Enter: Temple of Dala

Meet: SQUIRE PHILLIP

The road was littered with rocks.

Instinctively he knew that they simply fallen from the sides of the rocky defile which now faced them, but a part of him entertained the notion that perhaps they had fallen onto the roadbed when someone had scrambled up the cliffs to await their party.

"If we head to the west, there's always the possibility the moredhel will have more assassins waiting for us," Locklear said. "Do we risk it?"

YES:

Days passed.

Disliking the exposed feeling created by the defile, they moved quickly during the nights and left the days to resting under rocky overhangs and listening for assassin's footsteps. At last, footsore and road weary, they emerged near the town of Tyr-Sog.

A friendly woman answered their knock.

She introduced herself as Larissa Halfgate, daughter of Flendel Halfgate. After a short conversation she further revealed she was on her own and was having more than her share of trouble with a rusty barn door. Slightly embarrassed that they had been so forward as to open the barn without consulting her first, James explained what they had done to finally get the door open.

"Thank you so much! I just wish I had some way to pay you," she said with a slight scowl.

"That won't be --" James began, but the woman had already retreated to a far corner of the house. When she returned, she handed him a tuning fork, a shell and an herbal pack.

They exchanged thanks and then she bid them farewell.

The lay of the goods store was comfortably familiar, arranged in such a common sense fashion that it took only a few moments for Gorath to locate the items which interested him.

Unaware until he stepped in to the room that he had been chilled, Owyn was glad to have the solid oaken door of the room closed behind him. Others within seemed likewise contented as they chatted quietly among themselves, taking little notice of the new arrivals.

James pried off the lid. Sifting through the thick silt which covered the bottom of the barrel, he shook the contents until he could make out a faint gleam at the bottom of the barrel. Pleased his search hadn't gone unrewarded, he quickly added the twenty silver pieces to their collective wealth.

The barrel was empty. Securing the lid back in place, James shrugged. "It's empty."

James knocked on the door.

Presently, a stout woman answered and after a short exchange of pleasantries, ushered them inside. "My husband is in the other room working on a new pair of shoes. I'll tell him you are here."

She disappeared behind a cloth curtain that apparently separated the living area of the house from the work area. The curtains parted again and a smiling man entered the room.

"Why yes, gentlemen. Have you come for a pair of shoes? Perhaps you'd like a pair for your lady friends, eh? I'm working on a new shoe design for ladies of high fashion." He held up a pair of shoes that had a thin two inch heel.

James frowned. "Wouldn't it feel like you were walking down hill all day long?"

The old man looked at James, then back at the shoe. "Ack. Maybe you're right. In any case. I have some fine footwear here if you're interested. The elves call them 'weedwalkers.' You just put them on under your boots and it somehow muffles the sound. Are you interested?"

The stooped man who came to the door was wiping his hands on a stained cloth.

"Welcome to Eldpoint. Have you come to buy a pot? Very fine quality," the man said with a broad smile.

"Yes, I'm sure they are, but we are travellers and would have no use for such items. What can you tell us of your town?" asked James.

The man put down his rag, rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm and wrist. "Well, there's a general store called 'Guds' and an Inn called 'The Royal Bed.' A few houses here and there... Nothing out of the ordinary... Why?"

Shaking his head slightly James said, "No reason. Just curious. Thank you for your time, sir. Good day."

The house was badly in need of repair, but it appeared as though someone might be living in it so James knocked loudly and stood back to wait.

A female voice called out to them from inside, "Who is it?"

"Official Kingdom business, we need to speak with you," James said firmly.

The door opened slowly on a woman who seemed surprised and dismayed to see them standing before her. "Please kind sirs, we didn't mean no harm. The house was abandoned when we found it." Her torn dress fluttered in the small breeze, just as her voice fluttered in her nervousness.

Owyn noticed -- sensed perhaps -- that she was with child. "That's not why we have come. What can you tell us of this area? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"No sirs. There ain't been much -- wait a minute. A detachment from Highcastle camped out just south of here and I think they left behind a couple boxes. Didn't look in 'em, though."

James told the woman to stay in the house as long as she and her husband needed to stay there. "I don't think the owner has any plans to come back here. Good-bye."

Enter: HIGHCASTLE

Locklear shook his head.

"I don't like the idea of going this way," he said. "We can't accomplish anything that far north. All that is up there is controlled completely by Moredhel, and we would be walking straight into the enemy's hands."

