1


            The elf squatted easily , using the goblin spear to sketch what he had seen. "There might be lookouts on those towers," he suggested. "But, it didn't look like there was any great ruckus. We still might have the advantage of surprise." He frowned as he handed the spear to Bergi. "I don't care much for that bridge either. It's narrow, and if we get caught on it, we'd be sitting ducks... Some kind of fog would be ideal, but maybe we could find a way to sneak past the guards without raising the entire fort against us."
            "You and I could get across that bridge and kill the guards," offered I'Daiin, his voice a low growl. "There's no way we can all get past them. Goblins will see us coming, even in the darkest night." He looks at the sketch. "I was too hasty to suggest that cave first. Clearly, whatever is in there eats goblins, but won't come out readily. We can save it for later. I say we do a sortie against the fort, and then retreat for the night to lick our wounds and replenish our powers." "And magicks," he said, a bit reluctantly, discomfort in his voice clear.
            "I'Daiin's plan seems sound.I can cover with my bow if possible or accompany you both if there is room" Rhaina said.
            "If I had a bit of time to prepare I could arrange for an obscuring mist," Durriken said, glad to be past the tension and onto the immediate task at hand. "I just need to commune with my goddess to receive her blessing of power.

2


            A short rest later, the party went to peer out of the bramble thicket together. They all saw the rope bridge spanning the gulf between the cliff they stood on and a roundish, flat-topped island sixty-some feet away. Thick patches of nettles and briars grew here and there atop the island, but its most impressive feature was a wooden one-story stockade. Two thirty-foot tall watchtowers guarded the stockade's landward facade. All seemed quiet around the driftwood lump of a fort.
            The rope bridge itself was made of hairy rope and thick wooden planks cobbled together in goblin fashion; the whole thing creaked and swayed in the wet and gusting wind above the churning surf eighty feet below.
            “Normally I’d be fine with suggesting nimble Quickfoot go first, but…er,” Bergi stepped forward and motioned to the bridge, allowing it to creak for itself.
            Durriken prepares the mist spell and steps to the edge of the thicket but does not step out into plain sight. Before he casts he says, "The wind will spread this mist quickly so once it is cast we will have less than a minute to cross."
            He looks at the rickety bridge and then back to the party. "Do you think it will hold us? After all it was made by goblins and they aren't known for their construction quality. Perhaps our more stealthy can cross and take out the lookouts. Then the rest of us will have more time to cross safely."
            "Let me have a look at it then, before you call upon the Lady of Graves." Quickfoot nodded to Bergi and swallowed, then padded forward, inspecting the bridge to see if it looked up to carrying their weight.
            There was really nothing to hide behind except what paltry protection the posts holding the bridge up provided, and Quickfoot could almost feel arrows being loosed on him as he quickly inspected the bridge... but nothing more dangerous than rain fell on him. He found that it was a good thing he had examined the bridge more closely, for it was indeed trapped (either that, or goblins just weren't very good at tying knots). Whatever the case, he could see that the knots holding up one side of the bridge were loose - too much weight, and the rope would slip loose, dropping anyone on the bridge into the churning water far, far below. Other than that, the bridge appeared sound enough to cross, though the large Shoanti in the party might have to step carefully to avoid snapping some of the boards.
            Quickfoot tightened the knots within reach and reported back to the group, warning them of the potential pit-falls of the crossing. "Crossing one at a time might help," he suggested. "If you want my opinion, I'd say Durriken calls his mist, then I'Daiin and Rhaina make their way across. I'll cover the towers from this side with my bow until everyone can get to the other side, then maybe Bergi and I can tighten any other loose knots when we follow. Try the door once you get there," he suggested to the Shoanti, "but try not to make too much noise. Sound good?"
            The Shoanti listened to Quickfoot’s suggestions and nodded in agreement “I will cross first as I certainly weigh less.If you give me time to get halfway over I’Daiin ,before starting that should spread our weight better” Rhaina watched Durriken for his signal and switched language to Shoanti as she prepared to cross “Na e ka hoatu e koe he ki te okioki atu tupono noa, whanaunga, (and that will give you a chance to rest further Cousin)” she added with a wink in I’Daiin’s direction as she strode stealth fully onto the narrow span.
            When the group is ready, Durriken summons the power from Pharasma to cast the obscuring mist spell. A thick heavy mist billows out across the bridge blanketing it momentarily. Turning to the others he says, "Now would be the time to go."

3


            Even the scream of seagulls and the crashing of the surf below was muffled as Rhaina stepped into Durriken's magical fog. There was only the alarming creak of the boards and the sound of her own breathing as the rest of the party vanished from view, leaving just the swaying bridge that seemed to come from and disappear into nothing.
            Edging forward carefully, her hands grasping the rope railing the goblins had provided with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness, she finally stepped out of the cloud and into view of the goblin fort. Her sharp eyes picked up something moving atop the left tower in her peripheral vision, but when she looked again, all was still. Perhaps it had been a bird? She could have sworn she heard a hissed word from somewhere ahead, but like the movement she thought she had seen, there was nothing when she listened harder.
            A shudder in the ropes told her she had tarried long enough for I'Daiin to step onto the boards. Looking back, she spotted real movement, this time on their side of the bridge. There was a lone goblin clinging to the cliff, trying miserably and in vain to climb down the sheer rock.
            Everyone thinks I need to nap like a child, I'Daiin thought irritably. E tu, kaumaata. E moe, kaumaata. He stepped on to the bridge carefully, like a cat, albeit a very large and muscly cat, and stealthier than a person of his size would normally step on a swaying, creaking bridge of questionable construction.
            The paladin slowed her progress,thinking about the whispers she had heard,the movement on the tower and the presence of a climber on the landward side that she had just seen Speaking in Shoanti , Rhaina turned on her heels and moved back towards the fog,with the intention of returning to the safe side “ He he whanaunga mahanga. Hoki atu inaianei, ahau e hoki ahau” (It is a Trap Cousin,turn back Now,I am returning)
            Quickfoot poked his head out of the fog, and seeing Rhaina returning and the goblin clinging to the landward side of the cliff, raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Ah, I'Daiin, is that the goblin that you let go?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Didn't he jump over the side?" Turning to the goblin, Quickfoot trained an arrow on its unprotected back <"Quiet now little one, it's a long way down to fall."> With a further smile for Rhaina, he added "That is, assuming we don't want him announcing our presence to the rest of the fort..."
            I'Daiin froze in the mist, peering for the goblin in question, and slowly drew his sling. Rather than advance or retreat, he decided to hold his ground and see if Quickfoot could pick off the cliff climber.
            Rhaina shuffled up to her fellow Shoanti,her smile clear even through the mist “Kei te tatari ratou mo a matou whanaunga. Rongo ahau e muhumuhu Ngaro ana i muri i te kuwaha, a ka kite i te kaupapa kotahi o te pourewa Te auraa e ratou ki te mahanga a matou i waenganui i nga taiepa, me te kuwaha i tapahi i te piriti. E kia piri matou, a ka parie nei au ia he nui atu k? atu i puta te reira i te kuwaha” (“They are waiting for us Cousin. I heard hushed whispers behind the gate and saw movement on one of the towers They meant to trap us between the walls and the gate by cutting the bridge. We would be stuck,and I will bet the gate is more sturdy than it appears)
            The bridge sagged alarmingly with the three standing together in the middle of it, but the planks held for the present. Quickfoot was able to pick off the helpless and hapless goblin easily, and its body fell into the tide surging against the rocks below. The mist the party stood by, however, was drifting apart quickly.
            "One side or the other!" Quickfoot hissed through clenched teeth, "but no one else gets on that bridge until the rest of you get off! Can't you see it's about to collapse!" Quickfoot's head whipped back and forth in obvious agitation, scanning the towers and crude wooden walls for goblin sign. "If they know we're coming, we can retreat and hold them at the bridge, but we should at least try the gate!"
            “I am unconvinced that assaulting them when they know we’re coming is a wise course ,but I will do as you suggest and try the gate” That said the Paladin moved quickly to the Fort side of the bridge
            "Are we attacking the fort? I am confused. Also, what about the goblin attempting to climb down? Shouldn't someone do something about him?" Durriken shakes his head and mumbles to no one in particular, "Field combat is very confusing. How does anyone get anything done?"
            The barbarian gingerly made his way across the bridge, eyes smoldering. "Rhaina, thank you for the warning, but if you had caused the bridge to snap under our combined weight, I would be pestering you in the Shadowlands for all eternity." He looked at the door, seeking a way to pummel it open.
            As soon as Rhaina and I'Daiin approached the fort side of the swaying bridge, it became apparent that Rhaina was right - the goblins had planned an ambush. One made the mistake Gogmurt had made and ignored Rhaina and her bow to rush to the side of the bridge, jump off its goblin dog and begin tugging at the ropes, while the other goblins burst out of hiding on their goblin dogs and milled about in front of the bridge, singing and yelling and brandishing dogslicers as those in front closed on the Shoanti. Goblins appeared atop the towers, with those on the right yelling words only Quickfoot and Bergi could understand: <"Not yet! Not yet!">
            And with that, the last of Durriken's concealing mist blew away, revealing the jeering goblins on the island to the Pharasmin and Bergi as well.

4


            "Gods above, I am a fool." Inaudibly cursing himself under his breath, Quickfoot sent an arrow at the goblin untying the ropes before charging forward. The elf drew his rapier as he went, racing to the front of the bridge before more of the goblins could attack the precarious crossing.
            His arrow took the goblin in the chest, and it dropped even as the elf charged forward, nimble on the wildly jerking and swaying rain-slick bridge. A goblin arrow pierced his leg, another penetrated Rhaina's arm, and then the goblin dog-riders surged forward over their fallen nestmate, slashing at Quickfoot and letting their dogs snap at him. His unseen armor took the brunt of it, and he ably avoided the rest. The goblins bottlenecked in the small area between the thornbushes, shoving and darting at the elf on the bridge. The goblins on the left tower threw javelins, neither of which came close to hitting.
            "Well, here's a handful of fools and a fort full of goblins," said I'Daiin conversationally as he moved up to squeeze next to Quickfoot on the edge of the bridge, swinging two-handedly at the nearest goblin with his longsword. "Here is what we do, fellow fool. We kill these ones outside of the gate, and then we barricade them inside. And then leave, to lick our wounds." He struck down the incautious dog-riding goblin before him with ease, leaving only its mount to snarl and snap over its body.
            Bergi stared at the bridge in front of her, mentally jousting to see if she could take advantage of the situation at all. She couldn't come up with anything too feasible, being that the brilliant idea to cut the goblins off at the bridge (literally) would stop her party, too. She loaded her shortbow and tried to provide coverfire for Quickfoot, at least. Her arrow whizzed past the goblins in the right tower, making them duck behind the crooked planks with shouts of alarm.
            Looking over the bridge as the combat starts, Durriken listens to the sounds of his companions as the bicker about placement on the bridge. "I am not sure I have adequately prepared for this sort of combat. Is it always this chaotic?" he says to anyone still near him. Looking at his weapons he decides that is best to wait for the bridge to clear before moving to close the distance to the fort.
            After being all but ordered to cross the bridge,despite maintaining it was a trap; as well as being told to “not crowd together” the Paladin looked quizzically at the somewhat strange behaviour exhibited by the two males. She pondered mentioning it,but decided instead to keep silent
            ”Not too sure the Elf appreciates my opinion “she mused silently,while aiming an arrow at one of the Goblins in the back rank Unable to gain a clear shot at the milling goblins between her two friends, she provided cover fire for Quickfoot at the goblins aiming at him from the towers.
            Quickfoot stabbed at the remaining mounted goblin, a forced grin plastered on his face. "Rhaina," he called over his shoulder, "I'm sure this isn't the best time, but, should we happen to survive this fracas, I promise to listen the next time you warn us we're walking into a trap!"
            Feinting with the bow in his off hand, his rapier pierced the goblin's shoulder through a chink in its cobbled-together armor made from what appeared to be pots and pans, and it yelped in pain.
            The cover fire Rhaina and Bergi were providing kept the tower goblins too busy to aim properly, and their missiles came nowhere near striking the party. The mounted goblins behind the front fighters, however, realized they couldn't reach their enemies and sheathed their dogslicers, drawing bows instead. They concentrated their fire on the hulking I'Daiin, but between his armor and thick hide, only one of their arrows managed to scratch him.
            He lopped off one of the goblin dog's legs in retaliation, and the shrieking animal tried to get away, but was cornered between the press of yelling goblins behind it and its enemies. It turned on I'Daiin with a snarl, but was far too clumsy on three legs to bite the Shoanti.
            Bergi continued to provide covering fire for Quickfoot. Not being a crack shot, she had to be content with whatever distraction she could manifest. "You gob-gobs marksmanship leave much to be desired! Like bowstrings and arrows that can hit horse teat!" The young Kauflebaum shouted in goblin by way of taunting sing-song... though it lacked any magical properties.
            She sent another arrow sailing at the tower, but it was caught by the wind and blown off course. Her carrying voice projected across the gap, and the goblins in the tower jumped up and down and shook their bows at her. Their lungs weren't powerful enough to carry their insults back to her over the wind, waves and gulls (not to mention the other screaming goblins), though.
            Standing with Bergi on one side of the bridge, the cleric wonders what he can contribute. Charging forward would do nothing for the group's efforts. He looked at his sling on his belt. With the distance, the wind and the walls protecting them, the goblins had little to fear from that sort of attack. Until there was an opening from the bridge, moving forward was not a sound plan. Faced with few options, Durriken stood his ground hoping for an opening to contribute.
            I’Daiin heard a familiar female voice snarling in Shoanti from just behind him “Ki te taea e koe pana tetahi o ratou hoki whanaunga, ka taea e ahau laka ki mua, me te kia o etahi awhina; hei utu mo te mahue i roto i tenei whawhai”
            Rhaina kept covering her friends with her bow. Quickfoot tried to spit the goblin before him, but it kicked its goblin dog in the ribs and jerked out of reach. A hail of arrows descended on the fighters - but not one of them struck. However, one of the goblins managed to give Quickfoot a long scrape with a javelin.
            I'Daiin buried his sword in the goblin dog facing him, and it collapsed to the ground, bleeding. Quicker than the rest, the one in the back ranks jumped forward to snap at him, but he rebuffed it with a shallow cut that made its high-pitched yelp even more annoying.
            Bergi continued to provide cover for Quickfoot, snapping an arrow at the goblins in the right-hand tower. As the party continues to try to push forward, Durriken notes the wounds are starting to pile up on his friends. Finally deciding to act, he steps out on the bridge cautiously, trying not to look down at the water that seems to be so far down. Instead he fixes his eyes on the backs of his friends and inches he way forward.
            The bridge swayed violently as those at the other end of it fought, making Durriken clutch the guideropes to steady himself. Between the unsure footing of the sagging bridge and his restrictive armor, it took him longer than he expected to edge forward.
            Seeing that I’Daiin could not push forward Rhaina turned to the Elf “Quickfoot,I think your bow would be more effective than mine back here.If you would step back I will fill the gap and perhaps we can move them back”
            With a parting slash for the goblin before him, Quickfoot assented to Rhaina's plan and stepped out of the fray. He tucked his rapier back into his baldric and prepared to make use of his bow once more.
            Quickfoot's blade laid open the goblin's face, and it yowled as Rhaina took Quickfoot's place with her temple sword drawn and jingling. She stabbed the bleeding goblin that was busy holding its face together, then turned and gave the goblin dog beside it a deep gash as the goblin fell off its own mount.
            The goblins, frightened by her prowess, turned their bows on her, but her invisible armor deflected all but one of their arrows. However, an incredibly lucky throw by one of the goblins in the left tower gave her a shallow gash with a javelin.
            "Come on up, cousin," grunted the barbarian, stabbing again at the goblin dog with his longsword and attempting to advance. "We must clear this ledge before we get something dropped on us from the ramparts."
            He finished off the wounded goblin dog and stepped over its body onto firm ground once more. The startled goblins yelled warnings and fumbled with their bows as their mounts snapped at I'Daiin. One managed to give him a vicious bite, leaving a coating of stinking slobber on the wound. The goblin dog whose rider Rhaina had cut down sank its teeth into her leg and worried it, giving her a nasty, foam-specked wound as well.
            Bergi switched her guard to Rhaina, shooting at the guard towers when the goblins in them aimed at the Shoanti woman.
            When Durriken reaches the mid-point of the bridge he calls upon Pharasma's magic once again unleashing a wave of healing magic towards his friends while trying to keep the enemy outside of its radius. Just as things were looking bad for the fighters, Durriken's prayer was heard. The wind gusted cold for a moment, chilling and healing Durriken, Quickfoot and Rhaina all at once. I'Daiin, who stood over the fallen, did not feel Pharasma's chill on his bare skin.
            Off the front lines, Quickfoot fitted an arrow to his bowstring, and aimed at one of the goblins on the eastern tower, loosing his shot in a smooth motion before stepping up behind I'Daiin. His arrow buried itself in the rampart beside one of the bowmen's faces, making the goblin duck down with a colorful curse having to do with Quickfoot's unlikely ancestry with a horse.
            The Paladin saw that her cousin was beset by three of the foe and her path was blocked by a rider less dog. In a blur of movement ,Rhaina struck twice at the dog and hoped to then proceed forward to give the Goblins two Shoanti to worry them Her rapid-fire attack confused the animal, and she put it down with no trouble, stepping forward - only to face an attack from another goblin dog. It lunged up to strike at her arm, leaving deep fang-gashes filled with stinking slobber. But even that bad bite was nothing compared to the mauling I'Daiin received. While the goblins abandoned their bows to slash in ineffectual alarm with their dogslicers, their reeking goblin dogs ripped bloody chunks from the powerful Shoanti man.
            Snarling in pain from the savage bites of the dogs, I'Daiin countered with a wild strike from his longsword. "Rhaina, we have to leave," he said pragmatically. His sword gashed a goblin dog badly, and it yelped and began to struggle to retreat, fighting its rider.
            Watching I'Daiin get ripped into certainly changed Bergi's prime directive. As such, she retrained her rapidly-dwindling ammunition to his enemies to give him a small amount of relief. Her arrow zipped past one of the goblins in the right-hand tower, foiling its shot.
            Durriken prepares to move back towards Bergi's side of the bridge but waits to see if I'Daiin moves close enough to him to provide more healing before he does move. "Bergi, would you be so kind as to cover our retreat?" he says, turning to face the halfling as he starts to make is way back to her side of the bridge.
            "Come on Durriken, it's time to get off this bridge!" Quickfoot cried out as he made his way back to the cliff-side of the swaying passage. "We'll hold it from our end and regroup, but we need to clear a path for I'Daiin and Rhaina!"
            The elf chivvied the priest along as he made his way back, saying "Make ready to heal them when they get to the other side."
            The goblins cheered wildly as Quickfoot and Durriken fled. Emboldened, they assaulted the Shoanti with renewed vigor. One of the goblin dogs tried to latch onto Rhaina's leg, but a kick in the face drove it back.
            The Shoanti chose not to react to the grunt of pain from the Sklar warrior at her side and focussed on what needed to be done Durriken”,she shouted”If Pharasma can spare us more of her healing grace,both I’Daiin and myself would be grateful” The Paladin called upon Saranrae’s mercy to give her the strength to see this battle through just as she launched a quick strike at two of the Goblins,hoping to convince them to give way
            The manic little bastards were too quick to hit, and between them and their ratlike goblin dogs, they managed to inflict a number of smaller wounds on both her and I'Daiin instead. The nicks and nips were minor, but they added up, and the two Shoanti could feel their strength flagging under the constant assaults.
            <"Meat cake! Meat cake!"> the goblins sang together in their own tongue. <"Slice them up and eat them! Best bits the goblin takes who's quickest to defeat them!">
            The Paladin watched out of the corner of her eye,the movement of her remaining comrade,speaking as clearly as her limited wind permitted: “E ti'a ia tatou ki te waiho tahi tuahine, tetahi o ratou i ahei te porowhitahia me te ?rai i to tatou hokinga ranei” (Translation:We need to leave together cousin,or one of them could circle and block our retreat)
            "Another day, goblins, and well blooded," coughed the barbarian, dripping blood from innumerable cuts and slashes as he followed Rhaina in a lurching run across the bridge, breaking off combat. "This was not our finest hour," he said to no one in particular.
            As first I'Daiin, then Rhaina made a fighting withdrawal, the goblins cheered wildly. A few arrows whizzed after the Shoanti, but it was the triumphant singing of the Thistletop goblins that really stung. Fortunately, the goblins immediately jumped off their mounts and began to squabble over the possessions of their fallen comrades rather than pursuing the fleeing party.

5


            The party moved deeper into the dubious safety of the bramble warren, and Durriken called on Pharasma's aid to heal the worst of their hurts.
            The hulking barbarian glowered, his eyes narrowing. "We are at a supreme disadvantage. With the coming of night, they can come across that bridge, see in the dark, and slay us. We could cut the bridge, but they are better climbers than us. We can't draw them out with hostages, and they surely have plenty of food." He paced, thinking.
            Quickfoot kept his eyes and bow trained on the goblins and their putrescent mounts. "A torch, or better yet a lantern will even the odds when night falls. But how can they be better climbers than us? They have such short little arms..." The elf thought for a moment, a frown on his lips, "We could start shooting at them now, see how they like crossing a rickety bridge with arrows falling on them... The goblins are cunning, and I was too hasty going across, but we've bloodied them as well, and they haven't had the healing we have. I hate to think this fight is over now..."
            "If we can fool them onto the bridge, I could grease it to try and have them fall off, but not everyone will slip." Bergi scrutinized her quiver. "Perhaps I should have brought a sling. Even my remaining use is beginning to dwindle. "
            The Paladin listened with interest as the discussion went back and forth and offered to assist getting some extra arrows for Bergi “What if we did all the things that were suggested? she added waiting for them to turn and listen
            “We quickly grab some arrows for Bergi and begin firing at the Goblins we can see.Either they withdraw or they get overconfident,seeing as they just”Drove us off” “If they start across,Bergi can grease this end of the bridge and when the others stop to avoid the greased section,we cut thr bridge to take out the remaining ones still out on it”
            She turned to Quickfoot;a conciliatory expression on her lovely face”I know we want to go back,but remember;they planned to drop the bridge on us so they must have a way to reattach either end and we also get to take out a few extra for our efforts and give ourselves time to retreat safely and either camp or head back to the village” She shrugged and pulled a piece of dried beef from her pack and took a long draught from her waterskin as she waited for the answer
            Durriken listens to the offered plans and says, "I do not think we have enough to tackle the fort should we be able to rid ourselves of the ones we can see. I suggest we withdraw to town and replenish and heal before attempting this again. They might be more alert but if we can return quickly enough perhaps they will not be able to reinforce. After all, spellcasters must be hard to come by in their culture since they aren't the most learned species."
            "I agree with Durriken," grumbled the barbarian. "We must rest and recover. Little beasts! We should have known they breed like maggots in rot."
            “Even if we don’t fire on them to draw some onto the bridge,I think we do need to cut it ,to give us a chance to get away cleanly” Rhaina said.
            "I agree, though I hate to admit it," Quickfoot grumbled. "That bridge is the problem. Let's gather up the arrows for Bergi and send a few shafts after those goblins and their rat-dogs before we regroup. I'll stay here and make sure they don't try to cross the bridge behind us. Who want's to stay with me?
            The elf turned to Bergi, and managed to summon up a reasonable rendering of his absent grin. "You be careful of those goblins we left tied up If any of them look at you cross-eyed, just stick that spear into their bellies."
            “Fair enough.” Bergi said, mirroring her companion’s half-smile. “I’ll make sure they haven’t used their flaming oculi to herald a new green age.”
            “Since I have a bow and can support as well as a rather large rope cutting sword in case they get too close;but on second thought why don’t you and I and Durriken fire at them. Bergi can ready her spell and I’Daiin stands ready to cut the ropes if they charge and look like they’ll be able to cross.” Rhaina shrugged “Or to simplify and get us to a Alehouse sooner,we could simply cut them now. I am fine with either choice”
            "While we debate this topic, the goblins will begin to organize once they have picked the bones of their fallen. I suggest that we take whatever course of action is most expedient to our departure with the least likeliest chance of a rear attack from goblins." Durriken said.
            "Right you are, Durriken. let's be about this now." Quickfoot pressed close to the thorny walls of the warren, hoping to take advantage of a hidden shot. "Aim for the mounts," he suggested in a low voice. Without them the goblins aren't nearly so tough."
            Bergi was quick upon returning to the area strewn with goblin arrows, salvaging what she needed with aplomb. When it was time, she took her place, holding her ferreted butter at the ready.
            "I have no bow," growled the barbarian, but went along anyhow.
            Once everyone was in position, Quickfoot nodded to Rhaina, and once everyone was ready, he began to shoot.

6


            The goblins left in a pile remained unconscious and gave Bergi no trouble. When the party was ready, the Shoanti and Quickfoot moved up to the mouth of the warren and began to shoot, while Bergi cast her spell on the wet bridge itself. The goblins in the towers jumped up and down, pointing and yelling.
            Between the wind and the range to the island, the party's first arrows went wide, and then the manic little goblins leapt onto their mounts and, just as expected, charged toward the mainland. The first one hit the greased spot Bergi had created and went skidding off the bridge with a mixed howl and scream. The others pulled up short, but it was too late - I'Daiin swung his sword and cut one side of the ropes, spilling the goblin dogs and one goblin into the churning water far below. The other goblin managed to grab onto the guideropes, struggling to hang on.
            A second slashing cut, and the bridge fell free, the last goblin shrieking all the way to where the rickety rope bridge smacked into the stone of the island, where it was jarred loose and dropped into the pounding surf with the others.
            The same wind that had foiled their attacks now protected them from the fury of the tower goblins, who shot arrows and flung javelins in frothing rage, none of which came close to striking the party.
            The Paladin’s heart momentarily grieved at the loss of life,but reasoned that they were Goblins and weren’t ever going to be anything but enemies,so she said nothing more
            Quickfoot helped I'Daiin check and link the bindings on the goblins, tying the goblins together in a small chain gang in preparation for the march back to Sandpoint.
            "Bergi, Quickfoot. Is there a bounty on goblins? We should purchase some items for getting to that blasted fort. Rope and grapnels, I think, and I'm not sure what else." I'Daiin went from goblin to goblin, firmly checking their bindings. "We should march these fellows quickly."
            During the tying of the Goblins into a chain ,Rhaina looked over each of them in turn
            The band of friends made their way out of the clutching thorns of the goblin warren, following the goblin runs through the wet and silent Nettlewood, headed back to Sandpoint.

7


            It took some effort and time to wake the ten wounded goblins and get them moving, but eventually the party headed back through the Nettlewood with their moaning, crying and wailing prisoners. They couldn't march nearly as quickly as I'Daiin would have liked, but whenever a few goblins tried to make a run for it, the others would try to scatter in a different direction and they ended up fighting each other. Inadvertently, they showed the party a way through the mazelike goblin runs, and by evening the party drew a crowd in Sandpoint as the townsfolk cheered at their return and booed the unhappy goblins. Some threw rocks and spat at the little monsters, who snarled and snapped as they dragged their feet in the dirt.
            Sheriff Hemlock had the goblins locked in the cells beneath the barracks, then motioned for the party to follow him into his office. Shutting the door behind them, he asked, "Is this all that remains of the threat? If it is, Sandpoint owes you more thanks than we could possibly repay."
            "Nay, Sherrif," said I'Daiin, looking the fellow Shoanti squarely in the eye. "We slew many and brought these back for safe-keeping, but the goblins yet occupy the fort, in great numbers. They sought to drop a bridge out from under us, but we did the same to them. They will no doubt repair it by the time we return, but we plan to scale Thistletop's walls from a seaward side, or some such."
            "That is ill news indeed - but made much better by your determination to deal with them. I do not know exactly where Thistletop lies, but if they are expecting a land-based attack, striking from the sea seems a good idea."
            The Paladin watches the exchange between I’Daiin and the Sheriff,studying Belor closely and approaching after her”Cousin” replies to his question
            “Pai tutaki, whanaunga,”, she switches to Common after greeting him in Shoanti “I am Rhaina Silverhair of the Tamiir-Quah and I must say it shows remarkable and unexpected good judgement for a Chelish town to appoint one of our people to protect them. She grins widely,a chuckle warming her voice “I might even have to start considering liking some of them” With that she shudders in mock revulsion at her own words “Can’t believe I just said that,”And she winks at I’Daiin
            The faintest flicker of a smile crossed the Sheriff's otherwise dour face, gone so quickly it might have been imagination. "Yes, Amismara told me of you. We here in Sandpoint are grateful for the aid you offer."
            "Chelish? I thought they were Varisians... It can be hard to tell with humans, though" Quickfoot added, mostly to himself. "Give your people a few generations and they'll probably be calling themselves something entirely different." he added helpfully. "At least, that's what mom always said," he concluded with a grin.
            Turning back to the matter at hand, Quickfoot agreed with I'Daiin. "Hopefully we've bought ourselves some time, Sheriff, and the goblins will have their hands full trying to rebuild their bridge to the mainland, but we have no idea how many are still in that fort. If we could get some information out of these captives, well, that would make it a lot easier to plan our assault. What do you think?"
            "It's a good strategy," Hemlock agreed. "We certainly haven't had any luck with getting Tsuto to talk. You're free to talk to them at any time - I'll let Vachedi know you're coming down. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."
            After her apparent gaff with the Sheriff,the Paladin said nothing more,not caring to offend anyone else;though she is unsure why he reacted as he did
            She excused herself at the gaol indicating she was heading to see the Temple “I hear it is beautiful,and it has been a while since I knelt in a House of the Dawnflower” She turned to the others”Where should I meet you?”
            “Well, the Rusty Dragon seems to be the go-to place for adventurers. That is where I’ll be, and I’m willing to reach for the wren and say Quickfoot will be there, too. It’s a tavern and inn, you see.” Bergi said.

8


            Rhaina did not ask her new comrades,but did not refuse any company as she made her way into the magnificent structure
            She gave a full introduction of herself to whomever is in charge within and asked if she was permitted to look around”My name is Rhaina Silverhair of the Tamiir-Quah and I am a Paladin in the service of the Dawnflower. I have come to Sandpoint by order of the Goddess,” she added in case it was not obvious for a Paladin to travel so.
            An awestruck, pimply-faced acolyte assured her that she was welcome in a breaking voice. "A real paladin! I'll get Father Zantus right away!" he squeaked, rushing off.
            Rhaina watched with bemusement as the young man retreated in search of the Priest and as she crossed into the building she turned hearing a familiar voice
            "Rhaina? I thought I saw you come in! So you all made it out!" Amismara's low, slightly raspy voice was unmistakable. She strode from the shrine of Shelyn, the lanternlight highlighting her worried face. She paused a few steps away, suddenly hesitant. "I mean, you all did, didn't you? I felt terrible about leaving you there, but..." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't take it anymore. Too much ugliness I couldn't change. But you're all alright?" Lowering her voice, she added, "Is the goblin threat dealt with?"
            “Greetings my Friend.Yes we have returned all but unharmed;if a bit battered,she admitted with chagrin “We brought back some prisoners and we cut the bridge to their fort,though the main part of their strength remains untouched for the moment.
            She held out her hand in welcome to the Priestess “I believe that there is some coin and other treasures which you and the others recovered before Durriken and myself joined you. Bergi mentioned that they would be meeting at the Rusty Dragon,wherever that is. She looked up hopefully at the Shelynite “Perhaps after I have spoken to the Zantus, you would guide me there?”
            "I'm afraid I've agreed to perform some duties for the Shelynites in town before I leave, so I can't go just now. I'm sorry." Amismara smiled sadly at Rhaina. "As for any treasures, I've given what I found to the cathedral - if there is any more, please take it and put it to good use. I had heard of your prisoners - that was well done! I suppose I should have expected it in so devoted a follower of Sarenrae. You've certainly done her more honor than I've done Shelyn in this mess. I just couldn't find the beauty in it all."
            She turned her head in the direction of the church building that abutted the cathedral. "Ah, I see Father Zantus is coming. I'll leave you to speak with him, and perform your devotional. Don't worry, you won't have any trouble finding the Rusty Dragon. It's right on the south road out of town." Amismara clasped Rhaina's hand in a quick blessing, then turned to return to the shrine to Shelyn.
            Father Zantus came out to greet Rhaina as well, with a few gangly, wide-eyed acolytes in tow. "It isn't often we have the honor of a visiting paladin," he said with a smile. "I hope you will indulge an old priest in his curiosity? Come, walk with me and I will show you our new cathedral. I'm quite impressed with it myself, as I'm sure you'll see! And perhaps you will answer a few of my questions, as well."
            As Zantus entered;his flock in attendance,the Paladin turned to greet him,her brightest smile and a deep bow in response to his words”I would be honored Good Father. It is indeed a praiseworthy structure to be certain and as to your questions it would be my pleasure to be of service to a servant of the Gods of Light. Afterwards I will seek the comfort of The Everlight,before rejoining my new comrades”
            Father Zantus gave her a tour of the new cathedral, proud as a new father and chatting all the while. In the end, he shooed away his acolytes and quietly asked how the goblin hunt had gone. "Amismara had nothing but good to say of you. It seems the gods smile on Sandpoint now, in our darkest hour, to send us a stream of Heroes to protect us. May Desna bless you as well, my child, and may Sarenrae light your way." Then he, too, left Rhaina to spend time at the candlelit shrine of Sarenrae, its tall stained-glass windows reaching into the darkness near the ceiling.
            After she had taken the time to enjoy the visit,she spent time renewing herself through prayer and then headed back to the spot the others had told her to come to

9


            Ameiko was happy to extend her invitation to sleep and eat at the Rusty Dragon for free to the party's new members, on the condition that they told her all about their foray into the heart of the goblin lands. Though she kept up a cheery front, it was clear to Bergi, at least, that Tsuto's fate was weighing on her.
            Once ensconced in a booth at the Rusty Dragon, Quickfoot relayed all he had seen and done in the Nettlewood, although he did not linger over the retelling of his execution of the goblin shaman. When he was finished telling his tale, he asked after Tsuto. "Have you been to see your brother, Ameiko? Has he told you why he would do this to the town, and what he hoped to accomplish by stealing you away? Do you think he's been in the goblin fort? If we knew what lies beyond those walls, it would help quite a bit."
            Ameiko's cheery mask slipped a little, and she sat down with them, looking tired. "He won't even talk to me," she said wearily, pent-up hurt in her voice. "He thinks I betrayed him! I just... I don't know what to do." She rubbed her face, wiping away tears. "I'm pretty sure that he's been in the fort, at least if that journal of his was even remotely true. I wish I could help you, but... it's like he's a different person than the one I knew. He's so angry... and he acts like he doesn't have a friend in the world, other than... than Nualia."
            Despite her meager stature and general lack of strength, Bergi bent her fork. That she was indulging in a fantasy of jamming it into Tsuto’s left hand while screaming at him about this injustice might have been obvious to Bethana. She knew it was wrong, but there it was anyway.
            Still, she was the last person who could convince the psychotic Kaijitsu anything about his sister’s loyalties. One obviously had to be a buxom god-touched to do that.
            “Ameiko,” Bergi murmured, rubbing her temple in the familiar fashion. “I’m sorry.” She abandoned her meal to give the barkeep a hug.
            Ameiko returned her friend's hug tightly, and even managed a watery smile when Bergi released her (though she hung on to the halfling's hand). "I just wish someone could get through to him, convince him... well, I'm not sure it matters now. Not after what he's done." She looked away, unwilling to discuss Tsuto's likely fate after having murdered their father and the Glassworks workers. Her grip tightened on Bergi's hand, though not painfully so.
            Durriken is glad to be back in Sandpoint and rid of the goblins. Their constant bickering and fighting on the way back was rather unsettling and played on his nerves already rather wrecked from his first foray into true battle. As the group sat at the supper table, the cleric ate lightly and listened to the information on the group's previous exploits in the Glassworks and the exchange with Ameiko in particular. He had thanked the innkeeper for her generous hospitality earlier and was saddened to see how her brother's betrayal had obviously hurt her. "I am very sorry to hear of your brother's situation. It is always a difficult matter when family sways from the path of their kin. Perhaps he has been swayed magically? Maybe he is protecting something or someone he is convinced will give him more than he had with his family."
            "I'm afraid that wouldn't be hard. He didn't have the easiest childhood, even before our mother died," Ameiko said sadly. "I guess I'm Lady Kaijitsu now," she continued in a hollow voice, looking down. "I only wish there was some magic forcing him to do this. I'd best go to Magnimar for his trial, once he's sent off. I imagine Belor doesn't have anyone to spare to take him until..." She swallowed. "Until you Heroes are finished with Thistletop. I've been spreading the word that you're out slaying all the enemies of Sandpoint, and bringing those goblins in didn't hurt, either. People need to see justice carried out."
            "Thank you for that, Ameiko," Quickfoot said in a low voice with lowered eyes. "For all your help. I wish there was some way we could get through to your brother, but take heart, people can change. Just look at me, a few more good deeds and I'll be a model, upright citizen!" He offered a small smile, hoping that his jest might raise the beautiful woman's spirits even a small fraction. "And don't worry, when the time comes, we can get your brother to Magnimar if that's what it takes." Quickfoot slid Tsuto's earrings across the table to his sister. "These were his. It doesn't seem right to keep them. Would you like them, Ameiko?"
            Ameiko accepted the earrings, clutching them hard in her hand. When she looked up, it was as though she'd never really seen Quickfoot before. "Thank you, Quickfoot. This means more to me than you know." She looked around at all of them, and sat up straighter, her jaw firming. "Thank all of you. Consider the Rusty Dragon your home away from home. Your money is no good here."
            Rhaina had not meant to eavesdrop on the conversation between her new friend Bergi and this “Lady Kaijitsu,but having heard what she had,that Paladin had little choice regarding her response
            “Hello Bergi,Durriken,please forgive me for overhearing what was spoken.I had approached the bar hoping merely for a pitcher and a meal. I spoke with Amismara at the Temple and informed her that we were all well and that there was a share of what was taken here for her,though she declined my offer to accompany me here”
            Rhaina held out her hand to the lovely lady at their table. “My name is Rhaina Silverhair; I am a Paladin in the service of Saranrae.How may I help or is there nothing you believe that I may do ?
            "Rhaina! Be welcome!" Quickfoot called out as he slid out a chair with his booted foot for the holy warrior. "Rhaina's a paladin" he whispered conspiratorially to Ameiko, "although I never met a paladin that dressed like that, not that I ever met a paladin until I met her, but still, one hears the word paladin, and thinks, well, paladin. You know, knight in shining armor on a great big horse. At any rate" he continued, "Rhaina's an excellent shot, and great at punching goblins. She was a big help to us out in the Nettlewood, and seems to be sticking around, just like Durriken!" he grinned effusively.
            "Rhaina, this is Ameiko, or Lady Kaijitsu if you're feeling formal. She's the owner and proprietress of this fine establishment, and an all around marvelous person. Unfortunately, her brother's not half so nice, and is currently locked up after trying to abscond with her back to Thistletop. He seems to be in league with some kind of demon lady, who's also from Sandpoint, and frankly, sounds like quite the nasty customer. She's probably somewhere on Thistletop too, and a bugbear, and maybe a clockwork demon army..." He trailed off, realizing that he had just said many things in public that might have been better kept private.
            Ameiko dropped her face into her hand for a moment. "And here I thought I'd heard the last about clockwork undead demon armies," she sighed. With a faint smile at Quickfoot, she offered Rhaina her hand. "Thank you for your offer, but unless you're a judge at my brother's trial, I'm afraid there's not much you can do."
            Durriken looks sympathetically to Ameiko as she explains the situation with her brother, "Sometimes time away gives people clarity that is impossible while still under a bad influence. Perhaps once he is away from this demon woman he will see the errors of his way."
            I'Daiin glowers and looks down at his cup. "Justice must still be served, Durriken. Lady Kaijutsu, we have not formally met. I am I'Daiin of the Sklar-Quah, and indebted to Bergi and Quickfoot for rescuing me beneath the Glassworks. We slew many a twisted beast down there; agents of the Mother of Monsters have been busy at work. I am sorry for your brother, but I am sure you understand we can afford little mercy for the forces that threaten your Sandpoint. Evil must be routed down to the very root, is that not right, cousin?" He broke his scowl with a fierce grin that spoke of more killing as he addressed Rhaina. Ameiko looked as though she was trying to think of some other explanation for her brother's behavior than "he's evil," but wasn't able to come up with one before I'Daiin continued.
            "Now!" I'Daiin barked and stamped the table with a meaty hand, causing all the drinks to jump and splash. "What must needs be done before we round up more goblins? And a bugbear; I'd like to match swords with the likes of that."
            Ameiko rose, gathering a few mugs from their table with a determined air. "You sound like Shalelu. She's always going on about that bugbear, Bruthazmus. Pity she hasn't come back through town yet - I'm sure she'll die of envy if she hears you've cleared out Thistletop without her."
            Rhaina returned her cousin’s grin with equal fervour ,thinking with him about the upcoming conflict. She turned to the others,including the Lady “I would like to hear what we know regarding this “Demon Woman” and if your brother is the one who knows more,do you think it might be worthwhile for Durriken and myself to pay him a visit and hope to convince him to act in his best interests and tell us what he knows regarding this person?” She shrugged(A very Shoanti gesture) “But perhaps that has been tried,or is known to be a useless endeavour”
            "Nualia was an orphan raised by Father Zantus, and blessed by Desna. Bergi can probably tell you more about her than I can." Balancing an armful of mugs, Ameiko gave Rhaina a considering look. "As for getting through to Tsuto, maybe he'll talk to someone other than me, but I wouldn't hold my breath. He can be so stubborn!" She shook her head in frustration, and headed back to the bar to work. Bergi knew that Ameiko drowned a lot of her woes in work.
            “I would be more than willing to talk with him and perhaps Durriken could as well. We are new faces to him and he might open up if we can convince him that the consequences could be affected by some form of cooperation. Mind you I’m not talking about his trial” She added hastily”Cold blooded murder is still evil,but I would like to get a sense of just how evil he is and anything new that he gives us is something we don’t have as of now” He brow furrowed for a moment in thought”I just cannot see these idiot Goblins coming up with all this planning on their own and we could be walking into much worse tomorrow if I am right” What do you think?”
            Unwilling to stop what seemed a healthy coping skill compared to some, Bergi watched the woman cross the room before clearing her throat. “She was, as Ameiko said, blessed. There was something enchanting about her, and I’ll admit I idolized her just like many others. She was beautiful, graceful, and hard to approach. We believed she perished in the old church fire along with her beloved father and mourned accordingly.” “Now she has chosen to change her body into a demonic form and has given her soul to some dark patron. Sandpoint’s destruction is one of her goals.” Bergi pinched her face together. “I would have preferred Quickfoot’s armies: a punch to the face more than a dagger to the back. Not that we could expect anything more from Tsuto. It’s not a likely thing, charming him, Rhaina.”
            Quickfoot nodded along as Rhaina suggested talking to Tsuto again. “Yes, he doesn’t know you or Durriken at all. Maybe you two could get him to open up, maybe tell him you’re there to see justice done and want to hear his side of the story… that might work. There’s another option as well. There are magics which can make even a bitter enemy friendly, at least for a short while. I don’t know them personally, but maybe someone in town does, like Vorvashali over at the Serpent, or Gandethus, he’s the headmaster of the orphanage. I could go speak with them, and see if they have access to anything like that. I’Daiin, maybe you could go over to Savah’s and sell off those glaives and the armor we took off the biters.” Quickfoot plucks the tiny, magical, cold iron dagger out of his boot. “I’d almost ask you to sell this as well, it’s so small, but who knows,” he shrugged, “it might come in handy.”
            He shook his head, as if to clear it before ticking off points on his fingers. “So, I’m off to the jeweler to sell off the gold and silver dust, then to the Feathered Serpent, where I’ll see if I can get a fair price for those wands we took off the goblin shaman, and hunt around for that charming spell, and anything else that might be useful in assaulting an island fortress. If that’s a bust, I’ll try Gandethus over at the Academy. Then I think I’ll try my luck at Bottled Solutions, they might have a potion or something like that. At the very least, some Alchemist’s Fire, maybe some Acid, a Tanglefoot bag or four…” he grinned. “And maybe some surprises if they’re there to be had. “ He lingered on his last finger, “And maybe someone should head down to the docks, and see if we can find someone willing to take us to Thistletop by boat.”
            The Paladin asked the innkeeper for a private bath(if possible) and then enjoyed her evening at the Rusty Dragon. If there was any form of entertainment Rhaina enthusiastically took part either/or singing and dancing until the end of the night And while not drunk,per se she did partake of a number of pitchers of ale,tipping the serving staff generously;since Ameiko indicated that they were not to pay for the food or drink

10


            The next day, Quickfoot made sure to warn Durriken and Rhaina of Venn Vinder's temper, especially as it related to his daughter. And asked the townsfolk if there was any news of the departed party members, or the odd gnome who had joined them so briefly. It seemed both were still in town - Squib was staying at the White Deer, while Amismara had spent the night at the cathedral. Of Hrolfr or Sheorin, there was no word.
            I'Daiin did not bother looking for departed team members. "Bah. They were clearly all 'The Rover', Bergi," he said after a perambulation of the town. "Amismara, that was a woman indeed. But no matter. Life is short. Do not grieve on the lost and the...rovered. I don't even recall the gnome's name. Squit? We need to get grapnels and the like."
            The halfling cringed at the dismissal of Hrolfir, but she also stayed behind, not wanting to let her pouting be an influence in a life-changing decision. “Indeed, the grapnels…” she murmured, referencing the idiomatic meaning in halfling slang more than common vocabulary. She needed loyal companions. “We could always use a few more of them. I would say they just don’t make them like they used to, but I think it’s just a pinch of circumstance holding the transient winds in the first place. All things considered, it’s a wonder anyone stays what with the murder, mayhem, and ponderous jimjamming. I’m still amazed any non-Sandpointesians have remained.”
            She scratched the back of her head. “The gnome’s name was Squib, by the way.”
            Quickfoot smirked, and gave Bergi a mock double-take. "But, the murder, mayhem and jimjamming are the fun part! Just look at I'Daiin, he's so proud that he still hasn't cleaned the goblin gore off himself!"
            The General Store's atmosphere was considerably more welcoming than it had been, and Ven Vinder was able to rustle up the gear they needed. The townsfolk still seemed frightened, but they were no longer panicked as they had been, and the party wasn't swarmed as they went about their business - though some did ask about the goblins they had brought into town.
            On going from shop to shop, they found that all the shopkeeps were considerably warmer towards them than they had been during the party's drawn-out argument with Ven Vinder. What was more, Vinder had gathered them for a meeting in which they had agreed to supply the Heroes of Sandpoint with whatever they needed, within reason, at no cost.
            "Our way of saying thank you," Ven said with a satisfied grin as he leaned across his counter. "Ameiko Kaijitsu says you're more than worth it. So, what can I find for you today?" His daughter Shayliss poked her head out of the door leading into the Vinders' home behind and above the general store, giving Quickfoot a saucy look it was fortunate that her father didn't see.
            The elf studiously avoided meeting Shayliss' gaze and focused on the shopkeep. "Ah, climbing gear, Master Vinder, and plenty of it. Ropes, grapnels, hammers, crampons, pitons, harness, things of that sort, as much of it as you can spare. We'll need to climb one-hundred feet of cliff face, or near enough as makes no difference, and as I'm sure you could guess, we're very keen on not falling. Aside from that, lamp oil would be handy, and I'll probably seek out some more esoteric concoctions if I can. Anything to bring the pain to those goblins, right?" he offered with a hopeful grin. "I'll go and trade in this gold and silver dust at the jeweler's and come back with proper coin to pay you, if that is well with you."

11


            The gregarious and oddly gnomelike Vorvashali Voon was happy to take the wands off Quickfoot's hands. Examining them with an expert eye, he made a bid, then tried to satisfy his curiosity about what the party had been up to while Quickfoot considered.
            Savah was likewise glad to accept the ranseurs and armor from I'Daiin, offering him a fair price in exchange. She didn't ask as many questions, though; for her it was good enough that the Heroes were on the job - and bringing back items for her to sell on.
            For Rhaina and Durriken, however, it went as Bergi and Ameiko had predicted. Tsuto proved to be sullen and uncommunicative, almost aggressively so. Vachedi, the silent, scarred Shoanti jailer, shook his head in disgust.

12


            Rhaina will find and take Quickfoot aside for a brief private conversation.The Elf noted that Rhaina’s manner of dress was a touch more conservative;with laced up trousers replacing the bare legs of the proceeding day
            “You made comments yesterday regarding my appearance. I was not offended by your words,but since I am not from around here I thought I should ask if you believe I have offended anyone else.
            A somewhat self conscious smile crosses her face accompanied by an all too familiar Barbarian shrug ”I am from the north and I do find the climate a touch warm. I am also all to well aware of the effect that my appearance has on men and while I do not depend on it;I have found it to be of use in the past . I chose the trousers as a better choice for climbing,for which you should know that I possess some skill. I am also hoping you will choose to have a discussion with us all before proceeding with the assault on Thistletop

13


            The barbarian, whistling a tune he'd heard Bergi sing before, made he way down to the docks. Once there, he scouted for a captain that would give them passage to Thistletop--and let them borrow a boat for the actual island landfall. Fresh coins jingled in his pocket from the sale of weapons and the like. "Coin, the sea, and a halfling's song," he chuckled in a low voice, "This is far too civilized for the likes of me." Though his stroll was reasonably polite and his visage not particularly fearsome, the various day laborers gave him some berth as he walked.
            Hearing that I’Daiin plans to head down and discuss getting a boat Rhaina catches up to him about half-way to the docs “You ever consider a career as a Bard ,cousin? She asks moving up and she easily matched his pace “Mind if I tag along?” I’Daiin notes a bemused expression on his fellow Shoanti’s visage. “At least I can assure the people on the Docks that you don’t intend to eat any of them” If he looks her way, her broad smile indicates a playful tone to the statement
            The two Shoanti were greeted respectfully by the dock workers, for I'Daiin, at least, was recognized as one of the Heroes protecting the town. The captains of the ships in harbor, however, were traders from afar, and a bit more wary, though still polite. There Rhaina's presence seemed to help a bit, and in the end the party was able to secure passage north for a gold coin per head. "We'll have to sail dangerously close to land," the captain explained, "and we'll lose time setting you off. You'll need to bring your own boat aboard, though."
            There were quite a few owners of local rowboats at the Hagfish, where Rhaina and I'Daiin were cheerfully invited by the peg-legged owner Jargie Quinn to try to win the bulging bag of silver coins by drinking, and holding down, a mugful of water from the slimy tank of the Hagfish's namesake, Nora. "Tell ya what," Quinn said with a conspiratorial grin. "You win the pot, there, an' I'll give you my own rowboat free an' clear. And then you'll join the names on the Beam of Fame!" He pointed to the beam above the bar, where a small handful of names had been carved. The sailors at the tavern cheered, gathering around to see if the Shoanti would take the bet.
            The Paladin grinned back at Quinn and nodded almost immediately “Water is sometimes in short supply where I’m from so I have had to drink some pretty disgusting things. Sure,I’m up for that. If I succeed will I be the first woman to do so?”
            "Nope - but you'll be the prettiest! Sorry Beckett, you know it's true!" Quinn called into the crowd, to mixed laughter. With great ceremony he dunked a mug into the hagfish's tank. Predictably, it released a cloud of slime and ducked behind some seaweed to hide.
            “"Tenei ara ki te kore ahau e taea e tamata koutou mutunga te hoko i toku kororia, tungane" she spoke in I’Daiin’s direction She briefly thought about asking the Goddess for her blessing,but reconsidered given that she was all too aware that much of her behaviour already stretched the limits of the Code,and she didn’t want to offend “Her Lady”
            As she took the Mug(when it was offered) she used the method taught her by a Dwarven comrade on the best way to “Drain a Pitcher in a single Draught” Expelling her breath and holding it,she quickly tilted the mug back and poured in down her upturned throat
            At least, she tried to pour it quickly - but the horrible hagfish-slimy water insisted on oozing out slowly. It was absolutely revolting, like a mugful of rotting snot!
            "[Is that all you can handle, Cousin?]" roared the barbarian at his paladinate kin in their native tongue. "[I've drunk worse than this sweet bland milk in the Cinderlands! An ocean of bile could not stop me! DRINK!]" He continued to exhort in a typical form of Shoanti 'compliments', not unlike those found in their orcish neighbors in the Hold.
            First Rhaina's confidence dwindled as the rank fishy sea-slime oozed down her throat; this was prime yakking territory. Seeing her expression, Quinn casually nudged a bucket closer with his peg leg. But I'Daiin exhorted her to new heights of willpower even as the crowd grew quiet in expectation; somehow the Shoanti was able to choke the foul goo down.
            A quiet breath was drawn in the crowd as they waited, and Rhaina's stomach gurgled loudly in protest at this torture. Several times, she was just able to keep the horrid, stinking glop down with controlled breathing (with her hand pinching her nose shut). Her eyes watered from sheer disgust, and her tongue felt like it wanted to crawl out of her mouth and flee.
            On the positive side, she was so busy not throwing up that the requisite few minutes passed relatively quickly, and the crowd burst into cheers as Quinn lifted the bulging sack of silver coins from its peg on the wall behind the bar.
            "Friends and neighbors, let it be known that a Hero of Sandpoint was able to best our beloved Norah!" he announced, raising his voice over the sound of cheering, and of Rhaina mercifully voiding the hagfish slime into the available bucket. "Ain't hardly a day that goes by without someone trying, and here's the pot to show it - my count is three hundred and twelve coins, and she's earned every one of 'em! Come on up on the bar an' carve the twenty-ninth name into the Beam of Fame!" He pulled a knife from his belt and offered it to Rhaina along with a hand to climb onto the bar. "That's right folks, the Hagfish is a second home to the Heroes!"
            "My rowboat's tied up at the end of the pier," he told them once things had quieted down. "It ain't good for much else'n paddling about the harbor, but if you need somethin' more seaworthy, I reckon you can get a few coins for it. But surely ye ain't rushin' off? We cook a mean chowder here at the Hagfish, and if ye stay, maybe I'll tell ye about how Old Murdermaw got me leg!"
            “Not sure this is covered in the Paladin’s Code” Rhaina offered between sips and spits of water as she swished the last of the taste of the slime from her mouth.
            She took the knife and stepped up gracefully,carving her Goddess’s name along with hers “I pray you not take offense,Saranrae” She reached into the bag and pulled a handful of coins( a dozen or so),and turned to Quinn”Will this cover a round of Ales for all present?”
            “Praise and Thanks Goddess,”She whispered as she turned raising her tankard to the others “To Sandpoint and the Goddess Saranrae!” As things quieted,she popped the sack into her backpack and turned,clunking her mug against her cousin’s,grinning as she spoke “ Between the monies we get for Quinn’s boat and these coins,I think we’ll find the Goddess has provided us with a large enough boat for us all”
            I'Daiin grinned at the man and arched his eyebrows at the missing limb. "I'd love to hear the tale, Quinn, and it seems that Rhaina's already eager to wash out the taste of hagfish with some ales. Let us have some of this chowder--I trust it's made of different fish?--and yes, with much respect to your vessel, we'll be needing something a little stouter for our journey."
            He elbowed the paladin (somewhat gently) and gave her a smile and a respectful nod. "You honor our ancestors with your iron gullet, Tamii-Quah."
            I'Daiin and Rhaina were treated to a hearty chowder meal at the Hagfish, while Quinn spun them a yarn about how he lost his leg, which elicited much mirth from the rest of the tavern's clientel, though opinions were divided as to whether it was because Quinn hadn't actually been half-eaten by Old Murdermaw, or simply because he'd told different stories of the loss of his leg at other times. Treated like conquering Heroes by the sailors even more than they had been for going up against the goblins, the Shoanti found a warmer welcome than they'd had at other places for a long time.
            The Shoanti enjoyed the time at the Hagfish and drank a few ales and told a couple tales of her own with the chowder before she left to locate Quickfoot to tell him about the money and the boat to sell “Between the two we can afford a Jollyboat without digging into group coin”
            She mused for a moment and then asked the Elf if he wouldn’t mind having her along when he went to speak to the Goblin “It might give me another shot at Tsuto as well.I can’t speak their tongue,but I can assist with ideas as to how to approach the Goblin such as “Good Paladin” “Bad Elf” She added with a smirk and a broad wink
            Quickfoot was glad for Rhaina's company, and even gladder when she offered to carry a share of the burden. Hefting up his cold-iron longsword, he considered her appraisingly. "This came in pretty handy when we fought the flying whatsit below the Glassworks. There might be another one on Thistletop, and I've recently found other ways to be useful in a fight." He flourished his wrist, and a forked wand spring into his grasp. "I'd appreciate if you held onto the sword and used it if needed," he said as he rewound the mechanism and replaced the wand in it's sheath.
            On the matter of boats, he grinned. "I'm not much of a sailor, but I think that between the five of us we should be fine to get that jolly-boat. Hopefully the ride will be fun."
            "As for goblins, do you speak their tongue? There's no guarantee that they speak ours, but whether you do or not, I'd be glad to have you along, especially if it tries to bolt. This spell I have, it will make the goblin friendly, but if we can make it even more helpful, it could give us all the information we need. Food, maybe some scraps of trash for it to keep for itself, or maybe even some strong drink... We'll also need a place to do everything. The Red Dog might be a good place to scare a goblin, but what if we took it somewhere nice? Really buttered the little bugger up... Maybe the Rusty Dragon? Give it some good food and see what we can get it to tell us. I can run over to the trash yard while you talk to Ameiko and make sure it's ok with her."
            With a grin, Quickfoot jogged off, not waiting for Rhaina's answer.

14


            Going into town to procure equipment, Rhaina found that the proprietor of Bottled Solutions, a half-elf with singed white hair by the name of Nisk Tander, was only too glad to find a potion for her when she asked. He surreptitiously tried to tuck his hair back into a semblance of order behind the goggles on his forehead and dust the soot of an alchemical mishap from his leather apron while she found the coin necessary to purchase the vial. "Word is about town that you've joined the Heroes. Maybe we could have a drink at Risa's Place, and you could tell me about your adventures?" he ventured hopefully.
            She thought over the Alchemist’s offer and agreed “Only so long as it doesn’t interfere with what the party needs me to do later.Does that sound alright”?
            "Y-yes... yes, that would be fine! Just come by whenever you're ready!" the stunned Tander stammered. He couldn't believe his luck! Breaking into a smile that lit up his face even more than his chemical explosions, he came to the door to wave as she left.
            Leaving Tander’s shop she mumbled quietly "Noa, ano he tangata! Ake anake whakaaro o tetahi mea" *Sigh* (Translation"Just like a man! Only ever thinking of one thing" *sigh*)

15


            Quickfoot was happy to procure two of the scrolls of Charming from Vorvashali, and set to work immediately copying one into his spellbook in his customary chair. He tapped his nose and winked at Voon, "I'll hold onto this other one, just in case. Never know when it might come in handy!" That done, he made his way about town, procuring alchemists fire, acid, tanglefoot bags and guards against disease and poison at Bottled Solutions. He also quietly asked if there were anything available that might be helpful in dulling the senses, wits and will of a goblin that he meant to interrogate, and purchased it if the price were not too dear.
            He got the answer he wanted at the notorious Fatman's Feedbag, an establishment of a seedier nature that catered to the rough part of town. The customers there, chiefly ill-favored sailors and Varisians, eyed him as though considering whether they could take the coin off him, but his reputation as a Hero had obviously preceded him, because looks were all he got.
            The enormous owner, Tenniwar, pressed his bulk against the bar, fat sagging onto a considerable portion of it, and refilled Quickfoot's mug. "You should go see the Pillbug," he rumbled, his beady eyes catching the elf's before scanning the crowd. "He'll set you up." A couple of Varisians snickered at the end of the bar, and Tenniwar leaned back from looming over Quickfoot to go see to them. They stopped laughing in a hurry as the hulking man approached, and Quickfoot was free to go.

16


            Next Quickfoot was off to the Sandpoint Boutique where he thanked Hayliss for always helping out, even when Venn and the others didn't look as kindly on the Heroes of Sandpoint. He asked for a spring loaded wrist sheath, two if she had them, and paid happily if they were available. Then he made his way back to Venn's shop, and purchased a very fine backpack, well padded to allow him to carry more as he traipsed about the wild.
            He was forced to avoid Shayliss' come hither looks, which became angelic whenever her father passed by. All the same, she managed to whisper an invitation to him to meet her outside of town in the evening when he returned from Heroing.
            He loaded all the new purchases in and gathered up the others as he went, doling out money to each in kind. He gave each party member a sack with 100 pieces of gold, and two platinum pieces each as well, feeling that he was carrying bit too much money of his own. He surreptitiously left another platinum piece in the till of the Rusty Dragon, waiting for a moment when Ameiko was distracted to place it within. Once all was said and done, he wondered if the Sandpoint Mercantile would keep his extra coin, realizing that it would not do him much good in the wild. It occurred to him that he might be able to use Kesk the jeweler's vaults for a small fee - though with the man's distracted habit of leaving the vaults open, that might not be as secure as he might wish.
            He made his way over to Sheriff Hemlock and laid out his plan. "Sheriff, I'd like to question one of those goblins, like we talked about, to see if I can gather more information about their fortress. Can you pull one away from the others? Put it in a place where it's isolated from the rest of them? I have a spell that will make it more willing to talk to me, and if I can use it on the little monster in peace, we might get exactly what we need."
            The Sheriff readily agreed to separate one of the goblins from the others, though the open layout of the iron-barred cells beneath the barracks didn't exactly allow for much isolation. "Maybe you can think of a way to have more privacy down there. I'll have Vachedi pull aside one of the goblins." He shook his head in irritation. "Tsuto Kaijitsu has been talking to them, though. I wish I could spare someone to get him to Magnimar for trial, but with all this goblin trouble... well, I hope you get what you need despite him."

