The StormWatch Chronicles
As seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer
Part 12
Update: 19/05/1998 to drano
April 27, 597
Well, it's been a while. . .
Tempus had left me behind and gone off to do something dangerous. Waiting for
him caused me to miss
Northstar's funeral and Tristamere's travels to meet with a spirit. Disgruntled,
I headed to the mountains to
spend some time soul-searching. I spent the winter months in the mountain, training
in the art of armor-
smithing and working directly for King Maluk. I had many things to think about
since I left, and some
lessons to learn in the arts of healing from Dame Lilith.
Occasionally, I would meet with Delahr, who was traveling the realm. He would
keep me updated on
events and share stories of his travels. I've always thought that adventure
found its way to him, and this
held true. He was offered a squireship to Sir Victdar, knight of Eastwyck. Delahr's
dream has been to
become noble and do something for the commoners of the land. My hearty congratulations
go to him,
though I'll miss his company on the team. It was he who first told me that the
team, Stormwatch, was in
danger of fragmenting. So I finally came down the mountain and returned to Ravenholt
this Spring.
On the way to the Duchy, I received a letter from Cynesra, stating that she
needed to leave Ravenholt soon.
I'll miss her dearly - she is more than a mentor to me, even more than a valued
friend and associate.
Upon arriving in the Duchy, I discovered that we had moved from our former
residence with Eastwyck.
Our new quarters were with the baronies of Capulus and Westmarch. Gabriel, Chastity,
Borax, Nork,
Adrian the War-Dog, and Koryon were already there. Bishop and Tempus would be
arriving on the
morrow. Tristemere was there, as well, sporting her black and gold colors.
The Baron Derek Northridge greeted us and welcomed us to the lodging. He stated
that if we needed
anything, we had only to ask.
A glance out the window showed a panoramic view of the fields under a cloud-filled
sky. A light rain soon
soaked anything that stayed out too long. I grabbed a cot, and headed up to
the main hall, where Duke
Andros greeted everyone with a formal ceremony. Here, I spoke to Koryon, who
said Tempus would soon
be here and I should be aware of his change. Apparently, he underwent a ritual
which transformed him
back into the celestial caster I first met. With the change, not only did his
ability to wield magic return, but
his mind returned as well. I suppose his transformation last year affected his
mind, for he was never quite
"all there" afterward.
We soon took to the field, to patrol the lands and protect the Duchy. In one
corner of the Great Field, stands
a tomb. The tomb is for someone called Basil, or Bazul, or Bassille, or something
like that. Anyway, at
about midnight, with the light rain still falling, a bright light flashed near
the tomb. We went to investigate
and discovered a horrific sight: corps of walking dead were unearthing themselves
from near the tomb.
Their bony claws were pushing aside grass and soil, to allow their worm-ridden
bodies access to the
surface. They began to shuffle toward a group of nearby townsfolk.
We rushed to assist the scattering people, blades and spells at the ready.
We crashed into their ranks like a
shot from a catapult. Pieces of rotting flesh flew everywhere as Gabriel and
Nork let fly their whirling
swords of destruction. Other people came to assist; I can't remember all the
houses, but I saw members of
Arkham, Eastwyck, Dragonshire, and the Ducal Household, as well as many others.
I noticed that the sheer number of undead was more than I'd ever seen before
(except in Nikijo's realm). As
fast as we cut them down, they crawled from the earth to slay the living and
feed upon their flesh. The
stench was incredible, and a saw a few warriors struggling to breathe. I've
grown accustomed to the smell,
so I managed to stay up and alert, and what I saw distressed me greatly. Some
of the animated corpses were
throwing balls of elemental fire. These are creatures of cold, and I've seen
a few hurl the chill from the
grave like a rock, but these were throwing fire! Something was definitely very
wrong!
The battle took some time, but finally ended with no casualties. We spent the
rest of the night relaxing by a
warm fire in the Baron's hall.
The following day, I arose to a warm mug of -- what did Borax call it? -- Cocoa?
