The StormWatch Chronicles As seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer Part 12 Update: 19/05/1998 to drano April 27, 597 Well, it's been a while. . . Tempus had left me behind and gone off to do something dangerous. Waiting for him caused me to miss Northstar's funeral and Tristamere's travels to meet with a spirit. Disgruntled, I headed to the mountains to spend some time soul-searching. I spent the winter months in the mountain, training in the art of armor- smithing and working directly for King Maluk. I had many things to think about since I left, and some lessons to learn in the arts of healing from Dame Lilith. Occasionally, I would meet with Delahr, who was traveling the realm. He would keep me updated on events and share stories of his travels. I've always thought that adventure found its way to him, and this held true. He was offered a squireship to Sir Victdar, knight of Eastwyck. Delahr's dream has been to become noble and do something for the commoners of the land. My hearty congratulations go to him, though I'll miss his company on the team. It was he who first told me that the team, Stormwatch, was in danger of fragmenting. So I finally came down the mountain and returned to Ravenholt this Spring. On the way to the Duchy, I received a letter from Cynesra, stating that she needed to leave Ravenholt soon. I'll miss her dearly - she is more than a mentor to me, even more than a valued friend and associate. Upon arriving in the Duchy, I discovered that we had moved from our former residence with Eastwyck. Our new quarters were with the baronies of Capulus and Westmarch. Gabriel, Chastity, Borax, Nork, Adrian the War-Dog, and Koryon were already there. Bishop and Tempus would be arriving on the morrow. Tristemere was there, as well, sporting her black and gold colors. The Baron Derek Northridge greeted us and welcomed us to the lodging. He stated that if we needed anything, we had only to ask. A glance out the window showed a panoramic view of the fields under a cloud-filled sky. A light rain soon soaked anything that stayed out too long. I grabbed a cot, and headed up to the main hall, where Duke Andros greeted everyone with a formal ceremony. Here, I spoke to Koryon, who said Tempus would soon be here and I should be aware of his change. Apparently, he underwent a ritual which transformed him back into the celestial caster I first met. With the change, not only did his ability to wield magic return, but his mind returned as well. I suppose his transformation last year affected his mind, for he was never quite "all there" afterward. We soon took to the field, to patrol the lands and protect the Duchy. In one corner of the Great Field, stands a tomb. The tomb is for someone called Basil, or Bazul, or Bassille, or something like that. Anyway, at about midnight, with the light rain still falling, a bright light flashed near the tomb. We went to investigate and discovered a horrific sight: corps of walking dead were unearthing themselves from near the tomb. Their bony claws were pushing aside grass and soil, to allow their worm-ridden bodies access to the surface. They began to shuffle toward a group of nearby townsfolk. We rushed to assist the scattering people, blades and spells at the ready. We crashed into their ranks like a shot from a catapult. Pieces of rotting flesh flew everywhere as Gabriel and Nork let fly their whirling swords of destruction. Other people came to assist; I can't remember all the houses, but I saw members of Arkham, Eastwyck, Dragonshire, and the Ducal Household, as well as many others. I noticed that the sheer number of undead was more than I'd ever seen before (except in Nikijo's realm). As fast as we cut them down, they crawled from the earth to slay the living and feed upon their flesh. The stench was incredible, and a saw a few warriors struggling to breathe. I've grown accustomed to the smell, so I managed to stay up and alert, and what I saw distressed me greatly. Some of the animated corpses were throwing balls of elemental fire. These are creatures of cold, and I've seen a few hurl the chill from the grave like a rock, but these were throwing fire! Something was definitely very wrong! The battle took some time, but finally ended with no casualties. We spent the rest of the night relaxing by a warm fire in the Baron's hall. The following day, I arose to a warm mug of -- what did Borax call it? -- Cocoa? The day was overcast, but drier. Tempus and Bishop had arrived in the early morning. So I had a few words with Tempus, and we reconciled our differences. I got to speak with the new Squire Delahr, who looked dapper in his fine, new black-and-white clothes, though I fear his sword-work has suffered over the winter season as I saw the Baron hand him a "fatty" in a friendly sparring match. The afternoon was clearing up and the town was abuzz with rumors of a tourney. The Duke allowed a traveling group to sponsor a friendly tournament for prizes. Some of the prizes included complete spellbooks and a finely crafted sword. Many of our team entered the competition, thoroughly abstained, having no love for aggressive sport. Ezeriah, the gypsy, ousted Gabriel's sword-work. I was surprised, thinking Gabriel's