Chapter 3

She accepts the items and stares at
them blankly, lost in her own thoughts.

Oren starts to turn away, but after a
moment, remembers to turn back to her. "Sorry."

The mage steps towards the dwarf, who
is hammering angrily at the wellspring. "Votig, I know you're
angry and you think the well is corrupting us but it's not. It's just
a source of magic and makes magi stronger. The wells are important,
and without them our world would be doomed. Magic is one of the only
things keeping the government from completely oppressing everybody.
There are mages and wizards who can stand up to the police, and if
you destroy the wells there will not only be a surge of magical
beasts in the area, but people will die, even in cities. You can't
destroy them, you need to calm down and accept that this well is a
force of good in the world. I know Minerva didn't do a great job of
convincing you but you have to trust me."

He gives Eliam a glance, pleading with
him to step in.

"I um. I thought those were
important?” The bard asks. “Can we fix it? I don't think we were
supposed to break those. If things are gonna get that bad I think
this might be bad. We need to leave, people are going to be pissed we
did this, holy shit.”

"Maybe we can fix it,” Oren
says. “Nobody knows we did this, we won't get in trouble but it's
worse than that. But if we can undo the damage maybe things will
still be alright."

"Yeh? Except there be orc mages as
well, who be gettin' fueled from these springs. I didn't break it
just ta fix it again, anyhow. If ya want to try, that's on you."
Votig turns to start walking away, satisfied with his work. "You
were right Oren. We aren't heroes. This isn't my fight anymore. I
wish ye luck, however, in yer travels." He looks at Minerva
disgustedly. "Well, some of ye that is."

"Wait, wait! You can't go, what
about the police?” Oren protests. “Don't you want to stop them
from oppressing people? Eliam and I were just drawn into that fight
by chance, but *you* stood up to the cops yourself. You saved
that man's life. And every day those cops are out there doing the
same thing to other people. What if it's your mother's inn next time?
What do you think they did to that bar as soon as we left? You are
stronger than anyone I've ever met, you could surely make a
difference in this world and make up for this if you help the
Lyriad."

"Oren... Oren's right,” Eliam
agrees. “And I'm sure we don't want to go down in history as the
people who destroyed the world and unleashed all the monsters."

"And what good has it done?”
asks Votig. “What good will it do? Sylvatir doesn't need a secret
group like this, fightin' worthless battles in lifeless forests. I
destroyed the wellspring meself and nothin' bad happened, so why were
we here? What they need is an army, and we ain't it. While we were
out here, they be terrorizin' the citizens in countless towns. I can
oppose them meself in me travels and do more good then the Lyriad has
done. And what I want now is to find a way to reverse whatever change
that damnable well did to me."

"You should use the power it gave
you to destroy the people responsible and try to change things,”
replies Oren. “If you do that you'll really make a difference, not
saving a few dozen people here and there before you're arrested."

"If I was interested in havin'
this power, I woulda jumped in the spring like ye did."

"Well you didn't have a choice.
The universe wanted you to jump in so you could fulfill your destiny.
The aether made you stronger for a reason, and you shouldn't reject
that gift. The well is important and you ruined it." Oren
gestures to the well as he speaks, suddenly noticing the lotus
growing near the pool. He falls to his knees, and gently lifts it
from the aether to keep it safe.

Votig sighs. "Ye always have a
choice, lad. Maybe when yer older, ye'll understand. This isn't how I
wanted to fight, universe be damned."

"Honestly, if we want to make a
difference, this could be our chance, Votig,” Eliam says. ”The
Lyriad as we saw it is a complete joke. One or two members doing
nothing of consequence in small towns. But they do seem to have some
manner of infrastructure set up; Minerva and I got here through yet
another small chapter in nearby town with a teleport stone. If they
don't have a plan to change things, we could simply take over and
give them one. Sticking around could give us an opportunity to help
and use what resources they have."

Votig laughs at the thought
of a coup, situation be damned. "Ya? And ya expect them to just
follow along with whatever we say? But at the end of the day, it's
just what ya say. Small chapters, no army. Even if ya take out the
leaders, ya still got their police to deal with."

Minerva continues to stares at the
items Oren handed her. Once or twice she's looked up at Votig or Oren
but each time she inevitably goes back to looking at the photograph.
Finally, after listening to the whole conversation, she walks wearily
over to Votig and says, "Votig, I know we're small and we seem
disorganized. I know we need an army... I know everything looks
hopeless. But what would you have me do instead? Tell me how to help
save people, Votig. Tell me why I got this power if I'm not supposed
to help anyone with it!"

"You can help people,” Votig
answers. “I never said ye couldn't, it's just not fer me. It's
obvious this isn't working, and hasn't been working. Do ye even know
how many chapters of the lyriad there are? The leader of the
organization, how to contact them? Or was it yer father, who died
nobly in the back alley of a farm town, to some no name orc captain,
not even the orc we were after?"

Oren gently puts the flower away into
his bag. He hops up, hugs Votig and whispers excitedly, "You
fixed it you made it grow back thank you.” He grins and kisses
Votig on the cheek. “Thank you thank you you're amazing your
punches are the best.”

Oren lets go and stumbles away towards
Minerva. "We should go to town, is there an inn there? It's
late..." he starts walking towards town, pulling at her arm as
he walks by her. "C'mon."

"Eh? Fixed what lad?” Votig
asks, confused. “I broke it remember?"

Minerva says nothing, and as the party
arrives at the inn close to midnight, she enters one of the rooms,
locks the door, and answers no knocks at the door for the rest of the
night.

Oren creeps into the room with two twin
beds slowly. Upon claiming the room he goes downstairs and, with the
assistance of the innkeep, he gathers a bowl filled with clean water.

Votig claims the third room for
himself. Eliam enters the room Oren is in. As he steps inside, the
mage looks at him awkwardly, quietly hiding the bowl of water under
his bed as the bard sets aside his things.

While Eliam is distracted, Oren quietly
cuts himself and drips some blood into the bowl. "Er... what are
you doing?" Eliam asks, noticing his odd behavior. “Are uh...
are you okay?”

"Yeah, I'm fine,” Oren answers,
bandaging his wrist casually. Eliam sits back, assuming the mage was
injured in the fight. "Do you think Minerva's still upset?”
Eliam asks.

"She's always upset."

"You're not wrong."

"Are you upset? Everyone else is."

"I'm just not sure what to do,”
Eliam answers. “That got kind of crazy. I can't shake the feeling
we messed up somehow."

"It's all okay now though,” Oren
says.

"That's good. Hopefully everyone
feels better tomorrow."

"You know lots of girls, right? Do
you know the girl we saw?"

Eliam shakes his head. "I've met a
lot, but I didn't recognize that one in particular. Maybe we'll meet
her later? To be honest I don't understand why the fountain showed us
all those faces anyways. It was just our group."

"But she's not in our group."

"Well, it was everyone in our
group besides her."

"Maybe she's a friend of
Minerva's," Oren wonders.

"Oh, that could be actually,”
Eliam says. “We should try asking her when she leaves her room"

"Do you think she's going to kill
more cops?"

"I really hope not. That would be
the last thing we need at this point. We didn't leave any witnesses,
so hopefully they don't come after us."

The two continue their talk. As the
conversation winds down, Oren flops onto one of the beds and falls
asleep.

She reflects on the events of the last
week. If she had known days ago what she knows now, of what she'd
lost, and what others would gain... what could she have done
differently? Her mind turns over and over as the little flame dances
between her palms.

As the blackness recedes a single star
a time, Minerva, puzzled, thinks back to Linea's words: that the
wellspring was a source of magic in the world, and that surely magic
would be weaker and more powerless to inspire change in the physical
realm, and yet, here... Here in her hands was proof of the opposite.
She was no mage, aether did not bend to her whim, magic did not
spring to life around her... and yet now, with magic waning
worldwide, conjuring flame seemed like something she'd been born
knowing how to do. Nothing made sense.

Would Linea know the answer? She gazed
into the dancing ember and tried to focus, hoping to divine meaning
from its translucent flicker, but no answers were forthcoming. This
seemed preposterous.

Votig, in his room, reflects on the
events of the previous night as well. If he knew what he knew last
night, he never would've joined up with this lot. If someone managed
to get into his locked room, they'd immediately notice that he hadn't
slept that night. He had done nothing but drink, with the many kegs
they brought on their trip smuggled into his room. It was the only
thing that felt right anymore.

With the sun having fully risen,
Minerva sits in the inn's breakfast lounge, working her way through
toast, eggs, and bacon.

Oren wakes up, cleans himself and
changes his clothes. He goes downstairs to meet with Minerva. She
smiles as he sits. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

Oren greets her with a tiny wave, and
looks around awkwardly. "Nobody else is here?"

"There were a lot of people when
breakfast started at seven, but everyone went off to start their
day."

"Who?"

Minerva shrugs. "Tourists? A few
farmers. No one I knew."

"Okay," Oren responds as he
tries some of the food on the table.

"So, uh... how have you been
feeling? I thought I might feel weird after yesterday, but... I'm
okay," she says.

"I'm fine."

"Are... you sure? You seem kind of
quiet..."

Oren thinks about her question, quietly
picking at his food but failing to answer.

Minerva sits awkwardly, poking at her
food gingerly with her fork. "Um... have you thought about what
you'd like to do next?" Minerva asks quietly.

"Maybe we can stay here for a
while. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to,” Oren
replies.

