Serenity: Part 1, Act II

The Greystone Inn was a large two story stone building with dark wood trim. Inside it was teeming with people of all shapes, sizes, and races. Most looked friendly and nearly all looked drunk. The place was a cacophony of mugs and plates clattering; lute strings being plucked and tuned and giggling women cooing and fawning. In one corner, a game of dice was being played. Everywhere they turned a different language was being spoken. The pipe smoke was thick. In the center of the room was a bar with stools all around. The barkeep stood inside, and women in low cut blouses and long aprons kept running up to the bar to get mugs of ale, then distributing them amongst the patrons.

A Centaur is standing conspicuously in the corner with his arms around two scantily clad young women. He was very fair for a centaur. He had long white blonde hair with green glass beads strung in it. Across his shoulders, was a black cloak with the hood thrown back, which contrasted sharply with his white horse body. He was very animated and seemed to be familiar with everyone in the bar. Nim'ohtar looks at the Centaur and the Centaur gives him a slight nod. Nim turns away from him, his brow furrowed. What is he doing here, now? What could this mean? Something must be wrong. Suddenly, Nim heard the sounds of unsteady hooves approaching him and felt a hand slap his back.

The Centaur leans onto the bar with his arm around the Elf paladin. He is laughing and gleeful and winking at the patrons. He slams his flagon of ale on the counter and says to Nim'ohtar, "Hey!"

Nim'ohtar mutters under his breath, "Greetings." He looks uncomfortable.

"You got some fine looking women in your party, Elf. You and your friends should come party with me in the stables later!" He leaned on Nim's head for support.

In his stiffest form Nim'ohtar replied, "I am not sure that would be appropriate."

"Gorthag come with you," said Gorthag, enthusiastically.

Nim gave Gorthag a look. "I would like to suggest to you that we remember Hausen and our mistakes there. That goes for everyone. We cannot allow things to take over our brains." He looked pointedly at Arantxe.

"Nim mean try not to make it with people," said Gorthag, tugging on his bottom lip.

"Something like that," said Nim'ohtar.

"Well, it was Chariot day," said Arantxe. "That's a different situation entirely." The Centaur appeared suddenly bored and walked rather unsteadily away. "Who was that?" she asked. "How do you know him?"

"I do not know the drunkard," said Nim'ohtar. He looked worried.

"Well, he seemed to know you," and she took a sip of tea.

They arranged for some rooms on the ground floor. The women slept in one room and Nim, Gorthag, Nephon and Korrigidor slept in another. Garrett purchased a private room and two additional rooms for is men.

As the transaction was going forward, Arantxe said to Garrett, "You are paying for our rooms. I mean, we have a contract."

"Oh, yeah. Don't get yourself worked up, there. Everything is paid for," said Garrett.

Meanwhile, Gorthag was still trying to convince Girt that they should be together. "Girt not sleep with Gorthag? Me thought Girt liked Gorthag," he looked crestfallen.

"I think your mind is creating histories that are not there," said Girt Kindly.

As the ladies were unpacking they heard a knock at the door. It was Nim'ohtar. He entered the room.

"I do know the Centaur. I was trying to cover for us and him. I will go meet him in the stables alone, later," he said. "I have informed the others."

Arantxe sighed. "I would like to go seek the temple of Karre."

"Well, I suggest that we only go out two at a time and we do this tomorrow, not tonight," said Nim'ohtar, firmly.

"What? Do you think you have control over me, now?" said Arantxe, haughtily.

"I would just expect you to have a little more control over yourself at this point," he said.

"Well, I'm going to go find the temple of my goddess. Perhaps, you should seek out your god as well so he can chastize you as you have just chastize me," she said, and he turned and walked out the door. She slammed it behind him. "What a shă bī!"

Korrigidor, Gorthag and Nephon go down to the bar for some drinks. The females in the group headed out together to seek the Temple of Karre.

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After asking a barmaid for directions to the Temple, Arantxe, Girt, Millicent and Artanis made their way across street back in the direction that they entered town. The temple was down the street that intersected with the main road at the Fortune Tellers Academy. As they walked they were suddenly accosted by a group of young children. They were dressed in filthy rags. They tugged on Artanis and Millicent's cloaks, "Are you real elves?" they asked.

"Who wants to know?" said Millicent, warily.

