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Daelin attacked the side of the wood elves, Dorrin clinging desparately to his back. To Dorrin, Daelins fighting style was like that of a flame, his sword flickering in a graceful dance. Daelin spun and sliced a head off an elf as Naran smashed an elf body into a tree. A single elf stood next to a man, folding a harp. The man began to strum the crimson strings of the harp. Nar and Daelin were thrown back, Dorrin managed to leap from Daelins back, rolling into the undergrowth. Naran was harmlessly pinned to a tree, as Jace advanced on Daelin. The beauty of notes, seared into Daelins soul. Burning him in immense pain.

Dorrin leapt from behind a tree and pulled the harp from Jaces hand with telecnetic energy. Jace gave gave a yelp as the harp shattered. "Kill the Tiefling Darrielle!" but he heard no bow being drawn back, he turned to find Darrielle, pinned to a tree with a knife in her throat. He drew his own slender sword and and charged Daelin, tears in hius eyes. Daelin stood and drew his sword weakly. The harp had weakened him immensely and he could still the humming in his ears. Naran stood by, he had no love for the Tiefling, and would gladly see him die. Daelin weakly parried but Jace attacked again and again. Daelin was beaten to his knees, but just as the killing blow would have come, a thought came to him, I'm not going to die in a forest by some woman featured bard. With a cry he parried the would be killing blow, and attacked visciously. Jace, a skilled swordsman, was troubled to defend himself, and he let out a cry as a cut opened in his leg. At that moment Daelin slashed his tongue, blood treakled out his mouth and he dropped to the ground, holding his tongue. Daelin stood over him, but he did not kill him, for that was what Jace wanted. Daelin turned away and pulled Dorrin onto his back, he caught a glimpse of Naran, he saw a new light in his eyes.

Jace knelt through the night, no longer would the liquid notes pass over the valley. Drawing a knife Jace slashed the blade across his wrists. As he watched the rise, he thought of its beauty. Then closed his eyes, and died.

 

They walked the rest of the night. The large orc leading with his smell and warrior senses detecting dangers, little Dorin in the middle roaming with his mind, and the tiefling swordsman keeping guard in the rear, lost in his own thoughts.

Daelin had been feeling strange as of late. Now and again he rubbed his hand over his chest as if there were pain in his heart. But, it wasn't quite pain, thought the tiefling. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, it seemed the whole world was fading away from him. The rustling of branches, the faint chirping crickets, the flapping wings of night birds, even his own steps on the forest floor went silent. There was only the beating of his own heart, almost painfully loud in his ears.

After a few moments, the rhytm of his heart seemed to alter. At first so subtly he thought he was mistaken. But gradually the beats were subverted into something else. His heart no longer no longer seemed to thump but...pluck. Almost as if his heart were composed of strings. Almost as if they were playing a tune.

With a deep shudder he had opened his eyes to banish the mad thoughts away. But after that moment, he could never even so much as blink without the constant thought of strings intruding. Now, even with eyes wide open, it was if he could feel his heart being plucked like an instrument. And the tune seemed sickeningly familiar. With a shake of his head he shoved aside such thoughts. But it had shaken him nonetheless, the mere suggestion of those haunting tunes.

Dorin and Naran had not failed to notice this, but if they were concerned they did not speak it. Eluding any more elves had become their main priority. Speed and stealth became a neccesity. Even if Daelin had wanted to stop, he figured the orc would find it as good an excuse as any to dispose of him right there and then. It did not help matters much that Naran had a good reason to want him dead. It was only out of loyalty to Dorin that the orc had not pressed matters to a conclusion as of yet. Even as he thought of Naran, he absentmindedly scratched the side of head. He bit back a cry as he was sharply reminded of the splinters still there, a gift from the orc for slicing his bowstring. Daelin glanced at the little leader of their group and pressed a hand against his heart once more.

Dorin was thinking the events of the day through for the third time this night. Naran was the last of his original companions and the orc would see his charge through. Once at the port city, it was likely the big warrior would attempt to settle certain matters with the tiefling. One or the other would die then. He would have to figure something out before that. While the loss of Kayel and Terak was grievious, Dorin was practical enough to realize the tiefling's use.

All that remained was determining what Daelin's purpose was. He had intruded in the fight for seemingly no reason and killed on both sides before meeting the little one. Dorin shook his head. If he kept up this more or less innocent and carefree guise of his, perhaps it would loosen Daelin up into answering some questions. If the tiefling didn't die of some heart condition, Dorin thought grimly. He had already formed the conclusion that the strange musical attack had a connection in this...but what?

Naran in the meanwhile kept a sharp lookout, but dwelled in his own thoughts. Mostly of a large mug of beer and some roast mutton. He was looking forward to the city. There he could properly toast his fallen comrades and get drunk. As honor demanded of course. But not before buying a sturdy axe. Some of these puny elf weapons he had collected could be traded a for a good midsized battle axe he supposed.

He would kill the tiefling too as long as Dorin didn't mind. It was no sure thing of course, Daelin had some skill with the blade and plenty of experience. Then again, Naran had more than enough confidence in his own prowess, even barehanded. It would have been a more or less even matchup except the tiefling suddenly looked weaker. Naran glanced back and noticed a pasty whiteness had crept up on Daelin's face. If the orc felt any guilt in killing a weakened enemy, he got rid of it by remembering that Terak was similiarly handicapped by the elves when Daelin killed him.

And so the night passed.