ability with a blade unsurpassed by most, but I guess the cold season hadn't done much to keep him loose and limber. War-Dog made a valiant attempt, as well. In the end, though, it came down to two masters of the sword and shield - Baron Northridge and Nork. The two fight in the same manner -- sword in the right hand, shield on the left -- but the two have somewhat different styles. Personally, I tend to fight in a very defensive manner, picking my opponent apart when they overextend. The Baron and Nork both fight very offensively, overpowering their opponents with sheer speed and power. The two titans came together in a might clash and ringing of steel. Sword met shield again and again. Finally, Nork literally slid under the Baron's sword to one knee and proceeded to greet the good Baron with a flurry of blows that came so quickly, it sounded like one long bell-toll. The Baron, amazingly, muscled his shield about, catching each and every blow - AND managed to counter-attack with blows of his own. Unfortunately for him, Nork managed to block the counters with his own shield. All the while keeping up an incredibly rapid series of sword-strokes on the Baron. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the two heroes flailing away, but finally the end came. The Baron could not hope to keep his shield moving as quickly as Nork's blade for long, and inevitably, Nork managed three blows on the Baron's seemingly impenetrable defense. The two congratulated each other on superb swordplay, and the casting tournament began. I warmed Tempus up, as it was he who would enter to represent our team. I can hardly remember all the spells that were thrown, but I do remember two battles. In the earth casting event, the number of contestants was uneven, so a substitute was needed for one battle. One of the most famous templars, Thorondar, was pacing the edge of the field when the call for a substitute was made. He looked up, saw me standing with Tempus, and said, "Drano, why don't you go stand in?" "Me?" I thought. I didn't even realize that someone as high up the social ladder as Thorondar knew who I was! "Yes," he said with a smile, "go ahead!" I approached the arena, and prepared myself. I had not cast any spells in an offensive manner in a very long time. I've just been a healer. I looked across the area and saw the competition, an able caster from a place unknown to me. He was, in turn, looking at me -- sizing me up, I suppose. In short order, the tourney- master called the combat to start. I stood ground and launched a few binding spells in his direction. He dodged them easily, and I knew that he could outmaneuver me, given the chance. So I decided not to give him the chance. I began a slow stride forward and really started letting spells fly. Aiming more precisely, I got him really moving, never changing my own slow stride. A flurry of binding spells flew from my fingertips, missing the agile caster by mere inches. But then he made his worst mistake. The near-hits made him dodge so much, he was never able to return spellfire, and his dodging, though good, was very similar.. He continually ducked and crouched. So I lowered my aim and soon scored with mock death spells. I finished the battle having only cast ten spells. My opponent hadn't even launched one. Tempus, meanwhile, had lost the celestial magic contest, but had made it to the final round of the earth casting competition. He was pitted against one of the Baron's men -- Narik. A mighty caster in his own right, and able dodger as well. Another test of titans, to be sure. The two went at each other, casting and dodging, until, by mere seconds, Tempus managed to sneak a spell past Narik's defenses, winning the contest. As true gentlemen, they also congratulated each other. We soon found that each of the winners had not yet won. "Tonight," the tourney-master said, "you have earned the right to fight my champions." So it seemed that Tempus and Nork each had one more battle to win. Gabriel decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with his friend and mentor, Forest Lord Ehawk. Some affliction, similar to the 'blight" form last year, was draining the Forest Lord, and he was dying. I asked to spend the time with Gabriel, as he needed to protect the Forest Lord from harm. Two years ago, when Delahr and I were new to Ravenholt, we belonged to a group called Lioncourt. Our leader was Tempus, and the others consisted of Delahr, Koryon, Scourge the half-ogre, and myself. We were asked by Ehawk to recover his courage, which he had lost. Lord Ehawk had never looked down at us, and I found great respect for an individual of his stature that didn't belittle the common folk. So now, I wished to help him again, in any way I could. At six o'-clock every night, an unusual event takes place. I think it has something to do with the rotation of the earth, but when it reaches a certain point in it's revolution, each caster becomes infused with magical energies. This cleanses the old energies from the caster, and refreshes them. It's kind of like emptying a glass of water and filling it with fresh water every day. The body is the glass, the water represents the magical energy. A caster can use this energy over the course