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Daelin jogged onwards, the wizard alongside. The wizard seemed suprisingly strong for a scholar in his eyes. He had to admit that he was scared. He was scared of death. He had never feared it before, but he feared the fact that he was slowly weakening until he would be as strong as an old, senile man. But he drove on with hope, for if they could find Dorin, they may actually make it out with Daelin alive. Daelin glanced again at Quilton, he was tiring fast, and was showing it. His robes were soaked with sweat, and beads of it ran down his forhead.
Up ahead, Daelin thought his keen senses had picked up voices. He immediately thought of Dorin, but then, he thougtht that it could be elves. They would have to take that chance....

 

Quilton notices the voices as they trudge nearer. He looks at Daelin and whispers

"We have to be prepared ... hold on one second"

Quilton concentrates and does the nessecary palm guestures and movements, all the while beads of sweat are pouring down his face. He mutters the last words and a bright blue light engulfs himself and Daelin and then dissapears. Daelin looks down at himself and is surprised to see his own hands appearing translucent.

"Wha ... what have you done?"

Quilton smiles

"How else did you think i followed you ... We're invisible! Now lets go!"

The pair start their running again

 

The figures seemed to shimmer and then they dissapered. Dorin grew nervous and prepared to release the barrier and allow the able fighters to move on whatever the figures were. Mez took a position to the North and Darielle went to the South while Naran drew his new axe and drew a finger along the edge at the West. Hyman had recovered from Naran's blow but still looked shaken by his murderous deed. Still the need to survive forced him to brandish his flail and shield favoring them over his sword, which still resided in the trecherous form of Karvel.

Daelin and Quilton looked at the barrier with wonder. They could see five forms inside but they were little more than shapeless shadows. "Should we call to them?" Daelin mouthed to Quilton.

"No. We should skirt the perimeter and find the weakness first." Quilton whispered softly. Daelin nodded and he began to circle around to the South. Quilton took to the North and they soon bumped into each other at the East end. "I believe that this is as good a place as any to make our presence known."

The following moments were pure torture for the jumpy camp. Naran growled softly and Mez and Darielle's trained eyes darted every which way to pick up the semblance of a clue. Hyman started to say a prayer and then stopped himself.

Dorin closed his eyes and tried to expand his mind's radius without dropping the field. He felt something but couldn't tell anything else about it.

 

Quilton let the invisibilty spell drop. Hyman gave a yelp and swung his flail at the two figures that had just appeared before him, but he misjudged the distance and his flail sailed harmlessly past them. Daelin shouted out "Dorin!". Dorrin opened his eyes, but even when he saw the Tieflings face did he drop the barrier.
"Stay back" he called from inside the shimmering fortress "You're curse could contaminate us." Naran called to Dorrin
"Let me slice his head open. We'd be much safer then,"
"You'll have to wait until I sleep scum," called Daelin "my grandmother could move faster than you," Naran growled and licked his lips, but he would not attack. He was ever loyal and would only fight if Dorrin gave him the command. Quilton stepped up
"The curse will only last while we are in this forest, we must move quickly, form another barrier to protect us from the curse and let us be off." ...

[ November 14, 2002, 15:38: Message edited by: Midnight Falcon ]

 

Dorin sensed the wizards power and had no problem believing what he said as being true. Naran's face looked sour enough to puke, he still wanted to disect the pesky tiefling.

When Dorin had crafted a mind barrier to protect the group from the effects of the curse they set off with Darielle as a leading scout and Mez and Daelin in tight flanks.

Naran walked at the rear and kept an eye on the Tiefling, the trecherous elf, the crafty assassin, the fallen paladin, and the enigmatic wizard at all times. The rythym of Daelin's heartbeat was growing to match the discordant song more with every passing second and kept him fairly distracted. Mez was only human and although quite alert never knew of the dangers about them. Darielle was continually wishing that she could somehow escape the group and return to her mother's people, the green elves. Dorin and Quilton were discussing the traits of magic on different planes of existence. Hyman was utterly useless as he brooded on his many failures in protecting his trust and then attacking allies without thought.

Which explains how the alliance of wood elves and worgs, brought together in arms by the unholiness of the curse, were able to spring their trap with such efficiency.

[ November 15, 2002, 07:01: Message edited by: The Irreligious Paladin ]

 

The party was moving about through a dense field of oaks and ash trees. The path was narrow and they were forced to walk extremely slowly.

Daerelle was wondering why the hell Dorin and the wizard talked so damned much. Combined with the incessant music, it was all giving her a headache. It was Jace, she knew. She could feel the curse pressing down on them all, but especially her. The bard had tried to get her into his bed for months back when he was alive. He had this fancy notion that the elf girl was madly in love with him. For her part, Daerelle had encouraged it. The gifts he brought back from his various escapades almost always found a way into her hands. Trinkets of silver and gold, music boxes of ivory, daggers embedded with rare blue gems, precious and rare items of all kinds delighted her.