 

(I have to thank everyone who contributed, this has really been a success. For a while I thought that it was burning out but someone then brings a fresh bit to jerk it back into the upper part of exciting. Thanks. Our story is getting good.)
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The guards at the gate didn't ask any questions of the strange group. Valley Death was an outlaw town by every definition of the term. It lied in the woods where no country had any real claim, and it had no major trade road up to the gate. It was on the Eastern bank of a large tributary river so it was still able to smuggle more supplies than any of the major cities for hundreds of miles. Valley Death was a veritable melting spot of every kind of scum, filth, wretch, and criminal in the Realms.

It was policed and owned by a huge faction of Fallen Paladins. The lord Sedrik Bone, who was rumored to have slaughtered his own adventuring party and all of the people who had employed them after he had killed his wife while under the effects of a charm spell, was a very effective law-keeper. As the city was virtually lawless, the various riff-raff got along fairly well.

Naran led Daelin and Dorin to a particularly rowdy tavern near the river docks. The sign was hanging by its corner and had at one time read: "The Shifty Orc." As Naran opened the door a large body was thrown through the window to the left and the sounds of several brawls could be heard within.

Dorin wrinkled his nose at his blade's choice of watering hole. Daelin was hardly surprised to find the average patron of this bar to have at least a little orcish blood in them. Several heavily muscled half-orc barmaids in scant outfits carried around mugs of a particulary foul smelling mood.

Naran strode right past the many scuffles, even pausing to put his fist in an ugly human's face, and up to the bar. All right first I mug and grub, then I leave the Tiefling here to get his weak heart tore from his body while I find a good weapon shop to pawn this elf tripe and find a hefty bow and axe.

Daelin muscled his way next to Naran at the bar and looked pale-faced to him. Naran made a particularly foreboding smile at him when the barkeep, a rather thick-necked Half-dwarf stopped to take their orders.

 

"Orcish Fire" said Naran, he glanced at Daelin beside him

"Water," his voice was almost a whisper and the barkeep had to ask him twice.

"If you want water," said the barkeep, "theres some perfectly good puddles outside." Daelin gave a weak smile, before grabbing the barkeeps shirt, and drawing the half dwarf to him,

"please," the barkeep flinched at the 'politeness'.

Daelin collapsed in a chair next to Dorrin. "i need help, Dorrin." said Daelin "I can feel the harp's tune inside me. Its eating at me, you must draw it out."

"I can try," he said as Naran appeared at the table. He dropped Daelins jug, purposely trying to soak Daelin. But Daelins hand shot up and grabbed the jug. Despite being severly weakened, he was not useless. He heard Naran swear, before he downed his mug and refilled it.

Dorrin sat and watched the pair. Narans pure strength made up for his speed, even though he was fast for an orc. Daelin relied on his speed and skill. The two would have been perfect battle brothers, if it was not for the hatred, and Daelins dying. He had noticed it now, he was even paler now, and his eyes were half way shut. "I will be back in a moment," said Naran, he got up from the table and walked away. Daelin watched him go.

Naran walked out of the tavern, to a band of men and half orcs he had seen as they entered. "Theres a man inside insulting you,"

"Who in the nine hells are you?" said one of the men.

"Hes sitting at a table with a small creature, it looks like a goblin. The man wears a black mask."

"Who are you?" the man asked again. Naran struck him in the face so hard that he flew into the tavern wall.

"No one makes fun of us, eh lads," said a large half orc. A small cheer came from the party and they barged into the tavern. Naran chuckled and relieved himself agaiinst a tied up dog.

"There he is" cried the half orc, pointing at Daelin. They marched over to him. Dorrin started the sleep spell, but Daelin shook his head. The half orc slammed his fist on the table and Daelin stood up.

"Yes?" said Daelin, his voice still weak. The half orc cried and lashed out, Daelin ducked as the party rushed in. He came out with a rising upper cut which landed sqaurely on the half orcs chin, the half orc sailed off his feet and landed on a nearby table. Daelin scooped up a water jug and smashed it against one of the parties head. Daelin was hit hard in the face and he fell back, he recieved several more before he collapsed. He felt kicking feet, and then the world fading from him. Daelin cried out and took one mans legs. The man fell onto Daelin, and Daelin let him land on his feet. He pushed the man off with enough power to knock over the man behind Daelin. In the same move Daelin rolled back to his feet and delivered a flying kick into his nearest assailent. The last two of the party backed away, but Daelin advaned, knocking both men to the ground with a spinning kick. Daelin collapsed down to his table, Dorrin staring at him. Dorrin decided he would keep Daelin alive....

 

In an instant, the figure clad in black robes appeared next to the collapsed tiefling and smiled at the orcs.

"I guess you can't see the invisible. You are most interesting, now i must take my leave ..."

The figure mutters some more words and a dimension door opens beside hime

"...with your friend"

The figure then hoists Daelin onto his back with amazing speed and strength and half steps into the portal before turning again

"I guess I can be strong and quick too ... with the aid of magic"

The figure then turns and dissapears into the portal with the teifling on his back... The portal then closes and leaves a wisp of smoke. On the floor is a note. It read...

I am impressed with you too. You are obviously a cut above the rest. But obviously not two cuts. If you want your friend, then make for the densest of the elven woods. Meanwhile, i shall heal and look after your friend.

 

The huge orc yawned carelessly as the man in front of the counter attempted to appraise his weapons.

"I'll nay give ye 50 cutters let alone 500 ye bastard orc!" the brawny man exclaimed.

Naran merely stared, his narrow yellow eyes unblinking. He was a little drunk.