of the next 24-hour period, sipping from the glass. At six o'-clock, the glass is refilled. In any case, at this magical time, most casters seek to deplete their "glasses" knowing they will fill again in a few moments. This is also the time when warriors and rogues feel invigorated. Their glasses are filled instead with concentration, or a "sixth-sense" allowing them to strike their mightiest blows or deftly dodge certain death. I mentioned to Cynesra that I had yet to practice my ninth circle spells. She suggested I approach Kestryn, the Rogue, and attempt my "death" spell. I looked at her, horrified, but she smiled and stated that she would help in case something went wrong, as she had a few ninth-circle spells left herself. She felt that Kestryn was more than able to dodge the spell. Also, she was a personal friend and wouldn't mind helping me in my lessons. Little did I know I had a greater lesson to learn! I approached Kestryn -- now mind you, I have seldom spoken to this elf-woman, and then, only in passing! -- I asked to speak with her a moment. A quick glance told me that Cynesra was nearby watching -- she would be monitoring my skill -- with a funny sort of smile across her feline features. Kestryn approached and looked up at me in askance. "Yes?" she asked. I quickly murmured my spells, "With Mystic Force I pin you, I grant you the gift of Death!" I watched her eyes go wide in astonishment, and all I thought was, "Oh please, oh please! Dodge it! Dodge it!" Then, in the blink of an eye, she maneuvered around me and slipped the effects of my spell. Cynesra hurried up, to prevent an altercation, and I hastily explained what was being done. She chuckled, relieved, then said, "Now you can help me train! Turn around!" I've heard tales of how a rogue can sneak up on you and strike a blow on the back of the head in order to knock someone unconscious. A very few have mastered this art to the point that they are able to actually kill someone in such a manner. I felt a sharp blow on the back of my head, and the next thing I knew, I was staring up into Cynesra's furry face. Kestryn reached down and helped me up, and laughingly suggested we train with each other more often! I don't know about dat -- dere -- ding. . . . A few hours later found me in front of the fire in the Baron's hall, supping on some sort of grainy dish made with pork. Quite tasty. Two knights of Arkham had joined me, one -- a dwarf named Sir Dougan. All was comfortable by the blazing warmth, until a draft from the door caused me to look up. A messenger from the Healer's Guild had arrived asking for Tempus. Tempus, I knew, was foraging in the deep woods, so I asked why he needed Tempus. The young lad replied that a young woman was at the Guild asking for Tempus, so the Guild had sent him to find this "Tempus." I quickly grabbed my weapons and headed out with the messenger. He took me to the Guild where I met this courier. She turned a letter over to me which I hastily read. The letter was from the tourney-master requesting Tempus' presence for his final combat . . . now! I rushed to the meeting place and met Gabriel and Baron Northridge. I explained about Tempus being out hunting, and the Baron offered his caster, Narik, as a replacement. If he won the battle, Tempus and Narik would, once again, battle it out for the book. With all in agreement, Narik proceeded to pick apart the defenses of the tourney-master's champion. The champion, though an able dodger, was unable to avoid the terrible onslaught of spells that Narik threw. Tempus arrived shortly after the fight, and the small battle was about to begin. I was asked to judge Narik, while the Baron judged Tempus. The battle was quick, and this time, sadly, Narik won. I didn't know Narik well before the match, but I have found him very noble and my respect for him has increased greatly -- not only for his nobility, but his casting prowess as well. Tempus, who hadn't cast a spell since early last year did remarkably well, and I believe he will make an even better showing in next month's Commoner's Tourney. Nork had defeated the champion in battle, and had won the prize of the sword. It was so well made that I believe it will resist the shattering effects of many celestial spells! Gabriel had shown up to support his friend, and with him, was the emaciated Ehawk. Suddenly, Ehawk strode for the tavern. Gabriel followed, and I, in turn, tailed him. We went upstairs to the upper floor wherein the gypsies rest when traveling through Ravenholt. The gypsy leader, Houlie, admitted us, and I saw a gypsy living space for the first time. The walls were awash in all manners of colors. Drapes of every hue lined the walls and smoke from their cook-fire filled the room with a pleasant-smelling haze. Gypsies sat all around, clad in equally vibrant garb with bells and chimes and jewelry hanging from every available body-part. I've heard it said that there is not a better-dressed warrior than a gypsy warrior. Now I see why. Ehawk had collapsed on a cushion, Gabriel was attending to him. I was left near one corner of the room, waiting to see if I had to run for medicinal herbs or healers of greater power than my own. While I stood there, I scanned the room. My