The day was overcast, but
drier. Tempus and Bishop had arrived in the early morning. So I had a few words
with Tempus, and we
reconciled our differences. I got to speak with the new Squire Delahr, who looked
dapper in his fine, new
black-and-white clothes, though I fear his sword-work has suffered over the
winter season as I saw the
Baron hand him a "fatty" in a friendly sparring match.
The afternoon was clearing up and the town was abuzz with rumors of a tourney.
The Duke allowed a
traveling group to sponsor a friendly tournament for prizes. Some of the prizes
included complete
spellbooks and a finely crafted sword. Many of our team entered the competition,
thoroughly abstained,
having no love for aggressive sport. Ezeriah, the gypsy, ousted Gabriel's sword-work.
I was surprised,
thinking Gabriel's ability with a blade unsurpassed by most, but I guess the
cold season hadn't done much
to keep him loose and limber. War-Dog made a valiant attempt, as well.
In the end, though, it came down to two masters of the sword and shield - Baron
Northridge and Nork. The
two fight in the same manner -- sword in the right hand, shield on the left
-- but the two have somewhat
different styles. Personally, I tend to fight in a very defensive manner, picking
my opponent apart when
they overextend. The Baron and Nork both fight very offensively, overpowering
their opponents with sheer
speed and power. The two titans came together in a might clash and ringing of
steel. Sword met shield
again and again. Finally, Nork literally slid under the Baron's sword to one
knee and proceeded to greet the
good Baron with a flurry of blows that came so quickly, it sounded like one
long bell-toll. The Baron,
amazingly, muscled his shield about, catching each and every blow - AND managed
to counter-attack with
blows of his own. Unfortunately for him, Nork managed to block the counters
with his own shield. All the
while keeping up an incredibly rapid series of sword-strokes on the Baron. Time
seemed to stand still for a
moment, the two heroes flailing away, but finally the end came. The Baron could
not hope to keep his
shield moving as quickly as Nork's blade for long, and inevitably, Nork managed
three blows on the
Baron's seemingly impenetrable defense.
The two congratulated each other on superb swordplay, and the casting tournament
began. I warmed
Tempus up, as it was he who would enter to represent our team. I can hardly
remember all the spells that
were thrown, but I do remember two battles. In the earth casting event, the
number of contestants was
uneven, so a substitute was needed for one battle. One of the most famous templars,
Thorondar, was pacing
the edge of the field when the call for a substitute was made. He looked up,
saw me standing with Tempus,
and said, "Drano, why don't you go stand in?"
"Me?" I thought. I didn't even realize that someone as high up the
social ladder as Thorondar knew who I
was!
"Yes," he said with a smile, "go ahead!"
I approached the arena, and prepared myself. I had not cast any spells in an
offensive manner in a very long
time. I've just been a healer. I looked across the area and saw the competition,
an able caster from a place
unknown to me. He was, in turn, looking at me -- sizing me up, I suppose. In
short order, the tourney-
master called the combat to start.
I stood ground and launched a few binding spells in his direction. He dodged
them easily, and I knew that
he could outmaneuver me, given the chance. So I decided not to give him the
chance. I began a slow stride
forward and really started letting spells fly. Aiming more precisely, I got
him really moving, never
changing my own slow stride. A flurry of binding spells flew from my fingertips,
missing the agile caster
by mere inches. But then he made his worst mistake. The near-hits made him dodge
so much, he was never
able to return spellfire, and his dodging, though good, was very similar.. He
continually ducked and
crouched. So I lowered my aim and soon scored with mock death spells. I finished
the battle having only
cast ten spells. My opponent hadn't even launched one.
Tempus, meanwhile, had lost the celestial magic contest, but had made it to
the final round of the earth
casting competition. He was pitted against one of the Baron's men -- Narik.
A mighty caster in his own
right, and able dodger as well. Another test of titans, to be sure. The two
went at each other, casting and
dodging, until, by mere seconds, Tempus managed to sneak a spell past Narik's
defenses, winning the
contest. As true gentlemen, they also congratulated each other.
