The StormWatch Chronicles
As seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer
Part 14
Update: 02/06/1998 to drano


  -- as seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer - June 14, 597
  

Well, as is often the case lately, circumstances are causing me to document happenings in a much less 
timely fashion than normal.  War is occurring throughout the realm, and there is so much to do. I've been 
writing letters to as many dwarven leaders as I can.  I only hope that they can put aside their differences to 
help the surface-dwellers in their time of need.  

In any case, I still feel the need to put down the events that have happened recently. as I see them 
happen.

I traveled to Ravenholt a day early this time, as I heard that a great storm was heading that way.  Indeed, as 
I arrived on Thursday night, in the company of Bishop and Koryon, the dark, billowing clouds that formed 
overhead foretold of great, possibly dangerous events.

I stood upon the cabin porch, me old place as "porch patrol", and greeted a member of Westmarch in me 
usual, cheerful manner, "BAH!"  Chastity was about, preparing a bedding place for her and her husband 
Gabriel who would be around intermittently; he had something occupying his time in the woods.  Elves - 
go figure.

Tristamere was there in her usual pleasant mood, as was cousin Borax - in his usual pleasant mood.  Bah!  
The Mighty Vincent was also about.  Apparently he had decided that Dragonshire was a bit too pushy, so 
he decided to travel with Stormwatch for a while.  He's a tricky one, that rogue, but an amicable 
companion, nonetheless.  His antics are only normal for a hobling, and a rogue, which I suppose are one 
and the same.  After ye get past that, he's a genuinely nice little bugger.  Nork was about too, but I figured 
him to be cuddling with some woman or another - race is no barrier to the mighty lover.  

I stood upon the porch, watching the skies (Stormwatch - go figure.) and observing the coming storm.  
The sky was dark - way too dark for this early hour - and there was a strange wind that bore upon itself 
ominous portent.  I looked toward the tree line far across the field and saw it form - a towering funnel of 
wind.  It stretched from the ground to the sky and I could feel the magic that it held.  If someone could 
harness this power, they would be able to heal an army of wounded!

The funnel drew magic from the earth and the very sky, meshing the Celestial and Earth magics into one 
large whirlwind of energy.  I think I understand what Dame Lilith has been trying to tell me all along now.  
The funnel sparked and the ground shuddered, then the tower of power pushed through the trees, bending 
them like reeds and throwing all but the largest ones aside. 

It only stayed a moment, but in that moment, it made a path through the woods ye could drive carts 
through. three abreast!  Then, the moment was gone, as was the funnel, but the clouds remained, 
threatening, but never delivering the bountiful rain that the farmers of the land need.  I wondered at what 
the omen meant.

Bishop and the Mighty Vincent soon joined me.  I seldom travel with Bishop as our roads seldom take us in 
the same direction.  So this was a treat for me.  My fellow dwarf taught me much of what I know about 
combat when I first arrived in Ravenholt more than two years ago.  

Bishop has a convoluted past.  I guess the way he tells it, he was wandering about on the road one day, 
when Gabriel happened upon him.  The kind elf took him under his proverbial wing until he could manage 
on his own.  As Gabriel tells it, Bishop has lost his memory of everything before that time - everything, 
that is, except how to fight.  An exceptional combatant, Bishop is often underestimated because of his small 
size.  I hope, one day, to be half the warrior he is.

Anyway, the three of us went out to patrol the fields near where the funnel hit.  We hoped that none of the 
local peasants had been caught by that whirlwind.  We were hunting about through the wreckage when the 
Mighty Vincent piped up, "Guys - look!"

What we saw was a spectre of sorts.  The wispy form floated across the wet grass trailing smoky wisps of 
its old robes behind it.  I think it was a woman, but it had lost so much of its shape as to be unrecognizable.  
Bishop and I drew weapons as it came toward us.  That's when I saw the outstretched hand bearing. a 
scroll?

I looked again, and sure enough, the ghostly form held a scroll in its outstretched hand.  I reached to take it 
when Bishop said, "I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

"What do ye mean?" I asked.

"Those things are never."

The scroll fell right into my hand.  I couldn't believe it as I felt a surge of magic go up my arm.

"Now ye've done it!" Bishop moaned.

"What do ye mean?  What's happened?"

"Those scrolls - they "link" to yer spirit somehow.  Now you can't get rid of it!"

"Great!  Why didn't ye warn me about this?" I queried.

"I did!" Bishop exclaimed.  "You didn't listen.  "Don't", I said!"

"No ye didn't.  Ye said, "I wouldn't touch that if I were ye.  Ugh!  Let's go somewhere where I can read 
this."

That's when heard someone from Dragonshire's cabin summoning everyone with a scroll to their door.  
>From what I understood, there were more of these spirits wandering about, and hapless citizens were 
getting stuck with these scrolls.  Ehawk and Arachor were some of the unfortunates.  That's when I glanced 
over my shoulder and noticed Vincent missing.

"Great, where has he gone off to now?"