eyes rove over many people, until they were met by the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. OK, I'd seen them twice before. They belonged to Dame Lililth, my new teacher. She has an amazing healing ability, which I'd asked her to teach me. She agreed, and bade me practice healing specific wounds as opposed to infusing an individual with healing magic. She gave me this directive last Fall, and I'd been practicing all winter long. The eyes floated my way until they were no farther than a breath away. Then a mouth formed under them and spoke. "Greetings, Drano. How go the lessons?" I replied that I had learned her first lesson, and was ready for the next, so she asked me to meet her in two days to learn the second lesson. Lord Ehawk was up and moving again, so I had to end our conversation and follow Gabriel quickly out the door. Outside the tavern, Gabriel bade me go join the others, as night was falling. He and Ehawk would be all right, so I hastened back to the Baron's hall to meet the others. The night was warm and drier, and StormWatch, minus Gabriel and Nork, took to the field to thwart the return of the walking dead. I have to admit that the team worked better than ever before, even with the loss of fifty percent of its casters. Tristemere and Chastity were with us, and between them, Borax, and myself, we were in no shortage of healing magic. Koryon and Bishop would carve swathes through advancing undead, with Borax raining blows on heads from behind the shield wall of the two warriors. We were only pressed twice. At one point, Koryon and Bishop had formed their shield wall with Borax behind it. Tempus and War-Dog were floating around as they are wont to do, and Chastity and Tristemere were behind them providing supporting spellfire. I was behind them all, my job was to watch the battle and keep an eye on our flanks and rear. Suddenly and silently, from the darkness behind us, emerged three of the staggering corpses. I moved to defend Tristamere and Chastity, as I was the only thing between them and the undead. The three feral, undead creatures would lunge at me, one after the other, and I would block a flurry of blows with my shield. I could feel their diseased talons scraping at the metal, and was glad I had it between them and me. I would hack at one as it came in, but then was forced to parry and block the claws as they came slashing like buzzing flies. I called for assistance, as I didn't feel I could keep the three of them off for long, and was delighted as it arrived in the form of Borax over my left shoulder, and Tempus on my right. I heard Tempus begin casting and watched fire leap from his fingers, searing the flesh from the bones of the nearest two. Borax and I made short work of the remaining one, and I beamed with pride. Borax has come so far in such a short time, and I am so very glad to have the "old" Tempus back! Later, in the evening, Gabriel and Nork met us, and we were back to our full strength. Gabriel asked us to help -- Ehawk was going into the forest to cleanse a magic pool, and they thought this might help the effects of the blight. It was dark, but the moon shone through the clouds in places, as the sky cleared itself of obscuring clouds. We arrived at a clearing in the deep woods, where lay a magical pool, attended by two dryads. We took up posts in three different places around the pool along with members of the Healer's Guild and some Drae elves. Ehawk was attempting to help the dryads cleanse the pool with a ritual magic. Soon, the serenity of the area was interrupted by the walking dead. These were fairly tough ones, but "normal" in that they didn't throw fire. The Healer's Guild has actually classified this form of undead, as I guess they're fairly common, as "Revenants." In any case, these revenants seemed to come from everywhere, and though we weren't sorely pressed, it was an exhausting battle that lasted near an hour. Finally, the pool was clean, and we began our retreat. The Revenants wouldn't let us leave, though, so we had to fight our way out of the forest. Gabriel and Nork would face the enemy, while I patched their armor, as we retreated down the forest path. Ehawk directed the exodus and finally got everyone to safety. StormWatch retired to the Voltan Bear Tavern for a rest and some drinks. A baker was there, and both Gabriel and Nork bought his wares. Spiced bread was the fare, and it was quite good. How do I know? A few stray undead had come to the tavern door, and Nork and Gabriel quickly jumped to dispatch them. Tristemere watched, as I looked at the door, at the bread, and at the door, then the bread again, before I quickly stuffed a handful of the delectable stuff in my mouth. It was a lot easier swinging my sword with something in my stomach, but speaking incants to spells was much more difficult. Got milk? Most of the group retired after that, but Gabriel, Nork, and myself took to the field one last time, to insure that the sleeping townsfolk were in no danger. Well after midnight, we met Baron Northridge, Lord Ferral, and one of the Baron's Squires. They were doing the same thing we were. Except, I think they had had a bit too much to drink. At one point, after dispatching a nauseatingly