PBEM Orlantia

The Story So Far
Chapter 022

PBEM Orlantia: Desperate Departure.

Within a half an hour most of the villagers were ready to leave. They had been too optimistic on some fronts, and so not only Horton and Andrew would remain, but five others as well who were too elderly, infirm, or feeble to make the hurried trip without a cart.

After gathering the remaining food, what was left was estimated to be good for several days for those seven that remained. Of course this didn't include sharing with the strangers, but it was obviously assumed by Horton they had their own food, could find some, or would use the magicks Bebe had shown off earlier.

"Andrew will tend to those remaining," Horton explained to Afyanna, "and I'll be close to assist you if you have any questions. I doubt I'd be any use in a fight, though," he added, making his non-combat role perfectly clear.

The owner of the voice Afy had earlier heard turned out to be a man named Baledun, and the duty to lead the others safely to Hooktar fell to him. They took nearly nothing with them besides water, leaving all other belongings and meager provisions behind.

"We'll try to send help, if any will come," Baledun told Horton, "but don't count on any help soon. If you fair well, we'll be waiting at Hooktar until we hear from you, Horton. Our prayers remain with you," he said, looking at Afyanna. "But truthfully, I think our prayers were already answered when Lord Larethian sent you to us, holy warrior." He smiled at Afyanna then, as if waiting for something.

Afy felt slightly embarrassed. Was she a prayer become incarnate? It was certainly not how she thought of herself. But the villagers clearly felt otherwise. And it wasn't the first time some few had exalted Afy beyond her personal point of comfort. The people she had saved when the dam broke back home - the first time Larethian had touched her with His blessed acceptance - also held Afy in such high esteem and praise, and it eventually became necessary for her to avoid them on the street when she could. She didn't like the praise or continuous 'thank you's', or anyone making her out to be more than she was. She knew who she was. So she calmly more properly redirected such praise when it seemed centered on her.

"Praise be to Larethian," she intoned, looking upwards. "All glory and admiration is in His name as we humbly do His bidding."

It was a standard response, but Afy had learned it usually shifted any undue honor away from her and left the person or people with a good feeling and something worthy of exaltation.

Baledun smiled at her again and turned to leave.

"Let's head out then, everyone. Keep up. No one is to stop until we all do. We'll take a 10-minute break every hour. LET'S WENT!" he shouted, and he marched out the remaining hundreds from Joad into the night. Soon, they were gone, their dim lantern light disappearing around a hill in the distance.

"Now what?" Horton asked Afy.

And Andrew, who seemed to have something on his mind, stepped forward and confronted Bebe just then.

"Why did you ask about people going insane earlier?" Andrew finally asked after cornering the small gnomish druid.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Madness.

Bebe looked at Andrew and spoke candidly. "I traveled with a monk named Ceracludius Maximonium, who worshipped Dionysus, or at least the wine totem." Bebe gave a wiry grin thinking back to the days she traveled on the Wavedancer, working as an assistant healer to the drunken Ceracludius.

"He told me many stories," Bebe continued, "of his God, Dionysus, and the clerics that worship Him. One was how a terrible madness would strike those who displeased Dionysus or His worshippers. I asked the question out of curiosity since I have a hunch that one of his followers is behind the terrible actions taking place in the area. I really don't think the God, Himself, is behind the atrocious acts, but knowledge is power in the world and I believe someone wants to know the secret hidden in this valley, and that person is connected to the worship of Dionysus in some way. His worshipers would tend to try to mimic Dionysus to show respect and homage to Him. This 'Purple man' sounds awfully close to a description I was given."

Bebe took a deep breath and peered closely at Andrew, who was hanging attentively on every word Bebe was speaking. "Now getting to the question at hand, if someone was struck with an unexplained madness in the area, then that would only justify some of my suspicions, and I have several. The biggest, of course, is that a follower of Dionysus is in the area."

"So," Bebe continued, talking as she rose from a sitting to standing position on the rock she was perched upon, which enabled her to see eye to eye with the villager better, "has there been any unexplained madness in the area that would help us in identifying the culprit or not? Remember, an unknown enemy is the most dangerous of all. All our lives may depend on it." Desperation seemed to seep into her voice as she recalled the recent demise of her friend, Jahar, and the most recent meeting with the murderous beast.

- Shelly (Bebe)

PBEM Orlantia: I Don't Think So.

Andrew kept shaking his head while Bebe explained, and then she asked again a question he had already answered, as if now the reply would be different.

"I've already told you, no one has gone insane recently, or ever that I can recall. And many here pay homage to Dionysus, at least in passing. Some even say a prayer and pour out a fine bottle of wine during the High Holy Day, as well as before the harvest, to ask for His blessings. Why not? It never hurts to pay tribute to the gods connected of one's profession or immediate needs. Lots of people do it."

Bebe knew lots of people did, indeed, do just that, about almost anything at any time to almost any god, no matter what god they worshiped most devoutly - if any. The gods above expected such tribute for their areas of control and influence, even from the casual worshipers. So while most held one god - for whatever reason - above all others, most also gave each god a nod at the appropriate time.

Again, Horton had been listening, and added his own thoughts on the matter.