Then, I looked Bishop square in the eye, and asked, "Bishop, I've never asked ye for anything - ever.  
Don't make me do this alone."

Bishop looked at me and wavered only a moment before saying, "Alright, this time." Then, he walked 
over to another spirit on the field and accepted the scroll.  He came back grumbling something about his 
wife when from around the corner of the building came the Mighty Vincent.  He hopped up to us and 
declared, "Guys!  Look what I've got!"  Bishop and I looked at Vincent's hand, then each other before we 
simultaneously smacked ourselves in our foreheads.

Later that night, we were summoned to an old tomb.  There was one woman from Dragonshire who had 
been interpreting the scrolls, and fifteen of us scroll-bearers.  The woman said that the scrolls contained a 
ritual to free spirits from the Necrolpolis.  Also at the tomb, was a cloaked figure that she said was a spirit 
as well.  This spirit held a lantern that cast an eerie iridescent light that lit all our faces except his.  A deep 
cowl hid the spirit's face.

The Necropolis, by the way, is a small city of the dead.  Not the dead that are going to their peaceful, final 
rest, but a city of slaves.  The ruler of the city waylays spirits on their way to rest and enslaves them.  A 
month ago, I stole into the Necropolis, along with Niviene and a few others, in order to destroy the magic 
bells that call the wayward spirits from their path to rest.

The Dragonshire woman explained to us that a ritual had to take place.  On each scroll was the name of a 
barbarian spirit that was trying to escape the Necropolis and overthrow the diabolical ruler of it.  We had to 
represent the spirits and present ourselves to the lantern-wielding spectre.  The presentation had to be in a 
particular order and the naming of spirits done in a precise way, or the ritual would not work.  The woman 
stated that she had been interpreting the ritual for two months and had the order ready.

I was placed fifth in line, representing Felthis, the Shaman of Clan Lynx.  We got through the naming of 
seven spirits before the cloaked one before us disappeared.  Apparently, the woman didn't have the order 
quite right!  Humans!  Humph!  Tomorrow we would meet with Spirit Dancer, a barbarian shaman, who 
would try to contact the spirits and get the proper procedure.

With that, we headed for our beds, and observed the insides of our eyelids until morning.

The next day broke with sunshine.  The air was muggy and hot - the kind of hot ye get standing at a forge.  
Bishop, the Mighty Vincent, and I joined again and patrolled the woods.  Also with us was a young woman 
named Marina.  Marina has some strange power in that, whatever she touches begins to sparkle like the 
night sky or a sandy beach.  

We were headed up a path when we heard a ruckus far ahead.  I felt a cold sensation that I recognized as a 
spirit passing through me.  In the daytime, it's hard to see them, but ye still feel their presence.  So the four 
of us made haste up the path and encountered the end of a battle between Westmarch and some strange 
creatures.  I looked at their leader, Erevan the stone elf, and asked, "Are ye all right?"

"Yes, " he replied in his usual monotone, "Thank you for checking on us."

"Are ye sure ye have everybody?" I asked.

"Oh yes, all accounted for."

Leaving things there, we headed back the way we'd come in order to take a different route.  Erevan joined 
us.  He's a nice fellow as elves go - stone elves are much more serious than their cousins are.  More like 
dwarves than any other race, I suppose.  So the five of us went up the path and came around a corner to 
see.

A portal of magic stood by the side of the path.  It appeared as a giant mirror, but looking through it was 
difficult, as the image was very foggy.  We looked in though, and made out a wooden puzzle lying on the 
ground and a statue made of rope stood behind it.  Vincent's eyes went wide and he said, "Puzzle?"

So our course became clear and we stepped into the misty portal.  I looked over me shoulder and saw the 
forest path behind us, though it appeared misty from this side of the magic door.  Vincent plopped down 
next to the puzzle.  His small, but dexterous hands reached for the puzzle.  When they touched it, however, 
the statue of rope came to life!

No statue this, but a rope golem; a construct of material and magic made by a powerful mage.  The better 
the substance used, the tougher the golem.  So this one didn't seem too tough.  

Vincent jumped.  He had no idea what had happened, but Bishop, every wary, was ready for it.  I drew me 
sword and quickly joined him.  I may not be the warrior he is, but rumor has it I can defend myself 
sufficiently that I can distract the creature while Bishop pulverizes it from the flank.  We quickly felled the 
construct and secured the area.  Vincent and Erevan began to solve the puzzle.

It was a good thing Bishop and I stood guard, for another golem came out of the mists toward us.  This one 
was made of wood, and appeared much more sturdy than the last.  Undaunted, we took the battle to it and 
quickly dispatched it.  Vincent was having an awful time with the puzzle, but Marina kept watch, so we 
figured we had time.

Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, we were attacked by more golems.  A few more wood ones 
came, but then they started to get ugly.  I wondered who was sending them, and what wizard had the power 
to construct all these.  Iron was the next golem, and much harder.  My sword-blows seemed to bounce of its 
hide, but Bishop, as always, was able to strike it down.  It would get no easier though..