17


            Before she headed back to see Ameiko ;Rhaina made a visit to the Temple and asked to see Father Zantus
            “Thank you for seeing me Father. One of my companions and I are planning to interrogate a Goblin to see if we can learn more about them and their lair. However I am unable to speak the language.I remember that the Priest who trained me could cast spells which allowed me to understand and sometimes to also speak languages. Are you able and would you be willing to assist us in this manner?”
            Father Zantus listened intently, his brow furrowed in thought. "I have heard of such magic, but I'm afraid it is out of my reach," he finally told her. "I'm more than willing to help in any other regard, but I'm afraid the ability to grant you the goblin tongue, even temporarily, is not a blessing Desna has bestowed upon me."
            After she finished at the Temple ,Rhaina made her way quickly to the Rusty Dragon and asked to see Ameiko. When she arrived Rhaina asked her to step aside for a private chat “Quickfoot and I are planning to question one of the Goblins.He has a spell he plans to cast on it and thinks that if we give him a spot of food and treat him kindly that he might be more cooperative He suggested I ask if you could let us do the interrogation here?.”
            This was the first time the two had spoken alone and as she spoke to the Innkeeper,Rhaina could not help but notice how attractive Ameiko was and found herself subtlety (she hoped) flirting with the Bard
            "A goblin? Here?!" Ameiko's face scrunched up in worry. "I don't think I could convince my customers to come back if they saw a goblin being fed on the premises. I'm not too thrilled about the idea personally, either. I don't know if Bergi or Quickfoot told you, but they held me captive at the Glassworks a few days ago." She winced, remembering. Then she sighed and looked up at Rhaina. "But I'll tell you what. I'll give you some food for the little monster." She smiled crookedly, her eyes on Rhaina's, and took the paladin's hand for a moment. "Just try not to get bit, okay?"

18


            Quickfoot made his way over to the Pillbug's Pantry, smiling and waving at everyone he met along the way, but not lingering long enough for conversation. When he arrived in the herbalists' shop, he busied himself smelling and touching all the plants that were out in the open until he was certain that he and Podiker were the only ones in the shop. Once he was comfortable enough to speak, he fixed the herbalist with an appraising look. "Fine shop you've got here," he offered by way of an opening sally. "I've always wondered, do the herbs work the same on everyone? I mean, I'm an elf,, pointy ears and all, but will the same plant heal me that heals a dwarf? What about a goblin?"
            Nestled at the base of a cliff and tucked between several old tenements, nothing but a painting of a pillbug perched on a mushroom indicated that the Pillbug's Pantry was anything more than yet another home. Once inside, however, the front room proved to have been cleared, with a selection of herbs in baskets lining the shelves, and a row of glass jars with steeping herbs behind a counter.
            It didn't take too long for the shop to clear; the Pantry wasn't overly stuffed with customers, the reason likely being "Pillbug" Podiker himself. The short, rotund man had a smarmy way about him, and a tendency to smooth the over-oiled strands of his combover over his balding pate before handling his herbs. As it was, the little man had come over to praise the efficacy of his wares when Quickfoot spoke up.
            Now he eyed the elf warily, as though hearing something other than what Quickfoot had said. "Yeeees... my herbal remedies will heal man or beast of any natural ailment, my friend," Podiker said, with an unctuous smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It might take time, of course, but I am only a humble herbalist, not a magician. Might I offer you something, esteemed Hero? Joyroot to sweeten your breath? Hipweed to soothe aching muscles? Or perhaps an ointment to grant you vigor in, ah, personal matters? I promise you, my tonics and unguents are always fresh!"
            Quickfoot furrowed his brow, checked his breath, and stretched his legs before grinning back at Podiker. "Ah, everything seems to be in working order, at least, well, I haven't noticed any problems in personal matters. Then again, I haven't had the opportunity to be very vigorous lately, well, I have, but it seems like it would be more trouble than it's worth...." The elf shook his head and banished thoughts of Shayliss and Ameiko from his mind. "At any rate" he resumed, fixing the Pillbug with his trademark winning smile, "I'm looking for something, and discretion, of course is paramount. Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, after all," he added with a wink. "And, well, you might not even have something that would do the trick, an honest apothecary like yourself. I'm afraid that what I'm after is a bit, well, unsavory. I just didn't know who else to turn to!" he added with a look of exaggerated distress.
            Podiker relaxed infintesimally as Quickfoot spoke - until the last thing he said. The round little man puffed up with a face like a thundercloud. "I am an honest herbalist, and you can tell the Sheriff his tricks won't catch me doing anything 'unsavory!' He ought to be ashamed of trying such a thing, and you ought to be doubly ashamed, a Hero such as yourself! Now, if you don't have any honest needs, I will say good day to you, sir!"
            Quickfoot's friendly smile fell away, and his gaze on Podiker became much more disappointed. "Who do you think you're talking to, Pillbug?" He lazily toyed with the hilt of his rapier, and allowed his smile to return, although the new one had much less in the way of friendly, and rather more in the way of nasty about it. "If I wanted you out of business, I wouldn't be here by myself. I'd have a couple of large Shoanti with me." Quickfoot clapped the herbalist on the shoulder in a friendly but firm gesture. "I don't care what you sell, or who you sell it to. I don't talk to the Sheriff any more than I have to either, but somehow I wound up in all this goblin business, and now I need to get some answers out of them. So you," the elf sharply buried his finger in Podiker's pudgy gut, "are going to sell me something to dull a goblin's wits but leave it talkative. Then I," he gestured to himself, and once more, the sunny smile returned, "am going to get the information I need from the little green maggot. Now, when you help me, afterwards, I can either leave you out of it completely, or tell everyone how helpful you were. Or, if your assistance is not forthcoming, immediately, I can let everyone know how you wouldn't even try to help me. And when that horde of goblins and bugbears and gods know what else come crashing down on Sandpoint, well, I'll be looking to help the ones who have helped me. But, anyone who refuses to do what they can for the town, well... I don't like their chances at all. Look at it this way, Pod. You can either be a friend to me, or you can find your life becoming much more difficult. So, what's it going to be?"
            Podiker smeared his hair over his pate and swallowed. "Well, that's not illegal... why didn't you say so?" He left the front room, returning with a small paper packet half-filled with chopped and crushed herbs. Handing it over, he gave Quickfoot one of his unctuous smiles, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Just mix that with strong drink, it will do the trick." He watched Quickfoot leave, the smile slowly sliding off his face.
            Quickfoot nodded his head and fixed his eyes on Podiker. "Much obliged, sir. I will remember your assistance this day." With that, he left the shop, and returned to the jail to proceed with his plan.

19


            Rhaina did not have a hard time finding Bergi. The bard didn't stray far from her friend's bar during the next couple of days so that she could offer comfort and replacement performances for Ameiko when she was too depressed to sing (though with an apology, as the halfling couldn't even fathom that her voice could compare to Ameiko's).
            She had to earn the butter she pilfered from the larder, right?
            "I'm sorry, Rhaina, but I don't know that spell... If I really studied, I could probably have it come to me, but... most of my spells come in the heat of a moment with a stroke of inspiration. However, if you need a translator, I can speak a couple of languages with some proficiency. This includes goblin. You can learn most of that from hearing the pattern to their songs and insults."
            Rhaina was very grateful for Bergi’s offer of help. She leaned over,gently bussing the Halfling’s forehead;a bright,warm smile on her face”Thank you my friend.If you would give me a moment with Lady Ameiko to obtain some supplies Quickfoot suggested .then we will be off to meet him at the gaol”
            Ameiko, who had spent more than a little time confiding in her friend, grimaced at the mention of the goblin language. "I guess you have an ear for it. I suppose I never really tried to learn much more than Taldane and Varisian."
            Whistling a song she had heard some time ago the Paladin made her way to the back of the Inn where Ameiko had said she would be gathering some food to motivate the Goblin. She laid a gentle hand on the Innkeeper’s shoulder and bent close to take the package for the interrogation;all the while ,her face beaming with a warm affectionate smile”Thank you Ameiko.It must have been difficult for you to assist us in this way,after all you have suffered at the hands of the little monsters”
            Rhaina’s hand moved slowly from Ameiko’s shoulder to softly touch the side of her face”If there is any aid or comfort I can give you during your time of grief and sorrow Ameiko ;you have but to ask and it will be yours” And with an all too brief look into the Bard’s eyes Rhaina,removed her hand ;seemingly reluctantly;and moved to turn to leave for the gaol
            Ameiko watched Rhaina leave, one hand reaching up to touch her cheek where the paladin had touched it.

20


            When the duo arrived,Rhaina moved to briefly draw the Sherriff aside “I have been given to understand that my comments during our initial meeting may have unintentionally shown insult to you Sir. If that is so,I offer apology and stand prepared to make amends for any slight to your honor”
            Sheriff Hemlock frowned in mild confusion. "I don't recall any slight, but I thank you for your concern." He signaled to Vachedi, who went down into the prison beneath the barracks to prepare for the party's arrival.
            A puzzled look then crossed her lovely face and she finished what she had come to say by adding “I must confess that I do not understand your reasons relative to your decision to refute your birthright. I am adopted into the tribe myself and I am perhaps more able to be objective in these matters,should you decide to honor me with an answer. However,I will take no offence if you choose not to share your reasons for that decision”
            "That's very good of you," Hemlock said dryly. "I don't believe I've refuted anything, but that's neither here nor there. Are you ready for the interrogation?"
            Ever one for impeccable timing, Quickfoot stepped lightly into the jail. "I thought I saw the rest of you slipping in here. Where are Durriken and I'Daiin? Will they be joining us as well? In any event," the elf shrugged, "I'm ready to get started. Will Ameiko allow us the use of the Dragon? If not, maybe we can just take our little friend for a little picnic outside of town."
            “Ameiko was not happy about helping at all and she was adamant about not allowing one of those ‘Creatures” into the Dragon;so I guess we pick out a fresh one and take him for a stroll and give him what she gave us for him to eat” Assuming the Sherriff is willing of course”
            The Sheriff was reluctant, but after extracting a promise from the party to be discreet, he led them down into the prison. Vachedi had separated one of the goblins from its fellows, and it cowered at the back of its cell, still suffering from the wounds the party had inflicted on it. The other goblins were singing and yelling in a cacophony that had the poor few humans in the cells covering their ears and shouting for the goblins to shut up.
            Tsuto stood behind the bars of his cell, watching the party come down the stairs and into the room. <"Don't tell them anything, Birdcruncher"> he warned the lone goblin in its tongue, who bobbed its enormous head rapidly.
            Soon after Quickfoot's query, the aforementioned I'Daiin shoved his enormous bulk into the gloom of the gaol, stumbling a bit, with something of a croak to his voice. "I, uh, hello. I discovered something called 'grog'. There are several varieties dockside... Hmm." He scratched some scruff on his face with a modicum of distaste, making a note to trim that with a kukri. "And I've lost my club," he said a bit mournfully. "We're here to see that Tsu fellow?" he said hopefully, trying to catch up. "Mph," he added, watching the ground shift slightly in his vision.
            Tsuto sneered at I'Daiin from behind the safety of the bars between them. "I won't tell you anything either, you drunken lout. I'm not afraid to... I'm not afraid of you."
            Ignoring him, the Sheriff handed Quickfoot a large sack. "For getting it out of town," he explained, a little disapprovingly.
            "Eh?" I'Daiin's eyes focused on his accuser. "Not afraid to what, you tshamek family-breaker? Your blood will decorate my armor. Sherrif, if you'd let me in there for a hundred heartbeats--ka neh Shoant' ke lo Quah ta burrin-ke ay'ki--I can have a friendly chat with him." The barbarian cracked his massive knuckles, undid a few kinks in his bull-like neck, and took a step closer to Tsuto, grinning.
            Tsuto's smile grew wider. "Yes, Hemlock. Let him in," he said smugly, taking up a ready stance, though he had no weapons.
            The Sheriff scowled at Tsuto, but shook his head at I'Daiin. "Tsuto Kaijitsu is going to trial in Magnimar - in one piece."
            Durriken attended the party's visit to the prison to assess the brother of the kindly innkeeper. He saw the blustery front Tsuto displayed to the others. With a raised eyebrow Durriken mused, "You seem quite concerned about what Birdcruncher might say. Perhaps you should be worried about your own situation. Betrayal of your family and neighbours is no small thing."
            Tsuto smiled a little. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "Maybe you're the one who should be worried, Pharasman. Maybe you should worry a lot."
            The Paladin laid a hand on her Cousin’s shoulder,but her focus was on the face of the man behind the bars “Peace,cousin” His fate here in the material world is nothing compared to what awaits him after death” She paused,her voice emotionless.
            As a follower of Saranrae it was difficult for her to accept that a soul was lost,but she feared for Ameiko’s sake that Tsuto’s fate was a bleak one.Her voice tinged with regret for the life Tsuto wasted
            “He is a Kinslayer and betrayed whatever God he served in order to follow the path laid out by a Demon Worshipper. He has been betrayed and abandoned by his “So called Love”,a smirk of disdain mars her lovely visage as her gaze locks with that of the Half-Elf within the bars
            “You failed her Tsuto ;and more importantly for you,you failed her Master. When you die,and I think that will be soon; you will discover that the one she serves has an eternity of suffering for one who fails in that service” She turned to face the Shoanti at her side “As hard as it might be for you to accept I’Daiin..;you should pity him,for he will burn for all time and nothing that is done here can compare with that”
            This appeared to have more effect than anything else they had said. Tsuto's face darkened, and he gave Rhaina a poisonous look. "You're just another ignorant Shoanti, you bimbo. Just you wait a few days, and we'll see who failed who." He retreated to the bench in his cell and sat, watching the party sullenly.
            Llanothen smirked at Tsuto and then turned his back on the prisoner, disregarding him entirely. "Don't waste your time, friends" he smiled to Rhaina, Durriken and I'Daiin. "That coward isn't worth it. Let's get that goblin in a sack and get going."
            "Besides" he whispered to Rhaina, "I do believe him that something big is coming in the next few days. We need to move quickly."
            Quickfoot did his best to help I'Daiin corral the goblin prisoner, cutting of lines of escape and keeping the others at bay at the point of his rapier if necessary.
            The goblin wailed and squalled as it was stuffed into the sack, noise which was barely heard over the cacophony of goblins in the farthest cell, which Vachedi went down to try to quiet. Tsuto smirked at the party knowingly as they left.
            Bergi held his gaze, having been behind the others during the entire exchange. She'd no desire to continue the cycle of venom, but she still tried to take inventory of the half-elf's resolve before ducking out. Tsuto saw her watching, and his smirk became a mocking grin. Bergi had seen it before; it seemed Tsuto knew something they didn't.
            "Get it out of here fast, before anyone finds out what you're doing," Sheriff Hemlock grimaced, letting them out of the barracks. It was easier said than done; the goblin struggled mightily in the bag, punching and kicking and yelling.
            I'Daiin flicked a large finger against the bag as if swatting a fly; it no doubt left a dent in the unseen goblin. "Listen, friend, help us out by being quiet and you just might live through this. You don't want to wind up like the tshamek bignose Tsuto, do you?"
            Once clear of the barracks, he grunted at Rhaina. "I have no idea about eternal rewards and punishments, cousin, but that little schemer of a man has something up every sleeve and pocket, nook and cranny...ptuah. Better that he be punished in the here and now. I cannot believe Belor would renounce 'Viskalai' and let that kinslayer insult the Shoanti. He can hiss and simper his defense with a few teeth missing. Lifegiver! What I wouldn't give for a glimpse of the Storval Plateau right now. Quickfoot, where to? We have a boat. At least, I think I tied it up."
            When I'Daiin swatted the goblin, Quickfoot translated his words for its edification.
            "Boats can wait for the moment, I'Daiin. Let's take this little fellow out of town and find a spot where we can have a nice little chat." Quickfoot lowered his voice so that the goblin could not overhear the next part. "Once we find somewhere relatively secluded, let's get a rope around him so he can't run off too easily. I managed to, ah... procure something that should loosen his tongue and wits. Didn't quite go as well as I'd hoped. I might have to apologize to another merchant..." He grinned, catching his train of thought once more. "Anyway, we'll add it to strong drink and feed it to him, by force if necessary. After that, I'll cast my spell, which should make him friendly. Then, well, we just should be nice to him. Give him food and more drink if he wants it, and then ask him to tell us about what's on Thistletop. It'll probably still be very difficult, but I think Bergi should really shine here. She speaks the goblin tongue, and has a way of making friends with everyone. If she's willing, she can probably do a better job than I can of getting information out of the Birdcruncher. Maybe we can convince the goblin that Tsuto won't be able to hurt it for helping us. That should help too." Quickfoot paused for a moment, and then shrugged. "That's basically it. Any questions?"
            The bard, face rosy with the effects of Quickfoot's compliments, raised her hand. "Can I get an agreement that no one (and I'm not accusing anyone in particular), will shove a blade in our new ally during this meeting, regardless of his spoken replies?"
            By now, it was exceedingly obvious which of her companions wasn't named for his deeds in her company. Well, at least to I'Daiin.
            Quickfoot's history aside, the shoanti also had to make that oath to set Bergi at ease with this arrangement, due to the giddiness with which he articulated his violent urges.
            I'Daiin nodded at the halfling, although he arched an eyebrow at her vehemence. "No blades, no killing, and...really, Bergi! It was a love tap. Soot and ashes, you're going to demand we become pacifists next."
            "Bergi!" Quickfoot exclaimed in protest. "That goblin shaman had it coming! And besides, this is my plan, but if you must, very well, I swear by the aiudara that I will not shove any blades into our new companion during this meeting."
            "It would seem to be counter-productive to stick blades into someone you are trying to speak with but if it will ease your mind, Bergi, I swear," Durriken says with a bit of a quizzical look on his face.
            Before I'Daiin could release the new, unstabbed goblin, Quickfoot slipped Podrick's herbs into the the flask of liquor and stirred it around.

21


            The goblin quieted, perhaps more because I'Daiin had dented its oversized skull with his finger-flick than because of anything they said to it. They were able to haul it out of town to the north without any questions, though they were stopped several times on the way by townsfolk wanting to express their gratitude for the Heroes' work on their behalf.
            Moving away from the road to avoid any casual passers-by, they dumped the bound goblin onto the ground. It immediately sprinted for the woods with that manic speed goblins were known for, but I'Daiin had hold of the other end of its rope, and it came to an abrupt halt and bounced back on its rear.
            <"No kill Yuga!"> it wailed, snuffling as big tears leaked out of its tiny eyes. Its crying came to a sudden end as Quickfoot and Rhaina pulled out the food and liquor Ameiko had provided them with. It gazed at the food hungrily, riveted, but it didn't come any closer. They could hear its stomach growl in complaint.
            The elf placed a small morsel of food and the full flask of drink at a point where Yuga could draw near, bound as he was, then backed away.
            Yuga crept forward a few feet, watching them all warily; then she rushed forward in a blur and grabbed the chunk of curried salmon and flask, and zipped back to the end of her leash, stuffing the morsel in her mouth and smacking. She took a long swig of liquor as though it were water; it seemed Vachedi hadn't ensured that all the goblins got an equal share of what food and water was provided to them.
            Still watching them warily, her little fingers fumbled at the rope keeping her tied. Keeping the flask in one hand, she began to gnaw on the rope.
            Quickfoot shrugged, unsure as to how long before the drug took effect and cast his spell on the otherwise occupied goblin. After he had done so, he called out in a friendly voice, <"Yuga, would you stop chewing that please?">
            Yuga paused in chewing to yell, <"No play killgull with Yuga!"> She brandished the bottle, then took another long slurp. <"Raid not Birdcrunchers' fault! All Thistletop goblins fault!"> She peered at Quickfoot myopically, her eyes looking even tinier in her gigantic head. <"Nice bigfolk, no kill Yuga,"> she tried, her voice gone wheedling. <"Yuga no taste good. Good bigfolk let Yuga go, Yuga never come here no more!"> She tugged the frayed rope, looking at I'Daiin with a much more suspicious expression.
            The elf nodded solemnly. <"No play killgull with Yuga, I swears it. Me Quickfoot, good with stabby-stabby and burny-burny. This me friend Bergi, she good talky, goody-good sing-sing."> He gestured to Bergi, ushering her forward a bit. <"We want help Yuga, but need help from Yuga first. Yuga talk with us?">
            Yuga paused a long moment, eyeing Quickfoot as though his head was on backwards. <"Sure, okay. Yuga talk to Quickfoot."> She looked at Bergi with a hostile glare. <"Bergi here to talk for Quickfoot?">
            <"Bergi here to talk for Bergi, but Quickfoot, too."> the halfling responded, kneeling close to the taller goblin.
            She squinted at the whole party suspiciously. <"Why bigfolk want talk to Yuga?"> She glanced at Quickfoot again, and after a moment's consideration, repeated her questions loudly and slowly, her voice slurring just a tiny bit.
            <"Because Yuga important. Yuga can help us win, even small Bergi, if Yuga helps. We don't eat Yuga, we don't hurt Yuga unless we no have choice. We give Yuga food, water, stories... Bergi has lots of stories. Stories about heroes, goblins, goblin heroes...">
            Despite a quiver of revulsion, Bergi leaned close. She couldn't hate this individual goblin quite as much as the others. They weren't quite so bad when they didn't have knives. Of course, the smell still left something to be desired.
            Think of her like a rabid dog. the bard advised herself.
            <"Yuga help, and Yuga get stories. Can Yuga tell us about Thistletop?">
            The hateful look Yuga gave Bergi made her think it was wise to treat the goblin as though she were rabid. As the bard continued to speak, though, the goblin's expressioned softened slightly. She still didn't appear particularly fond of Bergi, but no longer looked as though she was considering biting the halfling's jugular.
            <"Yuga no need stories. Want food,"> she said bluntly, eyeing the package Ameiko had given the party. She took another swig of the bottle, smacked her lips, and continued with a clever look, <"Yuga tell longsh... bigfolks about Thistletop, then bigfolks let Yuga go?"> She was beginning to slur a bit more; when Quickfoot had asked Ameiko for a bottle of strong liquor, she had apparently taken him at his word.
            Quickfoot brought a bit of food forward, smiling. <"Here's the food, Yuga. Can I have the drink for a moment? Just tell us about Thistletop, and then we'll talk about where you'll go.">
            Yuga growled and smacked Quickfoot's hand when he reached for her bottle. <"Yuga's!"> Then she stuffed the food into her mouth, eating noisily and messily. Typical goblin.
            The Shoanti held the rope to Yuga somewhat apologetically. "Tell her that the big man also swears he will let Yuga go. ...Quickfoot, do you suppose it would be helpful to offer assistance to the Birdcrunchers? Tribalism--let us say that the Shoanti know a bit about it. They may not be friends to the Thistletop--may want their territory, even."
            Nonplussed by Yuga's refusal to relinquish the flask of liquor, Quickfoot let it go after a brief tug-of-war. <"My large friend will do you no harm if you're willing to help us,"> the elf confided to the goblin. <"If you are a true friend to us, he will even let you go."> He stepped back toward the Shoanti with a smile, and keeping his voice low so that Yuga could not hear, said "I'm not sure how much of the trade tongue she speaks, but let's see what she and Bergi can work out."
            <"Good bigfolk, let Yuga go. Yuga helps. Stupid raid all Thistletops' fault! Yuga not even there. Yuga not eat no cat and drop rest on screamy bigfolk!"> Yuga giggled, then realised that didn't look so good and cleared her throat. <"What help Yuga give Quickfoot? Birdcrunchers all caught now,"> she said mournfully, taking another drink. <"Tell about Thistletops? They real dumb. Got best goblin home. Tell goblin chiefs, 'we make raid, get lots of loot.' Yuga not get no loot,"> Yuga said sadly, forgetting that she hadn't been in the raid. <"Birdcrunchers no have home no more. Stupid Thistletops!">
            The Shoanti listened to the translation. "Where are the Birdcrunchers held? If we liberate them, they can have Thistletop, but only if they agree to trade with the people--er--bigfolk of Sandpoint. We call this 'enforced alliance' in the Cinderlands," he said with a chuckle. "And I would water down that bottle. Put something spicy in the water--doubt she'll notice the difference."
            Quickfoot shrugged, "I'm pretty certain that they're being held in the jail in Sandpoint right now. We fought them in the Nettlewood, and then brought them back, remember?" He squints at the large barbarian. "Have you been drinking that liquor?"
            Rhaina sensed the direction of Quickfoot’s intended comment and poked the Elf abruptly in the ribs,hoping to forestall him from finishing ”Not a good plan to mock a Barbarian,my Friend” “What are our thoughts on rewarding Yuga if she gives us useful information.I’m not sure the Sherriff would approve of releasing her”?
            "Of course he wouldn't." Bergi said, shaking her head. "And I don't know how to go forth with this negotiation until I can promise somethin-Wait...."
            The bard got a bit of a lopsided smile on her face. "Let's say that she got killed in the line of duty... bring her with us, you know? And then, when it's all but a warnt echo in the warrens, her tribe can take over Thistletop! You know, as long as we take away whatever advantage the creatures there have."
            Quickfoot shook his head and gathered the others into a tight huddle after making sure that I'Daiin still held Yuga's leash. "The spell won't last that long," he said in a hurried whisper. "For right now, we don't need to promise her anything. Just get what information we can and we can decide what to do with her later. Once the magic fades, she will be markedly less friendly and willing to help. I also don't see how it helps to trade one tribe of goblins for another. I guess we could bring her along, bound and gagged, mind you, as it wouldn't be right to put her back in the jail with Tsuto and the other goblins after we singled her out."
            “I agree.We can speak to the sherriff and privately let him know that Yuga has agreed to help.Assuming ,of course that we can trust her not to warn Thistletop” Rhaina said.
            The bard nodded to both Rhaina and Quickfoot, and started to babble excitedly with the expectation that the spell was going to wear off within seconds.
            <"Yuga, we talks to the big sheriff longshank and ask him to lets you come with us, okay? But right now, we needs to know stuff about inside the stupid Thistletop spot. Who are the big, strong uglies and where are they?">
            <"Yuga helps Quickfoot get back at stupid Thistletops,"> Yuga proclaimed, raising her bottle triumphantly. <"They gots longshanks and big hero to help them!"> She leaned in close to Bergi, whispering with breath like rotting rat corpses steeped in liquor, <"They got Bruthamsus, Bruthmamos - Bruthazmus! And big giant goblin, tall like trees, soon! But now Birdcrunchers got bigshanks too. Long. Bigfolks! Only, Birdcrunchers just Yuga now.">
            Then Yuga gave Bergi a sly look and poked her in the chest. <"Yuga say all - but Yuga goes with you now, no big longshanks. Er, bigfolk. No big human. Yuga no more tied up."> She smacked her thin lips and eyed the parcel of food Quickfoot was holding. <"Eat more, too.">
            Quickfoot looked a bit askance at Yuga, but nodded silently to the others after paraphrasing her words in the common tongue and stepped forward, handing the rest of the food to the group's new erstwhile ally. <"If you'll tell it true Yuga, you can come and help us put down the Thistletops. But,"> he held up a finger warningly, <"if you try anything tricksy with us, well, all bets are off. Deal?">
            <"I understand if you want ignore longshank, but I make same deal. Will be hard to keep you safe because Thistletops make war, burn bridges, and eat babies."> She shook her head. "
            It looked like Bergi was amused by her short monologue until she remembered that this wasn't just a joke. Yuga probably really would have eaten a baby if the opportunity presented itself. It only followed that the halfling realized that she had truly chosen to become the babysitter of a "child" that could outrun her. She had to suppress the urge to act on the impulse she'd ensured that none of her companions heeded, and was aware of the irony of having to do so.
            Yuga began stuffing food into her face the moment Quickfoot handed it over, but poking her a little resulted in a salmon-muffled agreement. <"Yuga says all Yuga knows, you keep Yuga full, you beat up Thistletops,"> she smacked, bits of leftover fish spraying from her mouth, and upended the bottle over her mouth as she glugged the liquor.
            <"We'll untie you once we get back out of town. I don't want any of the bigfolk to try to hurt Yuga, and they won't as long as they think you're still a prisoner. Once we get on the boat, we'll untie you. "> Quickfoot thought for a moment. <"Yuga, we're planning on climbing up to Thistletop from the water. Do you know if there's a place where it's easier to do that, or if there are any guards down below or other dangers in the water?>
            <"Sure, Thistletops gots boats too. Back of Thistletop,"> Yuga said, her words nearly unintelligible with all those spiced potatoes in her wide mouth. <"Yuga not never go in boat, don't know 'bout things in water.">
            Once the food was eaten, Yuga growled and complained about remaining tied up (though not too coherently - that was strong liquor!), but in the end it didn't matter, as she fell asleep on the way back to Sandpoint. The party was forced to carry her back in the sack they'd carried her out in, rope and all.

22


            The people of Sandpoint, once assured that the party wasn't leaving for good, came down to wave them off as the ship carrying them north, the Sea Star, left the harbor, the party's new jollyboat lashed to the side. Quickfoot spotted the children from the Academy jumping up and down on the pier and waving furiously. Bergi's parents were also there, waving in a much more dignified manner as their daughter sailed away.
            Llanothen waved just as excitedly back to the orphans of Turandarok Academy, and wondered in passing if he'd ever told them that Venn Vinder was now a friend an ally. "Oh well," he thought to himself, "maybe some pranks will make him merrier..."
            Fortunately, Yuga slept for the whole four hours it took for the captain to sail them through the choppy waters to a point not far from the island of Thistletop. They raised the sails and lowered the jollyboat, wishing the party (and especially Rhaina, whom the sailors had been flirting with throughout) a safe landing and good hunting.
            With the Shoanti rowing, they made good speed toward the island. From this angle, the ancient carving of a head was more apparent; the goblin fort sat on top like a cocked hat. There didn't appear to be any lookouts on the back of Thistletop - and just as Yuga had said, there was a rough series of steps carved into the stone at water level, steep, but not so steep it would be impossible to carry a rowboat up them if you were determined and numerous enough. A jollyboat was another matter; the best they could do was wedge its rope between some rocks and hope the sea didn't get violent enough to dislodge it.
            Sure enough, at the top of the rough-carved stone steps, a battered rowboat lay upside down not far from the edge. There were no goblins here, just the sad remains of a few seagulls that had been eaten, and the dung of goblin dogs. The party could hear the sound of voices carried on the wind from the front of the fort.
            Dumped out of the sack, Yuga looked around blearily - and then her beady red eyes popped open and she scrambled to her feet. <"This Thistletop!"> she squeaked, looking around anxiously. Spotting a lone seagull leg, she eyed the party warily as she edged toward it, then darted over in the blink of an eye and stuffed it into her maw. <"Light too noisy,"> she whimpered as she crunched it, shielding her watering eyes from the intermittent sun. <"Head go all bang bang. No beat up Thistletops today. Later!">
            The barbarian scowled at the goblin, the jollyboat, the cliff, and the general lack of alcohol. "We go now, while the light blinds the goblins. To stay here at night is to risk being discovered. To attack at night--we may as well jump off the cliff and save them the trouble." He spoke in a low tone, wary of sound traveling up the castle walls, even through the sound of the surf.
            Once the party was atop Thistletop, and without the aid of climbing gear, for which Quickfoot offered silent thanks to any deity who cared to take credit, he squatted down next to Yuga. <"Yuga stay here, Yuga stay quiet, we beat up Thistletops, come back when Yuga head not so bang-bang. Yuga tell us, is there a back door, or a spot where the wall is easy to climb, and no Thistletops watch?">
            This idea seemed to please Yuga greatly. <"Yuga hide from bangy light,"> she agreed, nodding vigorously and then clutching her head in remorse. <"Thistletops no see you come in boat. You climb back wall, be sneaky, they no see."> She pointed at the stockade wall, which was a mess of driftwood and ship siding (including a few beams with nameplates and timbers that could have been masts) cobbled together in goblin fashion - it shouldn't be hard to climb.
            Then Yuga scuttled off to hide under the rowboat, leaving the party to beat up the wicked Thistletops. <"Watch out for bad longshanks!"> she hissed at them in parting.
            Looking up at the walls,whilst whispering a Prayer,Rhaina drained a potion bottle of Mage Armour and readied herself to climb
            Skilled,(relatively) Stealthy and Unarmoured,she suggested she should go amongst the first up.Her spring loaded dagger would allow her to be armed the moment she crested the top “I’m ready,Quickfoot,give the word” she whispered
            "Stay here, and be ready to catch me," Quickfoot grinned at Rhaina and I'Daiin, "I'll see if it's clear to climb up." Stepping as lightly as he could, the elf made his way to ramshackle wall, eyes wary for signs of a trap, ambush, or simply poor goblin craftsmanship. Once satisfied that he was not about to meet his untimely demise, he moved forward ever so carefully, and placed first one foot then the other, testing for loose boards, that might groan or shift, giving way to his weight or revealing his presence. He then repeated the process with his hands, checking to make sure the whole structure wouldn't come down upon him and could support him before he began to climb as quietly as possible.
            Quickfoot made the climb easily, the stockade being surprisingly steady, if damp (though a few chunks of wood did fall loose). He ghosted up the side of the fort and looked across the shamble of broken spars and jutting mast bits coupled with driftwood piled high that made the roof of the fort.
            Directly ahead of him, the wall dropped a few feet to the roof of a shed, which in turn squatted on the side of a large yard. Four goblin dogs were busy fighting, barking at the shed and rolling in bird droppings in the yard. Looking up at the front of the fort, Quickfoot could see that there were guards in the left tower by the horsechoppers jutting up, but none appeared to be concerned with the back of the fort.
            Silent as he'd been, it was pure dumb luck that one of the goblin dogs scratching itself happened to be looking his way as he poked his head over the wall. It leapt to its scraggly feet and began to yap loudly, drawing the attention of the one that had been barking at the shed, who trotted about, looking for the source of the other one's attention. No guards appeared to take notice of one or two of the dogs barking.
            Quickfoot made a hasty count of the number of horse-choppers jutting above the tower before lowering himself back down below the fortress wall. He returned to the rest of the party and laid out what he had seen.
            "There are four goblin-dogs in a little courtyard over the wall. One of them was barking at a shed that's in a good position for us to drop down onto. Another one saw me and started barking as well. I saw some guards on the left tower, but they didn't seem too agitated by barking dogs. Still, it's strange. I thought dogs couldn't look up. Maybe rat-dogs can... I wonder why that rat dog was barking at a shed, it's not like the shed's going to bark back..." He paused for a moment, contemplating the mysteries of the universe before shivering and resuming. "Does anyone have any food, maybe we can throw something over to distract them, and then we could dispatch them from the rooftop."
            The halfling thought about Yuga for a moment, nearly laughed and made the joke that subsequently surfaced, and then lightly slapped the side of her own face for being so vindictive. Of course, she tried to pass it off as thoughtfulness. "Didn't we gift almost all of our food to Yuga?" She tapped her arms. "If I were faster I'd volunteer to make a game of baiting the green horrors, but I'm afraid I'm of little use here. However... what if we were to toss something flammable inside and set it alight?"
            "Well, a fire might be good and bad. It would definitely draw attention, and unless it looked like it started naturally, it would probably let the goblins know that we're here. Still, maybe you're onto something here Bergi. Can anyone think of a reason why we shouldn't try to burn the whole fort down? It's made of wood, and unless the goblins managed to reattach the bridge, they would have to climb over the back wall to get out... We do have ten flasks of oil, after all."
            Durriken speaks up, "While a due might deal with the creatures inside it will tell us little on how these tribes have been united and why. Perhaps information can be found inside which can assist us in answering these questions."
            "And I suppose there might be a hostage or something in that shed down there... Gah! My plan bites its own tail in ravenous hunger!" She pulled out one of her butter sticks from her spell component pouch and waved it at Quickfoot. "There's always this, too, but-," she placed it back in her pouch. "-it tends to set its own mother alight, if you'd catch the hilt and not the blade."
            Food is a great idea” Rhaina reached into her pack and threw up a packet of dried meat to the Elf,before starting to scout out her route up the wall
            "Food it is then, and no arson," he added with a cheery grin for Durriken. "Once they're occupied, we can drop down onto the shed and shoot arrows at them at our leisure. Quickfoot waited until everyone was ready at the base of the wall, and then made his way up once more. Dried meat in hand, the elf retraced his route up, and careful as could be peeked his head over. First he checked the horse-choppers at the left tower, to see if there were as many poking above the wall as their had been the last time he looked. Assuming there were, and that the dogs were still in place, he lobbed the hunk of meat among the rat-like beasts, hoping that it would draw all of their attentions.
            The plan worked like a charm. The goblin dogs raced after the hunk of dried meat, then fell to fighting amongst themselves over it. After making sure there were still three horsechoppers jutting above the left tower, Quickfoot signalled for the others to climb up, and soon they were all crouched on the shed. The goblin dogs were far too occupied with their feast to notice the party's presence.
            Quickfoot pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow. He looked at the others, hoping they would do the same. "Should we all just stay up here and shoot at them until they're dead?" he whispered.
            Rhaina agreed with Quickfoot’s decision and drew her bow preparing to fire on one of the dogs,the moment that the signal was given by the Elf
            The rain of missiles took the goblin dogs completely by surprise - but in the first volley, the party only managed to fell one of them. Two of the ratlike dogs abandoned their tug-of-war over the meat to run over to the shed and bark like crazy, jumping up on the sides of the shack to try to reach the party. Suddenly there was a loud slam from within the shed, making the structure shudder.
            The last ratty dog stayed behind to wolf down the meat, which was lucky - how much longer could the party remain unnoticed if all the dogs began to yap?
            Their second volley was less successful than their first, as one of the goblin dogs began to yelp sharply in a high-pitched voice, not quite dead from the party's attack, and the other two scabby dogs remained untouched.
            Trying to quiet the animals down to avoid drawing attention, Durriken once again placed a sling bullet into his sling and launched it at the dog that looked the most injured.
            The barbarian followed the Pharamin's suit, tucking a stone into the worn leather cup of this sling and letting it fly at one of the yapping dog-like rodents. "If only this wall had a ballista we could aim back into the fort," he intoned quietly and wistfully.
            Durriken's bolt stuck into the ground where the cowering animal had been a moment before, but I'Daiin's bullet bounced off its skull and it collapsed motionless in the yard.
            The last two goblin dogs raced around the shed, barking and howling. From atop the left tower, a goblin yelled impatiently, <"You dogs shut up!"> A small stone came sailing through the air from somewhere on the tower, not even coming close to striking the mangy goblin dogs.
            Again the entire shack shuddered from an impact within, making the party wobble to keep their balance.
            "We need to finish this, quickly! Before long those goblins will notice us, or whatever's in the shed will break free, and maybe break the shed while it's at it!" Quickfoot sent an arrow at the dog directly in front of him and took a look over the side of the shed, curious if there was a way to release whatever was contained inside.
            The mangy animal began to yelp loudly, Quickfoot's arrow sprouting from its back. It turned about, trying to bite the source of its pain, but it never stopped its noisy complaints.
            Looking over the side of the shed, Quickfoot found that the goblins apparently didn't want whatever was in the shed to get out. The door was boarded and nailed shut in typical haphazard goblin fashion, with extra boards nailed on top of the first ones - and two dead goblins lay beside it, their heads crumpled in on one side, and marks of chewing all over their exposed flesh. A coating of flies covered them both.
            I'Daiin grinned even as the shack swayed beneath them, his eyes dancing as Quickfoot took a peek. "I don't have to see it, elf, to know it's something large. Finally, something to fight that isn't the size of a coney."
            The Paladin fired another arrow at the wounded dog and then put her bow away She struck it, but it didn't kill the animal, who continued to yelp sharply, its naked tail tucked between its legs as it staggered about, its blood falling on the already stained and furrowed ground.
            Meanwhile, Bergi tried to hit the yelping goblin dog with an arrow, too.
            Quickly reloading his crossbow, Durriken tries to ignore the yelping and takes more careful aim at the dog, before squeezing the trigger and firing another bolt at injured dog hoping to finish it off. Finally the injured dog dropped, but I'Daiin pelted the last one with a rock, and it began its high-pitched yelping as well.
            Rhaina turned to her fellow Shoanti “Ahau ka matau ana hohoro ki te he kino, a ki te kore ka "te hoariri o toku hoariri he hoa" Shrugging while she drew her Greatsword, concentrating on her ability to sense evil Rhaina translated what she had said to I’Daiin “I will know soon if it is an enemy,if not then”The enemy of my enemy is a friend”
            Quickfoot took another shot at the remaining goblin dog, but held a hand up for the others to pause as he listened to the goblin voices drifting down from atop the tower. "We've only got a few seconds before some goblin looks down here!" he hissed at the others. "They're going to see us, or at least see the dead dogs! What should we do?"
            "We've slain enough. Rhaina, let us jump down there and take care of the rest. You rest can follow." The Shoanti poised to spring.
            Quickfoot joined I'Daiin in preparing to leap down from the shack.
            Extending her senses below, into the darkness of the shed she stood on, Rhaina searched for an inner darkness in the inhabitant's soul... but came up with nothing. Whatever was in there, it wasn't evil - or at least, not evil enough for a telltale aura to alert her to it.
            Durriken saw the others beginning to move into position to take out the remaining opposition so he slung his crossbow and looked for a way to climb down to the courtyard as quietly as possible. Scanning the area he looked for other doorways or exits that might provide access for both the party and potential attackers.
            There were three doors leading out of the yard, one of them right beside where Durriken had climbed down, and one of them actually a set of double-doors, on the far side of the yard along with the last door.
            I'Daiin dropped with cool agility down beside the screaming goblin dog, drawing the goblin-thing's enchanted longsword as he did. He ended the mangy animal's cries with one stab of his sword.
            From this vantage, it was apparent that the boards of the shed, and the boards that had been nailed over the boards, were cracked and splintered in places.
            The sound of bickering from above rose to a crescendo, then ended with two goblins laughing and another one growling something. Quickfoot, who had joined the others on the ground, whispered to them, "That's it, the watchtower goblins have picked one of themselves to look down here! Whatever we're going to do, do it fast!"
            Hearing the sounds of the goblins starting to move towards them, Durriken moves to the door next to him and listens at it for a moment. If he hears no sound he tries to carefully open the door a crack (if unlocked) and peek inside. If the coast is clear he will turn to the others and say, "Perhaps we should have an exit strategy for when the goblins arrive. If someone would like to ambush the goblin perhaps we can prevent it from sounding an alarm? Might be a good idea to drag the bodies into the shed as well."
            “Why doesn’t Quickfoot and Bergi check out the door and corridor while I’Daiin,Durriken and myself carry the dogs into the corridor to hide them We can then decide on an ambush at that time” “Sound Good”?
            After she finished speaking Rhaina jumped from the shed and moved to pick up a dog to move it to the corridor
            While Durriken checked the corridor, I'Daiin, Quickfoot and Rhaina grabbed the fallen goblin dogs and dragged them inside, forced to push open another door to another short corridor as the party piled in. Bergi pushed Durriken in, and latched the door again. There was silence for a few moments; then a goblin's muffled voice drifted down to them, and Bergi and Quickfoot relaxed. "No alarm," Quickfoot said, then frowned at his hands in the faint light filtering in past the door. "I wish I'd had gloves, though." He scratched at his hands idly.
            The corridor was starting to stink of goblin dog already, the warm sewage smell seeping into their noses.

23


            The Paladin pulled a Sunrod out of her pack,followed by one of her Mage Armor potions She handed the Sunrod to the nearest available person(Other than Quickfoot,who may need his hands free to open the next door) “Here,this should give us all the light we need”
            The glow of the sunrod revealed the haphazard, heavily-nailed and sometimes scorched wood of the corridors they stood in. Tall enough to accommodate even the Shoanti (though they had to duck their heads a little), the fort was built on hard-packed dirt. There were two doors at the end of the corridors, opposite each other. All seemed quiet.
            Examining the confines of the hallway Durriken says, "Perhaps we should head further into the interior? Of course is it wise to leave doors unexplored at our backs? Might I suggest that one of our more melee focused members cover the back so that Bergi isn't holding our light and fighting off anything? Quickfoot, perhaps?"
            She whispered quietly to I’Daiin after swallowing her potion “You listen at the door on that side and I’ll listen at this one,We will go through whichever door we hear something behind and hope to take it down quickly”
            Though they listened for a long minute in the terrible rising stench, there was only the creak of wood settling - they heard no one moving about or speaking.
            The door Rhaina opened led into stinking darkness, but after a minute or so her eyes adjusted enough that she could see with the little light that made it around the corners from where Bergi stood with her sunrod. What Rhaina saw was yet another corridor in the maze of tunnel-like halls, with two doors on her left. The smell was similar to that of the goblin dogs lying at their feet, though she couldn't see any of the ratlike hounds lurking there.
            Durriken peered over shoulders trying to see what was there and said, "If there is not an immediate threat perhaps we should shim the door closed and move on. We will not get the element of surprise for long. Would be a shame to waste it fighting goblin dogs."
            "I still think we should have opened the crate," complained the Shoanti barbarian as he swung open the door, longsword in hand.
            Only the faintest of light from the corridor illuminated the room I'Daiin had opened the door to, but it was enough to reveal the outline of a round table, its legs sawed halfway off so that it was at goblin-height, and a few mismatched chairs with the same treatment.
            Very faintly, goblin voices and laughter could be heard from the wall to his left.
            Seeing that the groups progress had ended with the only choice remaining was to go back Rhaina quietly asked Quickfoot to listen and see if he could tell if a Goblin had come into the courtyard “If one has come to investigate the dogs ,I suggest a quick assault to try and take the Goblin down” Bergi,you and Quickfoot could step out clearing the way for I’Daiin and myself to charge,while perhaps firing at the Goblin if possible”
            Listening to Rhaini's plan the cleric says, "What should I do?"
            “Forgive me,my friend” The paladin whispered,bowing slightly in apology “I am unused to being asked to make decisions for others. If your armor does not permit you to cover the distance to make a charge,then perhaps your crossbow could be employed.?”
            Quickfoot went back and listened, then cracked the door open a little and peered up at the tower. "Coast is clear," he whispered back to the others, scratching himself with an embarrassed look.
            Once into the courtyard Rhaina wasted little time looking over the doors and she pointed to the one that seemed to lead into the largest part of the Fort “Let’s cross and check out that door” I'Daiin nodded and trotted quickly and quietly to the door, weapon ready.
            Durriken nods to Rhaini and pulls his crossbow from his back and loads a bolt. He stands at the ready for the group to move out into the courtyard and will actively look for targets as they move.

24


            It was a relief to get out into the open air again, away from the stench of the goblin dogs. The door in the corner was latched the same way the other one had been, and was easily opened. The party clustered along the wall to avoid being seen from the towers as Rhaina peeked inside.
            Inside, Rhaina saw that there was a large room, the floor hard-packed soil, as if the builders had either run out of lumber after building the walls and roof, or had simply never thought about building a floor. A number of poorly preserved horse and dog heads leered from where they were mounted on the wall to her left, while straight ahead there was a pair of large black-feathered wings tacked to the wall with daggers.
            Perhaps of more interest, she could also see the main doors to the fort - they were dangling open, letting in the light, and goblin voices could be heard from outside.
            Directly to her left, a corridor with many doors ran deeper into the fort, while ahead, the room continued around a corner to the right.
            Durriken was grateful to be out of the stinky hallway and to leave the goblin dog carcasses behind. He moved off to the side of the others and hoisted his crossbow upwards to rest against across his chest and on his shoulder while Rhaina checked the door. He awaited word from the others whether to move forward to check an alternate route.
            Rhaina noted that the others seemed to be looking to her for their next move,so for the time being she nodded to the others “Durriken and Bergi,if you could keep your bows trained on the main doors,while I’Daiin prepares to move up quickly and engage whatever should appear through them.? I will watch the corridor to our left,while I’m hoping that you,Quickfoot can secure this door behind us to at least slow down anyone,or anything;such as whatever is in that shed from boxing us in from the rear”
            Everyone moved into position as I'Daiin crept forward to ascertain what was around the corner of the room, one eye on the doors to the outside. It turned out that there was another set of double doors in the room, also leading deeper into the fort.
            Rhaina nodded at the news and took a moment to look around “That door on the right is probably a mess hall and we know there are goblins in the area that the double doors on the left likely lead to, She shrugged”If it were up to me I would say we take that first set of doors on the left and head for the largest collection of enemy while we are all still fresh.What do you think?”
            The barbarian growled. "It's high time we attacked something," he said to his fellow Shoanti.
            The double doors to the left of where the party had entered the fort were actual ship's doors, set in a frame and holding locks, but they swung in easily at a push, the locks unused. Revealed was a broad hallway that led to a second set of double doors similar to the first. Beyond them, the loud but muffled sound of goblin revelry suggested a large group of goblins lay within.
            In a hushed voice the Paladin spoke to the others “You,Durriken and Quickfoot will need to pull the doors open for I’Daiin and myself to enter and engage the goblins,hopefully without going too far into the room. I hope that we can keep together and hold the fight long enough to close them behind us to block the noise from alerting the rest of the fort,when the three of you follow us in. Depending on the layout,Durriken ;you can decide whether it would be best to use your crossbow or mace” “Questions?”
            Durriken nods and says, "Perhaps Quickfoot could ready to open the doors behind us if we are overmatched. If not, he can support us with range. I'll do likewise unless I am needed up front. For now, let me call upon Pharasma to bless us as we engage the enemy." Durriken closes his eyes and prayers to Pharasma asking for her blessings upon the party as they prepare for battle.
            Quickfoot agreed to Durriken's advice, and once the cleric had granted them Pharasma's chill blessing, Durriken and Bergi hauled open the double doors leading into the goblins' lair, allowing the light of their sunrod to spill into the dark room.

25


            A large throne room was revealed, decorated with hanging furs along its walls - mostly black-and-red striped firepelt skins, various dog pelts, and in some cases, what looked like horse hides. Four square timbers supported the ceiling, their faces studded with dozens of iron spikes, with the lower reaches decorated with dozens of impaled and severed hands in various stages of decay.
            In the midst of the haphazard court, flanked and menaced between five horsechopper-wielding goblin escorts, stood a shirtless and battered half-elf. His wrists were bound with rope behind his back, his hair hung about him in a tangled, crusty mess, and a stain of dried blood ran from a scabbed wound on his right temple down the side of his face and neck. Several ugly, discolored bruises dotted his chest, back and arms.
            In the dim far corner of the room, a wooden platform supported a throne heaped with dog pelts and horse hides. Dog skulls adorned the armrests, and a horse skull leered over the throne's back. A goblin wearing a dented crown and a fancy breastplate stood on the seat, his laughter cut short by the entrance of the party. It could only be Ripnugget, the goblins' chief.
            Beside him, an enormous lizard fitted with a saddle raised its head curiously. On the other side of the throne, a singing goblin abruptly fell silent, staring at the intruders in amazement along with all the other goblins.
            The doors opening and the spill of light heralded a change in circumstances. The haggard half-elf turned his head just enough to observe what was happening; he was beat down, but not so much he did not still attempt to quietly maintain awareness, assessing.
            These were not more goblins entering. These were not more captives being thrown in for sport.
            His eyes widened slightly. This was hope.
            Though taken by surprise at the entrance, reflexively, his body changed posture -- his stance widening, his knees bending, his feet planting, his thoughts discarding previously-considered plans to rapidly permit new alternatives to form, his eyes shrewdly sweeping the room from behind a partial disheveled veil of stiff and soiled light brown hair.
            Taking in the scene, Durriken sees the prisoner slumped as well as all the guards and other hostiles in the room. Pausing for a moment he decides on a course of action and begins to cast a spell. In an instant, a ethereal dagger appears about RipNugget's head and silently plunges downward to stab at the goblin leader.
            Some sixth sense for danger, honed by years among the goblins, must have alerted the goblin chieftain, for he squawked and jerked away from the faintly gleaming dagger's strike. Even so, the ethereal weapon proved its lethal nature by scoring a path on the goblin's fancy steel breastplate.
            Rhaina took in the scenario before her and as she passed Quickfoot,she hastily whispered to the Elf “Quickfoot,engage the Goblin near the Chief and direct the captive in Elven to find Bergi to get his bonds cut” She charged the cluster of Goblins guarding the captive knowing that time was not on his side;her Greatsword whirling in a practiced arc intending to Cleave the guardsmen and clear a path for him
            “I'Daiin, Patua nga k?karep? i te kaha waenganui ki te hoatu i te whakaraua he whai w?hi ki te tiki taea whawhai free.We mo te tangata e whiwhi ki te rangatira i muri i taua” (“I'Daiin, Hit the Goblins in the middle hard to give the captive a chance to get free.We can fight over who gets the Chief after that”)
            I'Daiin's answer was a wordless roar as he fell into a wide-eyed rage, charging the goblins with his magic longsword, its glittering edge promising only a quick death.
            And just like that, the first two goblin guards were cut down. Rhaina's victim was struck so hard that she lifted it off its feet and slammed it into the spike-studded beam it stood near, leaving it draped amid the grotesque collection of hands.
            Quickfoot, tasked with watching their escape route even as chaos exploded in the room at the end of the hallway, ventured far enough forward to obey Rhaina's suggestion, nocking an arrow to his bow. <"Friend, you are free! Come to us and let us cut your bonds,"> he yelled in Elvish to the half-elf standing ready among the remaining goblins.
            Bergi's sweet voice filled the air with a well-known song of heroics, strengthening the group's arms and filling them with resolve.
            Seeing that Quickfoot is helping the prisoner, Durriken focuses on the battle instead and the leader in particular. The spiritual dagger once again slashes downward in an attempt to stab Ripnugget while Durriken casts another spell at the goblin leader. A feeling of doom starts to creep into Ripnugget's mind as the cleric completes his spell.
            This time the goblin couldn't avoid the flashing dagger, which came away red as Ripnugget howled, a hand clapped to the gash in his face. His beady eyes widened as he watched the party mow down his warriors, and he shrank back for a moment - but he was in the heart of his own territory, and wouldn't give it up without a fight.
            Recovering from his surprise before any of his subjects, he hopped into the saddle of the lizard resting by the side of his throne before anyone could blink - and they zipped up the wall and onto the ceiling while Ripnugget pulled out and drank from a tiny flask.
            He screamed something in his own tongue at his gaping goblins as the party closed in on them.
            Rhaina was momentarily pleased that the Chief chose not to close and attack immediately as it would give their new ally a chance to get his hands free and perhaps join the melee
            She turned briefly to the Shoanti raging at her side "Whanaunga, ka neke ahau i mua ki te whai w?hi i te mua e rua o me.Can whiwhi koutou ki to ratou atua maori tona, ka pupuri i ia i te whakamahi i tona makutu?" (“"Kinsman,I will move ahead to engage the two ahead of me.Can you get to their wizard and keep him from using his magic?")
            As the Paladin moved forward she spared a quick glance for the Elf “Devin,If you would withdraw to our Bard’s side she will be best suited to cut your bonds” She closed quickly with the two Goblins and attacked the one paying more attention to Devin,than to her
            The goblin screamed and dove behind one of the pillars, nearly impaling itself on its way.
            I'Daiin, his face glowering, nodded and ran at the wizard wordlessly, charging into an attack with his longsword, heedless of any other enemies. Despite the warchanter's sudden scramble to escape, I'Daiin cut her down easily.
            “Quickfoot,if you would I’d love to know what he just yelled and I hope you can make him pay for his tactic” Rhaina called.
            "He told them to get moving, though it sounds a lot worse in Goblin," Quickfoot called back, taking aim at Ripnugget on the ceiling. He flinched at something, and his arrow went nowhere near the chief. Growling, he scratched at his bow hand irritably. "Damn goblin dogs!"
            Without a word the half-elf adapts to the opportunity presented, lithely jumping over the fallen goblins and clear of the warded circle, and continuing in a twisting rush to through the welcoming doors and past the two arrivals who had not yet entered the room. He half-turned and quickly presented his back-bound arms to be cut free.
            "Daggers or shortsword; whatever you can spare," he urged, fully willing to return all the ill favors the goblins had bestowed upon him.
            Finally recovering from their initial astonishment, the goblins turned their horsechoppers on Rhaina, circling around her with yells and snippets of singing. Not one of them could penetrate her whirling defense, however; her blade was everywhere, blocking their every move.
            Bergi continued to sing even as she cut Devin's hands free with her oversized shortsword. She offered it to him; it had the look of an Ulfen blade, with wolves' heads forming the hilt and grasping the blade in their jaws. Her eyes follow it with fondness, and its sentimental importance is obvious.
            At Durriken's command, the faintly glowing dagger chased after Ripnugget - only to bounce off his skin! It began to dissipate, its magic spent.
            With a resounding warcry, Ripnugget whipped out a gleaming shortsword and urged his lizard mount into action. The beast zipped down from the ceiling and across the floor in a flash, tearing past I'Daiin and up the far wall again to the ceiling.
            Ripnugget cackled and flicked blood off his wickedly sharp shortsword as I'Daiin realized he'd been cut, even through his thick hide. "You sneaksy longshanks think you take Thistletop? Warchief Ripnugget teach you lesson!" the goblin said in scratchy Taldane with an evil grin. The other goblins yelled in approval.
            Seeing his spiritual weapon dissipate as he moves, the cleric takes his mace and swings at the goblin just a few steps from him hoping to club it into submission. As manically quick as all goblins, the focus of his attack jumped out of the way and shook its butt at Durriken.
            Rhaina held her ground and once again attempted to cleave her Greatsword through both of the Goblins
            Yet again the wretched goblins evaded her blade! Scampering about like crazed cats, they jeered and blew raspberries at the cool-headed paladin.
            I'Daiin charged toward the goblin north of Rhaina, intending to chop it in half. He swung his longsword as he ran, its blade still wet with the blood of the goblin warchanter.
            The catcalling goblin never knew what hit it. I'Daiin's red blade chopped halfway through its chest, and it dropped with a baffled gurgle.
            Quickfoot had no better luck than Rhaina, however, with the goblin chief on the ceiling ducking behind the hand-draped beams to avoid his arrow. Ripnugget snarled something at the goblins below, something that Bergi heard clearly: <"Get Bruthazmus and the warriors!">
            Devin took the offered ulfen blade quickly to hand with a quick and silent nod of thanks... and a goblin-directed promise to put it to solid use. He stepped around the corner, noted the mounted goblin king hiding upon the ceiling on his climbing lizard-thing, and smiled with provoked and vengeful intent, intoning, "Kiss the floor, you green bastard."
            Devin raised one hand, gestured just so, pointed sharply towards the riding lizard Ripnugget rode upon, barked an odd syllable, and sent a coruscating ray towards the climbing lizard.
            Unfortunately, Ripnugget was wary of an attack on his mount - the lizard proved as quick as its master, zipping away from the ray with a croak of protest as Ripnugget yanked on its reins and kicked its tender sides. <"Stickfoot, go!"> he yelled in the goblin tongue, waving his shortsword about wildly.
            Momentarily distracted by the light of the ray, Rhaina missed the sneaky attack of one of the goblins that flanked her, and paid for it in blood. The other goblin, however, heeded its chief and backed away from the combat, headed for a door in the corner of the room.
            Vexed by the goblin's quick movements, Durriken attempts again to strike it with his weapon, hoping this time to compensate for its quick, erratic movements. The goblin ran all about him, ducking between his legs, vaulting over his mace with its horsechopper, and bouncing off the wall, impossible to hit.
<"Chief Ripnugget always win!
Knife the longshanks in the shins!
Teach them to leave us alone!
Thistletop be goblin home!">
            Ripnugget sang as he circled the room on the ceiling, hanging onto his dented crown as he eyed the lone goblin who was nearly cornered below. She jumped up and down and shrieked approval, not realizing her precarious position just yet. Their scratchy voices couldn't drown out Bergi's rousing song, however.
            Frustrated by her inability to strike these capering goblins Rhaina decided on a change of tactics”" “The goblin mustn't be allowed to leave(Indicating the one by Durriken);or else we’ll have this whole fort down on us!” The Shoanti swung the Greatsword back as if to bring it down,but instead allowed it’s weight to pivot her on her back foot. She released one hand,brushing her skin as she spun fully around,her foot nearly colliding with the goblin. As she brought her free hand around;it too was aimed at the gibbering creature at her feet She completed the move,her free hand returning to the hilt,back in the guard position
            In a display of speed almost as impressive as Rhaina's attack, the goblin darted, ducked and bounced out of harm's way, unwisely jeering at the increasingly frustrated paladin and poking at her with its horsechopper.
            The barbarian moved swiftly to engage the final goblin on the ground, his strike far less graceful than his paladin cousin, but backed by the full savage force of his battle trance. As he stabbed out with his dripping longsword, he growled to the room in general. "Nock an arrow at the roof-crawler, already," he muttered through snarling lips. This time the goblin wasn't fast enough to fully evade the wrath of the Shoanti, and it suffered a deep gash in its side. Tiny eyes wide, the goblin cowered back, one hand going to its pocket.
            "I'm trying, I'm trying!" Quickfoot answered, sending another shot Ripnugget's way. The chief sneered at him as the missile bounced off his armor.
            Sensing the urgency in the calls between the party, Devin elects to help prevent the fleeing goblin from leaving the room. The half-elf coalesces a ball of shadow in his palm and hurls it at the goblin's head, and takes off in a run to reposition himself to take advantage of the result. The goblin shook its head briefly, but still turned to reach for the door handle.
            The wounded goblin backed up against the wall, drawing a tiny flask from her pocket. She slurped the contents down, and the blood that had been pouring from her wound slowed, then stopped. She tossed the flask away and lowered her horsechopper at I'Daiin, eyes wildly seeking an escape route.
            The goblin by the door yanked it open and tried to escape down the revealed hallway. Devin was able to stab it on the way, but it evaded Durriken's attack and ran around the corner, screaming in its own tongue that the fort was under attack. By the sound of it, it hadn't gotten far yet.
            Nodding, the halfling pulled out her little bow and notched an arrow. She pointed it at the goblin chieftain on the ceiling with gusto whilst singing. Bergi's aim was true - but again the arrow simply bounced off the side of Ripnugget's head. He shook his fist at her and swore, and being goblin-swearing, it was very foul indeed.
            Annoyed that he had been unable to finish off the goblin before it fled, Durriken rushes down the hallway attempting to at least stop it from getting too far. The goblin really hadn't gotten far - Durriken nearly ran into it where it was pushing futilely at a door. Spotting Durriken, it backed up and was about to try pulling the handle instead when the Pharasman clonked its head with a sound like a cowbell. The modified saucepan it had been wearing for a helmet fell off, and it staggered back and forth for a few seconds, eyes crossing and uncrossing, before it shook its rattled head and got its horsechopper between itself and the cleric.
            Singing with great gusto and a horribly false voice, Ripnugget sped Stickfoot off the ceiling, down the wall and across the floor by I'Daiin once more, gashing the Shoanti badly. Safe on the ceiling again, the chieftain cackled, waving his dented iron crown about.
            Seeing that I’Daiin had the Goblin in hand and that Ripnugget was truly the main problem Rhaina hit upon a plan Dropping her Greatsword she draws her bow (potentially readying an arrow if she has time)and waited for the Chieftain to act
            I'Daiin continued to harry the goblin to the west, hacking at it to ensure its death. "Do I have to climb up there to get the leader?" he growled - hacking down the goblin's pitiful defense with a slash to the belly.
            “Hopefully I can bring him down with my Bow” Rhaina said.
            "Easier said than done - my arrows have bounced right off him!" Quickfoot exclaimed, moving up beside Rhaina on the far side of the grisly ironclad beam. His next arrow came nowhere close to striking the goblin, as the elf cursed and had to scratch at his skin suddenly, ruining the shot.
            Devin steps west, slams the ulfen blade into the goblin carcass for safekeeping and ready upright subsequent availability, drops to a knee, and sets to quick scavenge the goblin's bow and a few arrows; no more than he can grasp along with the bow, leaving one hand free for set, draw, and loose.
            Outside the grungy throne room, the goblin Durriken was after yanked open the door and raced away into the darkness, screaming bloody murder. Durriken could hear it scrabbling at something nearby, likely another door.
            Inside, Bergi moved up to shoot at Ripnugget as well, but she couldn't strike him either. Her song continued to inspire the others to greater heroism.
            “Father Durriken,we would be ever grateful for Pharasma’s grace,if you would. Bergi,Can you put your slip and slide spell on the floor on this side of that door,once all our group has come back into the room”?(indicating the door that the goblin run out through) “We should shoot the lizard,he cannot get away from us without it and it may be easier to hit”
            Bergi gave the universal sign of approval with an upturned thumb and prepared the butter. However, she narrowed her eyes. She could put it on the floor as was asked... or she could put it on the ceiling. It was a rare spark of genius in battle, if it could be called that at all.
            Hearing a call for healing and realizing the dangers of following a goblin into the dark, Durriken returns to the main battle area. He then calls upon Pharasma's might to unleash a wave of healing energy's over the group.
            The cool wind that rose over the battlefield washed away the party's hurts, but had an unintended effect. Devin's shortsword fell to the packed earth as it was pushed from the body of the goblin he had stabbed it into, and the goblin, along with several others, stirred, looking about in dawning fear.
            Ripnugget laughed, and waved his sword at the party. "Warchief Ripnugget win this fight!" Spurring his lizard, he charged down the wall while singing the Thistletop battle song - and was met by Rhaina, who didn't shoot at him, but rather aimed a kick at his mount's head.
            Even the chief's skillful handling of the lizard couldn't keep it out of the path of Rhaina's foot, but it did turn what would have been a stunning blow into merely a painful one. The lizard hissed as it continued on past Rhaina and Quickfoot - drawing another crunching blow from Rhaina - but Ripnugget's target was I'Daiin, and he goaded Stickfoot on towards the hulking Shoanti.
            The gash he gave I'Daiin was vicious, spraying blood everywhere, and Ripnugget yodeled triumphantly as he and Stickfoot rushed back up to the ceiling - unaware of Bergi's plot. Stickfoot's gait was crooked, evidence of the pounding Rhaina had given it.
            Hissing with pain and rocked back by the force of the assault, I'Daiin turned to cut at the slightly healed goblin in front of him with his longsword. "You won't survive this, and I will," he mumbled at Ripnugget, his teeth and chin dripping blood.
            His vision doubled as his greivous wounds took their toll, and the prone goblin managed to roll out of the way of his sword with a squeak of terror. Before it could gather itself, Quickfoot grabbed its horsechopper and stepped back, tossing the little weapon aside. Smoothly drawing an arrow, Quickfoot shot the goblin in the chest, ending the nuisance.
            Devin moves southwest five feet and casts True Strike. Moments later, the light dims in an aura about him, and coalesces like smoke rising in reverse to coil about his arms, hands, and the bow he is carrying.
            The other two goblins that had stirred after Durriken's prayer yelped and scrambled to escape. The one Devin had stabbed grabbed his Ulfen shortsword and darted past Bergi and Devin the way the party had come in; the warchanter was hot on his heels, lucky that Rhaina was so focused on Stickfoot.
            The halfling spared I'Daiin a concerned glance before making one last risk assessment. Ripnugget had to be stopped more than the rest of the goblins, who were harmless in comparison.
            She stopped her song and turned her attention to making the ceiling an unforgiving place.
            <"You cowards come back and fight! Ripnugget feed you to Howling Hole! Ripn-"> The goblin chief's threats were cut off as Stickfoot's ability to stick to the ceiling was abruptly negated. The lizard and its rider plummeted down to the floor with a satisfying thud.

