From: morpheus@sage.cc.purdue.edu (Morpheus Nosferatu)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp
Subject: STORY: Hawn Ambrosius, part 24
Date: 17 Apr 92 00:52:26 GMT
Article-I.D.: mentor.45842
Organization: Netherworld Dreamscape



			       -- 1/4/6068 --

     Dwarkin, Tibulus, and the rest of their company of travellers gladly
shed their heavy winter clothes, warming themselves by the fire which had
been lit on the hearth.  The room was one of the larger guest rooms in the
Temple of Poseidon at Arinius, but it was still cramped with all eight of
them in the sitting room shedding their outer clothes.	Several bedchambers
were positioned off to either side of the sitting room, and they found
their rooms more than amply comfortably.  After a month of sleeping in the
freezing outdoors, a cot and a warm room were like paradise.
     After having given his guests time to settle in from their long
journey, High Priest Belophor joined them in the sitting room.	"Greetings,
my friends.  How went your venture in the Yurndale forest?"
     "Most successful," grinned Dwarkin.  "The evil has been purged from
the woods, and I doubt that the demons are likely to use it as a staging
ground for their armies now.  Have you any news of the coming war?"
     The High Priest sighed.  "What little I know is not encouraging, and
what I do not know is depressing, for our normal lines of communication
have been completely disrupted with our inability to channel any of
Poseidon's power.  It prevents us from easily communicating with any of our
other temples throughout the land.
     "Whatever is blocking Poseidon's power prevents us from keeping an eye
on the world.  We only have the assistance of a number of mages whom we
have employed to do this for us.  What little they have seen by their
arcane means tells us that in many remote areas of the world groups of
those who serve evil are slowly gathering, impeded only by the foul
weather.
     "There are countless tales of bandits striking the rare travellers and
of small villages strangely disappearing, one day being normal, and the
next with not a person in them and with no trace of what happened to their
inhabitants."
     "Could they be conscripts in the armies of darkness?" considered
Torina.
     Belophor frowned sadly.  "It may be possible, but I cannot believe
that anyone would subject themselves to such a fate without putting up a
fight, and there has been no trace of any struggles in these empty
villages.  And even then, I should think that some would try to escape, and
there are no tales of this sort which we have heard."
     "There are ways of magical compulsion," offered Tibulus, unpleasant
memories running through his mind.  "And then, since we are dealing with
demons and their vicious servants, I would not be surprised to hear that
those who have disappeared have been slain, and their bodies animated to
form legions of the walking dead."
     "Let us pray that it is not so."  Despite Belophor's dislike of such
thoughts, they rung all too true when discussing the forces of darkness.
     From where he stood next to the windows overlooking Arinius, Graynyr
inquired, "Has there been any fighting in the city?  I see smoke rising
from the waterfront."
     "Ah, that.  No.  From what I've heard, three warehouses were set afire
early this morning, but for what reason we have not been able to ascertain.
It might only be chance, but I've sent some people to investigate them to
be certain."
     "You think the dire forces of the underworld would be so bold as to
strike here in the city?" Gael put to the High Priest.  Arinius, being one
of the largest cities of the world, was hardly the place for demons to
casually walk, considering the number of temples dedicated to the gods and
the power of many of its residents.
     Able to guess her thoughts, Belophor shook his head gloomily.  "The
power of our gods is no longer with us...  Or many of us," he hastened to
add, knowing that Gael was one of only a handful of priests who were still
able to channel the powers of the patron deities.
     "It has been learned," he informed her, "that there are a few others
who are still able to call upon the powers of the gods.  One, it would
seem, to each of the gods.  And you are the selected one of Poseidon!"  The
elderly man clasped Gael's hands like a proud father.
     "I only hope I am worthy of that honor."  Gael had her doubts about
that, though was joyed nonetheless.  She had not been exceptional in her
service to the god of the seas, despite having grow up amongst the priests
of Poseidon after her village had been murdered.  Indeed, she had not been
all that good at channelling Poseidon's powers until she had met Hawn.
     "You have already proved that you are," Belophor assured her.  "The
actions of you and your companions speak of great deeds yet to be
performed."  At that, the elderly High Priest became silent for a moment,
his gaze shifting to the distance beyond the window before speaking again.
     "But I wonder if you might not be willing to undertake a voyage for
the temple.  Far to the north there is a chateau where sages, priests, and
wizards have for centuries been studying the planes of existence.  It is a
place named Tanalore.  Tanalore is the greatest repository of knowledge in
the world relating to the study of the multiverse.
     "It is for that reason that we must communicate with the wise men of
Tanalore.  And yet we have failed to contact anyone there with our limited
magical means, so I am preparing to send a ship.  Their knowledge will be
invaluable in determining how to deal with this new Demon War.	They will
be able to shed light on the methods the demons will use in entering our
world, if anyone can.  And if there is a way to counter the planar
conjunction which will allow the demons access to our world, then those at
Tanalore will know of it."
     "Why so remote a location?" Dwarkin asked of the High Priest.  "There
is nothing in the far north except icy wastes and a few barbarians."
     "That was precisely the reason Tanalore is so in such a remote
location.  When studying the other planes of the multiverse, there is
always the risk of opening a rift between the planes.  Should they create a
rift between our world and another, or unleash some powerful monster, they
want it to occur in the middle of nowhere, that there will be little chance
of affecting the more populated areas of the world."
     "Most reasonable," commented Arahna, even though she disliked the idea
of having a place of great learning located in such a remote location.	She
had been raised to believe that knowledge should be free to anyone who
needs it.  Of late, however, she had learned the wisdom of keeping some
forms of knowledge under lock and key, as Vastor had so well proven.
     Then, considering the weather they had been travelling through, she
asked, "But is it safe for a ship to sail at this time of year, with the
weather as it is?"
     "Ordinarily, I would be insulted by such a comment," observed the High
Priest of Poseidon.  "But with things as they are, I cannot say.  However,
as it is necessary to contact Tanalore, the ship must sail, whatever the
weather.  I hope you will go on this voyage for me, especially since you
will also need to know what is learned from the sages at Tanalore."
     "Too true."  Tibulus had grown to hate travelling in bad weather,
especially ships in stormy weather.  He would rather duel a storm giant
than battle sea sickness.  His sword was proof against one, but not the
other.	"But that is indeed knowledge we must have.  I say we go and seek
out these men of learning."  And he had been looking forward to thawing out
his bones in front of a nice warm fire.  Ships and fires did not go well
together.
     The others agreed with the bard, some more reluctantly than others.
Kasendra agreed with her old friend's unspoken words, wishing right now for
a warm halfling burrow and a cozy little fire.	Arahna, on the other hand,
was most eager to seek out this place of eldritch wisdom, enlightenment
always serving to warm her heart.
     When they had agreed, Belophor added, "Then I must apologize that my
hospitality will need to be cut short, for the ship will sail on the
morrow, or the day after at the latest."
     Tibulus sighed inwardly.  At least he would have one night in a clean,
warm bed.

/----------------------------------------+--------------------------------\
| Jeff Standish, Dreamwalker, and        |  morpheus@sage.cc.purdue.edu   |
| Morpheus Nosaferatu, The Dream Vampyre | standish@mentor.cc.purdue.edu  |
| Too many minds trapped in one body.    |      Reality is for those      |
| And it would be a human one, at that.  |    who can't handle fantasy.   |
\----------------------------------------+--------------------------------/
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp,rec.games.rpg