Chapter 5

She has requested the party meet her
for lunch within the Lyriad's headquarters.

Heather has
settled down to work with her friend, who also managed to put the
finishing touches on a certain sweet-ass belt.

Minerva is
seated at the table, speaking quietly to Elise as Oren enters. The
young healer is also seated.

Minerva smiles as Oren arrives.
"Hi, Oren. Thanks for coming."

Elise gives the mage
a warm smile as well.

He sits down quietly across from them,
failing to return their greetings.

Elise fails to get the hint
and gets out of her seat to sit next to him. "I was thinking...
We really only made it here because your magic warned us about danger
that might have been on the road! You must be an incredibly powerful
mage..."

While they speak, Eliam comes downstairs and
joins them. Minerva waves at Eliam as he nears the table. "Good
of you to join us, Eliam. Thank you."

Oren shakes his
head. "Not really."

Elise's mouth forms a small 'o'
as she looks wondrously at Oren. In an undertone, she whispers, "Only
the strongest mages are humble about it..."

Minerva sets
the table with meats, cheeses, breads, and cold ales. "I do so
hope Votig will be here soon... It would be a shame if the beer got
warm."

"Eliam is a much better mage than me,” Oren
tries to deflect. “He has natural skill, he's really talented
without studying"

The bard laughs at what is clearly a
joke. "Let's not give them the wrong idea! I can do some basic
spells but you're definitely the one to go to if you want magic
done."

"Well, I was hoping to go to all of you,"
Minerva says, sitting and popping some cheese into her mouth. "We've
had plans to go to Fallowfield. I think things have settled enough
here that it's time to take that trip."

"Yes. We
should go, we have a lot to do there," Oren agrees.

"What
do you know of Fallowfield?" Minerva asks, looking at
Elise.

Elise shrugs, then begins to speak with a dreamy tone.
"It's the high holy seat of Sylvatir. Priests and monks pray
there to the Maker in thanks for sparing our country in ancient
times. They also reaffirm the Council's divine right to rule
annually. It's not really that interesting." She tilts her head
back and looks up, frowning slightly.

Minerva adds, "They
also hold records of all the old myths and legends... or histories,
for those things which might be more real than myths or legends might
suggest." She slowly offers a significant look at Eliam and Oren
in turn.

"You mean the wellspring," Elise says
simply.

"N-no," Minerva says, lying pitifully. Her
shoulders sag. "Okay, yes."

"Well, at least
this will be a fun trip," Elise says. "Get to Fallowfield,
learn about the wellsprings, and find our way to Thirshalon."
She says this last bit without a hint of self-consciousness.

"Aren't
you excited?" she asks, looking at Oren and Eliam.

"Yes,”
Oren nods. “We can help cure Votig of his curse too. Has anyone
seen him? He left when we got here and hasn't been back..."

"I invited him," Minerva says, drinking from her ale.
"I hope he's here, soon. I'd hate to have to drink his for
him..."

As if on cue, Votig throws open the doors. "AH
LADDIES! I FEEL LIKE I HAVENT SEEN YE IN AGES." He sits with
Oren and Eliam, Chompy following at his heels.

"Oh hi,”
Oren greets him politely. “We were just wondering where you were."

"Good to see you, too, Votig," Minerva smiles. She
pats Chompy warmly. "And you, of course." Chompy snaps
excitedly and cuddles into her hand.

"We were just
discussing going to Fallowfield," Minerva says.
"Thoughts?"

"Wait... is that your new belt?"
Eliam asks Votig.

"Ah, ye. Oren wanted to research goin'
to thirshaloo, aye?" Votig says cheerfully. "Why yes it is!
I knew ye were a lad of fine taste." Votig hops up onto the
table, showing it off. The belt resembles a boxer's belt, with a
preserved rhino horn at the center. Lettering around the edge reads
“world class rhino puncher”.

"That's amazing"
Eliam says.

Oren looks at Minerva. "What's the best way
to Fallowfield?"

"The fastest route would be to
travel the road southeast. It would take three or four days depending
on how fast we move. The danger is that we'd have to go right past
the capitol, Siraj... The Council themselves sit there so orcs are
always patrolling and looking for excuses to swing their fists,"
she replies.

"Alternatively, we could drive the wagon
southeast through the field in more of a straight line; it would take
a couple of extra days and be less comfortable, but odds are we'd be
much safer."

"Will they bother us?” Oren asks.
“We're not criminals, maybe they'll let us pass
through.”

Minerva's face grows dark. "Maybe. Maybe not.
Remember, a crime could be that we breathed too loudly. That our
wheel wasn't the right shape. That we had apples they wanted."

"I
mean, we could just fight them off, right? We've gotten pretty good
at it," Eliam says.

"We have a world class rhino
puncher with us, it might be alright..." Oren adds.

"We
gotta keep up the practice, yeh? Been too long without a fight,"
Votig says.

"...But we should avoid attention too"
Oren continues.

"What's the worst that could happen,
lad?"

"We all die," Elise says
casually.

Minerva looks at her with concern. Elise responds,
"Well, it's the worst that could happen."

"You're
not wrong," Eliam shrugs.

"Exactly! So that's
settled then, yeh? We fight," Votig decides.

"No,
avoiding a fight is better than winning one," Oren
replies.

"Perhaps we should vote," Minerva says.
"I'm happy to risk the road; I'm sure we can kill and outrun
some orcs if we have to."

Elise says, "I think
discretion is the best choice of all. We should take the field."

"I
vote road. No orc ever stopped me before," Votig says. "And
Chompy agrees."

"Either route is fine with me.
Sounds like the road is popular though," Eliam says.

"That
officer named Ish'an is looking for us. If we fight more police we
may attract attention. Then they might trace us to Fallowfield.
Shouldn't we avoid them?" Oren asks.

"He been
lookin' fer us fer awhile and still hasn't found us,” Votig
says.

"He followed us to Saloria and will be on the way
back here by now,” Oren points out. “If he hears we went that way
but didn't stop at the capital he'll know where we went. There aren't
a lot of options and he'll know what happened at the wellspring. He
knows what we look like so it won't take long for him to find us
there."

"We'll just beat him then too, right? I
mean, we haven't lost a fight yet,” Eliam says.

Oren picks
at his food and shrugs. "You guys decide. I don't mind, I just
want to get there."

"Then it's settled then, aye?
The road," Votig says agreeably.

"Works for me,”
Eliam says. “I'm sure it will work out fine.”

"Okay,"
says Minerva. "We'll travel by road. I'll get the wagon set. If
there's anything you want to do or anyone you want to speak to before
we leave tomorrow morning, do it today."

"I guess
this is goodbye for now, eh Elise? Was nice havin' ye and yer sister
along.”

Elise looks puzzled. "Oh, will you not be
coming with us? Well, thank you for your excellent driving to get us
this far, Votig. I'll miss you!" And she hugs him before he can
respond.

"Wait, Votig is coming with us..." Oren
says, looking confused and concerned.

"Oh, is it a game,
then? I see! Yes... 'Goodbye' to you, too, Votig!" Elise
continues.

"I think he means you aren't coming with us,
Elise,” Eliam clarifies. “But uh... wait, what about all the
prophecy stuff? And the vision from the well?"

"Oh,
that would be weird. I'm certainly joining you," Elise says
confidently.

Oren shrugs. "It doesn't matter, there's
room in the wagon."

"This be our fight, lass, not
yers. Ye and yer sister would be safer stayin' here, I
reckon."

"Your fight doesn't interest me," she
says airily. "I've got my own reasons for visiting."

"What
reasons are those?" Eliam asks.

She shrugs. "I'm not
sure. Perhaps the wind will tell me one day."

"Well, I respect yer sister
too much to risk havin' ye hurt by gettin' caught up in our fight.
Plus ya should stay with yer family, a kid yer age shouldn't be
runnin' off with these orcs about."

Oren sighs. "Is your sister
coming?"

"You can ask her, but she
seems quite happy settling into work here,” Elise answers. “I
think she'll stay."

Eliam frowns, and looks at her.
"The well wasn't really clear... for all we know it was warning
us to stay away from you."

Elise smiles. "Well, it's a
good thing you'll be around to keep an eye on me, then. I'll go feed
the horses," she says, "and make sure they're ready for
tomorrow." She walks from the room, head tilted back.

"I don't see the problem, she
can keep Minerva company,” Oren says once she's left. “She
doesn't like us anyway so it'll give her someone to talk to."

"I've
got enough to handle watchin' after you lads, and lil' Chompy. I
can't be addin' more to that list."

"Then let her
die, she's not your responsibility." Oren says, getting up and
returning to his room. Votig remains downstairs to finish the food,
and Eliam leaves to see what the bars have to offer.

Minerva sits speechless as the
group leaves. She's hurt from Oren's words.

Minerva has been oddly quiet,
though kind, for the journey thus far.

As the group approaches
the capitol, the road becomes increasingly backed up with traffic.
Wagons and travelers are stuck in a line one behind the
other...

Minerva cranes her head up over the line of wagons.
"Hard to see what's going on up there..."

"Maybe
one of ya should check it out," Votig suggests.

Oren looks at Eliam as if to say 'not
it,' and begins to cast, searching for the items he's marked. He
detects Elise's staff three feet to his right, and Samson's axe about
a two hours' caravan ride on the road behind them.

"Ish'an
is behind us,” Oren tells Minerva. “That is, if he has your
father's axe. He's about two hours from us. Maybe we can hide..."
he looks outside the wagon, assessing the landcape. There is only
grassland to the left and right of the road; he sees no obvious
avenue for concealment. Quietly, he sits back down.

Eliam
begrudgingly steps out to see what he can see on the road, staying
close to the wagon.

The road ahead is lined with wagons. A
few orcs are pausing at each wagon to speak to the driver.
Occasionally, one of the orcs will take something from the wagon's
hold. Sometimes the driver notices; sometimes they do not. The orcs
are presently about ten wagons ahead on the road, and moving backward
gradually.

Minerva catches sight of the orcs and discerns
their intentions. "They're robbing caravans on the way by. If
we're going to stay here, we should try to hide anything we don't
care to risk losing."

Elise leans back against the
interior side of the wagon, gazing skyward, lost in thought. She
snaps out of her reverie to state, "There's a small hold beneath
the seats they might not check, but it won't hold much."

Half
an hour passes. The orcs have been speaking with each caravan,
liberating some items, before finally reaching the wagon. There are
five of them. Two stop just beside the driver's seat, while the other
three flank around the rear and sides of the wagon, watching. One of
the orcs, bored, speaks to Votig in the front. "Where?"

"Wherever
the road takes us, lad,” Votig answers him. “Just a travelin'
group o' performers. Y'see our bard? Why, he played for the mayor of
Saloria. He's quite famous."