26


            Seeing the effect of his channel energy, Durriken takes a more direct approach and moves to heal I'Daiin. Picking his way past the fallen goblins, he approached as Ripnugget struggled out from under Stickfoot.
            “Mighty Ripnugget must now fight instead of hiding on the ceiling” Laughing and taunting Ripnugget, Rhaina drew her temple sword and fell on the goblin with it, slicing him as he struggled free of the weight of Stickfoot. His skin was oddly tough, and her sword rebounded from it at times, but she still managed to wound him badly - and I'Daiin wasn't slow to take advantage of the prone goblin either. Ripnugget screeched as the Shoantis' swords plunged through his limbs.
            Bleeding and wild-eyed, Ripnugget nevertheless demonstrated why he had risen to become chief of the Thistletop goblins. He lunged at I'Daiin, his shortsword penetrating the Shoanti's thick hide, and rode him down to the floor. Hopping back atop his fallen mount, his back to the wall, he screamed at the fleeing goblins, <"Come back or Ripnugget kill you all!">
            Quickfoot stowed his bow and hopped over I'Daiin as he drew his rapier, cutting off that path of retreat for the unfortunate chief. "Not so hot on the ground, are you, goblin?" he sneered.
            Devin took one step to his left and drew the goblin bow back to bead upon the lizard as if there were a hole through the air straight to it. In his mind's eye, he saw the lizard grow in his vision as he sighted across the top of the arrow until he was certain he was on target, and he loosed. Devin then spun southward, drawing a second arrow to bow as he did so, and loosed again at the goblin attempting to make off with the ulfen blade Devin had been graciously entrusted with.
            He could hear the meaty thock of his arrow punching into the fallen lizard, but the goblin in the broad hallway was expecting some retaliation, and managed to jerk aside from the path of the arrow Devin sent at it. It paused to wave its butt at Devin while the warchanter hauled open the doors and disappeared around the corner, screeching and yelling in a manner that was sure to bring reinforcements before long. Through the open doors, Bergi and Devin could see a wounded goblin throwing open the entrance doors to the fort, shouting as well.
            The goblin mooning Devin popped back up with a vial in its grubby hand, and slugged back the contents. Its visible wounds closed after a moment, and it flung the vial at Devin's head, invigorated.
            A moment later, three more horsechopper-wielding goblins came pouring out of the hallway Durriken had been down, singing triumphantly.
<"Thistletop goblins always win,
Thistletop goblins eat your skin!
Chop the horse and slice the hound,
Bury longshanks in the ground!">
            Furious at the injuries caused to her allies, Bergi started her song again, though at the expense of the goblins. She made careful note of the rhythm and tried to use some of their own chords against them.
<"Thistletop goblins really thin,
way too weak to ever win!
Longshanks kick and longshanks slice,
Goblins run like frightened mice!
Drown inside your deepest sin,
Know that we can take your kin.
Run now, it's not too late!
Before Shoanti rises and seals your fate!">
            Some of the goblins actually began to sing along with Bergi before grinding to a halt when they realized what they were singing. They gaped in furious astonishment at the bard, and though her friends (mostly) didn't understand her words, their spirits were lifted.
            Durriken reached I'Daiin, and at his prayer, the Shoanti felt consciousness return - along with a familiar deep fatigue. Looking around, he realized he was lying in the dirt of the goblin fort.
            Seeing that Durriken was taking care of I’Daiin’s wounds the Paladin moved to give her cousin cover while she continued to assault the Goblin Chief
            One of her stabs got through the Cheif's barklike skin, and he snarled for the other goblins to come help him. He tried to retaliate, but his swings stopped cold inches from Rhaina's body, blocked by the invisible armor she wore - and his own fearful sense of doom.
            Everyone could hear yelling coming from the front of the fort, where the wounded goblin who had escaped earlier was raising the alarm.
            I'Daiin rose heavily to his feet, swaying, and wordlessly picked up his sword, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Ripnugget. His mouth moved, but no words were intelligible through the crust of blood drying on his face.
            As he rose, Ripnugget took the opportunity to gouge him with his wickedly sharp and gleaming shortsword, but it wasn't quite enough to fell the great warrior again. A moment too late, Quickfoot came to I'Daiin's defense, driving Ripnugget back with his rapier.
            Devin snarled right back at the goblins, echoing Ripnugget; these things were like a horde of rats and just as verminous. Devin took one graceful stride back west to the wall, drew the last goblin arrow he had to bow, and let it fly point-blank at the risen goblin due east of him. The manic little bastard was too fast, jittering aside and then gibbering at him in its own tongue. Bergi's ears burned at what it had to say.
            Devin followed up by deftly kicking the doors to the south closed; attempting to limit the influx of irksome reinforcements.
            He noticed that there was a bar leaned against the wall, and holders for it on the doors, as well as a lock in the door itself; apparently Warchief Ripnugget wasn't entirely sanguine about his position at Thistletop.
            His eyes were already searching the mottled floor and the bodies upon it for more arrows of opportunity; he needed more ammunition. Unfortunately, the only goblin arrows not currently on a yelling goblin were in a quiver on a body at the feet of a yelling goblin, but Bergi's quiver bristled with arrows of the right size just beside him.
            A moment later, the doors he had just shut were pulled open, and the goblin holding Hrolfr's shortsword jumped at him, scoring a minor but painful slice into his unprotected side. The bard hit a off-putting note and felt her eyes widen at the object in the goblin's hand. How dare he? How dare he?! Using that blade, the bastard...! Her knuckles clenched. It was bad enough the battle was falling away from their favor, but this she could not abide. She should have just listened to Rhaina and greased the passage, but-
            While Bergi was distracted by the darting little terror, two of the goblins facing her stabbed her with their horsechoppers, making her vision swim with pain. Though the party could hear the agony in her voice, she never stopped singing, even as the goblins jeered at her.
            The last goblin that had charged in from the side door used its height to advantage, darting around Durriken's legs and jabbing up with its horsechopper, giving him a number of small wounds that began to add up.
            The halfling stomped her left foot into the ground and held her bow defensively in front of herself, eyes flitting from each goblin to the next, going back to the taunts.
<"Goblins hiss and goblins mad,
but goblin punches not so bad!
So what are goblins proud about?
Goblins couldn't hurt a trout!
So stab the longshanks while theys down,
Goblins piss off Sandpoint town.
Down they'll come with bigun mutts,
Wielding swords to kick your butts!">
            The goblins seemed taken aback by Bergi's song; at least, they stopped singing their own. Some cast speculative glances toward their surrounded erstwhile leader. Still, they didn't throw down their weapons.
            Durriken yelps from the quick succession of stabs from the goblin that slid under him and responds with an angry slam of his mace, hoping to cave the creature's skull in.
            Though the impact didn't stave in the goblin's skull (mostly due to the pot it was wearing as a helmet), it certainly must have cracked it. The goblin howled and grabbed at the ringing pot to still it, nearly dropping its horsechopper in its distress.
            Realizing that things were going from bad to worse,the Paladin concentrated on dealing judgement to the Chieftain “If possible we need to get that door we came in from closed and barred,otherwise we are going to be facing many more Goblins” She said to no-one in particular
            Her chiming sword flashed in the light as Rhaina drove Ripnugget farther and farther back into his corner with heroic effort, each blow harder than the last, but between the chief's speed, skill with his sword, armor and mysterious toughness, she was unable to give him more than a few warning scratches. Truly, Ripnugget had earned his place as the Thistletop tribe's Warchief.
            At Rhaina's warning, he barked a laugh that was tinged with blood. "You longshanks not never go home now! Thistletop goblins got best songs, best fighters, best bits of longshanks to eat!"
            Ignoring the staggering I'Daiin, he lunged full-tilt into Rhaina, and his gleaming shortsword went snicker-snack as he clambered all over the paladin, stabbing her as he went. She managed to throw him off quickly, but the damage was done - the fierce little goblin cackled and bounced off the walls as he fished around in his pockets, bringing out a tiny flask. He parried Rhaina's expected attack, and Quickfoot's as well - but he wasn't expecting I'Daiin to be able to do much, and the Shoanti taught him differently.
            <"Lamashtu's spit!"> Ripnugget screeched in the goblin tongue as I'Daiin jerked his longsword out of the goblin's flesh. The manic chieftain turned his hateful red eyes back on I'Daiin, having realized his mistake in not killing the barbarian when he had the chance. Tilting his bent and battered iron crown forward, he faced off against his three opponents, nervousness betrayed by his flickering gaze.
            Swaying on his feet, clearly exhausted, and dripping blood from multiple places, the barbarian stabbed out at Ripnugget. "You...will meet...your grave...first", he whispered, bringing his longsword's point to bear against the formidable goblin. Unfortunately, his many wounds had taken their toll on the proud Shoanti, and he was unable to pin the crazed goblin to the wall.
            Looking at I'Daiin, the cleric wanted to help but worried about healing their enemies. He could exclude a few but not all. "We need to finish off the wounded," he did as he swung his mace at the already rattled goblin.
            The little bard looked up to the newcomer pleadingly, continuing to ready her reflexes to the best of her ability.
            "Doing what I can," Devin sighed, ill-equipped and nearly overrun by resuscitated goblins, and he'd lost her sword to boot. The pathetic little goblin-bow in his hand was beyond inadequate by comparison, but it was all he had. He considered lifting a dagger from Bergi's belt for his own purposes, but guessed that'd be insult to injury after the first sword.
            Devin pulled the south corridor doors shut again and made a point to pull down the beam to bar the two doors, jamming them in the hopes he might hold at least the stronger, now-healed goblin to the south off for a bit longer. The move shifted him east, coming up alongside Bergi and putting him square in the face of at least two of the three goblins threatening her.
            "Pigsticker, ho," he snarled and lashed out with the subpar pilfered shortbow.
            The goblins that had been harrying Bergi let her be for the moment to focus on this larger threat. One swept its horsechopper at Devin's knees, which he jumped over easily - but as he landed, he took a jab from the other goblin's readied weapon. The goblins paused to high-five eachother, but were quickly reminded of their surroundings when Devin smacked one on the head with his bow.
            Already rattled by Durriken's last heavy blow, the still-vibrating goblin opposing him couldn't seem to hit the cleric (possibly due to its frequently crossing eyes). In its unpredictable near-drunken stumbling, it managed to avoid the worst of the hits Durriken rained down on it.
            By the pounding on the doors Devin had just closed, and the clamor behind them, it seemed he had prevented a tide of goblins from rushing to the defense of their fort. It couldn't be long before they remembered the side door that Durriken had chased one of them down, however.
            "I've got enough magic to deal with a small group," Quickfoot told his friends, while concentrating on keeping Ripnugget away from I'Daiin. "I just can't leave long enough to use it! Switch places with me, Durriken?"
            Heeding Quickfoot's words with a nod, Durriken shifted places with him and readied his healing surge prayer once again, trying to focus on his placement to heal as many party members as possible and excluding as many enemies at the same time.
            Rhaina whirled her sword about Ripnugget in a deadly net, and the chief fought like a cornered rat - he was so busy fending her off that he had no more time for threats and insults - but she couldn't land a telling blow. She reached out to touch I'Daiin a moment before Ripnugget tore into him again - surely, the healing she conveyed was the only thing that kept the bulky man on his feet.
            Ripnugget tossed back the contents of the tiny flask he held, likely thinking the risk to be low - but Rhaina wasn't as preoccupied with I'Daiin as she looked. In a flash, she stabbed her sword into the goblin chieftain, and he half-choked on the liquid pouring down his gullet. His unnatural toughness saved him from similar attacks by Durriken and I'Daiin, but the wariness in his beady red eyes had turned to outright fear under the assault.
            "Enough," gasped I'Daiin, pushing his sword again towards the chieftain's midsection. "Someone who is further from death than I should grab him," he croaked. The powerful Shoanti was obviously close to dropping, and his swing was a hair too slow. Ripnugget grinned; the vicious little goblin was positively gloating at I'Daiin's impending death.
            Then Quickfoot spoke an incantation, throwing a handful of colored sand at the goblins harrying Bergi and Devin - and the sand transformed mid-throw to a kaleidoscope of shifting, sparking colors that blasted all around the goblins, leaving Bergi and Devin untouched. Two of the goblins dropped like their strings had been cut, while the one in the middle hid its eyes and shrieked in alarm.
            When it looked up, its tiny eyes widened even further as it realized the odds against it had changed to three against one.
            Devin grunted with frustration as he cracked the goblin rather ineffectually over the head with the meek shortbow. He eyed the dagger on Bergi's belt and admitted, "I need another." Without really waiting for permission but anticipating she'd put up no resistance to the attempt, he drew one of her available blades to hand, held onto the shortbow with disdain but practicality, and stabbed at the goblin to his east.
            The dagger, sized for a halfling's hand, was difficult to grasp properly, and his stab didn't penetrate the goblin's armor as it might have. Still, it was enough to convince the goblin that it didn't want to stay. Backing up warily, once it was out of reach, it turned and ran. Bergi could understand its words: <"Over here, stupids! Over here!">
            A quick scan over her shoulder told the Paladin that only Ripnugget remained in the room,but that could soon change if they didn’t deal with the other entrance “Devin,I have a Longsword,scabbard and belt that you can use. Bergi,do you have anything that can slow down the reinforcements that could soon arrive through the other door?”
            "Readily accepted, but busy," Devin acknowledged but made no move towards Rhiana to remove further equipment from her already very-light attire. Instead, as Bergi moved to bar the side door into the room, Devin knelt to the now-unconscious goblins at his feet and set about slitting throats to keep them down.
            Clearly fine with her compatriot further disarming her, Bergi looked at the door with vexation. "Yes, but I think... it would be better if I bar it..." No longer immediately threatened, the bard tried to gauge risks, because one more good hit could certainly take her out of the fight, and she should heal herself soon. She moved to bar the door in question, though, as she trusted Rhaina's judgement.
            The noise level in the room had quieted briefly,with the demise of the goblins behind her and Rhaina heard Bergi’s question regarding barring the door . Without turning away from the fight before her she offered a suggestion “It’s a good idea,Bergi, but please don’t go alone,in case more Goblins arrive. And maybe you should wait for healing first as well”
            With Rhaina's point being obvious, Bergi waits until after Durriken is able to work his magic to go forward.
            Seeing no alternative given the damaged state of the party, Durriken calls upon Pharasma's healing magical surge bring careful to exclude Ripnugget and as many of the goblins as possible.
            It was surprising how quickly Pharasma's chill touch had become comforting to the party, but the cool breeze that blew among them eased their hurts and gave them a second wind. Not just them, unfortunately - two goblins also groaned and sat up.
            Bergi twirled past the nearest one, just reaching the door in time to hear the sound of goblins growing louder.
            Rhaina spoke in Shoanti ,for privacies sake and asked for the Goddess’s favor “Dawnflower I pray thee,aid our cause to seek justice and safety for the people of Sandpoint in their struggle with this enemy” As always after she prayed Rhaina ,felt an uplift from both her faith as well as the healing of Pharasma and she pressed the advantage with Ripnugget
            A snarl escaped her lips as she focused on the rhythm of her sword “Ripnugget.Either you die this day or I do.
            Try as she might, when she split her focus in order to strike faster, she simply wasn't able to penetrate Ripnugget's defense. The goblin chief was even able to deliver a stinging cut to her arms in retaliation. "You die before Ripnugget, longshanks," Ripnugget puffed with bravado, though his eyes darted about, looking for somewhere to run. "When goblins get in here, you all die!"
            As if heartened by the Shoanti words to the Sun Goddess, I'Daiin nodded and pressed to attack Ripnugget once more, still bleeding despite Durriken's careful healing. "I could sleep," he murmured to no one in particular, despite his slight surge in energy.
            In his weakened state, I'Daiin couldn't punch through the goblin's armor and tough hide. Quickfoot did worse, missing the newly-awoken goblin behind I'Daiin with his rapier, but Rhaina brought it down with a swift snap of her wrist as it scrambled to its feet, the temple sword jingling as it stabbed into the unfortunate goblin.
            Devin found the goblin whose throat he was trying to cut to be remarkably resilient, or perhaps its flesh was just unusually tough, but it refused to die! Nearby, the last goblin commando tried to stumble to its feet as well, but Quickfoot made up for his earlier lack of coordination by spitting it. He flicked blood off his rapier as the goblin sagged, then toppled over again.
            In the corner of the room, Bergi slammed the small door shut and dropped the bar into its groove, effectively locking the door.
            Now they were alone with just the one dangerous goblin left.

27


            "This has gone on long enough," Durriken said as he raised his mace to smash into Ripnugget, "The Lady of Graves awaits to escort you to the boneyard, Ripnugget. All that remains is how you choose to greet her. Your end is certain if you do not surrender now. Drop your weapons." Durriken suspects that the goblin will not and readies to strike should he not immediately comply.
            Seeing the goblin’s desperation grow,Rhaina seized upon an idea “I think I’m gonna need my Greatsword to finish this one off,Cousin”
            From the perspective of the other two engaged with Ripnugget it looked as if the Paladin turned to take a step towards the dropped weapon,but as she pivoted in that direction her foot lashed out in the direction of the goblin’s all too busy mouth The kick connected with the goblin chief's shining breastplate rather than his flapping jaw, but the armor protected him from harm. "Horseface!" Ripnugget swore, stumbling back to regain his balance.
            "Ripnugget drop sword, you kill Ripnugget! Ripnugget no dope," the goblin snarled back at the Pharasman, revealing the likely fate of anyone who surrendered to the goblins. Durriken immediately brought his mace down on the wretched Warchief, but again Ripnugget's polished armor saved him from the brunt of the attack. However, their words and their weapons had clearly added to the goblin's shaken confidence, for though he fought like the cornered rat he was, he didn't manage to do more than hold off the party.
            Twigs and dirt from the ceiling sifted down here and there as the goblins outside the doors pounded furiously and uselessly on them. From the sound of it, there were quite a few.
            I'Daiin leapt at Ripnugget, intending to enfold him in his bearlike arms. "Catch a pig, stick a pig," he said in a sing-song voice; the song lost little of its meaning when translated from the Shoanti.
            Startled, the chief slashed at I'Daiin with his shortsword, but the Shoanti batted the blade away with the back of his hand and scooped Ripnugget up, crushing him to his chest. The goblin squawked fearfully, his legs pinwheeling as he thrashed to get his wicked sword in place to stab I'Daiin with. "No pig! No piiiiig!"
            "You got him! I'm buying you a drink when we get back to town, my friend!" Quickfoot whooped, flourishing his rapier in the air before sticking it into the eye of the goblin at his feet. "Don't let him get away, guys!"
            "Damn these goblins!" Devin again took measures to slice the lifeblood out of the goblin at his feet; maybe if he were to take its head completely off, it would stop jumping back up with such persistence.
            With the goblin's head safely removed despite the difficulty of using Bergi's tiny blade, it seemed unlikely that it would continue to pester the party. Devin was quite a scary sight, goblin blood decorating his arms to the elbow.
            With so many goblins on the ground, Bergi returned to her vocal performance and moved back towards Rhaina's sword. There didn't seem to be much need to torment Ripnugget or enemies who couldn't hear her, so she kept the taunting rhymes out of her song and just focused on the basic pitch patterns. The uplifting sound of Bergi's voice lent the party strength enough to push on just... a little... longer...
            The Paladin considered her actions as she readied what she prayed would be the final strike against this goblin Chief She spoke in a low voice barely audble to those around her “You swore never to surrender and to feast on us.You deserve to die”
            Rhaina pivoted back around after her failed attempt to kick and swung her Temple sword in a precise arc aiming for a spot not covered by the armour
            Between I'Daiin's arms, the goblin's thrashing and its shiny breastplate, there was precious little space where Rhaina could strike Ripnugget, but her sword found it - only to be turned aside by that same strange toughness of his hide, tougher even than I'Daiin's.
            "You are a foul creature and I for one am tired of listening to your ramble," Durriken says, frustration etched upon his face. He changes tactics with his mace and attempts to swing upward to catch the goblin under the chin thereby by-passing the cursed armor that has saved the creature thus far.
            "Time is of the essence, my friends. We will have more visitors shortly."
            Durriken knocked Ripnugget squarely on the chin, making his dented iron crown jump - but his mace bounced off the goblin's barklike skin, proving that even when held in I'Daiin's powerful grip, the Warchief's defenses were formidable.
            Ripnugget tried to stab I'Daiin in the throat, but the fearful sense of doom that he felt caused him to be unwilling to take chances he might otherwise have done, and his reticence cost him an effective blow. His sharp sword nicked I'Daiin's thick hide in several places along his throat, but didn't cause any serious hurt.
            "Death, little pig, death," crooned the barbarian almost dementedly to the goblin, maintaining his iron grip on Ripnugget. "Can you see it coming?"
            Abandoning all dignity, Ripnugget shrieked. "NO PIGGYYYYYY!" His legs pinwheeled, hammering fruitlessly at the tough Shoanti as the frightened goblin sought to escape.
            Smiling to himself, Quickfoot continued his quiet, grisly work, stabbing another downed goblin through the eye with his rapier.
            Seeing the crowd about Ripnugget, and the continued (but panicked) squeals of the goblin leader, blood-to-the-elbows Devin calls, "Drag him out of the corner, give me a shot." Whether flanking or otherwise, they could cut the goblin down. Devin dropped the undersized goblin bow and set down the second-borrowed dagger to free his hands. Covered in blood, he drew them together, rolled his palms, cupped his hands, and congealed the accumulated grime into a roiling ball of venom, which he held in one hand and waited for an opening to loose.
            It was difficult to target the little goblin properly with Durriken and I'Daiin in the way; he didn't want to risk disfiguring them with his spell. A sudden turn by his companions and he jerked his hands up at the last moment, his ball of churning acid missing them by a hair and splattering the wall instead, where thin white trails of smoke showed where the wood had been eaten away in little pits.
            Seeing her current tactics hadn’t worked the Shoanti sheathed her Temple Sword “Room for one more Cousin?” she asked attemping a jovial tone
            She grabbed Ripnugget's kicking feet with minimal difficulty, stretching them out in front of him. Without him being able to writhe so, I'Daiin's grip was that much more firm.
            Realizing his inability to hit even a grappled opponent, Durriken vacated his position to allow someone else more suited to the task to finish the job, "We might need him alive to bargain our way out of here, my friends. Or for information."
            In the meantime, Durriken set to bashing in the brains of one of the dormant goblins on the floor. Healing would be necessary and he didn't want more of these creatures returning to pester them once again. The goblin's skull was crushed with a satisfying crunch; it wouldn't be getting up again.
            Ripnugget's shrieks got louder as I'Daiin continued to croon to him, battling with Bergi's uplifting song; his panicked attack got him nowhere. "Yes, you no kill Ripnugget, we talk!"
            Outside the throne room, the goblins continued to yell and carry on, rattling the doors and trying to wedge dogslicers between the doors and their frames to lift the bars. Being human-made, the ship's doors were sturdier and better-fitted than goblin-made work, and didn't budge.
            "Just kill him and then heal him later, Durriken," growled I'Daiin at the cleric, not quite understanding the nature of healing.
            "I'm not sure that's how it works, but I find it hard to disagree with the sentiment," Quickfoot said with a chuckle, finishing off the last of the goblins lying about.
            "Enough!" Devin snarled and cast one more spell; the small dagger in his hand practically twitched towards Ripnugget's heart, drawn to it. Devin moved up to step into the space to Ripnugget's fore that Durriken had vacated. Ripnugget's end was at hand as; with a nod to I'Daiin to maintain his hold, Devin drove in with a magically-imbued deadly strike.
            A panoply of futures unfolded before Devin, time slowing to allow him to pick the one most fortuitous. Bergi's song wound its way through each of them, boosting morale and lending strength. Bergi's little dagger punched through a gap in Ripnugget's armor, and through his thick hide, with force and precision, making the goblin scream. To everyone's astonishment, even this did not still the wriggling chief, though it was clear he could not stand much more punishment.
            "Ripnugget talk, you no kill Ripnugget, Ripnugget no start raid, it all Nualia's fault, no piggy, Ripnugget talk no kill!" the goblin babbled frantically, his desperation getting through even in broken Taldane.
            Rhaina saw that there was no way this Goblin would cooperate and reluctantly attacked the grappled foe with an eye to a merciful end
            Releasing Ripnugget's feet, Rhaina put her hands around his throat and squeezed. He sputtered and gargled and whined, but finally, the little monster's red eyes rolled up and he sagged in I'Daiin's arms, his shortsword falling to stick point-down in the bloody dirt floor.

28


            Pleased that she had finally taken him down ,but all too aware that he could have information that they needed the Paladin stopped short of finishing the Chieftain off
            The bard let out a sigh of relief and glowered at the shut doors. She twitched her swordhand and took a moment, then, to revel in victory. "Still alive, then. Count the blessings on every digit and throw away the rest."
            I'Daiin spat something red and solid and glared. "Take his magicks. We have to move. We can come back for his body later." He did not elaborate as to why they would want Ripnugget's corpse, but glanced at Devin. "You fight well."
            “He may have a way out of here.If we make certain that his lizard won’t be healed,by finishing it,then,by Pharasma’s grace we could all get some much needed healing and that would restore Ripnugget to consciousness” Rhaina said.
            The Shoanti pulled Ripnugget to his feet and turned him towards the others”Can someone please bind him ,I have no skill with rope"
            Devin puts out a hand to dissuade Rhaina from lifting the near-death (or dead) Ripnugget; any activity conducted on the goblin would be easier down with the goblin loose and prone, versus pressed against the revealingly-clad warrior.
            "We should search the room there at the back,perhaps Devin’s equipment is there and maybe also a way to get out of here” Rhaina said.
            When the Brawler approached her,Rhaina flashed him a brilliant smile”I am Rhaina Silverhair,Paladin of Saranrae. We haven’t met,but when I asked the Caravan master who you were,he gave me your name,but said you liked to keep to yourself,so I respected that. It’s nice to meet you Devin”
            "Charmed," Devin nodded to Rhaina, not unkindly, added a "Thanks," to I'Daiin for the accepting compliment, then knelt down next to Ripnugget and quickly stabbed the goblin once-king again to finish him off.
            Whether she saw the blade or just sensed something, the Paladin moved to prevent this act of sudden and unacceptable violence
            "Too much of a risk," he explained to Rhaina afterwards, unapologetically, though aware he'd disregarded her suggestion to the group, and that might have negative future repercussions. No matter. Once you are in a fight, fight viciously, fight dirty, fight to win. No half-measures. Too many goblins had been knocked down in this fight only to regain their feet far too quickly.
            “He has information we might need.What gives you the right to decide for the rest of us”? Rhaina asked. After her initial statement to Devin ,the Shoanti said nothing more but she remained vigilant while Ripnugget was thoroughly bound,gagged and searched
            Devin wiped Bergi's dagger off on a dead goblin's ragtag clothing, then flipped the blade in hand and offered it back -- pommel first -- to Bergi, adding "Sorry about the sword," in reference to the one that had been run off by a once-dead goblin.
            With his hands freed; and no weapon on his person and a significant glance to Rhaina's cautious scrutiny; he set about methodically but efficiently searching and stripping Ripnugget's corpse of valuables. Something the little bugger had on him had made him near-impervious to blades; they'd need that, in far too short of an order. Devin idly kept the shortsword Ripnugget had dropped in sight, wavering point-first in the floor as itwere; it was of significantly better quality than typical goblin make, and an appropriate size for Devin's hands. He could do much better in the next fight with such a weapon already readied.
            "Nothing in what they took worth risking a life to recover," Devin added, of the equipment he'd lost, without interrupting his work. "I could use a shortsword and sheath, maybe a couple of daggers; a decent shortbow and arrows. Usual sundries."
            Rhaina watched the dispatch of Stickfoot and after Quickfoot identified the Shortsword she turned to the group,her voice outwardly devoid of any anger. “This shortsword would seem to suit the needs of our newest ally,what do you say?
            Quickfoot can you make sure those doors are locked with these keys and then we can set about discovering a way out of here on our own?.”
            After the Goblin is bound she turned to the group’s cleric, “Father Durriken,how many more times today can we be blessed by you Lady’s healing touch? If you have sufficient I would suggest we stabilize our captive and remove him from the area of the healing,so that he will be available for questioning should we need him and have time for it. And then we should see if we can find any hidden exits from this room or the other here. I cannot believe that he wouldn’t have an escape plan,after arranging for all the front entrances to be so impregnable”
            "'appreciate your earlier offer," Devin acknowledged to Rhaina, nodding to the longsword at her hip. "But true, my hand's more for a deft shortsword, 'specially if there's a sheath for it around here somewhere." Improvised weapons, he had found, tended to slow him down in a fight, as did having no place to put them when he needed his hands free.
            Devin begins a quick but determined search through the goblin corpes, grabbing a belt here, a scabbard, the best four daggers and sheaths he could locate, a shortbow -- even a decrepit, undersized goblin one, if that's all that was available -- and a quiver stuffed with arrows. To his eye, if the shortsword won't fit in any of the scabbards to full depth, he'll ram it through until the point sticks out -- at least it'd keep his hands free.
            Still barechested, bruised, battered, and streaked with grime, equipped in ragtag scrounged materials from filthy goblins... there was a proud, determined fire in his eyes nonetheless -- he was alive and had the resolve to fight through this and survive.
            With Devin armed, Ripnugget bound with Rhaina's silk rope, and Stickfoot dispatched, the party locked the still-thumping doors that held back the goblin tide, and explored the other two doors leading from the throne room.
            The first door they opened, to the right of the barbaric throne, turned out to be the goblins' armory. Most of the weapons within were typical goblin junk, but there was one dogslicer on one of the two workbenches along the wall of more careful make, just as the horsechoppers the goblin commandos had wielded. Perhaps it had been Ripnugget's before he found his wickedly sharp shortsword.
            The second room, across from the double doors they had entered the throne room through, was luxurious by goblin standards. Several rugs made from dog or horsehide lay strewn over the dirt floor. The far wall was festooned with an impressive collection of horseshoes, each one nailed to the planking. To the right sat a ragged padded chair next to a rickety desk that may once have been an expensive antique. In the corner there was a canopied bed covered with silk sheets and sporting an elaborately carved headboard that featured nymphs and satyrs cavorting in a forest. The bed's sheets were stained with dirt, while the headboard was bashed and battered.
            Other than the doors that were rattling on their hinges, there didn't appear to be another way out of the throne room.
            From the hallway beyond the double-doors, a deep, growling voice was making its presence known. It sounded as though it was rallying the goblins for... something.
            The Paladin mused for a moment looking at the wall “You suppose there was a reason he picked this corner to make his stand in? Rhaina pointed to the wall next to where Ripnugget was:Wouldn’t that line up with the corridor we explored on the other side of the wall Anyone good at finding secret doors?”
            "Sometimes," Devin replied succinctly, not promising anything, but well knowing he had a sharp eye for such details.
            After hearing and understanding the general layout of the fort, and what was presumed to be beyond this wall; and more, that the ruler's bedchamber had no exits but one in the great hall, meaning the former resident during this fort's more austere past could've been too easily trapped there, Devin ruminated aloud, "I'm checking the bedchamber's west wall, first." A concealed door in the great hall was possible, he admitted, but with just regular traffic and petitioners in the hall, the builders would've known it would be vulnerable to casual discovery.
            The multitude of nails and variety of driftwood that formed the walls bespoke goblin craftmanship, and could easily have hidden some kind of secret door in their uneven fitting. However, try as he might, Devin could not find one, not in the chief's bedroom nor in the throne room. The walls were surprisingly sturdy, and the floors nothing but packed dirt (or bloody dirt, where they had dispatched Stickfoot and the goblin commandos).
            There was a loud thumping on the double doors of the throne room, louder than any goblin might achieve. "Come out now, or I'll kill the caravan prisoners," a guttural voice demanded. Devin recognized it as the voice of Bruthazmus, who had enjoyed tormenting a few of the prisoners of the caravan that had shared his prison (though thankfully Devin hadn't been among those the bugbear tortured). The last of the other prisoners had been taken away some time before the goblins had fetched Devin for their bloodsport.
            Still reeling from the latent realization that the goblins had actually managed to construct a freestanding building that was both moderately weather-tight and standing upright of its own accord, Devin quietly but urgently volunteering, "There weren't any other prisoners left; I was the last they brought up," Devin shook his head. "Bruthazmus; he's a bugbear."
            At realizing it's goblin manufacture, while checking the king's bedroom and the likely walls, Devin thought to suggest, "Someone check the throne and platform. Goblins would be thinking about easy escape, not necessarily tactical planning."
            “Excellent suggestion Devin ,I will take a look around the throne area,but such searches are not my area of expertise and others should also take a look” As she searched the Paladin addressed the group “I am inclined to believe that the Bugbear is lying and asking him for some proof that even a contemplation of our surrender would need to be accompanied by some form of proof that any of the Caravan prisoners still lived. Furthermore I think that we should insist that those survivors would be set free should we comply with his request’' How do you all feel about That? This could give us some additional time to search for a way out and barring that I have a plan to discuss with you”
            There were no exits Rhaina could find around or under the throne or the platform it stood on. She paused for a moment to be certain that she could be heard as she was not speaking all that loud,lest enemy ears be listening
            “If we become aware that we are trapped,I would propose that we make a break for it,by exiting whatever door we feel is not guarded by the Bugbear.But for this to have any hope of success we would need something to distract some of the goblins away from the fight and I suggest a Fire might work’
            Once we have committed to the attack we set fire to the Bedroom, sealing the door as best we can so that no smoke is immediately visible.That should hopefully give time for it to set the roof on fire,drawing goblins away from the fight.By choosing the bedroom,filled with burnable items I hope it will be difficult for them to put out and give us the chance to escape.
            If it seems we cannot all escape I know that I will remain behind and I think I could call upon my cousin to make with me a stand here that will give you all the time needed for the rest of you to make your getaway’ As if anticipating objections to her proposed sacrifice she pointed out “I am Shoanti and I am a Paladin. You should not assume that I mean to fight to my death,but I can think of no better reason to make the offer,than to give comrades a chance for life”
            Rhaina was not disappointed in this respect.
            "I understand the sentiment, but don't be stupid." Bergi heaved, still scratching her hand haphazardly at where Hrolfir's sword used to be. "Running is a very, very useful thing to do, you know. I think I could slow them down with the last of my butter if needed so please don't toughen the ethnic boogaloo and send the Quah to fire, okay? At least have the decency to accept that if you and M-," she cleared her throat "-and I'Daiin try anything like that to recognize that I will be adhered to your backs like so much marmoset." She narrowed her eyes. "But otherwise, you tactics seem sound."
            "Bergi is right. We're not leaving anyone behind," Quickfoot agreed, determination stamped on his face.
            "Count the hostages dead. We set a fire, and the goblins win, just by trapping us in here -- which they could," Devin pointed out. If no other exits became apparent, Devin points to the door to the southeast corridor. "We can open that, hold our position, chew them up three on one as they come, and deny them their bows in the short corridor; bring that stout bed here as a chokepoint barrier."
            That gave Devin a thought and a cunning grin. He cut off to grab two or three of the goblin dogslicer curved shortswords from the armor, went to the double doors, and carefully dropped to a knee to their east, putting his head down low enough to read the shadows and activity in the gaps underneath the doors.
            Having completed his healing of the party, the cleric looked a bit tired and said, "My healing magics are getting to be in short supply. Whatever the plan, we cannot tackle them the way we handled this room. I can only omit so many enemies when they are in our midst. Best to follow Devin's plan if possible. Keeping them out will allow me to better ensure that my healing magics do not boost the enemy as well."
            His position stated, Durriken stood with his weapon at the ready for whatever ultimately happened next.
            The paladin sighed,partly out of frustration, then in resignation as she turned to the Elf near her “Quickfoot,if you would please take Ripnugget aside and with Durriken’s help ,if required;awaken him. Please get him to tell you about any exits from this room and then give him a swift death”
            Quickfoot grinned, but it was an unpleasant expression. "Can do," he said, dragging Ripnugget into the goblin chief's bedchamber.
            I'Daiin raised an eyebrow at Rhaina. "So, you still appear to be a Shoanti first and a paladin second. And Bergi, my Quah is of the fire--if I burn here, so be it. I am also dubious that any prisoners are alive, but we should find out by seeing them and hearing them speak. Otherwise, there is no point in a deal." He assisted the elf in moving the bed.
            Rhaina padded quietly over to where the group’s latest addition was “Kneeling and looking under the door?” She pulled a potion bottle from her pack and handed it to Devin,modulating her voice so it wouldn’t carry”Let’s try your plan and stop wasting time here.This is a potion of Mage Armor”
            Devin accepts the potion tentatively, unsure what to say. He rolls it in his fingers, considering, and reassesses some previous conclusions. He nods succinctly but truly, and offers, "Thanks." Devin drinks the potion, then offers the empty vial back to Rhaina.
            If you and I’Daiin would start getting the bed ready to move I’ll see if I can give us time to get ready and then I’ll join you”
            Rhaina raises her voice “How do we even know you have any prisoners left”?
            "You want us to send you a piece? Har har har!" the bugbear boomed, followed by the laughter of the goblins outside.
            "You come out now, or we make longshanks out of them!"
            Devin sets the three swords down upon the floor, perpendicular to the door and blade tips pointed towards the crack beneath it. He catches Rhaina's eye and mimes kicking the swords hard under the door, hopping briefly from foot to foot to indicate his intention. If Rhaina was going to hold this position and converse, she was welcome to spring the trap when she wished.
            Devin pads to the bedroom to; with what assistance is available; discard the bedding and move the heavy frame to the southeast corner of the main hall, put up on edge as a makeshift barricade, five feet west from the southeast door and parallel with it, leaving a single five-by-five foot space inside the door that a single goblin might occupy at a time, and could not charge into the room at speed, but that two or three party members could simultaneously attack.
            Devin and I'Daiin together managed to manhandle the heavy bed out while Ripnugget screamed for mercy from whatever Quickfoot was doing. The pitiful cries set their teeth on edge, but they found that it was well that they had locked the doors, for finally the goblins managed to lift the bars from them by coordinating their dogslicers through the now-widened cracks.
            In the discarded bedding, Durriken saw a glint of metal. Investigating, he found a silver jackal's head with three orange gemstone eyes. The icon was hammered flat and hung from a silver chain. He immediately recognized it as the unholy symbol of Lamashtu.
            There was an ominous quiet as the party heaved the bed into place, but finally a voice - a human voice - broke the silence.
            "Look, it doesn't have to be this way. You're cornered, and the goblins don't want you in their home. Why don't you tell us what you want here, and we'll make a deal. If all you wanted was Ripnugget, well, you've got him, so there's no more need to fight. This doesn't need to get ugly." The man's voice sounded earnest enough.
            Devin's frown and furrowed brow made it clear enough he harbored no trust whatsoever for the outcome of the negotiation. The goblins, the bugbears, would not be trustworthy. But the question did prompt Devin to wonder what it /was/ that this crew had arrived to accomplish. To his own mind, he was just absolutely set on surviving; getting to the out-of-doors, evading the goblins. New plans could be established once core necessities were addressed. If the episode yielded allies, so much the better for it; they'd all have better chances together, gods willing.
            "Grab one of those," Devin nodded to Rhaina, indicating the swords at the floor in front of the double doors, "and wedge that bar down. We're ready." Devin ticked his head to the single-width door at the southeast; the chokepoint had been established. It's where Devin, were he on the other side, would've been sending the nastiest, toughest beasties while negotiations drew things out at the double door. Arranged like this, he hoped to deny the goblin forces an opportunity to charge into the room, or really present in any fashion other than practically single file, one at a time. The party could keep rotating ranks as need be.
            "I want my town safe!" Bergi shouted. "-and all this madness over! It has already reached an ugly threshold that bears no belief."
            "I understand-" the man began, only to be cut off by Bruthazmus.
            "No more talking! They won't open the doors? They won't leave? Send them the gift!" There was a commotion outside; then something was pushed under the door by Devin's unused dogslicers. It wasn't immediately clear to the others what the pale objects were, but to Rhaina's horror, she saw three bloody, severed hands shoved into the light of the sunrod.
            "To add to Ripnugget's collection!" Bruthazmus bellowed, laughing uproariously together with the goblins.
            Rhaina's bad feeling was compounded by the sounds coming from the bedroom, which ceased abruptly. As Quickfoot emerged, wiping his hands on a pillowcase, she felt Sarenrae's sorrow and disappointment in her like a heavy weight, dragging her limbs down.
            Unaware of Rhaina's inner turmoil, Quickfoot announced to everyone, "If there was another way out, Ripnugget didn't know about it. I don't think we need to worry about any captives, though. He said they were killed in combat before Devin was brought up." The elf glanced askance at the dirt floor; sure enough, there were patches of bloodstains here and there even where the party hadn't killed goblins.
            Devin directed the others into place around their makeshift barricade. Holding the key ready before the unbarred door, he awaited their signal that they were ready.
            The paladin lifted the bar back into place and wedged 2 of the dogslicers into place on either side of the crack in the door
            "What do we have in the way of items and magicks that will slow them down," grunted the barbarian as more of a command than a question. "Even rocks to put on the floor as we hold our ground will help." He finally took a moment to clean his blade. "And the bugbear dies first."
            Devin, empty handed until minutes ago, shrugged -- he had nothing to contribute, there, but noted, "If you've an idea, do it now; we cannot delay further. Remember this may be our way out, as well."
            When no one else responded, Devin took a breath and opened the side door, ready to dance back into position. It was well that he was so prepared, for a goblin commando burst in immediately, yelling and jabbing with its horsechopper. Devin adroitly sidestepped the attack and responded with a slash of his new, wickedly sharp shortsword that opened the goblin's face from jaw to hairline, narrowly missing its eye. It shrieked angrily, and the goblin behind it, which was only armed with a rusty dogslicer, looked to be having second thoughts about following it in.
            Then the battle began.

29


            “If I might cut in my friend”?
            Rhaina pulled back the draw of her powerful longbow, taking aim at the goblin still in the corridor. Spotting her, it pulled back, and her arrow imbedded itself in the dank wooden wall.
            The sound of a raspberry emerged from the corridor, and the goblin peeked around the doorframe to pelt Rhaina with the contents of its pockets - some lint, a few rat skulls, and a half-eaten rat.
            I'Daiin took the opportunity to press the melee upon the goblin commando, striking at him with his longsword. Unsure of the length of the fight ahead of them, the towering Shoanti chose not to enter his battle trance.
            The manic little bastard avoided I'Daiin's strikes, countering with its horsechopper when his longsword came too close. His sword peeled a long strip of wood off the horsechopper's haft, making the goblin growl and gnash its teeth. Whatever it said, it was making Bergi's ears red and Quickfoot look outraged.
            The goblin commando whirled its horsechopper - and jabbed at Devin, likely thinking the unarmored-seeming man a softer target than I'Daiin. Its weapon glanced off the invisible armor Rhaina had granted Devin, and it scowled in frustration.
            Meanwhile, there was a commotion beyond the double doors behind the adventurers - something was going on back there.
            Unable to reach the goblins directly, Durriken stands rest to use another healing surge or jump into combat if needed.
            Frozen in the face of the goblin onslaught, remembering that they'd nearly killed her in their last battle, Bergi drew back behind the bedframe, heart pounding.
            Unable to get a clean shot at the goblins hiding beyond the doorway from behind I'Daiin and Devin, Quickfoot moved toward the double-doors, inspecting the pinned-in-place plank that barred it with a nod of satisfaction. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled off his pack and began to root through it.
            Durriken moves to secure the double doors as best he can in case they are trying to batter them down. He looks for anything that he can use as a angled wedge to hold the door closed as a support.
            There was the plank that had barred the small door, but the fighting going on around it precluded moving to fetch it. The only other things he could think of were the chair in the bedroom and the throne, though moving the latter swiftly would probably require some help.
            Devin, purposeful and focused, slashes in with his much more-effective shortsword at the goblin that had seen fit to charge into the trap.
            The little manic monster was fiendishly fast, jerking aside and whirling its horsechopper to drive Devin back. It was hard to tell if it was sneering, with its face split open. The goblins behind it cheered, jumping up and down.
            "Quickfoot; rotate with me; gain an attack, here." Devin called.
            "Hang on, I've got a better idea - just in case they break through these doors," Quickfoot called back, still rooting in his pack. "I've got some alchemist's fire and tanglefoot bags in here somewhere. Anybody want some of this?" Meanwhile, the thumping on the doors had stopped, and there was an ominous quiet about them.
            Determined to stay useful until she was needed on the front rank the Paladin once again drew back her bow and fired at the first available target that was not already in melee
            Her arrow took down the goblin in the doorway, and a moment later I'Daiin spitted the commando, whose attention had been taken by the arrow-shot goblin's squawk. The goblin behind the one that was shot was pushed forward by its fellows, looking nervous as it stumbled over the body with the arrow sticking out of it. It dug in its heels and tried to avoid being pushed out onto the killing field, elbowing the one behind it hard and squabbling with it, but its efforts only distracted it enough for Devin to knife it in the vitals. Its retaliatory dogslicer attack came nowhere near hitting as it staggered back, barely able to hold up its wooden shield.
            The one behind it, however, jumped out to slash at Devin from around the corner of the doorway, and though Devin ducked back, using the wall as a shield, its dogslicer penetrated even his magical armor, leaving a nasty gash in his leg. The goblin warrior sped back behind the corner with an evil laugh, leaving its companion at the party's mercy. Devin cut the loopy goblin down easily.
            Having handed out various items to his friends, Quickfoot stuffed what he could into his pockets, then re-shouldered his pack and readied his rapier, a tanglefoot bag in his other hand. Durriken came to join him by the door, mace ready for trouble.
            Trouble seemed likely; the goblins beyond the double doors had begun to chant something that sounded like, "Lyrie! Lyrie!"
            Rhaina shot at the next goblin in line for a trouncing, but her arrow thunked into the wall as it ducked behind the doorframe. I'Daiin was ready for it as it jumped out with its dogslicer waving, and clove straight through its shield, leaving it lying in a puddle of blood.
            The next goblin wasn't so eager to come out and be cut down; it lingered in the doorway, eyes darting between its foes. But what caught Bergi and Rhaina's attention was the hulking shape that came into view behind it. A hairy monstrosity so large that it brushed the walls as it moved, its eyes all but glowed red with evil, and it had a faceful of snaggled fangs. Clad in burnished bronze banded mail, there was a tall shield on its back, and a sword at its hip; it held a powerful-looking recurved longbow. Could this be Bruthazmus, the goblin hero?
            It proved that it could use its bow, as well: Rhaina felt a shock of impact, looking down to find that an arrow had punched through her magical armor, despite the cover the doorway granted her.
            Suddenly an ear-splitting sound shook the building, and the double doors exploded in a rain of splinters, the plank that had barred them thumping into Durriken and Quickfoot and the lock sailing past their heads. With a roaring cheer, goblins poured forward, two commandos from the party's previous battle at their backs, recognizable as much for their injuries as for their ugly faces and piecemeal armor. And one was waving Hrolfr's sword!
            Beyond the howling horde, a cloaked woman stood, a white cat at her feet. Beside her hulked a huge beast similar to the one Bergi and Rhaina saw, though its eyes did not glow red, and it was clad in studded leather armor, with a gristle-stained flail hanging from its belt... and this one held a bow even larger than the one the other creature held. It sniffed the air, then focused on Quickfoot, an evil smile spreading over its face like a plague creeping across the land. It fingered a necklace of pointed ears that hung around its filthy neck, then drew an arrow with loving slowness.
            "Now!" the woman called to someone off to her right, and those stationed by the small door heard a goblin voice coming from behind the bugbear, raised in a familiar song.
"Goblins chew and goblins bite,
goblins cut and goblins fight.
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
goblins eat and take by force!

Goblins race and goblins jump,
goblins slash and goblins bump.
Burn the skin and mash the head,
goblins here and you be dead!

Chase the baby, catch the pup,
bonk the head to shut it up!
Bones be cracked and flesh be stewed!
We be goblins! You be food!"


            The other goblins took up the song, making a racket as they beat their shields and stamped their feet. Quickfoot yelped as an arrow whipped past his head, and the leather-clad bugbear who had shot at him snarled. Likewise, the goblins that attacked the elf and Durriken were unable to penetrate their defense, leaving the goblins hooting angrily.
            However, the two did not have any better luck against the goblins. Durriken slammed the stovelid-breastplate of the one in front of him, but it only skidded backward before leaping at him again. Quickfoot flung the tanglefoot bag he was holding at the one in front of him, but his hand convulsed, covered in itchy red patches, and the goblin managed to jump aside from the patch of sticky goo on the floor.
            "Damn those goblin dogs!" Quickfoot yelled, scratching his hand by rubbing it against his belt as he fended off the goblins with his rapier.
            "Surrender now! You don't stand a chance," the woman called arrogantly, raising a torch that burned with a blue flame. Her dark skin and her accent suggested that Varisia had not always been her home.
            Bergi was home. A smile creased her face as the sounds of battle raged around her. She was one of them. For real and for true, she was an adventurer. Perhaps it was the promise of death which cemented it for her, but she thought the worry and care she held for the comrades fighting beside her was the more likely root.
            A parade of names and faces walked past her; Nacklewocket and his musings and the tribal brothers Andok and Gronk, Sheorin and the gentle wisdom of Amismara, and then steadfast Hrolfr. So many had come and gone in the defense of Sandpoint, and she realized that she didn’t want to be just another fallen hero, honored with a raised mug. She wanted to live and to sing of them, of these trying times and raging battles and those who spilled life’s blood for their beliefs.
            Hrolfr’s blade being waved by a goblin caught her eye, snapping her from her reverie.
            “Hey, that’s mine you walking pickle!” she hollered at the goblin, moving away from the bed barricade. When he didn’t flinch, she barked the same at him in his goblin tongue. The goblin chant boomed around them, but she could not let that sword thief go unanswered. Fingers dipped into her butter pouch as she prepared to unleash her signature magics in his direction.
            “Consider this your last dance!” Bergi hollered in goblin as she sang the butter into a distant spray that coated the goblin filled hallway.
            The goblins did appear to do an odd dance as Bergi's magic suddenly turned the dirt at their feet to a slippery mess. One after the other, their feet slid out from under them and they collapsed, hollering in surprise. The goblins at the fore of the assault broke into gales of laughter, pointing at the scrabbling goblins on the floor.
            Devin slipped away from the wall to take cover behind the bed where Bergi had been. Poking his head above the bedframe, he sent a roiling glob of acid streaking toward the mail-clad bugbear, striking him in the chest - but while the bugbear winced and slapped at his own face where the acid had spattered, the majority of the acid dripped off his armor with no apparent effect.
            Rhaina waited for an opportune moment to strike, stowing her bow, while I'Daiin threw the tanglefoot bag that he had been given by Quickfoot at the goblin in the small doorway. The horrible little monster hurriedly backed up into the bugbear, avoiding the tanglefoot bag even though the bugbear roughly shoved it forward again. However, neither of them appeared to be in any hurry to enter the room. The goblin lingered by the expended bag of stickiness, eyes darting nervously about, while the bugbear plied his bow against I'Daiin. Again he managed to strike his target, despite the cover the doorway granted the Shoanti. His silent, methodical movements were unnerving, coming as they did from a hulking, vicious-seeming monster.
            Beyond the greater hallway, the cloaked woman jabbed a wand at Quickfoot, who was struck by a crackling ball of pure magic. The bugbear beside her bellowed angrily. "Leave that one! He's mine!"
            In a sudden, swift move, he drew back a long arrow and fired at Quickfoot. The missile took the elf in the chest, and Durriken could see that the arrow was scrawled with ugly black runes which seemed to come alive, crawling down its length to vanish into Quickfoot's wound.
            Quickfoot let out a breathless scream, his free hand going to the arrow embedded in his chest, and the bugbear whooped in obscene glee. "I'm comin' for you, elf! We're gonna have fun together, you an' me."
            The double hilarity of the goblins slipping about behind them and Quickfoot's near death in front had the goblins near Durriken and Quickfoot laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. Meanwhile, the goblins who had slipped cautiously regained their feet, the front ranks angrily yelling at the laughing goblins while the commandos in the rear stowed their horsechopper and Hrolfr's sword.
            The battle continued to rage on as a flurry of activity momentarily dazed the cleric. Flasks exploded and black arrows flew almost in slow motion as the blood pounded in Durriken's ears. This was all so new to him and he feared that the group was over-matched. Shaking his head he focused on the here and now and hurled his flask into the midst of the goblins in front of him careful not to catch himself in any splash radius. He then moves to the back northwestern corner of the room.
            The wretched goblins screeched in surprise as spatters of alchemists' fire burned them, busy both laughing at each other's hysterical dance in trying to put the fire out and hopping back and forth to do the same for themselves.
            Bergi's clear voice rose over the goblin chant, bolstering her friends' spirits. Bergi had hoped for a fireball. When she saw the alchemist’s fire being thrown at the grease, she wanted a thundering crush of force to send everyone sprawling. Not the most practical consideration but a fitting one in her dreamer’s eye. Her disappointment was tempered by the slippery goblin chaos, but Hrolfr’s sword disappearing from view dropped a scowl onto her face.
            ‘Thieving magpies!’ she thought. Well, what’s good for the goose.
            Bergi’s voice rose into the din. The pure notes cut across the battle and reached the ears of friend and foe alike. The melody and cadence were oddly familiar, the tones mocking, and she interjected her robust words in contrasting echo to those chanted by the green skins. She was trying to steal their song!
“Goblins on fire burn so bright
Goblin guts and crackling light
Add a log and burn them worse
Hail and hearty stay the course!”

“Goblins bake into crispy stumps
Of goblin ash and smoky lumps
Burn the skin and cook the head
Heroes dance on the goblin dead!”

“Grind them down and smash the chunks
Toss the bones to the dire skunks
Sweep the ash and then they’re gone
Fight with me as we sing our song!”