The bow she carried was carved of white wood from a branch of a single rare tree that grew on top of a mountain in the Spine of the World. The string was in fact a single, fine strand of hair from a goddess who once walked the earth in mortal form. An arrow shot from this bow would home in on its target relentlessly. She had once saw an arrow actually turn a corner in pursuit of a gibberling. And because it seemed as if it was the arrow that was magical, she had made a pretty penny selling the "Magical Homing Arrows" to many a fool.

Now Jace knew he was taken for a fool as well and dead or alive, he would try his hardest to get back at Daerelle. She mightily refrained from uttering a sigh. With Jace dead, she had decided to leave the forest and enter service with a mercenary guild, the Dragonspear it was called. How else could she continue finding such rare and splendid artifacts like her bow? But the very first job had been to escort the goblin-thing back to the forest along with the orc had killed a number of elves to rescue a tiefling that had also killed her people. More to her surprise, she had missed the forest and the familiarity of her people. Coming back brought a slight sadness to her. Thoughts of simply leaving the wrethced group frequently crossed her mind.

At least Mez had made the trip a little more tolerable. For all his hardened instincts, the assassin was quite gullible, she thought. Merely sitting close to him, a smile now and then, and he was putty in the elf girl's hands. The obsidian trimmed twin daggers he always had close at hand were quite unusual...and rare.

Mez, walking as far away from the elvish huntress as he could, was wondering how he had let his guard down so easily in her presence. A quick look at the golden hair that flowed like silk to frame a heart shaped face that seemed no less prettier because it was streaked with dirt, gave him his answer.
He had genuinely believed that she was in love with him. Mez also figured now that he was probably not the first to think so. When one lives the rough life of the assassin, one learn a few lessons about people. What he learned about Daerelle was that she only cared for her people, the Green Elves. A bit strange in itself since Mez had been sure when he first met her that she was a High Elf. He smirked a bit. What High Elf would lower her standards to live among the wild elves and run-of-the-mill mercenaries?

Naran stared in disdain at Daelin, who in turn gave the orc his best glare. So the contest wore on until Naran caught something in the air.
"...wolves.", he rumbled, the tiefling instantly forgotten. "I should be in the lead."

"You're too damn big.", Daelin replied shortly. "They'll see you from a mile away. If anyone, it's me who should be in the lead at this point."

Naran snorted and grinned. "You're short enough, but the way you're walking they would hear us from a mile away."
As if to emphasize his point, Daelin accidently dragged his feet into a dry branch that crunched most loudly. The tiefling had thought he was recovering, but Quilton had explained otherwise. It appeared Jace was not trying to kill him at all, just weaken his mind and body to a certain point. And at that point, the he would be subverted.
It would be Jace's ultimate revenge, to become his killer and live again through Daelin's body. But, it would appear the tiefling would escape such a fate. The shield, whatever its nature, was giving him a refuge. He felt stronger, more able. Unless complete disaster struck, they would all make it out of these cursed woods. For some reason Daelin wished that thought hadn't cross his mind. Warrior's superstition? His thoughts were interrupted by Hyman.

"Wolves are as natural to a wood as trees.", the tall armored man replied to the orc. His voice was a dry baritone, concealing whatever emotions he was feeling.

Naran grunted noncommitedly and continued smelling the air about for a few more seconds. His great head shook warily, but he focused his attention on the group once more.

Meanwhile, the dark robed mage calling himself Quilton, frequently poked the air in front of him and shook his head disapprovingly.
"It's not quite right, Dorin. Much too porous." he said.

"You will have to describe the properties of this curse a little better if you want me to make a better defense." replied Dorin as he kept a slightly nervous eye about him. "I don't know how to erect a general 'anti-magic' field."

The wizard shrugged coolly.
"I hardly know more about this curse than you. I was hoping your extra-planar mind could form the best defense."

Dorin turned his attention on the mage, "Do you know the best defense?"

This time, Quilton was silent for a few moments. When he finally answered his face was taut and serious.
"Shut off the aural energy plane of this shield, then turn about the sixth Sphere of Manifestation at a 345 degree angle."

Although the little extra-dimensional creature was not overly fond of wizards in this realm and a bit in the dark about their ways, he could understand the terms Quilton was using.
"Done and done." he replied after doing little more than a blink.

The look of astonishment on the wizard's face was plain to behold. "Incredible...", he breathed. The music and its effect on the mind had dimmed noticeably. "You are a newcomer to this plane and yet you can manage its astral properties like no native can." He frowned as he inspected the shield again. "It's not quite solid."
But he smiled as he said, "I'm sure just a few extra tweaks though...try increasing the Zone of Spirit."

"Spirit?" Dorin asked. His brows furrowed as he tried to grasp the concept. "You know I've never understood that term."