"Did ye hear me ye-"

The door to the weapon shop burst open to let in a small cloaked figure.
"Naran, did you get an axe yet?" it asked.
The orc warrior shrugged and pointed his chin at the flustered seller. Dorin sighed and searched within his cloak, producing 3 small pouches heavy with coin. "Here you go, sir. Let my friend here have the pick of your selection." he added in a polite tone.

The man snatched all three up in the blink of an eye, opened them, and peered into the contents. Grudgingly he nodded his head. "It looks good. Ye can go ahead, orc."

Naran took a half moon steel axe with a mithral lined edge. It had a steel and wood plated rod. It was strong, but at the same time let him afford a good grip. The two unlikely companions went out and ducked into a narrow alleyway. It was not quite empty as they stepped over one or two huddling figures, but in this town it was the closest they would get to privacy.
Dorin rubbed his hands and gathered his cloak about tighter to ward off the early morning chill. The sun was peeking out over the horizon and the sky gradually grew brighter.

"Well," said the little one, "It appears to be a success." He lowered his voice lest any undesirables heard. "An unfortunate thing to do, but I'm sure Daelin will be alright."

"You know where of course" replied the gravelly whisper of the orc. He was still a bit groggy but appeared to be recovering. Dorin noticed that he seemed a bit sullen.

"Come Naran, are you still upset?"

Naran snorted softly. "...wanted to fight that one myself. It was...dishonorable to use others."

"I trust you Naran," Dorin sighed. "But in your current condition you would have 'forgotten' my instructions and tried to kill Daelin anyway. Besides, he handled himself well enough, right? And we really needed that extra cash off those hooligans as loathe as I am to admit it. I've reached my decision, we need him alive."

The huge orc spat on an unconscious figure nearby. "I expected as much." he said, not bothering to conceal his disgust. Dorin, in his seemingly all knowing awareness, had detected an outside presence in the green elf woods while they were in battle. A magician of some sort, perhaps a wizard. In his infinite curiosity, and partly to make sure no one was after him, Dorin tried to figure out the sorceror's intent. As hard as it was, he had to use Daelin as bait. His tiefling heritage combined with his strange affliction would make him a point of interest to this magic user.

After silently setting a homing spell on Daelin, the little one had asked Naran to involve the tiefling in a fight. He was sure the the vulnerability of the tiefling would be an irresistible lure to the wizard. If the tiefling was indeed the target. He had been right, but there had been no need for the homing spell.

"He even left us a note." remarked Dorin, unwrapping the paper and handing it to Naran.

The orc glanced at it and handed it back. He shrugged his massive shoulders. "More Wizards 'wit'" he growled.

"Well, we'll have to delay our sailing expedition and get Daelin back." Dorin said. "At least we know he's not interested in me personally. Naran, you have some allies here, correct? Between that wizard and those wood elves I doubt our return to the woods will be peaceful."

The orc grunted noncommitedly. "I'll see what I can do. Meet at the gates in one hour."
He moved swiftly to find some members for the excursion.

 

"Looka 'ere! If it i'n't the uglie't orc o' the Realms in me own 'ome!" the retired assassin was definetly past his prime and beyond the skills of his younger days. Naran snorted in distaste as the graying man pushed more greasy pork and brandy into his expanding waistline.

"I need to find Karog and Gree. I need their skills for an... expedition." explained Naran hesitantly. He wished that his orcish constitution hadn't sobered him so quickly.

"Weel now! Wot d'ye thinks Ah'll help ye fer? Flinner the Skinner still don't work for free." as a deal came closer to being made the bleary-eyed man soon became a quick-witted tradesman and would take Naran for all he had.

The screech as the steel of the dagger pinned the wrinkled hand to the large turkey leg it had been holding was cut off as a second dagger skimmed Flinner's ear and a razor sharp axe blade was drawn to his neck. "Karog and Gree. Now." drool spilled out of Naran's mouth onto the aging man's face as he cried in pain and terror.

"They were killed by the Tin-cans! That's all I know! Lord Sedrik has them hanging from the walls by now!" Naran growled with hatred at the name Flinner spouted and the slander of his "police force."

"Are any of the DragonSpear clan left in this pis-hole?" Naran's voice was extra gravelly and very soft.

"Only you and the ward-child! The elf they took in, Darielle! She came back to town a few nights ago, staying at the Fire Willow! Don't kill me!" the desperate man begged. Naran's ears were deaf to his cries as the fine blade sliced off the man's head and it rolled across the floor to stop with a satisfying thud against the hearth.

Naran drank the rest of the brandy in a gulp and cursed. "That traitorous elf-b*tch! I told the fellows not to keep her!" His face split with an ugly smile, "Ah, but the exotic fruit tastes so much sweeter."

Naran left the small house and headed toward the center of the elvish community to find Darielle and the Fire Willow.

 

Daelin's eyes open slowly and immediately, a thresh of pain hits him. He grimaces and opens his eyes to find a siloutte in front of a setting sun. Wondering who the siloutte is he calls out

"W-Who are you? Where am I?"

"Calm down, you are safe, for now...I am saved you from a peril and am taking you to safety to recupperate your strength" came the reply

Daelin obeys the voice and sits up slowly and looks into a hooded face with hazel eyes. Everything about the stranger is clad in a black robe.

"I've seen you before ... but i cannot remember when..."

"Yes, you saw me before, when you were being held captive but a day or so ago..."

"How am I to be here?"

"Lets just say for now that I intervened in your brawl... now, eat and drink this, we have a bit of a journey ahead..."

The figure hands Daelin a small package with a drinking flask which he takes and consumes. After several minutes, he looks back at the figure

"Where are we going? And who are you?"