The orc steps up on the
wheel to look into the back to confirm Votig's story. He looks at
Oren. "Bard?"

Oren points at Eliam, who glares at
him in return.

The orc shifts his gaze. "Bard?
Play."

Eliam grabs his lute nervously. "Well, I
can't perform alone. It can only truly be experienced with everyone
else's performance as well. The dwarf is quite the dancer, you know.
He's the true star of our performances."

Elise tilts her
head. "Oh, but you have played for so long! I'm sure you could
make such a wonderful melody for us. Do play!"

"I'm
sure they'd much rather see the real star show off! Come on, Votig,”
Eliam says with a laugh.

"Can't dance without music, lad,
d'ye think I'm a savage?"

The orc at the rear of the
wagon steps up on the back of the vehicle. He grabs the frame of the
roof to steady himself, and puts his other hand on the end of Elise's
staff, which she is currently clutching. She immediately blanches.
The orc says, "The captain asked for music. You pay in music or
you pay in possessions."

Elise looks with desperation at
Eliam. Minerva's hand is subtly inching toward her dagger. They wait
for someone to make a move.

"Why?" Oren asks the
orc.

"Hey now, no need for threats,” the bard says.
“But you know... it's hard to play under this much pressure. You
can't expect good music when you pressure us like this.”

Eliam
sings a rhythmic and guttural bar tavern opus that tells of tales and
ales, and the orcs tap their massive toes and adopt dim grins on
their faces. The orc captain at the front is bobbing his head. As he
listens to Eliam sing, he notices Chompy and goes to pat the lizard.
Chompy is a little nervous at this massive stranger dropping a giant
hand out of the sky at him. He nips at the orc's fingers, scratching
one slightly. The orc examines his hand, then guffaws and labels
Chompy a fighter.

Eliam sings The Tale of the Dwarven
Isle.

"The strangest thing I ever had to see;
It came
to pass the day I set sail north.
Where naught but silv'ry ocean
should there be
There was an island and on it, a dwarf.

'Ahoy!'
said I, from waves and oceans blue,
'Ahoy!' said he, from paradise
alone.
'This doesn't seem like quite the place for you,'
I
said. He laughed, 'My skills, I come to hone.'

That dwarf, he
stole away amidst the night
To dwell amongst the salt and sea and
brine
For only he was gifted with the sight
T'see ocean waves
and dwarven ale entwined.

So drain your pints and sing a
bolstered tune
The ocean's grog has risen with the moon."

As
Eliam sings the final notes, the orcs, amazingly, grunt noises of
approval. Minerva looks very confused.

The orc at the back of
the wagon, spouting a large, toothless grin, spits, "Again."
His hold on Elise's staff has not been released.

Eliam
complies, surprised at his own success as well.

The orcs are
noticeably less impressed this time around, but they still seem
somewhat appeased. The captain at the front says, "Song was
good. Lizard's fun. Your payment has been satisfied for me. Boys?"
Three of the orcs move back to the front of the wagon with their
captain. The only one who hasn't moved is the one at the back
gripping Elise's staff.

He shrugs with a nasty smile. "I
said music or possessions. You chose music. Now you pay one
possession, not many. Give staff."

"Why?" Oren
asks the orc again.

"Listen here lad,” Votig addresses
the orc seriously. “We gave multiple songs. The way I see it, we're
even. One song one possession, or two songs, yeh? Fair's fair."

The
orc at the back says, "One music twice is still one music. Just
repeated. Staff." In responds, Oren takes out his morningstar
and offers it to the orc instead.

"That's called an
encore. Like I said, he's famous, right? Known across the land.
Normally ya gotta tip pretty big for one of those. It's a pretty even
trade." Votig's words have reached the orcs, who now wave him on
to the open road ahead. The four orcs begin to walk back to the next
wagon in line. They gesture for the last orc to follow as they walk
away.

"Eliam that was some good singing, I think. I
didn't know you were a professional,” Oren says as he puts his mace
back. “And Votig can dance. Hopefully we can see that
someday..."

"No kidding!” Eliam says, assuming the
mage is trying to continue their lie. “Too bad they didn't ask him
for a performance."

The fifth orc, however, is
insistent. His captain has given him no orders, just a suggestion,
and so he chooses to press the issue. With a savage grin, he lets go
of the caravan roof, and pushes off from Elise with his free hand.
The staff comes free from her hands and the orc carries it down with
him to the ground. Elise lands heavily on her seat in the caravan.

Oren quickly hops down to him, mace in
hand, ready to offer a trade once again.

Minerva is set to
move but surprisingly, Elise is faster. Those of the party who are
magically inclined feel aether concentrating around them. The young
healer's body glows with a purple aura, and she growls, "That's
mine." Elise kicks off the back of the caravan as her body seems
to fade. Half-visible, she launches herself like an arrow toward the
orc. Her hand closes on the staff but her body doesn't slow down;
before anyone can blink, they witness her pass straight through the
orc; the staff has faded and is pulled through with her. She kicks
off the ground, turns and leaps back onto the rear of the
caravan.

"GO," she shouts at Votig as she reaches
down to offer Oren a hand back up. Oren accepts her hand after a
brief pause, and returns to a seat, careful to sit away from
Elise.

"Nothin' but trouble," Votig grumbles to
himself as he presses the horses onwards, "after all I did
tryin' to get us out of that..."

Eliam stares at the
healer, then turns to Minerva, trying to see if she knew what she was
capable of. As the caravan ramps up into motion, a few of the orcs
half-heartedly pursue but they are quickly beaten out by the speed of
the horses. A tense minute passes as the wagon picks up speed and the
orcs begin to move further and further away. Finally, they are far
enough in the distance that the party is able to breathe a sigh of
relief.

As soon as she sees that they are far away, Elise
immediately turns to Oren with misty eyes. She says, "You went
in without hesitation just for me... for my staff. Thank you, Oren."
She kisses him on the cheek, then sits next to him and leans into him
as she clenches her staff to her body with her arms. She looks up to
the clouds as the caravan travels and in that moment, before anyone
says anything, she looks as happy and as content as you have ever
seen anyone.

As she leans against him, Oren looks
uncomfortable and confused.

Eliam continues to stare at her.
"What?"

Minerva says, "Yeah, what Eliam
said."

"Eliam did all the singing..." Oren
tries to deflect Elise's attention away, scooting away from her
towards the bard.

Elise continues her lean at a lower angle.
She hasn't seemed to notice, yet, that anyone has asked something of
her.

The barred, undeterred, repeats himself. "No, I...
what? What did you do back there?"

Elise sits up,
realizing Oren has moved, and looks puzzled. "W-what do you
mean?"

"With the magic. What was that?" Eliam
asks.

For the first time, she takes her eyes from the cloud
and looks groundward. "I'm... I'm not really sure. Can you not
do that?"

Eliam glances at Oren, wondering if this is a
normal mage spell. He shakes his head no.

"Maybe the
clouds just like me," she says airily, then goes back to looking
at the sky. Minerva sends a meaningful look toward Oren and
Eliam.

The two days pass uneventfully. Elise attempts to sit
by Oren a few more times than random chance would allow, and Oren
nervously looks for alternative seating places that Elise would not
be able to join him in. Eliam quietly picks at his lute, wondering if
maybe he should pursue a career on stage, and Votig takes occasional
naps while letting Chompy take the reins.

Upon arriving at the Holy
Church of Fallowfield, the group is stunned to see the size and
grandeur of the location. The church is a veritable ancient castle,
with massive stained glass windows and walls of thick stone. Above
the entrance, the largest stained glass of all rests, containing an
image of the skyglyph. There is a silence which permeates this place;
it is as though sound is absorbed into these walls, rather than
echoing off of them.

"Now this would be a place to get
our army goin'," Votig says as they approach.

Robed
monks tread softly in and out of various rooms and doorways; it seems
impossible, at first glance, to imagine knowing where they all lead.
Minerva nervously glances around. "I wouldn't even joke, Votig.
I feel watched. Listened to."

"Well," Elise
says, "It is a church. Wouldn't the Maker be listening?"

"Yes," Minerva answers dryly.
"The magic invisible skyman is listening."

"Well,
there you go," says Elise innocently.

A monk notices the party's arrival and
walks over to the caravan. He bows. "Greeting, travelers. May
the Maker shine upon your steps this day."

"Where's
your library?" Oren asks, wasting no time.

"Enter
the building and take the eastern wing. Follow it to the end of the
hallway, take the stairs up, then enter the third door on the left,"
he answers effortlessly.

Oren quietly follows his directions.
Elise tags along, following him closely. "Eliam really wanted to
hang out with you today, you shouldn't be rude," he says,
stopping to try to convince her to leave him alone.

"Oh, did he?" says Elise.
"I'll have to make sure I spend some time with him when we get
back..."

"Uh, sir," says the monk,
"I should point out that much of our library is restricted
unless you have a letter of introduction."

"Oh,
wait, Oren. Do you have a letter?" asks Elise.

Minerva
says, "I think Linea gave us something, didn't she? Oren, before
you go, check the back of the caravan. There should be a letter in a
white envelope. An introduction from Linea should be more than
enough; she studied here for a time many years ago." Minerva
gestures toward the caravan. "I think it's in the front pocket
of my bag, next to Elise's." Oren ignores them all, and walks
off towards the library.

Eliam shrugs at the monk
apologetically. "I'll go and get it. Sorry. I promise you we do
have a letter. Minerva can explain more if you need."

He
steps away to the back of the wagon, and begins searching through the
party's possessions. As his search proves unsuccessful, he shouts,
"did you even bring a bag?!"

"Yes,” Minerva shouts back,
“it's the brown one under the bench!"

"Which
bench?" shouts Eliam. "The one on the right!" replies
Minerva.

The bard continues his fruitless search. "It's
not under here!" shouts Eliam. "Try your other right!"
answers Minerva with slight exasperation.

Frustrated, Eliam
finally finds the appropriate bag. As he goes to open it, he finds a
white envelope on the ground a foot away from it. He assumes it must
have jostled loose during the drive.

Before picking up the
envelope, Eliam takes the opportunity to check Elise's bag for
anything suspicious. He finds some food rations, a book about clouds,
some spare clothes, some cloths he doesn't recognize, and a
hairbrush.

"Eliam, what's taking so long?" Minerva
calls from outside. "Do you need me to come help?"

Not wanting to risk getting caught, he
takes the letter from the floor and returns to Minerva.

"Thank you, Eliam,” Minerva
says. “Oren and Elise have already gone off to the library. Can you
take this up to them? I'll help Votig park and we can join you
after."

"Of course! And if you need anything else,
you can always ask," Eliam says cheerfully as he heads up the
steps.