No wonder you don't cast normal spells like Fireball, Quilton thought to himself. But aloud he only said, "Well, it's good enough for the time being."

Daerelle signalled for a stop. The path had widened noticeably. They were at a small clearing apparently. There was something familiar about the area.

"It's the same blasted place!", Naran exclaimed. And it indeed appeared to be the exact spot where they met Daelin and the wizard. There was the remains of the fire Dorin and Karvel made. In addition, there were the remains of Karvel. There could be no mistaking the mishappen lump that had become his head courtesy of a flail, the missing right hand, and the gaping hole where his heart should have been.

It was the black robed mage who moved about first. Quilton critically eyed everything in the area. "Something is amiss here..." he muttered as he leaned over the corpse to inspect it. There was absolutely no warning as a rotting left hand shot forth and grasped the wizard about the neck, squeezing with the unholy strength of the dead.

And that might have been the end of the wizard had not Daelin leaped forth and slashed the hand with one deft stroke. With a touch, Quilton pulled loose the spasming hand from his throat, coughing unsteadily. But Daelin had moved too far inside the corpse's reach and found himself trapped as the thing that once was Karvel closed its arms about him. But Naran was upon him in another moment, rivalries forgotten for now, dashing into both Tiefling and Undead, knocking them to the ground. That was all Daelin needed to burst free his sword arm and cut the corpse's arms. But even as he did this, Undead Karvel opened his jaws and prepared to tear Naran's calf out. A whisper of white fire from the wizard knocked the head back long enough for Naran to move away.

Quilton had recovered presently and barked out an order. "Both of you! Get away from it!". It appeared he was getting ready to summon up a spell. "You!" he pointed at Hyman who was staring nervously at the moving corpse. "Can't you Turn it?"

But the former Paladin was too much in a sense of shock. Karvel had been a brother-in-arms, the fact that he had killed him was bad enough but, to see the corpse, so horribly defiled by his own hands and the Curse of the Crimson Strings rise up? It was too much.

"He's a Fallen Paladin!" replied Mez, who had taken up a defensive position in front of Dorin. "Might as well ask Naran to Turn it for all the good it'll do!"

"It's just a zombie.", said Daelin, confidently hefting his sword. "I've killed dozens of them. This one is no different."

Dorin was sweating profusely, the pressure on the shield had grown enormously. It was taking more effort than he thought. With the group spread out like this, it was only adding to the problem.
"Stay together! Stay together or-"

But he had never had the chance to finish what he was going to say. With the group spread apart and confused, Jace, or whatever he had turned into, decided it was time to strike.

Howls rent the air, dozens and dozens of them. And through the trees was seen the spectral shapes of Worg riders. In a horror, most keenly felt by Daerelle, they realized it was not goblins or orcs that rode those foul wolves, but Elves! But the fact they were surrounded was the final terror. For the Worg riders had stopped just away from the front most trees of the clearing. It was apparent why as the trees themselves began moving.

"Dark Treants!", Quilton hissed. His upraised fist shook and a soft yellow glow formed around it. With an arcane word of Lore, he struck the forest soil, letting loose an enormous ring of blinding wizard's fire. The ring spread out and out, smashing into the Undead Karvel and biting into the Dark Treants. But it could not reach the Worg riding elves.

Daelin, Hyman, and Naran, the strongest physical fighters, assumed a defensive stance near the fire. The tiefling in particular looked eager for something physical to strike at. He had been fighting curses and spirits for too long. Daerelle was left to guard Dorin and provide cover fire with her bow.
Mez, the tattooed assassin, had disappeared completely while Quilton merely stood still, trying to assess the situation. What he saw wasn't encouraging. Many Treants had been hurt by his fire and the uninjured ones stayed away from the ring. But it was fast dying. Even if they managed to break past the Treants, there were still too many Worg riders. The biggest problem however, was that the shield Dorin had made was growing alarmingly faint.

As if to emphasize the hopelessness of the situation, from out of the ring of fire burst forth a flaming form. Undead Karvel, his body completely on fire, advanced upon the group.

[ November 16, 2002, 23:17: Message edited by: Reislied ]

 

The fire turned into a sickly green-yellow as it danced across the broken form of the twisted zombie-Karvel. It advanced steadily even though it had no arms and less than half its head. It opened its mouth and charged straight at Hyman.

Hyman heard the cursed voice of Karvel whispering in his head, "You deserve the fate I thrust upon you. Die as the traitorous dog you are. You broke your oath to me." Hyman began to sob even as he lifted his magical flail and swung hard at the flaming abominations ribs. the creature crumpled and the flames snuffed out. That didn't prevent Hyman from making sure his failure didn't come back for a second time. He continued swinging, pounding the gore into the soft soil of the Elven wood.