"We are going to a place where we shall be shown hospitality... As for my name, I am Quilton, or Qu for short as most of my associates call me. Anyway, while you were sleeping i took the liberty to scan you and have found a magical homing spell placed upon you, so we can expect your captives to return soon... hence, we must make haste. I do not have the power at this moment in time to rid this spell but i know where. Now just hold on one minute..."

Quilton stands up and mutters a few words while moving his arms in a conjuring fashion. Within a few seconds, Daelin felt free from encumbrance and movement become swifter. He looked at Quilton in delight

"Now follow me Daelin, we must proceed with haste"

And into the distance they sped...

 

The sun was rising and dissipating most of the morning chill. A few clouds soared above the soft blue sky. It was a good day for anyone but a denizen of the squalid city Naran moved through. Here the stink of chamber pots, cheap booze, and tabac smoke wafted everywhere. Unflinchingly, the sensitive nosed orc waded through the just emerging crowds. He stopped in front of a ramshackle Inn with a broken sign picturing a burning tree. The Fire Willow. Or rather, the "official" Fire Willow. What the orc sought was not here exactly.

He moved to the side of the building and down a narrow alleyway. The ground sloped down ever so imperceptibly to the left on the Inn's side. Naran kept to that direction for a little while and stopped at a particulary dark gap in the wall. Hesitating only slightly, he shoved himself inside. After squeezing his way through, the orc found himself in a wider space but in pitch black darkness. The slight whistle of air close to his ear sent the large orc into a crouch. Instinctively, he lurched into a forward roll just as something cut the cloth on the small of his back. Naran crouched again and in one smooth movement drew his his axe, thrusting the handle behind his back.

Sparks flew as steel handle met steel dagger. With the flick of a wrist, the battle hardened orc almost casually swung the axe up to cover the back of his head. It was just in the nick of time to block another stab that came less than a second after the last. In such a fashion, often with as many as four stabs blocked in the span of a second, Naran battled his invisible adversary. Only the sound of metal and rough breathing could be heard. The only light was the spark of the weapons and the dull glow of blue mithral. Naran twisted the axe around and spun it in an arc as he leaped backwards to avoid another swift cut. With a lunge, the orc swung down and midway through changed directions to the left. He caught the unseen blade with the tip of his axe as it tried to slash at his temple. With a wrench of his powerful arms, the orc sent the dagger clattering on the floor.

"Hail and well met, Master Orc." came a rough voice from behind.

"Mez...", Naran rumbled as he turned around. "You're getting sloppy."

"Don't get so boastful, Naran.", a torch flared up to reveal a slightly small man dressed in black. Black lines were tattooed into his face in intricate designs and over his shaved scalps. He did not look young or old and his expression showed him to be a man who smiled very rarely.
"I was going easy on you."

Naran shrugged and smirked. "Would you care to try that in daylight?"

An amused snort was the rogue's only response. He gestured the orc to follow. They went through a few more gaps in the assorted walls of this strange alleyway. Not long after, they arrived at a worm eaten door, rotting on its hinges. There was a faded painting of a tree on fire plastered upon the wood. The rogue known as Mez knocked twice, paused, and knocked three times. The door opened to let in the human and orc.

The "unofficial" Fire Willow Inn was a remarkable place. Lush carpet was spread on the floor, wood panelled walls hung tapestries and paintings of historic times, and a pleasant smelling incense wafted through the air. The numerous lamps gave a soft glow and merry music lent an ambience into the Inn. Here and there among the small round tables one might see a wizard smoking a pipe full of tabac as he contemplated upon some obscure scroll. Or perhaps a hardy Elvish Ranger in hushed talk with a concerned halfling. These weren't the usual ruffians who populated the city in general, although there were some rough sorts around. Huge men, possibly half-giants, kept an easy watch to make sure there were no trouble makers and sly rogues like Mez roamed the alleys around the Inn to keep any unwanted sorts out. Or in Naran's case, to test old patrons who have been away for a while.

Naran reluctantly handed his weapons over to Mez. It was policy for all patrons.

"I'll join you in a minute, orc", said the rough voiced rogue. "Keep your blasted hands to yourself as well. There ain't any fighting here."

Naran gave him a fierce glare. "You forget who you're talking to, assassin."

Mez met the glare with one of own. "You're a bloody handed orc who I just happen to call a friend."

The orc barked out a hearty laugh and slammed one massive hand onto the man's shoulders, nearly knocking him down. "Well said my brother-in-arms. On my honor, I will not fight here. On my honor."

The man nodded and left to put the axe away. Naran gave a quick sweep of the Inn before sitting in a shadowed corner. In a few moments, he was joined by a cloaked and hooded figure. They sat staring at each other until finally, the cloaked figure removed its cowl. A slender elven face revealed itself to the soft light of the Inn. Lustrous blond hair hung about her face. Naran noticed a small cut on her neck.

"Stoneskin." Daerelle said, answering his question. "Can even stop a knife in the throat, just barely anyway." She grinned and gestured for two glasses of ale.

The orc grimaced. She was too clever by half. It was going to be a pain dealing with her. He sat glowering at her, and she sat grinning impudently until Mez arrived with two other people...

 

"Naran meet Karvel, an exceptional tracker. Been working as a bounty hunter until he got a price put on his own head." Mez pointed to a lanky man carrying a long black spear and a thick mustache and goatee. Karvel looked to the orc with an almost lazy expression on his face, his dark eyes peered alertly from his deep sockets however creatintg an unsettling effect.

"Irony incarnate," Karvel said lifting his mug and downing its contents easily, in toast to his predicament.