Minerva shakes her head. "To be
honest, I don't really... know what to do right now. I'd like to hear
from everyone and see if anyone has a good idea."

"Eliam is asleep, go ask him"

Minerva nods, then shrugs slightly. "I
guess I can go see if he's up..." She leaves Oren at the table,
and knocks quietly on Eliam's door. After a moment, he opens the
door.

"O-oh. Good morning, Eliam. Did
you sleep well?"

"Yeah. How um... how are you doing
today?"

"I'm okay. Or I was, Oren seems
very... unsociable today. Are you feeling all right after yesterday?
We went through a lot..."

"I'm fine! I think that's just
Oren being Oren. I'm glad you're feeling better, though. You seemed a
bit upset."

She chuckles from embarrassment. "It's
been a rough week. I was happy... now I'm just confused. I... I **feel**
**warmth. Not just, like, I feel warm, I feel warmth itself. I**
sense heat. It's strange. Do you... feel anything?

"I don't really feel anything out
of the ordinary, to be honest. I guess this means we should go wake
Votig?"

She laughs this time, a genuine smile
on her face. "We can try."

"Well, now you mention it
actually,” he says after a moment, “I have felt like magic is a
bit... stronger, in general? I can sense it more. Maybe we really did
do some good in that forest." He looks over at Votig's door.
"I'll uh... leave waking Votig to you."

Minerva just frowns. This makes no
sense to her at all. "But... but that was supposed to **weaken**
magic. What did we do...?"

Eliam shrugs. "Your guess is as
good as mine. I didn't even know the damn things existed until
yesterday. But so far, everything seems to be going well."

Minerva looks doubtful, but she moves
to Votig's door anyway. She knocks gingerly. Turning back over her
shoulder, she says to Eliam, "Oren is downstairs eating, if
you're hungry."

"Thanks," he says, going
downstairs to get food.

Minerva knocks on Votig's door. “Votig,
are you up?"

A combination of glass shattering and
dwarvish cursing comes from behind the door. "Yeh? What d'ya
want,” he slurs from behind his door.

"A-are you okay?”

"M'fahn."

"Did... you have a drink last
night?" Minerva smiles a little. "I wondered what happened
to those kegs. Would you like to come join us for food?" Minerva
waits for an answer, and eventually moves downstairs when none comes,
joining her companions at the table. After some time, Votig joins the
group as well. She looks around at each of them and seems uncertain
what to say.

"So, uh..." she starts,
uncomfortably. "Last night got... interesting. Things happened.
We changed. Things were said. What do we do from here?"

"Do we... pay... for this food?"
Oren asks, slinking down in his chair. "We should stay here and
act normal.”

"Works for me. No one knows we did
anything, after all,” agrees Eliam.

Minerva crosses her arms. "I more
meant what do you want to do now that we have these... gifts."

"It doesn't change our goals,”
Oren states.

She brightens up immediately. "Really?!
You mean it? You'll help me save people?"

Oren rolls his eyes in response and
lays his head down on his arms.

"It sounded last night like... we
might be finished." She glances briefly at Votig and tries to
look away before he notices.

"That was before, now everything
is fine," the mage mumbles from the table.

"Oh, thank goodness. There's still
so much we can do to help people... especially now." She looks
visibly relieved. "I'm still worried about ... that thing that
broke, but maybe it won't be so bad. We can stick around here for a
while and see what's going on."

Oren gives a weak thumbs up in response
and closes his eyes.

"Didn't you sleep?" Eliam
asks him.

"Yeah."

"Well, rise and shine then!"
the bard says cheerfully, slapping his back.

Oren briefly opens his eyes and turns
his head away, continuing to rest his head on his arms.

"Ya want *more* help, do ya
lass?” Votig says, starting in on another beer. “I figure we been
helpin' quite a bit. Now I think it’s time ya help us. Or at the
very least, me."

Oren smiles and closes his eyes.

The group hears a sudden shout,
followed by cries of, "Ah!" and, "Ow!" From a
distance, they hear a strong voice shout, "Get a towel!"
and moments later, a man is rushing through the inn entrance from the
kitchens and leaving in a hurry, a towel around his arm.

Minerva looks at Votig cautiously.
"What can I help you with?"

"The bard mentioned that ya met
another chapter of the Lyriad, so I reckon there be even more of ya
around. Like that healer of yers, perhaps. Ya, that'd make sense, I
bet," he burps. "I want this... this *thing* gone. I
figure someone out there know how ta remove magic. Some spell. Maybe
you know, mage." He glance over at Oren, whose eyes remain
closed.

Minerva looks astonished. "W-what?
Why? You've been given a gift, something you can use to help the
world! Why would you give that up?"

"Ya think I wasn't strong enough
before?” He shouts, slamming his mug on the table. “I been
handlin' meself since before yer father was even born."

"Ah!" Oren sits up, startled
at the noise. He slinks back down in his chair, leaning back and
trying to act natural.

Minerva scowls at the dwarf. "My
father was strong, too. But we're talking about resisting a
government and their dogs. Any bit helps.”

"Maybe we should go to
Thirshalon,” suggests Oren. “Who better to fight a government
than another government right?" He smiles and fidgets nervously.

Minerva gives Oren a strange look.
"A... are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"
he slinks lower and crosses his arms, looking away. "I mean we
don't have to. It was just an idea. Never mind."

"N-no, I just," she looks
uncomfortable, fearing she's offended Oren too. "I, um... How...
how would we even get to... to Thirshalon?"

"I don't know,” Oren answers.

"It doesn't matter what we have. A
little bit of power, so what? We still need an army. Or ya gonna face
down a few thousand orcs with yer fire daggers? Me havin' magic or
not won’t affect the comin' fight.”

"There's probably a carriage or
boat or something out to Thirshalon. It can't be too hard to find,"
Eliam says.

Oren sits up, suddenly alert. "Yes.
We just have to find it."

Minerva can't find an adequate answer
for Votig, and she's having a hard time understanding what Oren and
Eliam are getting at. It's distracting her enough that she doesn't
know how to respond to anyone.

"Then we can get the people there
to help us fight, they don't like people from Sylvavir. They'll
gladly go to war with us.” Oren smiles and looks back and forth
between Eliam and Minerva, waiting for them to agree.

"Wait... if they don't like people
from Sylvatir, won't they not like us?" Eliam asks.

Minerva tries desperately to keep an
incredibly fake smile on her face. Awkward and nervous, she finally
spits out, "We... we all remember that Thirshalon was destroyed,
like... thousands of years ago, right? The entire continent is gone?
That's the place you want us to visit, right?"

"Well maybe but we're pretty
likable. Except me, but you're nice, you can talk to them." Oren
looks at Minerva nervously; he had hoped she wouldn't remember that.
“That's... um..."

Eliam blinks for a moment after hearing
Minerva. "I... wait, okay. Maybe we need a new plan."

"Well,” Oren says, “did you
see it destroyed? Maybe it's still there."

"How do you even know about this
place?" Eliam asks him.

"Well Minerva knows about it too,
everybody knows about it, it's in books." Oren turns to Votig.
"You're really old right? You just said that, do you remember
it?"

Minerva feels like she might need some
help getting Oren off this Thirshalon kick, so she says, "Okay,
look... most of the country's religious scholars live in Fallowfield,
right? Maybe if we go there and ask them questions, they can find us
a way to get to Thirshalon."

"I thought we just established
that Thirshalon doesn't exist?" the bard asks.

As she's speaking, a man in healer's
robes walks into the inn. His face is white and he moves directly to
the counter to speak to the inn owner.

"Yes! And maybe they can help
Votig lose his magic. We should do that!" Oren says, excited.

"Agreed then!" Votig says,
waving down a barkeep. "A round of ya finest ale on this lass!"

Minerva, seeing the healer, nudges
Eliam under the table with her foot.

Oren, noticing the movement, looks
under the table and glances around confused.

The innkeep and the staff hear Votig
but none of them move. They're talking to the healer, faces aghast.
Votig repeats himself, louder this time. Two workers stand with the
inn owner, talking with the healer. One of the workers gives Votig a
nasty look as the inn owner's face falls.

Oren whispers to Votig, "you're
gonna get us kicked out. Please don't. This inn is nice. We should
stay here... for a while... this place is nice, and we need to rest,
remember?"

Eliam nudges Minerva to get her
attention. "Are you hearing that? That healer just said someone
bled out in minutes, and they couldn't heal him. Is that normal?"

Oren offers a slight smile. "They
should have told us, I'm a pretty good medic. Oh well."

"He said his healing magic just
wouldn't work,” Eliam continues. “I... that wasn't us, right?"

"Well I don't use magic to heal,”
Oren continues. “I use bandages and stuff. I used to do it all the
time back home whenever the people in the village got hurt.”

Eliam ignores him, continuing to listen
to the conversation. “I’d say to offer your services, but it
sounds like he's already dead."

Ignoring them, Votig walks up to the
group gathered around the healer. He picks the healer up, and sets
him off to the side. He then leans in close, and repeats himself once
more.

Minerva's face goes white as she sees
Votig approach. "Votig. **Votig**! Stop!"

"Yeah, he's of no use now,” Oren
agrees with the bard.

The innkeeper, so sad a moment ago,
turns on Votig the moment the dwarf moves the healer. The healer
shrinks from Votig, but the innkeep stands his ground.