Darielle found that tears were dripping from her eyes as she veiwed her kin, the people who had taken her in when her own had utterly rejected her as "un-holy," sitting atop the mortal enemies of the forest itself, the worgs. As a bold worg and his companion elf charged forward she shot an arrow into the morg's eye and even as the elf pitched over the creature's head she drew her curving blade and sliced viciously across his throat.

Naran's axe was seen as the second largest threat to the treants after the wizardly fire. so the few remaining treants rushed at Naran from the compass points. The dwarven weapon slapped down the North treant and bit deeply into the West treant. The East treant wrapped its branches around Naran's shoulders. After a swift but brutal struggle Naran strained his neck and shoulder muscles to the breaking until he heard the crack of wood and the treant fell back in surprise at the orc's strength. The South treant found his opening and wrestled down ontop of Naran, bearing him to the ground with a crash.

Daelin had gone berserk as the harp chords screamed louder in his mind and he felt his heart thump along. He would have run right through the wrog-riders had they not initiated a charge first and rode at him. He swung with a two-handed grip, cleaving an elf in half here, taking a worg's leg there. Daelin threw himself into a tornado like fury spinning around, swinging so fast that he looked like a spinning top that elves and worgs bounced off of bloodied and maimed.

Mez thought of Darielle's misleading and nearly became enraged. He wished to harm her now and thought that if these are indeed her people, then he would destroy all of them and sever all her ties to this accursed forest. A worg bit into hig forearm but before it got too deep one of Mez's daggers was in and out of the beasts skull, piercing the brain. An elf came toward Mez weilding two bone daggers. Mez smiled and a breathtaking dance of a knife fight ensued. A bone dagger ripped at Mez's cloak and an obsidian blade drew minor hits across the elf's biceps and forearms.

Quilton prepared another spell and shot it into an advancing horde of the worg-riding elves. A green cloud of noxious fumes wrapped around the elves and worgs. The worgs yelped and whined and ran out of the reeking cloud in a mad rush to find their holes and crawl back inside. Soon the elves began to advance in a death-like trnce out of the cloud, snarling and hissing like feral beasts. Dawning struck and Quilton understood more about the curse. The generally good elves were overtaken by it and turned wholly into zombie-slaves of the evil machinations of whoever started the curse, in this case the bard, Jace. The evilness clouded the elves minds to fully for his spell to afect their senses at all, much as the stinking cloud would have worked against a horde of mummies. The worgs were already evil and were attacking simply to further evil in the wood, hence the worgs were affected, but not the elves. As Quilton understood this he realized that the elves had gotten far too close for comfort. He began to hurl magic missles and acid arrows everywhere in an attempt to keep the advancing horde back.

Dorin was blasted into the waiting arms of a sapling treant and held tight as his mind shield nearly broke. He could feel the strentgh of the evil will controlling all these things: the elves, the curse, the treants. Dorin was forced by the will into a meditative trance and he found his will in a small arena. The arena almost looked as though it had been carved out of the mountain by nature herself, it was neither a carved or natural construct. Dorin looked to the stands behind him and saw through the grayness of this will-plane that his companions: Quilton, Naran, Darielle, Hymann, Mez, and Daelin were all standing behind him looking at him with horror-stricken faces.

"Welcome, Psy-man." came the sweet sing-song voice. Dorin looked across the arena and saw a mist pulling together into the firgure of Jace. Jace looked somehow larger, more imposing than he had in life, his will was strong with hatred, Dorin thought. Behind Jace a roaring crowd of Elves and treants were roaring and calling for blood. "This is a mind-field. Here I will fight your will for domination. We wager the wills we already possess." Jace swept around to indicate the crowd behind him. "Come, if you defeat me you may have power enough to return to your home."

Dorin looked about resignedly. On this mind-field his will was as small to Jace's as his earthly form was to Naran. He didn't think he had a chance, but he knew he didn't have a choice.

 

As Dorin starts his battle with Jace, the others note that it suddenly grows dark, the clouds seem to gather from miles around and lower themselves over the group. Everything is suddenly covered in mist and fog. Upon looking up, forwards, backwards and sideways, it is clear that the mist is encompassing the area and is at least several miles in diameter. The sunlight is completely blocked apart from the rare streak of sunlight that is somehow able to pierce the intense fog. Surrounding the group except for Dorin, a hideous laughter can be heard blocking out every other sound but their own voices...

 

The treant screamed as it splintered and split. Naran leapt from the wooded carcass and retrieved his axe from another twitching treant. Worg-riding elves were everywhere it seemed. He didn't even have time to look for his companions as he was forced into battle with a spear-weilding elf and a cruel-eyed worg.

Daelin slowly realized his loss of control and tried to gain it back, but he was too deep in enemies to allow a pause in fighting or a shift in style. He slowed slightly and the alert elves noticed and were soon attacking with increased vigor. The elves seemed as a constant wave breaking about Daelin as he swung; left, then right, then a spin around to take the elves coming at his back, and then a spin in the opposite direction, to do the same. Daelin had allowed himself to delve too far into the ambushers' ranks. he was hard pressed.