Naran raised his brow quizically at Mez and Darelle. "Quite trustworthy I assure you," Mez said in reply. "And this is Hyman, a......" Mez stopped and seemed to be trying to classify the tall man.

"A Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, errr... formerly." He was not overly impressive when considered as a fighter, but he had a large sack that clanged as the armor inside it rattled against itself. He had a tangled mess of graying brown hair and rather lackluster brown eyes. "I was discharged for 'unruly conduct' but I still retained my powers of healing and am not at all concerned with the fact that you stink of foul deeds done and doing."

"Unruly conduct?" Naran knew he didn't like paladins, but knew he wanted this man's heavy armor taking the brunt of damage in combat.

"I unlike many of my former colleagues did not choose to judge people for their deeds. "Leave them to theirs whilst I undertake mine own" as I would say. I was judged on that and it was decided that I was not Torm material or what-have-you. I am also honor-bound to this ungainly assassin." He indicated Mez.

"Come along we leave tonight." Naran got up to leave. Mez and everyone else looked up at him in puzzlement. "My task is urgent and if you will not come I am 'honor-bound' to tear out your throats." Naran growled this statement out and was surprised to see all four people get up to follow him. His task was complete. Off to find the filthy Tiefling, he mused to himself.

 

Filthy Teifling indeed, I'll have you know he bathes regularily. sorry

****************

Daelin ran constantly, his breathing had not deepened at all. Not a bead of sweat had appeared on his forehead, and he smiled. He had taken a liking to the wizard. He was completely trusting letting Daelin carry his weapons, up ahead he saw the treeline of a forest...

 

The day has now died and the night is starting to brim with life. It is at this point that a human and a tiefling reach the edge of an ancient forest.

"Stop here" calls out Quilton as he and Daelin hit the edge. "I must ensure our hospitality..."

Quilton then goes off into what seems like a trance, muttering words unkown and moving his arms and legs in a co-ordinated fashion. After muttering the last syllabel, a bright green light engulfs Daelin and Quilton. Both of them feel released of weariness and their strength recupperated. Quilton looks at Daelin and smiles

"We may enter now with no worry of harm, now lets go"

The duo then dissapear into the forest protected by a faint green light from all that would harm them with evil intentions...

 

The odd party was off at a fast pace set by none other than the small extra-planar mind-magician leading them. The expert tracker and bounty hunter, Karvel, found himself out of a job and felt his position with the group weaken as his services were not explicitly needed. His left eyebrow began to twitch as he felt the gaze of Hyman on his back. Karvel's thoughts wandered to how he became paired with the troublesome knight.

It had been a clear morning, aside from the clouds to the east, a steady breeze was certainly blowing those in fast. Karvel had heard the sounds of battle and a clear voice ringing above the sound, it was a human singing, slightly off-key but clear nonetheless.

"So come ye, O knight of lies and look upon your death, For I, Jace, The bandit king, can kill you with my breath!" The distinct smell of a cloudkill spell bore down upon the tracker, using his own immunity (provided by a ring he borrowed from a halfling.) Karvel charged right into the sickly-sweet purple smoke and found a stout man sputtering and coughing, but still hacking at his enemies, on an impulse Karvel grabbed the man and jogged him neatly out of the cloud. Soon after he heard the sounds of the bard's rage pealing through the woods. A quick run and the tracker had led the man to the Valley Death walls. The man had quickly pledged himself to Karvel's service and followed him unerringly for nearly a week. Finally Karvel had taken the shiny-armored knight into the town were flash was less of a liability than the woods.

Karvel's reverie was cut short when an iron grip fastened to his shoulder and pushed. The orc's hot breath filled his nostrils, Karvel felt faint. "Keep up, I thought you were good at this stalker." growled the brutish orc.

Karvel narrowed his eyes imperceptably and eyed the tiny cloaked figure waiting patiently to resume the chase. He felt he place in the group weaken by the second and soon he felt he had to do something to fix it. A devious plan etched itself into the inner walls of his mind.

 

Several hours later, Quilton and Daelin reach what seems to be a deserted glade, yet they can hear whisperings all around them. All of a sudden a shout is called out

"Halt! Identify yourselves or be cut down here and now!"

Majikus steps forward and calls back

"Be at peace friends, It is I, Quilton. I have with me, a friend that requires healing and he was the captive of those Orcs that slain your folk a fair day or so ago. He is cursed with a homing spell and I fear that they shall come after him, with greater force that may cause fatalities amongst yourselves and the beautiful forest."

A few more mumurings are heard when mystical words are heard. A moment later, Quilton and Daelin glow a bright blue, for but a moment...

"He tells the truth and they are of good it seems"

Right before Daelin's and Quilton's eyes, several figures appear 10 feet away from them. A look of disbelief crawls over Daelin's face. Quilton looks almost bored.

"Thats a new one" grins Majikus

Another figure clad in green robes steps forward and gives Quilton a hearty clap and the back.

"Haha! Yes, I'm training one of my apprentices up for such encounters. Quite neat eh?"

"It is amusing and very good for an apprentice. I am sure it will aid your people in times of need"

"Yes it will, I just hope that such a time will not happen... anyway, is this the captive?"

"Yes and he does require a removal spell of this homing device which is leading the Orcs here"

"Ah i see that is grave indeed ... who are you ... er... tiefling?"

Daelin steps forward and announces
"I am Daelin kind sir. I assure you that I will be of no trouble"

"I trust you Daelin. I am 'Tangle Leaf' But know, lets go forth back to our abode and cure your ailment."