"I don't think any one actually sanctioned by the God, Dionysus, would be this murderous, or set that cursed beast upon us," said Horton. "Even if the man in purple might have been a worshiper of Dionysus, he can't be working with His blessing if he's responsible for this atrocity. I just didn't get that 'feel' of him, to be honest, and I think you are heading down the wrong trail."

Bebe nodded, knowing she might be, but without more facts she couldn't be certain. In any event, it looked as if Andrew or Horton would be of no help to her theory of a mad worshipper of Dionysus.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: The Exodus.

By the time Sefarlain had found Afyanna, the villagers were assembled and beginning to leave. He watched the long procession with a strange mixture of relief and anxiety, certain this was as good an opportunity as the villagers would have to find refuge, and for that, the party could congratulate themselves. But no matter how positive he tried to remain, the shadow of the nightmare still hung over them all.

Once the long procession had disappeared from sight, Sef caught sight of Afyanna and walked slowly over to where she stood in the mouth of the cave. A few yards away, Bebe was talking to Andrew, and Horton had moved over to them to listen to what was being said.

*Well, not everyone has taken the chance to flee,* the elf thought to himself. He admired their courage in staying. Perhaps these humans had more fight in them than appeared at first glance.

"That was pretty rough out there," began the ranger. Nothing like an understatement, and Afyanna smiled at the joke, as slight as it was.

"I'm sorry I wasn't much use for a while," he continued. "Tyrulf has fixed me up pretty well. Did I miss anything? I guess we still have a horse to worry about."

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Into The Night.

The pale moonlight made the silent procession of townsfolk appear like a line of walking corpses. In truth, many were not so far from going to their graves, and this might be the last journey some of them took. Lack of food, sleep, and the fear for their lives had weakened the people of Joad to near-death. Most staggered, limped, or shuffled along; more than a few had to be helped by others in the line.

*'Except about the wine,' Baledun said. 'You know our livelihood depends on keeping the secret?'*

That phrase tumbled through Afyanna's mind again and again as she watched the townsfolk disappear out of sight.

*What secret?* she wondered. *Is it so important to put all these lives at risk?*

She knew should couldn't flat-out ask Horton or Baledun. At the same time, until she knew whether it was a threat to them all, could she reveal the secret to her comrades?

The holy warrior rarely, if ever, betrayed a secret, unless keeping it would harm others. A secret learned through subterfuge was even more sacrosanct in her mind.

*No,* she thought, *I can't reveal anything yet.*

Afyanna considered her options. If the town holds some secret that was so important that evil seeks it, and a god - her god - is roused to bring forth a champion in His name, then it is vital she learn what that secret is. With all but a few of the population evacuated, perhaps now would be the best time to investigate.

Afy reached up to the pendant dangling from her neck. *I must have faith that Larethian will lead me to the answer.*

After helping the townsfolk leave, the protectors of Joad found themselves standing together outside the caves.

"We still have half the night left," Afyanna said, turning to face the rest.

The sound of her voice drew them all back into the situation. It was easy to forget the reason the people were leaving when you were actively helping them leave.

"Tyrulf? Sefarlain?" she asked, garnering the attention of the two who had been most hurt. "I'd like you to take first watch, then get some rest. You two can use it," she added with a smile.

Normally, there might have been some good-natured banter about how they were ready for action right that minute, but it was clear that although their wounds were healed, they COULD use some rest.

Mystir had relayed some concerns to her two nights back regarding the watch rotation. No, not about the watches per se, but about how much rest the casters got to regain their spells. Afyanna addressed that next.

"Cosher and Mystir? Would you two take the watch after that?"

The both of them nodded, though Cosher's may have been from him fidgeting with his toasted beard.

"After that, I'm sure everyone can decide how to proceed."

Afyanna paused a moment to decide how best to make her next move. With Horton and a few of the remaining townspeople nearby and possibly listening, she had to seem natural.

"I'd like to make a quick trip back to the statue, now that we are a little closer to the Holy Day," she said.

*At least the statue is one place I want to see.*

A few glances greeted her, which she dissuaded with, "None of us should be alone, so Valin, would you come with me?"

"Uhm, ok," the rogue of Hermes replied.

"We should probably get as much rest as we can tonight. I'm sure tomorrow we'll have a lot to do to prepare for another night against that thing. We won't be long."

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Afy's Investigation.

Afyanna and Valin, both of deep religious dispositions, and thus both having common concerns and interests in the realm of the divine, shared some thoughts as they walked alone back into Joad. After all the time on the road together, Afy finally caught a better glimpse of the man than she had even seen before. He seemed more disposed to opening up in private than in a group, or perhaps he just trusted her more than the others.

Valin's natural talent was well suited to roguish pursuits, but his philosophical concerns were far deeper than most rogues would ever realize, and a strong calling to and affinity with his Lord, Hermes, had apparently found Valin later in life rather than sooner. His outward appearance was perhaps deceptive, then, as a man of god and cleric of Hermes, but under it all was a rascal, as wily as most rogues. But his sad, blue eyes spoke of past tragedies that the man carried with him and had obviously made him the man he had become.

Valin played with the silver fox clasp on his cloak as he told Afyanna of his past - how the man, Jordin, had murdered Valin's father, and how his family had escaped from their world, Ahlalandia, to Orlantia with the aid of Wynter, another cleric of Hermes who had shown Valin the light and Hermes' path of justice.