After two more of these, each appearing every five minutes or so, a truly frightening construct came out of 
the mists.  It stood nearly eight feet tall and glared at us with red, glowing, baleful eyes.  A construct of 
bone!  I threw a trapping spell or two to slow it down and give Bishop a few free swings at it, but still it 
came on.  It walked right past us and struck down Vincent and Silverwing - a hero of Ravenholt who had 
been wandering by and taken an interest in the portal.  Bishop finished the creature, finally, and I hurriedly 
healed the two fallen puzzle-solvers.

We had to fight off two more of the bone-golems before Silverwing managed to finish the puzzle.  We saw 
the portal begin to close and ran to escape.  We all barreled out onto the forest path and into a group of 
waiting orcs!  What a day!  The Mighty Vincent verbally sparred with them for a moment, perhaps not the 
best idea. before they drew weapons and attacked us.

I licked my lips and wished I had me trusty axe. nothing takes heads off orcs better than an axe!  I had to 
settle for my sword, which I drew quickly.  One of the orcs was harrying Vincent who was blocking 
furiously with his spear and short sword.  I noticed the stupid, green-skinned, dirtball had left his back to 
me.  Are all orcs morons?!  I stepped up and soundly thrashed the idiot.  Then I moved on to back up 
Silverwing who had two on him.

The battle was over in a matter of minutes with no casualties.. on our side!

We decided to leave the woods and go rest for a while - we'd been fighting for an hour or so now and 
welcomed the break.  But I was feeling a bit. saucy. so when I saw Baron Northridge sparring with a 
few of the local heroes, I couldn't help but accept his friendly challenge.

As I say, no warrior am I, but I like to think I do passably well.  So it was with great pride that I accepted 
the baron's compliments after he beat me - five hits to two.  

"I must congratulate you!  I've never seen you fight, so I am pleasantly surprised that you did so well!  You 
should fight more!"

But, alas, I am no warrior - just a healer.  But at least I did my race and my tutor, Bishop, proud.

In the afternoon, Stormwatch held a small feast.  O.K., it was actually a somewhat large feast with over 
fifty townsfolk in attendance.  Squire Beef. ahem, I mean Squire Martimus of Dragonshire was in 
attendance and performed what he calls "stupid Sarr tricks".  Also present was Viscount Daramor in his 
regal splendor.  He was toting a chicken under one arm that he claimed was magic.  I don't know about the 
validity of the magic nature of this chicken, but the Viscount declared that it made him psychic.  The details 
of what transpired when the Viscount offered an explanation are just too ugly to relate here.  I leave it to 
the imagination of those that truly know him.

Evening had crept up on us with dainty feet.  The sky was somewhat cloudy and one could still feel the 
heat of the day even though the sun had dipped below the western mountains.  I was debating the merits of 
another mug of grog when Gabriel, Chastity, and Nork happened by.  They were crossing the field and 
shouted in me direction, "Drano, we need your assistance!"

I quickly gathered my things and hastened after them.  A few others were with them; the Mighty Vincent, 
Borax, and Erevan - the stone elf from Westmarch.  We were off to a cavern to acquire a ritual scroll of 
transformation that someone had discovered.  I still don't know the details as to who found out it was there 
or even where to look for it, but I felt good - my services were needed.  I remembered that Tristamere was 
looking for such a scroll for some reason.

We approached the entrance to the dark cave and heard loud snoring noises from within.  Gabriel went 
ahead to scout out the situation.  I surveyed the group and determined we had a fine outfit - two superb 
warriors, three healers, and two rogues - a great adventuring team!  I had heard that there were to be a few 
traps within the cave, so I was glad to have the two rogues along.  Especially rogues as skilled as the 
Mighty Vincent and Erevan of Westmarch.

Gabriel came back to us and announced that there were a half dozen trolls inside the mouth of the cave, 
apparently asleep.  Chastity and Gabriel went to the front and, through spell and alchemical gas, made 
certain that the trolls wouldn't wake too soon.  The rest of us examined the chamber of the cave and 
discovered a tunnel leading deeper into the cave.  When Gabriel announced that all the trolls were asleep 
"for a while", I chanced a light.

My earth magic illuminated a small stick in me hand, casting strange moving shadows on the walls of the 
cave.  In the dimness we discovered an open box with some coins, potions, and a small gem.  But this 
wasn't what we were after, so we had to venture further into the cave.

This caused a problem, though, for the next chamber had some sort of liquid all over the floor.  A small 
wooden wheel of sort was also in the cave.  Vincent stepped forward into the room but hopped back with a 
whoop.  The liquid was some kind of acid!  We saw an exit on the other side of the room and were debating 
how to get across when the Mighty Vincent jumped up onto the wheel and like an acrobat, rolled the wheel 
across the room to a lever on the wall.  I've never seen such nimbleness, but then, I don't hang around with 
hoblings very often either.  Vincent pulled the lever and a sucking sound came from the center of the room 
as the acid drained away down a hole.  The Mighty Vincent hopped up and cheerfully announced, "All 
clear!"

