Library: How to move a statue

"Maybe we should drown em." "Or toss 'em. Cena pays good money for 'em." "He ain't a dwarf. He pays to toss dwarves." Elby listened to the two men argue over his fate like he was some sort of post-dinner snack. I do not want to die on my first adventure. He brushed the thought aside. Breathe. Steady. Those words were the best advice his Uncle had even given him, coming in handy in so many situation. It would be embarrassing if word got back to his sister that he had died on his first solo outing. Okay, maybe clearing his head didn’t always work. He tugged at the robes. It was no use though. The two drunks were clever enough to have hog tied him tightly. Not to mention the pounding sensation in his head from having had drinks with these two fools in the first place. Though who is most the fool? The drunks or the halfling the drunks had tied up. He had paid the bill after drinking with Cena and Orton - happy to have enjoyed a night in the city so much. He did not think anything of it when the two had joined him outside the bar. That was until one of them clubbed him in the back of the head with a piece of wood. He woke up outside the town being argued over. He would have tried talking his way out of the situation except the two of them had added a gag to the effort. Elby had one thought. Towns are dangerous to halflings.

Elby wanders over to the statue and starts looking around the base. Then he hopes up and starts looking at the statue closer. "Do we have to bring the WHOLE statue to the portal? What if we just broke off some of it?" Elby starts pushing and pulling on the statue to see if there's any give.

None. At least for him by himself.

From his spot next to the bookshelves, Stones looks at the statue and then to the door that leads to the portal. "25-35 feet to the door. I imagine the statue weighs a good deal more than I can move myself. Radegast, how do you feel?  Up for moving a statue?" He walks over and joins Elby at the statue.

Radegast remains near the books. Waiting. Thinking. Pondering. Suddenly, a laugh escaped him, sounding half-hiccup, half-giggle.

Radegast laughed. It had been so long since he laughed the sound was foreign. "The monkey brain's, Very tasty for me and good for me, not so good for the monkey though." A terrible joke. Radegast couldn't help but laugh. Maybe the torch light causes tricks on my mind. He was deep within a Berkshire Mountain. Deep enough that he lost count of his steps, lost count of the twists of the passageway, maybe deep enough that he had finally lost himself. Geo's joke was not even funny. On an intellectual level Radegast knew that. "Double-or-nothing," that was the bet Geo have offered while knitting (what dwarf knitted anyway?) over the campfire two nights ago. Only bet when you have nothing to lose. Those were words Radegast's wife had once said, and he recalled them with ease. With nothing to lose Radegast had double-downed. As a result he found himself deep within a mountain's belly with Geo. He already owned the good half of Geo's brew route; many people would have considered it suicide to go with a competitor to such a foreign place. Radegast had long ago cast the fear of dying aside therefore he did not consider it a problem to have such a journey. "Da mushrooms is da best."

"Let me light the way." Radegast fingered his weapon expectantly.

"NO!" Geo was not fond of the flaming weapon. Geo had long ago dismissed the cliche of dwarves not liking magic. It was not magic he had issue with, his issue was that his ingredients were so sensitive that the slightest change in temperature could ruin them and the flaming weapon certainly changed the temperature. 

He sounds like a cheese monger my wife once knew. The cheese monger was constantly complaining that the best cheeses were worth more than a cow, or sheep, or wheat in trade since it took so much more. As a brewer Radegast could understand the thought. As a brewer Radegast also knew that experimentation was also useful. He smiled to himself. A smile and a laugh all in one day. He continued to follow Geo into the heart of the mountain. Despite his 200 plus years Geo could move with great stealth when he felt like it. Then suddenly Geo was gone. A moment before he and his torch had been in front of Radegast. Radegast did not panic. Instead Radegast turned the flame on his sword on.

Stones examines the statue, looking at its size, balance, checking for indications it has been moved before, sub as scratch marks on the floor. "Noienna how are we to move this?  Is there a trick, or do we gather the rest of our party and muscle it across the floor?"

“I have no idea. I always just liked the statue. It is very pretty.” Noienna’s voice echoes deeply from Stones body. The voice never seems to come out the same way twice.

Stones aded a push. The statue did not move, though it swayed…slightly. Between Stones and Elby they found that there was not enough brute force they could snap the base of the statue from its base. They would need Radegast’s strength to snap it.

Elby gives up pushing, well aware the two of them cannot break it off alone. "So where is the portal we're supposed to use for your statue? I saw a set of doors on the upper level."

“Yes, that is where the sacrifice takes place.” Once again Noienna's voice echoes out from Stones, slightly different than the last.

Elby decides to take a seat and begins to check over his arrows and bow. Taking care to ensure each will be able to hit its mark. His mind starts to wander.

It was a cold, snowy day in mid February. No good for hunting, there would be nothing stirring on a day like this. So Elby was in the living room of his parents house checking his arrows and bow. He was enjoying the warmth of the main fire place. As he re-strung his bow, he was listening to his sister give grammar and spelling lessons to a few kids from the village. "When the o and the u are together they make a special sound." Shaleesa was droning on. "This is the same sound we use for words like outside (pointing to the word on a board), south, and mouth. Now repeat after me; out, south, mouth." One student in particular is practicing making the right sound as he reads. Little Trich, the town chemist's son, raises his hand. "This is like the jars at home. My daddy gets some of his dirts from Portsmouth. That's what they say on the side." Shaleesa covers a quick smirk. "That's a tricky word, Trich. Like your name, it's not pronounced the way it looks. Instead of pronouncing it Portsmouth, it sounds more like Portsmith." "But why is it like that?" Asks the young boy. "Well, when we see names of places, they come from different languages and sound different."

Elby snaps out of his day dreaming and places the last arrow he was checking back in his quiver  Elby lowers himself from the base where he was sitting and walks over to where the others are examining the books. "Say, ya ever been to Portsmouth? Know why it's called that? Do you think a portal could come out there?"

Radegast’s ears perk up slightly at Portsmouth. “I’ve been to a Portsmith before. No idea why it was called that.” He looks irritated. Not at Elby specfically but at everything.

Noienna pipes up from deep within Stones’. Her voice does not disguise the surprise and excitement. “Portsmouth?! I was born there. No idea about a portal though. Though with all of the beauty, wonder meant and greatness I would not be surprised.”

Stones waits to see if Radegast will join them. "And what of these scrolls?  I can cast the rituals, and can hold them in safe keeping. Unless one of you has a desire to hold them...?"  He leaves the question hanging.