Hymann realized his peril in attacking a felled enemy when a large silver-furred worg had tackled him to the ground. A mail fist was inserted between the snapping jaws to keep the razor teeth from Hymann's face. The close proximity meant that he could not swing his flail. With his shielded arm he stabbed the pointed bottom of his trapezoidal shiled at the creature's ribs. It howled as it was hurled off of him by a crazy-eyed elf wielding a short steel sword, a rarity in the ranks of the wood elves. Hymann scrambled to his feet and the opponents squared off.

Darielle chopped and thrust at the pressing foes with wreatched glee. Seeing the people who had accepted her when her gold elf mother had abandoned her due to the dubious nature of her father consorting with evil brought the tears in a steady stream. She saw her killing of them as an unpleasant necessity to free them of the curse entangling their minds. A worg managed to clamp it's strong jaws onto her left shoulder and nearly tore it off. She fumbled briefly for a dagger and stabbed through her own shoulder to get the best angle at the monster. The long blade lanced through her shoulder and under the worgs upper jaw, tearing into it's vile brain. The creature died but stubbornly didn't relese its grip on her shoulder. A wood elf club blasted into her face. Darielle saw stars for a moment and then fell into unconciuosness. At least I don't have to watch this abomination, she thought as blackness overtook her.

Mez and the dagger-weilding elf fell back from each other and regarded their opponent. Mez saw the elf waiting to leap, on a hunch he exploded into motion. An obsidian handled blade sliced through the air where the elf's head had been miliseconds before. The elf grinned in triumph and charged with one blade raised and readied for a downstorke the other down low ready for a stab. The elf fell with Mez's slender sword slipped through his lungs. Mez smiled and removed the weapon turning to find new enemies.

Quilton cursed and hefted his staff high above his head as though to swing at the nearer elves. The elves fell back cautiously but a evil hunger still burned in there eyes. Quilton bellowed a word of power and swung his stout staff through the ait in a broad arc before him. In its wake the artifact threw red-wizard lightning as it turned the very air contacting its tip into energy, the lightning rushed out in a wave to blast the elves off their feet. They fell to the ground twitching as red electricity roamed across their body's. Quilton yelled in fear at seeing the treant holding Dorin tightly. He prepared a small fire spell and rushed towards the creature.

A heavy and wicked mace appeared in Jace's hand and his will produced a suit of armor decorated with harps, lutes, and music notes across its golden surface around his body. The manifestation of the bard's will paused before advancing on the small goblinoid, "Come create a sword or something to fight with, Psy! It will be less fun if you simply allow me to crush you and take your body." The Psy stood his ground and glowered defiantly at the towering man's form. Jace snarled with rage and swung the heavy mace down at Dorin's head. Dorin did not move but just before the mace hit the top of his skull he concentrated and Jace suddenly overbalanced, Dorin ran quickly at the armored man's legs and tripped him. Jace fell without the mace. The creature was stronger than he wished to appear if he could steal things that Jace produced. Indeed Dorin had made the mace disappear and then used the overbalance to his benefit. This would be a long battle indeed.

 

Across the land, hundreds of leagues apart, particles of a black energy seemed to be seeping from grave yards and collecting at a focal point. That point being Jace's corperal body. With every minute, Jace's aura of power seemed to be growing dramatically causing all those around him to feel weighted down and lumbered. The laughter was growing louder and even now it seemed to be affecting the elves battling the group. They appear slightly disorientated and almost hesitate to strike. The mist gets thicker and now it is hard to see anything beyond 30 feet. Yet, the sounds of battle are still rife and it is clear that everyone is no more then 40 feet apart, from one end to the other. Around Jace's incorperal form, an aura of black hatred seems to seep and from Jace, yet nothing drips from the form.

Jace grins a dark, evil, crazy grin at Dorin, his eyes are ablaze with black eyes and red pupils. A face of madness is upon Dorin and it is clear that Jace will stop at nothing to get what he wants ... revenge and the death of life of those that killed him...

 

As Jace's will gathered power by stealing will power from the elves he had taken, the elves dropped where they stood, or sat upon worgs. Without their elven allies the worgs grew fearful and retreated into the night. Hymann backed away from the elf with the sword that had crumpled at his feet. Mez backed away from where he had been.

Mez felt someone at his back and spun around stabbing as he did so. Hymann felt someone at his back and executed a similar move but punched out with his mailed fist. Mez's dagger clanged against Hymann's breastplate and was turned. Hymann's blind punch glanced off Mez's shoulder. When the two men realized their folly they turned away to scan the fog about them. Where had their foes gone off to?