We hastened into the room and discovered another small chest.  This one was closed, however, and locked.  
Erevan examined the chest for a moment with a critical eye and then said, "It might be trapped.  Could 
someone hold the light while I examine it?"

I stepped forward but was brought up short by Gabriel.  He held out a hand and said, "Let me take your 
things.  Some traps are explosive and can destroy everything you own in the blast, even if they don't kill 
you."

I immediately saw the wisdom of the elf and handed over my weapon and shield.  Then, with only a spell-
book and armor, I went forward with the light to help Erevan.

The stone elf and I got down on our bellies and examined the chest.  It was an ornate box, about a foot 
square with a lock in the lid.  Erevan pulled out a small satchel of tiny tools and began to go over the chest 
like a lover.  His delicate hands caressed every groove in the woodwork, seeking some kind of catch or 
latch.  In a short time, he determined that the outside of the box wasn't trapped, so he began to work on the 
lock.  His fingers worked the lockpicks and in a matter of moments, a satisfying "click" told us that the 
lock had come open.

Erevan didn't rush to open the lid though.  He asked me to hold the light just so, then very slowly cracked 
open the lid.  This is where he made me nervous.  In a small voice, he just said, "Aha."  Inside the top of 
the box was a small gas trap.  When the lid was opened, the poisoned gas would pour forth and possibly kill 
whoever opened the box.  Erevan closed the lid and started digging through his tools.

I had a brief moment to think and I considered that a dwarf was perhaps one of the best trap-assistants ye 
could have.  If the poison trap went off, my dwarven tolerance would allow me to survive the effects of the 
gas, and my spells would soon cure the unfortunate rogue with me.  I chuckled to myself.

Erevan looked at me and asked, "Are you ready?"

With a more confident grin, I agreed.

Erevan began working at the trap with practiced fingers, but the bead of sweat rolling down his pale cheek 
told me that he was at least a little nervous.  I waited for the worst, but was pleasantly surprised when 
Erevan, never taking his eyes off his work, almost smiled.

If ye've never seen a stone elf smile, then ye haven't lived.  The stone elves are a race of deadpans.  They 
show almost no emotion - ever.  To see one cry or laugh is such a rare event, that I believe the elves kill 
anyone that ever sees such an unlikely happening.

With an audible "click", the trap was undone, and opening the lid revealed to us some gleaming coins, a 
few scrolls, and another small gem.  Erevan wiped the sweat from his cheek and got up.  This still wasn't 
what we were after so we had to venture further into the caves.  

Two chests later, we had acquired four of the strange gems.  Erevan expertly opened each chest and no ill 
effects from traps were suffered.  We came to the last room in the caves and found a small metal object 
with four holes in it.  Placing the gems in the holes caused a voice from nowhere to speak.  It told us of the 
power of two scrolls, not one, and with a flash of light, they appeared on the floor in front of us.  We 
quickly gathered them up and made our way from the caves back to Ravenholt.

Word soon spread that we had recovered the scrolls of transformation.  I found out that any person using a 
scroll could be transformed.  A warrior could become a mage or a healer could become a rogue.  The 
Baroness Ganth of Eastwyck was interested in changing from a scholar-healer into a templar or warrior-
healer.  Aleena, the Duchess' bodyguard also expressed a desire to transform herself.  It occurs to me that 
being a warrior/healer like myself is no longer the unusual occupation that it used to be.

Late that night, the scroll-bearers were summoned once again.  This time, the woman from Dragonshire 
was sure that she had the proper details of the ritual.  We gathered on the field away from the town proper.  
It was then that I realized that Bishop was nowhere to be found!  We searched high and low for him but to 
no avail.  Finally, just when the time to perform the ritual was upon us, Bishop came sauntering out of the 
darkness toward us.  We followed the woman from Dragonshire into the woods, where the spirit with the 
lantern was waiting for us.  

After a short walk, the woman from Dragonshire prepared us for the ritual.  I was moved from fifth in line 
to fifteenth, and another scroll-bearer took my place.  The woman told us a few words to speak when the 
spirit confronted us and we began the ritual.

The lantern-wielding spirit walked a line in front of the scroll-bearers and paused before each.  We spoke 
the names of the spirits we represented and their respective clans.  This time, the order was correct.  Spirit-
Dancer had educated the woman from Dragonshire well.  The spirit satisfied that we completed the 
"naming ceremony" properly, asked each of us if we were prepared to fight for the spirits we claimed to 
represent.  We each replied in turn and to our credit, not one scroll-bearer declined the responsibility for the 
spirits.  

The lantern-spectre then told us that we would have to go to the spirit realm and complete a task in order to 
free the spirit and bond with it.  It also stated that the tasks would get more difficult each time someone 
went.  So naturally, being the fifteenth, and last, person to go, I would have the most difficult task of all.  
Yippie.  Each bearer would be allowed to bring five others to the spirit realm to assist in completion of 
the task, but of the five, one MUST be a caster of sky magic.  Go figure.

