Update Archive/38

The elven magus attained an impassive air, and locked eye contact with Van Dam. He betrayed no disposition and his words were straight to the point.
"It isn't my choice whether I can tell you what I am a part of or not."
Van Dam only sighed, having expected as much. Still, the game was not yet over with this one.
"So how am I to help you? How do you know so much about Ravenholdt, good elf?"
Relfthra folded his arms under his heavy robes and smiled.
"For a secret organization, your former Grand Master Krol made little effort when it came to keeping his deeds under the table." the elf said boldly. "I work as a link in a circle of power that is normally free of petty politics, and that is all that you need to know."
Van Dam raised an eyebrow, careful not to betray emotion either. The game was not lost with this one yet.
"So why do you ask me for help? Sounds like you've got it all worked out."
Relfthra shook his head. Obviously, if that was the case he would not have come. Van Dam waited for him to speak, and he did.
"Grand Master, we have power, but we are not assassins. We believe that your talents could help us make our abilities more... relevant."
Now this was not the first time that Van Dam had heard something to this effect. Employment in Ravenholdt was not just all about killing. Business could be about protection, or about transportation too. Perhaps this elf wanted transportation.
"Do you want transportation?"
"Yes." Relfthra replied. "Sort of. Or rather, we need you to divert attention from our operations. Get our agents into places where they can work their magic; quite literally at that. The pagan presence has grown over the years, and with living gods against the Light, our talents will be more than necessary. I doubt your daggers will be of much use against the Divine, Grand Master."
One thing came to Van Dam's mind at that point. If they were both interested in stopping the pagan threat, then perhaps the Grand Admiral of Kul Tiras and even his freakish father could be appropriate targets to propose in a joint operation. Within a few hours, perhaps.
----
It was only a few days before Harold Potter returned to Jin'thek, claiming that the elves had granted him an audience, and that he would act as the guide to lead the trolls to the sacred haven of the druids.
Aboard small wooden boats, the special contingent of bulky trolls under Jin'thek's direct command began rowing across Darrowmere Lake one calm morning. Darrowmere's clear waters stretched out before them, and the canopies of trees loomed on either side along the golden beaches. This was a lake of natural beauty; beauty that most likely originated from the looming island of Caer Darrow.
The druidic order there had broken off from society not long after the founding of Quel'Thalas by Dath'Remar Sunstrider. Jin'thek did not know the true details behind the history of these elves, but for as long as any troll lore could detail, the druids had always lived here. Legend spoke of their magical runestone, protecting the lands around them.
Jin'thek had heard many stories, some which he believed, and others which he did not. If one thing was certain in his mind, however, was that these elves were different. He hoped that he would not be wrong. He massaged his arms wearily, feeling burning pain in his limbs at increasing intervals ever since Hakkar had given him the curse of corrupted blood. Jin'thek knew that he was growing weaker, and that soon, the full effects of the spell would begin to make themselves manifest. That was what Gruc'jen had warned.
Harold Potter, remained as calm as possible as Jin'thek's hunters held him. The boats drew alongside Caer Darrow at last, and Harold directed them to beach at the northern shore. Stepping out of the boats onto the gentle slopes of the island, Jin'thek could not shake off the feeling that he was being watched.
"Tell me Potta', where are the druids now?"
Harold smoothed himself out and knelt down to wash his hands and face in a stream leading into the lake. He turned to Jin'thek wearily, eyes red from lack of sleep.
"They're inland, atop the peak in the centre of the island. They live in the caves there, and in the groves around their runestone."
"We waste no time." Jin'thek called out, to ensure that all of his companions heard him. "Take me to dem."
The poor human shrugged, never turning his suspicious gaze away from Jin'thek.
"Fine. This way. If we follow the stream, it comes down from the peak."
It took a couple of hours, but soon the trolls found themselves at the slopes of the peak. Lush forests thrived around them. The trees here were very different from the pines of Zul'Aman, Jin'thek noted. Perhaps he would take some seeds back home. Gruc'jen would enjoy studying them.
A small pathway wound up into the hills and up to the top of the peak, and Jin'thek nudged Harold on to lead them. It was clear that they were all nervous; years of mistrusting elves had made every troll in the party ready for any ambush. Hands were never far from axes that day.
