placed on the outskirts o' town tae see the beastie flee, an' then we follae it! Right back tae its home, its source, or wherever it goes. Yeh, right back tae the purple-robed man, drow, or whoever's planning this murderous campaign!"

Cosher took a deep breath, and gave a little smile. He was quite pleased with his plan. Whether the others, particularly Horton, would feel the same was another matter.

"Well? What do yes think?"

- Johnny (Cosher)