Valin was no common thief, it seemed, and seeking justice was of paramount importance to the man, which was almost unheard of in most rogues. And now he burned to help Afyanna on her quest for justice against the abomination of equinity.

Soon they arrived at the statue, The Holy Warrior of Wrath. It stood motionless, as before, gazing out over the square, the silver moonlight casting deep shadows on the statue's countenance.

"What do you hope to discover here?" Valin asked, wondering how to help her find what she sought.

"Nothing. Not until the Holy Day. I suspect if there is anything remarkable about this statue, it may only reveal itself then, so we'll have to wait for another two nights on that quarter. But that may be too late to help us. Yet there's something else that just doesn't feel right," she told him. "I simply wish to look around the town right now. You know, on the sly?" she asked him, making it clear what they might find, if anything, should be kept secret.

Valin nodded. He understood the need of secrecy, sometimes even from one's friends, as long as one wasn't endangering others by keeping such secrets.

"What are we looking for?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Part of my vision said, 'The crimson stain of blood is poor substitute for the rosé ambrosia of Wrath.' I guess that the rosé ambrosia means the wine. Blood is a poor substitute for wine. I'm not sure what it means. But let's look at the wineries," she said, "And let's be quick about it. We haven't much time. We'll also need our rest later," she reminded him.

As Sefarlain and Febriwyn had done earlier, now Afy and Valin examined the buildings, but this time they went about it with impunity, without fear of discovery or any great need of stealth since they knew the place was abandoned.

The town of Joad was set up for one purpose, she could tell - viniculture and vinification - growing grapes and making wine from them. Many buildings were dedicated to making and bottling wine. Wine presses, fermentation vats, bottling and storage, and other things probably related to wine making that Afy didn't know too much about. Other things existed around the town, but only for subsistence or support of the primary economic concern of wine making. The production facilities were huge. Such a town, along with the outlying vineyards, could supply entire kingdoms with wine. But they could find nothing especially unusual in all of it, though Afy admitted she might not know enough about the craft to notice any discrepancies or anomalies.

Several hours later, as the first watch was about to come to an end, Afy decided they had seen all they could see without being pointed in a more definite direction.

"Let's get back to the caves," she told Valin.

As they slowly walked back, Valin renewed telling of his stories of home and family. Nothing major was revealed, except he and his family were still in hiding on Orlantia for Jordin, yet the rest of it, however minor, gave Afy a better insight into Valin. When they finally approached the caves, Valin paused for a moment.

"That's funny," he said.

"What? Where?" Afy asked, very concerned as her eyes darted about the night, looking for danger, looking for the nightmare, her hand instinctively finding her sword's pommel.

"No, no, nothing like that," Valin explained. "It just occurred to me, for all the wine Joad can make, we really didn't see much wine in storage. Just that one warehouse, and it barely contained a small fraction of what must be their yearly production. Where's the rest of it?" he asked her.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Further Queries.

"I hadn't noticed that before," Afyanna told Valin. "But I think you're right."

Valin's expression made it clear that he knew he was correct.

While they walked toward the beach, Afyanna realized the next best place to look might be the caves themselves.

*But I'd attract too much attention,* she thought.

"I'll bet there's something in those caves," the rogue said suddenly.

"I was thinking the same thing," she agreed.

"Should we look in there too, then?" he asked.

"Horton and the others keep a pretty good eye on me," the holy warrior replied. "But perhaps you can slip away unnoticed and investigate them yourself."

"I can try," he accepted, with a sly grin.

"It seemed to me that Horton spent more time in one particular cave," Afy said, describing the cave where she had overheard the conversation, though she didn't actually mention the conversation. "I think that would be the best one to begin with."

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Dead End.

Later, Valin had the run of the cave system along the beach. Most smelled foul and of recent habitation, having just been abandoned by the villagers. Many were set up to hold livestock and beasts of burden. And that didn't help the smell any. Finally, makeshift toilet facilities, a butchery, and garbage heaps in the last cave reeked beyond belief. He could go no further in than half the time he could hold his breath, saving the other half for a hasty exit.

Of all the caves, he was surprised to find a blacksmith's operation in one of them. It was probably used to shoe horses and fix tools and such. But nothing else stood out. Even the cave where Horton, Andrew, and the other remaining villagers remained didn't seem unusual in any way.

Unfortunately, it quickly became clear to Valin that the beach cave system didn't hold any wine storage facilities. As he searched, it become more apparent to him the caves were too damp, small, irregular, and probably didn't have a decent year round temperature, perhaps varying wildly from day to day, let alone season to season. One didn't store wine in such a place. The beach caves would make terrible wine cellars.

Cellars. Yes, that was what he was looking for. Something underground, somewhere. Alas, the idea of looking for wine in the caves didn't pan out, and when opportunity arose to do so, he reported this to Afyanna. She seemed disappointed.

"Any other ideas?" he asked her.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Cellars.

"Cellars," Afyanna said. "I can't believe I didn't think of that sooner!"

Valin nodded in agreement. Looking back it did seem obvious.