With this happy little bit of knowledge, I retired for the evening, joyous in the realization that I would be 
going, once again, to "certain death".

The next day proved long and quiet.  I only had to find five individuals to help me with this spirit-task that 
not only didn't mind traveling to the spirit realm, but also were not already accompanying the fourteen 
other scroll-bearers.  With this weighty task at hand, I wandered about town for a while, debating whom to 
bring, when a realization hit me like a rock in the head.  Delahr.  ahem, Squire Delahr had sent me to 
certain death not long ago.  Perhaps he would be the best candidate for the job of sky-magic caster!  

I approached him on the topic and he readily agreed.  Just then, Malace stepped from the doorway.  I 
pleaded with him to assist me and he agreed - under one condition.  I had to help him with a ritual 
tonight.  Now to me, one ritual is as silly as another, so I accepted the terms.  Now I had to find three 
more.

Just then, a gentleman approached me and stated that the good Baron Northridge wanted to see me in his 
chambers.  I worried for a moment that I had erred in hitting him even two times while sparring the day 
before, but quickly put that to the side.  Curious about the summons, I headed to his cabin.

The Baron's chambers were lush and extravagant.  They were truly the quarters of a noble of his stature.  
His colors of blue and gray draped the walls, and a bearskin served as a blanket upon his bed.  Lying there 
upon the thick black fur, were a beautiful woman. and the Baron.

"Baron?" I asked.

"Yes.  AH!  Drano!  Good!  I'm glad you came.  I understand you have some small quest to complete."

"Yes Baron.  Why do you ask?"

"Well, if you don't mind, Lord Narik, Erevan, and I would like to accompany you. if you'll have us."

I was shocked but pleasantly surprised.  "Really?  I would be honored Lord Baron."

"Who else is with you?" questioned the Baron.

"Squire Delahr and Malace, sir."

"Good!  That's quite a group!"

"Well, Lord Baron, I think we'll need it.  As I understand it, our group will be last to go, and will have the 
toughest task to complete."  I said.

"Well, this would be the group to take then.  Come get us when the time comes."

With that, I left the Baron to his "activities" and got myself ale.  I thought, "How lucky am I?  Squire 
Delahr, Baron Northridge, and Lord Narik will assist me, (all that nobility in one place can't be good for 
the blood) and Malace - debatably the most powerful earth caster in the realms, as well.  I no longer feared 
the upcoming challenge, but welcomed it.

But the time for the challenge was not yet at hand.  Malace made mention of a task of his own. He said that 
there was a being, deep in the forest, that was creating magic circles of chaos and sacrificing woodland 
creatures to promote his evil plans.  Malace intended to lay in ambush and wait for the evil one to show.  
He asked me to join him and, as he had agreed to accompany me, I did him.

We set out for the deep part of the woods in the late evening.  The sun had set and darkness had fallen 
across the land.  Malace cast a light spell and led us far into the green sea of trees.  With us were members 
of Eastwyck including Squire Delahr and the Baroness, herself.  Sir Victdar was in attendance as well.  
Also along for the journey was an orc emissary.  A powerful warrior from another realm, the orc made an 
imposing silhouette against the backdrop of the horizon.  

We came to a clearing where Malace had first discovered the circles, and prepared our ambush.  Malace 
asked me to be his partner as the rest of the troop split into pairs and hid about the clearing.  Malace and I 
lay on a bed of soft pine needles, trying to keep our dusky shapes hidden, as we waited for our eyes to 
adjust to the blackness.  Somewhere off in the distance, just barely visible through the trees, we saw lights 
appear in the sky.  Malace said that faeries were celebrating something they call New Year.  As I recall, 
humans celebrate a holiday called New Year as well, but in the middle of winter, not summer.

We lay on the soft bed of pine needles for over hours, enjoying the sounds of the night, the warm summer 
air, and the faerie light show.  I enjoyed the time, for though we were waiting for a confrontation, the time 
at hand was peaceable and left me alone with my thoughts.  

One of these thoughts is that members of the court of Eastwyck should not hide in ambush.  They wear 
black and white as their colors and stick out like beacons in the dark of night.  Also, the Baroness, as kind 
as she is, should not be taken on an ambush.  She and her partner sat on one side of the clearing. giggling.  
After a while, whatever was so funny had passed and the clearing fell prey to the sounds of the forest.  I lay 
on my back, looking up at the canopy of the sky, listening to the crickets chirp, the bats brief squeaks, 
and. Malace snoring.

I nudged him awake just as I heard someone coming up the forest path.  He looked at me, and in the 
starlight, I saw the oval shape of his pupils as he surveyed the scene.  A man and three companions had trod 
up the path, lanterns held high over their heads.  They stopped by one side of the path and were examining 
something we hadn't seen before - a strange plant.  Malace let them work for a bit and then said, "Let's 
go."