He leaves the question hanging. Where are they going? Stones watched the ships in the bay slide by. Every day he climbed the 402 steps to tower that was buried into the side of the hill and watched the world continue on without him. Suresh's home had been full of surprises. Books. Journals. Servants that keep the grounds perfect and were happy to fulfill Stones every need. Each morning the pillow had been fluffed, the luxurious bed made until Stones had set that man away. Each morning breakfast had awaited, always steaming as though it had just come from the oven and the smells tempting his most mouth until Stone had dismissed that woman. The chamber maid had promised to fulfill Stones most wanton needs until she had taken the hint of his steely gaze, never to step into his house again. When he climbed the steps to the observation tower he stopped those people and so many more. He had no idea if they knew he could see them, only that the servants continued to work hard to maintain Suresh's...no Stones property until they disappeared into their own small homes as the sun set. The 402 steps were Stones only connection to the outside world. The observation toward was so cunningly cut into the hill that even when he knew where it was Stones could not spy it from far below. 402 steps to know the sun still rose and the world still existed when Stones would have been perfectly content if it had ended. Stones never bothered to inquiry where in the world he actually was. He only knew the magic to take him here any time and really that was all that was necessary. For a while he had not bothered to shave or bathe, until he recalled Suresh's voice, “You will always shave and bathe!” So he did. Stones saw that there game was plentiful on the Sur--HIS grounds and he hunted accordingly. Sometimes with a bow, sometimes with magic, and sometimes with his bare hands. When the cold winds came he fashioned himself a fishing rod and took advantage of the streams and the salt water to fish for game. He ate well...storing enough for the days where he would spend the entire day in the tower. From the tower he could see the neighboring village that shared the island with his lands. Perhaps it was an unspoken agreement. Perhaps it was a magical enchantment. The people were so concerned about the sea that they never looked North toward where Stone's dwelled. He recalled a story about ten ancient towns - located in a perfect line 2 miles in between each of them - that no one bothered with because all eyes were on the sea. Everyone recalled the towns when Sorn the Necromancer had raised the dead and invaded the port city. Perhaps one day the town would rise up and come for me. That might be a good battle. Who  would protect the people taking care of his land. Probably. They had never done anyone wrong. Instead Stones climbed the 402 steps daily and watched the world.

Even to the most casual observer Radegast’s face contained a barely contained mask of rage as he half-listened to his comrades. This is not the room I wanted. This is not the library I meant. He suppresses it as best as he can, though the wrong word could set him off like a powder keg.

Radegast finally walks over to Stones and Elby. He stares directly at Stones chest.

“Noienna,” begins Radegast, trying to keep an even temperament, “are any of your words true or are they all twisted?”

It looks odd sometimes, Noienna’s voice coming from Stones’s chest. This time Noienna’s head slowly seeps out from the top of Stones’, giving it a stacked appearance. She looks pissed.“You asked for the library.”

“For the records of Chulme and the history of the Priests.”

“I had no idea who that is.” She still looks peeved. “In these books,” she nods toward the rows, “are the histories of the people who stepped within this temple. If the Chulme’s stepped inside the stories are here.”

Radegast considers for a long, long moment, he walks over to Stones and Elby. “Okay, after we move out this statue I am going to stand here and burn these books one-by-one to find out what I need.” He is staring at the two bookshelves. 500 books in total. More than enough to kill him.

DM Note:

• Let me know what people would like to do

Hedge: Reinforcements

Voss grabbed his brother's arm, yanking Damian hard toward the door. "We only have minutes." Clarissa, holding her new born babe, had a shocked expression on her face. She had worn it since Voss had come into the room with blood covered weapons and a wild look in his eyes. "Hello nephew." He said it to the surprisingly quiet package she held. He must be only what - two, three months old? Definitely a strange introduction to his newest family member.

"He is the rightful ruler." His brother's words pierced the tense silence.

"A dead rightful ruler." Voss said it matter-of-factly. Even growing up Voss had been matter-of-fact in that face of Damian's designs and schemes. Damian pulled his arm away - Voss had two choices, tear the arm out of the socket or let it go. He let it go.

It was instinct that led Voss to grab his brother first. If I had any sense I would have grabbed the babe and the parents would have followed. The opportunity was well past, the sister-in-law Lady Carissa pulled the child tighter to her breast. "I will die with my people." She had a certain regal stateless to her, giving commands as though it was presumed they would be obeyed.

"Die a thousand times raped. In battle men have no control over actions. You. Will. Die." Especially to one so beautiful, especially since the men had been bigger each other since no women were available.  

"Fine." She turned away as she said it. Facing the window where assailants were certainly going to kill her sooner rather than later.  

"Fine." The words were his brother's. He knew his brother always schemed for this type of position. To believe his name would be on the mouth's of bards. "

"Fine." Voss repeated the words as he stepped toward Carissa's back. The point drove through the back of her neck - a blow where no scream for help could escape. With his other hand he reached around, grabbing the child from her. She collapsed at his feet, his hand firmly holding the child. He turned toward Damian. "She made her choice, brother. The child has his own life and death. What are the terms of yours."

Voss held the child while pointing his sword at his brother. "You've lost your damn mind." "Your job is protect your child." Voss's brother stared at him. "So you killed my wife?" The statement sounded ridiculous. The statement WAS ridiculous. I just killed my sister-in-law, Voss realized. His brother continued to stare at him. "She would have gotten you all killed." Voss sounded defensive when he said it. Regretful even. His brother mumbled something. Voss lowered his sword slightly in order to drink the strange stight fully.

Voss lowered his bow slightly in order to drink the strange sight fully. Remsfeld stopped, nearly colliding with Voss. EVERYONE stops. A woman tied to a fountain will do that to a man.

"Krom. What devilry is this? Qwyn. I'm shy with women. You have a way with them. Find out if they live. Why they linger here. And if they have seen the shard we seek."

"Gents, I think I've seen this type of honey trap before. Keep your guards up and cover me." Qwyn hiked up his pants and moved forward. Every sense on edge for something out of place.

Qwyn hiked up his pants. Every sense was on edge for something out place. "The best lies have an ounce of truth. The best traps are not traps at all but lies wrapped in an ounce of truth designed to pull at the most base instructions of man." Qywn nodded in agreement while the rest of the class looked around quizzically. Actually that part was not true. The buffoon Rhaul looked focused for once, more than a glimmer of understanding on his dwarven features. Ethical Philosophy was Qwyn's favorite class. There were no right or wrong answers, only the application of information to any given situation. If your child was starving and you had no money for bread, would you steal? That was the simplest question asked in the class so far. As the only one who ever HAD been starving and attempted to steal Qwyn had surpressed his snicker at those in the class who were too honorable to steal. They spoke of doing chores for food or proving the worth to the baker. When your stomach hurts so much you can no longer think, tell me your answer then. Qwyn continued to focus on his instructor's words. As a former tax agent Instructor Hayes often had an interesting tale or to illustrate his point. Once a small villa, the man had a wife who looked like a horse, six ugly daughters and no sons could not pay his takes. What excuse do you think he gave?" Qwyn's hand shot up. It was the only one. Instructor Hayes gave the slightest indicitaiton to the halfling.