"Wonderful day, don't you think?" said the pleasant woman that came to the door.

"Yes, yes it is," replied James. "We were wondering if we could talk with you and your husband for a moment."

"I'm sorry, Marchus is out hunting right now. Perhaps I can help you."

"Actually, we were wondering if you had noticed anything...out of the ordinary...around here recently," James inquired.

"Well, now that you mention it, yes. Marchus found three strange chests last time he was out hunting, said they had some strange writing on them."

Owyn, who had been distractedly digging at some dirt under his fingernails, perked up at the talk of the chests.

"Do you remember where he said he found them?" asked James.

The woman thought for a moment then said, "Yes, I believe I do. Just follow this road south until you see a pile of rocks. Get off the road and go south a little bit more, then turn west and walk until you hit the mountains. The chests should be right there..."

They politely thanked her for the information and left.

James's knock was answered by an old man whose wrinkled appearance stood in sharp contrast to the military straightness with which he carried his body. He introduced himself as Irlaan, former swordmaster of Highcastle, and went on to regale them with stories of his victories and conquests through the years. They listened with great interest, especially when he talked of some of the more recent border skirmishes he had been made aware of.

Finally, exhausted by his storytelling, the old man excused himself to take a nap.

A pretty woman answered the door.

After the appropriate introductions, she allowed them entry to her small but well-decorated home. They discovered her name was Sara Halfgate and that her husband was a trader, away on business.

"We've come looking for a bag of grain. Perhaps you could help us," inquired James.

The woman seemed hesitant. "Well sirs, I have several bags of grain here, but my husband would be very angry if he found them missing upon his return. I could perhaps spare a single bag if you could help me find a present for the Midsummer festival."

"I'm not sure how we could help," said James.

"He's been talking about wanting a pair of leather leggings, if you could find such a thing I will give you a bag of grain. Do we have a deal?"

The shop was littered with castoffs, forgotten trinkets, lost items which few would want or need to reclaim. Here it seemed that tarnish and rust were the things that were prized, the items to which they clung of only secondary value.

Mist floated in the pass.

"This road leads through the Dimwood forest," Locklear said. "It might be a good way to keep our passage concealed from prying eyes. Think we should go this way?"

YES:

They moved south.

For days they moved in mist, the moisture soaking into their clothes and chilling them by night. When at last the mountains sloped downward, the fog lifted and they found themselves standing at the edge of a great wood...

Enter: Temple of Tith

Everywhere Locklear looked, polished metal gleamed. As much a temple to war as any Temple of Tith, the cramped shop offered a startling variety of weapons and armor.

Within, the accommodations were humble. Several splintering tables had been jammed in to the common room and arranged to accommodate perhaps twenty five men, thirty if hunger pressed them. Greasy stains covered benches and walls, evidence of wild days past.

James knocked on the door and took a patient step back to wait.

There were no sounds coming from inside the house and he was about to knock again more loudly when the door opened. A frail little man with green hands stood before them, an inquisitive look on his wrinkled face.

"Good day to you, sir," James said. On second glance, he noticed that the little man was wearing gloves. Behind him he could make out several bubbling jars and some small wooden bowls heaped with colored powder...

"A fine day to taste death. Care to see my tasty little morsels? Perhaps you'd care to buy something..." said the man in a hoarse whisper.

James knocked on the door. It seemed a bit larger than normal, and when the owner of the house answered he could see why. The man stood as tall as Gorath, a revelation that man and moredhel both seemed to find unsettling.

"My name is Murphy, how can I help you gentlemen?"

Staring up at the man, James replied with another question, "What can you tell us about Wolfram?"

Shrugging his massive shoulders, Murphy looked off toward the other buildings in town. "Well, The Wolf's Teeth is just down the road if you're looking for some food and drink. They've got weapons at The Arms of Dala, and there used to be an Inn but it closed down. We use it for hangings now. That's my job."

James swallowed a bit harder than he intended, then thanked the man for his information and left.

Knocking on the wooden door, James read the small intricately carved sign that hung from it. The sign said: 'Enter with joy in your hearts, that it may fill our house.'"

A young woman answered his knock, and behind her James could see several small children. Also visible was a man seated at a small table, scratching carefully on a piece of yellowed parchment with a quill pen. He glanced up as they entered. "Yes?"