We soon found that each of the winners had not yet won. "Tonight,"
the tourney-master said, "you have
earned the right to fight my champions." So it seemed that Tempus and Nork
each had one more battle to
win.
Gabriel decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with his friend and mentor,
Forest Lord Ehawk. Some
affliction, similar to the 'blight" form last year, was draining the Forest
Lord, and he was dying. I asked to
spend the time with Gabriel, as he needed to protect the Forest Lord from harm.
Two years ago, when Delahr and I were new to Ravenholt, we belonged to a group
called Lioncourt. Our
leader was Tempus, and the others consisted of Delahr, Koryon, Scourge the half-ogre,
and myself. We
were asked by Ehawk to recover his courage, which he had lost. Lord Ehawk had
never looked down at us,
and I found great respect for an individual of his stature that didn't belittle
the common folk. So now, I
wished to help him again, in any way I could.
At six o'-clock every night, an unusual event takes place. I think it has something
to do with the rotation of
the earth, but when it reaches a certain point in it's revolution, each caster
becomes infused with magical
energies. This cleanses the old energies from the caster, and refreshes them.
It's kind of like emptying a
glass of water and filling it with fresh water every day. The body is the glass,
the water represents the
magical energy. A caster can use this energy over the course of the next 24-hour
period, sipping from the
glass. At six o'-clock, the glass is refilled. In any case, at this magical
time, most casters seek to deplete
their "glasses" knowing they will fill again in a few moments. This
is also the time when warriors and
rogues feel invigorated. Their glasses are filled instead with concentration,
or a "sixth-sense" allowing them
to strike their mightiest blows or deftly dodge certain death.
I mentioned to Cynesra that I had yet to practice my ninth circle spells. She
suggested I approach Kestryn,
the Rogue, and attempt my "death" spell. I looked at her, horrified,
but she smiled and stated that she would
help in case something went wrong, as she had a few ninth-circle spells left
herself. She felt that Kestryn
was more than able to dodge the spell. Also, she was a personal friend and wouldn't
mind helping me in my
lessons. Little did I know I had a greater lesson to learn!
I approached Kestryn -- now mind you, I have seldom spoken to this elf-woman,
and then, only in passing!
-- I asked to speak with her a moment. A quick glance told me that Cynesra was
nearby watching -- she
would be monitoring my skill -- with a funny sort of smile across her feline
features. Kestryn approached
and looked up at me in askance.
"Yes?" she asked.
I quickly murmured my spells, "With Mystic Force I pin you, I grant you the gift of Death!"
I watched her eyes go wide in astonishment, and all I thought was, "Oh
please, oh please! Dodge it! Dodge
it!" Then, in the blink of an eye, she maneuvered around me and slipped
the effects of my spell. Cynesra
hurried up, to prevent an altercation, and I hastily explained what was being
done. She chuckled, relieved,
then said, "Now you can help me train! Turn around!"
I've heard tales of how a rogue can sneak up on you and strike a blow on the
back of the head in order to
knock someone unconscious. A very few have mastered this art to the point that
they are able to actually
kill someone in such a manner. I felt a sharp blow on the back of my head, and
the next thing I knew, I was
staring up into Cynesra's furry face. Kestryn reached down and helped me up,
and laughingly suggested we
train with each other more often! I don't know about dat -- dere -- ding. .
. .
A few hours later found me in front of the fire in the Baron's hall, supping
on some sort of grainy dish made
with pork. Quite tasty. Two knights of Arkham had joined me, one -- a dwarf
named Sir Dougan. All was
comfortable by the blazing warmth, until a draft from the door caused me to
look up. A messenger from the
Healer's Guild had arrived asking for Tempus. Tempus, I knew, was foraging in
the deep woods, so I asked
why he needed Tempus. The young lad replied that a young woman was at the Guild
asking for Tempus, so
the Guild had sent him to find this "Tempus." I quickly grabbed my
weapons and headed out with the
messenger.