"He had no money to pay his three copper taxes since the dowry's for the daughters were so large."

Instructor Hayes smiled. "Correct, dear Qwyn." There was a pause before the next question. "Have you been with a woman, Qwyn?" Qwyn's mouth opened in surprise. He felt his ears turning red, scarlet creeping up his neck. The rest of the classe snickered at the question. Qwyn shook his head no. The good professor then continued. I will tell you something that will keep more coin in your pocket than any other information. Are you interested, Qwyn. Of course! The scarlet disappeared. Well, Qwyn, all women look the same in the dark, a good whore costs five copper, and a fat ugly woman with a family in danger will work to please you like no other. I saved myself two coppers that day and the man kept his farm."

Voss added, trying to break the tension, "And refrain from slipping her YOUR shard. Ha ha." Voss draws full and aims at her as he steps forward towards the fountain with caution.

Qywn continued moving forward, checking perception. Is she awake? Anything? From ten feet away his keen eyesight lets him know she was indeed breathing. Qwyn moved closer. Not exactly sure what he planned. Only that he planned SOMETHING. Magic? No, I would have sensed it.

"If this is what I fear it is I'd be more worried about it getting loped off at this point." Qywn tried to keep it glib. The fountain itself was about ten feet tall. He would have to climb up cut her loose. Though a few well aimed arrows might get her down too. Though it would drop her into whatever is in the fountain.

Alion thought before speaking. It was his way. It was also a difficult question. "You don' believe in God then?" It was more of a statement than a question as Preacher Maine's pin-like black eyes bored holes through Alion.

"No God would let that happen." Alion glared back as hard as he could. It was the glare of a boy up against the glare of a seasoned man.

"Hah! The lament of the weary." Preacher Maine's laugh was deeper and darker sounding than the coals the dwarves dug out from the earth.

Only two weeks and his man laughs. I will never laugh again. Alion promised it to himself. Only fourteen days since they had fled Bridgewater. The first two days were spent traversing small game trails that ran between the small viallages and ponds that the Preacher knew by the back of his hand. The Preacher promised these were good, honest people who would help them. The Preacher had been correct, though Alion noticed he always lied when he said he was traveling to next when he left the villages. The villages had provided two mules for them, along with enough food for a day.

"I have brought God to these people. God has rewarded me." The statement had started the argument when Alion asked where this God was. "See," Preacher Maine said, "I don't save these people. Honor these people before. They don't save and honor us now. That is how God rewards." Alion had become furious. It sounded like a piss-poor reason for his parents and Tiara's death, along with a piss-poor thought that someone they were to blame. He told Preacher Maine as much. "I can see why you think that. I would have thought that are your age." Preacher Maine added emphasis to "at your age" in the same way his father did when he father would lecture him. Though now his father was dead.

"At what age will I think my family dying is just?"

Preacher Maine's eyes widdened at those words, "Never, boy. It never goes away. When you believe God is completely just then you will recall he is not--just--at--all. If you want to survive in this world take no sides, piss in no one else's pot, compliment every ugly maiden because it is all practice. All practice to make sure it comes out friendly and it will sound friendly. You understand?"

"Yes, make people feel better about themselves like a jester in the court." Alion was not sure where the words came from. Only that they came out.

"Yes. You laugh a the jester. The jester always eats. You don't laugh at the jester the jester dies. It is a much easier way to live than coming home with a cheese wheel to take an arrow in your back. Because the Jester, when ain't no one laughing he knows what he is about to get."

"I still don't believe in God." Alion snapped it off.

"God believes in you though. God doesn't test ANY man. A man tests himself when he reacts to how the world treats him. A man makes those decisions. God, God always listens. When you compliment everyone all the time and it becomes second nature...well then God always takes you at your word when you compliment HIM. That is when you can really help others."

Alion took in the words. "When you fool yourself, you fool everyone, everyone including God." Preacher Maine let a grin reveal his rotting teeth. "See. You have religion inside you. I knew it." Alion continued to think.

Alion continued to think. Can we tell if the fountain holds plain water?  Finally he spoke. "Maybe we should test the waters by throwing some bits of boar in."

Qwyn's eyes widdened. "Alion, you are a genius." Qwyn reached into his bag, returning with a fleshy, sapping fresh piece of plant tree. He quietly droped a piece of boar in the fountain.

It made a nice plopping sound as it met the water.

It made a nice plopping sound. Remsfeld heard his left wrist snap with a pleasant plop a moment before he felt the dull pain. I have had sprains hurt worse than his. He lifted his left arm to defend, his shield tilting at an unusual angle since he could no longer control it. I would take the pain of the sprain if i could control mu shield. He saw his opponents mace would make ot past his defenses easily. He compensated by twisting his body sideways. The mace impacted his shoulder, reverberating through his body and crushing his shoulder. Strange. I never expected to be bludgeoned to death. Remsfeld brought the bloodied short sword into position - he had started the battle with a long sword though who knows where it went. He knew where his helm had gone. The nose protector was currently crushed, digging deep into his nose with the resulting gash forming a fine river of blood. The New England Legion had appeared out of nowhere in the dew covered morning. According to the dwarves the Berkshire Road was free for trade. The New England Legion disagreed. Such were battles born from. Remsfeld was acting as a guardsmen for the shipment of ore - one of four guardsmen when the battle began. Now he stood alone, a pile of New Englanders at his feet. The New Englander smashed Remmy's right wrist, the shockwave traveling up and down his arm. Completely spent Remsfeld dropped his sword, fell to his knees, and awaited death. "You will get no ransom for me." Remmy spit out the words between his moments of spitting out blood. The New Englander - one of twenty or more still remaining - picked up Remmy's short sword. He was a dark man. A man as dark as midnight. Behind him the New Englander's were looting the bodies and reading the ore train to move once more.  "May you survive the night, dwarf." Remmy felt his orbital bone collapse under the chain mail fist before blissful unconsciousness overtook him.