rotted zombie, the Baron requested a magical poison protectant. I stepped up and administered the magic spell as requested, and was thanked by a hearty embrace. "Thank you! Thank you, brother! You are my brother now, like Gabriel! You and I are brethren. Kneel! Kneel!" bellowed the Baron. Unsure of what was transpiring, I knelt. "I Knight you Lord Protector of Lower Mumblehmmer! You need to report there Thursday!" "But Baron," asked Lord Ferral, "I'm Lord Protector of Lower Mumblehmmer." "No longer! Step aside!" charged the Baron. Lord Ferral looked hurt, which is a strange expression on a Stone Elf, and scurried off to his dwelling. Stunned and confused, I received a pat on the back from Gabriel, and we went on our way. After a short rhythmic interlude, we turned in for the night. The next afternoon, Nork called a meeting of the remaining members of StormWatch. We had to determine the status of the team. Whether we were to remain a team in our own right, hire ourselves out to another group, or disband all together and go our own ways, we needed direction. The group decided unanimously to remain a force in our own right, and to continue to do what we formed the team in the first place for - to defend those that cannot defend themselves, and to make the Duchy a "better" place to live. The next question was regarding leadership. Our old leader, Cynesra, had decided to go her own way. Three members of the team were nominated for leadership - Gabriel, Nork, and myself. Shocked, but elated, I knew I would do all in my power to keep this group together. In a rare performance of verbal execution, Bishop spoke. "You each have great qualities that will enable you to lead this group," he said. "But you each have a few small flaws that need to be brought into the open. Gabriel, you have a tendency to become "pissy" quickly. A moody person will have some difficulty leading a group of personalities as we are. Nork, your weakness is the ladies. It seems women come first for you. Drano, you're rather new to Ravenholt and don't know many nobles, so they will be hesitant to speak with you." With all that said, perhaps the most speaking Bishop has done in the past two years, Nork, Gabriel, and I had to step aside to discuss this turn of events. Nork suggested I get the position, Gabriel offered Nork as his choice, and I suggested Gabriel as the best nominee. Undecided, we agreed to lead the team as a group, no matter who was the official figurehead. We turned to the team and put the decision on their shoulders, saying that we'd be agreeable to whoever was chosen, and that we felt our votes should not count. A vote was made, and Gabriel was chosen as the leader of StormWatch. Soon after, Baroness Ganthe of Eastwyck asked for Borax and I. Surprised, I wondered what the Baroness would want with us. It appeared that there might be some old trouble with Gabriel that might make conversation with him uncomfortable. She merely asked us what was going on with the team. Apparently, rumors were running rampant about the dissension in the team. We assured her all was well, and informed her of the new leader of the group. She stated she was pleased that we were holding together and suggested if we wanted anything that we could come to her and ask. Honored, I remembered when she didn't know who I was, and was pleased that she could speak with a "commoner" such as myself. Later that day, I met with Baron Northridge and checked to see if I was really a knight or if he really had too much to drink the night before. He replied with a chuckle and stated, "Thank you very much for checking me on that. Last night, I was -- well -- not at my best, shall we say. You are hereby released from your duties!" With a sigh, I went off to see what a hubbub in the Town Square was about. A large force had gathered and was going to a cavern, outside of town, to defeat the supposed master of the undead that plagued us the past two nights. They called him the Revenant King, and said he was well guarded and too powerful to defeat at night. He had a magic crown, sword, and throne. Whenever he was defeated in battle, he would reform at his throne. Whenever he touched a fallen person on the battlefield with his sword, they would immediately rise, undead, and fight for him. The entirety of the town massed for this epic battle, but didn't realize that only a small number of heroes would be able to negotiate the tight corridors of the cavern. As it turned out, only a small group was able to get in the cavern. The rest had to stay outside the cave entrance and guard the rear, as hundreds of zombies attempted to get in and thwart the efforts of those inside. I was to guard Gabriel and provide healing, but the slippery little elf squeezed between two large warriors - - one was the giant, Tavak -- and disappeared from sight around a corner. I could hear the hideous sounds of battle ahead, but couldn't catch up to him. Finally, the corridor opened up into a chamber where the main battle was going on. Bodies of dismembered zombies were all about, and the fight had encroached a dais upon which sat the throne. I saw Tristemere, who had come in another way. She was backing up Nork with healing. Joining her, we caught up to