After the necessary introductions, the man told them he was a scribe, and that he was working on an important document for Baron Gabot at Northwarden. Though he wouldn't show it to them, James guessed that it was an official account of the increased moredhel activity in the Northlands.

They thanked the man, and left him to his work.

James knocked angrily on the door.

From inside the house they heard some mumbled grunts and curses. At last the door swung open and a little man with a wisp of greying beard joined them in front of the house.

PATRUS: Pah! I figured the spell might go fuzzly on me! No one was supposed ta gets past my little pets. Now, I'll have to reconjure me some--

JAMES: We were very nearly killed by your little pets. Not a very hospitable way to welcome friendly visitors.

PATRUS: Never mindin' the fact I didn't invite you! But if'n you got hurt, I wasn't meanin' for innocent folk to gets involved. It's just that the only guests I receive these days come from the Northlands...

JAMES: You have friends in the Northlands?

PATRUS: Friends? No, not as such. The visitors I receive are never welcome. Goblins mostly, sent from ole Belly Khan to pinch my spellbooks and formulas. They don't much care for me interfering with 'em, working spells and such for Baron Gabot at Northwarden. I was hopin' these illusions I was makin' would be more effective, but 'parently they ain't worth a gnat's spit. Need to work on 'em more. Let me give you somethin' so you can get yourselves fixed up...

JAMES: That won't be necessary. We're fine.

PATRUS: Who said anything 'bout you?! Baron gets wind I went 'round inflicting grief on innocent bystanders, I'll be dicing taters with the kitchen boys or singing duets with old mash brain Tamney. You'll find a pouch of two hundred gold in that little chest over in the corner. If'n you go north from here a bit, you'll run across the Temple of Tith. I imagine they can put you to rights again. But a word of advice, you see buglies in fronts of you in the future, insteada' fightin' em, run the other way!

The stench of death hung heavy about the small tent.

James pulled back the entrance flap, his breath held tightly in his chest. The decomposing body of a man lay slumped on the dirt floor amidst a variety of wood and metal tools.

"Looks like a miner," James said quickly, trying not to breathe in through his nose. "Let's see if there is anything in here we can use."

James's knock was greeted with a giggle.

The door was pulled open cautiously from the inside by two women. They seemed very nervous and giggled frequently as they introduced themselves.

"I'm Gena Halfgate and this is my sister Andrea," the eldest began. Stifling another laugh she continued, "I hope you haven't come to hear us play."

"Play?" inquired James.

"My sister and I used to play our violins for all the lonely soldiers passing through, but of late we haven't had many guests and our instruments have gotten out of tune. Say! Do you have a tuning fork? If you had a tuning fork we would be ever so grateful."

Seeing James's doubtful expression she said, "We don't have much money we could offer, but a soldier left behind some leather leggings we have no use for. Will you trade us a tuning fork for some leather leggings?"

See: [CHAPTER 5] for Dialogues unique to Chapter 5

Owyn surveyed the shop. Though he could see no perceptible evidence the shop's owner had placed any special wards around his inventory, he was dimly aware of something unnatural about the doorway through which they had passed. In the pit of his stomach, he knew that thieves would find themselves the victim of some magical unpleasantness.

Within, the accommodations were humble. Several splintering tables had been jammed in to the common room and arranged to accommodate perhaps twenty five men, thirty if hunger pressed them. Greasy stains covered benches and walls, evidence of wild days past.

The community barn at Dencamp on the Teeth was of the usual variety. The occupants were also a standard mix of cows, sheep and chickens. Still, James decided it would be worth a look around.

It was obvious the barn hadn't been shoveled out in some time and the stench was nearly unbearable. He was just about to leave when his eye spotted something shiny. He kicked aside some dirt and hay with his foot. The darkness made it difficult to see, so he bent down to take a closer look... It was a single gold coin that caught his eye, but now upon closer inspection he could see that there were actually nine of the little treasures spilling out of a small clothbag.

"Well, I guess I'll have to appropriate these funds for Kingdom business," James muttered to himself. "Looks like they've been here for sometime so I'm sure they won't be missed."

A lady with tear stained eyes opened the door in response to James's knock.

"I'm so glad you're he -- Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were my brother. He's coming up to stay with me for awhile."

She invited them into her home and told them of her lover, who had recently been killed by trolls in a border skirmish near the fortress at Northwarden.