I am blind in one eye. Remsfeld tried to remember. Found he could not and the darkness overtook him. I am blind in one eye. Remsfeld tried to remember. This time he could. I should be dead. With his remaining good eye he glanced about. Heavy worn drapes. An open window. Cool air. A stone ceiling. Definitely not a wood elf. Or fey. Most likely human. He closed his good eye, fatigue overtaking him once more. Remsfeld woke once more. He moved his toes slightly, not looking around this time, instead checking his body for permanent damage. He could move - slightly - though it hurt terribly. Several broken ribs, his face was numb, and his left shoulder was immobile. Tears trickled down his cheek from his good left eye - relief or anguish, he was not certain. He felt the breeze touch his neck. My beard should warm me there. He recalled a slash in the battle where a long sword had trimmed his beard and shaved his neck with the same swipe. He recalled the New Englanders shock when Remmy had slashed HIS throat in return.

The rumbling awoke Remmy again. It was dark. Were those stars? His body slide slid slighty as whatever he was layong on jarred and jerked. Pain shot though his ahoulder. Darkness. Night? Or was he just passing out again? He passed out again.

He was mercifully stationary this time.  His good-eye fluttered open once more, his vision obscured by dried crust floating along his eyeball. He squeezed the one eye tight, hoping to wash away the debris. I am not quite a cripple yet. He pursed his lips slightly - dry and cracked. If whoever has me wanted me dead I would be dead. Water, he said.

"Common? Has my Son gone that far?" The second to last thing he had expected to hear was dwarven; the last was his father's voice.

It was not a full surprise. Everyone was too far on edge to be surprised. Still, the beautiful woman began to melt before Qwyn's very eyes. The transportation with slow, though the tiefling could swear it was instantaneaous. The vines became ropes, ropes she used to hold herself high in the air, looking down at the party. The beautiful woman became a hag. Everyone has been told the child stories of the ugly woman who could defean with but a simple scream.

She opened her mouth to yell. Fully prepared, Voss loosed his knocked arrow at her (28 to hit), the blow sinking deeply into her leg (17 hit points). His second arrow went wide (15 to hit).

At the same time the bushes crashed loudly. Another Arborean. This one larger than all the others. Running up behind the party, swinging a scythe and definitely not pleased. Remsfelt readied himself to engage.

DM note:

• Map later but...Qwyn it at the fountain. Voss is in the back. Next to him is Alion. In front of them is Remmy. There is ten feet between Qwyn and the rest of you

Library: Where are the missing souls?

Stones walked back to the crumbled ruins and examines the books on the shelf, careful not to touch anything, and tries to interpret and mystical symbols or magical patterns.  He draws upon everything he learned from Suresh, hoping to gain some understanding, some insight.  With Suresh at the forefront of his thoughts, he makes a methodical tour of the room, looking for anything that may give him an indication of the book that holds Suresh’s soul…

I have to explain it to this fool again. For the fourth time that day Stones provided information on why the Hudson Army would fail. For the fourth time the Commander shook his head in disgust. "That is opinion, Stones, not fact. We needed this man's army. We need this man."

Stones could not help but growl, "Fact is his men did not respect him. Fact he is going to get his men killed. If not this battle then eventually." A strange thought slipped into Stones's mind and he failed to keep it from escaping his lips. "You are not interested in the truth. Only complaining about everything." Stones found himself digging shit holes for the next week. Better to clean shit that listen to that idiot anymore.

Stones struggles. Quietly you all hear Noienna’s voice. “Let me help you.”

Elby wanders around the first floor collecting his arrows.

It has been so long since I have seen her. I yearn to be with her again. To stare into her sparkling green eyes. To run my fingers through her light brown hair and caress her body. I miss the smell of lavender that filled the room every time she took a bath. The way she would snuggle up to me and whisper her dreams of the future as we drifted to sleep. If only there was some way I could be back with her and not be trapped in Portsmith. I know she wants me to be happy and realizes the only way that can be is if I'm free to come and go at my own choosing. Damn her family for trying to trap there. If only there was a way I could show them that my intentions for Amelia are pure and that I have no desire to hurt her.

Stones continued to pick through the books. Not opening any. He had an idea of what they would do. Noienna’s knowledge helped. Nestled among the books he found a bone scroll case. An index system was what she had described. Patterns in the bindings on the books.

After collecting the arrows from the first floor, Elby climbs a ladder (C13). He walks to where the western bowman was. He collects his arrows and checks the dead body for anything of interest.

Nothing worthwhile. The bow has vanished. The body had liquefied. Actually it was pretty disgusting.

This guy is one ugly fuck. It reminds me of that portrait Mosk showed me in his family’s home. It was next to an uncle of his, Boelles, who once worked with the Chumbe priests. He was a successful trader who had a reputation for twisting the deal to his favor. There was a rumor that he finally pushed his luck too far in a trade with the priests. Shortly after that, he was never seen again.

Radegast continued to gaze into the nothinginess. Caught up in thought. Watching Stones wander across the room searching. Searching. Searching.

The ale was strong. Strong, sweet, and thick enough Radegast could slip a spoon into it and it would stand on end. Geo inspected it with a practiced, skeptical eye, as though the bubbling head would provide insight beyond his bulbous nose. A bulbous nose he skimmed atop the head of the ale like a dragon fly going across the water. Radegast understood the skepticism - it was Geo's recipe he was imitating. As a dwarf Geo’s recipe had been passed down from generation-to-generation on deathbeds, at weddings, when a dwarf became a man. It was a simple bet. Radegast had received a sip of Geo's ale. If he could make the exact same brew Geo would give up half his trade route; if Radegast failed then Geo received half his route. Geo sipped. Geo lost half his route.

Elby goes back down the ladder and rejoins the others. “How can you tell what each book is?” He starts looking at the bindings, hoping to come across something he recognizes. 

“So Noienna, are you saying all these books represent souls taken by the Chumbe priests?”

Maybe I could find the book of Boelles’s soul and set him free. His soul is bound to Portsmith in death, so it should return there. Then Mosk and his family would stop hunting me. Then I could be with Amelia again.

Radegast walks over and joins them. “Let me help.” He is quiet, thoughtful. Intense.

Your combined magical knowledge (26, nice roll) puts it all together as you search the room. Deciphering patterns. Checking the strength of the magic. Making sure to be careful. It takes half an hour but you finally get there.

When Noienna was alive – indeed the statue is of her – the older books were among the Western wall. Three hundred years of knowledge. After so math, looking at a various bindings, and that the legend of Lolo is only twenty years ago then the bookshelves where Radegast and Stones fought the Mind Strike…those are the shelves which would contain the souls of the departed if they are even there. Noienna emphasizes the last part. She also reminds that in order to finally release the souls the statue of her must be transported to the portal.