"Well, it's too late to do any more tonight," the holy warrior admitted. Her expression changed then as she took the thought forward. "Tomorrow will be a busy day while we plan for the night."

"And the night will bring that thing," Valin added.

"Tomorrow it will have to be then," she said. "We'll have to find a way to do some exploring tomorrow."

"Yes, without being caught," he agreed. "But where?"

"Hmmm. My first instinct would be someplace near to the production areas," she thought aloud.

Valin nodded. "That would make sense. If they are filling barrels, then they won't have far to move them."

"Exactly. Also, if it is a secret from more than just the outside, then the closer, the better."

"Good point," the rogue replied.

"Then again, what if the secret is not in barrels?" Afyanna wondered. "What if it is bottled?"

"Smaller packages mean easier to transport and hide." Valin scratched his chin absently, having not shaved in a day. "Yeah, that opens up a lot more possibilities."

"Whatever it is could be hidden in someone's house then," Afy said. "In their own cellar."

"Who's?" Valin asked. "Horton's?"

"I would think so. Either his house or maybe even Andrew's"

Valin stopped for a second. "Why his?"

"Dunno really. But he has been agitated from the moment we arrived."

"Well, yeah but . . ."

Afyanna cut him off. "Yeah, he, well everyone, has PLENTY to be agitated over, I know."

The two stood in the silence of the cave a few moments. Periodically the halfelf would consciously stop to listen to ensure no one did to her what she had done to Horton and Baledun - albeit accidentally. After certain she and Valin were alone and no one could overhear them, she went on.

"I was also thinking of another possibility," Afy said.

Valin didn't reply, but just gestured as if to say 'Yes?'

"What if 'blood is a poor substitute for wine' implies that there is something wrong with the ground. Sort of 'before' the wine is made, not after, like we've suspected?"

"I'm not sure I follow you," he said.

"I'm just thinking out loud," she admitted. "But what if, instead of adding something to the wine in the vats, what if something is being poured into the vineyards?"

Valin crinkled his nose in disgust. "What? Blood?"

Afyanna merely shrugged.

The rogue thought for a moment then shook his head. "I don't know, but I doubt that's it. Think of how easy that might be to discover just by people who work in town."

"You're probably right," Afyanna agreed. "I was just trying to think of all the possibilities."

"Besides, even if it was, wouldn't we still have to find out what is being hidden - why there is a lot more production capability than storage?"

"True enough," she agreed. "I think our best course then is to check Horton's house tomorrow. We've already looked at the actual wine areas so I think we can leave those for now."

Valin seemed to agree with her assessment.

"Ok then, let's both get some rest. Our watches will be up soon."

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: First Watch

Sefarlain huddled deeper into his cloak as the small fire he had lit dwindled lower and lower. He could barely make out his dwarven companion's nose peering out from the cowl pulled right over his head in the low light, but in truth the weather seemed a lot less bitter than in previous nights. The ranger thought he could even smell the first faint hints of moisture on the breeze; could that mean rain? It could be hard sometimes, to predict the weather, but Sefarlain was probably better than most. Not for the first time he thanked his gods for the Valantaúr cloak he wore; it would keep the worst of the rain out for a good few hours at least, if it came at all.

His thoughts drifted back to a few hours earlier. Afyanna had described the fight briefly before she left for Joad, and Sef now realized how much he owed his life to Tyrulf; he was glad of the opportunity to talk some more to the dwarf.

"Could be rain tonight, Tyrulf," he offered.

Not a natural talker compared to Cosher, perhaps, but having scant knowledge of dwarfs and their ways, Sef did not want to offend by his ignorance. He had found it so much easier to talk to Wyn on the scouting expedition; they had so much shared background that reference points were shared and assumed. Afyanna and Alana were similar in many respects, having some degree of elven blood, and at least time spent on the trade routes had introduced the young elf to the sailor's way of life so that he could understand Cosher occasionally. But when it came to dwarves in general, there was a lot Sefarlain had to learn, he knew. A few visited the port in Peric from time to time, but as they weren't allowed any further than the port itself, most of the locals having little to do with them. Besides, those sailors didn't always have the best reputation in town, and he had been told it was often best to leave them to themselves in Peric.

"Thank you for your help earlier, my friend," he continued. "That was powerful magic you offered. Your god must smile on you often with such skill at your disposal."

Tyrulf smiled at the compliment.

"Boccob is indeed gracious, but he smiles on all who are prepared to learn. You seem to know a little about what He offers - have you studied also?"

The arcane seemed to be one thing that the two hunched figures shared a passion for, and they talked long into the watch about Sefarlain's early attempts at controlling the powerful forces of the Arcane. Sef found himself talking for a long time about his mother who first showed him a few silly tricks when he was a child, and how that had fascinated him for hours. The elf had not mentioned his mother to anyone for such a long time that he found the chance a welcome one. Tyrulf listened patiently as the ranger talked about her untimely death and the void that she had left in his life.

"You are lucky, my friend, to have even known your mother. Some do not get even that opportunity."

Tyrulf's comment was accompanied by a pained look, and he turned his face from the fire.

"I'm sorry, Ty. I forgot that. But maybe after all this is over, we may get a chance to change that too. Your mother may at least still be alive."