"They are just children," said Arantxe.

"My name's Davy," said a taller lad in the group. "What's your name?"

"Cute," said Girt. She was delighted to see children, but these younglings were very strange with their touching and pawing.

"Is that a real elf cloak?" the children asked.

Artanis stepped between the children and the other and leaned down.

"Hi!" said the youngest of the group. "My name is Cole. Where are you going?"

"We are taking a little walk," Artanis replied.

"What's it like where the elves live?" they asked.

"It's beautiful," said Artanis.

Arantxe started to analyze the scene. It was obvious that the children were casing them. They would have seen elves numerous times. She turned to Davy and drawing herself up to her full height said imperiously, "If we leave here with anything less than we had before, we will hunt you down and eat your fingers."

They ignored her. "Can I see your sword?" they asked Girt.

"No," said Artanis, quickly. "It is not a child's toy. Have you had your dinner? Isn't it time for bed? Where are your parents?"

"We don't have any parents," said Cole, as pathetically as he could manage. "We live at the orphanage. It's over that way." He waved his arms in three different directions.

"I think I can hear your guardian calling," said Artanis.

"Can we come with you?" ignoring Artanis ploy.

"No," said Millicent, now satisfied that she had these kids pegged from the very beginning.

"We're going to a temple for big people, to do, er, big people things and tell stories that are no
for the ears of children," said Girt.

Artanis drew a large silver piece from her bag. "Look," she said, and the children's eyes gleamed. "Here is a piece of silver. Why don't you go find some food for us?"

"Thanks!" the chimed brightly and they took off running up the main road.

"We should all check our pockets and bags," said Arantxe.

Artanis had less money than when she left the inn. This was not a surprise to any of them. "It happens in some towns, let us continue to the temple," said Arantxe. Artanis decided to give her money to Girt for safekeeping.

Burning of Markindale, Part 1, Act III

Midmorning, Sionel and Khiyra decided to enter Markindale. As they rode toward the city, they saw the crucified woman tied to the tree. She was still conscious, and as Khiyra noted, an attractive wench. They read the sign about thieves.

"What are you doing up there on that cross?" asked Khiyra.

"Yes. What has happened to you woman?" said Sionel.

"I got information," she said abruptly. "But I need to see some payment!"

"What?!" asked Khiyra. "We asked why you were up there, not to give us the floor plans for Finley's Palace."

"I'm not going to tell you anything, unless you let me down off this tree," said the woman.

"We just want to know what's befallen you," said Khiyra.

The woman ignored him. "Do you know what you are getting into here?"

Khiyra sighed. "Look," he said to Sionel. "She's crazy. Let's just go."

Sionel was not put off just yet. "Tell us what happened, so we can help you."

"Get me down, and I'll tell you what you need to know," she growled.

What an intolerable woman, thought Khiyra. Sionel got out her dagger and started cutting the woman down. He noticed Sionel was eyeing the woman lasciviously. Great. "So, look," Khiyra said. "We just saved your life. You owe us."

Sionel, knowing the sores of captivity, asked the woman again, "Why were you tied up there?"

"Well, me and my gang, we tried to pull off a heist. You've heard about the mayor, right?" she asked.

"No, we haven't heard anything," said Khiyra.

"Well, first give me some food. Then I'll tell you what you need to know," she said with a grin.

Sionel handed her some hard bread and cheese. "Ok, we've saved your life. We've fed you. Tell us what you know," Khiyra said impatiently. "Or I'll have my friend here, break you in half if you don't start talking."

"Yeah, speak woman," said Sionel.

"Me and my gang tried to get some gold. We got caught," she shrugged.

"But what about the mayor. You mentioned something about him," asked Khiyra.

"Well, yeah. I know where his gold is," she said.

"How much?" asked Khiyra.

"Enough to take care of all of us for a very long time," she said with a crooked smile.

"So what happened to the rest of your gang?" asked Khiyra.

"Filleted before these baby blue eyes," She batted her eyes sarcastically. "At least some of them. I'm assuming the rest met a similar fate."

Khiyra, ever suspicious and jaded, asked, "Why'd they spare you?"

"I don't know," she said. "to make an example of me, maybe. The mayor's men had some fun
trying out some now torture techniques, and then they stuck me out here."

"Are you a fighter," asked Sionel.