"Hey... this could be good. If we
get kicked out we won't have to pay," Eliam whispers to the
table.

Votig looks at the healer and slaps him
on the back. "Looks like this lad could use a whole round
himself, eh?" he laughs, completely unaware of the situation.

"Oh yeah. What did this cost?"
Oren whispers back to the bard, pulling out a handful of silver. "I
want to pay you back."

Minerva says quickly, "Breakfast
comes with the room, I believe.”
"Oh," Oren says, putting his money away and looking at Votig. "But I don't want to be kicked out."

The innkeep grabs Votig's shoulder.
"Sir! A man has just died, our colleague and friend. We are
trying to understand that situation. Go sit down and we'll help you
when we can."

"Ya? Well why didnt ya say so!"
Votig gestures over to the group. "We're the Lyriad! How 'bout
we help each other? Ya get me some ale, and we'll go figure out the
sit-” he hiccups- “uation for ya."

Minerva immediately flies out of her
seat and grabs Votig around the neck. "YES. YES WE... ARE ALL...
VERY ... TYR--AD. TEEEERED. TIRED. VERY, VERY TIRED. COFFEE WHENEVER
YOU CAN PLEASE." She attempts to pull him away.

The healer looks at the group, suddenly
suspicious.

"Are you fucking crazy?"
Eliam says to Votig.

Oren gets up and walks over to the
innkeep. He says to the healer, "If you get any more cuts, I can
fix it. I am a doctor."

"Ya? Well yer the one who walked
into ta wellspring, not me. Never me,” Votig drunkenly replies to
the bard.

As Minerva tries to wrangle Votig back
to the table, Oren tries to help by pushing him and standing between
him and the innkeep. “Sorry your friend died. This person is
drunk."

The healer steps forward, staring
curiously. "Wait. Stop, please. What was that? About the
wellspring?"

"The alternative was abandoning
Oren in the forest there!” Eliam argues, ignoring the healer. “No
one's happy about the situation but no one else is shouting to the
world that we're part of some secret criminal club!"

"Yes, a doctor, me, indeed,”
Oren continues to the healer. “I know it's hard to believe, but I
read several books on first aid and half of Westbridge will vouch for
my skills as a medic. Anyway, we better get back to our noon
breakfast before it gets cold.” He pushes Votig back towards the
table.

"No one said anything about a
wellspring, our companion is drunk and confused" Eliam addresses
the healer.

"No, but..." the healer falls
silent. He stares at his own hands for a moment, then back at your
party. A moment later he's run out the door.

"He's going to the police. He's
going straight to the damn police,” Eliam says, covering his face
with his hands.

"Yeah? Ya think I can't take a few
orcs? I'll have you know I once killed one in a single hit. Back at
this inn... ah, what was it's name...” Votig begins.

Oren looks at the innkeeper. "If
anyone else is hurt, I can heal them with not-magic. It's more
natural. It doesn't always work but I'll do it for free. I accept
pies and well-wishes as payment."

The innkeep looks at the mage,
emotionally unprepared to even consider his offer. He takes one final
look at Votig and says, disgusted, "Just get the dwarf his ale,"
to his workers.

"Forget the ale,” Eliam says.
“We have to leave before the orcs get here."

Oren whispers to the group, "Votig,
you really did destroy it, their magic doesn't work! And neither does
mine come to think of it. Good thing I have other talents. How's the
music career coming along, Eliam?”

"I haven't really had time to
practice,” Eliam says, as he accepts his fate to rot in prison.

"How many more ya think I gotta
destroy before mine's gone?" Votig asks in a dwarvish, drunken
whisper.

"Well, I think after we stay here
for a little while, we should go to that Fallowfield place and ask
the monks or whoever to let us borrow their library,” Oren says.
“Then I'll find a way to remove it, okay?"

"Y... ya will?” Votig says. “Yer
a good lad alright." He gives the mage a dwarven hug and shouts
to the inn, "Another round to celebrate!" forgetting he
never actually received the first round he requested.

"I don't understand. I felt like
magic was getting stronger across the board. I can actually sense
some of it now. This makes no sense,” Eliam says.

"I sense things, too,” Minerva
agrees. “But... but that healer was weaker. What is happening?"

"Maybe you got stronger BECAUSE
you destroyed it,” Oren says. “So don't destroy any more until
we're sure. We're well people now. Only we get the magic.”

"Do you know anyone who would know
about this stuff to ask? What about that one lady, er, Linda? Linea?
Would she know what's happening?" Eliam asks Minerva.

She shrugs. "I doubt she'd know
more than what we'd learn in Fallowfield. She'd probably tell us what
everyone else would: that Thirshalon is gone and we'd be silly trying
to reach it."

Oren glares at her. “Well, then we
should definitely not ask her.”

The workers return with a round of ale,
despite it being only noon.

### **Marblearm Shows Up**

Eliam chugs the ale gratefully. Votig
follows suit, but immediately passes out, having finally reached his
limit. As the rest of the party enjoys their drinks and meal, the
doors to the inn slam open. The healer has returned.

Behind him stands a figure none of them
have ever seen before. A muscular dwarf, beard rolling down his chest
and a youthful expression on his face steps forward. He roars in
anger as he looks around the room and sees Votig resting on the
table.

"I told you, Votig!" he
shouts in rage. "I told you you'd never get away from the
Marblearm!"

Unfortunately, Votig hears none of
this.

Oren looks worried, glancing at Minerva
and Eliam. "Votig is drunk, come back tomorrow," he says,
trying to defuse the situation. He kicks Votig under the table in an
attempt to wake him up.

Seeing Votig fallen face-first onto the
table, the new dwarf walks forward, grabs him by the shirt collar and
pulls him up. "Look at ya," he spits, glaring at Votig.
"Once ya was a selfish, pathetic waste of a dwarf. Now yer that,
but yer drunk, too. How useless can ya be?" Marblearm throws
Votig's body to the floor. "At me feet, where ya deserve ta be.
But this ain't no fun. I'll get no revenge today. Not unless yer
awake ta bleed and scream."

He takes one of the pints that had just
arrived at the table, drinks half of it in one swig, and pours the
rest out on Votig's head. "Anyone got a problem with that?"
He looks pointedly at Oren and Eliam.

"I understand you're upset,
stranger, but there's no need to waste good beer,” Eliam says in
response. Oren takes a napkin and reaches over to wipe the dwarf off
some.

Marblearm's nose crinkles after having
drank it. "That's fine. Ah dinnae waste good beer. Pathetic,"
the dwarf says. "An' he's even got babes and women cleanin' up
after him. I'm leavin'. This isn't any fun at all. But first, I
believe I'm owed."

"Owed?" Eliam asks.

"You there!" he barks at
Oren, seeing him close to Votig. "Do anything and you'll face
Bassoic Marblearm, prince of the pugilists and First of the Fist.”
He searches Votig's body and withdraws some silver. "Is that all
ya have, ya little pebble? Such a waste." Bassoic seems pleased
at taking the money and so allows Oren to continue cleaning him off.
"I'll be back, and next time ya best be awake..."

Bassoic goes to leave, keeping his eyes
on the party. The healer begins to withdraw with him.

"Hey, wait, that's not yours,”
Oren says.

“It was before he stole it from
**me!**" Bassoic shouts. He steps out the door, the healer at
his heels.

Votig is passed out on the floor,
drenched with beer. The innkeep has returned to the room and looks
pissed off. Eliam quietly slips some of his own silver into Votig's
pocket to replace what Marblearm took.

Minerva looks at Votig. "S-should
we... do something?"

"He's probably fine,” Oren
replies. “I'm sure he can just sleep it off."

Eventually, Votig stirs. Minerva looks
at him and says, "So... uh... we had a visitor while you were...
napping. What can you tell us about this... Marblearm?"

"Never heard the name before,”
the dwarf says, taking a long pull from one of the mugs on the table.

"He didn't like you,” Oren adds.

"I can't imagine why. I'm quite
likable, I reckon."

"Yeah,” agrees the mage, “That's
true. I guess it's a good thing we didn't fight him. He was probably
confused about who you were."

Minerva glares at Votig but says
nothing. She purses her lips and folds her arms. Oren looks between
the two, concerned.

"It was fine! We handled the whole
Marblearm thing. He just walked in for a few minutes and left,”
Eliam says, trying to calm the two down.

Finally, Minerva looks at Votig. "Well.
If we're all done **lying**," she says, subtly gesturing at
the floor where Votig had been, "perhaps we should make for
Fallowfield?"

"Least I'm not the leader of a
cult," Votig grumbles into his mug.

"No, not yet,” Oren responds to
her.

Minerva jumps up and stomps off. "I'm
going to pack," she says, pretending not to hear Oren.

The party quietly waits for her to
leave. "I hope she's not like that the whole trip,” Eliam says
once he's sure she's gone.

"Hope she likes going alone,”
Oren says, annoyed.

"Ya, I agree. Now what'd this...
Marblearm? Guy say. Not that I know him, o'course,” Votig grumbles.

"Well, some very angry dwarf
walked in and claimed to recognize you. He got upset you were
sleeping, though, and left. We tried to stop him, but there was only
so much we could do,” Eliam tells him.

"Hmmm,” Votig grumbles once
more.

"It was quite the sight though!”
Eliam continues. “Once he insulted you, we rose to your defense. He
spoke a big game, calling himself the 'prince of pugilists' and other
ridiculous titles, but eventually he just ran out of the bar instead
of facing us. I suppose he was afraid, given our martial prowess."