I stood up and we moved quietly toward the group.  They didn't even notice Malace until he was right on 
top of them.  Two of the companions (they looked like apprentices of the leader) turned on him with a start, 
but Malace didn't flinch as he offered a cheery greeting.  I stayed about ten feet away and waited.  Malace 
talked with the leader for a time about plants and herbs until one of the apprentices, concerned that there 
might be more "Malaces" lurking in the woods, started to look around outside the range of their lanterns.  
That's when he saw me standing there and jumped back, eyes wide.  

Malace calmed them by telling them that I was with him, and they rightfully asked if there were more of us.  
That's when the Baroness and her troupe came out of the darkness.  Like raucous spectres, the others came 
crashing from their hiding places, startling the "herbalists". 

After some questioning, the Baroness and Sir Victdar determined that the leader was a mage.  The Baroness 
explained that we were looking for an evil mage, so the "herbalist" offered to perform a ritual for us to 
assuage any suspicions.  The ritual would require a half an hour, but would make Sir Victdar's war-club 
unbreakable.  Sir Victdar agreed and the ritual was begun.

Malace and I prepared for the worst and were ready with spells when the ritual was near completion.  
Tension filled the air as the last few minutes ticked by.  Then, suddenly, there was a loud explosion! And a 
bright flash of light as dangerous toxin clouds filled the air.  A few people fell over dead, and others went 
berserk, turning swords on everyone still standing.  But Malace has an. unusual nature, and I have built 
up immunities to many poisons.  So when the clouds hit us, we ignored the effects and began casting.  In 
the space of a few seconds, all of the herbalists had been neutralized and the members of Eastwyck were 
standing healthy and well.  

We revived the herbalist and his companions, but the Baroness insisted that they be brought before some 
authorities for questioning.

We headed back for town, enjoying the stretching of our legs as we walked, when we saw an eerie glow 
from the nearby forest.  We scouted the situation and saw a graveyard, lit by an unearthly light.  We 
considered a moment, then decided to return here after we'd been fed and watered.  So we continued on, 
until we emerged from the forests into the fields of Ravenholt.  

But the fields are quite expansive, and traversing them at night is no easy feat.  Malace and I got separated 
from the others, except for the orc, who seemed a friendly sort, for an orc.  I suppose that's why they made 
him an emissary.  The three of us walked across a field chatting about the ambush when we were set upon!

Out of the darkness they came, the only things darker than the night.  Malace whispered, "Dark Hunters".

They were truly creatures of the night.  Blacker than pitch, with no visible distinguishing marks, they were 
difficult to identify and keep in view.  They were vaguely humanoid in shape, but their arms ended in 
wicked talons capable of tearing gashes in steel.

There were three of them and they paired up against each one of us.  I threw a quick spell of binding on the 
one in front of me, but the spell seemed to have no effect on the terror.  The orc drew his large blade and 
hacked at the one near him, but the thing turned and backed off, staying just out of spell range.  Malace 
threw a number of different spells at his.  Most of them had no effect, but the "curse spells" seemed to do 
the trick.  An individual under the effect of a curse spell receives more severe wounds than someone who is 
not.  The Dark Hunter in front of me stayed at the edge of my sword's reach as we backpedaled our way 
across the field toward town.  Finally, near town, the fight began.  

The Dark Hunter came at me, claws scampering over my shield as my blade bit into its rotten hide.  Back 
and forth, blow after blow we went, with only my shield and my footwork keeping me from death by its 
nasty claws.  The orc was faring better in that he was a mighty warrior, and Malace, quick as a cat, was 
keeping out of range of the other's frantic swings.  We fought like that for many minutes, back and forth 
until finally, the orc's companions showed up.  Two more mighty warriors, the green-skinned humanoids 
attacked the Dark Hunters viciously and we finally ended up able to head full-speed for town.

We relaxed for a bit at the Inn, and after some ale and food Malace and I joined the other members of 
Eastwyck and Stormwatch and headed back to the woods and the eerie graveyard.

I peered over a rise in the forest and saw it, a large graveyard lit by a pale light that seemed to come from 
nowhere.  A thick fog rolled over the ground partially concealing the many tombstones, which looked like 
some child's scattered toys strewn all about.  On one end of the graveyard stood a cage, and inside was a 
person of some sort.  We all approached the creaking gate quietly, but not quietly enough.

>From the ground came a tearing sound as an emaciated hand tore its way free of the confines of the earth.  I 
felt the tingle of chaos on the back of my neck as I watched the dead rise from various points all over the 
graveyard.  The rotted corpses pulled themselves from the ground and staggered on worm-eaten legs 
toward us.

But, you see it will take a little more than a few undead to frighten the likes of the combined force of 
Stormwatch and Eastwyck.  Compared to the battle in Nikijo's Realm, this was looking like a tea party!  
Blades sang like a choir as they leaped from their sheaths, and we looked at each other with an odd sort of 
glee as we went to do what we do best - rid the world of the forces of evil!

I have often described the "Dance of Death" as I've seen Gabriel and Nork fight alongside each other.  
Many who have seen them know what I mean.  Well, this was like that but on a far grander scale.  The 
members of the two teams paired up with each other and fought in a very similar fashion, turning the 
cemetery into a veritable ballroom.  Each of us changed partners as often as a fop changes clothes, and I 
sensed that each of us felt camaraderie as we danced.