The monk guides Minerva and Votig to a place where they
can park their wagon, and gives them keys for some rooms to stay in.
The rooms are spacious so they offer a room for Votig, Oren, and
Eliam, and a second room for Elise and Minerva. The monks offer to
move the luggage up to their rooms as well, and Minerva sees no
reason to refuse.

As the monk takes the bags, Votig leans in
close. "What kinda beer's yer town famous for, lad? I'm sure ye
monks got yer own brews."

"None is kept in the
church, sir, but there is a pub down the road. We ask only that you
return of sound enough mind to be quiet and respectful, and refrain
from urinating on the geraniums."

"Hey,"
Minerva says to Votig, "How about we pass on the keys and make
sure the others know where the rooms are, and then we can head down
for a drink or three."

"We? I figured ye'd be goin'
to the library for a night of readin' and disappointment," he
answers.

Minerva cocks an eyebrow. "Why, Votig, if I
wanted to be disappointed, I'd ask you to keep up with me in drinks."
She walks off to the library. "Come on, this won't take but five
minutes."

Minerva and Votig arrive in the library shortly
after Eliam. A monk is explaining to Oren and Elise why they cannot
access most of the library's texts. It seems the bard has not yet had
a moment to reveal the letter. "Sorry for the wait,” he says,
holding the paper out to the monk. “As you can see we have a valid
letter of introduction.”

The librarian monk receives the
envelope and opens it delicately. He takes a moment to read it
carefully, then looks back and forth between Elise and Minerva. He
looks back down at the letter, then up at the two women again.

Down, up. It's almost comical.

He
immediately turns and walks away from the party, wordlessly.

Oren
quickly walks past him, and walks to the section of books he hopes
contains a book on Thirshalon. The monk nods at a guard standing in
the hall outside the door. The guard pulls the heavy wooden door
closed. There is a large **thud**.

Oren looks around,
gathering books on Thirshalon, the wellsprings, the chosen Children
prophecy, and removing curses. He throws the books that look
promising haphazardly at Elise, who takes them happily.

The
monk begins to pull on a rope next to the door. A deep, low bell
begins resounding throughout the hallways of the church.

Minerva
says, "So... now that you're good, Votig and I are going to go
for drinks up the road, I think. We have some rooms here in the
church."

Eliam notices no one else is worried about the
monk's behavior, finds a seat and tries to take a nap, ignoring the
books.

Oren continues his search. Oren finds a
book titled, "Thirshalon: The Ancient Scourge" I'll just
keep grabbing books that seem relevant until Elise and I can't carry
more And go sit near Eliam And start reading the first one I
guess

Minerva, message delivered, says, "Okay, Votig. Are
you ready for beer?"

"Aye. Yer goin' down,
lass."

"Bring it," Minerva answers. She moves
to the door and pushes. It won't budge. The bell continues to ring
throughout the church.

Oren skims the books he's found. "I
thought it was supposed to be quiet around here,” Eliam comments.

Minerva makes eye contact with Votig.
"It's locked."

The monk who you gave the letter to
is standing beside you, continuing to ring the bell.

"What?
That's silly. Try it again lass," Votig tells Minerva.

She
pushes on the door. It doesn't budge. "Perhaps the mighty boxer
would like to open it?"

Eliam gives the monk ringing the
bell an annoyed look as he continues to disturb his nap.

Votig
withdraws his fist, which glows golden. He barely hears the monk
scream, "Stop!" before he launches his assault and waves of
golden energy ripple across the door. The waves spike through it and
fracture it. The door cracks, but stands. The monk moves to stand
between Votig and the door. "I assume, with power such as that,
that you are Votig."

"A fan, eh? If ya want
autographs, ya need only ask."

"Not exactly, Votig.
You were mentioned by name." The monk looks at Minerva. "As
were you... maybe. Are you Elise?"

Minerva shakes her
head, her brows furrowed. "No. How do you know those names? And
why is the door locked?"

"You have much to discuss
with the Holy Seat," says the monk, "if your letter is
true."

"Wait... what was in that letter, exactly?"
Eliam asks, nervously.

The monk narrows his eyes. "Well,
it wasn't a letter of introduction, that's for certain." The
monk hands the letter to Votig. "It is addressed to you from a
'Heather.'" He takes it and reads it.

"What does
it say?" Eliam asks, standing and walking over to the dwarf. He
fails to answer, quickly folding the note and putting it in his
pouch. "This holy seat of yers. Do they have beer?"

The monk bows his head at
the woman and intones, "Holy Prilla, you grace us."

"I
thank you for your diligence," she responds. "For what
purpose have you summoned me?"

The monk's eyes are wide.
"I believe... I believe someone has survived the waters of a
wellspring."

The holy seat's eyes retain their
gentleness, though a trace of skepticism passes through them. "What
causes you to believe this, my child?"

"This man
possesses a letter which indicates their companion, named Elise,
drank of the waters. And it's possible they all have," he adds
looking with awe at all of them."

Minerva hides an
expression of concern behind an expression of doubt. "That's
preposterous. Wellsprings don't even exist... do they?"

"You
are among friends, child," responds the Holy Seat. "Do not
fear those who seek only to improve the world through their faith.
Monks, open the door and fetch beverages from the alehouse for our
friends. I assume they will be thirsty before our conversation is
complete..."

Elise, having heard her name, has come
walking over from where she was working with Oren. "Were you
talking about me?"

"Ye should mind yer own business
monk, about the contents of that letter,” Votig says angrily. “It
was not meant for ye."

Eliam leans over to Minerva, and
whispers quietly, "the letter you wanted me to get... it was in
a small white envelope, right? Maybe on the floor of the
caravan?"

"No, I told you, a small white envelope in
my bag. It was zipped up tight, it couldn't have fallen out,"
she answers.

"Oh... right. Of course."

Minerva
looks Eliam over. "You grabbed the wrong letter, didn't
you."

"Votig parked the wagon in the dark! It was
hard to see or find anything back there," Eliam protests.

“It's
my fault, too,” Minerva says. “I should have opened it when you
brought it to me. I wonder what it says..."

"We
could always ask Votig later.”

The monk responds to the
dwarf, "My business is the business of the good of all the souls
on Sylvatir. The contents of that letter affect us all."

The
Holy Seat has the door unbarred from the other side and examines the
door carefully. "Goodness. Who managed to strike the door
thus?"

"It was like that when we got here,"
Votig says quickly.

The monk sighs. "It was Votig,
ma'am."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, child,"
Prilla smiles. "Such strength is admirable, so long as it is
always turned toward a good cause. The ale is on the way. Would you
join me for a drink?" She seats herself at one of the library
tables and smiles serenely.

Oren briefly looks up, but ignores her
and continues his research.

The dwarf steps forward and takes
a seat. "I suppose that would depend on whether or not ye call
me child again."

"Oh, do forgive me," Prilla
says, inclining her head toward Votig. "Once you reach a certain
age, you tend to remember only a few words. So," she says,
resting her hands on the table, "your dear friend has supped
from the waters of the wellspring, I hear? That's quite the miracle.
Blessings to the Maker that she is all right. Could you, perhaps,
share with me the story?"

"To be honest, we don't
know much about it. We only met her fairly recently, and she hasn't
spoken of such things to us," Eliam answers.

"Aye,
she survived it,” Votig responds. “I don't reckon how the rest of
it matters much past that."

Elise tilts her head. "Wait, who?
Who drank from a wellspring?" She looks at Minerva. "You
met them recently, right?" She gasps. "Did you **drink**
**from a wellspring?!"**

Minerva smiles somewhat sadly
and puts an arm around her shoulders. "Oh, sweetie... perhaps we
should sit."

The Holy Seat says, "It matters because
our faith tells us only of one group of people who can touch the
aetheric waters of a wellspring and survive: the children."

"It
is said that once in a thousand years, there are born children of
destiny who herald a time of great change and progress in our world.
If your friend has done so, we must consider that she is one of the
legendary children born to us again."

"That just
sounds like a foolish prophecy,” Votig interjects. “Once in a
thousand years? Wouldn't they have to born at the same time then?
Seems improbable to me."

"No, not necessarily,"
Prilla responds. "We have records of the children being born as
much as a hundred years apart from each other, but they always seem
to be alive on our world simultaneously approximately a thousand
years apart. It is not exact and certainly figurative... it may even
be hyperbolic, as religious doctrine sometimes tends to be." The
monk in the room seems scandalized to hear her say this but she takes
no mind.

"I must ask," the Holy Seat says, "do
you know of any others who have tasted or touched the wellspring's
waters in any way? It could be vitally important to our
world."

Minerva is fighting to hold back words. She looks
from Votig to Eliam. The bard looks at Votig, waiting for him to
decide what they share. Elise is white and looks scared.

Votig
reaches down to Chompy, sending him to Elise as a distraction. He
looks Minerva straight in the eye. “Nay, in fact, I haven't even
heard of the wellsprings until today. Much less heard of someone
survivin' it.” Elise scoops up Chompy in her arms and sits near
Prilla. For once she is intently watching the conversation.

Minerva looks at Votig and subtly
tilts her head in the tiniest nod.

"Perhaps," Prilla says, "It
is time for us to ascertain the truth of the letter, should any there
be. Monk, recite for us the important details?"

The monk
offers a wary glance at Votig.

"Ye saw what I did to the
door. Imagine what that'd do to a body."

The monk says, "Forgive me, Holy
Seat. I am required to gather the ale."

The monk goes to
leave but Prilla says, "Nonsense. It has been sent for."

The
monk hovers awkwardly at the door, nervously glancing at Votig and
trying not to make it obvious he is doing so. Prilla says, "What
you have summoned us for may be the most important news of our order
for the last thousand years. Now, speak."

Votig glares
once more at the monk, to make his point. The monk draws a steadying
breath and avoids eye contact with Votig. Trembling, he blurts out,
"The one called Elise survived the aether, Holy Seat!" He
then turns and runs from the room.

Prilla looks around the
group. "Fascinating. And Elise would be..."

Elise
says nothing, but she has gone white and begins to shake. On her lap,
Chompy settles his head down against her leg as if to calm
her.

"Which of you is Elise?" repeats the
Seat.

Eliam quietly motions to Elise.

"Ah,"
says Prilla. "Thank you."

"Child, do you
remember what we are speaking of?" she asks gently. Elise shakes
her head, though she barely registers the question.

Minerva
puts her arm over Elise's shoulders and says, "It's all right.
Nothing changes. You're still Elise. It's not like you're going to
suddenly turn into a monster with tentacles and three heads."

Elise
looks at Minerva for a moment as though trying to make up her mind
about something, then smiles. A few monks enter the library, carrying
a large keg of ale and mugs with them.