The dwarf turned back and looked for a time at the elf. Once this was over? Who knew if they would survive this anyway? But the thought was a welcome one and he thanked Sef all the same.

"I guess we had better get some rest now, Sef. It's time for the others to take over. But maybe I could show you some of Boccob's ways some time. You would be a good disciple."

"I'd like that," the ranger replied, "but my bed roll is calling now. Let's see what the morning brings."

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: When Morning Comes.

Restless and nervous as they were, the watches passed into the night, and slowly the eastern sky began to lose its coal like quality for that of gray slate. The stars and moons couldn't be seen toward morning, and the brightening day revealed why when all could see an overcast gray blanket of clouds stretching from horizon to horizon.

"It's hard to believe," Sefarlain said, "but it looks like it might rain. Have you noticed it got much warmer during the night? Incredible. No one would believe we were dying in a blizzard only five days ago."

"At least it might make the villager's trek more tolerable," Valin said. "I hope they're all right."

Alana was busily preparing breakfast while spellcasters pored over their tomes or prayed to their lords. The morning rituals of the camp were becoming routine.

Valin, as soon as he could, caught Afy alone for a moment. Looking around and making sure they were alone, he spoke to her about his thoughts during the night.

"Afyanna, even if we find this wine, what then? I doubt any blood rituals they perform would be obvious simply by looking at their store of wine, and that's assuming they do anything like that at all, which I'm not sure is a good assumption."

"Your vision suggests to me your lord simply might wish you to protect and save these people, perhaps to ensure the wine flows instead of their blood, which is certainly what is happening to them with that nightmare attacking them all winter long. After all, why would He send you, or even the other one," he said nodding his head toward town, obviously referring to the previous holy warrior, "if these people were unworthy or underhanded in some way?"

"I mean, I agree there seems to be some secret, some mystery here about the wine. How it is made, stored, or who knows, there is something going on here, but Horton probably thinks it has nothing to do with the nightmare, and he's not stupid. Otherwise, do you think he'd risk so many lives if he honestly thought revealing such a secret important to stopping the beast? And do you think your lord would send you to aid him then? I only ask since, well . . . that wine could be ANYWHERE, and in this town, it could take months to find it if it's well hidden. Any secret door or trap door, anything at all, could conceal it for a lot longer than we have to look for it. Right now, you're just guessing where it might be. If you really think it's worth our time to hunt for it, then I suggest we bring everybody in on it. Sef's tracking skills, I'd wager, would be better suited to finding such a trail than mine would be at finding a secret door without even knowing about where to look," he said, scratching his chin.

"Or maybe you should just ask Horton straight out where all the wine is hiding? Why are we being so secretive, anyway?" he wondered.

Afyanna alone still knew why, or thought she might know. The secret of Joad, of Wrath, of the wine, greatly concerned the village elders, and they had done much to keep it, even in light of the horrible assaults of the nightmare. One had intimated their very livelihood depended on keeping the secret. If she forced it out into the open, she might risk destroying what she was sent to save.

But she couldn't tell Valin that without confiding in him and revealing what she had overheard, and now he was forcing the issue. Should she tell him? Should she tell the others? After more than one person knew a secret, she had once been told, soon everyone might know it, and you had better count on it.

Afy silently cursed her ignorance and tried to make a decision.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Waiting Game.

The inviting smell of Alana's breakfast wafted out of the cave entrance and tickled Cosher's nose as he sat alone, scouring the morning sky. Although most of his companions were fairly confident that the nightmare wouldn't be back to trouble them until much later that day, Cosher felt it hard to properly relax.

He sat on one of the larger rocks not far from the cave, Sliobhann resting across his lap, an oily rag in one hand. It was foolish he knew it, but since the last encounter with the nightmare, he would need to do everything in his power to give his saber an edge. Barring an actual enchantment, all the bard could do was give the blade a thorough polish and shine. In fact, he had been polishing it for so long now he was convinced it would be a short sword by lunch.

Again, the smell of freshly cooking breakfast reached the young dwarf. That, and the fresh smell of the water laden lake air transported Cosher to an entirely different place. Bal-Linaghmore seemed a long way away right now, and the memory of Anne-Marie, his one-time sweetheart and erstwhile proprietor of The Porthole - an establishment famed throughout his homeland as serving the best northern stout and the heartiest cooked breakfast - made him wistful and just slightly homesick.

Cosher smiled to himself and shrugged his shoulders.

*Pull yersel' together, Cosh me-lad!* the dwarf remonstrated. *Ye've no been adventuring fer five minutes and yer already moanin'! Ye signed oop for this lark, so tae speak, an' yer damn well goin' tae make the most o' it. Come on, get that blade gleamin' and make sure the next time ye see that beastie that it gets the full brunt o' Sliobhann's wrath, eh?*

Again, Cosher chuckled. Oh well, at least he could feel the bite of the sea air around his legs again. It was the first time in many days now that he had been able to dress in his ogha - his traditional clan tartan kilt - and parade his 'stumps', as he affectionately liked to call them. It certainly did feel good, and he felt like a warrior now!

*Ha, let thon beastie come then! Yin sight o' these beauties an' it'll surely flee back tae the pits o' hell that spawned it! Nae question.* The dwarf laughed out loud, and to anyone looking on, it must surely seem that he had finally gone mad.