Then, the trolls trained ears heard movement; the brushing of leaves in a fashion which did not respond to the wind. Jin'thek turned around, immediately facing a couple of hooded figures. Hoods hid their faces, but blue eyes shone from under them.
"What brings Amani into the realm of Cloudcaller?" one of the elves asked. "What do you want of Caer Darrow, and state why it is that we should accept your presence in this sacred land?"
----
Utilizing his druidic powers over nature, Featherbeard led the dwarves down into Cary'leh. His hands extended, he focused his mind, trying to calm the myriad of raptors. The dwarves had not gone unnoticed. Hiding behind Featherbeard, the companions shuddered as a thousand luminous eyes focused on them. Hissing, biting raptors clawed at the ground angrily. Featherbeard ignored them, and began edging through a crowd of wild beasts, leading the dwarves towards the cave.
Yarin of the Dark Iron ensured that the flamethrower corps surrounded them, just in case. Urkath would love a report on their effectiveness, after all.
Slowly but surely, the dwarves reached the cave entrance, stepping past the crude raptor huts and standing before the gaping maw of Cary'leh's heart. Raptor Ridge, as it was called by some; home of the Razormaw Matriarch and her thousand children.
"Stay close, lads." Featherbeard mumbled. They peered into the darkness, when they heard a voice.
"Ahoy, who goes there? An' how did ye' make it through Cary'leh alive, by the gods!"
It was Relgast Anvilmar, dressed in his rags, feathers and beads, stepping out to meet his compatriots.
Featherbeard immediately asked the obvious.
"What in the 'hells are ye doing in Cary'leh, boy?"
Relgast sighed, a short dwarf by any standard, with a grim black beard. He seemed underfed and tired.
"Featherbeard, been a long time. I knew tha' father would send a group afta' me eventually. But I tell ya' why I'm here. I want no part in ruling the kingdom; and besides. I can't leave."
Then he explained how he ended up in Cary'leh in the first place.
"It was a few months ago, ye see. I was livin in the highlands, when I was ambushed by gnolls. The raptors saved me, and I only found out why after. They thought I was the second coming of their god or somesuch; there's a statue back there, though I look nothin' like the figure in there. The Razormaw Matriarch, she the mother of this brood, she is a smart 'un. She made it clear I cannae' leave."
Yarin's thick eyebrows knotted.
"Well, interestin' case we got 'ere. But enough o' this. Let's rest and think about this tomorro'. You got any bed or somethin in 'ere, Relgast?"
Relgast nodded.
"Follow me."
That night, they rested under the watchful gaze of the raptors, in a nook in the caves. Relgast ate hungrily from Featherbeard's supplies, and listened with grief afterwards about how his father was ill.
"It had ta' happen eventually, son." Featherbeard explained. "He is an old dwarf. But if ye' don' come back, there might be civil war."
Relgast nodded, but groped at his stomach.
"Not feelin' too well, lads."
Then he keeled over. Featherbeard rushed to his side, placing his hands on the young dwarf.
"He been poisoned. I can feel it in his veins!"
The dwarves rushed to the aid of their heir, but could do nothing. Relgast was still conscious. Featherbeard shook him.
"Any idea what happen' to ya, lad?"
Relgast's eyes focused.
"You kno', this sorceror is in Cary'leh. Says he serves some strange god. Had no problems with him; can't imagine why he'd poison me. Maybe it wasn't him."
"It wasn't." a voice responded. Down from the shadows stepped a tall and imposing humanoid, green skinned, bearing powerful tusks. Featherbeard recognized that it was a forest troll. Or a jungle troll. He could not be sure.
"Who are ye?" Featherbeard asked. "An' d'ye kno' who did this to our friend?"
The troll laughed heartily.
"Mon', it was one of yer own. This much I can feel. One of you wants him dead; the poison in your friend. I can taste it from 'ere. If you try to heal him with your weak magics, it will kill him."
Relgast began to fall unconscious. Featherbeard sighed.
"All this way fer nothin'? No. Ye seem to know about this poison. Can ye help him?"
The troll grunted, cocking his head.
"O' yes, mon. I can help him. But it will leave the mark of my religion upon him, foreva."
Featherbeard realised that he was in a tough position; with an unrevealed enemy in the company and the dwarven heir poisoned.
----
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Category:By Timolas