"Splendid," Prilla says.
"Please serve our guests. In the meanwhile," she says,
"perhaps we should discuss our next steps." The ale is
poured and distributed while Prilla studies Elise uncertainly.
"Elise," she says tepidly, "I can understand how
difficult this must be for you to understand. Your world will change
if the contents of that letter are true."

Elise frowns.
"Who was the letter even from?"

Prilla looks at
Votig, as the only person left in the room who has read it.

Oren distractedly notices the ale being
poured for him. He brings it to Eliam, and continues reading his
books. Eliam accepts the ale and, after quickly checking it for truth
serum, takes a drink.

Votig pushes his mug towards Prilla
distrustingly. "How 'bout ye drink first?"

As Eliam
takes a sip from the mug, Prilla answers. "As has been
mentioned, such beverages are forbidden to our order. You understand
that what is happening here is highly unusual."

Prilla
smiles warmly and says, "If it will put you at ease, Elise, we
have a simple way to check whether or not you were affected by a
wellspring. Ages ago, the founders of our religion stored away a set
of aetheric orbs. We were told that they came from the skyglyph but
no one knows their origin for certain." The Holy Seat turns her
eyes toward Elise and says, "The records have always been very
clear. In the presence of a child, one of the five orbs will glow in
resonance with him or her."

"If you have been
affected by a wellspring, one of the orbs will glow. And if you have
not, they will all remain dim. When news of the contents of the
letter reached me, I immediately asked for the testing orbs to be
delivered. They should be here momentarily. Please wait just a moment
and we will either unburden you of your worries, or give you all the
support you will ever need."

"I've had just about
enough of this." Votig stands, preparing to leave. As he moves,
a pair of monks bearing a large, ancient chest between them appear in
the doorway. They step through, carrying it past the dwarf. The party
does not move to stop him as he exits the library.

Elise looks
at the chest, then nervously returns her gaze to Prilla. "What
do I have to do?"

"Nothing," Prilla answers.
"You merely need to sit here and wait. When the chest is opened,
one of the five orbs will glow, and its colour will indicate to us
which of the Maker's dominions you have been blessed with control
of."

Minerva looks suddenly at the doorway. "...And
there are five of them? They will react to anyone who has touched a
wellspring?"

"Why, yes," Prilla said.
"Naturally, only one will glow as you've all indicated that none
of you interacted with the aether."

Minerva and Elise
look at the chest with trepidation.

"I had better make
sure Oren is still okay back there. Excuse me" Eliam says,
walking to the back of the room to sit with the mage. Oren briefly
looks up, but quickly returns to his book.

Prilla says to the
monks, "Please open the chest, and offer a prayer to the
Maker."

The monks open the chest. Five orbs are arranged
in a ring, laid within hollows on a smooth wooden surface. A red orb
glows, the light flickering furiously. A blue orb glows, the light
swirling serenely. A purple orb glows, the light waving and wispy. A
translucent orb with traces of grey glows, the light silvery and
smooth. A yellow orb glows more muted than the rest. It dims with
each passing second.

Prilla rises immediately, her eyes wide
in shock. "I-impossible." Her eyes narrow. She looks at the
orbs, then looks around at everyone. Then her eyes fall on the
dimming orb, and she looks toward the doorway where Votig
left.

"Please... explain," she says to those near
her. As no one answers, she looks at Eliam. "What say you?"

"Maybe the prophecy was off a bit?" he shrugs
sheepishly.

"Impossible. The documentation has been
confirmed through history. The children have returned."

Minerva
looks at Eliam. She says nothing but the expression on her face is
clear: she feels the game is up.

"Well," Prilla says. "I
think we have determined which child was blessed with ground's
domain. That leaves the other four. Would you all please join me
beside the chest? I do not seek answers of your history -- you
clearly have wished to keep your past private and I respect that --
but learning the domain you have been blessed with would be...
invaluable."

Minerva and Elise move to the chest. Eliam
quietly nudges Oren, trying to get his attention. "The Holy Seat
is asking us to stand over there real quick,” he tells him. Oren
raises his eyebrow, but walks over with him to the chest.

Prilla
directs your attention to the four orbs which are glowing: red, blue,
purple, and translucent. She says, "Each represents one of the
maker's domains. Fire. Water. Air. Ground. Aether. It resonates with
its child, and \*only\* its child. Hold your orb, and it will unlock
secrets of your domain. Touch the wrong one, and it will harm
you."

Minerva looks at her. "How are we to know
which one is ours?"

Prilla smiles. "If you are
truly a child, you should have feelings one way or another."

"Well this one is definitely
yours,” Oren says, pointing to the red orb and looking at Minerva.

She looks at it warily. "Are you certain?"

Oren
pokes the red orb, to test it, and feels a shock. It feels wrong. It
feels like his heart hurts. It feels like he's flooded his soul with
something that shouldn't be there. When he moves his finger away, the
feeling immediately goes away. He whips his hand back in pain. "It's
definitely yours"

Minerva reaches out tentatively and
touches the red orb. It accepts her. She lifts it into her palm and
her eyes glow red for a brief moment as the light is extinguished
from the orb.

Minerva places the dull orb back in the box.
"I... wow."

Prilla is smiling. "You are
the child of fire. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Purple is air? That's
Elise," Oren says.

Elise looks at you, amazed that you
know this. "H-how do you know?"

"Because you
like the clouds, but really it's a guess with you and Eliam.”

"I
would trust his judgment,” Eliam says. “He reads a **lot** of
books."

Elise looks at Minerva, who smiles at her and
nods. Elise reaches down and places a finger on the orb. It accepts
her. She raises the orb to her hand, and her eyes glow purple. The
light leaves the orb, and Elise replaces it in the box.

Oren
grabs the blue one. It accepts him, and transfers its glow to him. He
heads over to the books, pausing as he passes Eliam. “Make sure
Votig knows not to touch the yellow one. He won't want it to curse
him again.”

He nods, and grabs the remaining grey orb. It
accepts him, and the glow is transferred.

Prilla's eyes well
up with tears. "I never dreamed-- certainly I dreamed, but I
never \*thought\*-- oh goodness."

"Would it be
possible for us to take some of the books here on our journey?”
Eliam asks. “I think my friend has already found some that would be
useful.”

"I... I really should not," she says, "We
have been forbidden from removing these books for thousands of years,
but... for the children, I would allow you to read them in your
rooms. They are not to leave the castle."

"That will
be more than enough. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Prilla
approaches Oren and says, "For what information are you
searching, child?"

"Trying to get to Thirshalon,"
Oren answers distractedly.

If she is surprised, Prilla hides
it well. "For what reason?"

"Um... why
not."

She considers him with an unreadable expression.
"The records tell us it was destroyed thousands of years
ago."

"Well it has to be somewhere. Do you know
which part of the country it was up against before it was separated?"
the mage asks.

The evening wears on, as Prilla does her best
to answer his questions. Half of the party splits off to drink its
way to a quiet night. Oren continues his search through the books of
Fallowfield, and eventually all the group turns to sleep to pass away
the revelations of the night prior.

Noon rolls around to find
the party having risen. They sit quietly in the dining hall, no one
speaking much. Elise seems shaken though she is attempting to
disguise it.

The dining hall is a large stone room, with long
wooden tables fit for a mass of monks and nuns. Large stained glass
windows filter light into the room from above.

A monk serves a hearty, though late,
breakfast consisting of eggs, sausage, and toast. What few words of
conversation are shared slip away as eating takes
precedence.

Finally, Elise turns to Oren. "Do you really
think you can get us to Thirshalon? Everyone we've spoken to seems so
funny about it..."

Minerva grins ever so slightly.

"Of
course,” he answers confidently. “We just need a boat and
directions."

"Do you think you'll find it across
the sea?" Minerva asks. "If it were that easy to find, why
would everyone say it was destroyed?"

"Nobody has
ever wanted to go. Maybe... the government doesn't want us to find
it."

He has uttered perhaps the perfect combination of
words to pique Minerva's interest. "Maybe... maybe they know
there is something that could destabilize their power."

"Exactly,
you shouldn't trust them,” Oren says. “There are old books and
artifacts from before the Maker separated us from Thirshalon. We just
have to find evidence of where it was and we can go looking for
it."

Minerva shrugs. "That sounds as reasonable a
course as any if this is actually going to work."

Prilla
enters the room and approaches the group. She sits at the table,
greets everyone, then says, "Ah. Oren. I trust you are
continuing your search?"

"Yes,” he smiles, “we
still need information."

"I may, perhaps, have something of
use... Though the odds of it are so unlikely as to be impossible...
Yet I speak to the children and so..." She keeps trailing off,
almost as though she is arguing with herself. Finally, she says,
"There is a place within Fallowfield that may aid you with what
you seek. It is known only to Seats and their most direct attendants,
the information passed down from leader to leader."

"You
must swear the location and your knowledge to absolute secrecy, for
then and only then can I reveal to you what we have safeguarded all
this time."

"Of course. We won't tell anyone,"
Oren promises.

Prilla decides she trusts him. She
looks to each of the party in turn.

Minerva and Elise both
respond with honesty. They have no intention of betraying Prilla's
secret.

"I won't tell anyone." Eliam says, though
he's unsure if he'll keep that promise.

She looks at Votig,
and he looks her in the eye. "I've no interest in more secrets
and secret cults. Ye can keep them far away from me, I want no
part."

Prilla looks slightly crestfallen. This is,
perhaps, not the vision of the children she has had in her mind for
her entire life.

Oren casts bloodhound to track the marks he
left, curious. He senses Samson's axe outside the gates.

"Minerva,
your father's axe is outside." He stands, turning towards the
library.

Prilla says, "Excuse me. I must attend to this.
Perhaps we could speak shortly." Prilla begins to leave toward
the sound of the ringing bell.

Minerva turns white. "Wait,
what?"

"Elise, can you come help me carry some
books?" Oren asks.

Minerva puts a hand on his arm. "Oren,
what do you mean my father's axe is outside? Here? Now?"

"Yes,
probably Ish'an caught up with us. We should hide or leave if we want
to avoid prison."

Minerva clenches her utensils tightly.
Her jaw is set.

"Is there another exit if we're going to
make a run for it?" Eliam asks.

"We can always make
our own exit," Votig responds.

Minerva says, "Guys,
I want to kill him. We don't have to fight. I'm sure we could sneak
up on him. Do something." There is a desperation to her voice
that Minerva is trying to hide.

"If you want, but in not
sure if the priests will like that." Oren answers.

"If
they're threatening the church, they may actually help us. Maybe we
won't even have to do much," Eliam says.