Portsmouth. The name had never made any sense to Elby. There was neither a port nor a smith to be found. His fiancée Amelia laughed when he asked her the question. "It keeps people away." The usual mirth in her voice was present. Always mirth, never gloom. "An army would look at a map and see no water. He would think what sort of fools name the town such. I am a great commander of an army who will not slaughter fools!" She raised her hand into the air as though hoisting a sword, her voice rising as she turned the final phrase into a proclamation. She then collapsed into a fit of giggles. Elby grasped her playfully around the waist, digging his fingers into her body so she would laugh harder. "All you need is an equally foolish captain to attack." She broke his grasp, slipping away like an eel before spinning with a cat-like grace to be in her feet. "Then they would invade a swamp? What fool falls in love with swamps?" This fool, Elby thought. Though he would have bet she already knew that.

Note:

• Buried on the shelves of the library are two ritual scrolls: a scroll of Raise Dead in a bone tube and a scroll of Consult Mystic Sages wrapped in leather. 
• A small glass vial wrapped inside the Raise Dead scroll holds 500 gp worth of residuum—just enough to perform the ritual once 
• Maybe if you destroy the books you will survive the psychic backlash. Who REALLY knows.

Hedge: A Water Fountain with a Woman

Qwyn found himself wading mid-waste through a pile of shit. He wished he was only speaking metaphorically though in this case it was literal. The moths, bats, and other vermin waste was proof that the books had been undisturbed, save for the destruction brought on by hungry and cold animals. Qwyn tugged at the string holding his pants up. His belt had broken days ago with his improvised attempts at fashioning a suitable replacement failing miserably. His long fingers danced effortlessly across the cracking spines of the books. Some of the books were beyond saving, some were not worthy of saving, though one in particular...Six hours later he smelled as bad as the room looked. To his chest he clasped the jewel encrusted penguin hide bound book. Penguin-hide had been the chosen materials for the Gretzky tribe. The material had done its job well. The oily material had defended the books against the elements themselves; defending against both rain and shit. The book was as good as new. The answers Qwyn sought...it all started here. Yes he had doubted himself at first. Yes he had considred quitting. Yes it had taken him months longer than he expected. But he was here. He was alive. He would not doubt himself again. He hitched his pants up one last time, well worth it to make it this far.

"Does anyone have a spare pair of pants?" Qwyn looked down at the dead Aboreans. Fully intent on doing a quick check of the creatures and then getting moving.

"Wish we had more time. We could've had ourselves a fantastic breakfast." Qwyn then takes out his daggers, planning on getting a small piece of one of the tree dudes. Could make for good crafting material -- a wand or some such.

His dagger sinks into the tree-plant man. The blood, or what would be bloody, is surprisingly syrup-like. The kind of stuff that scares a man like darkness in the night.

Funny, darkness used to scare me. Voss's eyes wandering skyward toward the moonless night. Commander Verbeek gave it the same gravitous one would announce that supper was ready. To a man the legion knew what it meant, We go tonight. The enemy also knew tonight would most likely be an attack too, preparing hot oil to bath the raiders in, double guards on areas into the sewer, double-men along the walls. It was a sick game commanders played with one another. To counter the argument of defender preparedness Voss's commander had argued that the since the siege was going so well and the enemy was starving an attack would not be expected since the enemy would be starved out by winter. Voss and his brothers laughed when they heard THAT.

No commander ever rose to glory with bards singing songs of starving an enemy. Which is how Voss came to find himself trudging waste deep in shit with One brother on each side of him. Voss was not sure which was the most cowardly: starving out an enemy, sneaking into the castle, or climbing through human waste to sneak into the castle. Battle should be fought in open fields, or man to man, wizards were bad enough. Sieges were not honorable. That is why Voss has spent the last five years ranging around the Hudson Valley on his own.  "Hudson, you know this castle is it going to work." Long ago the men in the garrison had taken to calling him Hudson. It was the reason the commander had sent someone to locate Voss in the first place. He was positive know one even knew his last name, which was good as Voss most likely would have ended up as a hostage, as opposed to breaking into the castle, in which case he would end up dead. All because there was a new lord who pledged allegiance to the wrong ally or some equally mundane offense that invariably led to the death of innocents. Voss recalled a saying he had heard around  a fire Old king, old war, same shit. New king, new war, same shit. The biggest problem of this particular battle was that the new lord was Voss's brother-in-law and that his sister and nephew were also trapped in the castle. All which led to a mid-level high pile of shit to be waded through.

Voss replies to Qwyn's query about pants, "You already took my pair."

Voss takes out his dagger, fully planning on resting and healing for the 15 minutes that it would take him to be back at full strength. "Don't suppose any of us is handy with a carving knife?  We could skin the boar and take its hide to cure it later for a new set of pants."

He then dug into his dead opponents flesh.

Remsfeld found himself wading mid-waste through a meadow of flowers. Chest-level high it was the tallest flowers he had ever seen in his life. He squeezed his nose to pinch back of a sneeze. One thought crossed his mind. I would rather be wading through a pile of shit.

Remsfeld took account of his body parts. All there. I wonder how Inara is doing. He pushed her from his mind. Figure out out what needs to be done here and deal with her later.

Qywn slipped a piece of Aborean flesh into his bag. Getting back to work Qwyn begins making a new pair of pants out of leaves and scarps of shredded breeches.

Alion found himself wading mid-waste through a pile of shit. Not a literal pile of shit as that would have been disgusting, even for a farmer boy like himself. The metaphorical pile of shit was how to grow three inches by his sister's wedding so he could dance with the beautiful Tiara. How best to grow three inches while doing the chores was the issue, an issue with no clear answer in sight. He wheeled the barrel of cheese home. It was a hard day of trading at the market, especially for a boy of seven. But wheat for wood and then wood for sheep had led to the acquisition of the cheese. Which was what his mother had wanted. Alion whistled happily, playing out the scenario in his head of three inches growth and Tiara's collapsing into his arms.

He spotted the horses tied to the simple one-story stone house that his Mother jokingly called "the castle." As Bridgewater's largest land owners his family could have certainly built and commanded a larger castle though his Father humbly said the royal decree wasn't worth the piss of ink that made up the letters nor the shits of the men who had granted it years ago. Alion recognized the horses at once.