With that, Quilton, Daelin, Tangle Leaf and the rest of the Wood Elves dissapear into the forest...

 

Daelin lay back on a wooden table. An elf in green robes stood over him. "Sleep," said the elf, placing a hand on Daelins brow. Daelin immediately fell into a deep sleep.
The elf closed his eyes and held his palm over the sleeping Tiefling and began to chant...

 

The tiefling's eyes bulged wide open. A nagging suspicion, some left over sixth sense tore him away from the realm of dreams. It seemed as though a veil had been lifted from his thoughts. A cold realization had struck him as he stared at the green robed elf called Tangle Leaf. The magician was not healing him, but imprisoning him! With every ounce of strength left in him, Daelin aimed a vicious kick to the elf's midsection. To his growing horror, it was already too late for even that. His whole torso was numbed, all nerves seemingly shut off. He could breathe, he could blink, but no more than that. He could not even feel the wood slab he lay on. Treachery!

"What in the nine hells are you doing!?" cried the wizard who had brought Daelin. "He is in my trust!"

The elvish sorceror did not so much as bat a green eyelash. In fact, his entire head of hair, an unruly curly shock, was as green as his robes. Almost they looked more like grass than hair. Indeed, there were even a few leaves tangled up within, thus his appropriate name. It would have looked nothing short of ridiculous on anyone else, but the green elf known as Tangle Leaf was a potent earth wizard and he carried himself confidently. There was an air of power around him, power given by the very soil and he looked nothing short of wise and all knowing. He was as young as dew on grass in the early morning, yet old as the great oaks of the woods. He turned his lean and handsome, if somewhat dusty, face away from the Tiefling and gestured to another elf nearby.

Another Elven healer took over and went on putting the finishing touches on the restraining spell while Tangle Leaf went to Quilton.

A tall elvish guard (tall for a green elf that is) shook his head in exasperation at Quilton. "Wizard, you are a fool sometimes." he muttered. "This tiefling rescued the orc and slew our own people. I'm beginning to doubt you are a wizard at all."

Quilton gave a questioning look at Tangle Leaf. The green robed magician nodded. "It is the truth, and furthermore he slew the thief, Jace, and broke the Crimson Strings while it was still being played."

"That would explain his current affliction." said the elf healer who had taken over from Tangle Leaf. "The curse of the heart strings. I've examined it in detail. This enchantment requires something far more serious than a healer...if we intend to heal him at all. The homing spell has been removed at the very least."

Quilton shook his head. "But...I led him all the way here. Even when he saw the elves he didn't panic or show any other sign of guilt...and he didn't protest when I said he was a captive of the orc..."

Tangle Leaf gripped him on the shoulder, not ungently. "One of my apprentices managed to cast a Haze Mind spell before he was slain. It did not activate until he re-entered these woods. I am not all together sure why this is, but that is how it happened. Otherwise, rest assured he would have resisted."

"Listen to what you're saying!" the black robed mage shouted. His normally reserved face grew red and ruddy, his jaws muscles bulging out from his cheeks. "I promise this man some relief from his afflictions, I tell him there's no danger-"

He went silent as Tangle Leaf held up a hand. The green robed magician held a stern expression. "He is not in any immediate danger as of yet. As for his affliction, relief may yet come. If nothing else, the Curse of the Heart Strings is a facinating subject for study. Who knows, perhaps we will find a cure of some sort. But know this Quilton, he has killed my people for seemingly no reason. We Green Elves do not take murder lightly. He will be judged for his crimes and punished as is appropriate."

"My promise-" began Quilton.

"WAS MISGUIDED!" the elven magician thundered. "He is a criminal and an orc-friend. Or at least someone who deals with that foul kind. He is a slayer of our kith and it was his own foolishness that led him to be afflicted. It is mercy enough that he is alive still."

Quilton's face looked haggard. "Why do I get the feeling I was used?"

Tangle Leaf's voice softened. "Old friend, take a hold of yourself. You chose to guide him here. You chose to bring him to me and the others. No one compelled you."

"That does not quite wash away the bitterness of guilt." the wizard replied softly. "Very well. If you and your people have genuine grievances...but please, let me explain it to him. I owe him that much at the least."

Quilton's elvish counter-part nodded. "I doubt he will care much for your words right now, but if you wish."

All the while. Daelin fought futilely, his mind screaming for his limbs to move. There would be hell to pay, he decided, if he ever got out of this mess.

[ October 26, 2002, 17:10: Message edited by: Reislied ]

 

Quilto edges forwards and starts to explain the situation. While speaking, Quilton appears to wave about his arms in exasperation. But with his back turned and only for the tieflings eyes, a spell is being cast. The arcane powers flow uncontrollably, yet seemed to be controlled so that they do not flicker out of several inches of his chest.

With a sigh, Quilton activates the spell and it vanishes. Immediately, Daelin can feel the restraining spell loosen and dissapaite. Quilton looks at Daelin and says

"I shall take my leave now, I am sorry i cannot do much more ... Maybe we shall meet again?"

Quilton then turns and nods at Tangle Leaf. He then casts dimension door and steps through it. Secretly he times the door to last those few seconds more...

 

The feeling around the campfire was far from cozy. Darielle huddled close to Mez and they spoke in soft tones of marks that they had taken with some difficulty. Naran cleaned his axe off of the blood from the GiantKin hunting party that had attacked them earlier that day. Hyman sat singing an epic ballad of Knightdom while he polished his stunning breastplate. Dorin looked deep into the flames and used them to meditate , allowing his tracing spell on Daelin to become more clear. Karvel nervously twitched at a distance from the others. His eyes were in shadow and his hair looked more touseled than ever.