Owyn asked gently, "He was a soldier, then?"

She nodded as a new well of tears pooled in her eyes. "Friends have been bringing food. More than I will be able to eat. You may take some if there's anything left."

James knocked, his knuckles were becoming quite familiar with this particular door.

"What do you want?" yelled the voice.

"We know the password. It's 'Diamonds.'"

There was a pause and James thought he could hear whispering and murmuring inside. Then the booming voice spoke again. "You may enter."

The scarred door swung open and they were allowed into the house. Roughly a dozen men were crammed inside, most holding swords. Several were sporting fresh injuries.

After a brief discussion they discovered that the group had planned a raid into the Northlands to recover a valuable treasure rumored to be kept there. They had encountered much more resistance than expected, so they were courting more able bodied men for the next attempt. But what James was really interested in, was how they had managed to kill so many Goblins...

"Got ourselves a magician. That's what we done!" boasted one of the men in response to James's question. "Burned those Goblin's brains out with some spell. Really seemed to drive 'em crazy. Poor Lionel. The spell didn't work so well on the Troll what killed 'im." There were murmurs of "poor Lionel" all around the room.

As they were preparing to leave, one of the men motioned to a small chest in the corner. "Lionel left a magic scroll in there, perhaps you can figure out what to do with it," he said.

James knocked on the door.

"The password is diamonds," he said matter-of-factly.

"No, it is not," came a voice from inside the house. "We changed it. Now go away."

James shrugged his shoulders and motioned that he was ready to leave.

The front door was scratched heavily, as though by swords. His own sword drawn, Gorath cautiously ventured inside. The weather beaten exterior of the house was in better shape than the ransacked interior. What was left of a small wooden table and two chairs, rested at odd splintered angles throughout the house.

After a brief search turned up nothing of interest, they decided to leave...

OWYN: Did thieves do that?

GORATH: There would be no reason for them to tear the place up like that. No, the evidence of my eyes suggests a small band of trolls recently paid a call here. Probably killed the owner and his family, too. I pray to Ishap they didn't find any women when they arrived.

The remains of a sheep lay just inside the door to the barn, its body a twisted bloody mass of bone and wool.

Owyn stood open mouthed, breathing heavily. It was obvious that the animal had been carved with a knife, and that the carver was after its meat. What disturbed him was the brutality with which the act had been carried out. Blood had splattered everywhere and there were bits of dried meat on the walls and ceiling, probably flung there by the knife as it violently hacked in and out of the defenseless creature. Other animals in the barn had met a similar fate.

Owyn thought it strange how the sight of men killed in combat had no more effect than the scene laid out before him. After a moment's hesitation he decided it was time to leave.

See: [CHAPTER 5] for Dialogues unique to Chapter 5

Enter: NORTHWARDEN

Meet: MINSTREL TAMNEY

Widow Halfgate greeted them at the door. "Come in, come in!" she said warmly.

They entered her house and made themselves comfortable as she prepared some tea. While she worked she told them of the soldier at Northwarden that she had her eye on. "He's hooked, he just doesn't know it yet," she said with a grin.

Locklear smiled back, not knowing whether to envy the man or pity him. They spoke for several minutes and finally turned to leave, thanking her once again for her hospitality as they left.

Owyn was whistling.

Suddenly aware his travelling companion had grown irrepressibly cheerful over the last few miles, Locklear turned and favored the squire with an inquisitive stare.

"Why the sudden lift in your spirits?" Locklear asked.

"We're heading towards my uncle Corvalis' estates in Cavall Keep, assuming we keep heading this way. We are going that direction aren't we?"

YES:

Owyn talked as they travelled.

Pointing out familiar geographical features, he related a good deal of history about the region's history as they pushed through a hedgerow. Soon, they found themselves back upon a major road.

Gorath took a water pouch out of his pack and leaned over the well.

A strange smell invaded his nose and he sniffed it again suspiciously. It seemed to be coming from the well. He leaned over even more and tried to focus his gaze on the water below, but could not distinguish it from the murky darkness.

As Locklear approached, he held up a hand to stop him. "I do not think this is ordinary well water."

"Are you going to try to drink some?" asked Locklear.

Locklear shook his head.

"I don't like the idea of going this way," he said. "We can't accomplish anything that far north. All that is up there is controlled completely by Moredhel, and we would be walking straight into the enemy's hands."