            As Bergi pranced and sang with a jamboree flair, she unslung her shortbow and slipped an arrow from her quiver. Dragging the arrow back and forth across the string in a mimicry of fiddle play, she continued her performance until the heart of it took root and continued to grow on its own. This was a long stretch from her melodious harp, but the air was rife with fire and blood.
            The colorful halfling then twirled her way around the column and came to a comfortable stance behind it as she merrily carried the tune. She turned her crude fiddle into a weapon once more, and drew the arrow, sighting her target in the distance. Letting the arrow fly, she didn’t think she could do any real harm to Lyrie. But with any luck, maybe she could at least knock the smug off of the magic user’s face.
            Quickfoot scowled at the gabbling goblins, leaving the arrow in his chest for the moment. "Laugh about this," he snarled, lobbing a flask of alchemists' fire into their midst.
            The flask smacked into the back of the head of the goblin in the middle of the pack, spraying fire everywhere. The goblins began to scream and yell, while their greasy clothes began to smoulder with a horrible stink. Rhaina swooped in to fill the spot Quickfoot had vacated, drawing her sword as she came.
            Devin paused at his observations of the bugbear down the hall. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm the party was holding the double door entry into the room, then called to I'Daiin adjacent to him, "Not very bugbear-like, is he?" wondering if the man had noticed the same things, though granted that taking the brunt of the bowshot was likely consuming I'Daiin's attention. "Tuck into cover, harass the goblin," Devin added as an unnecessary suggestion, "we can hold them."
            Bolstered by Bergi's song of confidence to beat back the goblin tide, Devin's stoic mindset cracked enough to yield a sardonic grin. He was on found time. Less than five short minutes ago, he was bound, hobbled, and under the amused survey of Ripnugget, alone save for being surrounded by armed goblins. Not one to ever stop looking for the way out as long as he drew breath, Devin even had had to admit to himself that the best he might gain was taking a few of the goblins out before they cut him down, make them pay a price, maybe even put an uglier scar in Ripnugget's hide.
            Calm confidence infused him, and he was aware of his mind automatically assessing the angles. Survival was the objective, and it was one from which he would not hold back -- there was no point of saving something for later, fight now with everything's you've got to ensure there was a 'later.' It was cold but satisfying recompense to know Ripnugget was dead; regardless of where the goblins' true seats of power were, this was the party that put a bloody crack into the nose of the beasties. But that bugbear's bow had to go.
            Ripping the arrow from his body with a disdainful snort, I'Daiin stepped up to the wall beside the doorway, trading jabs with the goblin there, but neither were able to fight effectively from around the doorjamb.
            With I'Daiin effectively hidden from him, the glowing-eyed bugbear turned its baleful red gaze on Devin. The half-elf ducked behind the protection of the heavy bedframe, but the instant he leaned around the side to see what had become of the bugbear, an arrow punched into his shoulder. The bastard was an incredible marksman!
            The dark-skinned woman frowned at the crazy goblins carrying on, but hissed at Rhaina, "Fools! We will see you dead!" Again she snapped out her wand, and the crackling blue lights crashed into the Shoanti as they had the elf earlier, drawing blood where they disrupted her flesh.
            An arrow whipped past her ear, not meant for her, but for Quickfoot. The elf jumped aside in the nick of time, and the bugbear beside the woman roared resoundingly with fury. "You're not getting away, elfy! I'll take your ears and add them to my necklace!"
            The singed goblins at the front looked like they didn't have the stomach for any more fighting, but with the others pushing at their backs they had no choice but to press the attack. They couldn't break through Rhaina's defense, and the ones behind them kept slipping and falling over themselves; it was amazing they hadn't stabbed themselves with their dogslicers yet. The goblin Quickfoot had nailed with alchemists' fire dropped to roll and put out the flames, only to have them flare up worse as it coated itself in magical grease. It wailed, adding to the general cacophony as it desperately tried to pat out the fire, dropping its dogslicer. In the end it passed out, clothes smoking un-fragrantly where bits of flame still burned.
            The commandos were another matter; they prodded the others forward even as they tried to get out of the hot grease themselves. They managed to scramble away from the magically slippery mess, drawing shortbows and yelling their chant, though it kept getting tangled up in Bergi's stolen tune.
            Durriken uses a healing surge again to help the ailing Quickfoot, careful to exclude the front rank of goblins in the southern corridor.
            A much-welcome wave of relief from their injuries washed over the party; Quickfoot grunted as the arrow was partly expelled from his chest, and pulled it the rest of the way out.
            Bergi took aim and fired at the cloaked woman with the wand. Despite the weaving combatants between her and the mage, her shot flew straight and sure, and the woman cried out as the arrow hit her.
            "Bruthazmus, stop playing and kill them!" she whimpered, seeming more disturbed by the arrow striking her than a single shot warranted. Her face was wrenched into a grimace as she drew the arrow out of her arm, and the cat at her feet hissed, arching its back.
            The bugbear beside her laughed, not seeming terribly worried about her injury. "You don't give me orders, Lyrie. Not if you want to sleep at night."
            In the meantime, Quickfoot faced off with the goblin trying to circle around Rhaina, stabbing it with his rapier and grinning darkly at its howl of pain.
            Heartened by her diminutive friend’s song Rhaina felt new hope surge into her especially when with the added effect of Pharasma’s healing “Lyrie we shall see this day whom the Gods favor and whose lives are spared” With that she swung her faithful Greatsword in an arc intended to start with the Goblin wounded by Quickfot and end up in the body of the one in front of her
            Her sword clove through the goblin like the little monster was made of paper, scattering its makeshift armor to all sides with the force of the blow. Blood sprayed everywhere, and the other goblin menacing Rhaina flinched down - a move that saved its life, as the Shoanti's greatsword slashed into the door beside it, half an inch above its head. Rhaina wrenched her sword free with a yell. “All Goblins will Die today” The lone goblin facing her quailed, cowardly to the bone.
            “Bergi the goblins must resent being used as swordfodder to protect the bugbears and Lyrie,don’t you think? "
            The two goblin commandos exchanged glances at Rhaina's words, but didn't lower their bows.
            Meanwhile, Devin had taken careful aim, taking as long as he dared while the fearsome red-eyed bugbear fitted another arrow to its powerful bow. Rising, he hurled a globule at the bow, and the bugbear winced in surprise as the acid ate through the wood - not quite destroying the bow, but certainly making its use much more difficult. The bugbear fumbled with it, its next arrow going nowhere near the target of Devin's head.
            By the doorway, I'Daiin and the goblin kept darting around the doorjamb, trying to strike each other but never quite making a telling blow.
            Lyrie laughed at Rhaina scornfully. "The goblins wouldn't dare cross us - and you are foolish beyond measure to try. Now, die!" Again her wand spat arrows of light at Rhaina, corkscrewing through the air to thud into her as though she had no magical armor at all.
            Bruthazmus was busy leering in Rhaina's direction - but his expression wasn't meant for her. "Say goodbye to your little friends, elfy," he crooned, drawing back another of his black-runed arrows. He let it loose, and Rhaina saw it coming straight for her - but then it swerved in the air, curving around her to thunk deep into Quickfoot's chest, just to the left of where the previous arrow had struck. Again, those vile black runes crawled down off the shaft and disappeared beneath Quickfoot's tunic as he cried out.
            The carefree elf dropped his rapier from nerveless fingers. He turned his head toward his friends, but no sound came from his mouth; then he fell to the floor in front of Bergi, staring sightlessly. Bruthazmus' cruel laughter rang in the party's ears, gloating. "If only Shalelu could see this! Now for the rest of you!"
            Despite seeing Quickfoot fall, the goblins near Rhaina were clearly not interested in fighting any more. Burned and questioning why they were doing this anyway, they tried to retreat - only to be caught in Bergi's greasy spell in the wide hallway. One tried climbing on top of the smouldering body of the goblin Quickfoot had set on fire, but even there it was far too slippery, and both goblins ended up sprawled on the ground, scrambling to get up and get away.
            "Don't you dare run!" Lyrie thundered at them, giving them pause. "It's the Howling Hole for anyone who runs away!" In front of her, the goblin commandos fired arrows at Rhaina, which she deftly avoided. Their voices, at least, were still raised in song, trying along with their warchanter to drown out Bergi's hijacking of their tune.
            Seeing Quickfoot fall after taking another blacked runed arrow, Durriken rushes to the elf's side to check him over to see if he still lives and attempts to stabilize him.
            To Durriken's expert eye, Quickfoot's sightless gaze boded the worst - and a quick touch to his throat and examination of his chest only confirmed Durriken's expectation. Fading black runes decorated Quickfoot's blood-streaked skin, their evil already done. The elf had passed on to Pharasma's care, now.
            Bergi did not break her musical rhythms to answer Rhaina, focused as she was on timing her notes to maximum effect. She had been composing a stanza to interject which would have played on the paladin’s words, but Quickfoot’s collapse had stricken the lines from her mind.
            Bergi almost threw her weapon down to aid the elf crumpled at her feet, but the sound of Durriken’s approach to reach their fallen comrade stayed her. He could better aid Quickfoot, though what good would it do with those wicked arrows still flying?
            She continued her efforts to bolster their spirits and continued to take aim at those launching arcane attacks from the safety of the rear rank. She shot her arrows at them, graced by her hopeful heart.
            Lyrie started as another of Bergi's arrows glanced off her own invisible armor. Scowling, she stepped to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the bard. "You'll pay for that in time, slip!"
            Rhaina's eyes were on Bruthazmus' mighty bow as she picked up a tanglefoot bag at her feet, her last gift from Quickfoot. Concentrating, she slowly raised it, taking aim.
            The abbreviated, involuntary cry from Quickfoot merited a look behind to assess the situation; Quickfoot down, Durriken going to aid, but the line and the room holding. He wasn't certain what the red-eyed bugbear would do now that Devin had wrecked his bow, but closing to melee was a likely prospect. The goblin in the way might just get trampled or forced forward by that action; Devin decided it was time to reduce the bugbear's soft cover. He conjured and sent another conjured acid missile, this time aimed at the goblin in the hallway. Between Devin and I'Daiin, taking out that goblin would let both of them concentrate upon the bugbear when the moment came; and Devin anticipated it would be soon.
            Devin's strike caught the goblin full in its oversized head, and it screeched horribly as acid ate away at its already-ugly features. It pawed at its face, only managing to burn its hands and arms as well.
            It tried to escape, but the glowering bugbear behind it refused to let it pass. Trapped, it turned desperately on I'Daiin, but its eyes were so red and watery that it couldn't even come near menacing him with its wavering dogslicer.
            I'Daiin knew an opportunity when he saw one. Lunging in with a yell, he split the goblin's skull down to its collar with his gleaming sword.
            The evil-looking bugbear knew what that meant. With practiced movements, he slung his bow and removed the large steel shield from his back, strapping it onto his arm. The shield was shaped into a giant face, watching Devin sternly as the silent monster brought it up before him.
            Another blast of arcane power from Lyrie's wand, and Rhaina was beginning to feel the effect of the repeated pounding. Beside the dark-skinned woman, Bruthazmus leered at Rhaina. "How about a Shoanti shishkabob, huh?" But he didn't seem to anticipate Rhaina's moves as well as he had Quickfoot's, and she managed to dodge the arrow he sent at her. His leer curdled at the edges, turning into a snarl as he drew another arrow.
            The goblins caught in Bergi's grease-trap continued to attempt to flee, but only one made it as far as the commandos before their threats turned it back. The other fell again, helplessly slick. The commandos rained arrows at Rhaina, but none were able to strike her as she spun her sword, interposing it between each arrow.
            Durriken closed Quickfoot's eyes and offered a quick prayer to Pharasma to guide him safely to the afterlife. He then returned to the corner of the room to call upon Pharasma's healing magic again (excluding as many enemies as possible).
            Once healing the group again, Durriken moved back to the edge of the southern corridor. "We need to get out of the line of fire. They can't shoot us if they can't see us. Make them cross the hallway or come around. We are dividing ourselves!"
            Bergi felt the tide of battle swing. Quickfoot had fallen and the pounding from the bugbear bows and Lyrie’s wand were relentless. Her heart broke for the elf as she read Durriken’s gestures. She fought her tears and focused on the needs of the living.
            Stepping with a dancer’s care, she worked her way across the throne room and into the armory doorway. She continued to sing, her throat holding the chords of power together, but she knew she could not maintain the inspirational march indefinitely.
            Waiting with nervous patience, she prepped another arrow and partially drew the string. As soon as a villainous head popped around the far corner, she intended to take a shot at it.
            Having heard Durriken’s advice Rhaina altered her plan slightly “Thank you my Friend”She nodded at the cleric Having taken aim the Paladin silently prayed to her Lady for forgiveness for her transgressions”If it be my time Lady let my death save my friends”
            “If they had not ordered you into Sandpoint,we would not be here.And now they will sacrifice you to save their lives.I am a Paladin and I cannot lie” She banked on some of the Goblins understanding her(which they seemed to before) she took a single step forward loosing the Tanglefoot bag at the bow which slew her companion and friend
            Bruthazmus grinned and swung his bow as though to bat away the bag Rhaina threw at him - only for it to envelop the bow, and his arms, in sticky goo. His grin vanished into a furious snarl as he tried to free his hands. "You'll pay for that, blondie! I'm gonna eat your eyeballs before the end of the day! You're gonna wish you were never born!"
            At the bugbear's forfeit of a ranged weapon, Devin sized up the brute and ascertained that the stout frame and legs of the bed, even braced as they were, may not stand up to a concerted charge from the beast. That would be painful. Devin shifted north; he no longer needed the cover of the frame, and he did not wish to be readily crushed beneath it.
            "Be ready to melee," he advised I'Daiin with a solemn nod. For the moment, if the bugbear held his position, Devin was satisfied with the standoff -- it gave the others time to further dent the goblins attempting entry through the main corridor. Gained time would be to the favor of the party at the moment, not the goblins.
            Devin sent one more acid glob streaking towards the bugbear for good measure, then drew his acquired shortsword to hand.
            Having learned the danger of the roiling liquid Devin cast his way, the bugbear ducked aside, trying to hide his bulk behind his stern-faced shield.
            Almost without stopping the Shoanti drew and threw the Alchemist’s fire she got from Quickfoot at Lyrie who seemed to fear being hurt
            The swiftness of Rhaina's attack took Lyrie by surprise, and though Rhaina stepped back around the corner too quickly to see the results, the sound of shrieks and yowls in the air told her that she had struck the mage and those around her. Lyrie's screams were particularly piercing, adding to the screeching of her white cat.
            Though Devin and I'Daiin waited, no bugbear appeared in the doorway they guarded. The warchanter's voice had grown too hoarse to continue to vie with Bergi's song, and the goblins were too occupied with their troubles to sing along in any case.
            Durriken watched as Lyrie dropped to the ground, screaming as she rolled about trying to put out the flames that were devouring her, though she didn't appear to be having much luck. Bruthazmus, however, managed to wrench his hands free of his now-useless bow, and threw it aside in his fury. "I'm coming for you!" he howled, slapping at the bits of fire eating away at his hairy hide as he drew a heavy, evil-looking flail from his belt. He shoved past the commando in front of him and bolted off to his right.
            A few seconds later the enraged bugbear burst out of the smaller hallway by I'Daiin and Devin - and straight onto I'Daiin's readied blade. If Lyrie's scream had been piercing, then Bruthazmus' roar of pain was loud enough to shake sticks loose from the ceiling.
            An arrow slammed into Durriken, but the other arrow that had been launched at him sailed off to stick in the far wall, the goblin responsible looking a bit wide-eyed (though it was hard to tell, with their tiny eyes) at the sound of the goblin hero's roar.
            Durriken bent down and ensured that the goblin at his feet wouldn't rise again with a blow of his mace.
            Having dealt with the downed goblin, Durriken took refuge out of the line of Fire from the commando goblins along the room's southern wall.
            Looking down at the Elf’s nearby body Rhaina whispered a brief prayer for his soul”No time now for for ceremony my Friend” Shouting in Shoanti so I’Daiin would hear “P?hi i te painga Cousin.Don't kia hanga e ia ruma mo nga ?tahi atu”(Translation:Press the advantage Cousin,don’t let him make room for the others) Bergi! How about buttering up our newest gate crasher Assuming she would understand,while not assuming she would comply
            Bergi jumped a little as Bruthazmus crashed into the room. She wanted to creep back over and watch Lyrie shriek, and she wanted to creep back over and puncture the goblin thief with Hrolfr’s sword. She heard Rhaina’s clarion call though, the call for butter, and she steadied her will to cast as the words came unbidden into her mind.
            Without missing a beat in the taunting march she was belting out, Bergi inserted a new stanza that fueled the arcane energies at her command.
“Butter, butter everywhere
Butter the goblins, butter your hair
Buttered bugbears, better beware
Butter his flail and handle with care!”
            Bergi knew she couldn’t greasify the ground beneath Bruthazmus without causing a great deal of trouble for her comrades. So with a pinch of butter and a flash of song, she sent the spell winging toward the menacing flail of the evil creature.
            The flail slid nearly out of Bruthazmus' grip before the horrid monster caught it with his other hand - and nearly squirted out of that hold as well, until the bugbear desperately grabbed it with both hands. "Stop that!" he bellowed, blood frothing on his lips from I'Daiin's mighty strike.
            "Surprise!" Devin grinned maliciously and whipped in with the enchanted shortsword. Fully aware this was a fight for his life, he dug deep within himself with all the strength he could muster and reversed his return into yet another strike at Bruthazmus. If the other brute wasn't still waiting down the hall, Devin would've stepped back to entice overconfident Bruthazmus to step between them, where Devin and I'Daiin could really do some damage opposite each other, but the other bugbear would too easily press in and threaten I'Daiin if so, and Bruthazmus might just take the change and charge through any opening granted, getting into the middle of the room where he could threaten everyone. Better to keep Bruthazmus boxed a few precious moments longer... though Devin knew it was going to hurt to do so.
            He offhandedly observed in a voice loud enough to carry and taunt, "Quite the pile of bugbear and goblin bodies we're making here."
            The wounded bugbear avoided Devin's first strike, but his swift reversal and attack punched through the vile monster's armor, making him bellow with rage and pain again.
            Checking her own situation Rhaina decided to be patient and see where the best place for her would be
            A bit too focused on Bruthazmus, I'Daiin failed to notice that the huge, red-eyed bugbear had crept up the corridor. A powerful swipe of its bastard sword reminded him to be more vigilant.
            Peeking around the corner of the large hallway, Rhaina saw that Lyrie was drinking something out of a small vial, her whimpers dwindling to nothing. Meanwhile, Bruthazmus had clearly had enough - shoving past the other bugbear again (much to its evident astonishment), he withdrew into the goblin fort. Rhaina was the only one to see him come limping out beside Lyrie, though his concern wasn't for her. Instead, he reached for the bow now stuck to the ground.
            Thinking to keep the goblin commandos busy, the beautiful Shoanti woman flung a dagger at one, but the hastily-thrown blade was deflected by the cobbled-together helmet it was wearing, making it ring like a small gong.
            "I think we broke him," Devin confided loudly, amused, to the party at seeing Bruthazmus flee. "There's a urine streak in his wake down the hall."
            "I'Daiin; back north a step; let him come," Devin plotted of the red-eyed human-mannerismed bugbear. They could gang upon him and take him down.
            I'Daiin grinned, the expression not a comforting one. "Come out and face your doom, wretch," he invited, raising his blood-dripping sword once more.
            The goblins, with no support and no one to force them to fight, finally broke and scrambled for the front of the fort.
            Rhaina will quickly and quietly let the group know that Bruthazmus was back where he came from and it looked as if he and the Goblins were getting ready to leave
            Butter business concluded, Bergi felt the tidal shift of battle again, and she brought her marching rhymes to a flourishing finish. The din of combat ebbed as forces regrouped, and Bergi visibly fought the urge to creep over and peer or hear what was going on down the far hall. Twice she actually started to take a step in that direction, and twice she pinched her lips fiercely, willing herself to stand still.
            But she knew her will would not hold forever. Hrolfr’s sword was down that hall, and the thieving bugger who stole it. She knocked an arrow, and partially pulled the bow taut, waiting to see if any of the ugly mugs would dare to peek around the corner.
            Glancing down, Bergi was a little surprised to find that she had sidled a few feet closer to the hallway without realizing it. ‘Just to get a better angle of fire between the columns’, she rationalized.
            Unfortunately, she couldn't spot any foes in the far hall from her current position beside the grisly, hand-spiked columns, so she turned her bow on the bugbear remaining where Bruthazmus had fled. It didn't strike him, but he definitely seemed wary of stepping into the trap that Bruthazmus had so obligingly leapt into.
            Having heard Rhaina's warning that their foes seemed ready to flee, Devin moved to stand behind the iron-spike-studded beam supporting the roof near Quickfoot's body. Just barely able to see a bit of Bruthazmus' bulk around the corner, he threw another glob of roiling acid at the bugbear, but at this range, and with the monster mostly behind the cover of the wooden walls, he wasn't able to hit him.
            The other bugbear had no intention of ending up like Bruthazmus; with his shield held before him, he withdrew back into the corridor, vanishing from sight.
            Moments later a man carrying the bugbear's face-stamped shield appeared near Bruthazmus and Lyrie, attempting to help the woman up without releasing either sword nor shield. That was clearly awkward, as his efforts did little to aid her.
            Nor did she seem particularly grateful. "Orik, you idiot! Why didn't you go in and pinch them from the side, like you were supposed to?"
            "No time, Lyrie - just go," Orik said, keeping an eye on the party.
            Acceding to his request, she rose and disappeared into the fort to her right, still smoking a little from the alchemists' fire. A warchanter came skidding around the corner, fleeing, as Bruthazmus heaved his bow off the ground in a show of prodigious strength, then retreated the same way Lyrie had gone, with a final, baleful look in the party's direction before he limped off.

30


            Durriken wanted to give chase and finish off weakened foes but knew the party was lucky to be alive. He stated with the group and waited to see what the more tactically experienced adventurers wanted to do.
            “We need to leave now. Durriken can you spare another healing in case we run into trouble? One of us should carry Quickfoot while the rest scout and see which is the best way for our retreat” “Suggestions”? Rhaina asked.
            The goblin fortress was still alive with noises, but Bergi welcomed the reprieve from the onslaught. She blew a few stray strands of hair out of her face and looked around at the others, her eyes coming to rest on Quickfoot.
            She flitted over to the fallen elf and knelt at his head, setting her bow down beside her. There was no mistaking his condition; he was gone. She wiped a bit of blood away from his lips and chin and said, “Not to worry. I’ll write you a good one some day. You get some rest now.”
            Bergi’s fingers traced some hair away from his face, and then she pursed her lips and started trying to pull out the arrows which had silenced their comrade.
            The arrows were strong, and had not broken, but whatever evil magic they had held, it was expended now. No runes inscribed the shafts; only blood marked them now.
            "I will carry our fallen companion," I'Daiin rumbled in answer to Rhaina, having paused to dry his blade on the body of a goblin. Sheathing his sword, he knelt by Quickfoot and gathered the elf up into his arms with respectful solemnity. "The spirits will welcome you, friend Quickfoot. We will drink in your honor." As he lifted their late friend, the journal the elf had taken from Tsuto fell from within his shirt. It was bloodstained, but still legible.
            Devin moved southwest, his eye still on the fleeing bugbear champion, one hand still holding his shortsword. From just inside the double doors, he sent another acid sphere at the fleeing Bruthazmus, hoping for a lucky shot. His attention quickly shifted to the man standing south of the hall. Eyes met, brows lowered; the shield, sword, and dress were unmistakably the same as the red-eyed bugbear had wielded.
            "Orik," Devin acknowledged ominously. He would remember both the name and the face.
            He glared a moment longer before asking of the party, without turning his head, "Have you other objectives within this fort, or do we burn it and leave?" Devin disliked leaving an enemy fortification standing in their wake, that it might rebuild forces and need be assaulted again in the future, but they mostly had their lives, and if need be, that would suffice.
            "There is only one route," Devin pointed south. Even the hall to the side only rejoined the main entryway to the south after a short bend; he'd surmised as much from Orik's rapid appearance there. "Be wary; they can hear us." Plans and calls for retreat should be spoken cautiously. "Your route here is no longer available?"
            Rhaina's voice drops to a whisper “There is the route we came in by as well” And she will describe it
            Durriken nods to Rhaina, "Yes, we just need to move away from the downed goblins so we don't heal any of them." Durriken then uses another healing surge.
            Bergi stared at the two arrows she had pulled from Quickfoot. Her mind raced to the thought of firing them back at Bruthazmus when the time came. They were well crafted, but the stink of foul magic still tainted them as well as the blood of a friend. She cast them aside and wiped her hand on her leg. She instead picked up the journal and stowed it. Any tale, no matter how dark, was worth saving.
            Devin accepts the information and nods tersely, "If that was your entry, it should be our exit, rather than fight our way out all their fortifications." Not to mention that there were likely more goblin frontline forces that hadn't yet joined the fight that the party had bypassed via their means of entry -- going out the front door would mean encountering every patrol converging on the fort, fighting through every fortified position, and every barrier, and even then being pursued by every remaining goblin with a defunct blade.
            "We should get to the exit point, torch the fort to ensure they keep running away from us, and escape. Lead on."
            "The wood is blastedly hard to burn," I'Daiin told Devin as they returned to the exercise yard. The bright light blinded the half-elf for long seconds after his long imprisonment in the dark, but the fresh air was welcome. "Damp. Else I suppose the little ankle-biters would have set themselves ablaze long since."
            Devin sighed, "Disappointing," but didn't otherwise press the matter. Without an accelerant, there was little point in attempting the endeavor. He resigned himself to the knowledge that goblins would have an opportunity to rebuild, an a fortress to shelter within, that the next leader to rise to the ranks may be just as difficult to reach and eliminate as Ripnugget had surely been.

31


            The large creature in the nailed-shut shack pounded the walls again as they climbed up onto the shack's roof. Flies buzzed over the long-dead corpses of the two goblins in front of its doors, the little monsters' heads staved in.
            Durriken listens to the pounding of the creature in the shack and says, "Do you think we could release that thing or loosen it enough for it to break free itself? It might provide a nice distraction while we retreat."
            As the party exited, Bergi stopped just short of the grease patch in the main hallway. She retrieved the sunrod she had dropped there when the arrows had started flying. That felt like months ago. She didn’t even feel like the same person now. So much had happened in the interim. The loss of Quickfoot and the addition of Devin. The waves of goblins and mercenaries and the collective effort to bring down Ripnugget. She looked at the butter splattered sunrod, then at the slick floor, and then back at the still dripping ceiling. This had been the bloodiest, and greasiest, engagement she had been in by far. Is it any wonder she felt changed?
            She slung the worst of the splotches off of the sunrod and used its greasy light to guide them back to the kennels and the trapped beast in the shack.
            “Rhaina hinted at the fact that whatever’s inside wasn’t evil,” Bergi said, “but -I’m- not going to open it. I’Daiin wanted to, and that’s up to him. Just wait ’til I’m up on the wall, bite size that I am.”
            With that she tucked the rod in her belt and started to scramble her way to safety, stopping only once she had reached the summit. As she prepared to descend the other side, her face twisted in a wry smirk at the snoring below.
            The dialog gave Devin pause at the shack, permitting Bergi and others time to crest the wall. If the goblins had nailed it shut, it was clearly something they couldn't readily control, and something that wasn't easily pacified. Not evil... interesting. If he couldn't set the fort ablaze, he enjoyed the idea of leaving some other emergency behind for the goblins to have to deal with, and maybe take a few more of them out in the process.
            His survey sufficed; whatever was in there, it readily killed goblins, it wasn't evil, and the goblins were afraid of it. Some manner of beast, perhaps. The yard appeared sufficient to contain it; it wasn't a big jumper or flier.
            Devin climbed the wall, looked over the far side, and saw the boat below that was apparently their collective destination and exit from the fortification. Other than the smell and sounds of the sea that leaked into the dungeons, this was Devin's first real confirmation that they were upon the ocean shore; the boat made sense, given what he could see of the inland scrub and tall, foreboding thornbrush knots.
            "I'll be right behind," he promised the nearest party member, verified his intended path of descent outside the wall, positioned himself for it, then let loose a short string of acid globs at the bracing over the door. It may not be enough to sunder, but given the vigor whatever was inside was trying to break free, weakening them may be just enough.
            Devin's acid spatters ate into the outer array of wood barring the door; it wasn't enough to eat through the inner layer as well, but at least the barricade had been weakened.
            Satisfied, Devin climbed over the wall with the others, the driftwood providing easy handholds as he clambered down to where the others waited.

32


            Once over the wall, it was clear what had become of Yuga from the loud snoring beneath the Thistletop goblins' beached rowboat.
            Bergi stared at the snoring rowboat. How easy it would be to leave Yuga here. Stranding her amidst a pack of angry kinsmen was as good as a death sentence, but the goblin had held up her end of the bargain. Plus, they might find themselves facing Yuga down the road as a new Thistletop recruit, or worse yet, she’d tell Lyrie and Bruthazmus everything she knew about the party and Sandpoint for little more than a scrap of bacon. No, she had to come along.
            As Devin finished his descent, Bergi sighed and nodded toward the rowboat. “There’s a Birdcruncher goblin under here and a hungry one at that. Name of Yuga, and she’s fed us information about Thistletop,” she said, by way of explanation. “In a way, she’s responsible for your freedom. Try to remember that when you feel like stabbing her.”
            Bergi's suggestion that Devin would find himself quickly at odds with the goblin drew him up short, wondering how to take the information. He nodded to Bergi's back and fell back into step.
            Bergi walked over and smacked her hand on the rowboat hull. <“Yuga! Time to go. The longshanks are leaving,”> she said in the smacking, grunting dialect.
            The snoring broke off, followed immediately by a loud bonk as the goblin tried to jump up while still under the rowboat. A moment later, Yuga crawled out, rubbing her head but looking less hung over than previously. She looked them over with wide eyes, squinting a bit at Devin. <"You bigfolks kill all Thistletops? Get Warchief Ripnugget, get everybody?"> she asked eagerly. Pointing at Devin, she beamed, revealing far too many slender teeth. <"Quickfoot told Yuga true! Big heros, you longsh- er, bigfolks! ...You gots something to eat?">
            Bergi sighed at Yuga’s misperception of Devin as Quickfoot, despite I’Daiin’s burden. She tapped Devin on the hip and pointed at the jollyboat below when he moved to right the goblin rowboat. “That’s our ride, down there.”
            Devin's relief is evident, "Was wondering how you all planned to escape in... this."
            Turning back to Yuga, the halfling said, <“We didn’t get them all, but we did get Ripnugget and his lizard.”> ‘But the price was high,’ her mind added. <“And no food, no. Just fire…and blood. We go back to town now. Can get food there.”> Bergi started to move off down the hill with no question as to Yuga’s fate. She drew up though, glancing around when she sensed some trepidation from her comrades.
            No stranger to putting his back into it, and not certain of the deal with the goblin; as if he could even understand the banter; Devin somberly braces the rowboat as Quickfoot's is placed into the craft, and as everyone climbs aboard. Devin slides in last or nearly last, ready to take a position at one of the oars without being asked.
            On the unspoken undercurrent discussion of Yuga's fate, Devin abstains; he knew nothing of Yuga, the party's deal with her, or the party's deal with whomever they obtained her from. He did, however, shrug and volunteer, "Whatever cascades to the least likely trouble. Be purposeful."
            The halfling nodded. “Best we return what we borrowed,” she said, conveying her wishes to keep in good favor with the sherriff. If she didn’t see any obvious rebuttal, she turned and plodded down to the jollyboat, her gait a little heavier with the scars of Thistletop.
            Devin moved to follow and assist, eager to be away. He threw more than one glance back towards the fort, and up and down the succinct shoreline, wary of pursuit or interest.
            The Paladin spoke little during the descent and assisted in getting Quickfoot into the boat and took a turn at the oars

33


            No interest in them was apparent from the cleared fort, and they managed to climb down to the jollyboat with Quickfoot in short order. Yuga eyed the elf hungrily as they rowed away from the head-shaped island, but was content to sulk in a corner of the boat when told she couldn't eat him.
            Devin met Bergi's eyes significantly, minding her forewarning that Yuga was in part responsible for the party's successful incursion, and noting indeed it truly hadn't been long at all before the thought of stabbing the goblin crossed his mind.
            Many hours and blistered palms later, the weary crew rounded the Old Light, nearing home. Yuga leapt into the water, swimming noisily for Junker's Beach at the base of the cliff beneath Sandpoint. It seemed she considered their alliance at an end.
            Devin looked about, prepared to take his cues on how to deal with Yuga; if any response was warranted; from the party.
            “No, Yuga!” Bergi tried to yell in warning, not to the goblin, but to her peers. The green skinned menace was too swift though, already over the side and out of arm’s reach. As their borrowed favor from Sheriff Hemlock bobbed away, Bergi flew to the side of the jollyboat and shouted, “Oh, you dirty bugger you!” Only after the fact did she realize she hadn’t conveyed anything in the creature’s own tongue.
            She glanced at her own armor, and then at the other armored figures sitting in the boat. Her eyes glanced to those who were not so weighted down, but the smirk on her face asked no more of them than what they would offer.
            The halfling looked toward the water once more. Was drowning worth the risk of one lone goblin after the trials they had just been through? Bergi’s head shook lightly. Perhaps the wily creature had earned another chance to tempt fate.
            When Yuga jumped,Rhaina looked to the others,especially Bergi and when the Bard seemed to accept it she reached out patting the halfling’s shoulder in friendship”I was raised on a mountaintop Bergi ,so I never learned to swim” Before she turned back Bergi would swear she saw the Shoanti wink at her

34


            With the jollyboat tied off at the harbor, the party was free to go where they pleased in town.
            Only once Devin's feet were upon the wood of the dock, the harbor and small town about them, did he feel the resolve finally wash from him and the need to persevere lose its scream for action; he felt the flood of freedom and confidence of immediate survival and the withheld uncertainties and tension break loose. The emotions of profound, long-sought relief, exhaustion, and simple joy of still being alive all bubbled across his expression in rapid, torn succession, and his hands at the rope of the jollyboat fell slack with his arms as he sank to his knees, just breathing and seeing and smelling and hearing the sounds of a normal town about him again. His eyes pinched shut, his body slowly curled forward, and his fists tightened about the rope and as they came together to shelter his face. His breath hitched, and from within he could be heard to say solemnly, "Thank you." At length, he uncurled and his bare chest expanded with a deep, steadying breath. Devin slowly rose back to his feet, and met the eyes of each of the party, nodding again, making it clear to them should his voice have been too quiet, "Thank you."
            He paused upon Quickfoot, being carried by I'Daiin, and realized what the party had lost, for all that may have been gained. To Quickfoot, knowing there would be no response, Devin said again only what he sincerely could express, "Thank you."
            Bergi smiled in response and said, “You earned your keep as much as the help we offered.”
            Realizing he still had one of the lines in his hand, Devin haltingly looked about for a place to secure it.
            Those who saw I'Daiin carrying Quickfoot stopped what they were doing and doffed their hats, some following the party with anxious questions of what had happened. In particular, a small crowd of children soon gathered, crying and querulous, asking where the party was taking Quickfoot.
            "I will go to the cathedral," I'Daiin rumbled, more to the party than to the townsfolk. "Will you come?"
            As they got out of the boat Rhaina turned to her cousin I’Daiin,we will carry him together.It will be all the more dignified’' Turning to their newest compatriot as she bore her share of the load”Devin ,you are welcome ,please feel free to join with us. But should you have another choice then we wish you all the best’'”
            Devin could only nod. He was uncertain where his path led from here, uncertain even what the party was about, or what they had wanted to accomplish with their raid upon the goblin stronghold, if they had succeeded in it, and if they counted the cost known and fair. But he did know he owed them all a debt, and he did know they were the only friends he may have here, at present, as forged in trials as their relationship may have been.
            “We should all go,” Bergi said, very aware of the host of townsfolk who paid them heed. “To do otherwise would cast more doubt on these good people than’s deserved.”
            Happy to be back on land and not in imminent danger of being killed, Durriken likewise felt the urgency of the past few hours drain from his body. He turned his attention to more civilized issues and that of Quickfoot's body. Nodding to I'Daiin, he said, "I will accompany you and help see to whatever arrangements need to be done for a proper burial." With that he fell in step with the group and kept his own counsel as the party made its way from the docks to the temple.
            As those coming fell into step, Bergi spoke to Devin. “We’ve done well by these folk of late, and they look on us with some favor. Though I imagine the sheriff will ice up a bit, as t’was his jail that we borrowed Yuga from.” She shook her head and waved it off. “We’ll deal with him later. If you’re unfamiliar with Sandpoint, you’d do well to stick with us for a time, least until you get your bearing and baubles sorted out.”
            They strode on for a bit before Bergi spoke up again. “This town’s my heart and home though, and I’d ask that you treat it as such. After the cathedral and seeing to the worst of our hurts, I’d stop in at the Rusty Dragon to clean up and refresh a bit. If you fancy to join us, we’d here a bit of your tale to get a better sense of you.” She cast a questioning glance at Devin to see how he’d respond.
            Devin nodded to both Bergi's request, and the invitation from both Bergi and Rhaina. Though a bit discomfited at the attention and crowd that had gathered around them so quickly, he stayed close and traveled with the party and realized some sense of security with them, while giving no indications of pressing priorities elsewhere.
            The evening bells tolled as the party made their way up Main Street with their sad burden, trailed by children weeping for Quickfoot's fate and a fair number of adults with a sorrowful mien. Ven Vinder left his general store to his wife and joined the crowd with his two daughters; Shayliss in particular seemed quite distraught. As they passed the garrison and town hall, a handful of town watchmen and Sheriff Hemlock, who wore his usual grim expression, moved into the growing procession. To his credit, he said nothing of the missing goblin; he only nodded to the Thistletop survivors respectfully (taking note of Devin's presence), and strode with them to the cathedral.
            The firm scrutiny of Sheriff Hemlock -- piercing, not exactly friendly, but not exactly unfriendly, either -- prompted a brief start from Devin. Sandpoint suddenly didn't feel as safe, the danger not quite as past as Devin had hoped. He looked about the party, again gauging reactions, and when no one took umbrage at the Sheriff's presence or mannerism, Devin drew himself calm and tried to not let the man's gaze bore holes through him. Devin saw fit to gradually drift his position within the procession to keep a party member between himself and the Sheriff as they went; men like that too often saw fit to land kicks and grind bootheels and harass with no fear of reprisal.
            Despite his fears, he couldn't help but note the respectful murmurs of greeting and brief smiles the Sheriff earned with his presence. While Hemlock didn't return the smiles, he nodded with equal respect to each of the townsfolk who greeted him.
            By the time they had reached their destination, Mayor Deverin herself had hurried to meet them, word of the death of a Hero of Sandpoint having spread like wildfire through the dry tinder of the town. She too retained a respectful silence as they climbed the cathedral steps.
            Rhaina and I'Daiin together carried Quickfoot's body into the cathedral, where those attending the evening prayer - few enough, most people having gone home for supper - rose from the pews to see what was happening.
            Peace. It is what she sought. Had continued to seek these many years since exile from her elven homeland in the Churlwood. It was what she had come close to discovering in the self-imposed occupancy of the Windsong Abbey. It was what she had observed along the coastal road south, skirting the Varisian Bay; the calm of the world going about its day-to-day business, oblivious to the passing of time; letting that same passage govern its rhythms and beats. And it was what she had felt in the great cathedral here in Sandpoint; placid quiet, tranquil silence, soothing calm.
            That had been earlier. When she had first arrived and the spired construction had drawn her to its peaceful heart. There she had found solace, of a sort, a place to momentarily immerse herself in the nub of quiet that existed within the swirling bustle of Sandpoint’s daily hubbub.
            She had left the cathedral a full hour earlier, to explore and investigate this new place on her path. She had found herself in the merchant's quarter, perusing their wares with a detached interest, as only a passing shopper with no interest in parting with their coin can.
            The commotion that caught her attention, at first quiet, then with a growing anxiety that fed and grew upon and despite itself, and which now swept her not unwillingly along in its wake, now found her on the fringes of the gathered crowd that hovered and muttered within the great cathedral’s hitherto solemn interior.
            She threaded her way to the forward bounds of the crowd, curiosity fuelling her steps. Heroes of Sandpoint she had heard them called. Returned from regions dangerous. Success and tragedy mixed together upon their return, a bittersweet entanglement of relief, joy, sadness and grief. All this was felt more than heard within the swirl of rumour, hearsay and enthusiastic chatter.
            The vignette opened up before her as she paused at the shoulder of a taller man, the sharp smell of his leather tunic catching in her nostrils. She was tall, fully a couple of inches more than those she immediately held court with as they all witnessed the scene before them. The Heroes, no doubt, in conference with one who was clearly the Father who presided over his flock that gathered within the cathedral, and two of whom looked like they were persons of some import.
            Before long, Father Zantus arrived, having cut short his sermon. "Ah, young Quickfoot," he said, honest grief in his voice and face. "You left us far too soon, my son. But there could be no nobler death than yours, in the service of your home town." He bowed his head in silence for a long moment, as did those around him; when he raised his gaze again, his expression was sad, but accepting. "Thank you for bringing him here. We will prepare his body for burial for the next day; then there will be a wake before the funeral," he told them all, then hesitated, with a questioning look for Durriken. "I assume you would like to preside, as a Pharasmin?"
            "The town will pay all expenses," Mayor Deverin assured the party quietly. "It's the least we can do." The bells, which had rung so cheerily for the evening, fell silent. Then, a single bell tolled sonorously, announcing the death of a citizen of Sandpoint.
            A quick word of enquiry to a neighbour illuminated the identity of the one named Quickfoot; the name had a familiar ring to it. Elven.
            Her blood ran cold. They cannot do this. Not to him. Their way was not the way of the elves. A burial? A wake? No, that was not the way of the elves. His body needed transport to the home of his birth, where the rituals of the priests learned in the ways of could preside over the preparation of his mortal remains and properly prepare the path for his soul to depart those same dead remains.
            A quick glance about the crowd and she was disappointed, even concerned, at the absence of any other of her elven heritage. None to step forward and speak for the soul of the fallen elf who lay so peacefully before them.
            And the she found herself somehow before the crowd, her feet, of their own volition apparently, carrying her across the short distance to the gathered Heroes and the officials, secular and religious.
            Though he knew the Mayor wasn't speaking to him, truly, Devin looked left and right tentatively as she conferred quietly with the party, and recognized he was both upon the charity of others, and was under too much scrutiny to lighthandedly rectify immediate needs himself.
            "Uh... Mayor?" he asked tenatively; her bearing and the deference of others to her suggested the title, but no introductions had yet been made. Devin wondered how to phrase his request, but settled for gesturing subtly, embarrassed, to his bruised, cut, and battered bare chest and arms, torn and abraded leather pants, and damaged boots. The shortsword was the finest thing he carried, and even that was rammed point-through a split sheath upon rough-tied goblin belts at his waist. The decrepit goblin daggers and shortbow and quiver he'd tossed aside at landing, seeing no need to further carry those improvised implements with him. He had little doubt he looked and smelled much like the beaten goblin prisoner he had been for the past many days; he wasn't certain how many.
            All in all, he looked and felt decidedly out of place and far from his best, a half-naked and rough-edged distraction in the crowd and proceedings surrounding respects to Quickfoot.
            Bergi looked over as Devin spoke to the mayor, and the bard shook her head in self disgust. Adventuring was wearing down her social graces. "I'm sorry, mayor," Bergi interjected, "this is Devin, what that we rescued from goblin imprisonment at Thistletop. He helped us fell that wily crank Ripnugget. Devin, this is Mayor Deverin." The mayor's name tapered off in volume as Bergi only realized the similarity as she spoke it, looking betwixt the two with a crooked smile.
            Devin nodded tersely, acquiescing to Bergi's succinct description of his ordeal and involvement. The humor of the similarity in name wasn't lost upon him, nor that Bergi the bard had happened upon a rhyme and might be mulling how to put it to future use, but his present circumstance didn't lend itself to smile along... though, nor did he take any offense or think her smile at his expense.
            "I'm not at my best," he admitted to the mayor, by way of introduction and explanation of his earlier uncertain gesture to his present state. "If there's a place I could clean up, and if people might have some fresh clothes and some light equipment to spare... I'd be very grateful." Supplication for charity was foreign and awkward for him, but he made a sincere and passable plea for it, all things considered.
            The mayor nodded to Devin, but before she could speak, two other women spoke up.
            The first, a woman of exotic appearance (and unusual hairstyle) who had been angling through the crowd toward Bergi, spoke first. "If Bergi says you helped her out against the goblins, then you're welcome to stay at The Rusty Dragon free of charge, together with the other Heroes," she said breathlessly, but with a smile. Then, realizing that she hadn't introduced herself, she hurriedly added, "I'm Ameiko Kaijitsu. I own the Dragon." She scooped Bergi up in a tight hug. "I was so worried! For good reason, it would seem," she said sadly, looking at where Rhaina and I'Daiin stood with Quickfoot.
            While she spoke with Bergi, another woman - a half-elf as well, by her height and features - came closer from where she had risen from the pews. "My name is Rynshinn," she said quietly, her voice nearly unheard over the sounds of the echoing cathedral. "Ven Vinder has vouched for you all, and that's good enough for me. Come by Vernah's Fine Clothing, and I'll have you sorted within a day or so."
            Mayor Deverin smiled, though the expression was still tinged with sadness. "It would seem that heroism is its own reward - as well as being fraught with danger. Welcome to Sandpoint, Devin. I wish that it was under better circumstances."
            A bit overwhelmed with their generosity, Devin could only nod touched acknowledgement to all three and nod, beginning "Thank you... I as well..."
            The name struck a familiar chord in the elf maiden's mind, though it did not register fully.
            The half-naked man, back to her as she approached, did not see her approach to their gathering. A surge in muttering from the surrounding onlookers caught the attention of the group and they looked in her direction.
            An elf woman, long of brown hair, that tumbled down her back freely; tall, lithe and thin; dressed in a flowing cloak and dress that trailed an inch above the ground; big grey eyes that regarded them with a mix of calm elven patience and a deeper concern for a possible wrong to be put right.
            She paused, unsure who to direct her concerns to. She took a breath to speak, yet it caught in her throat when the half-naked man turned and she caught his look, the familiar turn of his chin and the glint of the curious within his eyes.
            “Devin?” she gasped out.
            His name, suddenly incongruous, was lost upon him for a moment; his eyes could not place who he was seeing in context of all that was happening. And yet, once they did, his face warmed and he spoke with his own joyful surprise, "Amrynn?!"
            Devin's mind worked to reconcile two worlds colliding, exhibited by an immediate loss for words from the impotent working of his mouth, which wouldn't seem to either close or speak coherently. With visible effort he gathered his forfeited wits and; not rudely, but not to be delayed; stepped aside of the mayor to greet her. His hands and arms rose forward as he approached, but; cognizant of time, and of place; came to rest upon her upper arms and drawn down to lightly hold her hands in his, between them. His thumbs gently brushed the backs of her fingers as if he needed some tangible reassurance to affirm what would otherwise be difficult to believe.
            "Few stories since have compared to those shared," he confided for her alone, the lilt and pace of his voice a remembrance of a poem, eyes to hers. "It is good to see you."
            As if reminded by his own words, Devin explained and excused his own appearance, "I; we all; have been through a bit of an ordeal." Save for the faint, fresh line of a new scar falling down the center of his right brow and cheekbone, he looked worse for wear, grimed, but otherwise mostly unwounded -- what hurts he had endured had been seen to and mostly healed to the extent they could be.
            "Please," he stepped back, letting her hands slip free from his while inviting her to follow and step forward to meet. Though not particularly adept at graces in such a crowd, as reminded by Bergi's recent example at least brief introductions were warranted.
            "Amrynn;" he began, for the parties benefit, and gestured with a succinct upturned hand for each person in turn, "Rhaina, leader; I'Daiin, Durriken, Bergi. Up to the fighting our way from the goblins' fortification, Quickfoot was also with us." More solemnly, Devin gestured to the forward bier where Quickfoot's covered body had been placed. "My friends, this is Amrynn."
            Amrynn's heart raced. Of all those souls in the world she had least expected to see before the end of her long days, Devin was the one she had selected the most likely. Their parting had been surrounded with such finality that to countenance another meeting was beyond her will to believe. Yet here she was standing before him, he before her. She could not help but let the smile on her face linger; the pleasure of her heart skipping a beat, or two, at his reappearance to be indulged in. The mutterings of the gathered crowd faded to a dim, barely heard, backdrop, the light that pierced the interior of the cathedral softened, the brief memories they had both created and shared returned with a surprising vividness of colour and texture and smell. Yes, she could not help but let the smile linger.
            And then she was jolted back to the reality of her presence before Devin's companions as he let her hands drop; the brief, timeless bond was broken. He introduced each. Social niceties, no small measure of her upbringing in Churlwood, asserted themselves. She drew herself up to her full height, straightened her shoulders and formerly acknowledged each as they were presented to her.
            “I count Devin as dear a friend as I could of any. A friend of his I count a friend of mine.” She laid a hand upon his arm and smiled at him, reinforcing the bond; once thought severed, yet merely stretched and now pulled them together once more; that existed between them. Her delicate brows faintly pulled together at the sight of the scar; she would query him in its regard.
            Amrynn's momentary scrutiny was missed as the reciprocal touch of her hand set Devin to brief distraction and warm affirmation. His hand crossed to rest upon hers at his arm, tightened briefly over hers, sharing and acknowledging and promising he was not about to step away, and looking forward to when they could speak together when current circumstances were properly concluded.
            The sight of Quickfoot's draped body recalled to her the reason she had separated herself from the crowd and approached the group in the first place. The mutterings of the crowd about them etched clearly the delicacy with which she must approach the subject. She turned to the Father, the officials who stood at his shoulder, and to the Heroes, embracing them all with the words she spoke. “Quickfoot was a man of strength, honour, integrity, steadfast in his friendship and brave beyond measure. I knew him not; and this absence of his acquaintance is a hole in my life which I know not how deep it might be; I have little doubt that what I say of him is true.”
            She shifted her attention to emphasise the Heroes. “Yet it would be a travesty of the highest order if he were to be subject to the rites that have been described by the Father.” She raised a hand to hold any comment or protest that settled upon the tongues of those before her. “I mean no disrespect. On the contrary. Quickfoot has served and sacrificed in the name of Sandpoint and its people. No greater price can be paid than the one he willingly made for all who stand within these walls.”
            “But he is elven. And his last journey must be with and amongst his kin. The priests and elders of his homeland must be the ones to lay his body to rest and allow his soul to be free to ride the winds and the trails of the forest of his birth, where his own kith, kin and ancestors live.” She took a breath. And pulled her shoulders back, raising her chin. An elf; tall, proud, elegant and steadfast in her defence of the rights of one her own.
            The Paladin took time to note the intimate contact between Amrynn and Devin.Done subtly,but the emotion in those fleeting touches warmed her to the Elven Lady “Thank you Devin She brushed past the intro as Leader and stepped into the role as if it was decided,though she knew it would require some discussion before she would feel wholly comfortable. Amrynn sees a very tall leanly muscular, beautiful silver haired woman with Shoanti Tattoos on her right shoulder and arm . Dressed somewhat immodestly,though clearly as a warrior.Yet no armour whatsoever,clearly a mystery since she bore few scars “Welcome Lady Amrynn.Devin is indeed someone we count as a friend. Given his excellent council during our last battle he is also a tested and true member of our company
            Devin's sincere, tight smile rose at Rhaina's declaration of friendship, and the weight of what they'd been through to attain it, but didn't respond to her ready praise save to look down and slightly aside uncomfortably. The press of the crowd and such strong pronouncements were both outside his preference.
            "I am Rhaina called Silverhair,Paladin of the Dawnflower.Please permit me to set your mind at ease. It would not occur to us to do anything to dishonour the man who led us up till his untimely death. I feel we would be guided by your wisdom in this matter and be assured that myself and I believe Brother Durriken,a Priest in service to Pharasma will support you with regards to Father Zantus plans. Please come with me and if you wish we will discuss it with the good Father now before too many plans are set.WHile I do not wish to be presumptuous would you be interested in joining us in protecting Sandpoint against the Evil arrayed to it’s peril"
            Amrynn notes that her hair shimmers when she moves and seems at times to almost move of it’s own volition.Her eyes radiate the same silvery light.Very unusual for a Human
            The tall elf was caught by surprise by the silver-haired woman's invitation to join them. She had barely been in their presence a handful of minutes. Save for Devin she knew these souls not. She did not know which way to answer. She feared insult with too immediate a decline of their offer; yet she could feel the pull of the good that surrounded them tug at her. They had purpose. A collective will that drew them in the one direction; though still they had themselves; individual eddies within a twisting stream.
            And then there was Devin. It had been how long? Perhaps he was reason enough?
            "Stay and hear," Devin added, to Amrynn, with an unspoken request for her to confirm she had no pressing callings, that she had no reason she could not stay, whatever he answer to Rhaina's request might subsequently be. Truth to it, even with Rhaina's kind words and proclamations of solidarity, Devin knew his own future was marginally tenuous. At the least, Bergi had asked more of him; answers he couldn't have yet provided. He'd fought and bled alongside all of them; that was an incredibly strong bond; but it was the truth that he himself knew little of the party's objectives and pursuits. Of them, Devin realized he had some questions of his own, but no misgivings.
            Sheriff Helmock stepped closer. He didn't need to do any more to bring attention upon himself; he had that sort of presence.
            "I'm very sorry for your loss. Now is not the time to hear what happened, I know. But I would like it if it was as soon as possible - tomorrow, if you can. Sandpoint's fate could hang in the balance."
            Mayor Deverin put a hand on his arm, stopping whatever else he might have had to say. "Your zeal is commendable, Belor, but I think we should step back now and let them grieve. You all have the town's deepest sympathies," she said, then let the rest of the crowd pushing around them swallow her and the Sheriff (well, most of him) while crying children, shocked shopkeepers and other townsfolk came to see the body for themselves, and offer their commiseration at Quickfoot's death.

35


            Once they had been herded through the cathedral to the support buildings that housed the priests and, of course, the unburied dead, Father Zantus asked Amrynn to tell him what would be appropriate for Quickfoot's funeral. "He may not have been here long, but he certainly gave our town character," the old priest said as Rhaina and I'Daiin laid him on a cold stone slab in the cellar. "His real name was Llanothen Tladrathil. Do you know of any family of his?"
            The barbarian stared at his feet while Zantus spoke. When I'Daiin finally raised his head, his eyes were wet. He spoke in a voice hoarser than his usual rich, low rumble, clearing his throat. "I know nothing of his elven family nor his kin." His eyes met Amrynn's, reddened Shoanti orbs locking with the wide irised elven gaze. "But know that we were also his family, by blood and deed, and shall remain so." He slid his vision back to the pitiful form of Quickfoot. "My life-debt is not forgotten, brother elf," he said in a voice that ended in a whisper. "We will abide with what you feel is best," he concluded, addressing the air with an empty tone.
            Devin, lacking words of his own, nodded in agreement to I'Daiin's conclusion, looking back to Father Zantus. Though Devin had known Quickfoot but all too short a time, he had stood shoulder to shoulder with him, against goblins and worse. Devin knew that when he remembered the fight, he would best remember the dramatic surge of hope in the pivotal moment when Quickfoot and party had burst upon the goblin's killing floor, and called him free.
            Not wanting to interrupt the mourning of the others and the townsfolk, Durriken had remained silent other than to nod in agreement that he would partake in the funeral ceremony. He was equally agreeable when it became apparent that other elves wanted him to be lain to rest in more elven traditions, "Of course," he said with a soft voice, "No disrespect was intended. We only wish to send Quickfoot to the afterlife in the proper manner." After that he took his place near the back of the group. He was quite new as well and didn't want to assume too much during this difficult time.
            Amrynn breathed easier. The first obstacle had been overcome. Acceptance of the elven way had been quick, and without protest. “Thank you,” she said, her head inclining in gratitude towards Father Zantus for his and their willingness to allow her way, the elven way, to be followed. “Quickfoot's family, the elven family, are grateful for your ready acknowledgement of our ways.”
            One swiftly flowing river successfully forded. Another loomed before her.
            “I do not know the name Tladrathil. It is not of the Churlwood; though the Sanos Forest to the east is larger. Perhaps his family call their home within its boundaries.”
            Her conviction wavered. Despite her commitment to ensuring Quickfoot's passage to Arvanaith, the elven afterlife, that place where the spirit is set free to join kin and ancestor in joyous communion, she was not trained in its way. Only the priests of Sehanine, the elvin goddess of the moon and guardian of the transcending spirits of the dead, could properly conduct the ritual to gather Quickfoot's shattered spirit, discard the mortal husk that was his remains and set him on his way. Despair washed over her. How and where could she hope to find such priests? So far from the elven homelands.
            All this flashed through her mind, witnessed by those about her as a moment's doubt behind her dark grey eyes.
            “Are there elves within Sandpoint?” she queried the Father, the mayor, the sheriff. “Priests. Any who are knowledgeable in or who could perform the I'Passien, The Passing?” She sought to make the best of the worst of circumstances. Quickfoot was far from his homeland; perhaps not all was lost if the right ritual was performed, albeit by strangers to his name and his family and his home. “The mortal remains are but a vessel,” so the words the priests had said, as she grew up within Churlwood, and so she uttered them now, pulling them from her memory. “A container for the spirit that, upon death, is set free to run with those of his brothers and sisters in Arvanaith.”
            Dimly she recalled some of the teachings of her priestly elders, plucking them from the more inaccessible corners of her childhood. “His body requires cremation. But should the death be violent, then the spirit could be sundered. And if so, and not successfully gathered before the body is destroyed, then the fate beholden the spirit does not bear consideration.”
            "It was," Devin nodded solemnly. "We were all fighting for our lives. I was across the chamber on another front, did not see what happened. But it was." Devin looked to Bergi, to Rhaina, to Durriken, who had been nearest Quickfoot when Devin had heard the cry, looked, and seen Quickfoot down only afterwards.
            He had seen the difficulty within her gaze, the moment's concern, and was prepared to ask -- if the townsfolk's answer was negative -- if she could ascertain Quickfoot's spirit's state, if she could attempt to perform The Passing. It was nothing Devin himself knew; nothing he had even heard of; though half his own blood coursed elven. He'd never considered that the elven people may have specific rites required at death; something beyond a significance of custom, solace, or religion. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, a bit overwhelmed by events and press.
            "Sandpoint needs to pay its respects. They'll mind what you say," he affirmed, reassuring to Amrynn; there was no danger of Quickfoot's body being mishandled, at her interjection and caution of need, "and word can be sent, if it must." Surely there was an elven priest within two or three days' travel -- Quickfoot's body could be kept in gentle repose for at least that long until proper rites could be performed. "We need to regather, ourselves. We can return on the morrow, or when the ceremony can be held." Devin knew he danced on the edge of insensitivity to Rhaina, and to I'Daiin, and Bergi, and Durriken, but he felt a rising need to be out of the crowd; to get clean, himself; to obtain clothes beyond the ragged leather pants he wore; to eat and drink in a small group of friends; and to speak freely between them.
            The Paladin smiled sympathetically at the lovely Elven Lady”Forgive my enthusiasm,Lady Amrynn.Of course you need time, as does Devin to renew your friendship. Please take the time to clean and cloth yourself my new Friend”and with that she held out her hand to the half-elf,quietly granting them leave to depart with a nod of her head “Hopefully you both will join us for a meal at the Rusty Dragon,whilst arrangements for Quickfoot are finalized.
            She turned to the remaining members of the group.”My friends we find ourselves poorer for the loss of a comrade and poorer in purse for having gained nothing to replace resources spent on the assault. I am of a mind to speak with the Mayor and ask for some small assistance to allow us to reequip for our next move,which also must be discussed.”
            She lowered her head in modesty before continuing to speak ”Devin introduced me to Amrynn as Leader of the group,though no such accolade has been granted me by your words.Think on it and if you wish it,I would be honoured to accept or stand aside in favour of another.
            I'Daiin merely grunted at the idea of Rhaina being the leader. "Just tell me where to aim the sword and stand back, O Leader, though we are of different Quahs." He grinned toothily after that. Then he frowned. "That slender slip of an elf saved my times more than we fool Shoanti can count." Then he grinned again.
            Devin nodded affirmation of her hope and leaned close to Rhaina to whisper without edge, "Leader, not sovereign." He surreptitiously added a wink to Rhaina as he drew back. "Thank you," then to the other party members again, "thank you all. I would not be here but for your help, and I know it. Until the Rusty Dragon, then."
            “Smartass” The Paladin added in a whisper,also without (much) edge “Shoanti do not have Sovereigns,but I was the War-Chief’s daughter if that counts. Run along before I forget I’m supposed to be civilized now”She added,(also)with a surreptitious wink
            "Amrynn... I have some personal things," Devin explained, spreading his arms slightly with upturned hands to emphasize his lack of attire. "You are welcome -- more than welcome -- to walk with me, but if not, tell me you'll be at the Rusty Dragon."
            Amrynn had no particular need to walk a path of purpose within Sandpoint. She smiled and inclined her head in acceptance. “It has been a long time, Devin. Let us walk. Though promise me,” and her eyes danced with humour, “that our first destination is to a place of wares that will put clothes on your body. And then some soap through your hair.”
            Though she did not allow Devin to depart the cathedral, not yet, not until Quickfoot's immediate future was placed in trusted hands. She spoke quietly with Father Zantus, offering advice, albeit lay from an elf untrained in the divine arts of the priests. Perhaps word could be sent to the nearest large town for an elven priest, one who could conduct the I' Passien, if such could be organised and accomplished within a day or so from now. She herself was willing to assist, would he honoured to do so; she blanched at the fantasy of conducting the ceremony herself.
            Devin sought out the proprietors who had generously offered him solace, and obtained instructions on how to reach their places of business.

36


            And so it was decided that on the next market day (Fireday, tomorrow), word would be sent back to Magnimar with a merchant, requesting the presence of an elven priest. Until then, Father Zantus would pray that Desna grant Quickfoot a reprieve from rot, and prepare a pyre for his body in the Boneyard.
            The crowd had ebbed by the time the party left the magnificent cathedral, followers of all six faiths represented, as well as those who had come to see what had happened to the Heroes, now returned home for supper. Only one inconsolable child remained, huddled in the pews.
            As the group is ready to depart from the cathedral, Durriken spots the young boy crying in the pews. Walking over he quietly sits next to the boy and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "I am sorry for your loss, young one," he said quietly. "Did you know Quickfoot well?"
            The boy looked up at Durriken tearfully, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve. "He made us Heroes too. And he let me carry his sword that he got from killing goblins." He looked down at his fisted hands in his lap. "I went down to the docks and waved when he left."
            I'Daiin walked back to the child quietly, and knelt. The huge muscled warrior looked like a predator next to the small child, but his voice was soft. "Where are your family, little one?" He reached into a satchel and pulled out Quickfoot's bag of marbles, plucking one out to glint in the light. "Do you want these?"
            "I don't got a family. I live at Turandarok." The boy sniffled, but regarded the marbles with interest. "Why've you got marbles? You're a Shoanti. You don't play marbles, you kill all the monsters with your sword-shields," he said with great authority.
            "Those are called -sklar-, and they are used with great honor in the Cinderlands and on the Plateau," said the towering barbarian gently. "As for the marbles, you'd be surprised what two-legged beasts you can trip up with a bag of these."
            The boy dried his nose on his sleeve, his tears having abated at this interesting line of inquiry. He held out his hands shyly for the bag of marbles. "You mean like the Chopper?"
            Durriken nods in understanding as the young lad gives word to his grief, "I understand your sadness but Quickfoot fought very bravely for Sandpoint. We should rejoice in his willingness to sacrifice so that we might live on and carry on his tradition of helping those who cannot. You are young but remember the lesson well. Everyone is capable of being a hero in their own way. Find your way to serve Sandpoint when you are ready. That is the best way to remember Quickfoot."
            The boy nodded uncertainly, clearly not really understanding the abstract nature of honoring Quickfoot. One thing, though, took root. "I'll be a real Hero too one day," he said with determination.
            I'Daiin nodded at Durriken's words. "I'll do you one better, lad. When we come back to Sandpoint with a brace of goblins, I'll give you a lesson in holding a sword. What do they teach you at Turandarok?"
            The boy gawped at I'Daiin in sudden eagerness, his sorrow momentarily forgotten. "Wow! Really? Yes please! Sir, I mean!" He jumped to his feet in sheer excitement, but calmed down a little as the Shoanti's question registered. "Oh... boring stuff. Reading and math and history and things. But not how to hold a real sword! Is it your sword?" he asked, eyeing I'Daiin's array of weapons greedily.