Naran gaped at the elves that had dropped so suddenly. He heard the words of a spell and saw a blue light appear as a beacon through the fog. He followed it to the staff of the weary wizard Quilton. Standing at the ready near the wizard was Daelin and Hymann and Mez soon came closer. Darielle woke and with a groan threw the elf bodies off of her, she went towards the blue beacon with her bow drawn and an arrow nocked. The party looked at each other and where amazed to see only minor injuries, until Quilton swept his hand to shift the swirling mists and the companions saw the form of Dorin, obviously in a painful trance sprwled at the foot of a smoldering treant.

"We must give Dorin our faith. He is battling Jace's will for control of the forest. If he looses, we will become like the elves. If he wins we will be freed from Jace's evil curse. We must give him our faith." said Quilton with the conviction of a prophet.

Naran sat cross-legged next to his master's head and prpared himself for meditation, he would give more than his faith, he would give Dorin his strength.

 

While Naran sits down concentrating, and Jace's mind upon Dorin, Quilton takes advantage of the small space of air allowed by Jace to conjur a spell. His brow furrows and his mind locks into deep consentration. He grips his staff and places his free hand upon his temple. Words are muttered and the first signs of the spell working is the noticable (to all those in his field of vision) bright blue arcane glow from his eyes. An instant later, A bright blue light engulfs himself and the group forming a protective ring around them and himself.

Those that were not concentrating before, guess what he is trying to do and start to put their faith in Dorin forwards. They feel an energy energy enter their beings and draw what feels like a force that had been locked away from their conciousness. As they call upon their innermost faiths, their wounds seem to become less painful and almost seem as they had been totally healed. Their aches and pains dissapear and the locked force seems to unlock and channel freely from their souls.

Quilton concentrates and allows the energy flowing into him. He then channels it towards Dorin. Blue Arcane beams pour out of the group and into Quilton. Using himself as the focal point. He directs the energy towards Dorin, planing the focused beam into Dorin's chest. Everything starts to flow...

 

On the mindfield several things happened. Jace's supporters dropped like flies as their wills were stolen to increase his power. White energy was sucked from the heads of the images of the elves and treants as they collapsed with gaped exprestions as their earthly counterparts had done. As the energy flowed into Jace he grew larger and more ominous. Black spikes burst from his armor to make him appear almost as a horned demon. He grew another few feet and stretched as his shoulders burst and muscles grew upon muscles. When the flow stopped Dorin now faced a hulking giant, taller than an ogre with the bulging rock hard muscles ascribed to the warrior gods themselves. The shield had grown and long spikes sprouted to make it a weapon as well. An even more wicked weapon appeard in his hand, a sword fully 7 feet long and twited and bent into a chaotic grace that only a madman could dream.

Laughter even more sinister and evil than Jace's earlier taunts rent the air with unholy clarity. On the material plane concentration waivered as they heard the laughter penetrate even to their world. "See what happens, little-one. I took my power and have grown more powerful than even your Psy-ruhks could dream possible. I am invincible!" roared the new and improved Jace will-spirit.

The image of Quilton behind Dorin began to glow softly. Quilton's eyes fluttered open and the blue faith-energy of Dorin's new friends blew from his eyes to sweep around Dorin. The energy made him grow as well, soon Dorin was as tall and muscular as Naran had ever been. The psychic power of Dorin made him still appear humble to the god-like Jace even while he was 7 foot tall. Jace's jaw dropped in surprise. Jace's face screwed up in hatred and he charged toward the seemingly small Psy with his sword raised and shield held out before him.

As the sword swept down Dorin brought his three-fingered hands together and slapped with the flat of his palms against the blades fairly smooth flat. The mind-blade snapped in half and dissappeared as Jace lost the will sufficient to keep the broken blade in the mind-feild. Jace screamed in triumph as the shield came forward to impale Dorin upon its deadly spikes.

Before the shield struck him, Jace was slammed to the side by a hurtling form. It was the form of Naran, Naran had given himself so fully to saving Dorin that he had appeared in the mindfield as Dorin and Jace both did. Naran brought up his axe as the horrified Jace began to rise, shield thrown far away and fading from the arena. A tear trickled down Dorin's face as he realized Naran's loyalty and love.

The blue force that had upgraded Dorin appeared again and flowed back towards Dorin's supporters. Soon Daelin leapt from the stands with his weapon drawn and bearing on Jace. Mez leapt down soon after with his daggers, and Darielle soon followed bringing an arrow to bear upon Jace from her magnificient bow. Quilton appeared and stepped down into the arena. Dorin had shrunck back to his relative size and he and his friends soon encircled the huge Jace.

"Not possible!" Jace screamed shrilly, shaking loose rocks from the higher stands of the arena.

 

6 to 1, thought Daelin, those odds aren't too bad. Jace stood before them all. Daelin looked at his companions. Naran was full of fury and rage, he looked as if he could bite off Jaces head with his teeth for attacking Dorin. Daelin found new respect for him in that, in fact, he actually got to thinking he may like the orc.