After quite some time, though, the constant flow of new undead had not ebbed, and, not being able to figure 
out how to open the cage (it was magically sealed), we withdrew from the ballroom of the dead and went to 
our respective beds to get a much-needed rest.

The following day started with a scream.  I didn't see much of it, but apparently, Countess Altair had been 
unknowingly carrying around an egg of the Brood within her.  Some time ago, when we fought the Brood, 
the Countess was impregnated by one of the foul creatures.  Anyway, the egg decided that this was a fine 
day to hatch.  And hatch it did!  The baby Brood killed everyone in the Countess' cabin and left before 
awakening townspeople could arrive to help.  The creature escaped into the woods before anyone could get 
to the scene, but the people that did were rallied and went off to scour the woods.  I still don't know if they 
ever found the Brood, though.

Then, in the late morning, Spirit Dancer came to me and said, "It's time."

I gathered the Baron, Squire Delahr, and the others to go off to the tent of Spirit Dancer and participate in 
the freeing of Felthis.  But apparently, Erevan could not join us, so the Baron got a hold of a woman named 
Emerald.  She's a gypsy and has similar talents as Erevan, healing abilities, and other talents that I'm 
certain the Lord Baron and Squire Delahr would like to examine at length.  But on their recommendation, 
she came with us, and I was glad to have a complete group

Spirit Dancer's hut was small and cramped, especially after we put the six of us in there.  There were many 
assorted trinkets and whatzamawhozits, and Spirit Dancer fondled each one lovingly - go figure out a 
shaman sometime.  You might hurt yourself.

The shaman lit some sort of incense and began mixing a drink.  As he mixed, he explained that the drink 
would enable us to pass into the spirit realm.  The realm would be dangerous, and we would have to pass 
more than a few tasks to successfully complete our journey.  He said that since I was representing the 
fifteenth of the spirits that this quest would be the most difficult.  Great.

Finally, he poured some of the smoking brew for all of us.  It smelled a little like oranges, and looked 
strange as it spewed a foggy mist over the sides as I held the cup.  But hey, I'm a dwarf!  I've drunk scarier 
looking things in my time and wasn't about to be outdone by some shaman.  So. bottom's up!

The brew went down smooth, but I've had better.  Then we all experienced the same thing.  It was like 
someone had made us look through a bottle.  The edges of our vision were distorted, but the area in front of 
us was quite clear.  Then, Spirit Dancer pointed to the fireplace and said, "Follow the Voice."

"What Voice?" I wondered, and "How are we gonna walk through a burning fireplace?  And worse!  What 
the heck is this nutty shaman doing using a fireplace in the middle of summer?"

Yet we crawled through the burning fire and did not get burned.  When we stood up on the other side, the 
place behind us was gone, and before us stood a hallway.  We heard a voice saying, "Come."  So we 
headed down the corridor.

The corridor opened up into a huge chamber.  Most of the chamber was filled with water, but a small 
walkway lead around the room to the other side where we saw a stairway.  Also, to our right, we noticed a 
doorway.  Malace took a look and determined that both the doorway and the stairs were warded with magic 
and would require a special key to open the way.  We looked about and saw a large bowl in the middle of 
the pool.  Right next to that, was a pedestal, and upon the pedestal was a magical key.  A rope hung across 
the ceiling from where we were to just over the bowl.  

Then we heard the Voice again.  "Get the key to open the door.  Retrieve the staff to destroy the Water-
King.  Then the path shall be revealed." 

Just as the voice stopped, shapes emerged from the watery depths.  It would be certain death to fall in there, 
I thought, as the lot of us drew our weapons.  Elementals rose from the pool and began to hurl pure water at 
us.  One water-ball hit me and felt like a rock!  Don't want to take too many of those!  But it seemed the 
elementals could only do this a few times each, for soon they closed with us to melee.  This was where I 
really felt good about who was with me on this quest.  Baron Northridge and Squire Delahr are both 
masters of the blade, Delahr is a mage of great ability, Emerald has many healing spells, Malace has even 
more, and Lord Narrik is an earth mage of great ability.  Soon the waters were calm once again, but we 
knew by the ripples on the surface that more would be along soon.

Baron Northridge looked at the rope suspended over the water, flexed his muscles a bit and said, "I'll get 
it."  He stripped his tabard, much to the appreciation of Emerald, handed it to me with his sword and shield, 
and with great agility, leapt to the rope.  Hand-over-hand he worked his way to the pedestal.  There, he 
brought his legs up and about the rope and with a mighty effort, released the rope with his hands and 
dangled upside-down over the pedestal.  He grabbed the key, then said, "Hey!  There's another one in the 
pool!"

But the time was upon us again to do battle with watery minions.  This time the Water-King showed 
himself, and with a roar, summoned more of his elementals to the surface before disappearing back beneath 
the frothing waters.  The Baron almost flew across the rope and leapt right next to me as the first water-ball 
was thrown.  I handed him his sword and defended his flank as he strapped on his shield.  Then, he and 
Delahr made quick work of the creatures.