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia: A Different Tact.

Afyanna nodded as Valin expressed his concerns. The holy warrior still felt there was much more going on here than she had let on, and she was not about to change that now.

"You're probably right, Valin. The two things are most likely not related and shouldn't worry us further - well me, anyway" she added with a chuckle. " I very much appreciate you helping me in this."

The rogue left her then, and she pondered the situation.

*Unless Horton himself is involved with doing something to this town, then Valin is correct. Would he knowingly bring destruction and death to his own people for something unrelated?*

The halfelf walked idly through the cave, moving bits of dirt with her booted toe as she did.

*No, I have to believe that knowing whatever they are hiding is crucial to this. That beast did not just go town-to-town killing, it came HERE and it has stayed here. So Joad is the key to this.*

She walked farther in, the damp, musty smell of people living in close proximity growing ever heavier the farther back from the entrance she went. Her mind continued to work the problems she faced. She was missing something. Something obvious.

The back of the cave opened up before her. It was only slightly larger than the passageway itself, but it served as one of the many living quarters for the townsfolk as of late. A few of the people too weak to leave with the rest looked up at her from the bedrolls they slept on.

Afyanna moved over to them, slipping into her former role as a temple apprentice without thought. She moved from one to the next, offering soft words and doing what she could to keep them comfortable.

Engaging each of them in a conversation, she took their minds from the current trouble. After days of seeing and talking to the same people, the remaining townsfolk seemed glad to have someone new to talk to.

They talked of how things had been in Joad, fishing in the lake, and of course the town's main industry - wine making, before the beast arrived. On the subject of wine, the people seemed more guarded, their eyes occasionally flicking toward Horton, who seemed to always be around.

*There may be something to this.*

Afy kept the conversation light and steered away from the subject since she could see it put the people off their ease.

*Of course!* she realized. *The people work the vineyards, the vats, and move the wine. They would know where it is kept and if anything seemed unusual.*

Afyanna filed this away for the time being. With Horton around it didn't seem as though she would be able to ask her questions there or then. However, if the time came, she would be more prepared.

With the sick people more calm, Afy sought out her comrades to prepare for the day.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: The Cold Light Of Day.

If he hadn't rested that well the previous night, Sefarlain certainly made up for it the day after. The time after the watch had passed quickly and he found himself feeling refreshed and alert the following morning. He had been particularly pleased to note his prediction on the weather had been fairly accurate, although the rain had not quite arrived as yet.

As the party settled down for some breakfast, he pondered what to do now that daylight was upon them.

"I might have a look around the town this morning, Wyn," he explained in between mouthfuls of bread. "I've never had chance to look closely at the statue or the town in daylight. Does anyone else want to come this morning? I'll be back by lunchtime."

With that, he looked at the rest of the group, awaiting their answer.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: The Bottle.

Bebe, Mystir, and Alana agreed to join Sefarlain on his walk about Joad. The others remained near the cave, knowing full well they'd need their strength when night came again and brought the nightmare with it.

The thick clouds gave the day a hazy appearance in the distance, and though rain threatened to fall, it ultimately refused to give up its elevated purchase, the updrafts greedily hanging onto the moisture for the time being.

It did not take too long to reach the statue, but nothing else was revealed by their examinations. Then suddenly, Bebe was instantly alerted when Brambles froze and looked into the distance. Something had caught the wolf's eye.

"What is it, girl? What do you see?" Brambles did not move. "Get it, then!" Bebe commanded her companion. With that, the she wolf bounded forth toward the trees. Bebe, and shortly after all others, ran after the wolf.

Unlike a dog, Brambles did not incessantly bark at her quarry, but approached with surprising speed and stealth. Then she disappeared into the stand of trees.

"RRRROOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!" came a cry of surprise from the woods. Several steps behind, it took a moment longer for the others to catch up with Brambles. Near a tree, she seemed to be dancing happily at her success at having treed something.

Looking up, all could see a silent, thoroughly displeased looking cat glowering down at the wolf.

"Lucian!" Alana cried.

Brambles yipped happily and pranced about the tree's trunk, almost laughing.

"Phssssssssssssssss!" Lucian said.

Bebe got control of Brambles and told her to calm down. "Relax, girl, down girl. Well done, though," she said, patting her side.

"Oh Lucian, I was so worried. Come down here," Alana ordered, offering her back as an intermediary step. The cat obliged, now that that wolf was in hand, and leapt to Alana's back and then continued to the ground in a second, effortless bounce.

"Mrrrrrreeooowww?" he asked. No one knew what that meant, however, so they ignored it.

"Where have you been, you silly cat?" Alana softly chided her friend, though her exuberance washed away any anger.

As if to answer her, the cat batted at an empty, muddy bottle in the mucky leaves. It had been tossed aside quite some time back. Not years, Sef could tell picking it up, but prior to last winter. He looked at it.

'Clark's Cabernet' the label read. It also bore the year 675 A.E.

"Hmm, fifty-three years old," Sef commented after doing the math in his head. He looked at Lucian wondering if it meant something, or if it was just something a stupid cat would do. But he recalled that Lucian had found the sinkhole that had saved them all, and Alana said the cat was unusually smart.