Mez was twirling his daggers, making amazing patterns with them, each more deadly and beautiful than the next.

Darielle was nocking an arrow. It was a amazingly fluid and well rehearsed method. The speed of which amazed Daelin.

Quilton stood proud and strong, his staff filled with magical power.

And Dorin. He was over twice his normal height, and looked over ten times as powerful.

And finally, Daelin looked at Jace. Larger and stronger than an ogre. A hilt forming in his clenched fist. A blade, blue and blazing like a spirit. A round shield, much like the sword formed across his left arm.

The 6 were circling Jace slowly, but he did not give them chance. His spirit sword cleaved and chaos broke loose. Magical energy blasted from Quiltons staff but Jace's shield confronted it and seemed to consume it. But it also seemed to shrink ever so slightly more with each blast.

An arrow hammered into Jaces spiked armour, it pierced and stayed, locked solidly in place, but the armour was so thick that it failed to reach his flesh.

Naran sliced his axe into the spiked armour. LIke the arrow, it failed to penetrate. Only Narans great strength managed to pull the axe free.

Mez had ducked the first sword swipe and rolled behind Jace, He leapt high, though he only reached Jace's waist and stabbed. His knives barely scratched the surface.

"Die Tiefling!" cried Jace, his spirit sword slicing the floor of the arena where Daelin had stood. He was trying to avenge his own death,"You shall feel the pain you caused me". Daelin danced to the left, his sword arm extended to Jace's forearm. The blade sliced through the armour easily, though he did not reach the flesh.

Daelin fell off balance. He had thought his blade would scratched like the others weapons had. But it had passed straight through. Quilton and Dorin had noticed first. Quilton called,

"Daelin! You hold the blade that slayed Jace, that blade alone will do him harm!" Daelin dodged another blow from the sword whilst Dorin charged. He knocked Jace to the ground in his tackle, the arena thundered as they fell. They were on the ground for only a moment, as Jace threw Dorin from him like a rag. Dorin moved nimbly in the air to land on his feet.

Naran moved in with his axe to the fallen Jace. Jace floated to hs feet as Naran leapt, Narans axe imbedded in the armour, at the knee. Naran held onto it though, even as Jace shook vigorously.

Darrielle had emptied her quiver on the armour. The shafts stood all over it, but none would pierce. She could see Mez had thrown his daggers as well but to no effect.

Daelin ran to Naran and tried to slice at Jace's leg, but Jace moved away with speed that Darielle would have hard pressed to equal. He tried again to slice at the foot, but he felt something curl around his body, it grew tighter and tighter. Daelin felt the air slowly being pushed out of his body, and then he felt his bones crease under the pressure of the strong hand.

Naran let go of the axe. He landed with a roll, he gained his feet and stood ready for an attack. But Jace seemed uninterested. Naran saw the Tiefling in his grasp, and he remembered the hatred Jace had for him.

Daelin heard his ribs cracking, his spine crack.
Below him he saw Naran looking up. He let the sword slip from his grasp to Naran below.

Naran caughtthe hilt easily, Jace still seemed unconcerned with the others as he slowly crushed Daelins body. Naran charged silently to Jaces leg and sliced with all his might. The sword sliced through armour and flesh and then out again. Out balanced now, Jace fell to the arena floor, Daelin flying from his grasp. Jaces shield tryed to block Naran, but as soon as the sword touched it, it disapeared.

Naran was on Jaces Torso now, and he was walking to Jaces face. He was dragging the sword behind, slicing armour and chest cleanly. The wound not be mortal, Naran was doing it to inflate pain. He reached Jaces neck, and stared long at the eyes that were wide and scared. Naran jumped off the torso and hacked straight through the neck, half severing it.

The arena began to fade. Naran sliced again, spraying blood all over himself as he completely severed the head. The Arena faded quicker until they were all in the forest again.

Dorin had shrunk to his normal size. Quilton sighed and dropped down onto a rock. Mez closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. Darielle wiped the sweat off of her head. Naran picked up his axe and sheathed it, he still held Daelin's sword. Daelin lay, unmoving on the ground. His body was as it was before the arena. All of the companions noticed one same thing: The Song Of Crimson Harp had stopped.

 

With a sigh that might have been a sob, Daerelle stood. "I know these woods best. You rest while I keep watch." She slipped into the trees and vanished.

Hyman shook his head and glanced around the clearing. He saw Quilton nod in weary thanks as Mez pressed a flask into his hand and draped a blanket around his shoulders before the assassin, too, vanished into woods. Since the paladin could do nothing more for the wizard's bodily needs - and nothing at all for those of a mystical nature - he turned his attention to Daelin.