37


            There were few people out and about at this hour, but those who were offered their condolences to the party as they passed, heading back to The Rusty Dragon.
            Once seated around a table at their destination, and once Bethana had been assured to her satisfaction that her granddaughter Bergi was safe and sound, a fine meal was laid out for them by Ameiko herself, before the innkeeper retreated to give them what privacy was to be had in the common room of an inn.
            But for the brilliance of his eyes, Devin was nearly unrecognizable in comparison his earlier appearance. He was cleaned well, refreshed, and outfitted from what generally well-fit clothing Rynshinn had immediately available while -- as she insisted -- she tailored a few pieces to Devin over the next day or two. He now wore a deep green tunic with full sleeves with a dark leather vest over, worn unbuttoned, and fresh dark leather pants and nearly-new boots. Rynshinn, through some machinations and coordination with peers, had also obtained him a very serviceable belt, and a weaponsbelt over it, with a leather sheath for his shortsword, a sheathed dagger, and a single belt pouch to carry sundry. His hair, previously near-black with dried blood and filth from his ordeal, shone a deep amber.
            The tall elf woman had assumed a seat before the expansive meal at Devin's right hand. She sat quietly; she was new, knew Devin's friends even less than Devin himself. She sat and listened; smiled when needed, answered and questioned and conversed as required; watched; as Ameiko busied herself and her staff with the setting of the table.
            As befitting the occasion of a meal, she had spent a few moments to prepare herself for the affair; her hair had been brushed until it shone, the serviceable clothes she had worn upon the road swapped for something more akin to formal dining; albeit what clung to her body now spoke more of practicality than it did of fashion. Moments of her past visited her; sitting at her father's table in the family home, friends about for an evening meal; Celebrations of birthdays and holy feasts; quieter events with people of import. They all made this feel familiar; she settled into the situation as an old pair of shoes might slip upon her feet after a season of discard.
            The appreciation and notoriety expressed by Sandpoint's people were discomfiting and foreign, but he did his best to bear it well. Despite his confidence, efficiency, and presence, he was not one to readily walk upon lit stages. Even a small gathering such as this had social niceties and pleasantries that made him self-conscious, conducted through reserved will of effort, in contrast to the determined fluid efficiency with which he'd acted when survival was at stake.
            Amrynn could feel Devin's discomfort. In his posture, the quick, uncertain movements of his hands, the constant altering of his position upon his seat. She refrained from referring to it directly. Instead she laid an occasional hand upon his arm and once or twice caught his eye and allowed a reassuring smile to calm his agitated waters.
            Devin, at recognizing Amrynn's reassurance for what it was, smiled shortly, and brushed his leg against hers, under the table, adding a short, "Thanks;" nothing so wordy that would require a larger explanation to the group. He thought he'd been doing an acceptable job of going with the meal's progress, of not feeling a guest at the table, outside of events. Apparently not. He resolved to attempt to see the situation a bit differently and elected to slow his meal, resolved to mostly listen to what would be shared.
            Bergi had listened to it all; the grieving, the welcoming, the concerns and the hopes, the introductions and reunions. The song of Sandpoint soothed most of her hurts and replenished her heart. She contributed her own notes, the somber whispers surrounding Quickfoot, the honest welcome of Amrynn, the squealing squeeze with Ameiko, the contented sigh within the warmth of her Rusty Dragon family. Despite the loss of one of their own, harmony surrounded them once more, the discord of Thistletop far distant.
            She had refreshed herself and straightened out the worst of her wrinkles. A fresh length of ribbon was tied into her hair, the last being soiled beyond salvage. Her fingers plucked idly at the small harp on her lap as she waited for the others to assemble, plucking at a tune which echoed in her memory. She couldn’t help but smile as the elven blooded joined them, Devin having undergone such a transformation and now joined by Amrynn. They made quite the pair. The smile drifted from her as she pondered if they could only have gained a pairing each time a hero had fallen.
            "Your group has history together," Devin stated the obvious, once they had privacy, graciously granted by the innkeeper. "Would you share it?"
            “Always and all ways,” Bergi said, “though there’s not much to it in truth. Each here’ll convey what they will of their cause and currency. As for me, I’m a simple country girl. Sandpoint is my love and life, and so I stand to protect it from the goblins that have started raiding. I story and sing to those deserving, be it lizard-riding lunatics or hands in the fields, that’s to say, them’s with no time for the fancifuls. Someone’s got to preserve the truth of it, or it all just blows away on the wind, leaving us with nothing but the same tired verse to sing.”
            Bergi had an innate charm and a dance with words about her; Devin felt himself not unpleasantly being pulled into the images and emphasis she wove. She spoke plainly, stated her mind, but put a color to it that emphasized more than words the Sandpoint was her home, and why it was worth fighting for.
            He began to ask, "When did the gobl..."
            Bergi held up a hand, staying Devin’s question.
            “I know. You’d know more about the goblins,” Bergi said. “Any’s can see you’re a practical sort, lean of purpose if it do ya, and that’s good, especially the way things are going. Everyone knows gobbos are dumb as a bag a’ hammers, and it’s come to light that someone’s riling them up, giving them purpose. We crossed some of those souls earlier, sword and slinger alike, but there seems to be more at the root of it. We’re trying to figure and digger out before Sandpoint goes cattywampus.”
            “There’ve been others that paid the price before Quickfoot,” she continued, “and for that we’re grateful for your understanding, Amrynn. We cannot spare the shoes or swords to send Quickfoot home just now, but we’ll honor him however best we may. I know we’ve no right to ask, but if it’s causes you’re looking for, I can think of no better way to honor your fallen kinsmen than to take up his arms.”
            “Which reminds me,” she held up a finger. “I asked Ameiko to have Quickfoot’s kit brought to our quarters here. We need to divvy up what we can, because I think any answers we’re looking for are with some of those buggers up at Thistletop.”
            When it was clear Bergi had said what she most needed to, Devin asked, "So you all gathered about Quickfoot, and went after the goblins from here? Straight to kill Ripnugget?" That seemed oversimplified and foolhardy to him, but if that was the sum total of it, so be it; they'd succeeded, though so much more had apparently been uncovered in the venture, as well as lives lost.
            "That arcanist Lyrie, and that brawler, Orik, with the bugbear shield -- that fight was the first I'd seen of either of them, first I'd known anyone but goblins and bugbears were in the fort." Devin turned and explained succinctly to Amrynn, "Humans, maybe mixed lineage, colluding with the goblins in the fort. We fought them back, bloodied a few noses, but they're out there somewhere."
            "Do you know anything about them?" he asked, including Bergi, Rhaina, I'Daiin, and Durriken all in his question. His manner of asking was halfway between considering future needs to finish that fight, and trying to piece together what was going on in Sandpoint.
            The Paladin arrived at the table,her hands full of Ale pitchers as well as a bottle of what she had be promised was a “Good Vintage” of Wine for those with a more delicate palette . She laid one in front of herself and I’Daiin and the rest in the middle of the table. Rhaina then produced two wine glasses she had carried under her arm”Thought I was gonna drop those”She grinned at the others,
            She raised a pitcher as others of smaller stature might do with a tankard and waited for the others to join her “To Quickfoot,the slayer of Ripnugget. A true Friend,Comrade and Leader.Rest in Peace,for you shall be avenged” And with one steady draw she drank the pitcher dry,returned it to the table and took another whilst sitting back,her eyes studied the others to gauge any reaction to her toast
            Devin, having filled his own mug from one of the pitchers, raised it to Rhaina's toast and nodded, "To Quickfoot." He had wondered what Rhaina intended with the pitcher she held, and at seeing her down him with remarkable expediency, nearly forgot to drink from his own mug as the toast was consummated. Before his delay became too lengthy he drank from his mug -- not finishing it in a single draught, but a goodly gulp or two.
            "Rhaina -- that's my third witnessed arrival so far; each time surprising, each time memorable," Devin grinned, saluting her with a forward cast of his mug before returning it to the table.
            The grin he got was both warm and genuine,but tempered with a wink,”Careful with that Devin,don’t go choking on your cup. I gave you just a l’il one ,but ale can go to your head if you’ve no experience with it. Rhaina shrugged,clanking her pitcher against I’Daiin’s to punctuate her comment”Of course you’re not Shoanti,so I’ll give you some time.
            She then elbowed I’Daiin,and not gently”Sure tastes better than the Hagfish,eh Cousin?!”
            Rhaina smiled at Amrynn,then feigned shock at Devin’s appearance and finally leaned over to gently squeeze Bergi’s shoulder. “I remember we were fighting on the bridge when Quickfoot thought we should move forward and it proved to be a trap. He took responsibility for the mistake,strode to the front of the line and stood with I’Daiin,when I was wounded. We might not have made it out of that but for his courage.He was a good leader.”
            Bergi took a few seconds to fill in all of Devin’s missing words and absent flourish before she whistled in contrition at his delivery. His sentences were like jabs to the imagination; his timing swift dagger slices to the story he was trying to tell.
            “You and I are going to dance aplenty, my dear half-elf,” she said with a smile, “if the song in your heart marches the same as the words across your lips. Brevity’s fine from time to time, when the dice are rollin’, but you need the color, you need the chords, you need the -spirit- in that song if you want your tale to move mountains.”
            She was genuine in her fondness of their contrasting ways and seemed willing to rise to the challenge.
            Devin realized he was being gently chastised -- purposefully not sharply-dealt, and truly more an amicable observation. He tried to say by way of apology, "I do enjoy the roll and texture of the story you weave and share, Bergi; if my heart could slow its pace, I'd wish for such a knack as you say, true." Upon the tabletop, with his fingers smoothly rolling in their own dance at its base, Devin's half-full mug pirouetted inattentively, the variations upon its surface slowly upon repeating display to no audience in particular. "A lot has happened; a lot is happening; it's difficult to remember a time, at present, when one die or another wasn't in flight."
            "Please... I interrupted..."
            Swinging her head back and forth between the others, Bergi dove back in to the story she had started. “We’re tiptoeing backwards now, mind you,” she said, walking her tiny fingers in the air, “a little at a time so as not to set you spinning. Yours wasn’t our first rescue, and that wasn’t our first poke at Thistletop. We tried to slip through the maze of nettles, and there rescued a gnome named…”
            She paused and pointed at I’Daiin, queuing the Shoanti for an answer.
            I'Daiin jerked his head up, lost in thought. "Mm? Yes, Squid, that was his name. Don't forget Amismara. Well, I suppose we must take the fight to them again. We ought to buy a few supplies, maybe sell a few things. We aren't fighting with cunning. Goblins want fire? Burn them with alchemist's fire. Cloud their vision. They are devilishly clever--Ripnugget showed us for fools." The barbarian, notably, didn't seem to be drinking much today.
            “Squib!” she corrected with a chuckle. “Slew us a nasty druid greenskin too amid those wicked thorns and rapped right on Thistledown’s front door, we did. Turned out they were ready for us, and we needed to recall and recount. Tight spot. Rope bridge. Too easy for that seeeea of goblins to defend. The arrows sang their song in both directions, but the notes were windy sour.”
            “We squared our Sandpoint business and circled our wagons. Said our goodbyes and hellos, and thought we’d take a stab at cutting off the head of that big green snake coiled at Thistletop. We jollyjammed our way out to the island and snuck a peek inside. You’ve been dancing with us ever since.”
            She paused right before taking a swig from her cup. “Which brings to mind. If you -do- sign on with us, in defense of Sandpoint, you’d earn your fare share of whatever we spoil. Plus, Ameiko would let you live and eat at the Dragon on her copper, though I’d take it as a kindness if you still tipped the help. Shopkeeps have pitched in, and any needs ten-coin or less are met free of charge, within reason, by most. Not for steel or the like, mind you, though Savah does knock a fifth off her prices for us. Take it to mind if you fancy doing good works.”
            -Then- she took a drink.
            Devin nodded slowly, considering. He looked to Rhaina, more to prompt any further additions she may have to Bergi's tale, though Devin knew Rhaina had arrived in Sandpoint only recently, herself. He saw no indication Rhaina was of a mind to rescind her offered invitation to join, at the dock. He added I'Daiin, and Durriken, and even Amrynn into his survey, weighing what he could tell of their minds and inclinations. I'Daiin was a little longer in the tale, from hearing Bergi's telling. Durriken stated himself as relatively new to the group.
            "Defense of Sandpoint," he mulled Bergi's words aloud. He looked about the room they were sharing meal within, remembered the ready acceptance of the people of Sandpoint, remembered how what seemed the whole of the town had come together and shared the loss of Quickfoot. It... felt... worth defending, worth being a part of, if he could be. He imagined one of the aforementioned dice tumbling to a temporary rest.
            "Okay." Then, with more conviction, he nodded again and said affirmatively, "Okay. If we're part of the line between Sandpoint and the goblins' axis, I'm in. I'm not going in for a score to settle, I'm with you for the sake of Sandpoint, and helping spare its folk from whomever's running the nefariousness. Even shares, feast or famine."
            He cracked half a grin and advised them all, though mostly to Bergi, "Friendship regardless, mind: any verbal flowers I ever deliver will surely still be curtly slashed mid-stem and short a petal or four."
            Devin, now sitting a bit more upright and forward at the table, resting on elbows with both hands forward and fingers gauging the texture of the edge of his wooden plate, turned his head towards Amrynn, at his right, translating his engaged posture into a slight leftward incline of his head as he looked up and askance at her. The half-grin softened without fading; the invitation and prompting clear for her having also seen and heard the crux of what was here in Sandpoint, what was happening, and what could be done for it. Rhaina had already extended a to-the-point invitation earlier; it was out there. Now, no words aloud from Devin, but they may as well have been -- stay, join the company, see where it goes, as long as it suited her.
            The weaving of the words into a tapestry no less substantial and intricate than that created by the master weavers of the east. Colours, shapes, textures, emotions and feelings made manifest in silk and cotton. Thus were the tools of their trade and in a vein not dissimilar to their own did the weavers of song and word create wondrous scenes of equal infinite variety.
            Bergi was one skilled in such an art; the images she conjured were ethereal, insubstantial and fleeting, yet they touched the same depths of emotions; fear, joy, sadness, and hope; and brought them forth for the entertainment and edification of those who claimed the role of her audience.
            She made the attack on Thistletop, itself no doubt a bloody and vicious battle, the brutality of it made painfully evident by the loss of their comrade and brother Quickfoot, seem almost romantic, a place for heroes and villains to dance their duels in the name of black and white good and evil. Reality was singularly different. Yet the word-dance of Bergi made it seem so.
            Beside her she could feel Devin come to a decision; the fidgeted tension swept from him; she could feel his eyes turn to her; she could feel the other's also. Bergi's words echoed within her mind. Was there no better cause to align one's self with than that of good? What these folks before her fought for was nothing short of exactly that. And Devin had allied himself with them. She could feel his pull, and that of their cause.
            When she had walked into Sandpoint that morning, she had little, no, she had had -no- inclination of the twists her path would take that day. A lost friend found; a cause hitherto unknown made plain; an invitation for companionship offered. She offered a small word of thanks to Desna for this bend upon the road that had surprisingly, though not unwillingly, to this point of decision.
            She looked about all the companions, seeking any sign that might persuade her to say no. She saw none. She sought Rhaina's eyes. And smiled.
            “You offered me companionship within the ranks of the Heroes of Sandpoint. Unexpected to be sure, but no less welcome. I have spent enough days upon the road with nary but the birds and beasts to call companions. I do not complain,” she added quickly. “They can be greater friends than those with a self-proclaimed grander notion of their importance.” She inclined her head in acceptance of the silver-haired woman's offer. “Thank you,” she replied. “I accept your gracious offer. And shall strive to not replace, but complement the elvish memory of Quickfoot, may his soul find peace.”
            She caught Devin's eye, and smiled; pleased; satisfied; excited. Yes, indeed, she thought. What twists further has Desna in mind for the path she traveled?
            Devin readily responded to Amrynn's smile with a welcome smile of his own. Friends and events were coalescing quickly; any thoughts he may have been originally harboring of treating Sandpoint as a waypoint during his brief caravan stint were further unobtrusively rescinded. Amazing how fast the right circumstances could make a suddenly-new venue feel intrinsically welcoming and worth protecting.
            At the tavern, Durriken picks at his supper meal and nurses his drink, content to allow the others to tell the stories. He was still new to the group himself so did not want to overstep is position by speaking. Besides, Bergi was just so much better at it than he was.
            Rhaina paused halfway through her second pitcher,set it in on the table and straightened up,listening to the conversations from Amrynn,Bergi along with Devin’s words of assent to her offer to join them. She looked at each in turn,caught their gaze,Amrynn lastly.She reached out and gently touched the back of the Elf’s hand ”Lady Amrynn,please take nothing from what I’m about to say to make you feel coerced into joining us,for the choice is yours . And if you have skills to aid us in our struggle, and wish to accompany us,then any companion of Devin’s is most welcome”
            “Comrades.We have changes in our company since my joining it,but Quickfoot’s loss is the hardest of all,for he fell at our side. I do not intend ,in any way to make light of that loss,neither do I council haste in planning our next move against the enemy. She paused letting the thoughts of the day run through her mind before continuing
            ”Devin;I believe I speak for us all in saying that any debt you may feel for our fortuitous rescue has been more than repaid by your courage,skill at arms and tactical advice in our last battle. You have need of gear and correct me my friends if I overstep....,but I cannot imagine Quickfoot wishing his gear to sit idle while one who has pledged to aid in Sandpoint’s goes without. If there is no objection from Bergi,Durriken or my Cousin here I would say please avail yourself of that equipment.
            "I'll... I'll take a look at it, sure, though it'd be somewhat haunting awkward to carry his gear in his stead. If I can put it to use in the cause, I will. Thank you." Devin said.
            Now to the future.We gained no gold from that battle and replenishing our supplies is something we need to see to,before we can plan our next move. I am willing,if Bergi would assistme ;to go and speak with the Mayor regarding acquiring monies towards that replenishment? Much needed I think for my purse is too light to see what I used restored and it may be the same for you all as well Tell me your thoughts?
            From what Devin understood, Sandpoint had an informal barter arrangement with the party -- lodging, food, equipment, and so forth in recognition and appreciation of what they were doing. It was Bergi's home. The problem with an ongoing barter was always the moment one party felt they were putting in more than they were getting back; gold and coin had a way of evening the scales of fair value for value. That said, Devin had no standing to contribute to the negotiation one way or another -- there'd been enough recent changes in the last day of his life to make him content for the time being. He didn't contribute cause or concern towards Rhaina's question, leaving it to the more experienced members of the group to discuss.
            “We need to get a nights rest and plan with clear minds. As I see it both ways into Thistletop,that we are aware of, is also known to our enemy and therefore likely guarded. Now Devin’s plan to release whatever Beast was in that shed may have served to mask the route of our retreat,but we can ill afford to assume that. And the rope bridge is a precarious path at any time...but Perhaps they will come to us. Whatever we accomplished in our two fights up there we did diminish their numbers. It came to me that they might think to try and free the Bird Crunchers from the jail. A very Barbarian shrug followed”Or not.”
            “There is also the matter of the bodies of the caravan members who died in the attack.They certainly deserve better than to be left lying at the roadside;but that may be a problem for others.Both Devin and myself travelled with them and I would at least see if we can somehow resolve that before we head into battle again
            Amrynn felt both a part of the conversation, yet, more keenly, apart. She was barely known to the group with whom she sat about the table, Devin partly excluded by virtue of their meeting those years before. They threw the verbal ball backwards and forwards with the practiced ease of companions who have stood shoulder to shoulder against a common foe. She had yet to earn their trust and their true acceptance. That would come in time, she was sure. And as they all alluded to in their own particular ways, that time seemed well nigh.
            “Know,” she said into the silence that Rhaina's words had laid upon the table, “that I pledge myself to your cause. And as such, with the faith and trust I have to give you as an elf of the house Gamirdren, of Churlwood, whatever it is that you decide is best for Sandpoint, and for the greater good of yourselves and those to whom you pledge your own allegiance, I will follow you in what ever it is that you decide.” She raised her goblet of wine, the ale was too strong for own delicate palette. “Whether that be to lay to peaceful rest the slaughtered members of the caravan who now this very moment lay untended upon the bare earth,” and she nodded to both Rhaina and Devin, “or whether it be to lay asunder the goblins who took the life of your dear comrade Quickfoot.”
            "Gah; the caravan..." Devin recalled uncomfortably, the goblin raid and his eponymous subdual and capture the start of an all-too-fresh and all-too-unpleasant chapter of his life he was glad to have closed. "Sandpoint'll depend on trade along that route, but the backs of the goblins have been broken, or at least their noses broken. Surely there's enough security for a detail from Sandpoint to set out and see to the caravan's wreckage and attend what's left?" Devin mentally considered, then realized he needed to ask to clarify, "How many days ago was that?" In the goblins' dungeons; and in his unconsciousness; he truly had no fair idea of how many days had passed.
            "There're also bits you're mentioning I'm not aware of -- the Bird Crunchers, the town's capture of goblins in the jail, the other way into Thistletop -- a rope bridge? -- and so on. I suppose that can wait until the morning, with fresh eyes."
            Bergi smiled at the dialogue shared by the comrades in arms. That was what they were now. Comrades. Both Devin and Amrynn had agreed to sign on for Sandpoint’s cause, and Rhaina would prove to be a stout leader for this new chapter of the story.
            The wee halfling took a deep breath and continued the tale, for all must hear it true.
            “I can answer some of those questions now, Devin,” Bergi said. “Two paths into the fort we’ve tried, through the nettle maze that lead to a rope bridge which put as the front gate, and later we scaled one of the back walls after boating to a remote beach. The Thistletop goblins are the ones t’wer headed by Ripnugget. The Birdcruncher clan raided Sandpoint earlier, and those are the ones we have caged. Yuga was a shining example, and there’s no love lost between Birdcruncher and Thistletop.”
            Devin absorbed this news with some surprise -- he hadn't considered there might be multiple clans involved, much less that Sandpoint might be sitting on some sort of disputed territory between them...
            “Which brings us to the next backward dance of the story,” Bergi said. “Two natives of Sandpoint have run afoul of the shadows which blanket our fair town. Nualia, daughter of the previous spiritual leader of Sandpoint, Father Tobyn, was presumed killed in the fire which claimed her father. In truth, she was corrupted by the wicked will of…” and here Bergi leaned in and whispered, “…Lamashtu…” before returning to regular volume, “…and in the catacombs beneath Sandpoint we did battle with a host of abominations brought forth by the followers of that wicked path. A quasit, who wielded that tiny cold iron dagger, vargouilles, lemures, hellhounds and a HOST of other…bitey things.”
            ...and much, much less had Devin considered that Sandpoint sat upon much, much older grounds that had their own history which might be motivating the disputes.
            Bergi looked around and nodded at the others but realized that only one or two allies remained who had paid witness to those dark affairs. She didn’t feel sadness though. Each had played their part, and new heroes had arisen to carry on the fight.
            “With heart breaking conviction,” she continued, “Tsuto, sister of our dear Ameiko here who runs the Dragon, is committed heart and soul to, the woman who once was and to the beast who now is, Nualia. He awaits trial in the dungeons for cutting down his own father and butchering other citizens to carve a path for his beloved. It is a twisted song, rife with notes both sweet and sour for the recounting, though I draw no pleasure in the retelling.”
            She offered the newcomers a wan smile. “You would walk with us on this perilous trail, and for that, my heart sings. But know that there be more than goblins and swordplay on the road ahead. Many have walked the road you now do; Andok of the Sklar-Quah, Amismara priestess of Shelyn, Hrolfr the Rover son of Ketil, the frost gnome Todd, Cael Moonsinger and Silverpaw, my kinsman Evan, and Fangess and Nacklewocket and Gronk and now…Quickfoot. Some have bled, some have moved on and some have…moved beyond. Something seeks to destroy Sandpoint, a sinister force that attacks us from without and rots us from within. We rejoice at your willingness, your promise of protection for our town, but enter into this arrangement with eyes wide open and no questions in your heart, for the journey ahead will be unforgiving, and unyielding, and like no other you have encountered.”
            Bergi paused for a moment, tears lining her eyes. “But I can promise you this. You’ll not walk it alone.” She raised her mug and, after clanking cups with whoever was willing, buried her face in the circle of ale, steeling her will against the emotions which threatened to rise.
            "To compatriots past, and compatriots future," Devin nodded and toasted at absorbing the brunt of what Bergi had had to share, raising his own mug solemnly. "I had no idea the history of your ventures, and of Sandpoint, were both so extensive, while being also so recent."
            “Heartfelt words, Bergi,” Amrynn acknowledged with the raising of her own goblet. “At once full of grief and sadness, and at the same time an ode to courage and sacrifice for the great good that lies within and without us all.”
            “Now,” Bergi said, including both Devin and Amrynn. “We’d hear some of your tale, -both- of your tales, so that we may better see you.”
            "I, uh," Devin started, suddenly on the spot and realizing he had no tale to tell of merit in comparison to the brief history Bergi had just shared. "Whatever I was, well, most of that's behind me now, right? I'm tempted to try to make it more grandiose than it was, but truth to it, I've travelled a lot, as much by need as by choice." Devin looked carefully around the table, knowing how what he was about to say might sound, and not wanting to foul the friendship that had begun to form between them all. "I've been hung out to dry more times than I can count, and that teaches you something, changes you each time, I know. Rarely for the better, I know, too. I don't have to be proud of it, but it's gotten me here alive, and that's something, buggering goblins notwithstanding. And on that, well, I've got few friends in this world, and truth to it, they're all at this table." In a positive way, he added, "I mean that."
            "Look, I joined up with that caravan," Devin nodded to Rhaina; their brief meeting, before the goblin ambush, "more just because I felt it was time to move on someplace else, and while sometimes it's safer to be alone, for a bit on a trade way, a group has some merit. One caravan or another, one odd fortune or another, has seen me around here and there in inland Varisia. I'm no scholar, and half the places I travelled through I couldn't name; they blur together, one spot out of the weather is as good as another, one meal won enough to go on for the next."
            "I, uh, didn't talk to you, I know, there," Devin explained or apologized to Rhaina. "I know I kept a bit to myself. No, I completely kept to myself. I was surprised you'd even remembered my name from those random task assignments at the start, didn't think I'd really been worth anyone's notice." He smirked, "You, of course, stood out with a presence just like you do now; I overheard you come up in most every conversation of hands you safely weren't near."
            Devin sighed. "Look, most people in the world get ahead by stepping on other people. I get that. But it's not for me. I don't step on people, I avoid getting stepped on. When the fights come; and yeah, they have; well, you have to fight with everything you've got today so they don't have the guts or the ability to come at you again tomorrow." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, considering.
            With a sideways glance to the elven woman favored at his right, Devin explained cautiously to the party, "Look, Amrynn doesn't know all this about me; I mean, she's heard the words, and she's sharp, so I know she knows it academically, but she doesn't know it like you've all seen, when we were fighting for our lives to get out of Thistletop. Today, it's scared me every time I think about it, that when she does see it for real, it'll change something. As to what Amrynn and I are, between us," Devin looked up from beneath a contemplative brow at Bergi, "I know you're all too polite to ask, and I appreciate that; I'd like to leave that at that, if we could, and if you'd grant. Some things past just need to be held close within the warm strength of memory, and as I'd never dared hope I'd ever get to see her again, since then, that time is something I've held and protected, very near to me."
            "We'll build whatever we're now fortunate enough to have chance to add to together, today. I mean everybody, everybody here, because I don't think anyone here -- when your own lifeblood's on the line -- would kick down someone else just to try to reach a little higher for yourselves."
            Devin's arms were still crossed, and he observed with a bit of pre-emptive self-dismissal, "That's more talking than I normally do."
            The elf laid a hand on Devin's crossed arm; smiled as she caught his eye briefly. She could feel the conflicted emotions running through him and sought to calm them. A laying of hands and a small smile seemed woefully inadequate to her, yet it was all she had to offer the half-elf.
            Devin smiled brief thanks, but as or more importantly, he rested his hand on hers, on his arm, briefly intertwined fingers, and tightened slightly. He shook his head to assuage as he could; it had just been a lot to say, and he felt better for having said what he could.
            Where to start, Amrynn thought. Not from the beginning, that was too far back. Too much to say, and too much that needed holding in check. The memories were too rocky, too stormy; too painful to go all the way back. So she started where she always started.
            “It was the nuns at Windsong Abbey that gave me solace and shelter when I needed it. I had been on the road for some weeks; the autumn cool was becoming winter's chill and I was not prepared for the ice mistress's ruthless embrace.”
            “I had not long been free of my elven homeland's blanketed comforts and, if I am not so proud that I cannot face truth's merry face, I was ill-prepared for the true hardships of life upon the road.” She snorted. “Foolish really. And I should have known better. But sometimes choices are not in the hands of those who must suffer their consequence. So I found myself upon a muddy road with the chill closing around like wolves for the kill and no respite apparent. The abbey was a welcome sight. Light, food, warmth for a poor elf far from home.”
            “A night's comfort became two, then three, then a week, a month, a year. Their rhythm is seductive and easily wrapped about the soul.” Her eyes grew momentarily distant as she stepped backwards and paid a visit to the abbey and the nuns who resided there. “Yet I am not made of their cloth,” and she was back at the table. “Their calling is not mine. Their destiny is not mine.”
            A small gesture, barely an uttered word and suddenly there was a small flame, a brilliant emerald green, burning in an open palm before her. It danced about her palm like a winged faerie, full of mischief and fun. She brought her other hand, open palm up and allowed the flame to jump from one to the other; it changed from a rich emerald to a deep ruby in colour. For a few seconds it twisted and played upon her palm, flitted from one finger to another. Then she closed those same fingers, gently, quietly, creating a fist. And the flame was gone.
            “Their calling was not mine,” she repeated. “While they seek enlightenment in the divine, my path, in part, lay in the search for the source of the arcane. So I left, to seek more than they could provided me. Though what they offered and gave, freely and without thought of reward, was great. And of course I shall never forget.”
            She paused a moment, allowing her gaze to gauge what the rest of the souls about the table made of her story. She shrugged. What else was there to say? Between setting her back to the abbey to arriving in Sandpoint there was nothing more to tell. Not of consequence.
            “That was a handful of weeks ago. I have made my way south since. Little did I know that I would find a friend thought lost,” and again she laid a hand upon Devin's arm, her smile wide and genuine. “Nor friends hitherto unknown. Or cause to align myself with.”
            "Bah; never lost; just distant in some ways, near in others," Devin smiled.
            With tears in her silvery eyes Rhaina listened intently to Bergi’s calling of the roll and her eloquence moved the Shoanti as it always did She held out her pitcher in acknowledgement of the toasts from Bergi and Devin,then she rose from her seat passing behind I’Daiin ,pausing to take a knee behind the grieving Bard. Rhaina leaned in ,and gently laid her head on the tiny shoulder. She wrapped her arms around both chair and halfling,whispering in Bergi’s ear,before she bussed her friend’s temple “So long as you remember,they are never truly gone,my beautiful,generous friend.I Love you Bergi”
            and after a moment she rose and moved to a spot between Bergi and Durriken. “Whether you give thanks to Pharasma,Shelyn,Saranrae or the Spirit Totems of the Sklar-Quah.And to you Amrynn and Devin also because of whomever you give thanks we are all here alive to not only remember those who went before us. But also,as our newest comrades have so eloquently expressed;to dedicate ourselves to continuing the struggle to rid fair Sandpoint of whatever foulness threatens it.”
            She lays hands on the shoulders of the three others as she returns to her seat and then she turns to the Elves “You are correct Devin,no one here would kick another to gain at their loss,but more than that you sir,have proven that you are ready to risk all on behalf of strangers and that has it’s own nobility about it. Thank you both for renewing our faith that the battle may one day still be won so long as men and women of good such as yourselves are willing to stand against evil.
            As 'noble' wasn't an adjective he'd necessarily apply to himself, Devin smiled acknowledgment, but had to say, "I'm not sure I've proven that, Rhaina... I mean, I fought alongside you all, to get out of Thistletop, and that's one thing, but at the time, you were my way out. Now, signing on to the cause to help Sandpoint... I will, but words make shallow proof. I don't want or deserve that attribution, not like you all have earned, not yet."
            Rhaina reached out her long arms and gently touched the hands of Amrynn and Devin”That you matter to each other is evident and all that we need to know. Feel free to share with us only that which you wish to. And with that,she withdrew her touch
            "Thanks, Rhaina, for understanding." Devin said.
            “We are all weary and need to rest. Rhaina said The four of us have an appointment with the good Sheriff in the morning and I hope that Bergi will join me in beseeching the Mayor for some support that would allow us to reequip. Or perhaps there is someone else here that you feel we would be better off appealing to for that which we need? As Devin alluded to we are not mercenaries,but our group funds are low . For myself ,I do need to acquire an extra potion as well as the Alchemist’s Fire and Tanglefoot bags which stood us in such good stead in that last desperate fight. So what if we were to meet here for the noon meal? That would give our Elven comrades ,time to reacquaint themselves
            Bergi accepted Rhaina’s gesture without presumption, resting a cheek along the paladin’s forearm during their embrace. Their bonds, between each other and as a collective, needed to be strong for what lay ahead.
            “Rhaina speaks true,” Bergi said to Devin and Amrynn. “Thank you both for your unwindings, but only share what you feel meshes the whole. We all have some secret songs of our own and grace each other as our hearts demand.”
            The halfling took a swig of her ale and gave a few moments thought on how best to proceed. She looked around at the faces of her friends and saw fatigue and weariness and wonder and worry, but Bergi felt like they needed a bit of a shine to where they were headed before calling it a night.
            “We all tire,” she said, “I can hear my pillow screaming from here. But I’d hammer out some thought about where we go from here before tipping our cups for the night. For one, it would give a better sense of -what- we need to get tomorrow and -where-. Sheriff first thing, that’s no doubt and any may attend.”
            Bergi turned to Devin and said with a smile, “I’d say you fancy some armor? I’ve only seen freshly sheared sheep fidget more."
            Devin nodded with exaggerated caution, not quite certain if he abided the sheared sheep analogy, but took it for the good humor it was expressed in.
            "Good for you tomorrow is a market day, so the options are broader. Locally, Rovanky the tanner if you dance in leathers. Savah the armorer if you fancy the links. Or you could try an import.” She fished out a belt pouch from along her waist and tossed it to Devin. The clink of coinage signaled its arrival. “Whether you attend us in the morning or not, that pouch was Quickfoot’s, and the coin inside could afford you some leather. If you want heavier, we’ll need to haul that bell together.”
            Devin automatically caught the small pouch. Almost unnoticed, he subtly bounced it once in his hand under pretense of resettling his grip, acknowledged that the weight and practiced feel would suffice for a nominal suit of leather armor, and nodded. "I'll obtain what I can with this; no need to stretch on my account, though I thank you again for the offer."
            “Sheriff, armor and some general resupply, but what happens next heroes?” Bergi asked. “Do we try our hand at Thistletop again before word comes from Magnimar? Hit ‘em before they can regroup, and if so, howabouts? Or do we give our captives the once over again? Or maybe we just beat the grass for snakes?”
            "Lyrie and Orik," Devin spoke his most direct conclusions aloud. "And Bruthazmus, for that matter." "Lyric's the arcanist, Orik's the bugbear-shield-wielding human. Bruthazmus is a bugbear brute," Devin recapped for Amrynn. To the group, he continued, "They're off-balance, and they're down most of their goblin minions. They're weak, now; time they hide now only favors them. If they're what was really driving the Thistletop clan, then before they can drum up more goblins to fight for them, we should hit them again. If they regroup, Thistletop becomes a goblin fortification again."
            "The question is, why are they uniting these disparate tribes and how does this...Lamashtu worshipper tie into it? I agree with Devin, we need to press whatever advantage we have. We have seen their strengths and can better prepare, we have new forces that they have not seen. The question is, how to approach Thistletop once more? They will no doubt be watching the water now after our escape from that direction. I don't relish the thought of entering through the thistles once more but what other choices are left us?" Durriken said.
            "What preparation do you suggest, Durriken? Rhaina? Amrynn, what magicks can you offer? As for my own mind, I am wont to choose items that slow them down. Tanglefoot bags and fire, anything to force them into positions. Archery is not their strong point. I have far too many weapons--" the barbarian eyed his massive pile of gear "--and would be better attacking with something that can strike with reach. We can sell what we don't need--pare down, and be ready with smoke and bomb and fire." I'Daiin said. He grunted, doing a double take. "Was anyone prompting me for a story? I was busy thinking of killing goblins."
            Rhaina spoke “Ok as I see it we have a few tactical issues to mull over 1 How to get in? If we take the bridge as an option we know from experience;because we dropped it on them when we retreated that way,that they could have it appear to be fully attached and as soon as we walk on it,it could fall away The water route leads us to a climb which would be child’s play for them to watch But since we currently don’t know any other way in we need to decide which is the more acceptable risk
            2 How to deal with the Bugbears ranged advantage? Devin and I used Acid and Tanglefoot Bags to take away their bows.Would it work again or is there some other easily obtained item that would give us the same options in another way? Like Acid Flasks and Tanglefoot arrows,for example We learned from the battle that we can beat them at close range,so that’s the ideal tactic for us My needs are 1 or two Potions of Mage armour. Seeing if we than have enough for the restock of the Bags,Flasks and perhaps specialty arrows,but only AFTER we get Devin rearmoured
            I would love to be able to scout the ravine over which the bridge passes to see if there might be a way to climb there and give us a third way in,but as I’m not from around here I don’t know how practical that would be?
            We also learned two other important things from that fight 1 Lyrie does not like to be hurt,so we can take away their Arcanist much easier than we might ordinarily be able to by merely hitting her hard early
            2 The Goblins are not as loyal to Bruthazmus and Lyrie as they were to Ripnugget and that’s something we might be able to exploit in the right circumstance
            Bergi’s songs also seemed to really take the fight out of them,so morale for them is potentially another weakness
            Amrynn.We know that Bruthazmus hates Elves so you would be a likely target for his bow . Any magical protection we could get for you against his arrows would be a great precaution to take and perhaps also for Devin. I’ve seen walls of wind used before.Do any of our spellcasters have that? Bergi,We also need to see if anyone in town knows this Orik? During the fight there were 3 of us that suggested burning Thistletop .Is that a practical idea.? It would rob them of a base of operations but might provoke an attack on the town Rhaina paused and drained her second pitcher”Whew that’s a lot of talking”
            "If they can drop the rope bridge, then it all works out to climbing, either way. We don't number enough, and don't have enough archers, to set grapples to span the gap and defend the grapples while people cross. So the water seems the only viable approach. Goblins can see fairly well in the dark, so may as well make it a daytime approach. They're down in numbers, so may not be able to keep a strong watch against all directions; a rigged distraction from the landward side could pull their attention long enough to get a boat in. Or we just go for it, and deal with the chance they spot us and respond before we can land."
            "They favor bows; we should bring a couple of large shields with us, use them in the bow of the boat during our approach. Once we land, we adapt." Devin shrugged; if they met bow resistance in close quarters again, they wreck the bows again, if they can. "Both their prized bowmen have ruined bows at this point. They might scrounge something new, but nothing as good as what they had, hopefully."
            Rhaina's recounting of how Bruthazmus went out of his way to fall Quickfoot just on merit of race gave Devin serious pause. He hadn't considered that, or its implications for Amrynn joining them.
            He shook his head, not really wanting to think along those lines.
            "If you've got information sources here in town; willing or otherwise; then yes, we need to ask about Orik and Lyrie, see if they're known, or if this is the first time they've come up on scene." "I still favor torching that place, but at best, we'd have to set and nurse a bonfire within its walls to get a big enough blaze going to cause the roof to come in and the walls to ignite. Not practical."
            Amrynn heart surged within her chest. 'Amrynn. We know that Bruthazmus hates Elves so you would be a likely target for his bow.' Rhaina's words were blunt, to the point. She was not naive, she knew perfectly well that the idyllic notion of crossing swords with a foe or engaging in a duel of arcane powers ended when one lay dead at the feet of the other. Almost every time. Death. A spirit set free. The end of the mortal coil laid bare upon the cold hard ground.
            She inclined her head, disguising the moment of anxious doubt that flashed though her eyes. She trusted herself to speak.
            “The power that runs through my veins manifests itself in many and varied ways, Rhaina. Sometimes it protects me from pain and suffering. Sometimes it inflicts pain upon another." Her brow knitted briefly as she uttered the words, before clearing. "Sometimes, as my little friend upon my palm evidenced earlier, it can be used simply as an extension of playful humour. Or even to change the nature of the environment about us.”
            “I think Bruthazmus might find this elf a surprisingly difficult nut to crack.” She hoped she looked in equal measure as confident in her assertion as inside she felt that she was not.
            Bergi listened to the banter around the table, the talk of battle and barriers. She shivered at the thought of navigating the nettles again and agreed with Devin’s notion that whatever path they chose, there would be some climbing involved.
            “Seems like most of the gear will get another run,” she said. “I can’t imagine we’d be able to lure anyone salty enough from behind the walls. A distraction would be nice, but I don’t think we can swing one. Unless that boxed beast is still at hand. So we go in and get them. Simple enough. Tomorrow, some early shopping and then we meet at the jollyboat between nine and ten bells?”
            Devin considered carefully; his initial impulse had been to favor a day or two in Sandpoint, recover, get his mind about things. He'd started this day a beaten prisoner of the goblins; things were happening quickly. But that thought alone then settled it for him. The window of opportunity was narrow, and it would close. The party had resupplied, reequipped, and regrouped. He was certain the goblins would rally back at Thistletop, given enough time -- time which Devin intended to deny.
            Grimly, he nodded agreement to Bergi's suggestion.
            Bergi then fell silent. She had been mulling the possibilities around party funds and had been trying to come up with a better solution. She thought she had one, but she didn’t know which tasted worse in her mouth, asking for charity or what she had come up with.
            “I have to say it,” Bergi said with a sigh. “There’s too much at risk not to overturn every stone. Before I call Ameiko over to ask about Orik and Lyrie and selling our goods, I want to know what you all think about selling Quickfoot’s weapons, as a set…maybe to a collector…or at an auction.”
            Bergi held up a hand and said, “I’ll talk it first so you know plain where I stand. It tastes bad in my mouth it does. Like it’s cheapening Quickfoot’s loss. But so does squeezing these good people who have already given heartily. Yes we’re protecting them, but we have armor, and magic, and supplies and coin most of these people only dream of.”
            “Selling the weapons as ‘once belonging to a hero of Sandpoint’ might serve everyone,” she continued. “The town provides us the means and Quickfoot’s story lives on stronger. He becomes more a part of Sandpoint and helps us carry the fight forward.”
            “Oh bogwaddles, I’m not sure what to do,” she said. “Might be better just to sell this bloody cloak off of my shoulders. It’s stinky enough and that would probably set us right for awhile.”
            "I don't know what Quickfoot favored, but as the Dragon is sheltering us, and there's family, we could do worse than gift the rapier to Ameiko, to display here."
            “I hear what it is that you say, Devin, Bergi.” She spoke, creating a small pause in the flow of words that she might assuage their fears and doubts and provide them with confidence to make the decision that so tugged at their consciences.
            “Quickfoot has passed,” she started. “And that is a tragedy almost beyond bearing, particularly for yourselves,” and she inclined her head to the companions who had known him best; Rhaina; I'Daiin; Bergi, though not intending to exclude the rest of the Heroes. “But know this. Quickfoot is still with us, though not in any form that we can see. His spirit, and I pray to -all- the Gods that the elven priests can assemble it sufficiently to allow him the right and the pleasure to move from this plane to Arvanaith, as he and his family would want and expect him to do, has traveled from his material body. Gone. Disappeared, Left us to move to the next grander step of his whole existence.”
            “His body will be burned, as is the custom and the way of the elves. And that is the right thing to do. But know this,” and she looked about the group. “His body is just a husk, an empty shell; Quickfoot, his spirit, the -essence- of him, will no longer reside within it. There is nothing here on this plane that ties him to to this place, not his body, not his friends, and certainly no material possessions he once called his own. For the elves, once the spirit leaves, what it abandons after death of a material nature is a matter for those who remain behind; it is no longer of any consequence to them.”
            “They pass to the next worthy possessor. And as your words and stories, and actions, have demonstrated so clearly to me, you are worthy beneficiaries of those things, for that is all they are, that once belonged, but no longer do, to Quickfoot, Hero of Sandpoint.”
            “And if the decision is to sell them, so that the proceeds of such a deal may allow his friends to continue the struggle that he stood beside you in, then should he be looking back at us from Arvanaith, then he would surely smile at the nobleness of the act.” She was not sure whether this helped or hindered them in their decision; she fervently hoped the former.
            Bergi was heartened by the affirmations of their newest comrades, both toward the need to strike Thistletop sooner and at seeking funding via Quickfoot’s armaments. Her eyes flicked across Rhaina, I’Daiin and Durriken, trying to sense if they disliked the notion. She didn’t feel any offense ebbing from them, but objection could manifest in many ways. “Well, we’ll need to chew the sheriff’s ear tomorrow morning about Yuga and Ripnugget if nothing else,” she said. “Maybe he’ll have other options or a tower shield or two we can borrow.”
            Bergi caught Ameiko’s eye when she could, passing a subtle request for conversation at the innkeeper’s discretion. When Ameiko made her way over, Bergi said, “Thank you for the privacy and hospitality, my friend. The Rusty Dragon is a wonder under your care.”
            "You know you're always welcome, Bergi," Ameiko answered with a small, but heartfelt smile. She raised her gaze to include everyone in the party, her eyes resting perhaps a moment longer on Rhaina. "You all are. Saving Sandpoint from goblins and demon-possessed clockwork and whatnot has more than earned you a place here." There was a tinge of amusement to her tone when she mentioned the demon clockwork; she wasn't as credulous as many others among the townsfolk. But her eyes were serious enough as she stated their welcome.
            Mention of demon-possessed clockwork... hrmm... fortuitous Bergi had opted to retain the cold-iron dagger, Devin considered. Retaining the silver dagger, even goblin-make as it was, and the silvered arrows, might suddenly be prudent, if that's the type of force the goblins were in league with. He resolved to ask about the dagger's history before the evening was over.
            “There’s two bits I’d hash out, if it do ya’,” Bergi continued. “First, we tangled with two humans working with the goblins at Thistletop. Do the names Orik or Lyrie mean anything to you? The first is a rugged mercenary type, and the second a darker complected woman spell caster. Or anyone in town who you think might know something?”
            "I've never seen them," Ameiko mused, her gaze growing distant as she thought over the many hundreds of faces her memory could supply as owner of the most popular inn in Sandpoint. "I hate to say it, but if anyone might know people who would work for goblins, you might find them at the Fatman's Feedbag." The corners of her mouth turned downwards in a moue of distaste, though whether it was for the idea of working for goblins, or for the clientele of the Feedbag, was unclear.
            Though not familiar with the Feedbag, Devin had to swallow piqued amusement at Ameiko's reaction at saying its name. Seedy, he understood; people kept to themselves. Still, working a crowd like that for information wasn't Devin's strong point, and with no contact, and no reason to set foot past its threshold, Devin couldn't warrant volunteering to further investigate the venue.
            “Second, we’d like to offer up Quickfoot’s weapons to commemorate his sacrifice to Sandpoint.” Bergi paused to swallow thickly. “If you fancy his rapier on your wall, you’re welcome to it. He slew Gogmurt the nettlemaze menace with it. The others, a silver dagger, a mace and some arrows we thought we might sell to a collector, or at auction. Whichever you think best.”
            Ameiko knelt by Bergi's chair and gathered the halfling into an embrace. "Oh, Bergi. I know how hard his loss must have hit you." Pulling back, she nodded. "I'd be glad to honor his memory by hanging his rapier here. As for his other things, leave them with me, and I'll see if I can't find a good price for them somewhere in town by noon tomorrow. That should give you some time to visit your parents, too. I'm sure they've heard all kinds of crazy rumors by now."
            When she left the table, Ameiko took with her Quickfoot's rapier. The very first thing she did was to hang it in pride of place over the barrels behind the bar.
            With that, Bergi looked around the table if anyone had other thoughts to offer.
            Devin voiced the questions he'd been withholding, "Demon-possessed clockwork.. colorful exaggeration, or accurate? For what you've all encountered recently... is that why Quickfoot carried that tiny cold iron dagger, and that silver dagger, and the silver arrows? Are we going to need to keep those?"
            Rhaina listened to the conversations with interest hearing a more assertive tone from Bergi, but she liked it so she let the talk reach the point where Rhaina felt she should speak “As much as I think we should get back to Thistletop quickly we would need to leave at Dawn if we are to reach there with enough time to explore and not be fighting them in the dark”
            Rhaina paused for a moment to let that sink in. “If we spend tomorrow getting all the errands and conversations with the Mayor and the Sheriff out of the way we could be certain that we had everything covered. We would then be in great shape to leave at dawn on the day after tomorrow. Besides I think Devin might need a day to recover from being a captive and we might have to wait for some of the things we need to be made ready.”
            Devin didn't protest the characterization; he had to admit Rhaina may be correct. He was exhausted, and had been gambling he could find appropriate armor very quickly in the morning, but more, that he'd be steady on his feet and mostly recovered for the foray. "One day; no more," he conceded.
            “Now if we have time during the afternoon tomorrow we could take a quick run through the nettles and take a look at the Fort to see if we can note any activity. That would also give our newest members a chance to become familiar with the alternate way in and out.” Rhaina said. And as to the money problem I am more than willing to give my word as a Paladin that we would give every effort to repay any monies that we find ourselves needing. I think asking Ameiko to take the Rapier is an excellent idea Bergi and we can see how much could be raised from your auction suggestion before I need to ask for any loans.”
            Bergi thought about Rhaina’s words for a time, nodding along all the while as the paladin spoke. The halfling had overlooked Devin’s plight, his mistreatment, and she hadn’t considered at all the efforts put forth by those who had rowed the jollyboat. She hadn’t been much help there, and if they returned to Thistletop too soon, fatigue, not goblins, might be their undoing.
            “No, you’re right, Rhaina,” Bergi said. “There’s much we need to do here in Sandpoint. Rest foremost among them. Talking to the officials, getting proper gear, riding the auction through, asking around at the Fatman, seeing my folks. I’m always getting ahead of myself, singing the song before I learn the lyrics. Best we be prepared and ready, instead of rushing off. I can see the good of showing Devin and Amrynn through the nettlemaze too, if there’s time.”
            Bergi rested a hand on Rhaina’s arm and offered her a warm smile of thanks.
            Devin posed, needing some context to place the information within, "The nettlemaze; that's the brush warding the land approach to Thistletop?" At receiving confirmation, Devin also nodded, "Tomorrow, yes. It'll be helpful to know all you do about that place and its surrounds."
            Bergi then skipped from the table and followed after Ameiko, speaking to the Dragon’s owner, who motioned toward the small stage with open abandon. Bergi walked over to the raised platform and paused to summon an unusual looking instrument, something of a cross between a staff and a sling, with strings running the length of it. She plucked the strings into tune and gathered her wits as she beamed a smile out onto the crowd of the Rusty Dragon.
            “My name’s Bergi, and most of you know me,” she started, “and the hearty souls I walk beside, defending the people of Sandpoint.” She smiled at the smattered applause and encouragement that issued forth. “I’m up here tonight to share a ditty with you before we tuck in, a bit that touched me here,” she tapped her chest, “and left a mark upon my heart. And I do so, to honor not only the memory of Quickfoot, but for the two newest comrades to join with us and take up arms against the darkness."
            No. Devin shrank, his chest clenching at anticipating how Bergi may next call attention. This was too much attention, far too soon. He tried to catch Bergi's gaze and tightly shake his head, his expression furtive, struck.
            "Show some appreciation for these new heroes of Sandpoint and make some noise for my friends, Devin and Amrynn!” Bergi pointed and waved at the elven-blooded pair, expecting them to be uncomfortable, encouraging it even, but by the stars she meant for them to be known and accepted within the ranks of those shedding blood for her town.
            Devin's expression firmed, with some skill and more effort feigning neutrality and casual humility. Turned in his chair, he upraised one palm, fingers spread, and gave a single wave and a tight smile that betrayed exhaustion and discomfort with the recognition. He waited, posed, long enough to be politely appreciative of the attention, but not long enough to encourage extending its duration.
            It was not unlike being down upon a knee in the middle of a dirt street, alone in the center of a crowd of strangers roiled into a mob mentality, and spitting out the blood from a split lip and forcing back to his feet -- play to the group, prompt uncertain pause from the opponent, muster and display nonchalance and strength. There was no malice in Bergi's crowdsmanship, no anger or bloodlust within the crowd of the Dragon, and yet being near any such focus of attention felt threatening, uncontrolled, vulnerable. He became acutely aware of the exits to the room.
            After a time, the halfling waved her arms down to settle the cheering of the raucous crowd. “You honor your kin and your ancestors,” she said by way of compliment. “This song I learned on a trip to Magnimar from a wild spirit of an adventurer. Diddlebert Lindentree was his name, and he played the hoopak like no other. It’s called, Triolet of First Light, and I hope it touches you as it did me. Think of it on the dawn, as we gear up to take the fight to Thistledown.”
            "As much as I'd like to stay for Bergi's skill at the strings, I'm exhausted," Devin apologized to Amrynn, and to the party. "I'm intact, clean, clothed, fed, welcome in sound company, and I've a room here. Been a good day. I feel... safe." It was true.
            He wasn't certain how long Bergi would perform for the evening, but felt the need to be away from the common room and the real or imagined attention of the patrons. "Pass my affections on to Bergi?" he asked of the party.
            The elf woman was caught. She longed to hear more of the melodies that Bergi could conjure from her instrument and her voice, together and separately. And the camaraderie of the rest of the Heroes was warming the blood in her veins; the companionable air within the Dragon was infectious, wrapping her within its comfortable ambiance. She felt included; belonging; secure.
            Yet she also feel the tug of Devin's decision to depart. There was much to talk about. Between he and her. So much time had passed beneath the bridge since last they had stood upon it together. Yes, they had found each other once more. Yes, they would have time to talk together. Yet she could not say when they would be alone. An image of Quickfoot rose unbidden in her mind. The ultimate sacrifice made. The end of days for him upon this mortal world. What if that were to happen to either Devin or she, at the hands of those they had agreed to confront alongside the Heroes. What time would they have to talk then? Such a matter didn't bear thinking about.
            Her choice, for the moment, was made.
            Rhaina sat and listened quietly to the conversation her face brightening when Ameiko looked up at her. Nodding to Devin as he got up to leave she looked at Amrynn”Lady,a room would be made available for you,by Ameiko,I’m sure if you wish privacy or you could share with Bergi and I. In either event I would expect that you and Devin have much to catch up on and ,she paused reaching to touch the back of the Elf’s hand We will not be expecting to get together again until tomorrow for breakfast should you wish to go talk,tonight”
            Amrynn glanced at the touch of Rhaina's hand upon her own, and smiled. Rhaina was a woman. She knew. “My time at the abbey taught me the value of sharing quarters with folk of a like mind. If there is berth enough for me to share with yourself and Bergi, I shall gladly accept.” Truth was she also had not yet arranged for accommodations of her own; this solved an immediate need.
            Rising, she took her leave of the group. She tried to catch Bergi's eye; the bard was caught up in her world of song and story; she failed to make a connection. Amrynn understood. “Pass on my own tidings to Bergi,” she uttered as a farewell. “Till later, my friends.” She swept from the room, her destination that which similarly called to Devin.
            Rhaina got up and went to sit near the stage and Bergi could see from her perspective that Rhaina’s eye never failed to follow Ameiko whenever she passed near
            Bergi plucked the strings and found her melody, and finally broke into verse, with an odd, stilted dialect and a somber rhythm.
“Twitter me ditty 'n pass te cheese
Te company's up at dawn
A song of awakening if yeow please
Twitter me ditty 'n pass te cheese
For hunger doth follow te sleeper's disease
What terminates thus with a yawn
Twitter me ditty 'n pass te cheese
Te company's up at dawn
Two young, star-crossed lovers parted ways
Adt so started this venturous tale
Hiding in Rorche's Reach for several days
Adt so started this venturous tale
Yet ere when te Raven did Crest in te haze
Of betrothal's tumultuous gale
Two young, star-crossed lovers parted ways
Adt so started this venturous tale
We who hoist ourselves by our petard
(An old cliché ever in vogue)
Was with whom she found eyerself traveling hard
We who hoist ourselves by our petard
A fae-blooded swordsman, a scholar, a bard
A plainsrunner gnoll adt a rogue
We who hoist ourselves by our petard
An old cliché ever in vogue
A finer collection of stout-hearted folks
Has never assembled as this
'Til te travelers saw through te bonfire's smokes
A finer collection of stout-hearted folks
Daevin adt Mullen adt Fain with his hoax
(Scarred not by a sword but a sharp Little Kris)
A finer collection of stout-hearted folks
Has never assembled as this
Here we all sit in fellowship's breasts
Keenly awaiting te cheese
Twittering ditties with serious jests
Here we all sit in fellowship's breasts
Adt ere we all part on our separate quests
You on yours, we for our absentees
Here we all sit in fellowship's breasts
Keenly awaiting te cheese.
            Bergi finished the performance with a series of bows and then darted off to offer a hug to both Devin and Amrynn, before all of the company filtered away to find their beds for the evening.
            When the Bard left the stage,noting that Devin(and perhaps Amrynn) had departed,she was waved over by the Paladin who had a drink waiting for the Halfling. Bergi could see that the Shoanti was looking quite pensive,her Silver hair almost bristling around her face,but it settled when Bergi sat Rhaina brushed it back irritably “Our Tribal Shaman swore I was blessed.To be a member of the WInd Clan and always have the “Wind in your hair is a sign of the true blessing of the Spirits”She quoted in a teaching tone of voice Her normal smile returned I guess he never thought about what it would be like to never be able to keep your hair neat.” Do you know the Tribe forbade me to cut it,Bergi.? They said it would offend the Tribe’s Totem so that’s why they called me Silverhair,on account I was the only warrior WITH hair.....Hmmmph I’m sorry I didn’t agree with your idea of going tomorrow,but I wasn’t willing to go off half-prepared and take the chance of losing anyone else Besides that ,Bergi;we almost died there and I think we all need an extra night’s sleep to get our bearings back.
            Her eye wandered away from the Halfling and settled as Bergi expected, on the slim figure of the Innkeeper”She is so beautiful. Rhaina took a drink,blushing when she felt her friend’s eye on her “It is our way;the Shoanti way;to speak plainly and then let the Spirit’s,or in my case the Goddess sort things out” She leaned in closer to Bergi,her voice dropping lower”Told her that I loved her Bergi.That I had from the moment I laid eyes on her. I believe she is part of the reason Saranrae sent me here,but I think I’ve scared her .She’ll look at me but won’t talk to me....*sigh* “Well enough moping.I have prayers.I need to make amends for Ripnugget’s pain.
            She stood “Heading to the Temple for a while.I offered Amrynn a bed in our room.Not sure if she’ll take it. Don’t wait up for me ;we’ll head over to talk to the Sheriff and Mayor in the morning” And she leaves

38


            When they arrived at the garrison the next morning, they caught Sheriff Hemlock filling out paperwork in his cramped office. He immediately set it aside when he saw them, saying, "You've come to brief me on what happened at Thistletop? Good. Mayor Deverin will want to hear this as well. Let's go."
            He led the party across Main Street to the town hall, where after a short wait, they were admitted to the Mayor's office (which seemed spacious after seeing the cubbyhole Hemlock worked in), passing a group of merchants who looked at the party curiously as they left.
            The Mayor stood and bade them welcome. "Please, sit." The Sheriff remained standing, arms crossed, as those inclined to sit took their seats. If you didn't know him, you could be forgiven for thinking that he was frowning at the party; in truth, it was merely his normal grim expression.
            Sitting down again, Mayor Deverin leaned forward on her desk, hands clasped. Her keen eyes roved from one party member to the next, looking for who would speak.
            "First of all, let me tell you again how profoundly sorry I am to hear of Quickfoot's death. He will be remembered in town for many years to come as one of the Heros who saved us from the goblin menace - among many other things." She took a deep breath. "That brings me to speak of Thistletop. Is the threat removed? Is Sandpoint safe?"
            “Lady Mayor,Sherriff.I am Rhaina,called Silverhair and as you may know I am a Paladin of Saranrae. I was sent to Sandpoint by command of my Goddess.I was trailing the caravan that was recently attacked by the Goblins. I had spoken to the caravan master who was concerned about something that seemed to be following them. As such when the attack came I was too late to prevent it ,though I did manage to dispatch a few of the goblins who remained to loot.I trailed the raiders and met up with the party;joining them on the raid which took the Bird-crunchers captive. Our latest sortie into Thistletop started well enough and resulted in the death of some of the goblins as well as their Chief,known as Ripnugget.
            A grim look crosses her face as she continues ”We were then confronted by a Bugbear;known to the goblins as Bruthazmus. We had shut ourselves up in Ripnugget’s hall to heal and make plans when a man later identified as Orik offered us a chance to surrender. Others then came led by an Arcanist called Lyrie” Are either of those two names known to you?
            Mayor Deverin shook her head slowly after having considered for a moment. "They aren't citizens of Sandpoint, or traders that I know of. Sheriff?"
            Sheriff Hemlock only shook his head curtly. They hadn't crossed paths with him, either.
            “The fight got bitter then,but with some clever tactics suggested by Devin,here whom we had rescued from Ripnugget, we won free when they were wounded and retreated” Rhaina looks at both of them before continuing
            “As to your question about Sandpoint being safe;I fear that while the goblins are for the moment diminished in numbers and now bereft of their leader,they fear Bruthazmus and remain part of that which menaces the town. Also ,Sheriff if I were those enemies I would see the Bird-crunchers as a temptation to bolster their numbers.What is planned for them?
            "We have two choices - send them to Magnimar for trial, or execute them here. There are more than a few citizens calling for the latter." The Sheriff shook his head; he looked almost as tired as the Mayor. "I can't say that they're wrong to want it. Those monsters attacked our town, killed our people, and from what you've said, they were gathering to come back in greater numbers. Executing them would serve as both justice and precaution, and spare us the cost of transporting them to the city for the same result. Besides which, we can't spare anyone to take them while the town is under threat. That's why Tsuto is still here, too." It was the longest speech they had heard the gruff man make.
            Lady Mayor,we are committed to the protection of Sandpoint and now bolstered by Devin and the Elven Lady Amrynn, we intend another foray into Thistletop tomorrow. ...I hesitate to mention this ;but in fairness, while we have some plans to auction some of Quickfoot’s gear to raise funds,we do have some need of monies to replenish items and armour used,lost or damaged. Mayor Deverin;we are not mercenaries,but while some of us are embarrassed to ask for the assistance, I for one, am loathe to go back with less than minimium preparations,lest we succumb to the enemy and leave Sandpoint in even greater danger.
            I'Daiin pursed his lips and considered quietly their situation. Bergi is right, he mused to himself, we need the rest. Each time we foray out we discover new, ill-considered dangers. No one has even spoken of the Sandpoint Devil for some time. We don't know where Tsuto's harlot is...this is like playing khiad in a dark cave with half of one's pieces lost in the mud.
            He frowned at Rhaina's speech and spoke when she was finished. "No. Sandpoint is not safe. Your enemies are many, and they will be prepared for us. We need to maximize our assault. We need every advantage, and we cannot leave until we are absolutely prepared for the major opponents. A bugbear of great strength. An arcanist." He nearly spat the word. "And some other man leading them." He looked at the Sheriff and the Mayor, and the heroes in turn. "Magickers need to hear when they speak their spells; we can deafen them with thunderstones. Not at the wrong time, Bergi; we still need your songs. Archers cannot see us if we hide in smoke. And as for the bugbear---" I'Daiin narrowed his eyes. "Get him between Rhaina and me. We can pulverize him from two directions."
            The Mayor nodded grimly. "Our town isn't rich, but I'll give you what we can spare. I only hope that it's enough." She rose and went to the door, opening it to speak quietly with the clerk outside. Then she closed it again and returned to her desk, though she didn't sit, but leaned palms flat against it as she regarded the party.
            "Alyen will have three hundred gold coins for you when you go. I heard of the alliance of merchants that Ven Vinder has gathered for you - I hope that together with these funds, you may find all that you need. The bugbear, Bruthazmus - this is one of the goblin heros Shalelu Andosana told us about?" Her eyes were worried as she continued, "Who knows how many goblins he might attract to their cause? I pray that fate puts him between you Shoanti as soon as possible."
            Rhaina grinned at I’Daiin’s intensity “Kia huihui tatou tumuaki” she growled low in his direction - "Until our Skulls are Gathered"
            Rhaina rose and offered her hand to Mayor Deverin “You have my pledge,we will return what is unspent back to you before we leave and what we do use will; if the gods permit ,we will repay all of the town’s generosity”
            Rhaina hefted the gold securely into her pack and turned back to the duo”What has become of the bodies from the Caravan that was attacked.? Do you need us to go out and take care of that task? Perhaps we also need to talk to Shalelu Andosana about the names we heard. Would there be any other source of such knowledge here in Sandpoint? “Once we get provisioned we should plan our trip into the Nettles”

39


            The party was able to haggle a bit with the merchants that had arrived for Market Day, and received a favorable price on the items they wanted. As promised, at noon Ameiko arrived back at the Rusty Dragon with a small purse of coins for them. "Not as much as I'd hoped, but hopefully enough to tide you by," she said, passing the pouch to Bergi.
            Market was always a frenzy, and Bergi found it difficult not to get carried away, on the sights, the smells, the wonderful music of life. The others helped to keep her focused. They also carried a great deal of the load. She was grateful for that. There was only so much her tiny frame could manage. Whatever hadn’t been distributed was sequestered in their room, and she had found some mica in Quickfoot’s components. She smiled at his memory, and then her eyes fell upon the unholy book of beasts lying nearby. She had wanted to ask Amrynn if she knew the language, but there had been no time. She scooped it up and took it down to lunch with her.
            Lunch at the Dragon reconstituted them with its usual wondrous flair. She thanked Ameiko for her efforts, and then watched as the proprietress and Rhaina shared another glance before Ameiko returned to her burgeoning lunch crowd. The party’s time here would be short, their meal swift. They needed to make a sweep of the nettle maze while the daylight held, to insure the goblins weren’t stirring up trouble for Sandpoint and to give the lay of the land to Amrynn and Devin.
            Bergi had told her parents much the same last evening. She had consoled them about her safety, promising to be as careful as she could. The protection of Sandpoint was paramount however, bigger than any one Kauflebaum. She chose to bunk with Rhaina and Amrynn, despite her mother’s protests, but Bergi said she would join them for dinner tomorrow if she could. No promises were made, but hugs and kisses were given all around.
            Now, as lunch came to an end, Bergi hefted the beast book up onto the table between Amrynn and Devin. She said, “We found this in the catacombs below town. Before we head out, can either of you make anything of it?”
            Rhaina felt slightly on edge.Ameiko still had not shared even a word with her and even the Paladin’s normal optimism was challenged She mused silently“Focus Rhaina,time for that after we return from our next visit Rhaina chose instead to take note of the book Bergi brought out. She did not know why,but it made her slightly uneasy,so she reached out and allowed her fingers to lightly brush the cover,and attempted to see if the book contained evil “What is it Bergi?”
            Devin accepted the book, pivoted it to orient, and cracked it open with a certain mixed degree of caution, curiosity, and respect in handling that extended to all tomes in general. He left it resting upon the table between himself and Amrynn as he reviewed the first few pages, turning them carefully. Devin considered himself of stout material, but even after seeing the first few woodcut prints, he shuddered briefly despite himself.
            Amrynn looked at the book, bunching across closer to Devin to get a superior view at the page’s contents. Vile tome notwithstanding, Amrynn's familiar-but-practical shift closer prompted a glance and a flickered smile from Devin. He turned his attention back to the book.
            Amrynn could hardly repress a shudder as she perused the graphic images. They were beastly creatures indeed, cavorting and killing, enjoying each of their occasions to do so. Lovingly created by woodcut and hand-drawn illustration, it was this same intimate attention to their detail given them by their creator that infused each with a less tangible yet no lesser horror.
            “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I recognise neither the author nor the material. Nor the language in which it is writ.” She shiver of her shoulders echoed Devin’s. “An altogether horrid tome,” she declared, pushing it away an inch or two, the movement a statement; distaste.
            “It’s an unholy book of beasts,” Bergi said in matter of fact tones. “We found it roundabout the time we realized the Mother of Monsters was in play. I was just hoping some of the newer eyeballs present might shed some light on it.” She slammed the book closed and lifted it down to the bench next to her. “Might be important. Might not. Sorry to sour you with it. I’ll tuck it away for now, and maybe we’ll find a scroll or other means to read what it says down the road.”
            Devin nodded absently, acknowledging, but still reviewing the book. While it was clear he didn't have an intrinsic understanding of the language used, his eyes and approach were apparently practiced in noticing patterns in language and inferring meaning and content. At length, he shook his head, "With time, maybe." He pushed the book back towards Bergi. "I think you're right of its nature, though," Devin nodded, indicatively tapping with one fingertip the prominent symbol of Lamashtu even in the first page's text.
            After the book had been examined and the meal completed,Rhaina turned to the companions who had been in the nettles before “So my friends do we backtrack over the route we took when we brought the Bird-crunchers here,or is there another route that would serve better? We just need to find a spot that gives us a view of the fort,and I fear that might have to be the bridge,where we could come under observation from the towers. Amrynn,Devin;you should know that some of the route may require that we crawl through Goblin tunnels and they are not the cleanest of places to be”.She looked at Amrynn’s fine clothing as she added the last comment.
            “Fear not, Rhaina,” Amrynn replied. “I shall be prepared for such a journey; these are not the only clothes I own. Besides,” she said, brushing at an invisible mark upon a sleeve and giving the silver-haired maiden a small smile. “They are not really as fine as they may appear.”
            “Also we will need to figure out which of us would be best to be in the front as we go through I can fight without weapons,but my height is a disadvantage there” Rhaina said.
            "Goblins tunnels -- under Sandpoint? Or in the briars?" Devin wasn't quite following what the intended route was, or what the options were. "You said yesterday there were two approaches -- by path, through the thicket, or by sea -- and that we should learn the thicket, just in case. From the top of the keep wall, I saw the rope bridge to the shore, and the thorny hedge at the shore -- that's the thicket, right? Let's just stock up on oil, go overland, and blaze the thicket. Remove the cover. If the rope bridge burns, well, that can't be helped, but the more we can cripple the keep, the better."
            As the conversation moved toward the goblin threat once more, Bergi turned toward Devin as he suggested immolating the nettles. She was shaking her head all the while.
            “I thought you’d say as much,” she said. “But I don’t think those nettles would catch any easier than Thistledown. They’re lively and ornery that way. Green and lush, lots of moisture. Plus, fire is nobody’s friend. Just ‘cause the goblins fancy them for their size, doesn’t mean there aren’t a lot of beneficial critters living in those thickets. And once a fire that size gets going, there’s no way to stop it if the wind blows foul. Too much risk as I see it.”
            She sighed in thought, but continued on, “As for the tunnels, Rhaina was talking about game trails and pathways in the nettles. Tight and narrow with walls thicker than an ogre’s armpit covered in needles like teeth. They seem like tunnels once your inside, and the goblins love them. The tunnels under Sandpoint are the old kind. Long and lost, fickle and forgotten, winding and wicked. With the help of some of the local color, Tsuto and the like, the goblins used them as suited their needs. Can’t say as I fancy walking them again any time soon.”
            She smiled, “And speaking of walking, I’m not going to be the one dancing at the front of the line. Someone else can have that honor. I’ll be cheering you on from the back row.”
            Devin nodded, no aversion to taking point or maneuvering to get the drop on a foe. "If the briar is that thick, it'll conceal our approach even as we have to wend our way through it. Fine. Though it sounds that the goblins can move through them faster than we can, and probably know all the routes to flank us. You offered to share the learned map of them," Devin nodded to Rhaina, "it'll be good to know the twists and turns before we're in them."
            The barbarian had been listening quietly to the discussion on how to approach Thistletop for yet another assault. He shifted his weight and spoke in his clear, low voice. "Goblins are not the brightest, but there are humans among them. They'll be watching the sea, is my reckoning. The nettles will be less dangerous without that little blighter of a goblin druid and his cat. Maybe."
            He nodded at Bergi. "If I never visit the tunnels under Sandpoint, it will be too soon. They should be filled with sea water."