"Ya, that makes sense. Good ta'
know we got a true warrior here though, right lad?" Votig gives
Eliam a friendly slap on the back as he stands to go pack. The others
follow suit.

### **The Group Prepares to Leave Saloria**

Minerva meets the party some time later
out by the wagon. She yawns, gives her hair a little toss, and asks,
"So what was the plan again? Drive by wagon or find a boat?"

The party discusses the plan, while
everyone except Oren meets up downstairs. Votig returns inside to
retrieve the mage. "Lad? Ya in there?" He asks as he knocks
on the door.

Oren flops over to the door and opens
it carefully, leaning on the door's frame for support. “What's up?"

"Ya alright? We're down at the
wagon waitin' on ya."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Ta' falafelfell, I thought.”

Oren, annoyed, walks past him to the
wagon without a response. Votig follows him outside, joining the
group at the wagons.

The mage finds Minerva hitching the
horses and securing their gear to the wagon. He pulls her away from
her task, and whispers to her, "Why are we leaving right now?"

She whispers back, "Do you really
want to stay here with that dwarf mugger on our tail? He doesn't know
where we're going and we have nothing else to gain from being here.
Why not go?"

"Did you hear the healer? He said
their magic doesn't work. If someone gets hurt, they'll die like that
kitchen guy. But I can heal without magic. We should stay in case
something happens."

"What do you expect is going to
happen that we need to be here for?" Minerva asks.

"People get hurt all the time. In
the town I lived near, there were people coming to get fixed up
almost every week, and that place was a lot smaller than this one.
People will die if we leave.”

"People will die in every city. We
can't save every single life, but if we learn our powers, we can save
a lot more than if we just sit here in this town."

"I thought you wanted to help
people,” Oren argues. “There are people right here who need our
help. But if you really want to go I'll meet you there. Hopefully
magic will be fixed soon and they won't need me." The mage walks
away, trying to make her feel ashamed.

"I want to help a world," she
calls to Oren's retreating back. "A world, not one town. We can
do that."

Oren turns to her, but continues
walking backwards. "Well I want to save some lives instead of
just taking them, so I'll meet you there when I'm done making up for
what we've done." He turns back around, making towards the
healer's home.

Minerva looks at Eliam and Votig for
their opinions.

"Ya two can go ahead if ya want.
I've got no reason to leave the mage behind when he be the one who
was offerin' to help me,” Votig decides.

"We can't just abandon either of
them,” Eliam says to Minerva. “I mean, it's not like we had a
solid lead anyways.”

Minerva sighs. She pats the horse and
then turns to follow. "So what are we going to **do**, then?”

"I guess, if our goal is to help
people, this is as good a place as any. Maybe we'll find where to go
from someone here,” the bard says.

After they decide, Votig leaves in
search of a place to upgrade his armor. He finds a small shop near
the inn, "Heather's Leathers," that sells a variety of
leather goods. Votig enters the shop and looks around.

A woman walks out from a back room and
spots Votig moving amongst the wares. "Hello, sir! Can I help
you with something?"

Votig eyes the human-sized armors
available. "Yeah, lass. Ye have anything in dwarf size? Lookin'
fer somethin' a bit sturdier than this." He gestures at the
armor he's currently wearing.

"Hm," she mumbles, looking at
Votig. "I'll have to get some measurements and make a few
adjustments. Would tomorrow afternoon work for a pickup?"

"That'd be fine,” Votig answers.
“I've got nowhere I'm in a rush ta be."

She fills out a slip with a job number
and takes Votig's measurements. After scribbling some more
information down, she hands Votig a ticket and says, "This time
tomorrow, please, sir."

"How much ya think it'll be?"

"An unmodified set of heavy
leather goes for about thirty silver; this will involve some slight
labour, so I'd normally charge an extra ten, but I don't much care to
charge a client that much more based on body shape alterations."
She taps her chin as she studies the bill. "Thirty-five silver."

Votig hands her the silver, paying the
full amount in advance, and leaves the shop.

Meanwhile, Oren searches for Marblearm.
Walking down the streets, passerby help point Oren in the direction
of a healer's house. It is, in fact, the residence and workplace of
the same healer he had seen in the inn. It is a single-story house
with a sign out front reading "Healer Jinaya."

The door is locked, so Oren knocks. The
healer opens the door. He glances behind him, then looks back at
Oren. In a monotone, he says, "Yes?"

"Hello, is your magic broken?"
Oren asks.

The healer looks at him, confused. "Are
you injured?"

"No, I'm a doctor."

"Have a fine day, then." He
slowly begins to close the door.

"Wait. I think, if you need help
healing people, I can do it. I can save them and you can get the
money."

"I am perfectly capable of
applying first aid and traditional medicines, thank you," he
says stiffly. "And I strongly doubt your magical curative
abilities surpass my own."

"Not magic. Doctor. First aid."

"Then good day." He continues
to close the door.

"Wait!" Oren says, sticking
his arm out and pulling up the sleeves. Several bandages are already
wrapped around his arm. "Heal me. I'll pay you."

The healer looks at the bandages on his
arm, and notices the red staining through. His eyes narrow and he
sighs. "Enter."

He directs Oren to a seat in a side
room and says, "Please remove any clothing that will be stained.
I'll suture up your wound and apply some fresh bandages."

"Hey, wait, I thought you were
magic," Oren says.

He clenches his teeth. "Sometimes
the old ways are best."

"No, I already bandaged it. I need
fresh blood so I need a healing spell. I'm low."

He looks at Oren suspiciously, then
says, "I will not replenish your blood; your body will do that
naturally. Drink juice, avoid alcohol for a few days, and let me
re-wrap your bandages."

"I want to see you cast a spell,”
Oren insists.

"Do you want my help or don't
you?"

"Not really, I wanted help from a
mage."

His face turns red. "Then leave,"
he says, angered. "Close the door on your way out."

Oren walks towards the door. "That's
too bad. Marblearm is going to need healing after Votig finds him.
That is, if he's not too scared to fight a conscious man."

Oren says his piece and turns to leave.
As he moves to return to the door, he finds Marblearm has stepped out
from an adjacent room and is standing in front of the exit, one hand
on a half-consumed bottle of ale, the other clenched in a tight fist.

Marblearm is furious. "Too
scared?! **Too scared!?** Ya wee babe, yer pathetic pebble o'a
dwarf were too scared ta face ME. **Let's see if ya do any better!**”

He throws the bottle down and charges
forward. Oren, out of the corner of his eye, notes that in a room off
to his right, there is an open window on the far wall, though a large
table and a cabinet stand between Oren and his freedom.

The mage is moving before Marblearm has
even taken three steps. He dashes into the room and rolls onto the
table. As Marblearm rounds the corner, he sees Oren gracefully land
on the floor on the far side of the table. He bounds up onto a chair,
hops to the cabinet, and slides out the window. He successfully
manages to run away.

Meanwhile, Eliam enters the bar. The
lady who was there the night he went in the basement is back behind
the counter. She smiles upon seeing him.

"So,” Eliam begins. “We took
your advice.”

She looks nervously around. "I
gave you no advice, sir. I'm not sure what you mean." She slips
some paper beneath a coaster, puts a drink on it, and slides it over
to Eliam.

The bard glares at her. "Yeah, I'm
sure you forgot all about the ambush you directed us into."

She blanches. "What ambush?"
she stammers, her voice kept low. "Tell me what happened!"

"Tell you what-- you insisted we
go down there right that minute! Right into a giant group of soldiers
trying to crush the wellspring! You *did* seem suspiciously
friendly. I knew something was off."

"You... you were with Samson's
daughter! You're one of us," she says defensively. "We
didn't have the strength to protect the wellspring but I thought if
you were here with her that meant you were surely going to protect
it! Please," she says with a touch of desperation, "you did
save it, didn't you?"

"One of you?!” Eliam exclaims.
“You probably got paid off by those orcs. If you want to know what
happened to the wellspring go see it yourself. Votig was right, the
Lyriad is bullshit." He stands to leave, taking his beer with
him. As he leaves, so too does she get up and retreat into the
kitchens behind her.

### **The Group Regroups At the Inn**

Evening draws near. The group meets for
dinner at the inn. Minerva asks between mouthfuls of steak, "So.
Does anyone have plans tomorrow?"
"Eat, drink, be merry?” Eliam shrugs. “Unless you've found some information,” He adds, drinking from the mug he stole earlier.

"I've got ta pick somethin' up in
the mornin',” Votig says.

"That healer and Marblearm tried
to kill me when I visited them. I offered to help heal patients and
they attacked me,” Oren says.

"What?!” Votig exclaims. “I
say we pay this healer and Marblearm, though I've never heard his
name before, a visit. In the afternoon though, tomorrow."

Minerva looks quizzically at Eliam's
mug. "Where did you get that?"

"An old friend gave it to me,”
he answers.

"Oh," she says tranquilly. "I
didn't realize you had friends in town, Eliam."

"I have friends everywhere I go! A
few minutes drinking together is all it takes, usually."

"You should ask Marblearm to come
here and fight,” Oren says to Votig. “That way when he's injured
I can save him and we can be the good guys.”

"Why would you want to save him?”
Eliam asks. “He's been so rude to us.”

"People are really nice to you if
you heal them. I used to get a lot of free food. Women would come
cook for me all the time to thank me, because they didn't have money
to pay. Maybe Marblearm will send his dwarf wife to cook for Votig,”
Oren answers.