"You could say that," the woman replied. She stuck her thumbs in her belt.

"The question is Are you any use to us?" said Khiyra.

"I don't have weapons now. They took them," she said.

"Do you have skill with daggers?" asked Sionel.

"Yes, I do," the woman said smuggly. "I'm Farroe Marsh." And she extended her hand. "I was just passing through town with my gang, looking for action. Then we decided to stage a coup."

"How is stealing the Mayor's gold, a coup?" queried Sionel.

"Well, when you take the Mayor's gold, does he have any power left? When you slay his men, does he have any power left?" said Farroe. "Plan backfired though. Got me up on this tree and that's about it."

"Obviously, we can't be seen with you in town. We have some friends back down the road: a Centaur and some really weird broad with weird eyes," offered Khiyra.

"We will avenge you," said Sionel, fiercely.

"Was that pretentious snit of a guy with you people, too?" Farroe asked, suddenly. "Because he's in the town now, and he has no idea what he's up against."

Khiyra shook his head. "We don't know anything about that," he lied. "Why what's going on in the town?"

"Oh, you'll see," Farroe said, with the smug confidence of one with a secret. "I don't know if I trust you enough to tell you everything, yet. You all might try to sell me up the river or something when you get there."

"I give you my dagger as a token given in good faith," said Sionel.

"When you see the others, show them Sionel's dagger and tell them your story," said Khiyra.

"And who are these 'others' again?" asked Farroe.

"They're strange," said Khiyra. "You'll know them when you see them."

"Yeah, the Centaur is balding on top with a prodigious ale-belly," said Sionel. "Any other information you can give us before we enter the town?"

"I need guarantees before I give you any more information," said Farroe.

Sionel was aghast. "Hey, we've shown you good will here. We're letting you join our party. What else could you possibly want?"

"We'll talk when you get back," she said stubbornly.

"Let's move on. We'll deal with her later," said Khiyra, and he and Sionel headed towards town.

Farroe smiled as she watched them go. She flipped the blade, caught it smartly by the haft, and shoved it in her belt. Then she started down the road in search of a Centaur and a weird woman.

Recap: Serenity Part 1, Act I (abridged)

The caravan was a day and a half's journey west of the Drest Forest. Artanis and Nim'ohtar were thinking of the Goblins they left behind and their troubles. The dark tidings from the Goblins were disturbing. What kind of power could destroy an elemental? What kind of evil?

They were heading for Serenity, a small frontier town that represented their last taste of the South before pushing forward into the desert. As they traveled West they saw fewer trees and more tall grasses and sage. The air was drier and the sky larger.

Luken, his legs dangling out the back of a wagon and moving with the rhythm of the road, looked off to the Northeast and watched the dark pine-covered hills of the Drest mountains growing smaller. He was tired and more than a little anxious. His heart was constantly beating in his head. This was not the kind of life a cleric of Erring should lead. He really wanted a butcher's sandwich and to live in the present without worrying about tomorrow or yesterday. But wait. The hills of Drest Forest reminded him of something. He looked to the South. Sure enough, there was a line of trees on the horizon. He poked his head quickly out the back of the wagon and shouted for Garrett.

Garrett, who was riding at the front of the caravan, quickly trotted back to Luken. He pulled his horse around so he could ride along side the wagon. "What's up, little holy guy?" he asked.

"Is that a river to the South of us?" asked Luken.

"Yep. That's the North Rane River," said Garrett. "River runs right through Serenity."

"Isn't Johnstown on the North Rane?" he asked.

"Well, as a matter of fact, Johnstown is just south of this very spot," said Garrett with surprise.

"Excellent!" squeaked the halfling. "Please halt the caravan for just a moment. I will gather my things." He darted back into the wagon. You could hear him humming.

By the time he reemerged, everyone was gathered outside the wagon. Some were curious about the reason for the stop and the cleric's excitement. Others were just glad for a smoke break.

"My friends," said Luken. "I must leave you. I have a cousin in Johnstown that I wish to visit and stay with for a while. I wish you success on your journey. May Erring help you find the present."

And with that he jumped off the wagon with his backpack and walking stick and headed south, his cloak flapping in the breeze. His stride exuded optimism and relief. Fortunately the grass was not too tall here, or he would have been quickly lost.