40


            The party set off north and east, along the Lost Coast Road, at a leisurely pace to accommodate Bergi's short legs (and relatively heavy pack). They passed the Ravenroost Hills with high spirits, and ventured between Shank's Wood and the Tickwood, where Lord Foxglove had taken some of them hunting, without incident. Their mood became more subdued, however, as they passed the Pauper's Graves, and beyond them, approached the Nettlewood. Here they had encountered a legend of ill omen; had the Sandpoint Devil foreseen Quickfoot's fate, or even decided it?
            Amrynn settled comfortably into the group as they made their way out of Sandpoint. She naturally took step next to Devin as they departed, yet found herself drifting from one group member to the other as they made their way along the coast road. She made small talk, passing the journey by building bridges with her new-found friends and companions.
            Despite the nature of their task and the shadowed nature of their expedition, the young elf woman could not help but feel a comforting warmth spreading within her as she shared the trail with these folk of good soul and heart.
            For nights and days aplenty she had travelled alone; to share the road with another, let alone a group of souls as good and true as these, she understood to be a rare privilege. She acknowledged and welcomed every second of it.
            They crossed the bridge over the Thistle River three hours after leaving Sandpoint, soon reaching the burnt-out wreckage of the caravan Rhaina and Devin had been attached to. The wrecked wagons had been pushed to the side of the road, perhaps by travelers. There were no human bodies to be seen, though a few stripped goblins lay here and there, testament to the fury that Rhaina had shown in the caravan's defense.
            Devin's gait had become a bit more resigned and somber at realizing they'd reached the site of the caravan wreckage. He surveyed it from a passing distance, no desire to step closer to the wreckage that had been pushed aside, and already surely gone through. The lack of bodies besides goblin suggested those that had needed tending or rites had received them, but Devin wondered over the health of leaving decaying goblin corpses alongside a primary tradeway. No matter for the moment. His eyes went back ahead in their direction of travel as if leaving the caravan to its own past.
            The Paladin stopped at the site of the caravan.s massacre and spent a few minutes kneeling in prayer for the souls lost that terrible day "Rest in peace,and know that all will be done to prevent this from ever happening again"
            The words were clear,but weren't said for the benefit of the living and after her prayers were completed she moved on without further comment
            Death was not new to Amrynn. She was elven; in her realm life was long and death infrequent. Yet she had seen it and her father had ensured she was educated in its reality. And it was a different sense of mortality she had been exposed to during her time at the abbey. One that was regular, controlled, slow, manageable. Peaceful. And she had thought herself educated in its nature and its process. Not inured, most certainly familiar. But the echoes of violence she witnessed in the stiff goblin corpses struck her by surprise. She averted her eyes from their grisly supine poses upon the hard ground. She took a step next to Devin; his presence reassurance as she turned her back upon the terrible sight, her steps not as light as they had minutes and a handful of heartbeats before.
            Turning north, they left the road and ventured into the wild and dark Nettlewood, nowhere near as pleasant and airy as the Tickwood had been. Devin had vague recollections of being dragged half-conscious by laughing goblins through patches of the ubiquitous stinging nettles that the forest was named for. Even without the deliberate mistreatment, and having blazed a trail through the tangled woods, the party found themselves stung and scratched by thorns and burrs plenty of times before reaching the massive thicket of thorns that marked the goblin hideout.
            Even knowing it was there, it took a bit of searching to locate the false wall of thistles that opened into the cramped maze. Piled in the tunnels near the opening, a number of goblin bodies stared sightlessly into the air, jaws slack. They all had greivous wounds that did not bleed. Flies buzzed around them, and the smell of death was thick in the air.
            Not particularly squeamish, Devin brought moment's autonomous recoil of repulsion under control and steeled himself versus the smell. He stepped back from the false wall of offensive brush and marked it to memory well, noting landmarks such as there were and the play of the foliage and paths -- and such as there were -- about it. Satisfied, he stood silently, eyes going from Rhaina to Bergi to I'Daiin to Durriken in no particular order, inquiring without words who would be comfortable acting as impromptu tour guide for him and Amrynn through this maze. Devin prepared to follow immediately after the point person; he would be best near the fore.
            If Amrynn had thought the caravan a horrid exposition of death and destruction, what she witnessed now took her breath away. That is to say, the sight -and- the smell took her breath from her lungs and deposited a gag in her throat. She gasped, coughed and buried her nostrils in the sleeve of her garment. Keenly aware that she was as likely being judged by her companions as she was being welcomed into their fold, she, with a great effort, brought herself under control, steeling herself against the sight and smell of the murdered goblins. Mercifully Rhaina spoke, providing her with a twig to clutch for; pulling her attention from the appalling vision before her. Dimly she felt herself envious of the other's ability to block the chill of murderous death from their minds and direct their entire attention upon the matter that was most important.
            When the group reached the tunnel Rhaina paused,considering the group and after very brief thought she turned and spoke quietly "Beyond this first tunnel I remember a spot where we could stand.We should strive to reach that as quickly as we can,for we are at considerable disadvantage until then Either I'Daiin or myself at the fore and aft with Devin scond followed by Amrynn,Durriken,Bergi and then one of the fighters.Move as quickly as we can,stay together and don't speak unless needed. Bergi ,would you prefer to lead.? I ask only because you have the advantage of size here,but I will not ask it of you I'Daiin,front or rearguard?
            Bergi shook her head, almost violently at Rhaina. “I’d not be of any service in the front, no ma’am. I think your ordering sounds just fine.”
            As the party sorted out the particulars, Bergi considered the armor and cloak she wore. She didn’t think they had any special traits that would give her an edge in the nettlemaze, other than the stink of course. She’d done the best she could in getting the bloodstains out, but she still smelled more like a goblin than she cared to. Still, there was no helping that now. She supposed she would have to have the items magically cleaned. She was glad that they had a few among them who could see in the dark. That helped to negate that particular edge for the goblins, but there was still a need for light. Rummaging in her pack, she prepped a handy light source for when they needed it.
            “I have nothing to offer at the front nor the rear,” Amrynn uttered, her throat dry. She swallowed and moistened her lips. “I can offer the will of the Weave,” she added, thankful, and hopeful, her voice did not betray her struggle to cope with the disgust that confronted them. “Though I sacrifice my own safety whilst I gather that same Weave to me.” She stepped near Bergi, offering her a wan smile and what she hoped were light words of falsely-felt bravado. “I suspect we are cut from the same fine cloth in that regard,” she said.
            A short song, repeated twice, lit a rock for Bergi and Rhaina each to hold, but did little to lift the sense of tension that the revelation of the unburied dead had given rise to.
            Stepping into the cloying stench of rot took an effort of will, but the Heroes of Sandpoint were up to the task. I'Daiin crammed himself into the low, dim tunnel, followed closely by the rest of the party. Bergi and Rhaina's light brought the pile of goblin dead into sharper detail, an effect that Amrynn, at least, could have done without.
            Though the wicked thorns of the briar thicket they had entered scratched at I'Daiin's skin as he moved, his tough hide turned them aside as a mere nuisance rather than allowing them to draw blood. While Bergi was free from having to bend nearly double and suffer the thorns and thistles pulling at her hair and sticking to her clothing, the others were not so gifted.
            Moments after I'Daiin had entered the tunnel leading to their goal, as Bergi and Rhaina's light shone down the twisting tunnels, bloody-faced goblins rushed from around a bend in the central tunnel, moving with manic speed. Though their beady red eyes were filmed over and they showed hideous wounds crusted with dried blood, they lunged at the party with surprising alacrity, their myriad slender teeth chattering hungrily. Hoarse wheezes escaped them as they attacked, and the pile of goblin bodies near the entrance to the maze began to heave and lurch.
            As the group passed the bodies Rhaina felt badly for Amrynn's sake and wished they could have found a route that didn't take them so close to the aftermath of the earlier battle. That changed when she noted their movement "Undead!" She hissed as she moved to intercept the noxious creatures,swiftly lashed out striking the uppermost one with the fist not holding the light "Bergi,please keep an eye out for anything behind us"
            She punched the topmost goblin in the pile of bodies in the head, snapping its neck with an audible crack. A moment later she realized that the topmost goblin was only moving because of the goblin lurching up below it!
            Seeing the goblins in this undead state raised the ire of the cleric. Even though they were vile creatures not even they deserved the befoulment of becoming undead. Uttering a prayer to Pharasma, Durriken sent out a pulse of divine energy to help and these creatures back to the bone yard.
            A chill blast of air pulsed out from where Durriken held his holy symbol, and while it didn't harm the living, it struck the goblin corpses like sandpaper, inadvertently making them all the more horrific as their rotting flesh peeled away from bone. They were forced back a step by Pharasma's ire, but seemed indifferent to the damage the goddess' power had caused; loose flaps of skin and flesh dangled from their bared skin as they darted forward again with more speed than any undead abomination had any right to.
            The stink of dead flesh was thick in her nostrils. Passing the pile of goblin corpses she struggled to overcome the stench that assailed her nostrils. She found herself wanting in the endeavour. Silently she began a mild curse centred upon the nature of goblins, alive or dead, and their personal hygiene. She was barely half way when circumstances changed.
            Chaos burst upon her and her companions. A tangle of goblins from before, horrid heaving and writhing from behind. She reacted instinctively, drawing her sword from the scabbard at her waist, summoning the words of an incantation to her mind; the throb of the Weave burnt through her veins as she summoned the words to the spell. Her eyes sought Devin, and they fell upon the half-elf, too far for her to reach. Durriken stood between them; she acted instinctively. Reaching out she touched him, upon the arm; arcane words passing between her lips.
            The spell uttered, she broke her touch and stepped away from the cleric, giving him the room he required and allowing herself the same; it was the best she could manage, circumstances governing.
            There was precious little to do with the situation but deal with it. Devin fell back to one knee and one foot to balance mobility versus available space in the cramped confines, drew his shortsword, and slashed through the overgrowth towards the goblin menancing Durriken. Even as his blade cut in, he posed, "I'Daiin; how far to the clearing? Advance, or make a fighting retreat, drawing them with us?" Devin well remembered the quantity of goblins that had menaced them in the fort -- he couldn't imagine fighting a similar number here and now, in the thorns and thistles.
            The cramped confines, coupled with attempting to attack around the tough and springy vegetation, made Devin's assault all but impossible; the unnaturally quick goblin seemed almost alive in its ability to evade his sword. Whoever had set this trap had chosen the ground well.
            "Advance," hissed the barbarian. "We must cut through them. They are here to slow us down." The Shoanti squeezed past his companions, entered his battle trance, and wordlessly and brutally shoved at the undead goblin.
            The goblin was smashed back into the thistles, bits of its armor (and likely its bones) jarred loose, and I'Daiin followed it, crouching awkwardly but coiled like a firepelt to press the attack.
            Finally getting her bearings, Bergi drifted away from the undead, trying to free up some space for Amrynn. The halfling didn’t think she could maintain her breathing for a song in this putrid stink, but the lilt of lyrics still paraded through her head. As she stepped back, her clear voice rang into Rhaina as she momentarily placed a reassuring hand on the paladin.
“Bury them deep, bury them true.
Purity of heart will help protect you.”
            Bergi then drew the cold iron dagger and scanned for where else she might lend aid.
            The half-flayed goblins were unbelievably fast to retaliate against I'Daiin, tearing and biting at him with a flurry of nails and teeth that were strong enough to penetrate even his thick hide. They also burst from the pile of bodies to assault Rhaina, but her quick kicks and shoves were enough to keep them at bay. Shadows danced over the undead abominations as the party moved between them and the lights that Rhaina and Bergi held; the thorns seemed to clutch at the party as though in league with the horrors. The smell of death was pervasive, an oily residue on the tongue that begged the stomach for the release of vomiting.
            “We need to move on and see if we can reach open ground “Devin,ignore them and press on.Try to hold the other end of the corridor if you can reach it Bergi,move up towards Durriken and leave room for me to back up. Amrynn If you have a spell to hurt these two let me know and I’ll back up after I attack to give you room”
            "Not yet!" Devin yelled back, regarding rushing ahead. "These two have to drop, first, or they'll get inside. You three would be cut off."
            The goblin was unnaturally fast even for a goblin, too fast to hit, jerking about in the close confines as though it were alive and on some maddening drug. Froth had congealed at the corners of its mouth, and it gaped wide, showing a bloated black tongue.
            Suddenly the quiet of the thistles had become a maelstrom of shouts, actions and movement. Chaos. To her surprise she did not feel the same within herself; the shifting flow of foe and friend became a tableau upon which she observed as someone both divorced from its machinations and at once a part of it. Her mind gained a clarity she hitherto of herself had not expected herself capable. Down their foes. It was the simple resolution to the obstruction placed before them.
            “Step away, Rhaina,” she replied to the silver-haired warrior, reflecting her own words back at her in acknowledgment of their hasty plan. “As best you can. And Durriken also,” she added. The words of magic came easily to her mind and her lips. Drawing upon the Weave and the power within, she summoned the forces and bent them to her will; without thinking; without effort. Pale red swirls of energy twisted and danced, coalescing into abstract similies of arrow shafts that grew in intensity and form till there were two clear articulations of the missile hovering before her. Twisting strands of red energy danced about the shafts; both arcane weapons strained to be released from their bonds, eager to find their marks.
            With a final utterance of her spell and a flick of a wrist she sent them both speeding towards their target. They corkscrewed around I'Daiin and Durriken to strike the goblins with the force of a horse's kick. The chest of the goblin I'Daiin had shoved back exploded backward in thick, noxious chunks, while the one menacing Durriken was unfortunate enough to be struck in the head, leaving a horrific gaping hole on one side of its face. If they had needed proof that the goblins were undead, they had it now; the goblin with the holed head continued to gnash its remaining teeth and dart about, dripping loathesome fluids released from its sagging flesh.
            In the interest of gaining some ground and leaving others room to maneuver, Devin moved five feet further east into the bramble.
            Squeezed as he was by the grasping thorns, it was cumbersome and slow to move deeper into the maze, but the frenetic half-headed goblin was unable to strike him as he moved away, foiled by the same vegetation that had saved it from Devin's strike earlier.
            The beasts were trying to hem them in.
            “I’m going. I’m going!” Bergi tried to pick her way through the melee, but new bodies, new timing, and the nasty nettles made the corridors of opportunity slim. She couldn’t see a way to safely dance past Durriken, Devin and, more importantly, the raking claws of the ungoblin. The open space to the east was beyond the stretch of her usual routines. She’d have to improvise and hope for the best.
            With a burst of speed she spun with a delightful flourish behind Durriken and dipped into a cartwheel. Her momentum carried her into another spin with Devin and sent her wheeling past him further down the eastern corridor. Only fate would tell if she would leave bloodstains on Devin after their dance.
            In a display of grace and coordination that would have left the patrons of The Rusty Dragon oohing and aahing with appreciation, Bergi neatly spun past friend and foe alike, coming to a halt just in front of Devin with her fistful of light held high.
            Movement attracted her eye just before the attack would have surprised her: two more of the nasty, quick goblin dead rushed at her from the "cave" deeper in the thistle patch. For a mercy, the closest of them blocked the other from reaching her; it frothed impotently behind its fellow, who, fast though it was, was not quite quick enough to catch the canny halfling.
            The half-headed monstrosity snarled and attacked Durriken with mindless abandon, whizzing about and clawing and biting, but it was unable to penetrate his armor as it crowded about his knees.
            Swarmed by the disgusting little monsters, Rhaina couldn't keep them both at bay while they darted and lunged with such speed in the cramped quarters, and she suffered a few scratches and bites.
            Seeing more undead clamour out to menace the party, Durriken calls upon Pharasma's grace once more, "Don't go too far afield in case you need healing."
            This time, Pharasma's wrath was even more powerful than the last. The gust of wind blew out from where Durriken brandished the holy spiral, and where it touched the undead, it snuffed the false life they suffered, blasting away flesh from bone and leaving behind three disgusting piles of dead goblin.
            The ones facing Bergi, however, had not been weakened by Durriken's prayers previously, and Pharasma's wind hadn't reached the one in the back at all. Both still twitched and jerked about in the thistle tunnel, one of them with a face that was now nearly all bone, but none the less horrific due to that. It's myriad long, slender teeth were laced with the gristle of its own face, and the smell in the maze was now downright barbaric.
            Feeling the Elf move next to her Rhaina struck out at the undead that could reach their Sorceress ”Have a care Amrynn” Rhaina decided to trust in the and hold the rearguard position
            That the goblins had still come at them after her magically incarnated missiles had struck them with so much deadly force surprised the elf; she had expected the dread creatures to fall before the power of the Weave.
            She had heard the priestesses in the abbey speak in hushed tones of those most foul creatures that are summoned from beyond the threshold of death. Without exception the reasons for such dire action were rooted in nefarious motivation and need. Seeing the loathsome beasts whirl and prance though half their head might hang loose from their neck or most of their chest was missing such that one could see clear through their dead-life presence was manifest proof of such talk.
            Thus she breathed a sigh of relief as Durriken's holy wind swept the goblins nearby from their sight, leaving behind their gruesome remains as so many piles of dead flesh; the smell assailed her; their final death removed none of its power and she struggled not to gag upon the foul stench.
            Devin and Bergi's cries from where they crouched within the nettles drew her attention. They were too far away, and the confining, grabbing nature of their surroundings made it impossible for her to give either aid.
            “Stay safe, Devin,” she cried, involuntarily, fear for the half-elf clutching the words from her breast. “And you Bergi. Watch out!” She turned to Durriken, “Can you sweep them aside also with the grace of Pharasma?” There was more anxious fear in her voice than she would have liked; more than she could disguise. In the back of her mind she considered: where there was one, there could be more. The long sword she considered too unwieldy for the brambles and thorny confining bushes of the Nettles. She armed herself with her dagger, a more nimble, though less effective weapon in close combat. She listened. Could she hear audible evidence coming their way of more undead goblins? Or worse. And if so from where?
            "Damn it! Two more!" Heedless of the briar, Devin shoved around Bergi and came in with his shortsword at the lead undead goblin. He took to heart a renewed confidence in the party's ability to quickly deal with threats in difficult circumstances, and to more quickly listen to Rhaina's suggestions based on her experience of the party's ability. This head-on, confined fight was extremely frustrating; he was feeling hobbled and hemmed in and fouled, all, hardly able to get a sword's point into a foe with his best efforts, much less outmaneuver them. It was all well-weighted to the goblins' favor, and the only thing Devin despised more than participating in a fair fight was participating in a fight at a disadvantage.
            Devin's sword sheared through the goblin before him, dropping it in a twitching heap at his feet - but the moment it fell, the one behind it lunged forward, climbing over its dead fellow to bite Devin's arm.
            “Gaaah!! Twomorehere!” Bergi cried out in unison with Devin’s alarm. She grabbed a hold of his charging form and used his momentum to swing her backward, away from the nasties, while aiding his advance forward. When she twirled to a stop, she sang Devin a verse and touched him with a hand in passing. “Back is front, front is back, battle the ebb and flow. Hold the line, your heart is true, stronger than even you know.”
            Amrynn let out a small sigh of relief as the vile undead goblins fell before Durriken's holy wind. The stench was no less than it had been before, but the sight of piles of foul goblin flesh made it a shade more tolerable. Tolerable that was, if she forced herself to imagine it did not exist.
            Confined within the restricted space of the thorny brambles, she shuffled forwards, towards Devin and the last of the goblin corpses that assailed the half-elf. She held a warning hand of silence up to those that were closest to her, wishing for silence as she strained to hear for sounds, for hints and clues as to what lay ahead, around or behind them.
            She gestured in the direction of Devin, but beyond, to the northeast. "I cannot be sure, but I think there are more beyond; I hear voices, sounds really. They come to my ears as though they are receding, perhaps fleeing, but," and she shook her head, "I'm not sure. Not completely."
            Devin's plight focused her once more. The danger was not passed yet. Still there was harm that could come to them. Down their foes, they had yet to accomplish.
            The relative silence of the warren was broken by a rumbling, echoing roar that sent chills up their spines, despite being muffled by the thick walls of greenery. Those who had been through the warren before could recall the deep hole from which the strange roar had originated, but to the others, it was a mystery.
            "GAH!" Devin exclaimed as the remaining goblin corpse landed a fierce bite on his forearm. "One down," Devin reported in a clipped snarl, and wrested and kicked and shoved the undead bugger back and away to bring his shortsword into play again, trying to drive it point-first through the goblin's chest.
            The horrid little beast was too fast, and gave him another bite for his troubles. Its attacks were quick as a snake, and its rotting jaws full of too many teeth gnashed and ground against each other as Devin shook the monster off. It was tortuous not to be able to stand upright to deal with this vexing foe.
            The relative silence of the warren was broken by a rumbling, echoing roar that sent chills up their spines, despite being muffled by the thick walls of greenery. Those who had been through the warren before could recall the deep hole from which the strange roar had originated, but to the others, it was a mystery.
            The bone-chilling guttural roar that echoed throughout the maze of thistles cut through the elf maiden. She glanced to those who had been here before; those who maybe knew what the creature was. Maybe they had even seen it, fought it.
            “Rhaina?” she questioned, the query filled with the desire for everything she didn't know, everything she wanted to know, everything Rhaina could tell her.
            The horrid little beast was too fast, and gave him another bite for his troubles. Its attacks were quick as a snake, and its rotting jaws full of too many teeth gnashed and ground against each other as Devin shook the monster off. It was tortuous not to be able to stand upright to deal with this vexing foe.
            With each scratching swipe that landed upon Devin's arm, chest and shoulder, Amrynn almost felt the wound herself. Frustration boiled within her. Crouched within these thorny brambles, unable to move with anything like the ease and effortlessness she was used to, she could feel the broiling chaos deep within her bubble and surge. She beat it down. Not now. No, not now. It served no-one any good. She needed to be in control if she was to be of use to her new-found companions.
            Scowling, his eyes rolling almost as much as the undead goblin, I'Daiin strode through the cluster of his companions up to the little beast harrying Devin, and wordlessly assaulted it with a vicious push and elbow. "Stay DEAD," he growled. "You dishonor the Lifebringer."
            The rustle of thorned branches parting prompted a furtive glance over his shoulder and behind, his sword attempting to guard versus the undead goblin; hold it a bay a moment; as he truly wondered if some other threat had burst into the middle of the party to split them. But no; the corner of Devin's mouth raised at seeing I'Daiin's determined, undeterred press through the bramble. Devin slashed in at the goblin one final time, turned to his side in a half-guard position, and let I'Daiin readily slip past, adding with a note of gratitude, "All yours."
            The thorns of the thicket were turned aside by I'Daiin's tough hide as he squeezed past his companions (though they suffered a few pokes as they made way). With one powerful swat, he shoved the mindless goblin back down the tunnel it came from, following with swift strides despite having to crouch awkwardly. Though the little monster's neck now hung askew, it refused to do the decent thing and lie still. Just beyond it, I'Daiin could see the larger chamber that promised room to stand.
            The mad scramble of battle weighed on Bergi, and the lashings Devin took pained her equally. There was little she could do to physically assist him with their nimble foe, so she toyed with tunes and lyrics which might lend aid. The roar of the beast in the belly of the maze accentuated the dangers they faced and harkened to the heroic stories she had accumulated over the years. Heroes existed within them all, and she needed to unlock them, sooner rather than later.
            Bergi sheathed the tiny dagger and rose to her full height, assuming a statuesque, stage presence. Then in rich, keening tones, her voice rose above the din.
“The shadows blue
The trails run red
The horrors true
‘Round the walking dead
The maze of brown
With beasts of green
A thorny crown
Never life serene
A feral black
Against the white
The grave attacks
Who so bears the light
Against the dead
Stand ye true
In heart and head
Hero through and through”
            A light touch upon Devin’s dancing frame sent the heroic surge coursing through him.
            Oblivious to the beauty that Bergi's lilting voice brought to the squalid warren, the quick little goblin corpse zipped back to scratch and gnaw at I'Daiin, but with its head dangling, it couldn't find enough purchase to penetrate the barbarian's tough hide.
            Eyes blazing, the barbarian turned on the undead humanoid, again slapping the tiny creature away in a savage show of strength. "In here!" he practically howled to Devin and the rest of the Heroes. The open space within the thorns and pricklies was within tantalizing reach, although I'Daiin's lip curled at the stench of dead things that refused to lay intert.
            The goblin tumbled back end over end, and this time it did not rise again. The red rage faded from I'Daiin's mind and muscles as the rest of the party piled into the chamber, finding that the Birdcruncher goblins they had butchered earlier were gone, though their blood still stained the mud and raised a stink.
            Oddly, they found no further resistance waiting there for them. The warren was quiet, with only the muffled sound of the sea breaking the deathly silence.

41


            The sight of I’Daiin, all tattoos, muscle and fiery eyes, was an intimidating sight, and the way in which he swatted the undead goblins as if they were nothing more than irritating flies landing upon a slab of meat, was, well, impressive. Especially considering the manner in which those same undead had brushed off her own attempts to subdue them using arcane means with such apparent ease. A man not to be trifled with, clearly, Amrynn thought to herself as she stepped through the clawing vines into the larger clearing within the maze of thistles.
            She was grateful for the release from the thorny brambles and to be able to stand upright; she felt the strain from the constant crouching in her legs and back. She absently rubbed the small of her back as she surveyed their surroundings.
            Quiet. Peaceful. Empty, praise Desna's good will. A respite from the brief, brutal and intense burst of violence. Amrynn could feel the beat of her heart slow and the heat of her blood cool as she took deep breaths, calming her self.
            “Well a fine bit of hugger muggery that was,” Bergi said. “Can’t imagine the party they’d planned if we’d jollyboated our way in.”
            She fell into her marching position as the troupe filed into the more sizable expanse. Swinging her glowing rock around, she did the best she could to eliminate the shadowy nooks which littered the nettlemaze.
            Recollecting the bridge which awaited them, she exhaled and said, “Clearly they expected us to give it another go. Can’t say I fancy the bridge approach when they’re about their wits, no matter how deftly they may have shined it.”
            "I'll help check the bridge, when we get to it. Let's see what we have to work with." Devin was clearly eager to get out of the confining bramble and the sharp-toothed savagely-gnashing goblin undead.
            The bridge was the goblins' only steady route to and from land, too, so if they'd sacrificed it, they'd be cutting themselves off. Bergi had a good point to be cautious, however.
            "I'Daiin, let me take point, mind for trips and traps and falls. You are more than welcome to charge forward at your discretion."
            "When the time comes, Devin," said the barbarian with a nod, weary from the rage of battle. He gave a toothy grin. "Other Shoanti are taught to check for traps, it is true, but they cannot eat fire the way I can. Of course, that means nothing if I am hauled into the trees by a spring-loaded net," he concluded with a quiet, throaty chuckle. "Bergi, they'd probably throw the burning Unliving at us like fire cannonade. This was better. Although I am also none too pleased to see that bridge again. Can anyone create a cover of smoke or fog? I never know what magicks you damnable sorcerers and priests have up your sleeves. I'Daiin, of course, had no sleeves, only thickly corded veiny muscle that burst out of his chain shirt and ended in two hands, gripping a still stained longsword.
            “I can,” she replied. “If subterfuge is what you wish, I can help in that regard. We 'damnable sorcerers' have a use or two, I would suggest.” The sparkle on her eye softened the tone of her words, lending them a faint humour and mollifying colour.
            Bergi snorted with humor as Amrynn stood her ground in good stead. The elven arcanist and the Shoanti barbarian were as mismatched vocationally as Bergi and I’Daiin were physically. Bergi shadowboxed her way around I’Daiin’s monstrous leg and punched him without effect several times in rapid succession just above the knee.
            “Mind this one Amrynn,” she jibed. “He fancies himself invulnerable too.”
            I'Daiin opened his mouth, then closed it. "Elves and magic are not so bad," he said quietly, both embarrassed and thinking of the departed Quickfoot. He shook his head and continued. "My mother was what you call a druid. Is one still, among other things. She knew a spell to create a fog. That could prevent the goblin archers from seeing us as we cross, perhaps."
            Amrynn inclined her head. “A fine woman she was, to be sure,” she acknowledged. Amrynn's eyes sought Devin, concern faintly etched upon her smooth elven features. “Are you hurt?” she asked in a low voice as she stepped close to him, a hand of concern laying itself upon his arm. She searched his eyes, seeking the truth of his reply.
            Devin paused while he considered shrugging off the relatively minor injuries, then caught Amrynn's search and held forth his other arm for exhibition, turning it over once, front and back, checking it, himself. Fresh blood decorated the armor around a series of broad bite-shaped cuts and abrasions. "I've had worse," he reassured her, lowering his arm back down. "That thing landed a few good bites, but I've a lot of fight left in me, yet."
            “Mmm, still,” Bergi said, “you’ll want to be cleaning those sooner rather than fester. A dip in yon salt water might do ya. I’ve got a song I could sing you in a pinch, but I like to keep the throat clear in case Durriken takes a turn, Desna forbid.”
            "If there's abundant healing attention to be had, I'll accept some. But if it's in limited supply, I'll abide for now." Devin said.
            As the party gathered in the open space Rhaina stepped up and offered healing to I’Daiin”Through the grace of the Dawnflower I can now remove your weariness when I heal,I’Daiin.Do you need that or should I save it?”
            Speaking up a little so her voice carried to the others: “Before we move on we should be aware that Amrynn thought she heard people running away from this area while we fought the Undead. So there could be another ambush or they could very likely have trapped the bridge. Especially as we dropped the bridge last time and they may seek vengeance for that.”
            Devin nodded, acknowledging Rhaina's statements, but had no comments to extend of his own. He'd play it as he saw it, when it came. Good to be warned, though.
            He caught from I'Daiin's summary that I'Daiin would remain on point, and relinquish it only if the situation warranted a more-cautious approach; Devin nodded concurrence.
            Talk of archers on the bridge brought Devin up short. Frontal assaults were definitely not his thing, and to that end, he hadn't even put the two together -- the goblins' archery threat, and the chokepoint of the bridge. To his mind, the bridge was an obstacle to be physically passed, not an anticipated ambush, but now hearing it discussed as such made it obvious it would be. He sighed at his own oversight and was grateful to be in the company of those better able to plan for the coming fight ahead.
            "We have smokesticks, too; useful as a strengthening component, or alone. And though it's no threat to the goblins, I can conjure a glowing humanoid and have it be the first to burst from the bramble and sprint across the bridge."
            Bergi finished her fighting dance and twirled to a stop between Devin and Amrynn, eyeing them each. “You’re quite the pair,” she said, commenting on the host of abilities they offered.
            Bergi’s observation prompted a delicate flush of the elven woman’s cheeks. Perhaps she didn’t pick up on the alluded reference, merely the words that were said. She smiled, a hint of embarrassment.
            Devin nodded once to I'Daiin, ready to follow his lead on their advance once cover or concealment was arranged for the bridge ahead.
            “I dunno,” Bergi mused aloud. “I’m thinking we put on a good show at the bridge, but let the gobbos think they’ve given us a thrashing, driven us off. Then we come back tomorrow via boat and see this business done.” She paused then for a moment, giving it some thought. “Or not. Or something else. What I -do- know, is that I could stand to sing a day or two without being drenched in blood.”
            "Mayhap we can combine your efforts," mused I'Daiin, scowling with concentration, his sun tattoos contorting. "Fog and smoke, and then this illusion of yours, Devin, perhaps it can run away from the bridge--could it look like a retreat? Meanwhile, we move forward."
            The hulking barbarian chuckled at the halfling's final quip. "Blood is all we shall see for a good while until this business is done, Bergi."
            “I think we should observe from cover for long enough to have some idea of what movement and numbers we can perceive before trying to plan,just now” Rhaina said.
            Amrynn glanced up and about her, calculating, observing. “There is a breeze, I feel. Not strong; not here. A bridge speaks to me of exposure.” She mulled the point to herself. “I can conjure an obscuring mist or fog. Though it is created and then left to the mercy of the elements. If the wind blows brisk upon the bridge, complications could ensue.”
            Amrynn screwed her nose up at the persistently strong odour still redolent of death and decay. She wondered whether she would ever be able to truly eliminate the smell from her clothes, hair, or even her skin. She supposed that yes, she would, though right now, the stink echoing through her nostrils and nestling upon her tongue, she considered the possibility that it would not. She did not fine the thought particularly appealing.
            “Though I would wish to spend as little time as possible with this foul place,” she said, liking Rhaina’s suggestion. “Perhaps knowledge is power; if we can learn more to sway the odds in our favour, then I would suggest pursuit of such a course.”
            She is elven. And patience is a virtue amongst her people. Indeed it is as much a part of her people as impatience is a part of the shorter live races. She could observe for days, if it were necessary. And less pungent. “But action is also required. Watching would only serve a purpose so far; eventually labour is required.”

42


            Leaving the cave beneath the brambles, and the mysterious deep hole within it, behind, the party pulled aside the thistle doors blocking their path and ventured up the throat of the passage leading to the bridge. As they feared, it had been repaired. What was worse, a cautious look up at the towers that flanked the entrance to the fort revealed that the goblins and their more powerful allies were alerted to the presence of intruders, and a double handful stood ready with bows and javelins - among them Orik and the horrible bugbear, Bruthazmus, whose powerful bow (now cleaned of goo) had caused them such grief.
            As Amrynn had said, there was an ocean breeze blowing just as there had been the last time they crossed the bridge, making it sway and creak.
            Amrynn, Devin, and Durriken all spotted a goblin head peeking from behind the thistle bushes flanking the bridge on the far side.
            The elf drew Devin’s attention with a hand upon his arm, pointing silently through their brush cover towards the far end of the bridge; a goblin’s head marked the position of a sentry.
            "They've got the bridge choked off with ready archers, and they're prepared to drop it, if it comes to that -- there's one goblin in the brush at the north end of the span." Devin surveyed the bridge cautiously from cover, gauging the distance. "Fifty feet. Near enough to make it in a dash before they could drop it, but too far to make it and get through the barricaded doors without getting pincushioned. We need a tortoise." Devin looked over the forces on the battlements again from his sheltered vantage. "No mage; wonder where she is?"
            Devin grinned. "That humanoid light I talked about? It can run as fast as a man, or streak as balls of glowing multicolored light, or come into existence where I want. Unlikely we can use it more than once, but if I popped it up in the midst of one of those towers, or shot it at them like some sort of spell, it'd be a distraction for a few seconds. Or I could use it to keep that goblin from cutting the bridge."
            "So, I know we can get to those doors at a sprint. I know we can keep that goblin from cutting the bridge for at least those few moments. Anyone have a stack of tower shields in their back pockets, and a battering ram? Anyone could /get/ to the keep -- what I don't have a ready answer for is how we immediately then get inside, and cover versus their archers."
            The idea of assaulting the seemingly well-defended front door of the goblin fortress didn’t appeal at all to Amrynn. She shifted her position to get a better look at both bridge and fortress. She liked not what she saw. Too many arrows from too many bows and not enough cover for themselves. And the feel of the ocean breeze upon her cheek confirmed to her the misgivings she had supposed within the nettlemaze. Any attempt to cloak the approach to the fortress gate with a shroud of fog and mist would be hindered by its subservience to the whims of the wind. She shook her head in faint annoyance.
            “Perhaps the back door is a better option?” she offered. “Tell me of this approach by boat. Mayhaps it is a safer route.”
            "So if we aren't going in this way, we should drop the bridge, save them the trouble," Devin grinned. "And whatever we've got with an eighty-foot reach, I'd like to send the goblins' way. Whittle them a bit further."
            "It would seem likely that they would be prepared for a water attack given that was our escape route. Likely they have just been put on alert and are being more cautious of their defences. Perhaps we should try this direction and push on if possible. Otherwise we will need a distraction to gain access. "
            Bergi’s face was scrunched up in thought and observation as the group bandied options about. She exhaled with a snort, “I’d guess Lyrie is laying in wait, or eyeballing the water approach…her and her wickedness.” More heated breath hissed from her. “I imagine once we start shooting, Devin, they’ll do the same, and I don’t fancy that bugbear’s bow.”
            She hummed a little tune under her breath, still in thought. “This was to be a scouting run. We’re not outfitted for knocking down that door. Folks wanted to rest yet, wanted to take another night to regroup before we dove back into Thistletop. I still think that’s best. Let them think they got the upper hand, and then come back and hit them again tomorrow, better prepared.”
            “Some fog, some arrows, some glowing men, and see which way the wind blows.” A few more notes drifted from her, and she tapped her lips in consideration. “Let me try something,” she said.
            A few trilling notes leapt from Bergi and took wing. The sounds fluttered into the wind and disintegrated. Moments later echoes of those notes came back to the party, and Bergi smiled with a nod. She pointed two narrow fingers at the distant wall and whispered in a squelching goblin, <“Oy! Quit shovin’ ya’ sack o’ crap.”>
            A few moments passed and Bergi blushed a little as she moved her fingers slightly and sent another message to the wall, <“Shut it you! Ya’ smell like yer mother’s flaps.”>
            Bergi's efforts were rewarded as a scuffle broke out among the goblins on the eastern tower. While it was too far away to hear anything specific over the sound of surf, it was clearly a fight, because Bruthazmus began yelling and pounding his meaty fist down on the out-of-sight victims of Bergi's little trick.
            "We should try to burn down that door as well. Do we have flaming arrows? Then, we simply leave. Broken bridge, burnt door, they'll expect an attack this way, and then...nothing. I wish we could prevent their access to food, but they can simply climb down the walls at night and hunt, not to mention that goblins eat carrion." The barbarian rubbed his chin. "We should be sure to utterly destroy any we kill. They can be made into unliving by some magicker..."
            “Durriken,could you heal us please in case we’re attacked.? Turning to the group,while stringing her bow, Rhaina said: If we can burn both the bridge and the door it does give us only one way to watch for them,but also limits us unless there is another way in/out that we’re not currently aware of But all in all it does seem like the best choice here since charging that gate is suicide and simply leaving accomplishes nothing We may need to stand watches in Sandpoint though in case they do get some people out and raid in retaliation”
            Satisfied that they had a plan and a course of action to take; one that'd do some harm to the goblins' cause, even if it wouldn't get the party inside the fort this day; Devin set his mind to carrying out what had been discussed.
            "The bridge chokes them, too; we stay in the bramble, they can't reach us from the fort. They may have a surprise or two to send our way, though," Devin recalled the courtyard shed and the beastie within it, as well as the aforementioned spellcaster's unknown whereabouts. "Flaming arrows we can rig with cloth and oil, but without an incendiary, that stout door's not going to light. If we can shoot that far, we may as well start shooting at the goblins on the ramparts, take out one or two from cover. I could land a shot or two on the eastern watch even from here, I'm sure. But only a couple."
            "So, cut the bridge, or are there other ideas to wreak havoc, first?" Devin appeared more than willing to be the one to step forward to sunder the rope anchors.
            The elven woman pondered their situation, hearing, absorbing, assimilating the words her comrades uttered. Running headlong down the bridge to the goblin fort was tantamount to suicide; that had already been stated. It was a statement of the obvious. She knew no invisibility spells, could not magically conjure flame nor an inflammable coating to an object, and could not float free of the ground to attend the goblin door from a place or direction unexpected to the goblin defenders.
            Bergi had exhibited an imaginative method of sowing disquiet and discord among the defenders. She smiled at the yelping and yelling that wafted towards them faintly from the ramparts.
            “If shooting at the goblins is the means to our end for this day, then I can fling a handful of arcane shafts in their direction. Pinpricks they may prove to be, but one or two may pop a balloon of goblin flesh.”
            The Paladin stepped forward after drawing her bow and drew the attention of the party to a section of the wall to the left of the door “If we managed to set the door afire they could simply open it and put out the fire while remaining in the fort.
            She continued ”I have a Tanglefoot arrow and if Bergi were to cast a Grease spell on it and I fired it at that section of wall they would have no access to that section of the wall from above and would have to sortie out . We shoot our fire arrows at it and there are bushes there as well which if set them afire might feed the flames and make their task all the more difficult. As to the cutting of the bridge I think we can hold off and drop if if they attempt to cross”
            Devin stepped south, a little further from the bridge, listening, arms crossed and eyes a bit distant. "What's our objective?" he asked, simply, as he tried to reconcile the number of things they /might/ try; some of his own, included. "Stop the goblin attacks, right?" He shook his head, "Scratching the fort walls will tire us and not harm them. We don' t have the numbers or the supplies to siege them. We need to bring them out to us, or catch them when they're out here. If they stay in hiding, fine, we bring a crew, we spend a week and clear the bramble and trench in a watch on this side. If this is the only goblin clan left, fine, let them starve in there."
            “There is more to this than the Goblins.They’re just pawns. But..they are the troops being used by those who are now in charge of them ,with the death of Ripnugget. The fort is now their only source of strength and pride. I think we need to deal a blow,not just to the walls,but to the morale of what remains of the tribe. There is much more to this than simply goblin raids. You remember Ripnugget saying that the Caravan raid wasn’t his idea. There is a hatred of Sandpoint,but with something more than the humans and Bugbears that we’ve seen behind it,I fear. If we can set fire to the wall they may be forced to come out to put out the fire and we can hit them while they do and then cut the bridge. At least we will be heading back from this scouting mission with something to make them think about.” Rhaina thinks for a moment “Maybe burning the bridge would be more effective.If we drop an end we know they can climb down and bring it back up because they’ve done that Maybe we can do both” Bergi how many Grease spells do you have today?”
            <“Gobsmacked! Maybe it’s time -I- run this crew.”> Bergi continued to toss whispered goblin threats and curses at the wall from time to time, snorting at the outcomes. She kept taunting those she’d targeted for as long as they were visible.
            As she unslung her bow in anticipation of peppering those on the walls, Bergi responded to Rhaina’s inquiry. “I’ve butter aplenty for the time being, if you like, though I imagine walls such as them would need a great gut of oil before catching true. Just say the word though.”
            She nocked an arrow and kept scanning the ragged edifice. “Shame we can’t cut the bridge in the middle,” she said. “Sight trickier to fix that way.”
            *We need to bring them out to us, or catch them when they're out here.* Devin's words got Amrynn to thinking. They, if she gauged the group's past actions correctly, were unlikely to enter the goblin fort either unnoticed or unharmed. Assaulting the front gate, that lay before them, was unthinkable – they would all be corpses before they made it halfway across the bridge, the ability to make themselves invisible notwithstanding. And apparently the rear of the fort, using a boat as transport-cum-access to get them to the servant's entrance, was as unlikely to gain them advantage or surprise as from the front.
            A conundrum indeed.
            Bergi's machinations were at least sowing seeds of discontent within the goblin ranks. It was a start.
            “We cannot stand here all day, my friends,” she observed. “Speculating and considering. Sooner or later we must -do- something. Whether that is continue forward or retreat to consider our position.” She took a step back, presaging her next words.
            “Our goal was to gather as much knowledge as we could, no? A simple objective. We cannot assault the gate.” It was a simple statement, of what appeared to her the most obvious thing. “And unless we can draw the creatures out onto the bridge, then we merely prick the dragon's hide if we attack them from here. That merely stokes their ire.”
            “I propose we retreat and consider the next step,” she stated. *Though that may not sit well with some of the more martially inclined of the group*, she opined silently to herself.
            Intent on causing a little havoc before withdrawing, the party sent magic and arrows at their foes on the fort. Devin's glowing man crossing the bridge drew only a few arrows before Orik and Bruthazmus got the goblins to stop firing at the figment, but Amrynn's magical blasts took out a few of the goblins, or at least, they disappeared from view with shrieks of pain. Their normal arrows were blown astray in the stiff ocean breeze, but Devin's steady barrage of acidic globs served to sever the rope bridge in the middle; it fell, effectively trapping the goblins on the head-like island of Thistletop once more.
            The Nettlewood was silent as they made their way back to the Lost Coast Road; they felt as though eyes were upon them as they marched through the goblin-paths snaking through the underbrush.

43


            Back at the Rusty Dragon, Ameiko served them a frothy ale, her hand lingering a moment on Rhaina's back as she leaned in to place her tray on their table. She proved disappointed that they hadn't finished off the problem at Thistletop, though.
            "That witch should pay for what she did to Tsuto," she growled, having apparently decided that Tsuto's behavior wasn't entirely his own fault, despite the evidence against him. "Besides, isn't she gathering a goblin army?"
            Relieved to be back at the inn after the confrontation in the thistles. "We need to plan some sort of diversion to allow us to gain entry. With the bridge out will they not be more vigilant for a water strike?" Durriken said.
            "Don't count me overly pessimistic, but we may not have the means to breach that fort; force nor stealth; while they're on guard. Water breathing, invisibility, or flight, maybe -- all of which are beyond our purse. Forts are built for a purpose, effectively so." Devin said.
            "Perhaps we need to figure out what they intend to do so that we might deal with them on more favourable ground then. Any ideas on how we might go about doing that?" Durriken said.
            “Waiting for them to come out is wrong,” Bergi said. “Easier for us? You betcha, but waiting is always easy. I reckon it’ll be a sight bloodier for those we’ve spoken to protect though. I volunteered to put myself in harm’s way so others wouldn’t have to. I still aim to do so.”
            “We know where those beasts are now. Holed up and waiting, but for how long?” she continued. “Some folks wanted a day to regroup and have a looksie. That we’ve done. I say to bed early, rest thoroughly and shove off in the predawn. Then we scale the walls and bring an end to Thistletop once and for all.”
            Amrynn smiled at the little one’s turn of phrase and choice of word. She felt the fatigue of the day wearing upon her like a sodden cloak. The rush of adrenalin, the nearness of death; the goblins who willingly assaulted their mortal bodies with the clear intent of freeing their souls from the bodies; had extracted a toll upon her she had hitherto not realised. She stifled a shallow yawn, blushing a faint pink as she caught Devlin’s eye; guilty, I’m afraid her faint smile spoke to his querulous raise of an eyebrow.
            “You are right, Bergi. Sleep on it. Tired minds create tired decisions.”
            Scaling the walls? By either force. Or stealth? Perhaps if they approached the fort from a place the defenders least expected, they could breach the ramparts and be inside before the evil inside even realised. So far from the location of the fort, the warmth of an evening fire, a goblet of wine warming her belly and lightning her mind. It all seemed entirely possible, perhaps even barely an effort, from the safety of the common room of the Rusty Dragon.
            An idea formed from the merging of Bergi’s and Devlin’s thoughts. It was still nebulous, unformed, a barely germinated seed of a thought that yearned for the light of consideration to either grow or die.
            “Is there a place upon the fort or upon which it is built that would be shielded from general view. So that a scaling of the wall might be accomplished? A distraction perhaps to draw the defenders from one side to the other, thusly leaving the point of entry unguarded?” She let the words fall into silence, allowing the rest of her companions to consider and then either concur or reject.
            The Paladin reached out clasping the tiny hand of her new friend She understood Bergi’s frustration and anger at the suggestion that they might face the enemy here. “We should be prepared for them to sally forth and perhaps try to make a symbolic attack of Sandpoint. I stand prepared to stand a watch this night to protect the town”. She turned to acknowledge the Lady Sorcerer with a respectful nod of her head”I am also curious about Amrynn’s point. Is there a third approach that we have not investigated.? Was there not someone on the Watch who knew much about them? Perhaps we could meet with them and discuss if there are also easily reached vantage points from which to observe the fort without going back through the Nettles.”
            Seeing Ameiko near ;Rhaina included her in the conversation”Do you know of such a place, Lady from which we may espy the enemy?”
            Ameiko winced a little at being reminded that she was now Lady Kaijitsu - the thought didn't seem to suit her at all. Bergi knew that she'd much rather have remained an ex-adventurer than take on the mantle of nobility. She answered Rhaina readily enough, though, lingering at her side.
            "I'm afraid I don't really know the hinterlands around Sandpoint that well," she admitted, frowning at being unable to help. "That's really more Shalelu's bailiwick, but I don't know when she'll pass through again. Maybe you could talk to Daviren Hosk, at the stable next door. It's been a long time since he retired, but he used to hunt goblins, and how much could the geography have changed?"
            Bergi smiled at Rhaina. “They’d be fools to come tonight,” she said. “But better if they do. Easier to thin their ranks. I reckon the hate they toss around is still trying to sort itself out with Ripnugget’s passing.”
            The bard took a swig from her mug and drummed her fingers on the table in a fanciful rhythm. “We can talk to Hosk as it suits, but we’ve gone over the wall and back once well enough,” Bergi said. “And Shalelu’s a force to be reckoned with, but her travel is as fickle as the wind. A tower shield or two for the boat and a ladder or two as warranted for the wall, but I still say we need to hit them before they sort out their new melody.”
            Devin nodded, concurring with the alternate route of entry, and resigned to the necessity to breach the fort, "Two boats, two large shields at the bow that we can take with us on the climb, a harness or two, and a wall section that they can't stand atop and pour nastiness upon us, with a staged breach -- archers providing cover for the first climbers, climbers attaining the wall and providing cover for the remainder. Ladders are a strong idea. And some big hats." Devin held his hands out a foot around the side of his head, forming a circle in the air as if he'd donned a small metal shield as headgear.
            With a reckless smile, Devin sat back and summed up, "At the morning, then, we'll be about procurement and construction for the smallest waterborne siege and fortification breach ever attempted, but no less recounted and reverently retold in the future."

44


            The next morning, the town seemed almost empty compared to the market day the day before. Returned to its bucolic pace and sentiment, the Heroes of Sandpoint were recognized by most all the inhabitants of said town, and offered indications of respect and gratitude. The looming threat of a goblin invasion had not, it seemed, reached the rumor mill just yet. Rather, people still spoke of the demon pirate/clockwork/monster army the Heroes had routed from beneath the town, though now the rumors were accompanied by chuckles and smiles. Without fresh rumor to remind them of their tragedies, life was returning to normal for most in the fortnight after the Swallowtail Festival raid and subsequent attacks.
            A trip to Savah's Armory, Vinder's general store and the docks soon garnered them an idea of the cost of their suggested supplies.
            “Two boats, two targets, I get that,” Bergi continued their dialogue in the morning air. “But that also means twice the rowing, twice the fatigue, and twice the chance of being spotted. I say one boat, well protected, and we hit the beach running.” She shrugged, acknowledging that she usually preferred the simplest approach possible. The slight halfling hummed a tune under her breath, her feet tip tapping a fanciful show while the particulars were sorted out.
            "One boat or two will be spotted the same," Devin smiled back. "So humor me two chances for us to get back away from Thistletop when the time comes."
            “We must also consider how much fatigue will be suffered,having only 2 rowers/boat over a 5 hour journey. It would seem to me that we would be better able to protect one boat well. I stand with Bergi on this point, I fear, Devin I do appreciate your caution though and we should listen to how the others feel” Rhaina said.
            “It’s no skin off my palms either way,” Bergi said, waving her hands in the air. “But for the record, when we’re through at Thistletop, I plan on leaving through the front door.”
            "No bridge," Devin reminded with a grin.
            She gave an exaggerated wink to Devin and summoned a lute to hand, strumming it into a dextrous jig. Shuffle-stepping her way around the group, she sang them a ditty to bolster spirits.
Come’s a knock-knock-knockin’ on the goblins’ door,
Interruptin’ their dancin’ and swayin’.
Snarlin’ gums they drop them swinettes to the floor,
Haltin’ their screechin’ and playin’.
“Who comes a call-call-callin’?” the goblins’ roar,
Grabbin’ sticks and spears and stabbies.
But they hear the knock-knock-knockin’ no more,
Only the faintest of cryin’ from babbies.
Curiosity wins and the promise of sweet-sweet-meat,
And Thistletop’s door’s flung wide.
Ere lies a basket of pink, so delicate and neat,
With a matchin’ pink bow so tied.
“MINE-MINE-MINE!” the goblins rout and shout,
Clawin’ and bitin’ for room.
The biggest n’ ugliest finally wins out,
And snatches the basket--ka-BOOM!
When the parts stop flyin’ and the dust settles true,
The heroes of Sandpoint pass through.
One stops at the front door and gestures in kind,
Another replies, “Oh, no-no-no, after you.”

            The elven woman smiled as the bard fell silent, her fingers still tapping rhythm against her thigh as the notes faded into the air about them. Bergi's jaunty little ditty echoed for long seconds in her mind. “You make it sound exceedingly easy, good Bergi,” she observed, a slight smile colouring her words. “At least when attempted in song. If only it were.”
            The same fingers that had tapped, now were raised and bent to rub absently at her lips as she considered. “So,” she muttered. “We consider the benefits of two boats versus just the one.” Again the absent rub of the finger. “Five hours is a long time to be rowing. For any man or woman. And the load shared amongst us all; almost all,” she flung a small wink in Bergi's direction, “sharing within a single cork upon the waves makes for a lesser load upon those tasked with the chore.” She shook her head at the next step in her thinking, not liking the prospect upon which it shed light. “Though we balance that against the possibility of losing the boat altogether from beneath us and not have a spare at our immediate disposal.” She fell silent for a moment or two, brows knitting together slightly.
            “I know that we can well arm and protect ourselves for the excursion. I suppose there is no chance of us employing some Sandpoint locals to carry the load of labour upon the oars? It would make the journey less arduous and the prospect of two boats more likely.” It was a hopeful thought though and its uttering did not carry the weight of true conviction. She was not privy to their discussions before she and Devin had joined their number. She felt the burden of ignorance slouch heavily upon her shoulders in these matters.
            “ I may have another solution” Rhaina pauses,gathering her thoughts.
            “The denizens of Thistletop no doubt are aware of how long a journey it is and when it is they could expect to see us....but. What if we arranged with a fisherman to take us out in the early morning,towing our small boat behind? And then in the pre dawn we disembark into our boat and row swiftly in,while the fisherman returns to port. The light just before dawn is not the best for any eyes and they are not likely to expect us at such an hour. We may have the element of surprise."
            Bergi pursed her lips. She didn’t want to let another day slip by, but she hadn’t thought to seek out a fisherman last night. And she couldn’t really raise too much of a stink about it, seeing as she wouldn’t have to do any of the rowing if they went today. Would the Sea Star still be in local waters? She blew a few stray hairs out of her face and flung her ukulele into the air, dismissing it with a shower of sparks. Best that they were well rested and well prepared for Thistletop. Who knows, maybe the extra day would make the goblins lazy?
            The elf nodded thoughtfully, appreciatively. Let another bear the physical burden of their journey by boat while they held in reserve their energy for more desperate matters. Then disembark and bob the last short haul of their journey to the goblin fort. A grand idea.
            Though requirements and arrangements there were to sort with fishermen and crew before any of this could be accomplished. They had time, and the day stretched before them; ample opportunity to prepare. Who best within their grouping to align these with their needs? She asked it of her friends.
            An early start the next day it would be, before the roosters heralded the rising of the sun, whilst the Sandpoint folk revelled in their slumber. For her part it mattered little. Life in the abbey had trained her well in that regard; up before the lark, to rest afore it’s dark...
            For Amrynn there was another matter of some import to attend to. She needed more appropriate garb; something that would serve her more functionally than the clothes she wore presently. Her current choice of ensemble was not impractical, merely not practical enough. She reminded herself, as they all meandered through the morning air that she must speak to Ameiko in this regard. Perhaps she could help and advise.
            "It does make me wonder what the goblins and their hosts are waiting for, in that fort," Devin ruminated aloud. "/If/ they're waiting for something, and not just trying to huddle and recover. That's neither here nor there, though; they're behind those walls, and save for the plans we can make to try to breach them, things are what they are. Let /them/ wonder and worry how brief their respite may be, so long as we're keeping to good faith and promises made."
            "I've no roots or business in Sandpoint, if we are to embark before dawn. If I can be of use in any of the preparations, say so." Normally, Devin would be inclined to meander about, exchange a few greetings, start building up an understand a rapport with things within and around the town, but the pressure of the goblins and the party's promises to deal with the goblins would tinge any encounter. If he couldn't be seen doing things productive to those ends at present, he thought it best not to be too visible, where visibility might prompt misgivings over their schedule.