Minerva glances at Votig as the mage
speaks.

"Ah, no need lad. I've got a wife
of me ow-" he catches himself, before downing his mug. “But
yes, we should definitely deal with them. Can't have them threatenin'
me mage buddy, now can I?"

"And the healer, his magic didn't
work,” Oren continues. "And I hate him. Very mean."

Minerva sighs. "So it really is
true, isn't it? We killed magic."

"We didn't... kill it,
necessarily. Our magic is fine!" Eliam says, trying to comfort
her.

"There's worse things to be
without in the world, like good ale,” Votig adds.

"Once Marblearm is dealt with we
can go to Fallowfield and figure that out. But make sure you don't
kill him, Votig. And fight him here. I do want to treat him. Then
he'll be our friend and that healer will look like a failure,” Oren
says.

"Who should deliver the message?
He's already attacked both of you before,” Eliam says. “...Er,
sorry, he's attacked you, Oren. It'd be irresponsible to send you
back.”

"Send a messenger,” Oren says,
slumping down in his seat. “I still need to find more injured
people. That's why I visited that healer but he wouldn't help me."

"If the fight gets out of control,
you may have all the injured people you want right in front of you,”
the bard points out.

"That would be great,” Oren
responds. “But I don't want any of you to be the hurt ones,”

"I wouldn't be worried about
that,” Votig says confidently.

The mage looks at Minerva. "Want
to help me find some hurt people? I don't know where they are, but
maybe you can ask your Lyriad friends."

"Oh, that's true. I forgot to go
back and speak to that lady at the bar. Hey, Eliam," she says
cheerfully, "how about we go see her?"

"I'm not supposed to drink
alcohol; the healer said it's bad for me,” Oren tells her at the
mention of a bar.

"I should really stay back and
make sure we're all prepared for the fight,” Eliam replies. “But
tell her I said hello, okay?"

"Okay," says Minerva,
smiling. "I'm going to go talk to her. Oren, do you want me to
meet up with you later once I talk to her, or do you want to join
me?"

"I'll come with you if you want.
If that's okay,” Oren says. As she doesn't respond, he blushes and
slumps down in his chair, assuming he's unwanted.

"She seemed like she was in kind
of a bad mood though,” Eliam adds to Minerva. “Just so you're
aware.”

“Oh... okay," Minerva says
slowly. "I'll meet up with you all later on!" She stands,
leaving the inn.

Oren moves to get up, then sits back
down, confused. "Am I going?” He whispers to Eliam. “What do
I do?"

"Women are weird. She wants you to
go; it's okay to go follow her,” he tells him. "I er... might
have made the bar lady mad at me though, so it might not be safe."

"Better luck next time lad. Plenty
of stones in the mountain,” Votig says reasurringly.

Oren scampers out of the inn to follow
Minerva.

### **Oren and Minerva Talk to the Waitress**

Minerva and Oren arrive at the bar and
enter. The barmaid takes one look at Minerva and leaves the bar to go
back into the kitchen.

Minerva frowns a little and looks at
Oren. "She was friendlier last night."

"Maybe she wants us to follow
her,” Oren suggests.

Minerva shrugs and says, "Okay,
that sounds feasible." She looks around to see if anyone will
stop you, but no one is nearby. She gestures toward the door to the
kitchen. "Gentlemen first," she says."

Oren confusedly looks around for who
she means. He steps through the door uncertainly, waiting to see if
he was wrong in assuming she meant him. Minerva follows as he walks
back into the kitchen.

As Oren enters the back room, he sees
the barmaid speaking to the chef. She looks panicked. He does a
little wave and looks at Minerva, waiting for her to say something.

The barmaid gathers her courage and
says, "Y-you're not allowed to be back here!"

Minerva sighs. "We already took a
trip to your downstairs, what are you so flustered about now?

The barmaid goes bright red, as does
Minerva upon realizing what she said. "N-no, I meant--"
Minerva begins.

The chef, a burly middle-aged man,
walks in front of the barmaid. "Okay, enough, enough! Get out of
the kitchen." Oren backs up away from him in response.

Minerva, however, moves forward. She
moves to the side to continue talking, even as the chef tries to
block her view. "Wait! Wait, please, talk to us! We're also...
you know!"

The barmaid shouts back, "It
doesn't seem like you are at all!"

Oren reaches over and pulls Minerva's
necklace out so they can see it. Minerva looks at him as if to say
'beg your pardon?' and quickly steps away. He ignores her glance, and
pulls his own Lyriad necklace out from his pocket. "We're
Lyriad, we want to help you."

Minerva follows suit, holding her own
pendant up to the barmaid. "Look! You know what this means. Now,
please talk to us!"

"Why?!" the barmaid answers.
"You already failed, the orcs destroyed the wellspring and now
the monsters from the Bramble will claim the town!"

"Well, I'm kind of a doctor,”
Oren says. “And since magic is broken I thought I could help your
cult with any medical problems you might have... If monsters are
hurting people that's an even better reason to stay here, Minerva.
Lots of people to help..."

The barmaid looks legitimately
offended. "CULT?!"

"I meant the Lyriad. That cult,”
Oren replies.

She picks up a frying pan. The barmaid
throws a frying pan at the mage, and he narrowly steps out of the way
as it collides with a loud thud against the wall.

"Why loud," he says, covering
his ears.

Minerva scowls. "Hey! There's no
reason for that! We're on your side!" Minerva then turns and
grabs Oren by the ear. "And **you**. I'll say this one time.
*We. Are. Not. A. Cult.*"

"Um... I don't understand why you
are angry,” Oren says. “But I'm sorry.”

She lets go of Oren's ear. "And
**you**," she says to the chef, who has been slowly advancing
to try and box Oren and Minerva out of the kitchen, "you need to
settle down and help us figure out what's happening so we can figure
out how to solve this."

The chef looks back at the barmaid, who
pauses, then nods. "What happened last night in the Bramble?"

"The cops showed up to destroy the
well,” Oren explains. "And then Minerva and Eliam teleported
in from somewhere. And we killed the cops. I mean, they did, I just
watched mostly..."

Minerva nods after Oren. "We
walked into an ambush when we teleported from the glyph downstairs. I
fell into the wellspring when one of them tackled me. I disappeared,
had a vision, and when I came out..." She holds her palm up and
suddenly a tiny flame is flickering in it.

Oren covers her hand quickly and shakes
his head at her. The barmaid is mesmerized by the flame, but it burns
his hand as he reaches to cover it. “"She hit her head, it was
awful. She's crazy now," he says.

Minerva gives him a glare. "They're
on our side, Oren. They're Lyriad."

He shakes his head at her once more.
"Well they're mad we let the cops destroy the well. But we tried
to stop them," he says, looking pleadingly at the cook and the
barmaid.

"So," the barmaid says
slowly. "You're saying the Rorgh destroyed the wellspring... and
you weren't able to stop them? Even after Minerva gained some... new
magic?"

Oren nods. "The well was
destroyed, but we'll try to fix it."

Minerva glances sideways at Oren and
cocks an eyebrow. The barmaid shakes her head. "If the
wellspring is destroyed, there will be no repairing it. We must
accept that it is gone, and magic forever drained."

"I don't know,” Oren insists.
“We’re going to Fallowfield to figure out a way to fix it."

"Truly?" she asks. "You
must be quick, then. The town may not last that long if the fiends of
the Bramble come for us."

"Well, we can't leave you
undefended..." the mage replies.”Plus we have this big fight
coming up, our friend needs to battle this Marblearm guy. And I need
to doctor some people. We killed a lot of cops, I want to atone a
little before we go. Which is surprisingly hard, nobody in this town
wants help and they keep trying to kill me when I offer."

"Oren," Minerva sighs. "Oren,
hush now. The grown-ups are speaking." She smiles a little at
him. "So basically we need to beat this dwarf before we can
leave to save the rest of the town."

Oren looks at her annoyed. He crosses
his arms and looks away from her.

"Okay," the barmaid says.
"What can we do to help?"

"Bring me injured people,” Oren
answers. “Sick is fine too."

The chef looks grim. "Wait until
nightfall."

"Really?” Oren says, grinning.
“Awesome."

Minerva looks appalled. "That...
This is not a good thing, Oren."

"It will be after I heal them. I
have saved almost all the people I've treated, don't worry."

The barmaid looks **very concerned** by
his use of the word "almost." She shakes it off and says to
the chef, "The Rorgh won't be enough if the monsters of the
Bramble come to the town. We'll need to gather some townsfolk to
protect us."

The chef nods. "I agree. I'll
reach out to some trustworthy people. You two," he says, looking
at Oren and Minerva, "and your allies. We'll need you tonight as
well."

"Get some rest," the barmaid
says. "We begin at sundown."

As they leave, Oren stops Minerva. "Hey
wait,” he says, annoyed. “I am a grown up. I am... twenty
something?"

Minerva looks a little surprised. "Oh!
I didn't realize you were in your twenties. I'm sorry." And she
continues to walk.

He looks embarrassed "What? Isn't
it obvious? I'm... clearly... um... well how old are you? You look
like you're young, probably younger than all of us."

She blushes. "Oh! That's very
sweet of you. Thank you, Oren."

"What," he says, confused and
annoyed. They continue to walk back to the inn in awkward silence.