He took me to the Guild where I met this courier. She turned a letter over
to me which I hastily read. The
letter was from the tourney-master requesting Tempus' presence for his final
combat . . . now! I rushed to
the meeting place and met Gabriel and Baron Northridge. I explained about Tempus
being out hunting, and
the Baron offered his caster, Narik, as a replacement. If he won the battle,
Tempus and Narik would, once
again, battle it out for the book. With all in agreement, Narik proceeded to
pick apart the defenses of the
tourney-master's champion. The champion, though an able dodger, was unable to
avoid the terrible
onslaught of spells that Narik threw.
Tempus arrived shortly after the fight, and the small battle was about to begin.
I was asked to judge Narik,
while the Baron judged Tempus. The battle was quick, and this time, sadly, Narik
won. I didn't know Narik
well before the match, but I have found him very noble and my respect for him
has increased greatly -- not
only for his nobility, but his casting prowess as well. Tempus, who hadn't cast
a spell since early last year
did remarkably well, and I believe he will make an even better showing in next
month's Commoner's
Tourney.
Nork had defeated the champion in battle, and had won the prize of the sword.
It was so well made that I
believe it will resist the shattering effects of many celestial spells! Gabriel
had shown up to support his
friend, and with him, was the emaciated Ehawk. Suddenly, Ehawk strode for the
tavern. Gabriel followed,
and I, in turn, tailed him.
We went upstairs to the upper floor wherein the gypsies rest when traveling
through Ravenholt. The gypsy
leader, Houlie, admitted us, and I saw a gypsy living space for the first time.
The walls were awash in all manners of colors. Drapes of every hue lined the
walls and smoke from their
cook-fire filled the room with a pleasant-smelling haze. Gypsies sat all around,
clad in equally vibrant garb
with bells and chimes and jewelry hanging from every available body-part. I've
heard it said that there is
not a better-dressed warrior than a gypsy warrior. Now I see why.
Ehawk had collapsed on a cushion, Gabriel was attending to him. I was left
near one corner of the room,
waiting to see if I had to run for medicinal herbs or healers of greater power
than my own.
While I stood there, I scanned the room. My eyes rove over many people, until
they were met by the
greenest eyes I'd ever seen. OK, I'd seen them twice before. They belonged to
Dame Lililth, my new
teacher. She has an amazing healing ability, which I'd asked her to teach me.
She agreed, and bade me
practice healing specific wounds as opposed to infusing an individual with healing
magic. She gave me this
directive last Fall, and I'd been practicing all winter long.
The eyes floated my way until they were no farther than a breath away. Then
a mouth formed under them
and spoke.
"Greetings, Drano. How go the lessons?"
I replied that I had learned her first lesson, and was ready for the next,
so she asked me to meet her in two
days to learn the second lesson.
Lord Ehawk was up and moving again, so I had to end our conversation and follow
Gabriel quickly out the
door. Outside the tavern, Gabriel bade me go join the others, as night was falling.
He and Ehawk would be
all right, so I hastened back to the Baron's hall to meet the others.
The night was warm and drier, and StormWatch, minus Gabriel and Nork, took
to the field to thwart the
return of the walking dead. I have to admit that the team worked better than
ever before, even with the loss
of fifty percent of its casters. Tristemere and Chastity were with us, and between
them, Borax, and myself,
we were in no shortage of healing magic. Koryon and Bishop would carve swathes
through advancing
undead, with Borax raining blows on heads from behind the shield wall of the
two warriors.
We were only pressed twice. At one point, Koryon and Bishop had formed their
shield wall with Borax
behind it. Tempus and War-Dog were floating around as they are wont to do, and
Chastity and Tristemere
were behind them providing supporting spellfire. I was behind them all, my job
was to watch the battle and
keep an eye on our flanks and rear. Suddenly and silently, from the darkness
behind us, emerged three of
the staggering corpses. I moved to defend Tristamere and Chastity, as I was
the only thing between them
and the undead.