"What about it?" he asked the cat.

"Mrrrrrreeooowww," Lucian explained.

*Damn!* he thought. * I don't speak Cateneese,* making up a word he had never heard before. He knew if Lucian knew something, he wasn't going to get at it by asking the cat questions. He felt foolish for having tried.

"What's that?" Bebe asked.

"What?" Sef wanted to know. Bebe pointed at a small sticker near the bottom. Sef had taken it for a leaf, but he rubbed it and saw it for what it was.

"A sticker of some kind. 'Elmer's Imports, Alodar,'" he read it aloud. "Oh, this bottle was sold in Alodar," he said.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: Joyous Reunion.

Alana was absolutely elated to have Lucian back. She had somehow managed to banish her worries about him to the background, especially in view of the need to defeat the nightmare, but nevertheless they had been there all the time.

Now she didn't even care that her Create Water spell hadn't had the effect she so fervently had hoped it would. The accursed nightmare hadn't even blinked an eye, but that didn't seem to matter at all, now that Lucian was back.

At first she listened only half to Sef's comments on the bottle. She was just too busy being happy. But she did catch the fact that bottle had been sold in Alodar. She glanced at the label.

"Clark's Cabernet. Isn't that wine they make here?" Alana said. "That's rather odd. Why would you go all the way to Alodar to buy some wine that was produced right here?"

"Or perhaps someone from Alodar has been visiting here. Still, rather strange to bring it all the way back here." Alana shrugged.

"I think people ought to pay more attention to what they do with the stuff they discard." This was a subject she had rather strong feelings about. Most people started rolling their eyes when she repeated it to often. Still, it was something that annoyed her very much - the way some people just dumped anything they didn't need anymore without a second thought about what it did to their environment.

- Wilma (Alana)

PBEM Orlantia: Restless.

A gust of wind whipped overtop a rocky ledge, knocking a length heavy material over the edge. Gravity and the continued push of the wind slowly, but with quickening speed, begin to pull the rest of the material over the edge. Just as all seemed lost for the thick cloth, the material pulled taunt. Only the clasp about the young elf's throat prevented the cloak, now flowing atop unpredictable winds, from flying away.

Distant elven eyes quickly came into focus as a particularly strong gust of wind resulted in a sharp crack from an impact of the cloak against rock that left tiny stones and debris tumbling beachward.

He'd been up there most of the day, just sitting and thinking about his mother. Her song, immortalized and perfected through the wiles of a youth's memory, echoed through his mind. The song had always helped him relax when preparing, and his father had taught him that the deadliest of warriors were calmest just before combat.

A smile flicked across the wind-chilled elven features at a fond memory of his father sparring with him. While his father would never be the equal of Kelson - one of the finest swordsmen Febriwyn had ever seen - he'd been more than the younger elf's match. They'd spent dozens of hours working on his skill with the sword the last pholar before he left, and he regarded those memories as both his most cherished and most . . . feared. Indeed, he could admit it to himself now, the memories still instilled a deep sense of dread when the thoughts turned inevitably towards the days he had parted company with his clan.

- Brandon (Febriwyn)

PBEM Orlantia: Another Day, Another Plan.

Afyanna sat with Cosher and Valin around the morning's fire. Alana had whipped up yet another good breakfast from nothing more than nuts, twigs, and berries as far as Afy could tell. Alana and the rest of the party had departed before the others had finished their morning meal and Afyanna wasn't sure where they went, but she knew they'd be back by nightfall.

"I think we did pretty well on the beach last night," she said.

"So do Ah," agreed Cosher. "Ah think that the beastie was surprised tae see us," he added with his trademark chuckle.

Afyanna nodded. "I got quite a surprise myself."

"How so?" asked Valin.

"We set up the spikes expecting it to come from certain directions - which it did. But on its second pass, it came in from our unprotected flank. That's when it hurt us."

"He does seem tae be a smart critter," Cosh said.

Tyrulf understood where this was heading. "We need to change tactics for tonight then."

"Exactly," Afyanna said. "We need to find an area where it can only approach from one direction. Preferably a place with an overhead."

The three of them mulled over possibilities for a few minutes. The caves were too confining and the nightmare rarely approached them. The town itself would restrict the creature's movement, but so too would it slow down the defenders as they ran amongst the buildings. Finally, Afyanna realized the woods would be their best bet.

"If we set up at the edge of the tree line, the clearest approach for the nightmare would be from the open side."

"But it could still come from the forest side too," Valin said. "The trees are not quite that thick."

Afyanna nodded. "True, but its movement would be far more restricted than ours. It wouldn't be able to reach a full gallop."

They went over the possibilities while they finished their meal. They could set up the spikes as they did the night before, only at the edge of the tree line, and reduce the number of pits from six to perhaps two to further restrict the nightmare's possible approaches. Further, by reducing the number of defensive positions, they could increase the number of spikes used around each one to make them thicker and more plentiful. The defensive positions could be more thought out on this night, as they already had the spikes made. All they had to do was dig them up and move them.