The others watched him go. It was true that he was not needed, but he was a very kind halfling that had saved a life or two. Gorthag was sad to see him go. "Luken just leave us like that ..." he sniffed, and he covered his face with his hands.

Garrett said, "Well, clerics are useful, but we have two left. I think we should just let the little guy go see his family."

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The party traveled on for three more hours and found themselves in very tall grasses. They camped off to the north of the road, their wagons fairly well obscured by the vegetation.

Nim'ohtar took first watch. Some chose to stay up with him. Garrett began to speak about Serenity, punctuating his sentences with pipe smoke.

"Yeah, Serenity has a rough-and-tumble reputation. And you can definitely see some rough and some tumble, but not too many people dare to draw mortal blood here. And if killing is done, it's done real quiet-like. Just be sure not to let anyone walk around alone. Our sole purpose in Serenity will be to resupply, rest for a day or two and get back on the road," he explained.

"Do they have Orcs in Serenity?" asked Girt.

"Yeah! Serenity is, what ya call it, kind of cosmopolitan that way," said Garrett. "Everyone's real tolerant of others."

Nim'ohtar and Girt looked at each other. Garrett had been wrong about towns before ...

"Well, I have never been to Serenity, but from what I have heard it's essentially a mob town run by two rival families," said Arantxe. "They control all the drug trade and gambling in the area. According to Companions in Courte, Serenity is still the South, and Companions have never reported having a hard time there." A few of Garrett's drivers chuckled in their sleep rolls. Arantxe rolled her eyes.

"There is no Companion's Guild there," she continued. "At least, I do not remember hearing of one."

"Well, there's a Temple of Karre, 'Bout the only religious building in the town," said Garrett. "Nephon, you're from the South. Know much about Serenity?"

"Nah, not too much, man," Nephon replied. "I've heard it's a good place for a tent revival. Serenity is a godless town."

"It is! and no offense intended, Nephon, I like it that way," said Garrett and he blew out a big puff of smoke through his nose to emphasize his point.

"They have liquor there?" asked Gorthag. "OO, they have buttermilk?"

"Yes, they have milk and booze," said Garrett. "And plenty of it."

At dawn, Arantxe was awakened by the sound of hoofbeats. She stood and could see some riders passing by on the road heading to the West quickly.

"Wake up!" she said in a low voice to the others.

Girt and Nim'ohtar watched the two riders grow smaller as they headed west. They were dressed in black and gray. The riders had not noticed their presence.

"Gorthag use special ranger power to track riders," said Gorthag, and he started to head towards the road. Nim reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No, my friend. There is no need for your skill," Nim'ohtar explained. "The riders are heading down the road towards Serenity. We saw two of them with our own eyes."

"Oh, yeah," said Gorthag. He scratched his head.

"They could have been from Hausen," said Nim to Girt and Nephon. "Possibly looking for their horn."

"Maybe we go kill them," said Gorthag. He had a sore opinion of Hauseners at this point.

"No," said Arantxe. "We should not kill unless there is need." The thought of killing again made her sick. "You are not a killer, Gorthag."

"You know, Gorthag," said Girt. "He likes to smash." She rolled her Orc eyes. Gorthag nodded enthusiastically.

A debate then arose about how to proceed. Girt suggested that she and Gorthag stay outside of town until the others were sure that it was safe. Garrett insisted the Orcs would be safe.

"We can't bring pretty lady into town. People stare at her," said Gorthag.

"Yes, but she will not be the only izenaren luxuzho in Serenity," said Girt.

"We need scouting party!" said Gorthag. He was desparately wanting Girt's approval.

"Look," said Garrett. "We're going to head into town, just like normal, non-suspicious trading folk. We're going to stick together and go to the Greystone Inn, just about the friendliest place you can imagine."

"What is the law in Serenity?" asked Nim.

"They got a garrison from Courte up there. Run by a real honest guy named Goffton," said Garrett. "He's fair. Tries to keep as much of the peace as possible between the two families, but not so much that it interferes with the smooth run of trade in town. He's not the type to disturb the peace with heavy handed law enforcement." This was not comforting to the party, after Hausen. The Mayor was also a "nice guy" according to Garrett. Nim'ohtar was beginning to believe as long as Garrett was high, even a Jatyx priest was "a nice guy."

Garrett continued. "No, Girt. No need to be concerned about your Orc lineage in Serenity. They have a huge market there with all walks of life. No one is going to bat an eye at ya."