45


            Thus it was that the party left Sandpoint in the wee hours of the morning, the captain guiding their mother vessel out of the harbor and into the wet mist with great care. This time, no one came to wave them goodbye; it was far too early even for the baker, and all of the town was fast asleep - much as the party hoped the goblins were.
            The salt-tasting mist that had soaked the ship eased as false dawn approached, painting the sky in purple and pink. Captain Ranali seemed to relax as visibility improved, chewing her pipe as she turned the wheel. The scent of tabac wafted through the air, combating the indelible smell of fish on the cutter. Soon enough, Thistletop hove into view, tiny in the distance, and it was time for the party to prepare their approach.
            On the first leg of the journey, Devin considered distribution within the boat for the approach. Bergi; shield. Amrynn; shield. Durriken, Rhaina, Devin, I'Daiin -- rowing. Made sense to Devin. Four rowers would give the fastest approach and the least exposure. If that gave more rowers than oars, Devin or Durriken could either or both take up a shield to better defend the approach, or Bergi and Amrynn could each hold up two shields.
            At the wall, Devin may not be the best climber, but he was proficient; he could ascend first or second and help secure lines and hold the wall. Planning that far ahead, well, that could wait -- everything would change the moment the goblins caught sight of the approaching craft.
            As they prepared to separate from Captain Ranali, Devin shared his ruminations with the party.
            Amrynn took the proffered shield and felt it upon her arm. Uncomfortable, cumbersome, unwieldy. Such a weight upon her arm was completely outside her ken, and she made to protest that this was such. She relied on her innate, scarcely tutored ability to command the Weave and to construct her wishes from it at will; the shield was a barrier to this such as could not be overcome.
            "Sorry; I'm improvising, here. Frontal assaults aren't usually my thing," Devin smiled apology at noting Amrynn's endeavors and consternation to familiarize herself with the shield. "The shields are only for the approach and scale, to give us all some cover."
            Upon Devin's direction on its use however, not as a barrier per se for her but as a shield to allow them to all safely, with luck, gain a foothold upon the goblin-fort island, she quelled her distaste and anxiety and nodded her understanding and acceptance of its use. For the good of the group. And if she were needed to raise two, then so be it. Still, the sooner her arms were free to wield blade and magic the better.
            She had, with the good graces of Ameiko, donned a pair of more functional leather trousers, tight yet comfortable, perhaps a size too small, and a leather jerkin over a dark coloured blouse of hardy material. Far more practical than the garb she had worn for the previous day's hike to Thistletop. They were not tailored, they were second-hand and they itched. In all the wrong places. But their function might save her life, she conceded.
            “The island looks almost beautiful,” she observed, standing upon the bow of the cutter, hands upon the rail. “In this light and this far away, such that the poison that resides within can not be seen.” The morning mists had settled lightly upon her hair, securely plaited, and her hands felt the cool of the damp morning air. A small shiver overcame her body. Cold? Fear? She couldn't rightly say which it was.
            Her eyes sought out Devin, and as their gaze caught, she sent him a small, nervous smile.
            Devin echoed her smile, having stepped nearer at seeing her shiver, taking it for chill from the morning breeze from the open water. He had no cloak to offer, so settled for proximity; no sacrifice on his part, to be certain. He put an arm around her waist, matching her forward survey of the rough fortification upon the rocky island, considering it in light of her words. "It is," he stated in succinct agreement.
            "Five hours from the town, and so close to the main trade way, once the goblins are driven from the rock someone could likely put it to better use as a stout deepwater dock and settlement or waypoint inn." After he said it, he realized it was probably too practical of a thought on his part, too forward-looking. Months ahead. Not that he was the pioneer type, or that he knew the first bit about the foundational economics of starting a viable town, or of that scale of responsibility. "White marble and stone and arches and courtyards and a lighthouse; commerce and people and learning," he reflected; if you're going to dream, dream big. Something appropriate for the potential beauty of the venue and the ocean mists. Another time.
            Bergi had finally wrestled her shield into a suitable position. There was no way she could carry it, but by propping the tip against the gunwale, she could maintain at least decent cover for the rowers as they approached. But she struggled. The damn thing was taller than she was and weighed almost half as much! “It might look pretty,” she said in frustration, unable to actually see, “but it smells like a baboon’s ass.”
            "We should all prepare the jollyboat. It's time." Devin turned his attention from Amrynn; his hand reluctantly slipped free from her waist; and from the island, to see what Rhaina, Dunrik, I'Daiin, and Bergi were about, as they had been through this process at least once before; he would endeavor to assist as he could, following their direction.
            As they approached the island in their jollyboat, the four of them pulling steadily on the oars, two at the helm with shields raised, the isle's likeness to an enormous head became more and more clear. Though it was listing to one side, the eyes, nose and ears were more than mere fantastic supposition, carved from the stone.
            Their hopes of catching the goblins unaware, however, were dashed as a tiny figure in the high grass atop the head jumped up and down - a sentry! It seemed they had learned from their earlier mistake. The party could hear the sentry's call to alarm even above the crash of waves against the rocks. As they drew in close to the steep, narrow path that marred the giant's face, the first arrows began to fall among them.
            “I’Daiin and I will disembark first. Rhaina said. One of us will hold the rope while the other holds up a shield to cover. Devin,you come third.First handing over the second shield to the holder of the rope and then once on-shore,you take it and add to our cover. The rope holder will assist the remaining in disembarking if needed Bergi and Amrynn next with Father Durriken last”". If we are unable to secure or pull the boat onto the stairs we will be forced to abandon it”
            “But it’s got all our stuff in it!” Bergi shouted, looking down at the ropes, pitons, crowbars, grappling hooks and other sundries. She held her shield as steady as she could as the first heroes planned to make it to shore.
            Rhaina pondered for a moment and turns to face Bergi briefly “Maybe Devin can pound a couple of Pitons into the cliffside while I’Daiin and I give him cover with the larger shields? That might give us time to get everything ready to carry up,but it will also give the enemy time to gather greater strength” She shrugged,going back to what she was doing”Not much of a choice I know ,My Friend”
            "Waste no time; ascend the stairs, mind for sabotage and traps from what they've learned. I'll cross from the boat last, helping people over." Devin was confident in his own dexterity and strength in providing the necessary stabilization and assists. He tied the boat's line to a spike and stuck the spike in his belt; after getting across, he would wedge or stomp it into the hillside. It would have to do. For stabilization, he would grab one of the oars and reach to the bank with it, attempting to wedge or seat the head such that some upward and dragging exertion upon it might keep the boat steadier as people went across to the single track stair.
            Hopes of surprise and subterfuge evaporated at the sight of the bouncing little goblin, all teeth and, even from this distance, flailing arms. Someone up there was learning it would seem. No matter, Amrynn decided, even as the adrenalin began to course through her veins. It was either through the front door or through the back.
            The shield was cumbersome, though it served its purpose well enough. Any of the arrows that began to shower down that strayed in their direction were hopefully effectively blocked by the wooden barriers. In truth she was a little thankful for the shield’s presence. Still, this was the easy part. And she reminded herself that greater challenges awaited them above, should they successfully ascend the precarious stairway.
            The boat rocked alarmingly beneath her feet. First one then another prepared to bridge the gap between craft and shore. Then it was her turn. Judging the time right she tossed the shield to a willing recipient then followed in short order. If she was as nimble as she expected, as agile as her mother had so proudly proclaimed, she would make the distance with ease, albeit lacking good grace.
            The wet stone was devilishly slippery, but Amrynn's prediction proved true - she was able to cling to the island's rocky cliff, tucked in against the weathered nose of the giant's head. Letting out the breath she had held, sucking in a fresh replacement, Amrynn gathered once more the shield she had tossed to the rocky shore. The arrows still fell; a parasol of wood was still a pressing need.
            First I'Daiin, then Rhaina made the jump off the wildly bobbing jollyboat to the precarious perch of the narrow switchback stairs, climbing carefully farther up while shielding those below - but when Devin made to leap across, the boat suddenly dipped in the waves, and his foot just managed to slip on the wet stone before he tumbled into the surging tide.
            Clutching the piton meant to secure the jollyboat with, he was tossed about in the waves crashing into the stone of the island despite his skill at swimming. He barely managed to avoid ending up between the boat and the stone - here his skill stood him in good stead.
            Worse than that, the goblins above targeted the weakest-looking among them that they could see - those still in the boat. Despite Amrynn's valiant efforts to combat the rolling waves and the weight of the shield she held in order to protect herself and Bergi, both of them suffered nicks from goblin arrows.
            “Devin!” Amrynn screamed as she saw him stumble and fall with a splash into the churning sea. Her first reaction was to throw the shield aside and dive in after him. But the dull thudding of arrow head in wood and the sharp pain of a goblin shaft slipping past the edge of the shield and nipping at her flesh caught her short. “Devin!” she called again, desperate to know that he was alright, afraid to look for fear of what she might see.
            "I'm fine; don't mind me; crest the stairs before they can fortify!" Devin waited to climb out of the water until all of the party had made the shore; his attempts to get out of the water would take a moment, as would setting the spike, and he didn't want to slow them down. For his part, he ducked around the boat, put both hands upon its side, and kicked to force the boat as much to the stair for stability as he could while people disembarked.
            The sound of his voice brought calm to Amrynn's fast-beating heart. He was alright. For the moment. One fear abates, yet another rises to fill it place...
            Bergi paled as Devin fell into the drink and was tossed about. She envisioned being squooshed into a fine roseberry jam between the thrashing hull and the unforgiving teeth of Thistletop. Moving to lend aid to her soggy companion, she dropped her shield in the belly of the boat and screeched as an arrow parted her from some of her lifeblood.
            “OW!!” she screamed. “You dirty burglars! You ROTTEN BABY BURGLARS!!” Bergi raised an angry fist upward, Devin forgotten for the moment. Then inspiration struck. Not once, but twice. One of her newfound tricks leapt to mind, and she smiled as she envisioned what would follow.
            “Time for you to shine you little buggers,” she said, starting her incantation.
“Mark the ferry, mark the tide,
Hope you fall on your own horsechopper.
Dance a jig, right over the side,
Though I’d not even pay you a copper.
Shining bright, arrows abide,
Time for a real show stopper!”

            Bergi flung a hand skyward and an arc of glitter raced toward Thistletop. If the fates fancied her as jam, so be it, but she could at least buy her comrades the time to make it topside.
            A veritable explosion of glittering gold puffed around her targets, far above; the slope of the island's "brow" just barely permitted her to target them. The sound of goblin cries of alarm were like sweet music to soothe their worries. Above, the goblins squalled and clamored and carried on; those who spoke their language could hear them shout something about their eyes. The net result was that the rain of arrows stopped.
            Then the spry halfling turned to Durriken and almost leapt into the priest’s arms. “Durriken! Toss me! Throw me over to Thistletop!”
            "Are you sure?" the Pharasmin asked, doubt crossing his face as the boat knocked against the isle hard, then was sucked back by an alarming degree.
            At her nod, Durriken steeled his nerves and lifted Bergi, swinging her back - and just as he threw her, a wave crashed into the side of the boat, tipping it and throwing off the power in his hurl. Bergi sailed in a neat arc into the churning cold water.
            "Rovagug take it!" Durriken cursed in an un-priestly manner as Bergi flailed to the surface. Grabbing the ladder they had brought, he tried the jump himself - and by some miracle, he made it, sailing over Bergi's head, though he wobbled for a few alarming seconds before finding his balance. Then he turned and pushed the boat away from Bergi with the ladder, attempting to prevent it from mashing her just as she had imagined it doing to Devin. On the far side of the boat, Devin also managed to avoid the lurching vessel knocking into him.
            "Those goblins must think we are suicidal," quipped I'Daiin to his fellow Shoanti. "Nothing to do but to climb this ridge." The barbarian grinned. "I'll reach the top first and do my best to knock those fellows back down to the boat."
            Rhaina returned the grin,her voice keen with the excitement of imminent battle “Well thought out Cousin.Save some of them for me will you? I’m going to stay here to help the others get on shore and then I’ll be right up”
            Devin waited to climb out of the water until all of the party had made the shore; his attempts to get out of the water would take a moment, as would setting the spike, and he didn't want to slow them down.
            Mercifully the rain of goblin arrows had ceased. Small mercies. Yet for how long? Surely not very, Amrynn considered. Already I'Daiin had ascended almost to the top of the narrowly hewn stairs. Probably not wise, she absently considered. He's isolated from the rest of the group. Though, she countered, she already had witnessed the sheer brute force he was capable of; the goblins were doubtless little threat to him. What else was up there that was, however? Best that we join him before the drizzle of goblin arrows descended once more.
            “Quickly,” she encouraged all nearby. “We must ascend before the little ones resume their assault.”
            Rhaina stood before her, and Devin still was in the water. So was Bergi. They both counselled safety on their own part and that they would soon exit the churning sea. Yet she held back, to help them out of the churning, heaving sea. She could not in good conscience leave them to their own devices and the mercy of the waves pounding against the rocky shore. Should there be space to do so, she crouched and thrust out a hand for either of them to grab and use as a lever to exit the sea.
            Seeing that there was no room to descend to aid those in the water, Rhaina passed the boat rope to Amrynn and hurried after I'Daiin. Like Rhaina, Amrynn found she was too far from the water to lend any aid, and there was no room to descend with Durriken below, awkwardly balancing the ladder. She managed to squeeze close enough to pass the rope to him, and then followed her own advice and moved after Rhaina.
            Bergi bobbed in the water, gasping and spewing. Her flailing efforts were fueled by the sheer shock of being thrown bodily into the salty waves. She sputtered and muttered her disbelief as she waited for the landing area to clear enough for her to scramble out. “Just move along!” she waved Durriken off and slapped water at him. “I can manage just fine!”
            His position precarious, with both ladder and rope tugging him towards the crashing surf, Durriken had no hope of helping Devin or Bergi. With a remorseful grimace, he let the rope slowly roll out of his hand as he worked his way up, making room for them on the narrow stairs that scarred the giant's face. "Beware the boat!" he called down to those in that cold water; sure enough, on its longer lead the boat proved less predictable in how it bumped and smacked against the island.
            In short order, the churning sea coughed up a ragged looking hairball onto the unforgiving rocks. Bergi shook the worst of the wet off and wiped hair out of her face before crawling from the edge to make room for Devin. She turned and offered her soggy companion what help she could in getting him to dry ground. Arm, scruff, hair, Bergi grabbed a hold of whatever opportunity presented itself.
            Not completely of his own intentions, but none the worse for it, while Bergi made it out of the water Devin went under and came back above the waves more than once.
            "The island's not so beautiful up close, but the head has a mouth, under the water -- and there's a narrow passage. Hard swim, though; upward assault it is."
            Devin tred water long enough for the stairs to clear, so that they had some room to maneuver, then carefully accepted the hand up to try to get out of the treacherous water.
            The cries and splashes at sea level barely registered in I'Daiin's ears as he sprinted up the slope, neglecting to hold the bulky shield aloft once the goblins were coated in their glittering ornamentation.
            As he pounded upwards, the sharp smell of lamp oil assailed his nostrils; it seemed the goblins had doused the upper part of the stairs with it, and had no doubt planned to roast the intruders alive as soon as they stepped into the oil - a plan Bergi's foresight had put a stop to. Indeed, the goblins were rolling about on the ground and rubbing their faces in the mist-dampened dirt in a display of goblin anguish at the coating of glittering dust that had robbed them of their sight. Nearby, torches smouldered where they had been abandoned on the ground.
            Once Devin was safely ashore, Bergi, with slitted eyes, snatched the rope from Durriken and offered it to Devin. Devin, having dragged himself from the icy seawater with Bergi's aid, busied himself with hammering the piton into the hard stone of the island; he had no time just then to accept the rope, necessitating that Bergi retain it until he was done.
            Once at the same level as them, I'Daiin entered his battle trance with scarcely a growl, seeking to push both goblins off the cliff in one hideous show of strength. It proved impossible to shove both goblins (who were still running about and causing a fuss) off the island at once, but he grabbed the nearest and heaved it overhand out into the blue, where it disappeared with a dwindling wail.
            Below, Bergi and Devin saw the screeching goblin slam into the water at terminal velocity, and sink below the waves.
            The last remaining goblin whimpered fearfully, running facefirst into the thistle thicket that surrounded the fort, and rebounding from it with its bulbous head scratched and bleeding.
            Realizing that the group had all managed to land the Paladin hurried her pace eager to join her cousin at the top before all the enemies could be vanquished Her feet slid on the treacherous lamp oil as she raced to the top of the stairs, and for a moment she windmilled, balanced precariously over the long drop to the crashing sea. Then she caught herself by leaning forward, back towards the island, grabbing the oily stone with her hands, and finished her hurried climb.
            Devin’s call of safety from below set Amrynn’s mind at ease, such as was possible with two bow-wielding goblins taking advantage of their position of height. Fortunately Bergi had forced the cessation of their rain of shafts. And I’Daiin was there. The pair of toothed menaces probably had little time left on this plane; the wailing sailing of one of them past her towards its watery grave below confirmed her supposition. And she fully expected the second to follow close behind.
            Ahead of her on the slippery narrow steps moved Rhaina, her lithe athletic form forging ahead, sure and secure of step. Amrynn followed behind, wary of her footfalls, endeavouring to keep up. In her mind the Weave whirled and twisted, a fragment of which she grasped and shaped, creating order out of its chaos; the words came to her and she prepared them for use should they be needed upon her arrival at the top of the perilous, glistening stone staircase.
            Thanks to her more careful advance, Amrynn didn't slip too badly on the oil-slick steps. Below, Durriken laboriously made his way higher, shifting the ladder from one side to another as he navigated the nearly-vertical switchbacks.
            Between ringing blows of the piton, Devin yelled up the trail, "I'm out; I'm good; go!" Devin quirked a grin as the response to his call was a distraught and frantic goblin sailing overhead from on high to crunch into the sea. He grin persisted as he nodded quick acknowledgment of Bergi's request that he carry the coil of rope up the ascent, and he intended to accept it and follow up the trail as soon as the piton bit to moor the jollyboat.
            Bergi scrambled to hold on to the boat rope as Devin finished setting the piton. She braced herself as best she was able and gave the craft what slack she could afford, all the while throwing Devin wild, uncertain smiles to urge him on. “No, I’m fine. Go on, take your time. Make sure it’s set,” she rattled off.
            With sure blows, Devin pounded the piton into the unforgiving stone of the giant's head, then accepted the rope from Bergi and set to tethering the jollyboat - close enough that the tide wouldn't be able to ruin it against the rocky island, but hopefully loosely enough that the tide wouldn't sink it, should their stay on Thistletop draw out.
            Once relieved of the burden of the rope, Bergi began her own ascent up toward Thistletop. She picked her way carefully and watched for raining goblins. The awkward weight of her pack slowed her ascent, but Bergi forged on, her bare feet finding better purchase upon the wet stone than the boots of her companions had.
            The hulking barbarian advanced on the second goblin, his face bent in a hideous scowl. "Quick. Foot. Remember him." he said slowly and clearly in his Shoanti inflection. I'Daiin then hurled the piteous creature toward the edge of the cliff. In a stroke of luck, the goblin's flailing hand caught hold of the bramble thicket, and though it yelped with pain from the wicked thorns, it saved itself an eighty-foot drop to the ocean below. Mewling, it pressed its back against the thicket, blind eyes staring in sightless terror.
            Rhaina surveyed their surroundings and in the interest of speed looked to see if she would be able to reach the wall top,if her cousin boosted her up Failing that she waited for the ladder and drank her potion of Mage Armor Whispering”Speed is of the essence.We should try to get on the wall before reinforcements arrive” The fort's wall wasn't too terribly high, but it would still take a bit of climbing in addition to a boost to get her atop it.
            Amrynn's heart leaped as Rhaina threatened to lose her balance. A lesson learnt on her own part, however; take it slow and steady. Haste makes waste, she muttered to herself – it could well be her life in this case. Suddenly thankful for the decision to let loose the shield back in the jollyboat, Amrynn felt vastly more at ease for its absence as she ascended the treacherous switchback.
            Topping the rise, she spotted I'Daiin bearing down on the remaining goblin. For a moment a pang of pity for the creature tugged at her heart, till she recalled the fate that had befallen Quickfoot as it had been told to her and the remembered conflict of the previous day. It dissolved in a cup of resolve. A quick spy of the area, up down and around, as she took the last of the steps; she hoped she saw only her friends. And the slice upon her skin where the goblin's arrow had nicked, she noted absently, stung something fierce.
            Standing on the cusp of the drop, Amrynn scanned the surroundings for any sign of enemy activity. The preternatural sharpness of her senses served her well: a bit of movement caught her eye at the top of the westerly tower. Whatever it was stilled before she could identify it, but the story was clear before her eyes. Something awaited their assault.
            Below, Durriken made his slow way up the precarious stair. His companions were too far off to see the sweat beading his brow as he balanced the ladder with his hands, relying on his feet to find the path. His pace slowed further as he crossed onto the oiled steps; a fall from this height might introduce him to Pharasma in a more immediate manner than he wished.
            Bergi knew her voice was needed, or soon would be. She could almost hear the goblin warchanters warming up their drums to pound out their wicked drivel of teeth and hunger. She clung to the rock face though and didn't think she could spare any fingers or toes for an instrument. Not without risking a plunge into the chop below, and she didn't fancy her soggy state as it was. She kept her mind focused on the climb, traveling only as fast as safety would allow. She had confidence in the vanguard's ability to hold the line. Though she worried about Durriken and that ladder.
            With the jollyboat secured, all ashore, and all ascending, Devin began advancing up the trail while being careful not to crowd Bergi's own adept progress. The path could abide only a single-file progression; so be it. Devin looked up towards the top of the path and took satisfaction in seeing I'Daiin cross the curve, Rhaina and Amrynn just behind. For significant effort but little cost, it appears they'd manage to establish the bulwark to the fort; now they needed only to breach it.
            I'Daiin, low on energy, drew his longsword and swung at the goblin. "A few more seconds to remember the elf," he said more to himself than anyone else. Even as the shimmering sparkles faded from the creature's green-tinted skin, and it blinked its eyes, its expression turning to relief, I'Daiin spitted it and booted the body off his sword, onto the ground.
            Amrynn couldn’t help but entertain a bleak yet very real thought; that her hasty assertion to assault the wall might yield them greater success than engaging the fort across the bridge may in fact result in them perishing upon the points and blades of the fort’s defenders. A brief and shallow wash of depressed futility that followed in its wake was swept aside with purpose. Not yet were they in trouble. Not yet were they beat back. Not yet would she harbour thoughts of defeat. She raised her voice. “Beware!” she called, a hale voice as much to bolster her own will as it was to ensure the warning reached all, I’Daiin and Rhaina in particular. “The walls are manned!”
            The barbarian, still breathing hard, raised a fist as if to confirm that the message was understood, although he had not bothered to communicate Shoanti war-semaphore to anyone. It seemed obvious enough. "Of course they are ready!" he shouted. "Blasted goblins could take on Belkzen," he said, half in disgust, half in sheer amazement at the resistance Thistletop had shown to their repeated assaults.
            Rhaina resolutely approached the bit of wall that offered shelter from the tower's sight and began to climb - swiftly at first, but then she slipped on a loose chunk of wood, and caught herself by one arm before falling back to the ground.
            "You're damn right, we're ready!" a horrible and familiar (to most of them) voice crowed. It was followed by an arrow that punched through Amrynn's chest with deadly accuracy. It missed her heart, but she could taste blood on her breath as she looked down at the black shaft of the arrow.
            "I know a she-elf when I smell one! You should've learnt from the last elf that came here," Bruthazmus gloated from atop the western tower. They could almost feel his oily smile in his voice as he crooned, "Or didn't your new friends tell you about that? This is a tasty treat! Makes climbing all the way up here at the ass-crack of dawn worthwhile, to see an elf get spitted and ready for the roast."
            Jubilant cheers and jeers at Amrynn and the other Heroes sounded from a few goblins as they popped up over the ramparts of the two towers and shot at Amrynn as well, but their arrows fell well short of the (un)fortunate elf.
            Shock. No pain. Not yet. It would come, she didn’t doubt it. Yet for the moment Amrynn had simply observed with a detached manner as if what was happening to her was some other person, someone who looked and felt like her, but wasn’t.
            She saw herself stumble backwards with the force of the bolt. Saw her legs buckle. Tasted the blood. Saw the thick black shaft thrusting from her chest. Heard the gloating call.
            She tried to speak; could not; no air in her lungs. She tried to breath. Could not. Panic. Desperately she looked around… Safety. She had to reach safety.
            The oiled stairs. They were the closest she could think that offered shelter. Crawling, heart beating fast, too fast, dragging herself bodily across the ground, seeking their succour.
            Bergi heard Devin coming. His longshanks caught him up to her careful crawl in no time. The soggy pair jockeyed for position on the narrow switchback, and ultimately Bergi yielded passage to the swifter half-elf. “Go!” she yelled above the surf. “Help Durriken if you can. I’ll be along in short order.”
            The narrow trail was treacherous enough, but understanding Bergi's intent, Devin set out to move past her on the path, settling for a hands-and-feet scramble if need be to make it a partial climb to bypass Bergi at the next switchback and cut the corner where there was just slightly more room. The perilous drop made it a hair-raising endeavor, but thanks to Bergi's short stature, Devin was able to more or less climb over her and pass her on the stair.
            "Durriken; I will aid with the ladder," he called ahead, that Durriken not feel impelled to rush and risk himself too much with the burden. Durriken, who had slowed to an inching crawl on the oiled steps, glanced down at Devin gratefully. "All right. I'll wait here for you!"
            Though he could not see beyond the crest of the hill and peak of the trail, the called taunt and the whistle of the black bow chilled Devin as it came broken upon the wind. He desperately hoped that was not Amrynn's clipped cry and gasp that followed. But he knew it very well could be. Quickfoot's death at Bruthazmus' hand came to Devin's fore; a connection to Amrynn's lineage that Devin had not connected and had not associated with an intrinsic danger of Bruthazmus' focus and possibly his bow's enchanted purpose.
            "Durriken," Devin spoke quickly, succinctly, clearly. "We will get this ladder to the top, but once there, I break to aid Amrynn."
            "Don't worry, I - there she is! Amrynn, are you alright?" Durriken called up to the elf, craning his neck in an effort to not lean back so far he fell off the stairs.
            I'Daiin waited for the opportunity to shield Devin and Durriken, still panting with temporary exhaustion. "Fire blast it, cousin, where did you go?" he muttered.
            Finding her footing on the wall once more, Rhaina pulled herself up far enough to raise only her head above the wall. Below, the empty yard in the fort offered no threat... though the shack in the corner still stood.
            "There are no defenders in the yard!" she called back to I'Daiin.
            "Good! Hold for the ladder!" he yelled.
            A moment later, Bruthazmus roared in fury as I'Daiin caught one of his thick black arrows on his shield. "Bald Shoanti filth! Your mother was a whore!" His curses and insults were not improved by the goblins shooting at Rhaina's head, but failing to strike her as she ducked behind the wall. He turned to threatening to throw the goblins at her if they didn't use better aim. His mood did seem to improve (very slightly) when two more goblins joined him on the towers, shoving the others aside for a better position.
            I'Daiin winced as the arrow turned the shield with a jolt, then steadied it. Devin and Durriken will be here in a moment, he thought, or prayed. Distract. He grinned in the shade of the shield.
            "A whore? Ho, fleabag, we Shoanti do not have such things! I'Daiin Womanson cares little for who my mother brings to her tent. But tell me!" The Shoanti bellowed toward the fort. "Is it true that bugbears have naught between their legs? That your Mashy-Tu Mother makes new bugbears by rolling a hobgoblin eunuch in the dungpile? That's what the goblins told me, Brother Dung Heap! We shall find out when I stick you and nothing but privy juice flows out!"
            Bruthazmus howled with outrage, flinging an unlucky goblin in I'Daiin's direction. Of course, it came nowhere near him, but that was one less goblin to deal with.

46


            The edges of sharp rock steps pinched and dug at Amrynn’s back. The smell of the salt air was sharp in her nostrils. The breeze upon her skin was cool and it tugged at the loose strands of her dampened hair. Sensations and feelings were clearer and sharper, focused into clarity the likes of which she had rarely, if ever, experienced. A bugbear’s arrow assaulting one’s chest did that to a person.
            Amrynn’s name drifted to her ears from upon the crash of the waves below.
            She pulled her hand away from her body, where it had rested against the dark length of wood that thrust from her chest. It was damp, her own blood mixing and mingling with salt-laden moisture and the oil that was lathered upon the stone stairs.
            It returned her, slowly, unwillingly, to the present, to the dire nature of her situation. Her whole body shuddered.
            Looking down she saw Durriken, Bergi and Devin, dear Devin, slowly making their way up the switchback, a one careful step at a time. Concern and exertion painted their faces in broad dark strokes. She had some moments before her presence upon the steps became their dilemma. She realised quickly the problem she posed her companions if she remained where she was.
            Drawing the chaos toward her once more she held it tight, rearranging eddies and swirls to her own will, prying the arcane words from its ever-shifting fog. Casting the words to the sea breeze, she felt and saw their effect almost immediately.
            A mist rose from the nearby ground, coalescing quickly into a thick dense cloud, tall and broad. Where it did not rest upon Thistletop’s rank ground, it tumbled down the cliff to the waiting sea-maw below. Yet it would provide her cover to move from here to there. Bushes were not far away. The bushes would be There...
            Though a steady breeze blew, Amrynn found that the little corner of the fort lay in the lee of the fort itself. It would grant her magic a few moments more of concealment before thinning.
            Devin took heart and satisfaction at hearing hints of Amrynn's voice twist purposefully arcane. She was badly hurt; the fleeting glimpse of Amrynn at the crest of the hill had all too clearly showed her clutching at her chest; but she had a grit and inner reserve under pressure. The rising fog promised an opportunity to get the ladder to the wall.
            "Amrynn, wait where you are! Let Pharasma heal you!" Durriken's voice was muffled by the fog, but the urgency in it could not be mistaken. "Blast this ladder!"
            Bergi shivered at the rasp of Bruthazmus’s voice. Gods, how could she have forgotten the wickedness of that thug? He, and that bow, must be dealt with first. The gist of the conversation from above reached her over the roar of the surf below. “We can tend to Amrynn if she’s hurt,” Bergi hollered up as she continued her climb. “The best aid you can give is getting that murdering hobgoblin off the wall!” She picked her way along the treacherous switchback, trying to keep an eye at the ready should one of her comrades take a fall.
            As they climbed, Devin yelled up, "Amrynn! Stay completely in cover! His bow; his arrows; they can seek and curve!" Though he didn't know if she had intended the fog for her benefit or theirs, he did not want her trusted her life to thin concealment if offered. It wouldn't be enough.
            Above Bergi, Devin disappeared into the mist. With Devin's aid, Durriken navigated the oily steps with more surety. Every slide of the foot put his heart in his throat, but the ladder no longer was such a burden that he feared to make the turns of the switchback.
            On the towers, the rising mist had not gone unremarked. Bruthazmus was cursing so loudly and fiercely that the goblins were edging away from him. The commandos took shots at Rhaina's head, but she was too canny for them, and the arrows lodged in the wall of the fort.
            I'Daiin did little but wait, his fatigue gradually lessening. His fingers itched for a ladder.
            Bruthazmus fired again at I'Daiin, but neither he nor his goblins could hit their targets (though one arrow did bounce off Rhaina's invisible armor as she poked her head up to peek again at the yard). Oddly, more goblins didn't swarm onto the towers or out of the fort.
            Devin’s words touched her ears above the rushing of the blood and the crashing of the waves and the howling boasts and hurled insults of both friend and foe alike. 'Amrynn! Stay completely in cover! His bow; his arrows; they can seek and curve!' The comforting claustrophobia that accompanied the shrouding mist would provide her with such. Make use of it, Amrynn.
            Cover. Suitable concealment. Her recollection, before the assault of her body so brutally by the thick black shaft and her conjuring of the arcane mist had stolen focus of her environment and drawn it to simple survival, was of bushes to her right and to her left. Both offered what she needed, though their destination was the fort. The growth to the left abutted the fortifications; seeking safety amongst its foliaged embrace made sense to her. And if she was to seek help and assistance from her companions, she needed to be close to them.
            When she judged the time to be right, with a deep preparatory breath, she dragged herself into a crouch, stepped from the switchback and crab-ran, as fast as she was able, abominable injuries accommodated, in the direction of the fort, letting the mist obscure her movement, praying it was enough.
            “Mist, good girl,” Bergi smiled to herself as she climbed. If Amrynn had wits about her enough to obscure her location, then she had a good chance of getting help, provided they could find her. One hurdle at a time though.
            Bergi continued to pick her way along the slick rocks, cursing the wily goblins and inwardly promising them all a mouthful of butter in return. With any luck, her tiny legs might get her to the top in time to still have a goblin or two to shoot at!
            Notes and motes danced in her head as she concentrated, fighting to cross her lips, to bring song and succor to her friends, but the climb was just too demanding. And she would soon be picking her way through an obscuring mist across slope, slickened rocks. “One hurdle at a time,” she murmured.
            Bergi steadily approached the thick mist above her, being steadily blown from the giant's face by the sea breeze. Inside the fog, Devin and Durriken finally cleared the top of the stairs with the ladder.
            "Amrynn! Where are you?" Durriken hissed, his voice muffled by the fog.
            "Durriken! This way!" hissed I'Daiin. He strained to see the ladder-bearers in the mist, holding his position.
            Seeing that she was the only member of the group that could be targeted by the archers,Rhaina kept her head down and only peered over swiftly once to ensure that no one entered the courtyard while her comrades gathered
            "Stop shooting! Save it for when they come out of that fog," Bruthazmus snarled at his goblin minions, displaying the low cunning that bugbears were known for.
            The goblins struck up a mocking chant, but those who could hear it were spared the meaning, as it was in their own tongue. No doubt it was more meant to boost their own morale than to lower that of their enemies.
            The mist made progress across the uneven ground precarious. Worse, Amrynn feared a fatal miscalculation in direction, it would be easy to lose complete sense of direction in the uniform pearly grey through which she forged, and tumble off the edge and plummet to the crashing waves and craggy rocks below.
            She heard Durriken's voice behind her. And then I'Daiin's to her left. “Here,” she gasped. “Ahead Durriken.” She angled her steps towards I'Daiin's deep voice. She had a hand about the bugbear's shaft that protruded from her chest; it felt strange, worse actually; a profound violation of her mortal being. “I move to I'Daiin,” he voice hissed, strain and stress lacing its timbre. And the beginnings of anger. Anger at the bugbear, anger at the wound she suffered. Mostly, anger at herself for having stupidly allowed it to have happened in the first place.
            "Here!" Devin replied, equally suppressed. Though the fog played tricks with sound even it provided cover from arrows -- a fair trade-off, considering just a moment again a low whistle and spray of rocks announced that a shaft had impacted within mere feet. Devin helped Durriken guide the ladder more or less inland and away from the cliff edge, heading towards (they hoped) I'Daiin's call.
            Though he had to concentrate on footing and following sounds and carrying a ladder and not stepping off the edge of the plateau, Devin still called out what competed for his top of mind, "Amrynn?!" If all he knew was that she was conscious and still about, he could focus these last few moments on getting the ladder into position so they could take the fort.
            Amrynn came upon the ruin of the goblin's rowboat, and following it around, Durriken suddenly appeared from the mist. "Amrynn!" he said, relief evident in his voice, before concern at her state overtook his face. "By Pharasma's judgement, that looks terrible! Wait here for Bergi to join us, and I'll pray for Pharasma to heal you both."
            The cleric hauled the ladder in the direction I'Daiin had spoken from - and within moments, he found the Shoanti at the edge of the mist, looming over the downed goblin. Likewise, Devin came upon Amrynn, one end of the awkward collapsed ladder held in his hands.
            Devin faltered with the ladder at seeing the crime of the bolt stuck through Amrynn's chest. He could not free his hands from the ladder without fouling Durriken, however much he might wish to, and resteadied himself.
            "Durriken; I've got the ladder; help Amrynn," Devin spoke low but urgent, hoping his words could reach the party but not the foes. "I'Daiin, Rhaina; grab an end; tell me where to go with it."
            "Here," said the barbarian in a deep growl. A firm hand grasped the ladder. "Walk with me toward Rhaina. Rhaina, steady the end, and I'll go over the wall, then you, then Devin and Durriken. Tsst, is that Amrynn? I'll cut out that blackhearted bugbear's tongue for that." Waiting to make sure that Devin was ready, he began to move through the mist towards the other Shoanti.
            Angry words mumble tumbled from her as she bent to the task of climbing once more. Her anger prevented her from realizing that she had reached the summit until she was a few steps away from the edge.
            “Woo hoo!” she crowed then slapped her hands over her mouth when she remembered what awaited her. Then she spent a few healthy moments sputtering and wiping the nastiness of the oil from her mouth.
            Devin spared a quick glance over his shoulder at Bergi's exclamation, but was thwarted by the fog. That hadn't sounded like any signal he knew.
            The Paladin spoke in a tone to carry only to her comrades “Hsst,I’m up here,at the top of the wall. The courtyard is clear,too clear. It’s a trap If I was a betting lass I’d say the beast in the shed is meant to keep us busy while the archers and spell casters finish us. I can determine that, if you hand me something to throw on the roof of the shed to see if the beast is there.”
            Devin's first thought was to heed Rhaina's caution and assessment of the situation; they could crest the wall elsewhere, land someplace else than inside the courtyard. Too many immediate tasks demanded attention; Amrynn, the ladder, a stone tossed up to Rhaina, retribution upon the bugbear.
            The sight of Durriken emerging from the mist filled Amrynn with hope. If any there were within their group who could help her most, right now, it was he. She nodded at his instruction to wait, for the arrival of the perky Halfling. Waiting she could do. She lowered herself to the ground, seeking the embrace and obscuring security of the branches and twigs of the bush.
            Devin’s obvious dilemma, to continue with the ladder wrestling with his clear desire to drop it and attain her side, gave birth to a wan smile. Dear Devin. “I go nowhere, Devin,” she assured him, waving him onwards with his burden. “Go. Go!” she whispered, insistently, urging him to continue, the anger that bubbled deep within her, heated by own careless stupidity, lacing her tone with urgency.
            Devin considered a plea that she stay in cover, or hold strong; Durriken would be there in a moment; but words would add little she did not already accept. He felt as if the bolt were lodged in his own chest, and wished it so in her stead. He nodded to Amrynn with only the briefest hesitation and his efforts returned to focus to get the ladder in place as expediently as possible, his brow furrowed.
            The moment I'Daiin broke from the mist, Bruthazmus was ready. "NOW!" the bugbear roared, suiting action to word and firing at the hulking Shoanti. I'Daiin weathered the barrage of arrows from Bruthazmus and his minions, suffering minor nicks as his tough hide turned aside the worst of the arrows' damage. He paused short of the wall, however; Rhaina would have to move so that he could place the ladder.
            The mist caught the stray light of dawn, turning it to a glowing pink cloud that the wind steadily ate away at. In that haze, Durriken closed his eyes and bent his head, praying to Pharasma. The cool wind that touched them in the depth of the fog lifted their pains away. Amrynn could feel her body rejecting the dark arrow, slowly pushing it out in a painful heave.
            "Where are they?!" Bruthazmus snarled, launching a second volley at I'Daiin. "ORIK! LYRIE! GET MOVING YOU LAZY SODS!" His fury turned to glee as his shot took I'Daiin full in the chest, punching deep through his tough hide. Perhaps unnerved by his bestial descriptions of what he was going to do with I'Daiin's tattooed skin, none of the other goblins came close to hitting the warrior this time.
            The panting warchanter the party had seen in their previous battles appeared at the edge of the far tower, shooting Bruthazmus nervous looks as he crowed and gloated.
            "Moh tshamek dungpile!" I'Daiin spat blood, his chest oozing a deep red. "Rhaina, can you move and heal? I must place this ladder, now!" He grimaced at the black shaft grating against his rib bones.
            “Bring something for me to throw onto the shed roof,Cousin.Pause just below the wall top while I see if they’ve set the trap” ?If they mean to use the beast against us it might react to something hitting the roof?Rhaina said.
            "Hands full; ladder;" Devin explained to Rhaina's repeated request for something to throw. He realized none had responded to her first request, so it had been reasonable for her to repeat it. "Break driftwood out of the wall, or toss a coin?" Devin suggested as he moved (expediently?) with I'Daiin to get the ladder set. Inwardly, Devin knew that breaching the outer wall to gain the courtyard was going to increase the danger to the party -- beast, tower view, no cover, and potentially-barred exits -- but they were committed to fighting their way in, and thus far, it was either this, the front gates, or the submerged passageway; the alternatives would likely pose an even greater challenge. He felt distinctly out of his element in undertaking this frontal assault but had no better answer, and tried to keep his head about him.
            Only now did he realize that the edge of the mist, while caught by the wind, wasn't dissipating nearly at the rate it seemed when he and I'Daiin first came to the edge of it and stepped clear; his first call to Amrynn for its renewal was perhaps a bit hasty.
            Bergi stutter stepped through the fog toward the nearest voices. She barely started moving before almost stumbling on Amrynn and Durriken. Her big eyes flew wide at the sight of Amrynn, and the halfling’s face darkened upon seeing the black arrow propped up against her. Bergi kicked it away and nodded for Durriken to move forward, aiding the menfolk.
            Bergi reached a hand out to comfort the wounded elf. Lilting tones slipped from the diminutive figure and a song of soothing and rejuvenation wove its way into Amrynn’s heart.
            With a grateful look and smile to the Halfling, Amrynn counted herself lucky to have such generous folk as friends. “Thank you, Bergi,” she spoke, accepting Bergi’s hand to arise.
            “Mind that bugbear,” she warned. “He’s full of hate but has a special kind just for elves.” As she helped Amrynn to her feet she said, “I’m thinking he’s the keystone. He goes down, the goblins falter.”
            Bergi then unslung her shortbow and turned to face the sounds of battle.
            Together, I'Daiin and Devin placed the ladder against the wall as Rhaina climbed out of the way; I'Daiin went up it, pausing just below the top. Rhaina broke loose a chunk of wood from the wall and tossed it onto the shack. Within, something lurched about, though nothing slammed the walls the way it had the last time they had climbed onto the shack.
            Durriken's quiet prayers, and Rhaina's faith, left Amrynn with nothing but a pale patch of skin beneath the hole where the arrow had pierced her, and I'Daiin's body expelled the thick black shaft of Bruthazmus' arrow just as the elf's had done.
            Hearing Amrynn's strengthened voice and seeing another patch of fog begin to form for cover during their ascent nevertheless brought him a grim smile. Echoing Bergi's sentiments regarding Bruthazmus, Devin concurred, but with caution, "That bugbear dies, but mind for that shapechanging human warrior and the wizard -- Bruthazmus just called for Orik and Lyrie who've yet to step into the fight."
            A thick mist billowed out from where Rhaina clung to the wall, crawling outward as well as over the top of the wall, and spilling into the yard of the fort. Bruthazmus snarled angrily, ordering his goblins to hold once more. However, the fog also kept Rhaina from keeping up her watch over the shack and yard.
            Bergi could hear the ocean behind her and voices in front. She picked her way through the fog toward those voices, trying to stay close to Amrynn. The halfling didn’t care at all for the change in the elf’s mien after Bruthamus’s arrow pierced her. Pharasma could heal the flesh, but it was bards who healed the soul.
            One hand pinching a nocked arrow around her bow, Bergi lead with her free hand extended in front of her. If she could stay close enough to Amrynn, she would give her a little boost of resistance against whatever awaited outside the fog. If the elf slipped away, she’d lay a hand on Devin or Durriken. She wasn’t picky at this point.
            Though burdened by all she carried, Bergi was fleet enough to stay with Amrynn, and the brush of her fingers against her new friend imparted a touch of magic to her, weighing the odds just a bit more in her favor.
            Amrynn's chest felt raw, tender, fragile; violated. The gruesome echo of the black shaft extracting itself from her flesh curled inside her mind, twisting itself about the relief she felt upon her release from its grip. The arrow was gone, yet its reflection remained; the memory of the shaft would be with her for the rest of her life; that she had no doubt.
            The mist thickened about her, protecting, obscuring, disguising. Morning's sun dimmed within its protective cloak. They were safe within its embrace. For that she was thankful. Yet she well knew that if their foes could not see them, then the obverse was true.
            Silently vowing to wield greater caution she followed the muffled sounds of exertion towards the ladder and the ingress it provided to the fort. Her turn to ascend the ladder would arrive soon enough and with it she would step fully into the citadel's maw.
            Even as she walked, she could feel Pharasma's subtle power flow through her, distancing her once more from Her grey realm. Likewise, I'Daiin found himself strengthened from within.
            Rhaina whispered for her friend’s benefit “I’m going over the wall and dropping to the shed roof.It still has the beast within.I will move to the door leading to the front of the fort and await enough of you before opening We must strike quickly”
            "I wanted to go first," grumbled the other Shoanti in reply, and followed the paladin up the ladder, ignoring the dull throb of pain in his ribs from the bugbear's arrow.
            Unwounded, Rhaina was the first to crawl over the wall and onto the shed; something moved in the darkness below, but no thumps accompanied it this time. Dropping off the shed, she found the door still boarded, though eaten by Devin's acid, and the dead goblins were gone. Then she ran for the door she knew to be in the far corner of the yard, out of the mist.
            "Now!" Bruthazmus roared again as she burst from the fog, and a barrage of goblin arrows fell all around her, many finding their mark despite her magical armor - among them, one of Bruthazmus' thick arrows, which hit with enough force to make her stumble. However, the goblins were not quick enough to respond again when I'Daiin stepped out of the mist behind her, and together the two Shoanti hurried to the dubious shelter of the wall, where they were out of sight of one tower, and only one archer had a clear view of them from the other.
            "Go!" Bruthazmus yelled from somewhere above, and the goblin chants grew fragmented as they scrambled away.
            The Shoanti were joined within moments by Devin, then Amrynn, who had negotiated the jump from the shed as agilely as either Shoanti - but when it came Durriken's turn, there was a terrible clatter as the priest, awkward in his armor, slipped when attempting to climb down and landed with a crash. They could just barely see him at the edge of the mist, groaning as he sat up.
            Rhaina drew her greatsword,while praying for the Dawnflower’s healing touch “Cousin,I’m gonna see if I can make out anything through the crack of the door.Think you can open this?”
            There was indeed a crack between the doorframe and the door, but through it Rhaina saw only darkness - that, and some sacks and crates piled against the door, from what she could make out.
            While she was hidden from view from the towers, I'Daiin and the others were not - at least, not from the east tower. The archer in the tower pulled off an incredibly lucky shot, its arrow punching deep into Devin's flesh.
            "Let me try first without the trance. I want to save that for crushing the bugbear's head." I'Daiin measured the door and gave it an experimental shove.
            It was too crowded with Rhaina in the corner for I'Daiin to have a good angle on the door, and his first shove did little. Fury filled his gaze as he slammed on the door again, but it didn't budge.
            Tucked against the wall and waiting for Rhaina and I'Daiin's success with the door, Devin reached over his shoulder and pulled his shortbow from its sheath, then adjusted the position of his quiver to ensure it was clear and ready. The shadows deepened briefly about Devin as his eyes clouded over; like ink borne through the air, the shadows pulled to him and coalesced in a series of smoke-toned sigils that settled upon his arms, hands, and the shortbow, before fading as quickly as they had appeared.
            He winked confidently to any who had caught notice of the succinct display and nocked an arrow to string.
            The relief Amrynn felt reaching the relative safety of the wall was tempered with the sight and sound of Durriken toppling clumsily from the shed roof. Her heart leapt for him; he appeared not to be seriously injured, though his movements were slow and groggy. ‘Come on,’ Durriken she silently willed him. ‘Get up. Quickly.'
            Their exit from here was through the door both Shoanti assaulted, combined. No progress for the rest unless they made the same with the wooden portal. The comforting obscurement of the mist, its edges swirling and broiling mere feet yonder, seemed far far away
            Back to the rough wall, she let her mind wander through the Chaos, seeking fragments of order that might help them. She knew not what she was looking for; circumstance had always dictated the clarity of the incantation she plucked from the swirling energies. The moment would come, and she would be ready.
            In the meantime she pulled the longsword from its scabbard, belted to her hip, the long blade swishing free of its confinement. Sometimes a good blade was what was needed.
            Durriken grunted as he rose from the dirt, but hesitated, squinting into the mist above his head. "Bergi? Are you there?"
            Bergi couldn’t see the ground from the top of the shed. She crawled over the front of the ragged structure, choosing to climb down the door face and the cross boards rather than risk the drop into all that…nothingness.
            The damp wood was slippery, and she lost her footing - but rather than a hard landing on the packed dirt of the yard, she found herself caught in Durriken's arms. He set her down gently in the thinning mist, a smile creasing his bearded face. "Good thing I stayed behind!"
            When the ground finally solidified beneath her, she let out the breath she had been holding. She knew the fog kept the arrows at bay, but the unnerving side notes she could do without. All the same, her morbid curiosity overcame her. She couldn’t pull away from the door and instead sought out a crack in the woodwork. Peering an eye into the darkness beyond, she sang a lilting refrain to soothe whatever beast resided within and to illuminate one of the boards she was touching.
            The warm glow of the board lit up the interior of the shack, revealing a large, black animal - a horse! There were cuts in its hide, and it struggled to its feet in alarm as its prison was lit, blowing and pawing the earth. Even from the poor vantage of the crack in the boards, Bergi could see the horse's ribs, and the caked spittle around its mouth. The nailed-shut door suggested that it hadn't been fed or watered for some time. Bergi recalled from Shalelu's briefing that goblins had a particular hate of horses, just as they did of dogs.
            With a burst of energy, the stallion kicked the doors with a loud thump, shaking the shed. Then, its strength spent, it lay back down, nearly collapsing as it regarded the glowing board with a large, dark eye.
            Near spun into the cover he was trying to get behind, Devin reached over his shoulder and pulled his shortbow from its sheath. He frowned in concentration, consternation, and frustration -- the shadows deepened briefly about Devin as his eyes clouded over; like ink borne through the air, the shadows pulled to him and coalesced in a series of smoke-toned sigils that settled upon his arms, hands, and the shortbow, before fading as quickly as they had appeared.
            He nocked an arrow to string, steadied aim at the east tower goblins, and sent it back in pointed reply.
            Though the arrow thunked into the railing of the tower, the goblin ducked back - it had gotten the message. These adventurers were no toothless prey!

47


            “Durriken,Bergi.Stay in the mist until we get this gate open” Durriken we need Pharasma’s touch,if you please. Bergi What did you see? I’Daiin it’s time for you to show these monkeys why you shouldn’t anger a Sklar-Quah Warrior.Open this Gate!” Rhaina said.
            I'Daiin's response was a look of pure, unfiltered savagery. Drawing back, he pummeled on the door as if it were Bruthazmus in front of him, instead of mere planks of wood. The barbarian's mighty thews flexed and his shoulders bulged with the effort, and for a moment it looked as if the Shoanti could break down the gates of Hell itself, were they in front of him.
            "Hold in the fog, if you can; we're exposed out here," Devin called caution to Durriken and Bergi. A quarter of his attention willed and cheered for Rhaina's and I'Daiin's success in penetrating the door to the fort of the interior; three quarters drew another arrow to string and renewed his sighting upon the tower.
            The Shoanti had struck difficulty with the door out of the courtyard. And every second it took for them to force open the portal, was a second they were all exposed to the bugbear and his minions. Memory of the black shaft penetrating deep within her chest was fresh and raw in her mind. She had arcane protection now; against the black shafts she prayed to Desna it would be enough.
            Devin's quick grin, plastered upon his mien to provide her assurance he was alright, reduced not an iota the anxiety she felt for his safety. “Are you injured badly?” she asked of him hastily. “Should we fetch Durriken?”
            "Been better; been worse," Devin replied tersely, his attention on his activity. "No, don't call him out of concealment."
            Blow after blow, the Shoanti hammered against the door, and the boards splintered and shook as whatever was behind them was pushed inexorably back. With a final kick, the door fell off its hinges, revealing collapsed crates and sacks, as well as beady red eyes looking out from the dark. A heavy black shaft shot out of the shadowed interior of the fort, just missing the powerful barbarian as he drew back from the door opening. The cursing that followed could only come from Bruthazmus.
            Not one to let an opportunity go to waste, Devin was the first to rush inside - and he was met by a pack of desperate goblins. In typical goblin fashion, they were so busy trying to attack Devin with their dogslicers and horsechoppers that they mainly got in each other's way, failing to so much as scratch the agile half-elf.
            The warchanter, who had held herself in the background, pointed at Devin in a panic with her wand - and a cloth fell down from the ceiling, obscuring the goblins and Bruthazmus from his view.
            "Three goblins, warchanter, and Bruthazmus!" Devin yelled loudly at his first glance, reporting to all outside what waited within, but he didn't stop there -- literally. Halting at the first step inside the door would be a Bad Thing, surrounded by three goblins and blocking entry of his compatriots. Still moving, Devin planted a foot, changed direction, and sprang eastward, pulling his shortbow in close and intending to blow past the goblin to the east and tumble out into the eastward hallway.
            The heavy whack of a horsechopper butt to the stomach brought Devin up short as the air went out of him. Even winded, however, he was able to avoid the uncoordinated attacks of the goblins behind the curtain.
            Amrynn felt so... so, naked. The edge of the mist was over there. She was over here. The sorcerous armour protection she had cast upon herself, bugbear shaft-memory etched in greater detail with Devin's wound before her eyes, was good, but that she needed it at all underlined her vulnerability. Yet, she could do nothing but wait till Rhaina and I'Daiin opened the door. A sitting duck upon water she was, back to the wall. She plucked the necessary fragments of the Chaos to her and formed the words she needed. Before her, swirling eddies of magical force quickly coalesced into a barrier that hovered in front of her, adding to the arcane armour she had already conjured for herself. Again, she prayed it would be enough.
            Bergi snapped back when the door was hammered. A horse! She never imagined that such a beast would be trapped here. That story alone would be worth the rescue. She didn't know how she'd talk to the horse, but that would come. Maybe they'd garner the favor of a druid somewhere down the road. Her mind raced with possibilities, but none of them included the horse being locked up in a shed. Yet there was little she could do against the boarded up doorway.
            Durriken had his back to the shack, and was watching the misty outline of the towers warily. "Bergi, come on!" he hissed. "Whatever is in there, it isn't going to bother us! It can't get out."
            Bergi recalled Shalelu's teachings and turned to Durriken. "There's a horse in here," she said quietly. She wanted to yell to the others, but without alerting the goblins. She thought about it and switched to an Elven dialect. <"There's a horse captive here! Wounded and hungry!"> The words carried to all of her comrades, though she couldn't remember which of them would understand.
            Bergi turned back to the shed and clicked and cooed to the animal before singing a lilting tune. Reaching out with her voice, she soothed the great beast as she could with gentle strokes around head and neck, cleaning the face and muzzle and mane. She also ripped what weeds or grass she could from around the shed's base and flavored them with a sweeter air before stuffing them through the cracks in the wood.
            Whatever else it was, the horse had been badly mistreated; it shied from the mystic touch of Bergi's magic, scrambling back to its feet and kicking the walls again. There were a multitude of thin scratches along its sides and legs in addition to a few deeper cuts. The nervous stallion didn't have much strength, though, and quieted again quickly, shivering and rolling his eyes. It hadn't missed the sweet smell of the magically-enhanced sickly weeds, though, and snuffled at the air in their direction.
            Given that her cousin still blocked the door the Paladin chose to remain ready to follow or react to the situation as it developed As Rhaina waited for I'Daiin to move out of the way, Amrynn had a nasty surprise as the goblin commando in the tower planted another arrow in her flesh, despite her invisible armor and shield! She could hear it cackle with glee as it bounced up and down, gloating in a horribly immature manner.
            With a roar of rage, the Shoanti barbarian went into his battle trance, magical longsword in hand. Pushing past where Devin had stood, he engaged the goblin between himself and the door, chopping at the smaller humanoid, fully aware that Bruthazmus was at his back.
            The goblin slid off his enchanted sword with a wheeze, its horsechopper clattering to the floor as it slumped in a pile. Rhaina charged into the room on I'Daiin's heels, though she was unable to see what the goblins were doing behind the curtain. In a show of misplaced bravado, the warchanter began to sing a goblin song of morbid victory for the Thistletop tribe - although there didn't appear to be many of them left!
            Bruthazmus backed up a few feet, then shot at I'Daiin, but the Shoanti ducked the heavy arrow. A snarl on his lips, the bugbear drew an evil-looking flail from his belt. "If you want trouble, you've got it, longshanks," he sneered, licking his lips in an obscene gesture.
            The desperate goblins by the door tried to swarm Rhaina from under the curtain, thinking her easy prey with her apparent lack of armor, but only one managed to get in a lucky nick with its dogslicer - her invisible armor turned away the second rusty blade.
            The door to the chamber was crowded; I'Daiin; Rhaina. Their strong, muscular forms provided no opportunity for ingress for her. Devin was inside, alone it seemed, recklessly diving in where more circumspect persons might have paused and considered; a small part of her, a part pushed deep down where it wouldn't get in the way of her rational self-preservation, was anxiously angry with him for such a brash and foolhardy action. Yet there was nothing she could do now, save for doing what she could to make sure he survived this encounter. Damn him, she silently cursed.
            Gripping her sword's hilt tighter, she maneuvered herself nearer the entrance, so when the opportunity was opened, she was there, ready.
            The curtain didn't rip as Devin had expected it to as he tumbled past the goblin behind it - it parted, but his dagger passed through it so smoothly that it was as though it wasn't there at all. Looking up as he came to a stop in the hallway, he could no longer see the curtain anywhere.
            To add to his discomfort, he could hear rapid footsteps and the clank of mail approaching up the stairs through the open door to his right.
            "The curtain is illusory!" Devin called out warning as he came up on his feet, facing into the room.
            The dagger in his hand flew towards Bruthazmus, followed by a quickly drawn-and-loosed arrow, also at Bruthazmus. He shifted east, deeper in the hall, tucking up against the north wall of the hallway and paying particular anticipatory attention to the adjacent open door known to lead to the upward stairway. Between his haste to attack Bruthazmus, the dim light the bugbear stood in, and the corner around which he had to shoot, neither of his attacks struck the evil monster.
            Amrynn grunted in pain as the goblin shaft thudded into her, taking her breath away. Again? Again!? Anger surged through her; hot-blooded, fiery anger.
            Gathering the swirling strands of the arcane to her, without thinking, she brought the energy together in the shape of thick, energy-wrapped arrows, and sent them on their way. The dancing, prancing goblin who had thought to violate her body with his arrow, was the target of her magicked wrath; two missiles sent streaking.
            Though the goblin enjoyed cover from her sight on its perch in the tower, even the bit of its head that she could see was enough to fix her magic upon its location. Her arrows flew unerringly, looping over the railing behind which it hid and granted her the satisfaction of hearing the blasted little green monster scream.
            Inside, the clank of mail that Devin had heard approaching materialized as Orik - not a bugbear, as he had appeared before, but a human man of ruggedly handsome appearance, with a visage that did not mesh well with smiles and laughter. Clad in fine banded mail and carrying a bastard sword in one hand, a heavy steel shield in the shape of a frowning giant's face in the other, he completely missed Devin standing to one side of the door as he took in the battle.
            "Lyrie, bring some light!" he yelled, brandishing his tapering sword as he moved out into the hall, taking on a ready stance beside the warchanter.
            Bergi heard the door smash and Devin’s shout and knew, even through the fog, that the battle was truly underway. She was torn between her comrades and the poor imprisoned beast, but only for a moment. She knew where she was needed. “We’ll be back for you,” she said to the horse. “I promise.”
            Bergi turned toward Thistletop and took a few moments to wipe the worst of the wet and grime away from her face. She stayed where she was, awaiting the word to move forward, but her voice rose strong and true out of the mist. A rousing song of siege and sorcery floated to the ears of all the Heroes of Sandpoint as they struggled to topple the monsters of Thistletop.
            Another arrow flew at Amrynn from the wounded goblin in the tower, but this time the missile skipped off her magical shield, leaving her unharmed (or at least, no more harmed than before).
            The Paladin heard Devin’s warning about the illusory nature of the otherwise inexplicable curtain and will ignore it and attack on the Goblin diagonally to her left. Stabbing blindly through the curtain, she didn't hit the goblin - but the unreal nature of the curtain became clear to her, wavering in her sight before thinning into nothing.
            Having moved through the illusion without much thought, I'Daiin's only response was a growl. His eyes fixed on the bugbear as he stepped forward and chopped at Bruthazmus with his longsword. He reserved no resources of energy for speech now, only focusing on the kill.
            His enchanted sword clove through the bugbear's armor like butter, leaving a deep gash in his side. Bruthazmus howled in pain and fury, dropping his heavy black recurved bow to wrap both hands around his flail. "Orik! Get him!"
            Rhaina was kept busy by the two desperate goblins, who were darting every which way as they tried to stay in one piece under her assault. They both managed to avoid her blade, whether it be by goblin luck, the dim lighting or by virtue of their manic speed. One even managed to cut her exposed leg as she drove off the other, and it paused to shout a goblin chant with glee.
            <"Rimpo is the best to fight! Kill the longshanks left and right!">
            As the warchanter broke off singing to warily touch Bruthazmus' leg with a spell on her lips, the bugbear smashed his flail into I'Daiin, drawing blood despite the Shoanti's tough skin. A grin spread over Bruthazmus' ugly mug, his beady red eyes gleaming. He swung his flail at the Shoanti tauntingly.
            Devin drew his shortsword, and tucked tight up against the north wall of the hall just east of the stairway door.
            Bring a light, Lyrie.
            Devin anticipated Lyrie's cat would travel with her or precede her. If Lyrie arrived first through the door, his shortsword would drive into her as she crossed the threshold. If Lyrie's cat walked out first, well, cleaving a wizard's familiar tended to have negative repercussions for the bonded wizard.
            Just as Devin had expected, a white cat came through the door - Lyrie's familiar. The half-elf was so still and silent that even the feline didn't realize he was there until too late. His sword stabbed clean through the cat, and it convulsed briefly, lying in a spreading pool of blood at the top of the stairs.
            "Skivver!" The shriek of horror from farther down the stairwell confirmed that the loss of the cat had not gone unnoticed. However, Orik's head snapped around at the cry, and he rounded the corner, coming face-to-face with Devin.
            "Lyrie, watch out! There's someone at the top of the stairs!" he called in warning, his eyes narrowing as he stepped over the still cat and brought his sword around in a powerful swing at Devin - but in the dim light, he wasn't able to read the half-elf's movements, and Devin dodged the blow.
            "I know that now, you idiot! What have they done to Skivver?!" Lyrie shouted back.
            "What are you doing?! Get back here!" Bruthazmus roared, suddenly alone with the frothing mad Shoanti after him.
            Lyrie ignored the bugbear, looking around the corner of the stairwell with murder in her eyes. Her furious grimace was very white against her dark skin as she leveled a wand at the already bleeding Devin. "You're going to pay for that, you bastard!"
            Her wand flashed, and Devin felt a solid impact in his chest, shoving him back a step.
            "Lyrie, some light!" Orik insisted, keeping Devin busy with feints and testing attacks. He didn't appear to care that he'd left Bruthazmus alone, either.
            "Get the door!" the bugbear snarled at the warchanter, busy keeping I'Daiin at bay with swipes of his spiked flail.