As Oren goes to
leave once more, Minerva gets up to play one last card. "If orcs
are attacking, Prilla's going to be the one to try and talk them
down. If they kill her, there goes the secret she has of how to get
to Thirshalon."

Oren stops, walking back to Minerva.
“Don't worry, of course I'll help you. But I want to make sure we
steal those books."

Minerva puts a hand on Oren's
shoulder and says in a quiet voice, "Count on it."

"I
can carry some,” Eliam offers. “Just show me which ones you want
to take."

Minerva nods her head. "Come on! Let's
catch up to Prilla to make sure she's okay. Then we can slip in and
get the books when we bail for Thirshalon."

Elise has
been head-in-the-clouds mode for the last five minutes, so she rises
from her reverie when she sees the group beginning to stand. "Oh,"
she says, "are we borrowing books from the library? That's
nice."

"Votig and Minerva are the best killers, so
you two should figure out a plan before rushing in,” Oren directs.
“Keep Prilla alive, we need to know her secret. Eliam, let's go
grab the books while they think."

"These books are
one of a kind, right?” Eliam suggests. “I bet they'll be valuable
once you're done reading them."

"Definitely. We can
split them up later if you like." Oren offers. "I'm sure
your father would appreciate them if he has a library.”

Minerva, bouncing with impatience,
grabs Elise and Oren by the arm. "We don't have time for this!
Prilla is meeting the orcs RIGHT NOW. If we stop for books first, she
could die and there goes Thirshalon!"

"Why would
they kill her?" Oren asks, as she tries to pull him in the
direction Prilla went.

Minerva looks momentarily stunned.
"They... I... they killed my father," she says abashedly,
as though it should be obvious.

"But Prilla isn't going
to attack, she is just talking to them. She'll protect us..."
Oren trails off.

"Do you want me to go grab the books
while you guys fight?" Eliam offers.

Oren pries Minerva's
fingers off Elise slowly. He puts his arm around her shoulders,
guiding her towards the library. “It's okay. We'll kill him. We
don't like him either. But I need to find out how to remove Votig's
magic, and get us to Thirshalon. And Eliam needs money. Don't worry,
I'll help you all, but you have to wait a moment.”

Minerva
finally decides she can't wait anymore and she just takes off
running. “Catch up quickly!" she shouts back as she
moves.

Oren gives the group a look, then jogs in the direction
Minerva went. Elise, Votig, and Eliam follow him.

Prilla
hears the group's footsteps as they follow and gestures for them to
move to the left of the door. "I know not what the bells are
ringing for but I encourage you, friends, to observe first. The bells
toll for danger or events of significance to our order. Ringing two
days in a row is... unheard of.”

Beside the door on a raised
platform, about ten feet off the ground, sit a few tiny, narrow
windows. They are small enough so as to be nearly unobservable from
the ground, but afford a view of the outside. Minerva hops up to the
raised platform. "Can't hurt to see what's going on."

"Do
you see anything?" Eliam asks as she peers through.

Oren
says to Prilla nervously, "maybe you shouldn't answer."

Minerva
continues peering into the window as Prilla speaks to the bellringer.
"What have you seen, child?" she asks peacefully.

The
bellringer stops tolling the bell. She looks at the Seat with a white
face and tearful eyes. "I've seen the end of our Order, Holy
Seat."

Minerva's face is pale. She nearly falls of the
platform, corrects her balance, and leans her head and hands against
the wall. She looks like she may be sick.

Elise gingerly rises
atop the platform and pats Minerva comfortingly. "What have you
seen?"

Eliam whispers to Votig and Oren quietly, "We'll
still be legendary heroes even if they burn this place to the ground,
right?"

"I see a battalion of orcs that reaches so
far back and so wide I can see neither the road nor the horizon,"
Minerva answers. "I see a thousand orcs, armed, warlike,
scarred, and hungry. I see monsters with battle scars so deep and so
vicious I am amazed they can move."

She slumps against
the wall. "And in the front row, I see my father holding his
axe."

Oren repeats to Prilla, "Don't open the
door."

She looks at him somewhat sadly. "I must, my
child. Our order demands compassion and audiences for all who
approach."

"Even zombies? Don't open it, let
someone else talk to them... through a window or something. But if
you open the door, they're going to kill us all,” Oren says.

She
blinks at him. "Zombies?"

"Yes, so instead of
letting them in, stall them and have your clerics hide everything
valuable in this church, because the orcs will take anything they can
find..."

"I'm afraid your words mean little to me,
child. What is a zombie?" Prilla asks as Elise helps Minerva
descend the platform.

"Oh like... someone who died and
now they're walking around. It doesn't matter."

"That
sounds... abominous," says Prilla.

"I'm not sure
that's a word," Elise says dreamily.

Prilla responds,
"Oh... I thought we were all making up words."

"It's a word!" Oren insists,
looking to Eliam to back him up.

"Oh!" says Prilla. "I
suppose I was lucky.” She withdraws a locket from around her neck
and places it on Oren. "Keep your dreams and secrets close to
your heart. May they guide your path."

She turns to face
the door. "Now perhaps you should be off before I greet this
kind crowd."

Oren looks around at the others for
guidance.

"That would probably be for the
best," Eliam says. He grabs Minerva's arm, ready to drag her
away by force if necessary. She passively follows him, stunned by
what she saw.

“How do we get out?” Oren asks Prilla.

She
looks at him gravely. "Have you taken all you wish from the
library?"

"Oh, right." He runs off to collect
the books he gathered earlier. Elise follows closely behind,
gesturing for the party to follow as well.

The party advances into the eastern
corridor off the main hall. At the end of the corridor, about fifty
feet away and on the left side, is a stairwell that leads up. On the
walls to to the right and directly ahead of the party are a series of
stained glass windows.

As they begin up the corridor, the
group slows despite themselves as they hear the large door of the
main hall begin to open. For a moment there is silence. Silence.
Silence.

Then a series of thuds, and a panicked cry rises into
the air, muffled by the immediate roar of a thousand warriors.

The seven windows in the corridor
immediately shatter.

Orcs begin to clamber
in through the windows.

Five orcs have crawled their way into
the windows. Each is holding a unique weapon. All the weapons glimmer
with the touch of magic, and each has a faintly-glowing tether that
connects to the chest of the orc that is holding it.

The
nearest to the party is an orc apprentice. He wears shabby armour and
carries a limbsplitter axe. The axe glimmers faintly, its properties
unknown.

The next furthest is an armsmaster orc. He wears
tattered leather armour and carries savage claws. The claws glimmer
faintly, their properties unknown.

Beyond stands an orc
duelist. He wears heavy leather and carries a bone saw. The saw
glimmers faintly, its properties unknown.

Further stands an
orc outfitter. He wears thin chain mail and wields a void dagger. The
dagger glimmers faintly, its properties unknown.

In front of
the stairway stands an orc commander. He stands in armour plate and
holds a bloodforged blade. The sword glimmers faintly, its properties
unknown.

The hallway is about twenty feet wide. The library is
far enough that the party cannot retreat and defend from the heavy
doorway. The orcs step forward, ready to surround the party.

Votig
barrels forward past the apprentice and smashes his fist into the
armsmaster's cheek before he can respond. The armsmaster falls back a
foot, then looks at Votig menacingly, sharpening his claws against
each other.

The orc apprentice moves forward to attack Oren.
He slashes out with the limbsplitter axe. It hums menacingly as it
cuts through the air and tears a gash across the mage's chest. As the
axe contacts Oren, it shimmers strongly.

Eliam casts a flame
blast at the apprentice. His increased experience with the spell (and
friendly fire) causes him to pick the perfect range at which the
apprentice will suffer damage, and his allies will not. The flames
surround the apprentice before slipping away.

Minerva draws
her daggers and unleashes a flurry of slices on the apprentice. The
apprentice is unprepared for the assault and suffers several wounds.
Elise steps forward to thwack him with her staff, but her swing is
unpracticed and she misses.

A shadow dagger flares to life in
Oren's hand as he dramatically flings it at the apprentice. The orc
recoils as it buries itself in his thigh and shatters into pieces. He
regards Oren warily.

The armsmaster orc turns on Votig and
slashes out viciously with the Savage Claws. His claws find a spot in
Votig's defense that is exposed and he pierces through his armour.
The claws shimmer when as he strikes, and the dwarf feels moderately
slower.

As the orc outfitter advances, he shouts, "Switch
'em up, boys! Keep 'em guessing!"

The apprentice turns
and throws the limbsplitter axe back to the armsmaster. The
armsmaster throws the savage claws back to the duelist. The duelist
throws the bone saw back to the outfitter. The outfitter throws the
dagger forward to the apprentice. The shimmering tether that
connected the weapons to each orcs chest has changed. Each weapon is
now connected to the orc that is carrying it.

The orc
apprentice is wary of Oren, but the void dagger in his hand seems to
be filling him with confidence. He attempts to attack Oren and fails
as he sees the mage cast another imposing shadow dagger. Warily, he
moves back defensively.

"No honor, eh?” Votig shouts as
the outfitter interrupts his brawl. “No matter. Chompy, show em why
ya got yer name!" He swings with the patience of an experienced
fighter, but the armsmaster is too quick and evades.

Chompy
bites out at the armsmaster's ankles and manages to latch on
temporarily before he is kicked off.

Flames erupt from Eliam's
position once more and roar down the hallway, surrounding the duelist
before flickering away. Minerva pursues the apprentice, striking with
her daggers.

Elise keeps an eye on Votig as he battles but
doesn't feel he is critical enough yet to leap in with healing. She
instead attempts an arcane blast on the apprentice, which is
successful. He sinks to one knee, and begins breathing heavily.

Oren
aims a shadow dagger at the armsmaster. The armsmaster twists in
place to avoid the dagger, but the dark energies just barely manage
to connect with his lumbering body. He swings his axe at Votig, but
fails to connect.

The orc duelist advances on Eliam. He
slashes out with the Savage Claws. The duelist lands a blow on the
bard with the claws. A slash runs down his left arm and leaves a
bloody trail.

The outfitter drags the bone saw along the wall
in savage glee. He swings it at Votig, but the dwarf ducks under the
bone saw deftly. The outfitter shouts, "Don't let 'em get used
to it! Switch! Switch!"

The Apprentice stabs in with the
void dagger and scores a savage blow into Eliam's thigh.

Votig
lashes out with a savage right hook while Chompy clamps down on the
armsmaster's other ankle. The hook connects with the armsmaster's jaw
and Votig attempts to knock his axe away while he is disoriented. The
dwarf's hands smash against the side of the axe but the orc's grip
remains too strong.