Artanis emerged from a wagon. "I suggest we go into town," she said.

Arantxe then called from the wagon, "This place is nothing like Markindale or Hausen. Let's just go. I am desperate for a hot bath... and perhaps a communal devotional."

Girt nodded sagely and looked at Gorthag, "Just as I said, many more izenaren luxuzho." Gorthag looked confused, as usual. The caravan prepared to depart.

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When they were nearing Serenity, Arantxe leaned out of the back of her wagon and then asked, "So, what is the plan for Serenity?"

Gorthag lumbered up to her.

"Gorthag scouting. Gorthag also thirsty. We close to town now," he said. Girt also approached Arantxe. "I propose we get plenty of water and rations for our desert journey," she said.

"Does Girt want to get drunk with Gorthag?" asked Gorthag, hopefully.

"No," said Girt in a way that broached no argument.

"No one should be getting drunk," Artanis urged. "We must keep our wits about us."

"I could use several glasses of wine," said Arantxe.

The party drove into town. As the caravan entered, they saw a large cemetery to the north of the road. Overlooking the cemetery, sat a small garrison on a low hill. The graves in the cemetery were both old and new, and in the center was a large stone masoleum. As they went further into town Nephon began to laugh. On the south side of the road was a long one-story building with a sign painted on it that proudly proclaimed itself as the World Famous Fortune Tellers Academy of Saros. This place was a huge joke amongst wizards and clerics.

"I had no idea THAT place was here," said Nephon.

Serenity was far more picturesque than the travelers had expected. The town certainly had a frontier feel, but the streets were lined with trees and flowers. There were people milling about everywhere. Lamps were being lit to ward off the encroaching night. The townspeople did not glance twice at the caravan. Garrett steered them straight towards the Greystone Inn. Arantxe glanced out the wagon and sighed to herself, "It's good to be back in the South."

Burning of Markindale, Part 1, Act II

Richard and Pearson went ahead of the others into Markindale, their sleek black horses glistening in the morning sun. As they approached the wall of the town, they beheld a figure crucified on a large tree. As they approached, they could see it was a woman with long blonde hair. Below her was a sign that read, "Thieves have no place in Markindale."

The woman was still conscious. Her wrists were bleeding from the ropes that bound her to the tree. Richard approached and asked, "Madam, your crime?"

"Who in Saros' Bowels are you?" She said angrily lifting her head and glaring at him.

"Richard Evans Saddler, the Third," he drawled. "Your attitude does not endear me to you, madam. I haven't the time for this and must press on."

"Wait! Aren't you going to let me down from here?" she begged him. "Are you not chivalrous? A fine man like you?

"No, no, no," he chuckled. "Come, Pearson. They'll be others along. I don't have time for chivalry." He put his heels to his horse and they galloped away, leaving her behind.

As Richard and Pearson rode on, they began to notice livestock roaming free. Cows were standing in the road and chickens ran to avoid the hooves of their horses. Just before the town gate a huge dead sow laid in the middle of the road. The sow's head had been crushed with a blunt object. They unflinchingly rode on towards the gate. The gate was standing wide open. There were no guards on duty. Trash littered the streets. The windows of many of the houses were boarded up. A lone man was walking furtively up the street. He caught sight of Richard and Pearson and hurried into a house, slamming the door shut behind him. Richard was mystified. This was not what he was expecting from Markindale. The way Khiyra and Zagros had talked, he should be walking through a typically friendly agrarian town complete with people trying to sell you things and strange housewives asking you to tea.

They turned down a side street. Again, they saw someone duck quickly inside and close the door. There was some riotous shouting off in the distance towards the market. Carefully, Richard continued to head northeast towards the the Town Hall and Mayoral Residence.

As they were riding along, they were treated with very odd sites: A butter churn upended in the street. A long line of spinning wheels, one after another and some dead chickens. Richard leered at the chickens. Maybe I'll create my own oddity. He muttered under his breath a hand outstretched over them. They sputtered, cackled and came to stuttering life, their eyes white and glassy with death. Some of them had broken wings or entrails spilling out of their bellies and trailing along the ground. With a sweep of his arm the chickens stumbled and weaved out in the the road in front of his horse, leading their way through Markindale. Occasionally, they would peck at the ground. Feral cats hissed at them and ran tearing through the alleys as fast and far from them as possible.