### **The Group Prepares to Defend Saloria**

Evening falls, and as the sun sets, the
party finds the chef on the streets with four other citizens, armed
to various degrees.

"They're not hurt at all,"
Oren whispers to the group.

A dwarf appears up the road, walking
from the healer's house. The mage points at the approaching figure.
“Monster?”

"Aye. A beast from the bramble if
I ever seen it,” Votig confirms.

Marblearm approaches, sees Votig and
makes a beeline for him. "So ya finally managed to get up, ya
little shit. Managed ta find the stones ta come out, eh? I wonder,"
Marblearm continues with a scowl, "how many o'the fiends from
the Bramble yer gonna try ta pay off. Ya know you'll actually have to
**fight** these ones, right?"

Oren, seeing the dwarf that tried to
kill him, quickly tries to hide behind Minerva. She steps away,
exposing him. "I thought you were in your twenties!" she
whispers.

"He tried to kill me!" Oren
whispers back.

"I coulda beat ya then, and I can
still beat ya now,” Votig says, spitting on the ground near
Marblearm's feet. "And if ya say anythin' else, ya won't even be
conscious to see these beasts.”

"Pah," Marblearm says,
spitting back. "Ya think yer so bloody tough? Then prove it
tonight. I'm not gonna kill ya here an' now 'cause the town needs us
and as pathetic as ya are, ya know how ta throw a punch. So ah
challenge ya, Votig. I'll do a better job of savin' the town than
ya'd ever do," he taunts, "'cause me fists're stronger. So
let's prove it on the fiends. I'll kill more of the monsters that
show tonight than ya could ever hope to match."

"What kinda nancy challenge be
that?" Votig laughs "I reckon there be plenty of time
before these beasts come, if they even be real at all. Ya want ta
settle this, then let’s go right now. Not like the town needs the
help of some prissy dwarf anyhow."

Marblearm shakes his head. "Yer
daft. Daft and old and foolish. I thought age brought wisdom but it's
failed to touch ya. What point is there in fightin' right before
we're supposed ta protect the innocent?"

Minerva looks at Marblearm curiously
and says, "Votig, I... I think he's actually got a point."

"Eventually,” Oren whispers
quietly to Eliam and Minerva, “the monsters will show up and it
won't be up to them anymore."

"I just hope you're ready for all
the healing,” Eliam whispers back. “If these guys have no more
magic you're going to get popular really fast."

"That'll be great. Maybe I should
set up the room in the inn now so it's ready for patients, and we can
bring them there?"

"You could probably even charge a
fee for your services. As the only healer they're bound to pay."

Minerva seems pensive. "Maybe.
There are so few of us, though, that we might need you here, healing
on the fly. If someone is badly hurt and we need one or two people to
get them to you, that's three fighters down. Out of, like... Ten of
us."

Votig looks to Minerva "Eh?
There's not even any proof that these monsters be comin'. I think
Oren woulda noticed any strange magic in the forest on the way back;
everythin' seemed fine."

"I never charged before,” Oren
continues whispering to Eliam, “but people paid anyway. Everyone
wants to keep a healer happy."

"If you want to start, now's your
chance,” Eliam replies. “Pick a reasonable number and multiply it
by ten; they can't say no."

Oren shrugs. "That's sort of how
it worked before. They would ask and insist, and I would make up
random numbers."

As they speak, Votig notices the air
gain a mossy scent. Eliam looks out and sees a pile of moss moving
like sludge, rolling toward the party.

The bard points at it. "I think
our first monster is here."

Minerva looks at where he's pointing
and says, "If we get more like that, the others might not stand
a chance. I'm going to break off and join that chef's group for a
short time. With any luck, we'll keep everyone safe and prevent any
citizen blood from being spilled."

Marblearm turns to fight elsewhere as
well, saying, "Don't die, Votig. You owe me a fight."

### **The Group Fights at Saloria**

"Me? Die? Hah!" Votig shouts
back at the other dwarf as he attacks. Votig punches the moss sludge,
but his fists sink easily into the greenish mass.

Votig notices the punch felt odd. It
was as though the majority of the blow was absorbed. As Votig goes to
step back, he cannot pull away for the sludge is holding his hand and
wrist within itself.

Eliam fires a flame blast at the sludge
monster. The moss sludge rolls along the ground behind Votig as the
flame blast approaches. The flame blast strikes Votig in the back.
"Oh god,” Eliam stammers, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Oren pauses to study the sludge
monsters, to see what he can find. He tells the party it's an ooze,
and it will absorb physical blows but is particularly weak to fire.

Votig attempts to throw the ooze at
Eliam. The ooze suddenly propels a massive arm from its core and
swings out at Votig. The movement causes it to lose its grip on
Votig's wrist and he deftly bounces away from the ooze and from the
attack. He winds up another punch, which connects; the damage feels
lessened, but he is also able to immediately pull himself free of the
Ooze.

Eliam attempts a fire spell yet again.
The ooze turns into a ring to allow the flame blast to pass
harmlessly through it, but is just barely caught by the
conflagration. The moss begins to smoulder. The ooze seems to shudder
from the fire as it takes damage from the flame blast.

As the fight continues, there is a
cracking sound in the distance, as if something has just leveled a
tree.

Something races towards the party. It
charges on four legs, head lowered, with a massive horn on its snout.
It's huge, and its grey hide seems scaly and glassy, mutated with the
magics of the Bramble.

The chef, from a distance away, has
turned to look at what has emerged as the crack resonated through the
street. "Is that... No, **was** that a rhino?"

"If it was," Minerva says,
"it isn't anymore."

The group turns its attention towards
the rhino as it approaches them. Votig unleashes a flurry of
devastating blows to the side of the rhino as it charges in,
shattering the glassy scales that coated its body. The rhino staggers
sideways from the blow, and is angered. The force of the attack has
not stopped its momentum but rather turned it so it is now facing
Eliam.

Startled by the sudden turn toward him,
Eliam's arcane blast goes off target. He quickly jumps out of the
rhino's path.

Oren, still concerned about the ooze,
takes out a pint of oil. He unscrews the top and moves toward the
ooze, tossing the bottle at it to cover it in oil. The oil soaks into
the moss, and the fire rages with increased fervor. The ooze, near
death, bursts upwards in a massive wave and attempts to smother Oren.

The ooze tackles the mage to the
ground, covering his legs. Unable to move, Oren pats down his chest
and arms to douse the embers before they alight upon his body.

The rhino, noting no targets before
him, furiously turns in circles until it catches sight of Votig
beside him. It swings its massive head and attempts to impale Votig
on its horn, but the dwarf deftly sidesteps the horn.

A small wooden buiding stands between
where the party fights the ooze and the rhino and the Bramble. Around
the back of the wooden building appears a human skeleton. It is
somehow standing upright, carrying a curved sword in one hand. The
air resonates with the clicks and clatters of bone as it steps
forward.

Oren might be used to dead bodies and
the idea of basic necromancy but this is something no one has seen;
an undead skeleton sauntering forward in the moonlight, weapon poised
and skull clattering. Oren and Votig are startled by the sight, but
Eliam manages to take it in stride.

Votig's attention returns to the rhino
before him, and he launches his fist with such force that it shatters
the glassy scales around the rhino's eye, propelling the punch
through the beast's ocular cavity and shattering its skull. The
splinters of bone ricochet through the fiend's brain and destroy it.

Eliam takes a breath to steady himself
and draws his arcane device. The string pulled taut, magical energy
coalesces throughout the weapon. As Eliam releases his grip, the
arcane blast bolt flies forth, skipping past Oren's cheek and
squarely connecting with the ooze's form. The ooze immediately
dissipates into a slimy liquid and moves no more. Embers remain on
the ground from the fire.

"Hey Votig,” Oren says, pointing
at the skeleton. “Can you kill that guy?" he ducks out of the
action and washes his face and hands, anxious to get the flammable
oil off of himself.

"Ya, alright,” Votig replies as
he turns his attention to the skeleton. “Just guard that horn for
me, will ya?"

The skeleton moves forward toward the
brawler.

Minerva's party, seventy yards east, is
beset by a trio of mutated monsters from the Bramble. One is some
sort of cat-like beast with enlarged fangs and claws. Another is a
lizard with glossy skin and rows upon rows of gnashing teeth. The
third, no one can distinguish a base creature for. It has large,
leathery wings, a humanoid torso with arms that end in claws that
resemble scythes, and a pair of curved, massive horns atop its head.
It has a mouth with teeth but no eyes.

Minerva fights valiantly, as does the
chef. One of their allies has fallen limp in a pool of blood and no
one attempts to offer aid.

Votig's fists glow golden as he swings
at the skeleton, tapping into his powers. The skeleton's bones
shudder as the ground cracks from the force of Votig's blow. The
skeleton continues to move, but is slowed.

Eliam fires an arcane blast at the
skeleton, striking it straight in the chest. It staggers to one knee,
then rises again.

Minerva is shouting and signaling to
her group. The party is too far to make out what she's saying, but
she guides their fight closer to them, attempting to regroup everyone
together.

The skeleton swings at Votig with its
sword, but it fails to connect. Votig strikes back at the skeleton.
His blow strikes true and shatters the skeleton's bones. The monster
collapses to the ground, a pile of disconnected pieces that glow with
a mystical black aura.

The group slowly kites toward the
center of the field as Minerva guides them nearer to the party. All
the combatants take minor hits as they approach.