Minerva turns to assist Eliam by
attempting to engage the orcs near him. She launches herself at the
Duelist in the hopes of scaring him off a little. Concern burning in
her eyes, a blazing aura overtakes Minerva's body as elemental forces
surge through her. A great wave of heat encases the duelist as her
daggers cut across his torso. The radiant heat smelts the claws ever
so slightly, softening their edges. Eliam uses the distraction to
step back and heal himself.

Elise looks at Eliam's remaining
wounds and says, "Well, that simply won't do." Her hands
glow and she lays them on his arm. Her healing touch seals most of
the remainder of his wounds.

Oren readies another spell
against the armsmaster. The shadow dagger forms, but the spell
falters as soon as it leaves Oren's hands. It sputters in the air and
limply arcs to the ground, where it dissipates on contact with the
floor. The orc decides to move against the mage while he has the
chance. He runs forward to get in range.

The duelist jabs at
Minerva with the savage claws. The speed is blinding and Minerva is
unable to move away, but the softened edges combined with her thin
armour prevent most of the harm.

The outfitter lashes out at
Votig with the bone saw. It hums menacingly at it swings through the
air in a jagged path. Votig's guard is too well placed, however, and
he easily parries the saw with his fists. The outfitter cries out,
"Again, again!"

The orc commander moves forward and
is within range of Votig. He leaps forward, the bone saw cleaving the
air as he goes. Votig rolls, narrowly avoiding the commander's
assault.

The apprentice rises to his feet, warily looking at
the bloodforged blade. The apprentice moves forward to attack Eliam.
The Apprentice clumsily swings the large blade at the bard, who
easily sidesteps it. The blade shimmers when the attack is completed.
The orc grunts as though injured, and the blade compels him to make a
follow-up attack. The apprentice attacks again. This time, Eliam is
unprepared for the sudden assault and takes the full brunt of the
orc's blow.

"I wasn't done with ye! C'mon, Chompy!"
Votig moves quickly and charges the armsmaster. Chompy follows in his
wake, desperate to assist his master. The lizard grows reckless in
his desire to stay close to Votig, and accidentally gets caught up in
his feet just as he is aiming a massive straightarm at the
armsmaster. Votig stumbles sideways at full force, his arm squarely
contacting an unprepared Oren. His fist hits the mage's collarbone
and sends him crashing painfully to the ground.

"Oh,
could we **not**?" Minerva shouts back, seeing Votig drop the
mage. Minerva takes stock of her position and notes that she is now
alone in the front lines. She is not comfortable with this. Minerva
runs back, attempting to regroup. As she runs, she slashes with her
daggers at the armsmaster, hitting him easily.

Eliam attempts
to finish off the apprentice. The arcane blast connects with the
apprentice's face and he whips back, teeth and blood flying from his
mouth. The point of his blade touches the ground and he leans against
the sword to hold himself up. He sways.

"Oh, dear,"
Elise says with concern, looking at Oren. She pulls him up to his
feet and says, "You mustn't do things like that, Votig." As
she touches Oren's hand, she channels healing magic into his body to
soothe bruising from the collision. Oren, recovered, sends an arcane
blast at the apprentice. The orc doubles over and collapses, his body
lying on its side.

The shimmering tether that connects the
bloodforged blade to the apprentice's heart flickers feebly and is
extinguished. As it vanishes, the blade begins to magically rot away.
It blackens, crumbles, and becomes dust. Seconds later, the same
happens to the orc's body. A pile of blackened ash is all that
remains of both weapon and wielder.

The armsmaster has noticed
that Elise is able to restore the group and thus wishes to target
her. He moves bravely into the party. His void dagger flashes out at
Elise and sinks into her shoulder. She steps away from the orc, tears
in her eyes, clenching her shoulder tightly.

The duelist is an
accomplished fighter, whose years of experience in combat situations
allow him to expose weaknesses in enemy defenses and strategies. As
he nears Oren, he swings the limbsplitter axe in wide circles, as
though testing it out, assuring himself of its balance. Oren prepares
himself, measuring the orc's pace and range, but at the last moment,
the orc launches himself forward at a speed Oren could neither
predict nor ready himself for. The limbsplitter cuts out twice,
thrice, four times, a lethal series of blows that rain down on the
mage, spilling blood in splatters against the hallway.

Votig,
a dwarf of fury, rises to his feet and pummels the armsmaster
relentlessly. The armsmaster, defenseless against the onslaught,
falls to his hands and knees. As he slowly raises his head, he finds
himself eye to eye with Chompy. Chompy immediately mauls the orc's
neck, the warrior feebly struggling to throw the lizard off. In
failing, he falls to the ground. The tether connecting him to the
bone saw flickers and fades, causing both orc and weapon to crumble
into darkness.

Chompy, with large eyes seeking redemption,
looks up at Votig to see if all is forgiven. In return, the dwarf
grins and gives him a thumbs up.

Minerva steps up to stab out
at the duelist. She connects, but barely. The duelist is agile and
nimbly avoids the worst of the attacking motion. Eliam targets the
duelist as well, with an arcane blast. As the bolt nears the orc, the
foe's void dagger shimmers. The spell hits the duelist in the chest,
but as it does so it shatters into nothingness. The void dagger glows
briefly, then goes back to normal.

Elise looks at Oren and
says, "That's funny... Usually my magic doesn't leave bruises
behind. You must have been hurt.” She attempts to lay hands on him
again to cure him, but as soon as her hands are close, she looks up
at the ceiling and says, "Oh... I wish there were a skylight in
this castle..."

Oren draws a massive amount of aetheric
power into himself and splits his arcane blast across both the
outfitter and the Commander. The magic strikes both orcs and angers
them. The duelist steps forward against Votig, his dagger gleaming.
"Your magic. Useless," he grunts. He leaps at Votig and
stabs downward with the void dagger. The dwarf backsteps, but too
slowly, and the dagger narrowly cuts across Votig's thigh.

The
outfitter flies forward at Oren in response to his attack. He turns
the axe to smash Oren with the back of the weapon. "You will
suffer!" He cries as he swings. The limbsplitter shimmers at it
collides with Oren, knocking him back a few feet and deepening its
curse's hold on him.

The commander brings the savage claws to
bear on Eliam. Bloody lines appear across Eliam's body as the claws
do their work.

The blow to Votig's thigh has distracted him,
for his punches sail wide. Minerva sprints into the duelist to help
support him. She goes for a lethal blow on the orc, her daggers
stabbing in and out relentlessly against the slower opponent. The
duelist staggers backward, stumbling against the wall for support.
His blood oozes down his body to the floor.

Eliam braces
himself, calling upon untold aetheric power. Flames rise in his
hands, a raging heat that causes the air itself to seem to melt. With
a shout, he directs it forward, the conflagration engulfing both
commander and outfitter in an incendiary blaze. The outfitter steps
through the flames unharmed, his void dagger shimmering. The
commander, and his limbsplitter, are ash.

Elise skips forward
to Oren and says, "I bet you wish you could do that. **I** do."
She hums as she moves to heal him. As she goes to lay hands on him,
she stops and turns suddenly to Eliam. "Do you think you could
teach me that? The clouds think it might be a good idea."

"Ha
ha... I mean, it *was* completely intentional,” the bard
replies. “I'm sure I could at least try, but don't be surprised if
you just can't get the hang of magic like that."

Oren
ignores her and steps forward. He swings his mace, but even wounded
the outfitter is quicker, and he evades. The outfitter looks around
and realizes he is now completely alone. He takes a step backwards
and says, "This... there are more. We are more! I'll get more!"

The outfitter turns to run. He gets one step into a sprint,
two, three... and then from Oren a whip of water, condensed from the
air itself, snakes around his feet and causes him to tumble end over
end to the ground. He scrambles to rise, but before he can move,
Votig has grabbed him by the back of the collar and pressed him
against the wall. Eliam leans against the wall on the far side of the
orc, cutting off his avenue to run should be break free.

Minerva
takes this scene in with an approving whistle. "You know, that
was actually badass. Nice work, team."

Votig leans against the wall
casually, his hand pressed against the orc's neck. Looking completely
relaxed, Votig seems to almost not notice as the orc's neck audibly
snaps against the wall.

Minerva looks nervously around. "If we're
going to go somewhere, we need to **go**. Where are we
headed?"

Wordlessly, Oren proceeds to the library. The
party follows his lead. They ascend the stairway to find the
remaining glass windows down the hallway have been shattered.

The
second floor is oddly calm, despite the sounds of battle raging
below.

Between the stairwell and the doorway leading into the
library sits a lone orc, who seems to have scaled the wall and broken
through the window. He is sitting on the floor, kneeling and facing
the entrance. He is chanting unintelligible words while a shimmering
tether connects him to a mysterious, ethereal monolith he has placed
on the floor behind him. The monolith appears translucent and without
substance.

Between you and the orc, a pair of dark red glyphs
have been etched onto the stone floor by magic. Noticing the party's
arrival, the orc ceases to chant and raises his hands. A pair of
fiendish monsters claw their way up through the floor as though it
were a pool of water.

The monster on the left is wolfish,
though larger, and has fangs dripping sparks of flame.

The
monster on the right almost defies description. It is dark red in
colour and bipedal, with wicked blades fused to its forearms that run
backward past its elbows. Three asymmetrical and massive spikes jut
out from its back. It hunches forward, balanced by a long tail.
Muscle is everywhere on it, and when it opens its jaw, rows of
gnashing teeth shine as it emits a guttural shriek.

Votig
decides to attempt to slip past the orc and his monsters. Without a
sound, he relies on Minerva and Elise, who have barreled to the top
of the stairs, to provide enough of a distraction for him to move.
There is next to no cover in the hallway - a few drapes here and
there near what used to be windows - but Votig is making surprisingly
excellent progress. He is mere feet from the monsters when the wolf
creature bares its fangs, the dwarf's scent pungent in its nose.

wall of shadow between the party and the monsters. Votig pops out from behind some
drapes on the wall just as the wolfish creature snarls and bares its
fangs. The dwarf catches it in the snout, and at that exact moment,
the world goes black.

Minerva feels her way up the hall along
the wall, one dagger in her other hand. She is forced to move slowly
from the darkness.

The foreign monolith emits a wave of
aether. It can be felt, but the aether is unable to be used. It
passes harmlessly through the room.

The Rorgh invoker chants
to himself within the darkness.

Impeded by the spell, Votig
shouts in angry dwarvish at the party and adopts a defensive stance.
Elise feels her way up the wall, attempting to stay behind Minerva
for safety.

Eliam conjures a wall of flame that erupts from
his hands and bursts down the hallway. Minerva, Elise, and Votig feel
the wave of heat as it passes by them, but are all safe from its
effects. The wave catches up the monstrous ridgerager, which howls as
the flames lick at its flesh.

The ridgewolf sniffs out Votig
and lunges forward. It hops around to evade his careful guard and
snaps down on his arm, singing it slightly.