The three feral, undead creatures would lunge at me, one after the other, and
I would block a flurry of
blows with my shield. I could feel their diseased talons scraping at the metal,
and was glad I had it between
them and me. I would hack at one as it came in, but then was forced to parry
and block the claws as they
came slashing like buzzing flies. I called for assistance, as I didn't feel
I could keep the three of them off for
long, and was delighted as it arrived in the form of Borax over my left shoulder,
and Tempus on my right. I
heard Tempus begin casting and watched fire leap from his fingers, searing the
flesh from the bones of the
nearest two. Borax and I made short work of the remaining one, and I beamed
with pride. Borax has come
so far in such a short time, and I am so very glad to have the "old"
Tempus back!
Later, in the evening, Gabriel and Nork met us, and we were back to our full
strength. Gabriel asked us to
help -- Ehawk was going into the forest to cleanse a magic pool, and they thought
this might help the
effects of the blight.
It was dark, but the moon shone through the clouds in places, as the sky cleared
itself of obscuring clouds.
We arrived at a clearing in the deep woods, where lay a magical pool, attended
by two dryads. We took up
posts in three different places around the pool along with members of the Healer's
Guild and some Drae
elves. Ehawk was attempting to help the dryads cleanse the pool with a ritual
magic.
Soon, the serenity of the area was interrupted by the walking dead. These were
fairly tough ones, but
"normal" in that they didn't throw fire. The Healer's Guild has actually
classified this form of undead, as I
guess they're fairly common, as "Revenants." In any case, these revenants
seemed to come from
everywhere, and though we weren't sorely pressed, it was an exhausting battle
that lasted near an hour.
Finally, the pool was clean, and we began our retreat. The Revenants wouldn't
let us leave, though, so we
had to fight our way out of the forest. Gabriel and Nork would face the enemy,
while I patched their armor,
as we retreated down the forest path. Ehawk directed the exodus and finally
got everyone to safety.
StormWatch retired to the Voltan Bear Tavern for a rest and some drinks. A
baker was there, and both
Gabriel and Nork bought his wares. Spiced bread was the fare, and it was quite
good. How do I know? A
few stray undead had come to the tavern door, and Nork and Gabriel quickly jumped
to dispatch them.
Tristemere watched, as I looked at the door, at the bread, and at the door,
then the bread again, before I
quickly stuffed a handful of the delectable stuff in my mouth. It was a lot
easier swinging my sword with
something in my stomach, but speaking incants to spells was much more difficult.
Got milk?
Most of the group retired after that, but Gabriel, Nork, and myself took to
the field one last time, to insure
that the sleeping townsfolk were in no danger. Well after midnight, we met Baron
Northridge, Lord Ferral,
and one of the Baron's Squires. They were doing the same thing we were. Except,
I think they had had a bit
too much to drink. At one point, after dispatching a nauseatingly rotted zombie,
the Baron requested a
magical poison protectant. I stepped up and administered the magic spell as
requested, and was thanked by
a hearty embrace.
"Thank you! Thank you, brother! You are my brother now, like Gabriel!
You and I are brethren. Kneel!
Kneel!" bellowed the Baron. Unsure of what was transpiring, I knelt.
"I Knight you Lord Protector of Lower Mumblehmmer! You need to report there Thursday!"
"But Baron," asked Lord Ferral, "I'm Lord Protector of Lower Mumblehmmer."
"No longer! Step aside!" charged the Baron. Lord Ferral looked hurt,
which is a strange expression on a
Stone Elf, and scurried off to his dwelling.
Stunned and confused, I received a pat on the back from Gabriel, and we went
on our way. After a short
rhythmic interlude, we turned in for the night.
The next afternoon, Nork called a meeting of the remaining members of StormWatch.
We had to determine
the status of the team. Whether we were to remain a team in our own right, hire
ourselves out to another
group, or disband all together and go our own ways, we needed direction. The
group decided unanimously
to remain a force in our own right, and to continue to do what we formed the
team in the first place for - to
defend those that cannot defend themselves, and to make the Duchy a "better"
place to live.