The tiefling's body bore no dire wounds, only the multitude of gashes and bruises he had received before the real battle had begun. Although his breathing was steady, however, he showed no signs of waking. Hyman swallowed his disgust as he took cloaks and tunics from the elven bodies around the clearing and tore out the cleanest parts to use as bandages. When he finished binding Daelin's wounds, he bowed his head in prayer.

"Great Helm," he muttered, "it is not for myself that I ask this boon. If you find this warrior before you worthy of your blessing, allow me to be the vessel of your healing power. I have served you long..."

His thoughts went on in this vein for some moments, before he found himself drifing into a strange reminiscence of the battle. The events unrolled themselves before him as if he had had no part in it - his body, there on the battlefield, was commanded by another entity as he stood to the side. Hyman's focus was forced away from himself and onto Daelin. Just as he lost all awareness of anything other than the tiefling, the scene exploded in a blaze of light.

Hyman looked up to see Naran laying Daelin's sword down along his right side. "He learned much of honor this day," the orc grunted, then resumed his seat next to Dorin. Nothing would threaten the Psy this evening. Hyman smothered a smile at the sight, realizing the depth of Naran's loyalty. However, as he rolled hiself into a blanket and laid down next to the remains of the fire, he allowed himself to smile at the memory of the shock that exploded from his heart as his vision ended - his fingers still tingled with the power that had flown from him into Daelin. Perhaps there was a way back to grace for even a fallen paladin.

 

A feeling of loss seemed in the poluted stench passing as air at the dock of Valley Death. The group was ready to seperate.

Darielle and Mez decided to journey into the wooded hills to the South. They had horses saddled and supplied for a endless search for an adventure to top the last. Naran was far from dissapointed by Darielle's departure, as he still held a grudge against her, but seeing the masterful assassin, Mez, riding off with her made the Orc feel he needed to vommit.

Mez and Darielle said their good byes along with well-wishing and "good lucks" for the rest of the group. As they rode off Dorin turned towards Naran, "You should forgive her, she has given you no less."

Daelin promptly butted in, "What exactly happened with you two anyways?"

Naran snorted loudly and spat on the mud, "When we first encountered her she was a mere maid. My brothers and I had found her in the remains of an ambushed caravan. I found her under an overturned wagon, and after lifting it over my head to allow her her freedom, she kicked up between my legs." Every male listening, including several passers-by that heard the last statement winced and instinctively checked their crotches to make sure all was in order.

"I bit her on the shoulder but was stopped by a companion before i could go for her soft throat. That drop of Elf-blood on my tounge has made me crave for it every day, and i could not abate it for my fellows wished to travel with her." Naran finshed and took a deep breath, talking took more breath than fighting the orc realized.

After a pause Quilton, Hyman, and Daelin all burst into laughter. Dorin cracked a smile. Naran only scowled, "What's so funny?" he damanded.

"She forgives you for trying to eat her, yet you cannot forgive her for kicking you in the goodies?" Hyman said and held his hands out as if that was all that needed to be said. Naran was no fool and comprehension came when it was so readily supplied to him. He smiled sheepishly and Daelin could've sworn that he saw the creature blushing under the wiry face bristles of the orc.

Naran, Dorin, and Quilton all stepped onto their river boat and prepared to set sail. "We are still searching for a portal back to my world, if you would like to join us." Dorin let the offer hang in the air.

"I think my destiny lies elsewhere, what say you, Paladin?" Daelin asked.

Hyman's armor seemed to glow with his renewed faith. "Alas, I must return to service as a protecter of Helm. A wayward cleric who came to this shanty town looking to convert the evil requires a new bodygaurd after the last was expelled for pillfering donations to frequent a house of ill repute, so i must away. Fair thee well, brave adventurers, and Helm watch overe you with grace." With that the paladin swept around and slapped a new helm upon his head, this one with a gilded fist rising rather than a plume.

as the paladin marched away the four travellers smiled at the man's obvious zealousness. Daelin turned back to Quilton and raised an eyebrow towards the wizard.

"Glad you asked. Dorin has agreed to engage me in discussions regarding magic and its nature in exchange for my help in finding their portal. I have a lead on a portal and an interesting question about the nature of magic in seemingly unmagical things, such as dogs, chickens, deer, bears..." Quilton started enthusiastically.

Dorin swiftly interupted, "And other interesting problems that we magickers will find enthralling and these warriors will pass out out of boredom for. A great mystery you are, Tiefling, i could have unlocked great powers in your mind."

"Which I would no doubt pay for with my service to you as a slave," a subtle glance towards Naran, "I could not serve another so well."

Naran picked up the compliment and accepted it, "I could not brave life without a way to block my thirst for elf, or tiefling, blood. Dorin's enlightenment allows me to do that." Naran stepped forward and clasped his arm with the Tiefling. "Good Journey. Sound judgement. Fare well."

"Yes, fare well." Daelin watched as the trio made their way slowly along the river before he climbed aboard his own steed and rode off into adventure.