The bones of the skeleton suddenly
rise. The black aura lifts it back onto its feet, reassembles it, and
returns the sword to its hand. Its movements seem more assured and
capable now. It slashes out at Votig. It misses, but more narrowly
than before.

Oren has never seen an animate skeleton
before, certainly not one that is able to move independently and
engage in combat. He vaguely recognizes the black aura that surrounds
it as some sort of revitalization magic and suspects that physical
assaults are unlikely to disrupt it.

"Eliam, kill it with magic"
Oren orders as he walks back to the rhino horn. He takes out his
knife and carefully saws at the base of the horn. He manages to
create a notch at the base of the horn approximately a quarter of the
way through.

Minerva's group continues to kite
towards the party's position. The combatants gradually weaken as they
take hits.

The skeleton turns its blade once more
on Votig. Its recent revival bolsters its strength. The skeleton's
sword flashes with a black aura and slashes Votig's arm. Votig
clenches his fist and swings out mightily at the skeleton. He
uppercuts, hoping to stun the skeleton momentarily, then brings his
other fist down on the creature's forearm to weaken the skeleton's
grip. He follows up with a final shot at the flat of the fiend's
blade, aiming to knock the weapon away. The skeleton staggers from
the damage but its grip on its weapon remains secure.

Forgetting Oren's directions, Eliam
dashes onward toward Minerva's group, attempting to meet them
halfway. As he sprints, he draws his weapon and begins to pick out a
target from the crowd.

Oren stands after a moment, and calls
to Votig. “This is kind of hard. I'm going to go make sure they
don't die. He runs to the injured recruit from before, still lying in
his pool of blood. One of the other fighters that the chef has
brought begins to stagger as they make their way onward through the
field.

The skeleton's jaw chatters and clacks
following Votig's uppercut. It cuts out at him, aiming again at his
arm, and deepens the wound already present. He punches back. As the
blow connects, the skeleton's unequipped arm falls to the ground, and
its head lolls awkwardly on its neck.

Eliam unleashes an attack at the beast
following the chef. The beast feels the arcane blast impact its wing
and disperse across the leathery texture of its skin. It turns slowly
to look at the bard as a smouldering mark appears where the blast
connected.

Marblearm engages with the lizard. He
chooses to be wary with his punches as the fiend snaps with rows of
teeth any time he gets close. He manages to connect a punch to the
side of the lizard's head for appreciable damage.

The chef tries to land damage on the
winged beast, but has no success. He swings a cleaver in the air but
is unable to hit the flying creature. One of the recruits that the
chef has brought, bleeding heavily, runs away from the battle, trying
to recover.

The cat focuses on Minerva. It is
lightning quick and seems to be sneaking in through her defenses
effortlessly. The cat begins springing around Minerva in circles
until she is unable to protect herself on all sides. It pounces at
her neck when she is unprepared and unleashes a lethal blow with its
fangs. After a brief struggle, she throws off the cat, but there is a
deep wound leaking blood from her neck. She immediately sprints out
of the battle. Her eyes are unfocused and she stumbles in the last
few steps.

The winged beast has determined the
mage who hit him with an arcane blast is a threat and flaps over. The
beast lashes out with giant claws and scores a slash across Eliam's
chest.

The second of the chef's recruits is
enraged at seeing Minerva take such heavy damage. He immediately
turns on the cat with his pitchfork and the cat, complacent from its
last attack, fails to react in time. The pitchfork impales the cat's
hindquarters. It hisses and bounces away.

Votig attempts to punch the skeleton
once more. The skeleton is felled by the punch and collapses to the
ground with a rattling sound, a pile of disjointed bones.

Eliam's arcane blast scores a direct
hit on the beast's chest, blasting it backwards. It flips over in the
air and comes to rest a few yards away, touching down on the ground.

Oren moves towards the injured Minerva,
preparing to heal her grievous wounds.

The lizard lashes out at Marblearm, and
the dwarf follows up his dodge of the lizard's bite by leaping over
it, twisting in mid-air and punching down on top of its head,
slamming it into the ground. Marblearm lands on the far side of the
lizard.

The chef has followed the winged beast,
and now that it has landed he manages to catch it with his cleaver.
The cleaver leaves a long red mark along the back of one of its
wings.

The pitchfork wielding recruit strikes
to draw the cat's attention away from Minerva. The cat turns
furiously on the pitchfork-wielding recruit who has just stabbed him.
The recruit thrusts with his weapon again, but the beast deftly lands
atop the pitchfork, causing the ends of it to sink into the ground.
The feline springs off the weapon and sinks teeth and fangs into the
recruit's neck. He collapses immediately, blood gushing into the
dirt, leg twitching.

Minerva tries to gasp out some thanks
to Oren for his attempt to aid her but the sound will not come. She
instead concentrates all her effort on getting her eyes to focus on
him.

The lizard springs up off the ground
and snaps at Marblearm's ankles. He grunts as its fangs sink home and
leave bloody gashes along his lower leg.

The black aura that surrounds the
skeleton bones somehow deepens. Again, the bones reassemble into a
warrior. The skeleton seems to be moving more quickly. It moves
closer to the battle, prepared to fight yet again.

The winged beast turns on the chef, but
fails to land a blow. The bard takes the opportunity to switch
targets and draw the cat's attention away from the injured. His
arcane blast smacks the cat in the side of the head. It hisses and
turns its eyes on him, its fangs bared.

Votig abandons his duel with the
skeleton, realizing it has only grown stronger. He runs into the
melee. "One of ya wanna take care o' that thing?" he says
to Eliam and Oren as he passes them.

Oren continues to heal Minerva,
focusing on stopping the bleeding from her neck.

Marblearm sees Votig approaching and
shouts, "Ah, ye finally gonna come an' do somethin', little
one?!” He shoots a cocky grin at Votig as he double punches the
lizard's side, attempting to hit it where the scales are not as
tough. The lizard hisses out as the blows connect.

The chef attacks the winged beast with
his cleaver again, a long red line appearing along its back as the
weapon lands true. The recruit that had retreated to perform first
aid on himself feels stronger and moves back into the fray to aid the
chef. The winged beast is angered by the chef and brings his claws to
bear, but fails to hit him.

The cat's closest target is now Eliam,
and, having just taken at attack from the bard, the beast feels it is
time to exact some measure of revenge. The cat lunges forward and
slashes out with sharp claws. The assault connects.

Minerva is breathing heavily but she
removes her hands from her neck. The bandages have helped her for the
time being. "Thank you, Oren. You may have saved my life."
She looks at the skeleton that Votig has asked her and Oren to
defeat. "He likes to leave us fun jobs, doesn't he?"

The recruit that had wielded the
pitchfork breathes no more, as his wounds overtake him.

The lizard turns to snap at Marblearm
and fails to connect as the dwarf deftly spins around its body.

"Mind yer tongue lad, les' you end
up like that rhino." Votig charges into the battle, launching
himself at the lizard and Marblearm both. Upon entering melee range,
he feints, slips behind Marblearm, and swings at his rival. Marblearm
is unprepared for the attack and flies into the lizard. He lands atop
the beast, massaging his jaw.

Eliam aims an arcane blast at the cat.
The arcane blast ruffles the cat's fur. It shudders and continues
prowling toward Eliam.

Marblearm glares at Votig, and his eyes
are full of unstable rage. "**Is our battle worth this town, ya**
daft bastard?!**" He pushes himself up off of the lizard,**
grabs the beast's tail, and with a mighty effort, he swings the
creature so that its razor-sharp teeth cut across Votig's body.

The last remaining recruit turns away
from the chef and moves to assist Eliam with the cat. He swings out
with a spear at it and scrapes the cat's side with the edge of the
weapon.

Oren steps backwards, preparing to
defend himself from the quickly advancing skeleton. Minerva notes
Oren's intention and draws back to a safer distance from the skeleton
with him.

The lizard is enraged and bites out at
the first target it can find, which happens to be Votig. Saliva drips
from its maw as it unleashes a mighty blow with such ferocity and
speed that it is capable of dual striking on both dwarves.

The winged beast flashes its claws
across the chef's body in a flurry of slices. The chef steps back
slightly as he soaks the hits.

"Talk shit get hit, lad!” Votig
shouts as he punches Marblearm once more. The punch connects with
Marblearm's face. He staggers back a foot with the force of the
punch, but then turns, spits out a tooth and blood, and grins. "Now
this... **this** is what I wanted!"

Eliam leaves the cat to the recruit,
and sends a spell towards the skeleton. The flame blast sweeps over
the skeleton and darkens its bones.

Marblearm is astonished. He thinks
Votig is being stupider than he has ever remembered him being, but
his blood is boiling to fight and he finds himself enjoying it. He
steps into a punch and delivers a gut shot to Votig, driving his fist
into the dwarf's stomach.

The chef notice this and, distracted,
misses his attack on the winged beast. "HEY!” He shouts. “Is
this really the time?!"

The recruit fails his attack against
the cat, which pounces at Eliam. With blinding speed, it lands on his
back and knocks him prone, then presses its advantage with a
lightning attack. Minerva notes Eliam faltering and turns around to
attack the cat. Her attack fails to land, but it does force the cat
to back off of the bard a little so he can stand up.

The lizard chooses to take a bite out
of Marblearm and sinks its fangs into his leg.

The skeleton advances to attack Oren.
Its sword flashes in quick succession, landing a mighty blow that
knocks the mage prone. The skeleton quickly adopts a defensive
stance.