Emerald saw to their wounds as Lord Narrik examined the key.  It went into the lock on the door and 
something went "click".  Then, the door just disappeared as if it were never there.  A deep pit lay on the 
other side, and across its considerable length, was a ledge where the Staff of Fire was.  Delahr knew he 
could get it, and he and the others went across.  The Baron and I stayed to guard their backs.  Just then, I 
spied Malace across the room examining something on the wall.  But I was unable to look for long because 
the water bubbled once again and from the turbulent waters came the Water-King.  More elementals came 
to the surface, but this time, only the Baron and I stood in their way.

We decided to fight a defensive battle from the corridor we came through - there was an archway we could 
duck behind to avoid the water-balls, and the others seemed safe on the other side of the pit.  The 
elementals came at us then but we stood our ground.  We saw one of them notice Malace on the other side 
of the room - seemingly oblivious to the tempest around him.  So the Baron stepped out from the safety of 
the archway to distract them.  Two of the elementals went to fight him while two others drew back their 
arms to hurl more water-balls at me.  

I had no hope of avoiding all of the missiles that came at me.  The barrage of rock-hard water that hit me 
made me feel like I was in an avalanche.  I couldn't even feel each one hit me as my body was pelted 
repeatedly by the water.  Still clutching the Baron's tabard, I fell back into the corridor. and darkness.

My eyes fluttered open to see Lord Narrik over me, administering his healing magics.  The Baron helped 
me to my feet and said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get to you in time.  That looked horrible!"  The bruises and 
the pain were still there, but much diminished, thanks to LordNarrik.  Squire Delahr reveled to me the Staff 
of Fire with a grin and we prepared to retrieve the other key from the pool.

Before that could happen, we had to do battle with yet another wave of water elementals.  This time, I was 
ready, and the full brunt of our group was brought to bear on them.  I fought two of them off 
simultaneously until the Squire and Baron could arrive to dispatch them.

Then, the Voice spoke to us again, "Use the Staff, oh mage, to destroy the Water-King that the path will be 
clear."

Just as it finished speaking, the water bubbled again and the Water-King emerged from his pool.  But the 
good Squire was ready, and leveled the Staff at him, invoking the magics to activate it.  The Staff belched 
forth a searing ball of flame that shot into the King like a ballista bolt.  The King exploded into a ball of 
steam and the way to the stairs was clear.

The Baron climbed out on the rope again and retrieved the other key, and we ascended the stairs into a 
tomb.  A large coffin was propped against the wall.  It was engraved, studded with gems, and inlaid with 
gold.  I heard a voice speak, "Who are you?"

I said, "I am Felthis, shaman of clan Lynx." 

With that, the voice said something to the extent of, "At long last, I am freed."  Then it babbled something 
about its past.  Frankly, I was too exhausted from the battle to pay much attention.  Finally, it got to the 
point.  "Will you join with me?"

I stepped back and considered for a moment.  I've heard of people who deal with spirits on a regular basis, 
and they've told me some pretty tall stories.  But this one would take the cake.  A spirit was asking me to 
let it into my body.  Now why would anybody allow a spirit, other than their own, into their body?  A 
person would have to be daft!  And I muttered something to that effect. which drew a demeaning look 
from the Baron, who is apparently one of those people who's always letting spirits into his body.  Oh yeah, 
now that I think of it, I believe I was helping him deal with one of those angst-filled moments not too long 
ago. I think I chronicled that somewhere.

Fine. fine. "Go to the spirit realm", they said.  "Rescue the trapped spirit", they said.  "Let it into your 
body so you have two of you in there instead of just one", they said.  Fine. Fine.

I let the thing enter me.  It felt kinda like being drunk and having the hangover at the same time.  Not 
something I want to do on a regular basis, I tell you.  With that, we were free to go.  

Just as we got back to town, though, we had to make haste to the lakefront.  The lizard men of the lake had 
been disturbed by the spirits being around all weekend and had decided to terrorize the town.  The heroes 
of Ravenholt gathered and fought them off - much of the battle in the lake itself, as well as out.  After a 
long, arduous battle, the lizard men were routed and Ravenholt was safe once again for. ooo. my 
head. damn this spirit!  I hope he like being good and drunk, `cuz that's what he's gonna get!  

What stupid, moronic spirit would want to be in the body of a dwarf anyway?  This will make him think 
next time before he sends messenger spirits all over creation at random!.  Another beer, please!  And 
while you're at it, how about some really spicy food?  I'll show this spirit!  Idiot!  When I'm a spirit, I'm 
gonna send my messengers looking for other dwarves!   Never mind this randomness!  For all I know, I 
could get stuck in the body of an Elf!  Or a Hobling!  Hey. what if I got the body of a stinking Goblin?  
Stupid spirits.  The only good spirits are Dwarven Spirits!  Bah!!!.

-- as seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer,  July 25, 597