Oren dispels the
wall of darkness and fires an arcane blast. The arcane blast screams
through the air, rife with disruption magic. It strikes the orc on
the shoulder, and a shimmering aura flickers around his body. He
scowls. The tether connected to his back does not appear to be
affected.

The ridgerager tears down the hallway to attack the
party. It snaps its long tail at Minerva. She deflects the brunt of
the attack with her dagger but feels the sting of its whiplike motion
down her side. She shouts, "Elise, move back!" as she steps
off the wall and draws her other dagger.

Minerva's daggers
spin in her hands as she advances on the ridgerager. "You know
what? I'm having a really, really weird day. My father is downstairs.
My dead father. He's down there, with a thousand orcs, and I don't
know what the **fuck** is going on. But you know what I do know? I
know what these daggers do to abominations that come after me or my
friends." The ridgerager roars at her, its fangs glistening. The
beast swings a mighty arm at her, but Minerva leaps , kicks off the
wall, pushes off the attacking arm with her other foot, and flips
over the head of the monster. She sinks her dagger into the shoulder
of the beast from above as she moves over it.

"And you
know what else?" she grunts as her feet hit the ground on the
far side. "I'm pretty sure **I can make your day worse**."
With the speed of lightning, she attacks again, sinking both daggers
into the shoulder blades of the ridgerager and pulling as though they
were levers, pulling the beast backward awkwardly. "**Now**,
Eliam!" she shouts. "It's all set up for you!"

The
foreign monolith emits two waves of aether. Neither is harmful, nor
do they impede anyone in any way.

The Rorgh invoker inhales
deeply, soaking in the waves of aether. He chants, extending his arms
toward the ridgewolf and causing streams of aether to flow into its
body. Its fangs grow longer and sharper; where before there were
merely sparks, now full flames are spitting from its mouth.

"Chompy,
protect Oren!" Votig shouts as he charges in. Obediently, Chompy
trots off.

Elise is now cut off from Minerva as the rogue is
on the far side of the beast, and though the beast is temporarily
pinned, she does not want to be in its path when it is free. She
retreats back to Eliam, laying hands on him to heal his
wounds.

Votig barrels down the hallway, his feet a blur as he
advances hastily at the invoker. The invoker makes no effort to
defend himself and takes the full blow to the chin. He staggers
backward, but remains on his feet.

The ridgerager struggles
against Minerva's daggers as Eliam's flame blast descends upon him;
it finally breaks free of her grip, but is too late to avoid the
conflagration. It howls in agony as it drops to a knee, the wounds on
its body painfully cauterized by the bard's flames.

"You
know, I'm starting to think we make a pretty good team!” He shouts
to the rogue. “Maybe even off the battlefield, if you catch my
drift!"

Minerva scoffs. "Stop hitting on everything
with tits and maybe I'll believe you."

"Ha ha!
Playing hard to get, I see."

The ridgewolf's claws
clatter against the stone as it dashes toward Oren. Flames continue
to erupt from the ridgewolf's mouth as it enjoys the benefit of its
enhanced power, granted by the Invoker. It clamps down on Oren's
lower leg and twists its head to try and drag him down; the flames
inflict burns along his shin. It goes for a second attack when Chompy
slams into it, knocking it off of the mage. The lizard
counterattacks, scoring moderate damage along its flank.

Oren
bandages up his leg quickly while Chompy distracts the ridgewolf. He
fires a burst of magic at the monolith, but the arcane blast soars
over it, making no contact.

The ridgerager roars, pushing
itself up with the wall. It turns on Minerva, its body in agony. The
ridgerager wheels on her with such ferocity, she is suddenly
overwhelmed. She did not expect such a savage attack to come so
quickly on the heels of the savage blows that she and Eliam had dealt
it. The beast unleashes a mighty blow on Minerva, its massive arm
colliding with her and tossing her helplessly against the stone wall.
She struggles to push herself off the wall to gain space, but the
ridgerager follows up with a second attack, moving at lightning speed
and slamming her to the ground.

Minerva regains her feet. She
feels herself weakening but sees the same is true of the monster
before her. She resolves to press on. She swings with her daggers,
but she is dazed and the blow is feeble.

The monolith emits
three waves of aetheric energy.

The invoker absorbs the
energy. Chanting, he turns his back to Votig and funnels the power
back into the monolith.

Votig, upon noticing the figure within
the monolith, feels an immediate sense of foreboding. He responds by
gathering his innate power and tremor punching. The assault shakes up
the invoker, but the monolith seems to be untouched.

Elise,
full of concern, throws caution to the wind and dashes in to Minerva.
"Oren!" she shouts. "Oren, I'm coming next!" She
lays hands on the rogue and channels her healing into her.

The
ridgerager is incensed at the force of the attacks against it. One of
its legs doesn't seem to be responding to it, but it limps menacingly
toward Eliam.

The ridgewolf's attention is split
between Oren and Chompy. It seems to be straining itself; though the
flames it gained from the invoker have worn off, it seems to be
pushing itself to regain some semblance of that power. Finally, the
wolf dashes in, snapping its maw at both of its targets in an
unwelcome dual strike.

Chompy takes offense to the attack on
Oren and counterattacks automatically. Oren's arcane blast flies
across the room on a direct course for the translucent monolith. At
the moment of impact, he excitedly looks for the damage, but the bolt
of magic passes directly through the monolith, leaving no trace of
impact behind.

The ridgerager continues limping toward Eliam.
It claws its way to the bard, snarling and screeching with every
broken step. Finally it reaches its target and snaps its whiplike
tail at him.

Minerva doubles back to catch up with the
ridgerager. "No, no, no, no, **no**. No one else! My father
was enough!" She leaps at the monster, her daggers flashing as
she brings them down to bear on the beast. She sinks them with a
sickening sound into the monster's spine, and it collapses to the
ground, unmoving. With a shuddering and gasping exhalation, it
dies.

The glyph which had summoned it reappears, and draws it
back down into the depths of the stonework beneath your feet.

The foreign monolith emits four waves
of aetheric energy.

The invoker, chanting, directs the energy
at the feral ridgewolf. Its fangs sharpen and its maw is set ablaze;
the fire that emits from its mouth has turned blue instead of
red.

The invoker takes the punch to the mouth. Blood and teeth
fall from his mouth. "Break my body, dwarf," he spits. "DO
IT."

Elise dashes toward Oren, concern visible on her
face. "Don't push yourself so much!" She places her hands
on him, and a soothing relief floods his body.

Eliam fires at the wolf, but it nimbly
rolls away from the arcane blast. Seeing Elise draw near, it switches
its focus. The monster leaps on her, driving her to the ground. She
raises her arms to protect herself but the wolf clenches its jaws
around her limbs and tears at her as the blue flames severely burn
her simultaneously. The wolf bounds off her, its job done, and snarls
at Oren. He retaliates with a shadow dagger, but it fails to
connect.

Minerva moves toward Elise. She attacks the
ridgewolf, hoping to draw its attention. It nimbly leaps aside and
turns to face her.

The foreign monolith emits five waves of
aether.

The invoker absorbs the aether generated and funnels
it toward the ridgewolf. The same blue fire returns to its
fangs.

Oren draws upon his element and generates tendrils of
water that latch onto two of the wolf's paws, slowing it down. A
third wraps itself around the wolf's jaw, causing steam to rise in
furious gasps. When the tendril around the Ridgewolf's maw
evaporates, the fires that remain appear red. Enraged, the wolf
chases after Oren. The tendrils seem to be weighing the wolf down
ever so slightly, for he easily steps away from the wolf's lunge.

A
massive punch to the invoker's stomach causes him to double over. He
weakens.

Elise struggles to her feet but fails to stand. She
manages to sit and slowly scrambles backward away from the wolf. She
casts a healing touch on herself with great effectiveness.

The
wolf, focused on avoiding damage from Eliam's arcane blast, fails to
notice the second one coming from Oren and takes the brunt of the
blow.

Minerva sprints at the ridgewolf. She attacks, her
daggers drawing twin trails of blood down its side. As the wolf turns
to defend itself, she is already gone, reappearing on its far side
and attacking at full speed. The wolf, however, is quicker, and
though Minerva presses her attack with blinding speed, the wolf has
already moved.

The foreign monolith releases six waves of
aether. The hall begins to feel ominous.

The invoker absorbs
aether yet again, and directs it at the wolf. The feral ridgewolf's
jaws burn white.

Elise, feeling stronger rises and
moves back into the fray. She fires an arcane blast at the wolf. Her
irritation at being struck so severely mere moments ago has informed
her attack, and when she releases the arcane blast, it is with the
intent of being a lethal blow. The monster is unprepared for the bolt
and is blasted to the ground with the force of her attack.

Eliam
conjures pure aetheric energy and compresses it with as much force as
he feels possible. When he releases it, the bolt reverberates with an
otherworldly ring as it travels. When it contacts the ridgewolf, it
explodes, throwing the beast backward. Its lifeless body spills onto
the stone and is reabsorbed by a summoning glyph, disappearing for
good.

Oren turns his attention to the invoker. His arcane
blast soars just close enough to the orc's peripheral vision that he
is able to duck under it.

The rogue advances to assist with
felling the orc. Minerva's daggers sink home, embedding themselves
into the invoker's chest. She has missed vital organs but left
bleeding wounds.

The monolith releases seven waves of aether.

Despite his injuries, the invoker
channels the aether back into the monolith. The monolith
vibrates.

Votig's flurry of punches drop the invoker to his
hands and knees. He coughs blood onto the floor. The tether from his
back feebly flickers, but it remains.

Elise steps forward. She attempts a
spell, but misses despite the orc being immobile on all
fours.

Oren's arcane blast is carefully crafted and precisely
cast. It strikes true, and the orc collapses to the floor. A smile
rests on his face, visible before his body begins to turn to
blackened ash. The blackness spreads from his fingertips and toes up
his limbs. He dissolves from the outside in, until the last remaining
part of his body is the shimmering tether at his core.

The
ashening creeps to the base of the tether, then along the chain,
moving slowly toward the monolith, endlessly, steadily. Finally it
touches. The monolith grows black as pitch and feeble. With an noise
that does not sound near as sharp as it should, the monolith
cracks.

A figure emerges. An orc, resplendent in light and
aether, floats in the air above Votig, Minerva, and Oren, who stood
beside the invoker when he died. The figure wields a massive purple
sword in one hand. She wears brilliant armour of the shiniest and
most durable metals.

She watches as the last bits of the
monolith, the tether, and the invoker blow away into nothing.

She speaks.

My invoker has been
slain," she says. "My life has been nurtured and sustained
by the aether he fed me. I will avenge his death."