The winged beast howls, unfurls its
massive wings, and dives at the chef, who was distracted shouting at
Votig and Marblearm to get on the same side. It unleashes a pair of
attacks at lightning speed on the chef, who staggers backwards.

Votig decks Marblearm in the shoulder
as the latter shuffles to avoid the brunt of the blow. Marblearm's
eyes study the battlefield, lingering overlong on the skeleton
approaching Minerva and Oren. He quickly runs his hand over his chin
and face, then turns back to Votig, thinking hard.

Oren stands up, smacking the skeleton
with his mace. The skeleton catches the weapon with his own sword and
deflects it, leering.

Marblearm considers the battlefield one
last time, examining the monsters still surrounding the party and
Votig's relentless battle rage. He scowls one last time at the other
dwarf, then turns and sprints away past the chef's party.

The chef's eyes widen as he notices the
dwarf fleeing, and he is so distracted by the exit that he fails to
hurt the winged beast.

The last fighting recruit swings out at
the cat, and lands an impressive blow, knocking the beast to the
ground. The fiend struggles to stand.

Minerva attempts to shatter the
skeleton with her daggers, but it is too evasive for her. She
staggers back in shock. "How is this thing so bloody fast?!"

The lizard snaps at Votig, leaping at
him but the boxer calmly deflects its attack and it lands harmlessly
on the ground.

The skeleton turns to Minerva and
strikes. She parries the worst of the slash but takes a grazing blow
down her left arm.

The winged beast latches onto the chef
with its large claws and grabs him, throwing him through the air. The
beast lands without grace but manages to regain his feet and prepare
for the next assault. The chef stumbles as he stands. His breathing
is heavy.

"Ya tha's right, run ya lil shit.
RUN!" Votig screams as Marblearm disappears past the horizon. He
turns and punches the lizard in the face, careful not to let down his
guard fully. The lizard spits at him as his fists fall short of his
target.

Eliam shoots an arcane blast at the
cat. The cat crouches and the arcane blast rolls along its fur,
singing it but leaving no damage to the cat's body.

Oren strikes the skeleton with his
mace, but is unable to do any appreciable damage.

Marblearm has fully withdrawn from the
battle and disappeared up the road in the direction of the healer's
house. The chef cries out, "If I die, I die protecting all of
Saloria!" He charges in against the winged beast, his cleaver
flashing. The beast takes to the skies and evades it easily.

Minerva steps back and defends,
concerned about the skeleton. The skeleton swings at Minerva, but she
evades the assault.

The lizard leaps and closes its jaws on
Votig's arm. Votig manages to shake it off.

The winged beast divebombs the chef,
who barely manages to roll out of the way. The chef struggles
significantly to return to his feet.

Votig quicksteps to the side to put
both lizard and cat in immediate range, then clenches his fist as his
eyes glow golden. He slams his punch into the ground, causing tremors
to strike both the cat and lizard. The cat immediately collapses as
rock and stone become jarred loose from the earth and tear through
its body. The lizard, bleeding profusely, remains standing on shaking
legs.

Eliam attempts to kill the skeleton
with an arcane blast, but the skeleton uses its sword to cut the
arcane blast in half as it sails toward it. As the skeleton's sword
is down from slashing at Eliam's attack, Oren has a clear line with
which to attack it. Oren's morningstar smashes through the skeleton's
head, knocking it clean off its neck. The skeleton picks it up off
the ground and replaces it.

The chef, fatigued and shaking, manages
another attack on the winged beast. The cleaver lands true but seems
to glance off as the chef is too hurt and tired to put real strength
into his attack. The recruit moves to help with the winged beast, but
fails entirely to land a hit.

Minerva spins her daggers in her hands
as her eyes glow red. She stares down the skeleton as flames begin to
dance from the edge of her weapons. Dancing in low, she brandishes
her daggers with alarming speed, and as she deftly begins to
dismantle the foe's bones, the fire of her magic severs the black
aura that has been enveloping the skeleton.

The bones collapse to the ground in a
heap, blacken, and turn to ash. The breeze scatters the remains.

The lizard, exhausted, can do no more
than feebly nip at Votig's heels.

The winged beast unfurls its massive
wings and stretches its long claws. The chef looks up and attempts to
defend himself but the beast is too quick. It charges at blinding
speed, its scythe-like hands sinking through the chef's chest. The
chef drops his cleaver and attempts to clutch at the claws in his
chest but already he knows it is too late. The winged beast flies
into the air with him, and about fifteen feet up, snaps its arms. The
chef's body slides off the claws with a sickening scraping sound, and
lands with a dull thud on the dirt.

Votig holds his hands out to the lizard
in a non-threatening manner. He slowly reaches for some dried meat
from his rations, and offers it to the lizard. The lizard snaps at
the meat, but also snaps at his hand as the dwarf slowly moves to pet
it.

Eliam aims at the flying beast. The
arcane blast strikes the beast's hide and dissipates against its
body.

"I'll help you in a minute, sorry"
Oren says to Minerva, running to aid the fallen chef. Upon arriving
at the chef, he detects no pulse. There are two large holes through
his chest, through which the mage can see the stained ground beneath
him. He is too far gone for healing.

Oren stands up, realizing nothing can
be done. He walks to Votig and crosses his arms. "What are you
doing?"

The recruit picks up his comrade's
fallen pitchfork, spins it, and leaps into the air, bringing it down
in a vertical arc. It gashes against one of the beast's wings,
tearing away some of the leathery exterior. Minerva sees Votig low to
the ground with the lizard. She can't see what he's doing, but she
immediately panics, having already seen enough people she cares for
die in combat.

Her face flushes, and she comes
sprinting to Votig. "Votig, don't worry! I'm coming!" Her
daggers spin in her hand as she approaches.

Votig jumps in front of her, preparing
to take the blow she meant for the lizard. “Calm yerself, lass!
He's just scared, y'see? And hungry,” he adds, tossing another
piece of meat near him. “We got a lot in common, me and him. We
both hate tha' Marblearm fellah, and we both been messed up by the
magic puddle. He just needs a new home, is all. The forest be no
place for him anymore.”

Minerva holds her attack at Votig's
words. "The... The magically-mutated lizard monster...needs a
home. Right. Yes. Okay."

The lizard sniffs curiously at the new
meat, then looks up at Votig. It hisses, but eats.

The winged beast is enraged by the
recruit. It charges with its horns, but the recruit parries most of
the attack with his pitchfork.

While the lizard eats, Votig reaches
out to pet it again. The moment he touches the lizard, his eyes flash
golden. The flow extends to his fingertips as a rush of magic enters
the beast. A light shines briefly from the lizard's eyes, then
recedes, leaving them clear. The lizard looks up at Votig, blinks,
and then nuzzles his foot.

As the lizard is tamed, Eliam shoots at
the winged beast one last time. The winged beast shudders in mid-air
as the blast explodes on it. It lands on the ground, but is not quite
felled. The recruit continues his engagement with the winged beast
but is beginning to look around for more assistance. He fails to land
a blow.

Minerva shrugs and said, "Well, I
guess there's just one more to go..." She dashes off to attack
the winged beast, but misses with her daggers.

The lizard, wounded, cranes its head up
to look at Votig. It shifts its gaze to the winged beast, then back
at Votig as if to ask, 'Can I?'"

"Nay, ye done enough for right
now. That lass can handle it, I assume." The lizard nibbles on
the last of the meat given to it. It looks somehow disappointed.

The winged beast roars, an echoing
bellow that splits the night. It glides forward and snaps the
recruit's pitchfork with a mighty slashing of its claws. The recruit
turns to gain distance but the beast is upon him too quickly. The
fiend lifts him into the air, slashes at him with its horns, and
throws him through the air about ten yards. The recruit stirs feebly,
attempting to rise but struggling.

Oren manages to wrap up many of the
lizard's worst injuries. It warily sniffs at Oren's foot, then rests
it’s head on Votig's feet. The recruit quickly tries and fails to
wrap up his own wounds.

The lizard looks up at Votig curiously.
It looks at the winged beast, then back at Votig. It stands.

"A'right, go on then. Just be
safe, ya hear? If ya get hit, come on back."

The lizard trots off excitedly,
snapping at the air. When in range, it leaps at the winged beast and
chomps on its leg.

The winged beast retaliates by kicking
out and sending the lizard flying off of its ankle. The lizard
crashes into the ground and stands slowly.

"Chompy, no!” Votig cries. “Get
ta Oren, he'll patch ya up!" Votig charges in and lands a solid
punch on the beast's face. Staggered, it lands on the earth and
roars.

The winged beast screeches, howls, and
falls to its knees. Its wings catch flame and flake off its body in
chunks as Eliam's flame blast hits it.

Oren walks over and patches up the
recruit. The recruit stumbles over to his discarded spear and
collects it.

Minerva, still somewhat perplexed,
moves to support her new lizard ally. Her daggers flash in the night
as she gracefully leaps atop the beast's back and drives the point of
her weapons in a lethal blow into the fiend's neck and spine. The
beast gurgles, unable to scream, and crashes to the ground, a cloud
of dust rising around it, Minerva still astride its newly-defeated
corpse. The rogue steps off delicately, looks at the lizard, and
makes an obvious show of slowly sheathing her daggers as she makes
eye contact with it. The lizard seems less tense, and it trots off to
sit at Votig's heels.

**Chapter 4**