The Cullen family had a remarkable family crest that they insisted on displaying everywhere. Including a large flag attached to the horses saddle. Alion hurried forward with the cheese. His father would be in a cross mood, his mother moreso and his sister...The Cullen family claimed to have royal blood though they offered no such proof save their Penguin Crested banner. As he approached the door pushing the barrel he caught himself wondering where the red droplets on the cheese came from. It took him a moment to register the arrow sticking through his shoulder, poking out rudely in front of him. The droplets ran down the rough wooden shaft before falling of the cliff that was the steel arrow head. Mother is going to be displeased wad his penultimate thought. It was then that the ground rushed up to meet his face as a stench reached his noise. I shit myself was his final thought.

Alion takes stock of the situation. "I say we break long enough to heal up and proceed.  Weren't we looking for something around here for that talking head? Maybe we should set the woods on fire."

No one replies to the fire question. Maybe Voss asked it earlier. Everything could get so confusing sometimes.

A shard, Alion recalled. Though what it looked like was anyone's guess.

Alion could hear the screams of his sister mixed in with the screams of his mother. His mouth was dry, in desperate need of water to clear the iron taste in his mouth. His shoulder hurt to hell. Somewhere in there a third female cry joined in the chorus of pain from the house.

Tiara...Tiara...Tiara. Certainly her voice was mixed in. Where are my father's body guards? Where are the field workers? Alion regained his feet. Laughably the wheel barrel had remained upright when he let go of it - the sign of a story that would never be finished.

"You were dead." Gruff, weathered hands grabbed Alion's shoulders half-dragging the boy to his feet. Preacher Maine pulled away from the house. Father had insisted on religion for the family and farmers and Preacher Maine with one eye that danced wildly in on direction and a second eye that danced a completely different tempo was the man who led the weekly prayers. Wild hair tied in a thick pony tail, he gave the impression of a man who was more at home in a bar than a place of worship.

"My father." Did Alion ask it or think it? Everything was muddled.

"Dead," muttered Maine. They reached the beginning of a row where some wheat had been planted.

"Mother. She will follow soon. My sister -- "

"Boy don't ask questions where you do not want answers."

"Tiara?" Maine slapped Alion hard across the face.

"I told your father this fool Cullen would come."

Alion recalled the conversation. Long ago his fathers and Cullen had been friends. His sister was promised to Cullens son as long as a dowry was provided. When no dowry could be raised - Cullen claiming the name was enough - his father had put his sisters hand back out for marriage.

Cullen came to claim kings right and blood. Bought off enough guards. This will be his land now. His thoughts were mixing between now, then, and what would be. Alion continued the blind fleeing through the field. Even at a young age he knew that the Cullen's were ruthless and cunning. He did not doubt they were capable of stealing the land and hiding behind their hired bookmen. Where will I go? Fatigue had overwhelmed him though adrenaline pushed him forward.

"Come child. The road. Safer that way." Maine continued to drag Alion forward.

Alion looked back toward the stone house. The wicker room and wooden interior beams...he could not help but notice in the moonless night it looked like a beacon. The flames leaped high into the night, lighting the path ahead.

Fifteen minutes later the party is well rested with pieces of dead flesh packed away. Qwyn's vine tree-branch pants looking like one good movement would reduce them to twings.

Voss takes out his bow, now fully rested and healed explore where the pig came from. He went South for 15 feet diagnol when he saw it. At first he though she was levitating then he understood thin, nearly opaque bonds held her in the air.

A half-naked woman. Brunette. Early-20s. There was some sort of fountain in the room. An active fountain that spurt water through the air in a small arc behind her head. Bound to the fountain by the opaque bind was the woman. She was slumping badly, as though there was no energy to her body. Her mouth was also gagged. The water also runs down her body.

She is about 15 feet away away from the party.

Library: Back from the Dead

The New Hampshire cold was enough to drive some men mad. Three feet of snow had made the roads around the village of Portsmith impassible. Impassible save for the most determined. Even with the deer-laced snow boots providing him ample support to allow him to seemingly walk across the snow the cold crawled into Radegast's bones unabated. The cold plains were the bog-men of Portsmith's first defense against any enemy. That and that the lived in a swamp. The only natural resource of the swamp was the natural gases, long desired for the natural magic properties that gave the people of Portsmith their third most effective defense - powerful magic against an enemy. The second defense was as simple as the cold - five flat miles of terrain as any visitor approached the towering two hills that surrounded the swamp. Four miles away from his destination Radegast found himself face-to-face with the fourth defense: the famed Portsmith rangers. The only human rangers on par with halfling or elf rangers. Radegast nodded a greeting from deep within his many layers of clothing. The only visible part were his slightly rounded half-elf eyes, the shape of a badly formed almond. For the three rangers standing in front of him Radegast was positive there were five other rangers he could not see. The rangers and Radegast stared at each other - no one moving for several long minutes as the cold continued to rake his soul. Radegast was not concerned. He was counting on the fifth defense of Swampscott. Give them whatever is asked. Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour. Each minutes gave war to an hour then several hours. Finally one of the rangers spoke. Radegast could not tell which one as It was difficult to decipher sincen the wind has almost frozen his eyes shut. "Though you are pure of purpose you are broken. You may enter." Radegast followed the rangers to Swampscott - badly scarred, emotionally frail, and a man trapped memories.

Radegast was trapped in his memories as he said nothing. He watched the world unfold blankly before him, his eyes staring at the fire as it danced around the not moving body.

Elby chewed the venison methodically - 23 times exactly, silently singing the halfling alphabet as his mother had taught him as a boy  - the flavored careened around him mouth and tongue, each taste bud fighting for more. Not better than my mother's cooking...just different. He swallowed some more of the pepper, sweet tomatoe rubbed meat. He looked down at the hot plate roasting in the fire - the cubes of venison lay in its own juices, a touch on beer, some pepper, and sweet tomatoes. Okay this is better than my mother's cooking. "Ar ya tryin' ta chew it 'n make tack?" It took Elby thirty seconds to comprehend the words. I feel like I am learning common again. Dougherty of Saugus had a thick, coast-line accent that despite only being a day's ride from Elby's home in Wayland made it sound like this man was from a different universe. Elby hoped to visit there someday. Elby took his knife and speared a piece of venison. Without bothering to let it cool he shoved it into his mouth. This time his taste buds screamed in protest. Elby chewed twice, forced the piece of meat down his throat - choking for a moment - and felt the scorched trail that it had left behind. "Avant!" Dougherty of Saugus laughed as he watched Elby's eyes bulge. "Ya gonna 'ave ta lear' ta take a kid!" It took Elby a minute to understand what the man had said. By that time he had already sworn to chew his food like his mother had instructed.