The grating of Karvel's chain mail gloves as his hands wrung upon the shaft of his treasured spear was almost as loud as the grinding of his teeth. He mused on the events of the past day. During a particularly sketchy cliff scaling he had hearly fallen and had to be saved by the greasy orc. Then the elf had called out the presence of the GiantKin hunters even though they were on his flank of the party. In the following battle ha was forced to be saved by the paladin as he was surrounded by the large brutes. Then while hunting he had nearly shot the assassin, Mez, with his small crossbow while drawing down on a squirrel. It had not been a good day.

Dorin lurched forward and nearly plunged into the fire, Naran swiftly yanked back his ally's cowl and cloak and pulled him from harm's way. "Why did that happen?" Naran growled testily. He had been Dorin's favorite protecter, until the tiefling came about.

"My trace has been severed." Dorin stared wide eyed across the fire. A blood curtling scream rent the air about them. Naran dopped back onto his back clutching his ears. Darielle leapt to her feet and began to cry out.

Karvel flung himself over the fire and screamed again as he stabbed his spear at Dorin, his principal rival as he saw it. before the spear got there Dorin produced a small mace from his cloak and batted the weapon out of line. It came on and glanced off of the psy's shoulder. In the next split second Naran's axe had sliced Karvel's spear-shaft and almost severed his leading hand, while Darielle moved forward at lighting speed. Before either of the two swift warriors could move again a bloodred flail smashed into the top of Karvel's skull, spattering gore across ten feet, and a longsword sliced into the traitor's heart. The hands on the ends of these weapons where traced back by all who watched to the grim face of Hyman.

The paladin's face slowly drooped into horror as he dropped his two mightiest weapons. "By Helm. I do not feel your blessing in my heart." Hyman gasped out. His face turned upward and he cried out in sheer agony, "You have truly abandoned me, foul wretch! You have forced me to kill my trust! Curse you! Curse you and the demons of the lower planes you have forced upon me!"

He ran his bloddied hands through his hair and fell sobbing to his knees. The others looked on helplessly with utter amazement. They had lost two members of their party by the looks of things.

 

Daelin smirked. He allowed himself that much before he sprang out and barrelled over the elf healer. With his sword out, the tiefling prepared to sell his life at a steep, steep price. But out of the corner of his eyes he saw the dimensional portal and dived for it even as elven arrows shot past him. Tangle-Leaf would have had him there and then, but the elvish wizard, though his mouth was open, had no voice.

And on the other side of the portal, Quilton smirked as well. Apparently, Tangle-Leaf was not the only one who could weave a subtle spell. The wizard was casually leaning against a tree when Daelin popped out. The tiefling's feet just barely made it as the portal shrank and disappeared.

The first thing Daelin noticed was that it was dark. And unusually quiet. He got up on his feet and looked around until he saw Quilton nearby. For a few moments, wizard and tiefling merely looked at each other, though in the darkness they were both little more than dark outlines. Daelin was the first to break the silence.

"Why do I get the feeling that this was all an act?" he asked. His voice was quiet and low, full of suspicion. It was also full of anger. His sword was notably still unsheathed.

The wizard hesitated, seemingly surprised. "You knew?" There was a smile in his tone, a confident cheerfulness. "Was I really that obvious?"

"Well," Daelin replied dryly, "You don't seem the...submissive type."

"Hmph. I see.", was all the wizard said. He crouched down and seemed to pull something out of the air. With a twisting motion, he set the object on the ground. A sharp flare of light sprang out from a ethereal globe about the size of a fist.

"Too bright..." Quilton muttered. With some more strange hand gestures he tweaked the light.

Daelin waited, but when it looked as though the wizard would go on for quite a bit longer, he interrupted. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

Quilton looked up. In the light, Daelin noticed with a start that the wizard's face looked lined with stress and exhaustion. There was sweat on his brows as well as if he had undergone some terrific exertion.

"What? An explanation? Oh, I suppose I might as well. It is a chore sometimes to explain the ways of wizards to ordinary folk, but I will try."

"I'll give you a place to start then. Who the hell are you really and why did you take me?"

"Hmm, as to who I really am, that would take some hours to explain and those hours we do not have. Suffice it to say this, I am indeed called Quilton. I am a wizard who has watched you and your companions since the fight with the elves. At first I was content to follow that positively unique little green fellow. I have never seen another like him. But when you became cursed with the Crimson Strings, my focus shifted to you. I could never resist the mysteries of cursed items."

The globe of light dimmed and shrank and became a funnel that shined upward, almost like a beacon. "Too top heavy...", thw wizard muttered again, and commenced with even more intricate hand signals as he continued.

"Anyway, you weren't going to get cured by the little fellow. Even if he is very strong, it would have taken a few days. The elves had a part in creating that harp, they are the ones who could heal you of the harp's curse before it was too late. So, like I said, I took you to cure you, in addition to my own studies of course." The wizard paused and there was a gleam of admiration in his eyes.

"Quite clever of that little fellow to use you as bait." Quilton continued. "Very, very clever. He is definitely my match. He did not wish to, but he had no choice. But, moving on, I knew I would have to convince you to enter the forest where those who wanted to kill you, lay. Imagine my surprise when you did not protest at all! You, a warrior, a century old one at that, trusting a wizard to lead you into the home of the enemy!"

Daelin shifted to one foot and leaned on his sword. He was no longer tense, but merely wary. "So that's when you knew something was wrong. When that elf sorceror cast Haze Mind"

"No." replied Quilton. "Actually, I knew something was wrong when we first entered the forest. Listen!", he hissed.