"No,
he wanted to die!” Oren shouts. “He said so!"

"It
wasn't us,” Votig adds. “We were tryin' ta save him, but we were
too late."

"There were terrible monsters. We did
all we could, but his desire to die was just too strong," Eliam
joins in.

And suddenly it is felt: all the aether she'd been
given by him while she was locked in the Monolith has infused her
with strength beyond might. As she rises even higher, they know -
they **feel** - the depth of her connection with the invoker. They
know, from talking to her and seeing her dismiss their words, that
she sees their lies for what they are.

And they know that she
is coming.

The destined figure's sword glows as waves of
aether so powerful they can almost taste them radiate from the foe.
She touches down and twists her sword in a half circle to bring it to
a parry position.

"Begin. Or I will."

Votig
steps forward, prepared to fight. The destined figure lowers her
sword and looks at him. "You know, dwarf... I believe I've
changed my mind."

She rises into the air and rockets
toward the dwarf, blade point first. "I believe I'd rather begin
with no hesitation!"

Her speed is blinding. Before Votig
has time to prepare any action, her sword is within his guard. He
manages to kneel to limit the damage but it still scrapes his
shoulder.

"That's all ye've got? And I thought yer
invoker was a wuss. Hard ta' imagine he was wastin' his life
summonin' ye!"

"Words," she responds
dismissively. Her sword changes colour from purple to red. She falls
from the sky and lands gracefully on the ground.

The figure
plants her feet and swings her sword with all of her strength. "Your
vitality, mine forevermore!" But her swing misses, and Votig
nimbly dodges.

Eliam draws back his bow, and fires an arcane
blast. The spell connects with the figure's shoulder. She feels the
blow but does not move from the impact.

Minerva runs around
Votig and the figure to approach her from a side angle, hoping to
catch her off-guard. The rogue's daggers are unable to sink into
flesh, but do leave shallow lines of blood down her arm.

Oren
flanks the figure from the other side, moving behind her. His arcane
blast hits the figure between the shoulder blades. As previously, she
does not move, but Votig sees the irritation on her face.

Elise
notices Eliam's discomfort and moves over to heal him. She reaches
out to lay hands on him, pauses, and whispers to him, "do... do
you think she could teach me how to fly like that? I could see the
clouds close up..."

The destined figure's sword changes
colors from red to orange. "Your magics irritate me. I will be
free of them." Her sword flashes out at Votig and catches him
low, at his unprotected legs.

Votig's furious punches pummel
the figure. She parries some, but feels the sting of his might on
others.

"Now's probably not the best time to ask her,"
Eliam replies to Elise, preparing to attack once more. He manages a
lethal blow against the figure with his arcane blast. The figure
deftly backhand-swings her sword and hits the spell in mid-air. A
sound like a deep, low gong resonates through the hallway and the
blast is absorbed into the blade. "Pitiful."

Minerva
presses her attack while the figure is blocking Eliam's blast. "I
think you pissed her off!" Her daggers sink true for minor
damage.

Oren goes further into the library, looking for cover
and checking to make sure the orbs and books are still safe. He fires
an arcane blast at the figure as he moves. The spell erupts into
being, a lethal blow in the making as it tears through the air. The
figure pirouettes and catches the attack with her orange blade.
"Again? Useless." The blast is sucked into the
weapon.

Elise shakes her head. "Oh! Right. I was doing
something.” She turns to Eliam to heal him, extends her hands, then
picks at a loose thread. "I think my sister could fix this if
you are interested..."

The figure's sword changes color
from orange to yellow. "Cower before me, pitiable mortals!"
An overwhelming aura of malice radiates from her. She lashes out at
Votig unsuccessfully.

As her back is turned to deflect Oren's
attack, Votig unleashes a combination of punches for moderate
damage.

Eliam frowns at Elise. "This is why you
shouldn't bring children to a fight."

Elise
absentmindedly says, "If I see any children, I will tell them
so."

He attempts to fire as they speak, but his spell
sails wide.

Oren breaks free of the aura's grip, and fires a
spell of his own. The figure staggers as the lethal arcane blast hits
her squarely in the torso. She is knocked back several feet.

Elise
looks at Eliam. "I hope we don't find any children here. You're
right, that would be terrible." She lays hands on him and closes
some of his wounds.

He looks at her, confused. "I...
you're what, 10? 12? I meant you."

She tilts her head.
"I'm 19." Eliam laughs, assuming she's telling a joke.

The
figure's sword changes color from yellow to green. "Your blows
mean nothing!" she says to Votig. She swings her sword at him
and fails to land a blow once more. She screams in irritation.

Eliam
attempts to fire once again. Still distracted by the conversation,
his attack soars wide.

The rogue attacks. "If physical
attacks won't work, then..." her eyes glow red as her daggers
spin, flames flying from the metal. The daggers leave a singed wound
on the figure's back, but the figure barely flinches from it.

Oren
takes a moment to check the library. The library looks untouched from
their time there yesterday. After making sure the library is fine, he
sends a spell at the figure. The massive arcane blast created by Oren
barrels down the hallway, smashing into the side of the figure's
head. She staggers and catches herself against a wall. Blood is now
seeping from multiple wounds on her body.

"That looks
easy enough..." Elise says to herself, and she fires an arcane
blast at the figure. Her spell hits the figure, but is too weak to
break through her armor. "Oh... I suppose not," she says,
disappointed.

The figure's sword changes color from green to
blue. "I see all; I am one with all!" She cries. He
interprets Oren as her biggest threat, and charges over to him. The
figure's sword slashes out at him and catches him on the torso and
arm.

Votig roars and charges the Figure, his fists a blur of
speed. The air cracks as his punches split the air, pummeling the
foe. She falls against the doorway, and struggles to push herself
back up.

Elise decides to try an arcane
blast again. Her spell shimmers through the air as it connects with
the figure. She is unprepared for the attack, as she has been focused
on Votig and Minerva. It hits the back of the figure's head, and with
a powerful explosion, her head falls off. It flies away and bounces
down the hallway, a shocked expression on its face.

### **The Group Searches the Library**

Minerva stares,
astonished for a moment, and then she runs forward and grabs Elise.
"Okay, that... that was a nice shot. Now get in the
library."

The figure's body collapses and begins to
dissipate.

"Is she dead?" Oren asks, as the group
piles into the room.

"It looks that way," Minerva
replies.

Oren immediately begins searching the library for
books. He finds a tome on blood magic, while Eliam pulls down books
at random.

“Can you guys find an escape route?”
Oren asks, his tone impatient. He piles the books into Elise's
hands.

As she accepts the books, she looks at the orbs.
"Should we take these? The orcs are likely to just break
them."

Minerva pockets her red orb. Elise takes the
purple.

"You should grab whatever you can carry,” Eliam
advises her. “Good rule of thumb when you can finally be left alone
somewhere.”

"There are only the grey and yellow ones
left. Eliam, Votig, grab yours," Minerva says as she runs to the
door to peek outside. The bard quickly grabs his.

Votig shakes
his head no. "Go barricade the door with some tables, since it's
broken,” Oren calls out. “That'll buy us time."

"Good
thinkin' lad," he agrees.

Minerva peeks out the door and
then back in. She goes to help the dwarf barricade the door. "More
orcs," she says. "They're coming. If we have a plan to get
out, we need to use it quickly."

Oren places the ladder
in the most stable spot he can to get to the top of the rope. As he
places the ladder in the new spot, the locket he is wearing increases
in temperature. “Minerva, can you climb it and cut the rope with
your dagger? Try to get a lot of rope. And try not to ring the
bell."

Quickly, the mage takes the books Eliam has pulled
down. He leads Elise to the chest, carefully removing the yellow orb
without directly touching it. He places the books within. Moving away
from the spot that he placed the ladder has cooled the locket
down.

Minerva ascends the ladder and effortlessly cuts the
rope. She slides back down the ladder. "We don't have much time.
Those orcs will be down here in a minute."

Oren returns
to the ladder, trying to estimate if there's enough rope to rappel
down from the window. As he approaches the ladder, the locket begins
to warm up considerably. As he climbs the ladder, the locket cools.

Oren looks out the window when he reaches the top. “How did
they climb up?” he calls out. “It's 60 feet down." He
returns to the ground, and the locket warms considerably. "This
locket keeps getting hot," he says, handing it to Eliam. He
walks out to the hallway, preparing to climb over the
tables.

Minerva grabs him before he can climb. "There are
two dozen orcs in that hallway and coming this way! What are you
doing?!"

"Right out there? I thought they were
further away..." he hops down. "Well, I don't know if we
can get down 60 feet. Maybe there's a lower window.”

Eliam begins walking around
carrying the locket. It cools as he goes eastward and southward from
the ladder's spot. To the north is the wall. Moving west, it heats up
even further.

Two feet. Three feet. Four feet. Five.
The locket glows from the heat, and before Eliam, a glyph appears in
the stone. It looks identical to the one that glows each day and
night in the sky.

"Hey!” Eliam shouts, calling everyone
over. “There's a glyph over here!"

"A Lyriad
glyph?" Oren asks.

Elise runs over. Minerva grabs one end
of the trunk filled with books and Votig's orb, and signals Votig to
help her carry it.

"No, it's a different symbol. But
maybe it'll work the same way.”

Elise says, "Oooooooh. It's so
pretty."

The group struggles to get the chest over to the
glyph. Chompy looks at Votig with judgment and disappointment as he
abandons his orb on the ground.

The group drops the chest
beside the glyph. "Okay. Are we doing this?" asks Minerva.
The sound of a dozen footsteps is audible outside the library.

"It's
probably too late to try anything else" Eliam says.

"Okay.
Hopefully the chest comes with us." She picks up one side, and
and looks to the others to see who will pick up the other.

Eliam grabs some nearby books, placing
them in his pack in case the chest fails to travel with them.

Elise
shrugs and admits, "I don't think I could even come close to
lifting it. I'll test this..." She steps on the glyph, and
vanishes.

Eliam and Oren both step forward and take the
opposite side of the chest with Minerva. With Oren and Eliam on the
far side, Minerva begins backing up with the trunk onto the glyph.
She steps onto it before the trunk is on the glyph as well, and she
vanishes. The trunk falls to the ground, short of the glyph.

Oren tosses a random book on the glyph.
Nothing happens. Sighing, he fill Eliam’s arms with books and takes
the locket back. “Go through.”

Eliam complies, and
vanishes with an armful of books.

Oren does the same to Votig, filling
his arms. He points at the glyph. “Stand there.” He waits for the
dwarf to move. He does so, and vanishes as well.

Oren forces
as many books as he can through the glyph with him. As the table at
the doorway begin to collapse, the mage disappears.

**Chapter 6**