The next question was regarding leadership. Our old leader, Cynesra, had decided
to go her own way.
Three members of the team were nominated for leadership - Gabriel, Nork, and
myself. Shocked, but
elated, I knew I would do all in my power to keep this group together. In a
rare performance of verbal
execution, Bishop spoke.
"You each have great qualities that will enable you to lead this group,"
he said. "But you each have a few
small flaws that need to be brought into the open. Gabriel, you have a tendency
to become "pissy" quickly.
A moody person will have some difficulty leading a group of personalities as
we are. Nork, your weakness
is the ladies. It seems women come first for you. Drano, you're rather new to
Ravenholt and don't know
many nobles, so they will be hesitant to speak with you."
With all that said, perhaps the most speaking Bishop has done in the past two
years, Nork, Gabriel, and I
had to step aside to discuss this turn of events. Nork suggested I get the position,
Gabriel offered Nork as
his choice, and I suggested Gabriel as the best nominee. Undecided, we agreed
to lead the team as a group,
no matter who was the official figurehead. We turned to the team and put the
decision on their shoulders,
saying that we'd be agreeable to whoever was chosen, and that we felt our votes
should not count.
A vote was made, and Gabriel was chosen as the leader of StormWatch. Soon after,
Baroness Ganthe of
Eastwyck asked for Borax and I. Surprised, I wondered what the Baroness would
want with us. It appeared
that there might be some old trouble with Gabriel that might make conversation
with him uncomfortable.
She merely asked us what was going on with the team. Apparently, rumors were
running rampant about the
dissension in the team. We assured her all was well, and informed her of the
new leader of the group. She
stated she was pleased that we were holding together and suggested if we wanted
anything that we could
come to her and ask. Honored, I remembered when she didn't know who I was, and
was pleased that she
could speak with a "commoner" such as myself.
Later that day, I met with Baron Northridge and checked to see if I was really
a knight or if he really had
too much to drink the night before. He replied with a chuckle and stated, "Thank
you very much for
checking me on that. Last night, I was -- well -- not at my best, shall we say.
You are hereby released from
your duties!" With a sigh, I went off to see what a hubbub in the Town
Square was about.
A large force had gathered and was going to a cavern, outside of town, to defeat
the supposed master of the
undead that plagued us the past two nights. They called him the Revenant King,
and said he was well
guarded and too powerful to defeat at night. He had a magic crown, sword, and
throne. Whenever he was
defeated in battle, he would reform at his throne. Whenever he touched a fallen
person on the battlefield
with his sword, they would immediately rise, undead, and fight for him. The
entirety of the town massed
for this epic battle, but didn't realize that only a small number of heroes
would be able to negotiate the tight
corridors of the cavern.
As it turned out, only a small group was able to get in the cavern. The rest
had to stay outside the cave
entrance and guard the rear, as hundreds of zombies attempted to get in and
thwart the efforts of those
inside.
I was to guard Gabriel and provide healing, but the slippery little elf squeezed
between two large warriors -
- one was the giant, Tavak -- and disappeared from sight around a corner. I
could hear the hideous sounds
of battle ahead, but couldn't catch up to him. Finally, the corridor opened
up into a chamber where the main
battle was going on. Bodies of dismembered zombies were all about, and the fight
had encroached a dais
upon which sat the throne. I saw Tristemere, who had come in another way. She
was backing up Nork with
healing.
Joining her, we caught up to Nork and Gabriel, who were fighting side by side
as always. Nork had caught
up to the Revenant King and, in his patented fighting style, was harrying the
King's knees with blows.
Gabriel was behind him at the base of the dais, but could approach no closer,
as he could not ascend the
dais. A member of the Court of Eastwyck was near, however. A big man, who in
an amazing feat of
strength, lifted Gabriel in one arm, and set him on the stage. While in the
air, Gabriel's sword went into
motion, and between, Nork's blows from below, and Gabriel's from above, the
Revenant King was
overwhelmed!
Continued on the following page. . . .