The tiefling looked at him, puzzled. There was nothing to hear except for crickets and the rustling of leaves. "Was it the silence?", he asked.

The black robed mage shook his head and pointed to his ears. "Listen." he said again.

So, frowning, Daelin closed his eyes. The beating of his heart was all he heard. That pumping slowly changed to a plucking, that loathsome plucking sound as if a harp...
Daelin almost leaped straight up in an effort to silence what he heard. It was his heart. It was the crickets and the leaves. It was the wind in the boughs, the creaking of branches, the sway of the grass. It was the the very air itself that...plucked a hauntingly, sickeningly familiar tune. As if the very forest itself had become some sort of vile chorus, the music was everywhere and in everything.

"The bard..." he whispered, his face suddenly pale.

The wizard smiled slyly. "Oh yes, Jace. Jace, whose tongue you cut. Jace, who slit his own wrist. Jace who is yet in these very woods, his spirit borne on a cursed song. Amazing is it not? A song was on his lips, even as you silenced him. The very last words he ever said was accompanied to the music of that accursed harp. And death...death gave those words, and that music, a power beyond life. He is here, and the very forest itself bends itself to the Curse of the Crimson Strings and the will of Jace."

The globe of light the wizard was working on limited its glow to a short radius around itself, illuminating Quilton's face. Daelin was silent.

"Yes, it's a very subtle thing. You did not hear it at first, but you are a stranger to these woods. I have visited here often and I know the sounds of the forest. I knew immediately that some malignant influence was here. But, foolishly, I went on. I thought it was merely some residual effect of the curse."

Here, Quilton paused and shook his head in regret. He peered deep into the globe of light before resuming.

"Now, the elves would have killed you, it's true. Even with me there, they would have killed you for what you did to them. But they respect Tangle-Leaf, and if he said not to harm you, they would not. Tangle-Leaf, though an elf as well, is a wizard much like myself. That means he sets aside grudges in a desire for more knowledge. I knew him, and I knew he would never let you come to harm. Now imagine my further surprise when he acts like the rest of the elves! So I played the part of the submissive friend, and it was good enough to fool him, or whatever controlled him, for a while."

A flash of light again came from the globe. Daelin sat down next to Quilton as he observed pictures forming within the globe.

"Even so," said the wizard, "It was a close call. The curse is actually resisting every magic I use. It took nearly all my strength to open that dimensional door. This Locator spell is one of the simplest in my repertoire, yet it feels like some advanced summoning spell. The curse is getting stronger by the hour. If only poor Tangle-Leaf had known it's nature earlier, he could have escaped."

"Escaped?"

"Yes, the curse is only contained inside these woods. Outside, it's influence is gone. Jace knows this and he has prevented my teleport from extending beyond the forest." Suddenly, Quilton's eyes rolled up in its sockets and for a moment he looked as if he was going to faint. Quickly, he recovered from the weakness.

Daelin had stood up in alarm. "What's wrong? Is it the curse? Is it getting to you too?"

The wizard waved a hand and shook his head. "No, I am using the strongest anti-magic shield spell to protect myself." he said, his voice gone hoarse with strain. "I've extended it to you as well, but it's taxing what small strength I have left. We need to find that little fellow if we are to survive much longer. His mind power is of a different nature than mine and he should easily be able to protect us."

As if on cue, Dorin's face appeared in the globe. "He's here?" Daelin asked. He was somewhat surprised.

"He is loyal.", Quilton nodded. The image in the globe expanded until the two saw not only Dorin, but Naran and the rest as well.

"Come, we have not a moment to lose." said the wizard as he dispelled the globe. "Your companions are still in danger of the music. The little one can protect all of us, but not if he doesn't know the danger himself. We must reach him and warn him before my shield wears out. Quickly!"

The two nearly ran through the trees as the vile music played on.

 

As the heartbroken paladin wailed with the sheerest agony and pain, Naran began to huff with anger. In the blink of an eye Naran's hand snapped backward pulling his arm across in the strongest backhand he had ever utilized. Hyman was thrown backward several feet before his head cracked resoundingly against the tree Karvel had been sitting against.

"We can't stay here, the fallen man has undoubtedly brought all the forest dwellers for a hundred miles to play with us!" Naran nearly roared. The word "man" was spit out with utter disgust and rang painfully in Dorin's ears.

Mez apparently caught the inflection as well and began to scowl and reach for his blade and dagger. Darielle's ears perked up and she hissed, "Listen!" Dorin climbed atop a stump as the sound reached his ear. Naran's nasty demeanor was dropped as curiosity, and familliarity, took hold instead. Mez stood up quickly and nearly bolted in terror becuase of the feeling of dread that came over him.

"The harp," Naran gasped as he recognized the fell song for what it was. Dorin swiftly formed a mental barrier around their small camp that manifested itself into a physical shield crackling silently with blue energy. The song sounded filtered and came from the West now, the direction of the deeper forest.

The tension created after Karvel's death was erased as Dorin formed another spell, he silently hoped he wasn't supporting too many spells at once. Understanding (as Dorin saw it) instantly sprang into the others' minds. Apparently a curse on the elven woods was driving them into various degrees of insanity. Dorin hoped as he looked at the crumpled unconcious from of Hyman that someone with more knowledge could explain it to him exactly.

Two figures could be seen coming towards the barrier from the West. The song seemed to grow strength as they neared.

[ November 08, 2002, 00:48: Message edited by: The Irreligious Paladin ]