The three of them continued to refine their plan. When breakfast was done and the others had not yet returned, Tyrulf, Cosher, Valin, and Afyanna set out along the beach and around town to find a suitable spot to set up the positions. The trees needed to be fairly thick both behind and above, the approach needed to be fairly open, and most importantly, it had to be suitably alluring to the nightmare to make it want to attack from the avenue given it. Before long, she found almost exactly what she was looking for. Then they returned to camp to await the others.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Exports.

The small scouting party Sef had put together didn't stay long in town. In fact, they were back before the others had cleaned up after breakfast.

With Lucian's discovery came naught but questions to Sef's mind, and he wanted answers he ultimately felt would most expediently come from Horton. But before he could ask anything, Afyanna laid out her new plan while all were engaged in cleaning up after the meal.

"And we've found a pretty good spot, I think, where we might shift our defenses," Afy told everyone.

Bebe, for one, didn't seem to like the plan, but she knew she was not party leader and so decided to keep her reservations to herself for the time being. Instead, she slipped out of the camp and back into town, Brambles dutifully following her, the gnome having decided to look around on her own for a few more hours before returning to camp. She really wanted to find a library of some kind.

After Afy had explained her plan and Bebe had gone, Sef decided it was time to get some answers before anything else was done. Confronting the town elder, Sef just showed him the bottle, wanting to carefully gauge his reaction.

"A cabernet," Horton said. Sef just gave him a look, as if to clearly say he knew there must be more to it than that. Horton sighed. "Clark's Cabernet, in fact. You know, Andrew's family label," he said, matter-of-factly. "Andrew Clark," he added, nodding toward Andrew who was still back in the cave with the remaining villagers, just to make sure Sef understood who 'Clark' was.

"No," the ranger said, turning the bottle and making the 'Elmer's Import' sticker the most prominent and forward feature. "This," Sef said.

"Ah. Yes. Well . . . yes. Obviously it's one of the bottles we exported to Alodar for sale. That's what we do, you know? We make and sell and export wine."

It became clear to Sef, as the other party members all gathered around to listen, that he'd have to ask more direct questions. Everyone else just listened.

"If this was exported to Alodar, what's it doing back here in Joad?" Sef demanded.

Horton looked genuinely puzzled, and rubbing his face in thought for a moment, he said, "Oh! I bet that man in purple brought it with him," he offered, taking the bottle from Sef. "A 75," he said. "Yes, that was good year for cabernet. A very good year, in fact. I suspect the man in purple brought it with him from Alodar, and it may be why he was so interested in our wines. After all, if he tried it and found its vintage poor, why would he come here seeking the secret of bad wine?" Horton chuckled.

That all seemed to make sense to Sef, and would tend to explain most of his questions. The bottle had apparently been discarded sometime last fall, before the winter snow had covered it amid the leaves. Yes, that part all made sense. But what else was on his mind? Something nagged at him that he couldn't quite put into words.

*Maybe if I knew more about the wine trade, some questions would present themselves,* he thought.

"Tell me a little more about how business is done in Joad," Sef said to Horton. The elder didn't seem reluctant, and so began a brief description of the overall trade.

"Well, we obviously grow grapes of many varieties in and around Joad. Most families specialize in one or two grapes, like Clark's family grows the cabernet sauvignon black grape, though it's really so deep a red that it only appears black, or so they tell me. The cabernet itself is a deep red wine, you see. Of course, Clark's family holdings are the largest and most extensive in all of Joad, so they produce far more than just cabernet wines - fine clarets, excellent rosés, marvelous chardonnays, and a few others. Each family's label specializes in a few grapes and may thus produce a unique blend of the grapes they grow, so each is distinctive enough such that connoisseurs can identify wines with remarkable precision, right down to the year and vineyard of origin, sometimes. And, by working collectively, all of Joad has more opportunities to mix and match and blend our grape's juices to make some truly outstanding choices. Like I said, a connoisseur might identify any unique wine or year, but this comes from vast experience from having tried them all before and remembering them, of course. The man in purple didn't seem to have this talent of identification, nor such a sophisticated palette, but he could tell a great wine when he tasted it, even if not its origin. And, well, a cabernet 75 is a great wine," Horton said. "Any decent wine shop in Alodar could have told him where it came from." He smiled for a moment and then went on.

"Of course what truly makes a good wine great is the aging process. A good cabernet in 675 becomes a great cabernet in twenty years or so, and possibly a fantastic, once in a lifetime experience if you can find a bottle that's 50 years or older. Nevertheless, some years are better than others, no matter how the wine is aged, since those years produced better grapes. Like many other trades, we too are at the mercy of the weather." Horton wasn't sure he was giving Sef what he wanted, so he tried another angle.

"As for exporting wine, well, that's what we do. The collective of Joad buys all family wines of merit, and we can command a better price as a unified exporter, so the collective then sells the wines. Several times each year, we ship them north or south, and through various merchants they eventually find their way to other cities. Alodar imports a lot of wine. In fact, many would say Alodar isn't just the capital of the Alodarian Empire, but the very heart of Orlantian culture and sophistication and wealth. You can find nearly anything in Alodar. Wines from Joad, of course, are highly sought since we make a fine wine, so I fail to see any mystery."

Horton stopped then and looked at the bottle, seeming to realize he might be rambling or not answering any of Sef's questions. He paused and looked back at everyone, as if waiting for some more questions from Sef or the others.

- JimGM.