"A coward. I knew it. Well it figures that bastard would disappear as quickly as he appeared." Elby provides himself a bit of a running monologue as he sniffs the air and notices a scent of smoke. "Fuck not another fire Stones." He turns to where Stones is face down on the ground.

Elby hops off the base of the statue, a slight grimace from the wounds sustained in battle crosses his face. He rushes over to where Stones lies. "Radegast, we need to deal with that fire and heal Stones. I can do either, provided you get rid of that barrier. Which do you want to deal with?" Elby rushes to Stones and is ready to either heal him or douse the fire with his cloak. Move quickly my friend, I don't want a repeat of the Happy Swallow."

Radegast, caught deep in whatever thoughts he had going on gives a wave of his hand the stones drop to the ground, landing on the burning body and extinguishing the fire. Elby wasnot sure where to start - the warrior was badly bruised and had a few cuts, nothing life threatening as far as bleeding out.

Stones swallowed another hot pepper. The insides of his mouth had gone numb first, his tongue was most likely five times it's normal girth, and each pepper caused his throat to constrict a bit more. He ignored the goat milk which would have assuaged the pain. He ignored the hot, fresh bread which would have taken the pain away. The sweat was involuntary - he would have had to be part dragon to not have sweated. Or he would have had to be Suneer. Suneer sat across the table from Stones. Almost all skin, bones, and right angles the young boy - definitely a boy since whenever he spoke he sounded like a girl - the boy's jaw jutted out, almost in defiance, as he chewed another hot pepper.

Suneer did not sweat. It was said that Suneer's people had come across the Atlantic years ago, they must be born in fire, and settled into the area. Sunderland was not an area that cared about who or even what you were, only that you did not ruin anyone else's day. At least that was Stones final analysis after two months disguised as a trader and spying on them. Just once. JUST ONCE I want to beat this guy. Tonight would not be that once.Stones felt the semi-familiar gurgle in his stomach.

Stones felt the semi-familiar gurgle in his stomach. Life. Or alive enough. He called on his inner reserves to bring himself out of the unconscious and into the world once again. He found himself eye-to-eye with the halfling. I've woken up next to uglier.

Another deep breath. He was always a quick healer. Or a smart healer. Smart enough to know when to rest. “Noienna…” Stones mutters aloud, “if I die with you inside of me, I’m sure one of our friends here will cut you free.  There is need to fear such a fate, unless we all perish.  But it seems you are not willing to let that happen, for which we are all gratefull. 

Another breath. More energy. Radegast continued to look distracted, glancing about the room though not venturing anywhere near the bookshelves. His weapon was at the ready in case anything else showed up.

“And I am grateful to you as well Elby, for bringing me back from the brink.  Please allow me to return the favor.” 

Stones attempts to heal the others as best he can. Eventually everyone found themselves completely healthy, though tired and worse for wear.  “Now, about this place….” Turning around the room, Stones soaks in the fact that upon these shelves sit lifetimes and lifetimes of knowledge.  “There must be thousands of souls trapped in here!”  His anger rising at this awareness he becomes the Stones you have grown to know, quick to anger, and dangerously impulsive.  Then something slows him almost immediately and his face becomes a twisted mask of indecision with a tinge of fear.  “How will we find Suresh among all these volumes?  And how to protect them while we search.  That book…” He looks to where the ashes of the burned book were scattered. “That soul…Noeinna, is it gone forever?  Is it…?  My actions…”  Stones balls his fist.

From within Stones's stomach you hear Noienna's now delicate voice. "You FREED the soul by destroying the book. While the knowledge eater's put the soul to some place of limbo...thanks to your flame the sole of Lolo has gone to his or her final destination."

“This is an EVIL place!  We must free these souls, but how?!”  He gazes up, not realizing he has walked over to the statue of Noeinna, and realizes how beautiful she appears, “And you Noeinna...how do we free you?”

"This statue contains a part of my soul. Your other friends will get the other part of the soul. United in front of the portal I will be free." There is a new sweetness to the voice. As though she is close to finding the happiness which she sought.

Stones walked back to the crumbled ruins and examines the books on the shelf, careful not to touch anything, and tries to interpret and mystical symbols or magical patterns.  He draws upon everything he learned from Suresh, hoping to gain some understanding, some insight.  With Suresh at the forefront of his thoughts, he makes a methodical tour of the room, looking for anything that may give him an indication of the book that holds Suresh’s soul…

DM Note:

• I'll figure out hit points via Rob later.
• It will take you about 15 minutes to rest. TO fully search the room it would take about 30 minutes. You can search as part of your rest. Well unless you run into something that thinks you are a meal.

Cull: Fire in the Library

Proximity causes pain. At least that is what Stones finds as his mind is rattled from standing so close to the Mind Strike (5 hit points.) Stones’ armor flares outward at the attack, providing a scalding blow in return to the Mind Strike (10 hit points). Stones’ is confused momentarily by the sudden attack.

The creature takes advantage of the warrior’s temporary confusion to bring a nasty two handed swing toward Stone’s head. If the blow had landed (18 to hit) then the warrior would most likely be gravely injured. Instead he parries the blow, the psychic energy from the scimitar crackling from being so near.

Elby is eager to finish this battle. He is eager to finish this quest and escape these dungeons. These flashes of his past make him yearn for his love.

"Thought I forgot about you? Huh, you bastard?" Elby draws another two arrows, pivots (to I12), and takes a moment to target the eastern Thoughtbow. The twin strikes fly through the air with barely a whisper before slamming into his new prey. (32 to hit, and 19 to hit, and 18 total damage.) "You'll fall before me like the other. Or you can lay down your bow in surrender." 

“You can lay down your bow in surrender.” Elby had not heard his companion approach, though not entire surprising since the human's ranger skills were equal to his own. It made the queasiness of what he was about to witness pass for the briefest of moment. Elby felt sick to his stomach as he looked toward the very nervous horse. The smart horse that seemed to know what was happening. Villages were bad enough, towns were difficult, but these cities were proving to be unbearable! Gelding a horse just because it has horny. Elby kept his thoughts to himself though, as he always did. "That is what will happen to you if you hurt my sister." A different nervousness entered Elby’s body as he forced a laugh out from somewhere deep in his toes. "Oh don't bother denying it. You two look like you're cats in heat. Besides she told me." The human grinned at Elby's shocked expression. "At least you aren't a halfling all over." Elby blushed a deep crimson. He had expected a conversation...someday...with all the suitable dowry and gifts he would be able to afford. This though...this was just embarrassing. The human continued to grin. "Now let us buy this horse before they cut the poor fucker’s balls off."