The battle was not yet over, however, for we still had to escape the caverns.
We emerged from the cave to
find the rest of the heroes beset upon by the undead legion. Nork and Gabriel
quickly joined the front line,
and I moved to back them.
I looked up, just as one revenant had decided to rush the line. A hole had
opened in front of me, and it took
the opportunity to attack. I let loose with a spell as a man called Lord Arracor
hastened to assist me.
Between his mighty blows and my spells, the creature was felled and the hole
in the line plugged.
I wheeled around then, and did a double take. Tristemere was down and bleeding
profusely. A brave
townsman had begun administering first aid to stop the bleeding, but that wouldn't
be enough. Another man
was standing over her -- why? I don't know -- I batted him out of the way with
my shield and summoned
magical energies to close the wounds as Dame Lillith had suggested. The wounds
closed completely, and
helped the now conscious Tristemere to her feet.
We fought a retreat from the cave and were able to get everyone out alive,
thought the tenacious living-
dead sought to follow us halfway back to town!
Back at the hall, I prepared to take my leave. Many others of the group had
done so already. I had most of
the team's treasury, though, and had to give it to those who were staying. There
was no one to be found,
though. They were somewhere out in the fields. Since it was after the magical
time of renewal, my "glass"
of spells was full. Squire Delahr would be traveling forth from Ravenholt with
me, so I grabbed him and
asked for him to join me in finding the rest of Stormwatch on the field.
I, somewhat foolishly, left my sword and shield behind, relying only on my
spell-power. Soon Delahr and I
met up with a small group of townsfolk who were set upon by orcs. I unleashed
a few spells and Delahr
went to work with his sword, and soon the people were safe. We looked in the
tavern, thinking the others
were there. "Indeed, they had been, not too long ago," said the tavern-keeper.
So we went back to the fields.
It was refreshing; the day had been sunny, and now the night was warm and clear.
The moon and stars
filled the heavens -- a beautiful canopy. Delahr looked at me and grinned. "Just
like old times, eh, Drano?"
I heartily agreed. It had been a long time since he and I had traveled forth
at night by ourselves like this.
We had been traveling with others for the past year, and before that, we were
too scared to travel alone at
night. There is something to be said for experience. We felt, at that moment,
we could tackle the world.
Another scream pierced the serenity of the moment. "HELP!" it yelled.
Delahr and I swapped glances. He repeated, "Just like old times!"
and we broke in a run to aid whoever was
in need.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Some really tough trolls had felled a number of townsfolk, but the trolls were
no match for the two
templar's blades and magic. The human and dwarf fought as though they had done
so forever, each one's
style complimenting the others. They went through the nasties with relative
ease. Then, while the white-
and-black clad human continued driving them off, the other -- a dwarf in a blue
and black tabard with the
emblem of the "eye in the storm" -- healed the fallen. A couple of
them were wounded severely, but a few
healing spells got them on their feet and going.
The dwarf came upon one poor fellow, though, who must've been down for some
time. He bent down with
the seeming care of a parent to a child, and examined the body of the young
man, felled in the thick of
combat. He was indeed dead, but his spirit had yet to let go of the body. The
dwarf looked up at the starry
sky, thanking all his teachers for showing him the arts of healing. Then, he
carefully laid hands upon the
young lad's chest. A shimmering light encompassed his hands as he called upon
the powers of the earth and
whispered, "I grant you the gift of Life."
The young man's eyelids fluttered, and he struggled to sit up.
"Easy," said the old dwarf. "You've taken quite a blow."
He called up more magic and healed the gaping wounds, still left by the angry
blade of some troll. Then he
gave him some protective spells and helped him to his feet. The young lad looked
staggered by the turn of
events, thinking that battle had been his last, and said in a quavering voice,
"Good sir, thank you! But . . .
who are you?"
The old grizzled dwarf looked up, sparkling dark eyes and a toothy smile belying
his apparent age, and
spoke a phrase he'd last uttered over a year ago.
"Drano . . . of StormWatch."