Nork and Gabriel, who were fighting side by side as always. Nork had caught up to the Revenant King and, in his patented fighting style, was harrying the King's knees with blows. Gabriel was behind him at the base of the dais, but could approach no closer, as he could not ascend the dais. A member of the Court of Eastwyck was near, however. A big man, who in an amazing feat of strength, lifted Gabriel in one arm, and set him on the stage. While in the air, Gabriel's sword went into motion, and between, Nork's blows from below, and Gabriel's from above, the Revenant King was overwhelmed! Continued on the following page. . . . The battle was not yet over, however, for we still had to escape the caverns. We emerged from the cave to find the rest of the heroes beset upon by the undead legion. Nork and Gabriel quickly joined the front line, and I moved to back them. I looked up, just as one revenant had decided to rush the line. A hole had opened in front of me, and it took the opportunity to attack. I let loose with a spell as a man called Lord Arracor hastened to assist me. Between his mighty blows and my spells, the creature was felled and the hole in the line plugged. I wheeled around then, and did a double take. Tristemere was down and bleeding profusely. A brave townsman had begun administering first aid to stop the bleeding, but that wouldn't be enough. Another man was standing over her -- why? I don't know -- I batted him out of the way with my shield and summoned magical energies to close the wounds as Dame Lillith had suggested. The wounds closed completely, and helped the now conscious Tristemere to her feet. We fought a retreat from the cave and were able to get everyone out alive, thought the tenacious living- dead sought to follow us halfway back to town! Back at the hall, I prepared to take my leave. Many others of the group had done so already. I had most of the team's treasury, though, and had to give it to those who were staying. There was no one to be found, though. They were somewhere out in the fields. Since it was after the magical time of renewal, my "glass" of spells was full. Squire Delahr would be traveling forth from Ravenholt with me, so I grabbed him and asked for him to join me in finding the rest of Stormwatch on the field. I, somewhat foolishly, left my sword and shield behind, relying only on my spell-power. Soon Delahr and I met up with a small group of townsfolk who were set upon by orcs. I unleashed a few spells and Delahr went to work with his sword, and soon the people were safe. We looked in the tavern, thinking the others were there. "Indeed, they had been, not too long ago," said the tavern-keeper. So we went back to the fields. It was refreshing; the day had been sunny, and now the night was warm and clear. The moon and stars filled the heavens -- a beautiful canopy. Delahr looked at me and grinned. "Just like old times, eh, Drano?" I heartily agreed. It had been a long time since he and I had traveled forth at night by ourselves like this. We had been traveling with others for the past year, and before that, we were too scared to travel alone at night. There is something to be said for experience. We felt, at that moment, we could tackle the world. Another scream pierced the serenity of the moment. "HELP!" it yelled. Delahr and I swapped glances. He repeated, "Just like old times!" and we broke in a run to aid whoever was in need. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Some really tough trolls had felled a number of townsfolk, but the trolls were no match for the two templar's blades and magic. The human and dwarf fought as though they had done so forever, each one's style complimenting the others. They went through the nasties with relative ease. Then, while the white- and-black clad human continued driving them off, the other -- a dwarf in a blue and black tabard with the emblem of the "eye in the storm" -- healed the fallen. A couple of them were wounded severely, but a few healing spells got them on their feet and going. The dwarf came upon one poor fellow, though, who must've been down for some time. He bent down with the seeming care of a parent to a child, and examined the body of the young man, felled in the thick of combat. He was indeed dead, but his spirit had yet to let go of the body. The dwarf looked up at the starry sky, thanking all his teachers for showing him the arts of healing. Then, he carefully laid hands upon the young lad's chest. A shimmering light encompassed his hands as he called upon the powers of the earth and whispered, "I grant you the gift of Life." The young man's eyelids fluttered, and he struggled to sit up. "Easy," said the old dwarf. "You've taken quite a blow." He called up more magic and healed the gaping wounds, still left by the angry blade of some troll. Then he gave him some protective spells and helped him to his feet. The young lad looked staggered by the turn of events, thinking that battle had been his last, and said in a quavering voice, "Good sir, thank you! But . . . who are you?" The old grizzled dwarf looked up, sparkling dark eyes and a toothy smile belying his apparent age, and spoke a phrase he'd last uttered over a year ago. "Drano . . . of StormWatch."