48


            Her back was to the wall; Amrynn felt exposed. The battle had been joined within the room; Devin, I'Daiin and Rhaina confronting the bugbear and his cronies. She should be there.
            She sidled along the wall approaching the open door and the raging sounds of battle beyond, eyes focused forwards; her hip struck and caught against a protuberance. Glancing down, a door handle and with a wider glance the door she leant against.
            An alternative way in, she thought? If she could find an alternate passage that lead to the rear of their foes, perhaps she could surprise them from behind.
            Quickly she tried the handle. If it turned and the door opened easily she would peek inside, sword at the ready, and see whether it was safe to continue. If it was locked then valuable seconds would be lost in a doubtless futile effort to open the portal. She would continue towards the melee that unfolded through the already open door, her sword at the ready.
            The dangling handle (in ill repair, as could be expected of goblin maintenance) turned easily, and the door opened with a creak of protest. Within, Amrynn could see shelves lined with crude tools, nets, and tack for goblin dogs along the walls. At the back of the dim room, dozens of scrawny rabbits moved about in fright inside a large, L-shaped wooden cage. What there did not appear to be was another egress from the storage shed.
            However, the flimsy door of the shed at least provided cover from the eastern tower.
            Outside, Durriken gave up trying to coax Bergi away from the shed containing the huge, mistreated horse, and dashed for the door opening where Rhaina stood, unlimbering his crossbow as he went. He worked to load the weapon in the shelter of the wall, throwing frequent glances at the turmoil inside. "Where's Devin?"
            On top of the wall, with no good targets remaining, the goblin whom Amrynn had taught a valuable lesson in prudence to ducked out of sight.
            Bergi tried to grab a hold of Durriken as he raced out of the fog, but she couldn’t keep her grip. They hadn’t been called up! She couldn’t yell after him without breaking her song, and she didn’t want to linger in this fog alone. She scanned around for anyone for only a moment before racing toward the sounds of combat herself.
            As the mist dissipated behind her, Bergi saw Rhaina and Durriken piled up at the corner and Amrynn with another doorway open. The tiny halfling changed course and bolted past Amrynn into the room beyond.
            The stink brought Bergi up short, but she could still hear much of what was going on next door. Light she could manage, but getting it to those in need would be a little tricky. She kept her breath measured and her song strong as she prepared to shed some light on the situation.
            I'Daiin snarled at the bugbear, his eyes rolling and his entire frame manifesting one sole, ominous fact: I am your death. He struck at Bruthazmus again, using his longsword singlemindedly to press the assault, heedless of the bugbear's swinging flail. If there were a pit leading directly to Hell, it seemed certain that I'Daiin would have knocked them both in without a second thought. Bruthazmus sneered at the enraged Shoanti, but that was a mistake: I'Daiin brought his sword smashing down through the bugbear's defense, leaving a deep gash in his armor.
            Rhaina felt the frustration resulting from her inability to strike these little terrors,but she did not let the deter her from her course,striking again at the two who pestered her,hoping to follow it up with a small move towards the bugbear “The curtain is an Illusion,ignore it.”She spoke loud enough to carry to the two women who lingered outside the fight Devin is engaged with one or more of our enemy down the corridor to my left ,Father
            With one swing of her greatsword, she left a deep wound in the chest of the goblin ahead of her; on the backswing, she hacked down the goblin to her left. The beautiful Shoanti stepped over its bleeding body, closing on Orik.
            Sidling along the wall, the warchanter burst into scratchy goblin song again, extolling the virtues of the Thistletop clan. She tugged loose the bar holding the doors closed and kicked them open.
            Bruthazmus didn't even hesitate. He abandoned the fight, racing out the doors and to the right through a passage in the thistle bushes, leaving his beloved bow lying at I'Daiin's feet.
            The badly wounded goblin warrior looked around, stunned. Cringing behind its dogslicer and potlid shield, it sidled to the wall, looking up at Rhaina fearfully. "Mercy, mercy!" it croaked, looking for some path to escape.
            Glancing over his shoulder, Orik scowled. "Lyrie, grab the cat and let's get out of here!"
            It appeared that the defense of Thistletop was crumbling.

49


            “Goddess,it must not be,lend me strength;they must not escape justice yet again” “I’Daiin,I want you to get after that Bugbear Now! Father Durriken,please hurry after I’Daiin and back him up Orik the time of your reckoning is upon you” As if drawing speed and strength from her prayer the Paladin closes the distance between her and the human,almost before the goblin she just struck had fallen. Her Greatsword swung a bloody arc as she brought it down upon his head.
            Rhaina moved into the narrow hallway, the light rapidly dwindling as she left the open doorway. She brought her greatsword slashing down at Orik - but he brought up his frowning shield, and the sound of the impact reverberated through the woodheap-fort.
            Amrynn, heard Rhaina's call from inside the battle room, 'The curtain is an Illusion, ignore it'. She glanced inside the small room, through the door she held ajar. Nothing in here. Nothing that she could see with her quick glance. Save for Bergi, that was.
            Rhaina's words were enough. “Come,” she uttered. “We are best served where our friends are.”
            Letting go of the door, without thought that maybe Bergi could be shut inside if the handle operated but on the outside of the room, she stepped towards the sounds of the struggle.
            Stepping into the room, slipping past Durikken at the door, she witnessed the chaos within. Anger still broiled within her, the goblin shaft grated against bone in her chest, sending waves of pain through her torso, anger followed in close pursuit. The first creature to catch her eye was the poor goblin at the mercy of Rhaina, its eyes seeking any escape it could. Amrynn's anger required venting, a means to escape. The goblin was it.
            Swinging her sword she brought it down upon the pathetic creature. Should her blade strike true; one less foe to concern them. Though the goblin's piercing squeal of terror threatened to throw her off, her blow was enough to lay the little monster low. It fell to the dirt floor, its potlid shield banging across the ground.
            Devin smirked darkly at Orik's call to Lyrie for a general retreat. "Not just yet," he intoned pleasantly and slashed in with his shortsword.
            Again, Orik twisted as though he was expecting the attack. How could he possibly have seen it coming? Devin had spent years keeping his motions subtle. It was almost as though the warrior wasn't troubled by the lack of light at all!
            Lyrie reached out to scoop up her cat, and while Rhaina was kept busy by Orik, Devin managed to stab her in the outstretched arm. The cloaked woman shrieked loudly, and fumbled back down the steps with her familiar. Orik executed a well-timed strike against Rhaina, shot Devin a scowl that was largely lost in the dim light, and stepped back through the stairwell door onto the landing while still on guard. Lyrie's hateful invective was a counterpoint to his cool demeanor.
            Durriken, who had missed the drama, entered the fort cautiously. Seeing the pile of wounded goblins scattered amid the debris from the barricade that I'Daiin had demolished, he put away his crossbow, meaning to draw a weapon he could send the goblins to Pharasma with.
            Bergi followed Amrynn a few feet, encouraging the elf and all those within earshot with her rousing choruses. The bard paused in Amrynn’s prior position, hiding behind the door. Amrynn had slipped inside the fort but Durriken was still hesitating, piled up at the choke point.
            Bergi decided to wait a moment, and if the congestion cleared she would follow everyone into the fort. If Durriken was still forced to wait outside, she had the words to a spell poised upon her lips.
            The door at the end of the inner hallway was flung open, a goblin commando with a bow in hand appearing in it, no trace of a wound upon its green hide, and carrying what looked very much like Hrolfr's shortsword - but when it saw nothing but enemies and fallen comrades in view, it looked as though it would have preferred to have left the door shut. The battle chant it had begun to shout died on its lips as it looked around, enormous ears drooping.
            "You don't have to tell me twice!" snarled I'Daiin, and sped after Bruthazmus like a loping hound after a bleeding rabbit. The barbarian didn't even look back to see where his companions were. The fort could have been on fire and he would not have noticed, so intent was I'Daiin on his quarry, and indeed, that was how the Sklar-Quah ran in the Cinderlands...all save death and glory were beneath consideration, even as the world burned.
            Ignoring the cowering warchanter, he burst out into the morning light. Outside, he took everything in at a glance: goblins on the far side of the chasm, jumping and shouting; the rope bridge still unrepaired; the occasional arrow clattering here and there, coming nowhere close to striking; ah, there - a passage through the thistle patch, with some of the bugbear's fur still caught in the thistles here and there.
            He chased.
            Bruthazmus hadn't gotten far; the narrow, goblin-sized tunnels had never been meant for anyone of his or I'Daiin's size. The Shoanti, too, was held back by the clinging bushes' thorns and branches, but as he rounded a twist in them, he found the bugbear ready.
            Despite the close quarters, despite the shielding edge of the bushes, the desperate bugbear dealt I'Daiin a blow that would have crushed the chest of a lesser man. He didn't pause to gloat, however; instead, he turned and fought his way through the tunnel once more.
            The warchanter's song had long since faltered, Bergi's strong voice drowning it out. She scuttled out the front of the fort and out of sight.
            Amrynn knew that it shouldn't, yet the satisfaction she felt as her blade crashed upon the hapless goblin, felt...good. A release of anger that sated the bubbling, broiling ocean that churned deep within her. She took in the room before her, at a glance. The far doors were open to the outside; she'd caught a glimpse of I'Daiin crashing through them and out into the brush. To her left Rhaina and beyond Devin, and beyond another of the goblins. Another!? The place was infested with them...
            “Durriken. Help I'Daiin,” she uttered, gesturing to the open door. For him to be alone atop Thistletop was courting disaster beyond sense. “Leave him not alone.” Durriken threw a doubtful look out the open fort doors, then back at Amrynn, but he arrested himself before kneeling and instead turned toward where I'Daiin and Bruthazmus had vanished.
            “Rhaina,” Amrynn grunted, catching a fragment of scampering steps upon the stairwell; foes sought escape. “To the stairs. I follow. They cannot get away.” An unsolicited image of Quickfoot's peaceful corpse rose in her mind; and the tragic story of his loss. His death was to be no waste. “Not again,” she hissed.
            The press would be tight upon the stairs, though she had at hand incantations upon which that was no hindrance, should she have need to call upon them.
            “Bergi we could use some light in here Amrynn,the Woman” Orik sees the Shoanti smile at the dint in his shield and she seems to stand a little taller as she brings her sword back on a different plane than her first attack
            Orik took a step back behind the corner of the door just in time, for Rhaina's heavy sword sliced through the air just where his head had been, and the door spat splinters in a cloud over Devin as the blade smashed through the frame.
            Through the chaos of the melee, as Amrynn stepped close to Rhaina, she caught Devin's eye, take care, the message she wordlessly flung his way.
            Devin sighed in frustration; as much as he'd have liked to press the attack upon Orik and Lyrie, the late-to-the-party goblin at the end of the hall warranted more immediate attention. That, and Devin had a score to settle, and a borrowed sword to return.
            "I've got him," Devin called to Rhaina, resigned, ticking his head down the hallway towards the new arrival. The descending stairs wouldn't readily permit both he and Rhaina to press Orik and Lyrie, and Rhaina was best suited, there. His glance towards Rhaina caught clear sight of Amrynn beyond her; Devin flashed an overconfident smile and a wink.
            Devin twisted, putting his back against the north side of the hallway to gain as much advantage from the stairway door as he could from an opportune strike from Orik, then slid east off the wall and spun to land in front of the goblin commando, sword already poised to strike.
            The goblin commando squawked with alarm, dropping its bow and fumbling to draw its stolen Ulfen shortsword, but the weapon was awkwardly sized for it, and despite the faint light available for Devin to see his quarry, he stabbed the goblin before it could so much as arm itself.
            "You brainless goons! You'll pay for this!" Lyrie's furious words were followed by an arcane phrase, the words echoing weirdly up the stairwell into the earth. Rhaina glanced around the corner, but the stairwell was lost in darkness.
            Fortunately for her, she sensed a shift in the air and jerked back just before Orik's sword swished through the space she had been standing. "Lyrie, _go!"_ the man growled, all but hidden in the darkness.
            "They're going to eat their swords before I'm done with them," Lyrie growled back defiantly from below, the words sounding as though they came from a throng of people rather than one woman.
            Orik grunted in frustration, but Rhaina imagined that he stood firm - at least, every now and then his sword darted out to keep her at bay.
            Limping after I'Daiin, Durriken spared only a moment to glance at the excited goblins on the mainland. He entered the thistle tunnel before a single arrow could land near him. Seeing the Shoanti moving ahead of him, he called out, "I'Daiin! Where is Bruthazmus? Do you need Pharasma's grace?"
            Bergi climbed across the wreckage and entered the fort. The wee bit of light she brought with her helped paint a clearer picture of the shouting voices of the melee. Rhaina and Amrynn were chasing after Devin, by the looks of it, and Durriken was moving toward the main gate, following I’Daiin she believed.
            They were at the heart of Thistledown and dividing up. What could be worse! She altered one line of the stanza she was singing to: “Each of the heroes wandered not Too FAR!!”
            Then she just surveyed the chaos around her and tried to decide which was the best course to follow, noting the downed goblins, the mighty bow and the myriad shadowy corners that could hold an ambush.
            The goblin that Devin had stabbed had no intention of sticking around. It jumped away and darted up the rickety wooden stairs that led up to an open trapdoor, thirty feet above. Pale light sifted down to join what light Bergi's spell provided; more than enough for Devin to see, though it was dim at the tower's base.
            A glance into the stairwell showed Rhaina that she had been right - Orik still stood ready on the landing - but behind him, where Lyrie had stood, the stairs were now packed with cloaked women, all acting in unison as they cradled myriad bleeding white cats.

50


            Swinging his sword as if his life depended on it--and it probably did--I'Daiin struck at Bruthazmus again, trying desperately to down the bugbear. "DURRIKEN!" he shouted, not wasting any further breath on speech. I'Daiin could feel the end of his blood trance coming, and if he did not bring down Bruthazmus by then, he would be dead for sure.
            But the bugbear was already gone. Crashing out from the thorns into a dim chamber formed by the arching thorns and the wall of the fort, I'Daiin put on a burst of speed, leaving the unfortunately more heavily armored Durriken behind. Even in his blood trance, he was canny enough to grab a jutting timber and haul himself around the corner at the sudden drop-off of the edge of the island. There, panting heavily, Bruthazmus was pushing through another narrow patch of thorny tunnel. I'Daiin knew from memory of the other side of the fort that the thornbushes drew away from the side of the fort beyond, allowing for swifter passage. Bruthazmus seemed intent on reaching the now nearly dissipated mist that Amrynn had called forth, a mere minute or so before. Even as he plunged into it, however, the last scraps were pulled apart by the ocean breeze.
            Bruthazmus was, had there been any doubt previous to this, a particularly foul-mouthed monster.
            I'Daiin could hear Durriken laboring to follow him through the thorns, not far behind, but much slower than the quick-paced Shoanti.
            “You appear caught up by your ally Orik,where will you run to now?” Assuming that Orik can see her face ,Rhaina is smiling.
            Orik was not smiling. "You don't want to come down here," he advised, sounding sincere enough. He didn't budge from his stance on the landing.
            ‘Amrynn, the woman!’ echoed in the elf woman’s ears. Rhaina had directed Amrynn towards the fleeing Lyrie, probably the woman already had halfway descended the staircase. Yet Amrynn could not; Rhaina herself and Orik in particular barred her way.
            Amrynn drew upon the chaos, pulling it once more into cohesion and order. Plucking a fragment apart, moulding it to her will, uttering the word, casting it forth towards Orik, who confronted them and whom she could see and oppose. There was no outward sign of the sorcery, it was focused upon the inside of the man, ballooning from a germ of nothing to a chill that froze his soul.
            Orik's frown slowly deepened; was that a touch of confusion in his eyes? He took a shuddering breath, maintaining his vigil, but there was the faintest tremor in his arms, visible only to one who knew what to look for.
            As tempted as Devin was to pursue the goblin commando to recover that sword, Bergi's caution rang in his thoughts. With a spit of frustration he sheathed his bow to free up a hand. With that free hand he pulled the shadows to him, then parted the veil to reveal four spheres of roiling fire orbiting each other in a tight blur.
            Devin added a wink and snarky grin for Rhaina's, Amrynn's, and Bergi's line-of-sight benefit.
            "Hellstorm fireball!" he yelled convincing caution and cast the small-but-ominous maelstrom down the hall where it turned the corner, shot past Orik, and raced down the first flight of stairs towards Lyrie's presumed position at the landing Devin had seen.
            Orik was clearly thrown off-balance as he dodged the "fireball" Devin sent streaming past him, and Lyrie's shriek suggested it had fooled her, as well. Rhaina saw by the swirling lights that the knot of cloaked women had plastered themselves against the wall, their uninjured arms raised with wand in hand to fend off the explosion of flame that never came.
            Rhaina took the opportunity to slash again at Orik, her vision now unimpaired by the darkness that had stymied her before. The warrior barely brought his shield up in time, still wincing in anticipation of a blast of flame from behind.
            When she realized that she had been made a fool of, the Lyries jabbed their hands at Rhaina, the fingers of their other hand twisting, clawlike, then opening suddenly. "Erstuilhaegg," she hissed, hatred in her voice even as it spoke in the tongue of magic, seemingly strengthened by the echo of many throats. The reverberation of her word seemed to build, making Rhaina's sword thrum, but the Shoanti steeled her will, grasping the hilt firmly, and in the end the vibration died away. Lyrie seemed taken aback, but still furious.
            Rhaina's concentration on fighting off Lyrie's spell cost her. Orik attacked, smashing at her defenses with powerful, yet methodical blows, his tactical thinking showing an experience beyond her own, driving her back against the fort wall - and stabbing her there. Even as he withdrew behind his shield, breathing hard and shivering, the beautiful paladin could feel the blood running over her bare skin, taking her life and vigor with it.
            "You all had best clear out of here," Orik advised again, back in a guard position. "You don't want this to get any uglier."
            "Shut up, Orik!" Lyrie snarled from below.
            I’Daiin’s shout sealed it. Bergi hadn’t been sure which troupe she was going to follow, but it sounded as though the wounded Bruthazmus wasn’t done putting up a fight just yet. Bergi paraded her way across the main chamber and came to a halt over the wicked bugbear’s bow. Her voice continued to ring out as she raised her own weapon and took aim.
            Letting her lighted arrow fly, she didn’t expect it to connect with Orik through the narrow defile where she was offered a glimpse of him, but the shaft would continue to illuminate the stairway after she ducked out the front door.
            As she expected, she didn't hit Orik, but the light from her arrow joined Devin's swirling lights in the stairwell, now lit nearly as brightly as day.
            Devin heard a thump, and on looking up, found that the square of light that had opened to the sky was now gone. Devin swung his shortsword in a quick arc to sunder the string of the goblin bow the commando had dropped in his fright; no point in having that bow come back to hand to haunt them immediately.
            I'Daiin charged toward Bruthazmus, ready to collapse, his thews burning and his breath catching in his side where the bugbear cut him deep. He spied the bugbear's form in the dissipating mist and growled, coughing as he did.
            Crashing through the thorns with unbelievable power and speed, I'Daiin thundered after Bruthazmus, sticking his wickedly sharp sword clean through the fleeing bugbear's back and chest, then booting his bleeding body off the sword and onto the ground. Bruthazmus' heavy flail, clumped with clots of old blood and new between its evil spikes, fell from his limp fingers.
            I'Daiin could feel the power in his rage fading, the strength it granted him draining from his body. The pain of his wounds grew in his awareness as his fury faded. Behind him, he could hear Durriken struggling past the thorns in his wake, still trying to reach him.
            Unwitting of the bugbear's fate, those inside the goblin fort fought on.
            A chill sense of dread gripped Amrynn’s heart as she saw the blade slide from Rhaina’s lithe body, blood thick upon its edge. The look of shock that clouded her face touched the same personal chord as of Bruthazmus’ black arrow’s almost fatal violation of her own body.
            The memory of that brutally ugly moment, barely a handful of minutes old, swept through her and in its wake the fear-fuelled anger pursued. That anger’s heat fed the simmering ocean of distemper deep within her, tendrils of it wafting up through her veins to incite furious action.
            Stepping forwards, to within a sword’s swing, she gripped the hilt of her longsword firmly and swung, as accurately and lethally as she could. All she could hope to achieve was to keep Orik from Rhaina.
            “Bergi!” she cried as her blade flashed in the sunless light. Durriken she had sent off after I’Daiin. A mistake? She had a vague memory of bards being able to heal folks in the fashion of a priest. Maybe. Perhaps the Halfling had that facility at her fingertips in Durriken’s immediate absence.
            Despite the heroism she felt buoyed by thanks to Bergi's song, Orik parried her blow almost casually, his eyes remaining on Rhaina; it was clear whom he regarded as the greater threat, for all that a fine tremor in his hands revealed to Amrynn that her spell had not been cast in vain. "Suit yourself," he sighed, secure in his position on the landing above the stairs.
            "Don't talk them to death, you moron!" Lyrie hissed from behind. "Split their skulls!"
            Orik didn't respond to the abuse, other than perhaps firming his mouth a bit further.
            Though Orik's blade hadn't landed upon him, Devin was still taken aback by the skill and expertise of Orik's swordsmanship.
            Devin hoping she'd be able to hold Orik pinned, and to do so would assume a fully defensive posture. He didn't know where Durriken was, but Rhaina could definitely use such assistance as Durriken could safely offer with a touch from behind her. He had to trust that Amrynn knew the situation of the main room and could direct aid as needed.
            Devin stepped a little closer to the standoff, moving halfway down the hall, pulled a fist in to his chest, then threw it outward as he opened and twisted his fingers. A bolt of shadow with refracted colors dancing at its periphery lanced towards Orik.
            The shadow struck Orik, vanishing upon splashing against his fine banded mail. Or rather, it didn't vanish; instead, if one looked closely, it seeped through the chinks in his armor, draining from sight like water on thirsty soil. Orik's eyes widened, and he took a step back, but it was too late; his bastard sword dipped suddenly as the warrior abruptly found it heavier than usual.
            He cast a dark look Devin's way. "Let's not play rough. You'll get whipped." With a twist of his lips to show the effort, he raised his blood-lined sword up again.
            The greatsword nearly fell from her finger,so great was the shock of that wound,but her grip hardened and she swung the sword in a complex defensive pattern,as the healing touch of her Goddess steadied her resolve
            “Why do you aid them Orik? You are clearly not evil. Saranrae can see the good still in you.Stand with us Orik Our cause is just,and your soul should not be bound to such Evil”
            Even as Sarenrae's healing touch began to heal her wounds, Rhaina looked into Orik's eyes, seeing into his soul. They were dark, steely; here was a man who trusted in his skills, and was not prone to fear. If there was evil there, in the depths of his mind and heart, it did not rise far enough over the myriad petty ills of any man for Rhaina to see.
            "Just causes don't pay the innkeeper," Orik said, his serious face removing what humor might have been in his words. He tested Rhaina's defenses, not committing to another attack just yet.
            "Will you stop talking?!" Lyrie screeched furiously, leveling her wand at Rhaina. The paladin felt a sharp pain, as if struck by an arrow, though no arrow protruded from her.
            "Take it easy, Lyrie, I've got 'em," Orik soothed, launching an attack on Rhaina - but despite her terrible wounds, her training in the art of combat played true. For every heavy strike, she redirected his sword away, remaining untouched behind her shield of canny steel. New respect was in his eyes as he backed off, testing her defenses once again.
            Bergi was never going to win a foot race, not with any of the giant folk. Her legs just weren’t built for that kind of speed. Amrynn’s cry swung her attention back to the melee at hand. Bergi’s eyes flew wide seeing both Amrynn and Rhaina covered in blood. She needed to stay here, at least as much as I’Daiin and Durriken needed her.
            She had come to this particular spot though for a reason. She looked down at the ugly black weapon of Bruthazmus. The bow was twice as long as she was and weighed probably one-fifth her weight, but her sneer was a determined one. She’d not let him have it again, ever.
            She reached down and picked the bow up, trying to balance the unwieldy thing on her shoulder. She stumbled toward the melee and planned on lending a hand in addition to her voice.
            I'Daiin let the rage drop from him, feeling his blood drip and mix with that of the bugbear's. He was tired, so very tired, and this victory did not seem that satisfying. "Durriken," he croaked, looking for the cleric through the thorns. "Durriken, if you're there, I could use some healing. And then perhaps we can cut off this fool's head and bring it back to the fort." I'Daiin issued a pained, venomous chuckle, and then continued in a low voice. "I am serious, Durriken. We need to demoralize them. That's the word in Taldan, isn't it? Demoralize. A blasted Korvosan taught me that word. Ah, I do not feel well." I'Daiin sat down by his prize, glancing at Bruthazmus.
            Blood flowed sluggishly from the wounds I'Daiin had imparted on the bugbear, and his breathing was labored. His ugly head had no answers for the tired Shoanti.
            Durriken hurried up to I'Daiin, then paused to catch his breath as he regarded the fallen bugbear. "Ugly fellow, in more ways than one. But I'Daiin, surely you don't wish to sink to his level," the cleric panted, tearing his eyes from Bruthazmus to look at the wounded Shoanti. "He was a brute, yes, and worked toward evil ends. But we are not like him." Having finished his sermon, he reached for his carved spiral, preparing to call on Pharasma for aid.

51


            A dull ache of fear weaved its way through Amrynn. The blow to Rhaina hadn’t been fatal, though it was so close. And her assailant still stood, bearing down upon her. It didn’t help that her own efforts with the blade had been fruitless, pathetic even; easily parried by the man, dismissed with arrogant ease.
            Yet he was affected by her magics. She could plainly see their effects upon him. Mayhaps that was the way to combat him. Though she could feel her ability to draw upon the arcane energies that flowed through her beginning to wane.
            Frustration rose to join the anger that boiled through her veins. It twisted and twined, each dancing with the other to form a thread of heat that wound through her limbs and boughs.
            It was Rhaina who needed the most help, Amrynn could see that. She needed, mightily, any assistance Amrynn could avail her of. She thought and acted quickly. Distraction. Diversion. If she can divert Orik’s attention from Rhaina for a moment, enough for her to mount a more effective attack upon the man, then perhaps it would sway the tide. She would expose herself to Orik, of that she had no doubt. Rhaina’s need was greater.
            So she did. Feinting and weaving with her blade, she sought to draw Orik’s attention aside, towards herself, thus opening his defences to an educated blade. She knew it to be a risk; a risk she gladly undertook.
            Her attack seemed to surprise Orik; he took a step back, dangerously close to the stairs now, and used precious moments to ward off her assault.
            Devin continued his tactic of drawing Orik's attention from Rhaina, or his ability to effectively inflict harm. Again, he held his hand forward, palm open and fingers clutching, as he whispered to the shadows. The shadows responded, coalescing and darkening about Orik's head before collapsing inward, seeking his senses and mind.
            Orik jerked his head away from the shadows, scowling ferociously at these magical tricks, but to no avail. When they had vanished, his scowl softened to a mere frown. His weapon and shield were still held at the ready, but his dark eyes had gone distant, as though he had suddenly been caught up in a daydream.
            Rhaina knew that the longer this fight went on the more that it would favour Orik’s greater skill and with Lyrie casting spells at her as well that this could well be her last chance.
            She prayed silently “Goddess ,lend what healing you have for me and I pray you will accept my most unworthy self into your care should I fail my comrades here”
            She let her voice drop in tone and a well known Shoanti proverb reverberated loudly in the narrow hallway “Kia huihuia tatou tumuaki”
            The greatsword continued it’s dizzying motion until suddenly it swung vertically up and out of the way as the Shoanti pivoted,aiming a stunning kick at the point where Orik’s armour meets his throat
            There was a loud click as Orik's teeth snapped shut, helped along by Rhaina's foot in his neck. Coughing, he dropped his sword and shield, clawing at his throat. While he was occupied, Rhaina slipped away from the trap she had been caught in.
            The handful of Lyries bellowed with fury, their voices nearly as powerful as Bruthazmus' had been. "You wretches, with your dirty little tricks! I'll see you all dead! And once you're dead, I'll have you stuffed into that warren to guard this place! I'll take your souls!" Leveling her wand at Amrynn, she spoke an arcane word.
            Amrynn felt an impact in the magic around her, but it never reached her flesh. Her invisible shield had stopped Lyrie's attack. Lyrie realized it even as Amrynn did, the fury on her face turning it into an almost inhuman mask. She let out a wordless shriek that spoke more viscerally of her mental state than even her expression.
            But she didn't give Orik, who was still rasping and coughing, so much as a second glance.
            Bergi’s voice continued to ring out, strong and true as she swayed in time to her tune, switching both bows to one hand and carrying them by the strings. Lyrics of inspiration and power were deftly counterpointed by jibes and Lyrie-mocking tones, echoing the screeching harpy that still hid on the stairs. She wove motes and notes into the song that eased the pains and burdens of her comrades, Rhaina specifically. A single, light touch of Bergi’s hand sent a chill of goose bumps through the paladin, mending some hurts and reinvigorating her.
            The bard then danced away on light feet, twirling in time with her efforts to try and find out what had become of I’Daiin and Durriken. The stark contrast of the delicate and delightful halfling spinning through the murk and murder of Thistletop was not lost on those who paid witness.
            Bergi paused before the open doors to the fort; the yard formed by the walls of the thistle bushes appeared empty but for a scattering of arrows stuck in the ground. Beyond, the bridge had not been repaired, and the morning light revealed a knot of goblins on the mainland, armed with bows. Neither Durriken nor I'Daiin were in sight, but across the chasm, a number of the goblins appeared to be trying to raise the bridge, and not doing a very good job of it. They didn't appear to have noticed Bergi; they were busy arguing and shoving, and one had apparently been shoved right off the cliff, for it was hanging from a root and trying to climb back up while other goblins laughed and pointed, and poked it with sticks. The wind caught at the bushes, making them rustle, and sweeping sea spray as high as the fort. Perhaps that, and the morning mist, was why it was always so damp? Water glistened on the leaves and thorns of the bushes. There appeared to be a tunnel through them, leading to her right along the fort.
            Durriken looked away, wincing, as I'Daiin sawed Bruthazmus' head off with his unnaturally sharp longsword. The cleric did his best not to look at the grisly trophy, but his prayers to Pharasma must have been sincere enough, for the chill wind that touched I'Daiin took with it the worst of his wounds as it faded away - though his bone-weariness remained.
            Despite the maelstrom of disparate and conflicting emotions that broiled within her, Amrynn forced herself to focus on what was important. Orik. The beast of a man still stood, though she sought encouragement from the dazed look that overcame his mien, subsequent to Devin spilling about him the same elements of the arcane she herself did.
            Bergi danced and pranced about their legs, a sprightly and lively wisp of a creature leaving a scattering of notes and tones in her wake. Her joyous song filled her heart; she could feel it lift her spirits in this most desperate of moments. It gave her a strength of will which had threatened to flee before the gloating hatefulness of Orik.
            Setting aside her blade for the moment, she drew upon the halfling's optimistic ditty, and upon the Chaos once more, searching for and summoning the familiar fragments of the arcane turmoil. Coalescing them about her hand she assembled them into the known forms she had innately known from childhood. Two burning shafts of fletched arrow, constructed of pure magic. Both of them she sent slamming into Orik. In his apparently dazed state she trusted they would unerringly find their mark.
            Even at full alert, Orik would have found it impossible to avoid the shafts Amrynn sent at him; they jolted through his armor as though it wasn't there. He grunted in pain, still too dazed to be alarmed at the hot spill of blood over his skin where the arrows had vanished. Behind him, the many Lyrie's eyes grew wide as she realized she might not be as safe as she imagined.
            Though they'd still be hard-pressed as a group to down Orik; thrall though he may be; Devin took opportunity to continue to pester Orik. Best to buy time for Rhaina, Bergi, and Amrynn to regather and prepare a second assault. If together they managed to provoke Orik to step out into the hall proper, they'd flank him. Not a sure win, no, but likely faster than continued attempts to get through the bulwark Orik had established in front of Lyrie.
            Devin conjured a pitchy black ball of shadow in his palm and flicked it towards Orik. Anticipating that the lull in swordplay would soon elapse, he let the runes imbuing his arms and bow evaporate in wisps of dissipating darkness, and pulled fresh power to himself, imbuing his swordhand and shortsword, readying for the continuing fight.
            The faraway look still on his face, Orik made no move to avoid Devin's magic. He paid for that. Startled out of his daydream by the burn of acid as well as the deep sting of Amrynn's magic, he was nevertheless still less than fully awake when Rhaina stepped forth.
            “Thank you Bergi” The paladin re-gripped her sword watching Amrynn and Devin attack Orik with spells,before she spoke lightly to the Elf before her “Fair Amrynn,thank you for the respite. Please,withdraw a step,and permit me to stand where you now do so that I might aid in the fight against Orik,in support of Devin”
            Satisfied with the result of her magics, and aware that Rhaina required space for her blade, Amrynn, immediately upon dispatching her arcane shafts, stepped aside for the Shoanti woman. Together they were overcoming the bulwark that was Orik, though Lyrie lay beyond...
            Orik gasped with pain as Rhaina dispersed the last of the wool in his head with a careful jab through a chink in his armor. He blinked in confusion, finding his hands empty of sword and shield, and with his foes closing in, his blood pattering on the dirt floor.
            "Lyrie, move it! I mean it!" he growled at the women behind him.
            But the group of Lyries seemed incensed beyond reason. "They killed Skivver, and Tsuto!" she shrieked, jabbing her wand at Rhaina once again. Again, the beautiful Shoanti paladin felt the bite of her magic.
            Orik's face hardened at Lyrie's words, and he lunged down to grab his sword, evading Rhaina's swift strike to keep him from it. His shield still lay at his feet, and he hesitated, weaving his sword before him in a defensive pattern. "Lyrie! Get downstairs!"
            "Just shut up, Orik! You don't understand!" Lyrie snarled back. What she couldn't see was the effort with which Orik was keeping his sword in position; Rhaina's cut had obviously (at least, to the party) hurt him.
            Content that no one was bleeding to death only a few feet away, Bergi turned back to the melee at hand which had now turned into something of a standoff. She continued both her song and dance. How quickly she had integrated the awkward weight of Bruthazmus’s bow into her routine was something of a marvel, but she spun easy, lazy circles, providing a warmth and mental respite during the lull in the clash of arms.
            Her dance came to a pointed pause (pun!) near to Amrynn and Rhaina, with one tiny hand holding aloft her slender length of dagger. She must have drawn it sometime during the performance, and she now held her graceful pose, allowing the orchestrated silence to build tension.
            Orik could only spare her a worried glance as the tension mounted; his eyes were on Amrynn and Devin, and on Rhaina's greatsword.
            "Come, Durriken, they won't expect us this way," said the barbarian far more lightly than anyone carrying a severed head should. I'Daiin turned and loped towards the ladder they used to first enter the fort, looking for all the world like a blood soaked wolf on two legs. Sheathing his sword, he maintained a firm grip on Bruthazmus' head and began to scale the way back into the fort, his muscles and very bones still aching from his battle trance.
            "I hope-" Durriken began as he followed I'Daiin up the ladder, still limping a bit from his first unlucky attempt to climb down from the shed in the yard, but what he hoped was cut off by an arrow sailing by I'Daiin. Looking around, the Shoanti warrior spotted a lone goblin in the eastern tower of the fort, peering down at them.
            Bergi’s song continued to lift Amrynn. The lilting, chirping notes she scattered about the room brought a light and liteness to her spirit that quelled in part the frustration she felt at Orik’s stubborn resistance. And the pain of the shaft that still protruded from her body. Her mind had numbed the point of penetration, allowing her to continue unaffected by the grievous wound; she knew this would fade sooner rather than later and pain would raise its beastly head; the thought vaguely worried her.
            Encouraged by the success of the magical shafts she had flung at Orik, she repeated the act. Her ability to pull such strong elements of the chaos together was waning rapidly; she could not extract the order much longer, not to the level she had hitherto accomplished. Still, she must if they were to defeat the odious Orik.
            The magically imbued shafts corkscrewed around both Rhaina and Orik's interposing sword, slamming into the man once more. He gritted his teeth, but couldn't help but make a pained noise; his resolve seemed to be slipping the more blood flowed from under his armor.
            "Careful! I think he's throwing the fight," Devin warned, sotto voce to the party, "he's not as injured as he's making to be!" He added a wink and a smile to Rhaina and Amrynn's questioning looks, making it clear his words were truly intended to reinforce to Lyrie that there was no need to retreat, and Orik was being overcautious or deceitful in the urgency he was expressing to Lyrie.
            "Lyrie, don't listen to them. If you don't back down now, you're going to regret it," Orik warned. He looked as though he would have liked to turn and see what she was doing, but the foes ahead of him precluded that. It seemed he didn't trust her all that much.
            "You're the one who's going to regret it if you don't finish them, now," Lyrie threatened in reply.
            Believing that the best way to take out a defender who had no ranged weapon was to continue to strike him from range, Devin sent another viscous blob of shadow at Orik. As long as Orik couldn't retreat, they could whittle him down bit by bit. If he stepped out to melee, they'd have him just the same.
            Even wounded as badly as he was, Orik was quick enough to avoid the spatter of acid that Devin threw his way - he had felt its burn well enough already. By the twist of his face, though, it had cost him.
            While the Paladin felt better for Bergi’s healing she realized that Orik could still take her down with a single blow and there was also Lyrie’s magic to contend with She moved back past Amrynn,and began an intricate dance with Sword and Martial attack moving in complimentary effort to attract Orik’s attention away from the others “My offer to you still stands Orik.Is she worth dying for.?”
            Her assault was foiled by the corner of the doorway, but only just; Orik's strength was truly flagging. His commitment wavered visibly in his eyes.
            All unwitting, Lyrie had been waiting for the momentary flash of visibility; yet another invisible jolt of magic smashed into the paladin as Lyrie snapped her wand forward.
            Then Orik stepped forward and around the corner as well, back against the wall, his free hand held high and his sword held out from his body. "Sorry, Lyrie," he said with regret. "I like you, but it's like she said - not enough to die. I'll take my chances with the Sarenite."
            "ORIK! You traitor!" Lyrie screamed, her chorus of voices making Orik wince. "Nualia and I will string you up by your guts!"
            Bergi’s song took a decidedly darker turn, lapsing into a semblance of goblin chant as she went about her grisly work.
“A stab to the belly, A stab to the chest, Nasty teeth done gnashing, Now finally at rest.”

            The small blade went up and down with crisp efficiency, sawing into the goblin on the down stroke and flinging lines of blood into the air on the up. Bergi then did a delicate pirouette and paused in silence again, blade poised gracefully and now facing the other fallen goblin. Then out came the song and down came the weapon.
“A stab to the throat, A stab to the eyes, Forever you’ll sleep, As food for the flies.”

            Bergi then spun into pirouettes again, each subsequent line growing louder with each spin.
“No more horses you’ll chop, No more babies are taken, We will never stop, Until Thistledown’s forsaken!”

            As I'Daiin stood pondering the appearance of a goblin still willing to fight, it sent another arrow his way - at least, in his general direction. Durriken ducked reflexively as it sailed overhead.
            "Reinforcements?" he asked the Shoanti as he clambered onto the shed beside him. "We'd better keep moving." He tackled climbing down from the shed once more, but just as last time, his armor was too great a hindrance. With a resounding crash, he fell to the ground. "Ow!"
            "She's mine," Devin was quick to call, to ward Amrynn from charging down the stairs, as he knew she could beat him there if she wished. Devin was the most lightly scathed.
            Amrynn looked on at Bergi's impromptu performance. A shiver rippled down her spine at the sight of the petite halfling girl so delicate and sweet, yet with a jarring dark macabre air draped about her. To the uneducated, and ignorant; those who knew Bergi not; would they think her unhinged, tottering on the brink of insanity? Mayhaps for the benefit of Orik and Lyrie, perhaps that was exactly the mask she wished to show them.
            Orik's apparent surrender caught Amrynn momentarily off guard. Though she reacted swiftly. A handful of steps and her blade came up, point nearing the brute. Her glaring eyes were but two dark windows for Orik to the bubbling anger that broiled within her.
            “Drop the blade, friend,” she muttered, tone and colour shading the word 'friend' into a meaning anything but.
            Perhaps he paused, unwilling to drop the only protection against his foes he could wield.
            “I said,” she rumbled, drawing upon the ocean of hot anger deep in her bosom, “drop the blade... Or do you desire the same fate my halfling friend has mete out to these goblin scum?”
            "Take it easy, sweetheart," Orik said, slowly lowering the blade to the ground. "I'm way more useful to you alive than dead." He didn't seem rattled by Amrynn's threat; perhaps he had been expecting it.
            With Amrynn watching Orik to ensure he stays true she whispered to Devin as he passed “If you go past I’ll follow and we can flank”
            "Follow; together," he flashed Amrynn a reckless grin and flowed around the corner and down the stairs, sword out, all fluid and deadly grace, already looking for a way to get past Lyrie on the stairs such that he and Amrynn could box her into the corner. He jumped at the top of the stairs, doing a neat flip in midair to clear the group of Lyries, landing on the far side of them.
            "Hello, Lyrie," Devin offered pleasantly, following his greeting with a pointed strike of his shortsword. He egged her anger, that she might be further reckless and stand her ground, "Too bad about Skivvers, that."
            Lyrie didn't answer; no matter her fury, her cowardice was greater, and Devin now stood between her and her escape. Adrenalin-fueled alacrity (and a shell of magic much like Amrynn's) kept Devin from cutting one of the group of Lyries now trapped on the stairs.
            To Orik after Devin passed her( and just before she moves “Stay true to your word and so will I”
            Orik raised his hands in a gesture of surrender agreeably enough, though his ruggedly handsome face was as stern as ever. "I'd ask you to spare Lyrie, but..." He shrugged, knowing her probable fate.
            A moment later, Rhaina's sword ripped clean through one of the Lyries - only for the cloaked woman to evaporate off her sword, leaving a handful of panic-stricken Lyries remaining.
            Jumpy as a herd of cats and trying to keep both Devin and Rhaina in view as they kept their backs to the walls, the Lyries uttered an arcane phrase, gestured, and then blinked out of view entirely.
            All the while, Bergi's morbid song continued as she kept up her grisly task.
            Amrynn kept the point of her blade within a hand's breadth of Orik's throat, eyes glued to the man, looking, searching, perhaps hoping for him to give her a reason to release the heat that bubbled through her blood.
            The man was clearly injured. How badly? Amrynn knew not. In reality it mattered little. Let him suffer a bit of pain for a while. Let him feel the sting of his wounds for a time. Might do him good.
            “Orik says do with her as you wish,” she called, her voice and tone pitched for Lyrie's ears more than her companions. Not wholly the truth by his words, though not far away by insinuation.
            Orik's stern features tightened, and he regarded her in reproachful silence.
            Devin shook his head, disappointed, "Invisibility will not save you, Lyrie." The shadows crawled from Devin's sword and swordarm to settle into his eyes, turning them luminescent black. Already skilled in perception, Devin's head tilted slightly, feeling Lyrie's presence more than trying to see her with his eyes. His shortsword struck in again.
            Terrified as she was, Lyrie was quiet as a mouse, even under Amrynn's goading and Devin's attack. His strike hit nothing but air.
            "Stand fast, sword ready, and strike, Rhaina," Devin encouraged. He needed Rhaina engaged with her sword to help keep Lyrie harried and pressed; advantages Devin was able to then exploit.
            Rhaina listened to Devin’s request,gripped her sword and prepared to strike “I understand “ Rhaina thrust into space in a direction Devin hadn't - and was rewarded by a screech as her sword cut into something. There was blood on her blade as she raised it for another swing; it ran down along the edge, gleaming in the steady light of Bergi's arrow.
            Devin's sharp ears caught a whispered incantation from below, but if it had any effect, it wasn't apparent. All the same, the cadence of the vocalization had seemed awfully familiar...
            Bergi heard the whisper for aid amidst the raucous notes of her chant. She adapted to the need swiftly and with her own halfling whimsy. Whirling her poised stance to follow in Rhaina’s footsteps, new words leapt from her lips as she summoned her healing song.
“Smoke ‘em, burn ‘em, bite ‘em hard, The heroes are on the task, Learn ‘em, love ‘em, fight ‘em hard, All you have to do is ask.”

            Swept up in the vigor of her efforts, the back of Bergi’s hand and the flat of the accompanying blade slapped Rhaina hard on the ass. The look of surprise was shared equally between both minstrel and paladin, but the healing energies Bergi had channeled spread forth just the same, radiating outward from her warm handprint toward the worst of Rhaina’s grievances.
            Bergi quickly spun back into her dance, her face flush with effort and shock. She brought her weapon to bear once more and prepared to send the second goblin to meet its monstrous maker. Copious amounts of blood gurgled from the goblins she stabbed, though she found it hard to cut them deeply with her thin arms. Seawater still dripped from her hair and clothes, mingling with the blood on the muddy ground.
            She finished the performance with a flourishing leap, landing once more in her contrasting, artful pose -- a delicate and flowery picture of grace, sodden and caked with the waters and blood of Thistledown’s inhabitants.
            I'Daiin sprinted--well, limped--after Durriken, but the goblin firing arrows at him distracted him at a crucial moment, forcing him to swat the missile away from his eye, and he fell prone when he jumped off the roof of the shed. It didn't hurt him, tough as he was, but getting back to his feet took precious moments.
            Amrynn could feel more than see events unfolding on the stairwell. Though she could sense the gentle nudge of temptation upon her elbow that prompted her to glance down the stairs, she scolded it and sent it on its way. She could ill afford to let her guard down against Orik. He was a crafty, scurrilous soul; wont to take advantage of any situation for his own profit. Amrynn's own short fraught association with the man had taught her that much of the man's character. No, she would keep her sword at his throat and her eyes upon his mien. Offer him no opportunity, give him no chance.
            "I already surrendered," Orik said mildly, leaning against the wall. "If I was going to try anything, I'd have done it by now. You have the word of a Vancaskerkin. Anyway, I didn't really like working here. Sandpoint seems like a nice place."
            "Nice moves, Lyrie," Devin complimented, honestly impressed; she'd slipped by him with barely a brush of air, exhibiting dexterity rivaling his own. The manifestation of the spell upon the next-lower flight of stairs gave credibility to her success -- she would've been unable to cast such a spell at that destination if she was still between himself and Rhaina, as she'd have had no line of sight to exploit.
            "Lyrie's gotten by me and descended further, and she's Greased the stairs. Watch your footing; don't crash into me."
            Devin turned and descended in pursuit, moving in wide steps that drove and wedged the sides of his bootsoles in alternating strides to the extreme left and right edges of the treads. His shortsword was still out, and though his progress was slowed by having to mind his step down the Grease, at reaching the bottom step he lashed out, should Lyrie have been limited to that much progress in her desperate escape. His eyes sought any telltale spatter of blood and trail.
            His shortsword, supernaturally sharp though it was, cut nothing but air as he slashed at the darkness at the bottom of the stairs. Elven-sighted though he was, his eyes could not penetrate the shadows that filled the chamber the stairs opened into. Instead, he was forced to rely upon his ears - a task with an uncertain outcome, with his friends descending behind him.
            “I’m moving to to support Devin. Orik.Where would Lyrie be going? The Paladin stayed long enough to hear an answer,before moving carefully to follow Devin
            Orik's stern but neutral expression never changed. "She'll be heading for Nualia, through her study room. To your right at the bottom of the stairs." He hesitated, then added, "You don't want to let them meet up. Nualia is one tough customer."
            As expected, the stairs were unnaturally slippery, but Rhaina's natural agility allowed her to keep her feet as she moved down behind Devin. As she carefully balanced on the steps, Devin heard the creak of wood and leather, somewhere ahead, possibly to his right.
            Bergi brought her performance to a close. They needed to regroup and she wanted her voice for other matters. In the momentary silence she heard someone coming from behind them.
            “Someone’s coming,” she whispered harshly to Amrynn, all but pressing up against the wounded elf beside her.
            Bergi dropped the cumbersome bow of Bruthazmus and sheathed her bloodied dagger. With a clean motion, she raised her own bow and drew an arrow back until the fletching tickled her cheek. She sighted on the doorway and waited. She almost fired when Durriken burst into the room, but she pulled up at the last moment with a gasp.
            “Durriken! Where is--”
            Durriken entered the fort again, clambering over the wreckage of the barricade that I'Daiin had smashed in. "He's coming. Who's that?" he asked Bergi and Amrynn as he clanked out of the last of the crushed wood and piled sacks. The pooling blood from the goblins made him slip a little in the wet dirt, and he caught himself against the damp wooden wall.
            “We have a prisoner here,” she instructed. “The others are down the stairs, the -greased- stairs, after Lyrie. Durriken, can you help Amrynn?” Bergi’s eyes flicked back and forth between Orik and the arrow in Amrynn’s torso.
            "I'll do my best," the Pharasmin affirmed, pulling out his holy spiral.
            Bergi then whispered a few words of power and the lighted arrow on the floor went dim while the one on her bow glowed brightly.
            Outside, I'Daiin opened the door to the rabbit shed, looking inside at the terrified animals. The door hid him (mostly) from the goblin in the tower, but its head poking above the tower wall promised that it hadn't yet seen fit to depart.
            Bergi's query of Durriken saved Amrynn the need to ask for assistance; she eyed Durriken, her look both asking and accepting the cleric's healing gifts.
            “Nualia?” she echoed. Amrynn didn't recall the name being mentioned in any discussion or talk she had with the rest of the Sandpoint Heroes. “Explain.”
            Orik's brows rose in incredulity. "You... don't know about Nualia? What exactly did you expect to find, here?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I've gotta assume you're here because of the raid. She's the one behind it."
            “Nualia is the adopted daughter of Sandpoint’s former high priest,” Bergi called out, having heard the questions asked by both the long-blooded. “Both were thought killed in a fire some time ago, but Tsuto said Nualia has been leading the goblins’ efforts against Sandpoint. Knowing what we know, beware that she may have been touched by Lamashtu.”
            Bergi’s eyes flicked to Orik when she uttered the goddess’s name, looking for sign of either recognition or shock. What she could read on his face was wary agreement. It seemed to confirm Bergi's warning; Orik didn't appear particularly thrilled with the association.
            She watched him carefully for a moment. He wasn’t a zealot, wasn’t willing to die for the cause. He gave up to save his own skin rather than worry about Lyrie’s. Bergi knew the type. Well, she’d -heard- of the type. She’d never actually met a sellsword though.
            “Are you for hire?” she asked him.
            Bergi reached down and snatched up Bruthazmus’s bow in the brief moment of shocked silence that ensued, and she spoke again before anyone could string together words.
            “Look, there are at least two, no--three, three people here that would throw you off of this rock rather than drag you back to Sandpoint,” she said, then shrugged. “Might be better that way, in truth, because the people of Sandpoint are just going to murder you for what you’ve done here.”
            The wee halfling then mimed a very eerie and accurate gallows drop and swing. “Not pretty,” she said with a squinched face. “Especially the part where you fill your trousers.” She exhaled strongly, gauging her progress with Orik.
            “Well you’re not stupid,” she continued. “And I’m not an idiot. Your patient, a cunning bugger. You’ll wait for your shot, somewhere between here and there, and I’d rather have you where I can see you when you take it.” She drew her dagger for emphasis. “So I can put this somewhere important when the time comes.”
            “Or,” she said, bouncing the flat of her blade gently off his nose. “You could switch sides. Come work for me and maybe start tipping the scales back the other way a bit. Give yourself some better odds. Whaddaya say?”
            Orik nodded soberly. "I see what you're saying. You offering anything besides my life?"

52


            The Paladin leaned in close to Devin “ To the right, through a room. Nualia is near, we must be quick”
            "What's a 'Nualia?'" Devin asked hastily, and without sparing any time to turn his head to pose it. The darkness was more than he could penetrate, and mental inventory confirmed that this was one oh-so-simple obstacle that threatened to stymie him. Devin's free hand dipped to his belt, popped a leather strap, and snapped forward, intuiting the relative lay of the corridor and uttering a prayer to Calistria to guide his throw to exact due vengeance upon Lyrie; she should not so readily escape, not again. Whatever Devin threw brought the corridor to bright flame moments later, and he was off immediately, using the light to practical effect.
            Abruptly, the chamber burst into light - and screams both terrified and agonized reverberated up the stairs. The source of the light was not apparent, but the stink of burning cloth, hair, and skin hinted at what Devin had thrown.
            A single lantern, unlit, hung from a hook on the wall next to the stairs on his right, high above a goblin's reach. Several rickety doors, probably of goblin make, indicated exits from the room - indeed, two were open - and a few discarded fur rugs that looked disturbingly like dog pelts lay forgotten in the corner to his left. The screaming was coming from his right, by one of the open doors. Having carefully stepped out of the magical grease, he pelted into that corner, where he could feel the air moving as what was presumably Lyrie flailed about. Rhaina, hot on his heels, held her sword ready as she tried to guess where to strike.
            "AUGH!" An almost animalistic bray of pain was swiftly followed by Lyrie's cloak appearing from thin air in the middle of the room, burning merrily. Tearful whimpering sounded from somewhere on the floor.
            Some inside part of Devin hurt the moment he realized he'd already made his decision between offering quarter to Lyrie, suffering; and finishing the fight. His shortsword, in hand the entire time, followed his heightened senses to strike into where Lyrie was surely curled and near-mortally wounded upon the floor. Until she was dead, she was still profoundly dangerous -- he could speak personally that quarter was most difficult to grant to those able with magic. He didn't relish the need, nor the act, but nor did he hesitate. Whether she had been the first to step from the stairway door, or whether he'd landed the telling blow in the first battle, the intention to put her and the harm she caused and reveled within to an end did not waver, and did not change. Devin's will and blade were both of definitive honed intent as he slashed forth in what he hoped would be the conclusion of her pain. His sword audibly caught and tore cloth, and he could feel Lyrie desperately roll away from his blade, still making horrible noises of pain as her burned flesh touched the earth.
            Rhaina followed Devin,certain in her heart that Lyrie deserved the fate she was about to receive. She watched warily and waited to see if he managed to finish the sorceress
            Still unable to see Lyrie, and with the firelight dying away, she turned to other senses. Opening her mind to Sarenrae's sight, she searched for the evil she believed lay in Lyrie's heart.
            Unexpectedly, Sarenrae found nothing so evil as to warn Rhaina within her sight.
            Both Devin and Amrynn, with their elven ears, could hear the sound of Lyrie painfully rummaging in her pouch, then swallowing some liquid.
            Durriken breathed a prayer to Pharasma, and at his touch, the offending arrow was expelled from Amrynn's body.
            Whether Orik was forthright, or even forthcoming, on this Nualia, Amrynn, upon Durrkien's word, and with a brief hand upon his arm in thanks, she made for the stairs and the deeper regions of Thistletop fort. Devin, Rhaina and others would need help if Orik's dire warning was anywhere near the truth. Behind her, the goblin shaft rolled against the wall, mercifully freed from her body.
            Lamashtu? The Demon Queen? The Mother of Monsters? The echo of Bergi’s words chilled her hot blood. Not quelled it, merely cast the heat of her rage with a dark light of fear. She did not recognise Nualia. Perhaps her friends had not mentioned her, or she had absented herself from their company before her name was mentioned. But she knew, rather she had heard, of Lamashtu. And that this Nualia should apparently be in league with the Demon Mother cast their quest upon Thistletop with darker consequence.
            She cast her eyes quickly about the small room the stairs opened into. She looked for Devin, for Rhaina, and she searched for Lyrie. She saw first two; her companions. She heard the last, somewhere within the chamber. She noted Devin posture, crouched, aggressive, death on his mind. Orik and Lyrie had worked in concert, to assail and assault she and her companions. Such was the way of such motivation; what went around, came around.
            Her sword she had sheathed, her crossbow she had in her hand, loaded and ready to fire. Eyes searched the room. Nualia, apparently, was nearby. Amrynn was not eager to meet her.
            There were doors scattered about the room. More than one. All closed. She could be behind any one of them. Or none of them.
            Even as she moved down the steps, I'Daiin entered the fort, his bulk dimming the morning light from outdoors for a moment. In one hand, he held Bruthazmus' dripping head.
            The Shoanti seemed weary, stepping laboriously through the debris by the doorway, but on spotting Orik, he grinned and reached for his sword.

53


            Bergi laughed and said, “Oh, you are a salty one.” Then she tilted her head a little and said with a pout, “Or is it that you just value your life so little?”
            Lyrie’s screams echoed as I’Daiin lugged his storm of flesh and metal into the fort. Bergi’s eyes lit up as she saw what the barbarian was carrying.
            “No matter. Here comes one of those three I mentioned now,” she said, returning her attention to Orik. “You’ve skill, granted, and clearly your loyalty is to the coin, fair enough. Four gold for this week with bonuses for exceptional action, a pair of silver for every goblin head you bring me, -plus- I do whatever I can to keep you alive once we reach Sandpoint.”
            “Now,” she finished, nodding in I’Daiin’s direction. “You can accept my offer…or his.”
            Orik took one look at the Shoanti bearing down on him with his grisly prize, and took a step back. "You've got a deal," he agreed, perhaps a touch hurriedly.
            Bergi nodded once to the mercenary and placed herself bodily between I’Daiin and Orik. She raised a hand to stop the Shoanti. When he didn’t show signs of slowing, she leveled Bruthazmus’s bow tip toward his midsection and said, “I’Daiin, NO. This one works for me now. I’ll take responsibility for him.”
            "You're making strange friends, little one," I'Daiin rumbled, shooting a dark look at Orik. Orik took another step back. "But I trust you to judge who is and is not worthy of your company. Of course, if he turns out to be unworthy, I can always kill him then." His grin was not comforting.
            She stood her ground and waved the barbarian down the stairs with her dagger. “Go on. They need you, and mind the stairs. They’re greasy.”
            "Mere slippery steps are no challenge to a Shoanti!" I'Daiin growled, sword in one hand and Bruthazmus' head in the other as he descended. Orik stared after him; it wasn't every day you saw something like that!
            If Rhaina would be able to retrieve and ignite a Sunrod she would say ?Devin wait for my light?
            Devin did not explain why he did not, but he did not pause and shifted after Lyrie, striking again. Even as he did so, he called quick coordination to ward her escape. "Amrynn, ward the passage to your south; I'Daiin, to Amrynn's position at center; Rhaina, to the northwest corner, blocking the corridor. Lyrie is invisible, here, and prone, and badly wounded. Discard something; cover the floor; and she will be revealed to you with Rhaina's light. She is agile and may get past you if you leave an opening."
            He ripped off his own cloak and tossed it to crumple upon the floor at the foot of the door to the west.
            In the pitch blackness that enveloped them once again, he could not see if his cloak struck anything - but he could certainly feel it, as he tripped over Lyrie's prone form. She yelped as well, still tender from the burning she had suffered. Agile as a cat, Devin managed to keep his feet, though his attack was foiled by the surprise.
            Everyone could hear Rhaina rummaging through her pack, searching for her sunrods by touch. She must have found them, for a moment later, golden light spilled throughout the chamber, much more steady than the flickering light Devin had provided for a few moments before.
            In that light, they could see Devin's cloak had settled on thin air in the shape of a woman at Devin's feet. She untangled herself from the cloth even as they watched, though Amrynn noted that it pulled a bit toward the open doorway Devin had occupied, suggesting where Lyrie had gone.
            Amrynn reacted; she didn’t think, she didn’t question. Devin had directed, she acquiesced.
            Stepping swiftly to the southern door she set herself as sentinel to the portal. She had neglected to wear a cloak that morn, favouring the freedom of movement its absence afforded her. She had kept herself light, agile, quick. And alert. She spotted the movement of the cloak, a clue to Lyrie's direction.
            “Through the doorway. Devin,” she called the half-elf's name even as she stepped forth. “Past you.”
            Approaching the threshold of the passage she caught Devin's eye; a silent question passed to him. 'Do you go first? Or I, senses alert?' She had only her magical protection and her crossbow and sword. She trusted her magic, but she was no fighter. And her command of the energies that coursed through her waned dangerously low.
            And then to Rhaina. The same question.
            Dependent on dear Devin's and Rhaina's guidance she prepared to enter the corridor, leading or following.
            "Do whatever you can to locate her; I'll get past you and her and cut her off again. She can't have gotten far."
            “Caution,do not expose yourself to anyone that might be down the corridor,but by all means do look”
            Amrynn moved carefully down the passage, the reflected light from Rhaina's sunrod more than enough to see by for her elven eyes. She didn't bump into Lyrie, but on reaching the first intersection, she glanced around the corner to see two large stone doors, their faces carved with images of horrific, deformed monsters clawing their way out of pregnant women of all races. The gloom in which they lay seemed all too appropriate.
            I'Daiin moved into the other open passage, scowling into the dark before turning his back to the wall so that he could see both into the hall and into the chamber the others stood in. "She won't get out this way," he promised. Indeed, he all but filled the passage!
            Once the threat was past, Bergi turned and saw Orik bending to retrieve his sword. She stepped on it and shook her head. “No, sir, leave it,” she said. “Here, carry this.” She handed him the bugbear’s wicked bow and motioned for him to head down the stairs after the barbarian. The fact that Orik had no arrows to go with the bow was not lost on Bergi, but she wasn’t ready to arm her new man to the teeth just yet.
            "Even if I was in any condition to use this, the pull is too strong for me," Orik noted. "I won't do you as much good down there without that sword."
            “Just look pretty for now,” she said as she began to follow him down the stairs, assuming Durriken would bring up the rear. “Intercede on our behalf, protect us, as you can,” Bergi added to Orik’s back as they carefully descended. “And we’ll see about a weapon, and maybe some healing for you.” She was just glad to have him along as another target for Lyrie, or Nualia’s, ire, but she hoped he might come in handier than that.
            “Orik’s with me!” she shouted ahead to warn the others, so his presence wouldn’t startle them.
            By some miracle, Durriken navigated the unnaturally slippery steps down to the lower level of Thistletop without falling... until Orik slipped, and crashed into him, sending them both crashing down the steps to land in a pile at the bottom.
            Durriken groaned, but Orik lay still where he'd fallen, knocked cold.
            Bergi, in her bare feet, skipped and slipped lightly from one step to the next, coming to a graceful twirling stop behind the men.

The Second Cycle