“Fight me!” Radegast provided a half-dare, half-command to draw the Mind Strike’s attention toward him as he rounded the corner. He slowed down slightly, giving Stones enough time to move.

“Cut the poor fucker’s balls off.” Stones looked at his opponent, suppressed his desire to laugh in the man’s face, and instead kept his face an expressionless mass.If that was toward me this man would be dead. The Commander Lord was loud and his statement laughable thanks to its overflowered presentation. Stones had long ago learned that loud men are not to be feared so much as a silent man. Stones silently moved one of his stones across the Litch board. Five hundred men surrounding a castle, Stones knew. I am a guest of a fool.

The Commander Lord eyed Stones's move appreciatively. Stone’s was far ahead in the game, certain to win. It was then that the flap of the tent opened, an out of breath Knight taking a quick knee. “Hudson has turned traitor and fled with the Lord.” The man gasped the information out between half-breaths in the way that unimportant men had a way of making information overly dramatic for the sake of appearance. Stones took in the information with a keen ear. He knew the Lord in question was the Lord of the currently surrounded castle. He had no inkling of who was Hudson. The Commander Lord - so many people calling themselves Lord, Stones thought - rose in indignation from the table. “He was to be presented to me!” The Lord Commander bellowed the information as though making it louder would make it more reasonable and somehow would suddenly come to be. Once again Stones choked down a laugh.

Instead Stones stood, crossed the tent with two easy steps, and passed the confused Knight. Suresh had instructed Stones to collect information on this man. Arrogant. Consumed with his own glory. Traitors amongst his people. Stones hated these damn lessons. Intrigue where a gelding of the fool Lord Commander would put everyone into line! Ten feet away Stones spoke a few words of magic, his amulet glowed, and less than a heartbeat later he was next to Suresh. Really, Stones thought, this will be his last stand.

This may be my last stand. The thought pops into his head uninvited. Stones is hurting pretty bad. Taking the time to try and heal my wounds would only be undone be another attack, he pushes forward (to J18) to provide Radegast space to attack.

Having unleashed his mightiest blows, Stones summons the flames from his sword –Radegast’s eyes go wide at this - to lend his attack more strength while also marking this foe. Stones provides a scythe-like attack with wicked jabs and small cutting blows the barely (23 to hit) make it past the Mind Strike’s scimitar defense (24 damage).

Several events then happen at once. The Mind Strike’s robe catches fire and part of its robe is torn away while ablaze. It heads toward the books seemingly in slow motion…

…FOOM!

The burning cloth lands on a book causing the book to pitch forward off the shelf as though pushed by an invisible hand. It bursts into flames midway through its tumble toward the floor. As the book burns, it seemingly coming to life, emitting a high-pitch wail that pierces Stones and Radegast’s skulls (4 hit points damage each).

A creature. Who knows if it was a human. An elf. A half-elf. Filled all our lives. It held a Wand of Wonder – the name of the wand coming from the creature itself – I’ve got this! The words were the creatures. The Wand of Wonder unleashed its full fury -- a stream of flowers flying toward an unseen enemy. While at the same time fills the room with lightning bugs. No Lolo No! The fear from other voices in the room was palatable. The humanoid creature, most likely Lolo smiled. In his mind he had once again saved the day.

The memory of the creature faded from existence as the book is fully consumed by the flames. It took maybe two seconds total from start to finish.

The other event is that Radegast reaches a spot next to Stones. Instantly spotting the danger of an on-fire foe next to flammable materials he swings his weapon toward the Mind Strike (32 to hit) drilling it in the chest (15 hit points). The Mind Strike finds itself fleeing Radegast – and with nowhere to go it backs straight into the Living Fortress of rocks and scree that Radegast had previously created (32 to hit). The Mind Strike is pummeled by the debris (35 damage) before collapsing to the ground.

Though the Mind Strike is still on fire, dangerously close to the books, and now being hit with rocks and scree. Its face is still placid.

Its face is still placid. The turtle poked its head from it shell long enough to give Radegast a disinterested, placid look. Radegast did not take it personally, no more so than he would take it if a fly landed on his arm. As the sun dropped lower and day gave way to night he could barely see the turtle in the pond. I am too much of a coward to do this in full light, he thought to himself. The turtle continued to give a disinterested look opening its mouth to register its silent complaint. “I apologize, my shelled friend.” The sound of his own voice confused Radegast. Hoarse, almost unrecognizable even to himself, the simple apology was an unit ended offering into world. The turtle continues to stare, its mouth no longer agape though equally impassive. Two months? Three? Is that how long since he had woken up more dead than alive. He looked down at the scars covering his hands. His wife had always laughed that the only work his hands had ever known was unlacing her bodice. He forced the image from his mind, guilt not allowing even the hint of a pleasant memory. The scars tell the tale, he once heard that in a bar. The scars on his hands were the ending of the tale of a happily married man. A man who made tasteful brews that even lords and ladies loved. The tale of a man who lost everything. He stared at his remaining cask - the only cask he had brought back from the Lord's wedding. “Celebrate with your loved ones,” the Lord had said. So Radegast had taken it home to hell. He picked it up. Effortlessly, lightly, it was not even a full cask. He felt the stretching of the scar tissue on his hands, the tightness in his neck and back from where his shirt had been burned away. The darkness hid the opportunity of reflection - he was certain his face was badly burned, he could feel the flesh fall away sometimes, he could even smell it. He did not need to see what he had become because he already knew what had become. The cask was his last bit of happiness...of his old life. The turtle continued to stare upward at Radegast before it pulled its head into its shell, becoming completely one with its environment.  Radegast blinked away tears - he had no idea he had started to cry. He lowered the cask. “This is not the story of the end.” The words were aloud, less hoarse, far clearer. “This is a story of death.”

This is a story of death. Where the words came from who knows. It was Stones last thought as unconsciousness overtook him. The psychic arrow from the Thoughbow – he never saw the blow coming (33 to hit). The psychic attack, finally it was too much for his mind (25 damage) and he feel face first next to the bookshelves.

The Thoughtbow gave one final pause, looking in the direction of where it had hit the warrior. It then disappeared into the wall.

From deep within Stones' chest there was a plaintive cry. "Please don't leave me in here!" The sound of Noienna.

DM Note:

·         Okay Rob is at zero hit points. I presume either Elby or Radegast will be able to get him to positive hit points, so Rob make your move as though you are at positive hit points.