Richard looked down a trash strewn street that led directly to the market. He could see a man in the distance sitting in the market, holding his head in his hands. What has happened here? Richard wondered. Remembering that healing potions and herbs were needed he headed away from the man and towards the herbalist.

Richard and Peason rode up to the herbalist shop and tethered their horses to posts outside. Some of the chickens bumped into the steps leading indoors. The others wandered around and tried to peck at the horses ankles. Inside was a neatly kept shop with many small bottles of potions, jars of herbs and even some leeches. Behind the counter was a tall elderly woman, still broad of shoulder and stern of countenance. Her steel gray hair was tied into a severe bun in the back and on her head a pointy black hat. She smells like patchouli. Richard laughed to himself. Her appearance amused him, greatly.

"What is it that you seek, young gentleman?" she asked. She had a strong deep voice.

"I would like to purchase some herbal healing potions," said Richard, "and perhaps some leeches."

She peered at him and turned to the shelves and began selecting some bottles. She was muttering to herself. Something about travelers.

"So, I am curious, good woman. What happened in this village?" Richard ventured to ask.

She spun around quickly. Instead of looking at him she looked off into the corner right behind him and said, "Everyone want to burn you. Everyone wants to burn you at the stake!"

Richard replied, "But I've done nothing."

"You think you're so innocent! You probably want to burn me at the stake. They all do!" she looked wild-eyed and frightened. She reached suddenly behind the counter, raised a large blue glass bottle from a hidden shelf beneath and smashed it to the floor.

"Pearson!" Richard cried out, before the world went black. Richard slumped to the ground.

Pearson moved quickly to stand between his master and the old woman.

"And what are you?" she said looking up at him.

"What you talking about? What have you done?!" Pearson grabbed her by the neck and pulled her up off her feet.

"AAAAHHHHH!" she screamed.

"Awaken him, NOW!" roared Pearson shaking her.

"You're going to burn me at the stake! You're going to burn me at the stake!" she screamed deliriously.

"I'm not going to burn you at the stake," said Pearson. "But I might pull your arms off."

"What are you?! You're not even human! You're going to burn me at the stake!" she screamed.

Pearson slapped her. Then he slapped her again. She passed out.

Convergence, Part II, Act 1

He wandered across the grassland. There were brightly colored butterflies flitting ahead. He ran and tried to catch them with his immature Orc hands. As he came up over the hill, the sea suddenly rolled out ahead of him. His father came thundering up the hill after him with a skin of water. "You drink son. Running makes thirst," and his father held the skin gently to his son's mouth, the crisp cold water running down his chin...

"OW!" said Gorthag. He just received a sharp jab in his shin. He was lying with his cheek against cold stone, drool pooling under his mouth. "Ow!" he said again, as he received another kick. He turned to look up into two of the most lovely, glowering half-Orc eyes he had ever seen. Girt was annoyed and Gorthag was smitten.

"How did we end up here?" she demanded.

"Huh?" he said.

She sighed and her face softened a bit. "Look around, friend."

Gorthag looked. They were chained to the wall in a cell with only one narrow window that let in a shaft of morning light.

"Oh," he said. "This no good." He had totally forgotten waking earlier that morning.

"Indeed, my friend. I propose we stay calm. I'm sure our friends will rescue us," said Girt confidently.

"Gorthag have friends, now," said Gorthag happily. He reflected over the past couple days: meeting Nim'ohtar, Luken and Artanis at the Purple Moon, killing things... he smiled.

"Why you talk so nice?" he asked Girt. He had never heard an Orc speak so nicely.

"I was raised to tell stories and to fight for a great God," said Girt. Which is all she had to offer Feix. Girt sighed. I will never be part of Uztarri. Never really complete.

Gorthag stared at her small upturned pug nose. It was a beautiful nose. If this was captivity, he didn't mind it so much.

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At the Red Chariot, the rest of the party puzzled about the half-Orcs' disappearance. Suddenly, the door of the inn banged open and Garrett stormed inside.

"Gods Dammit! Piss on Andro and his stupid holiday!" Several people looked up from their breakfast and a few started to rise from their chairs angrily.

The bartender waved a hand. "Calm down everyone. Garrett's obviously not toked on his pipe as of yet." A few chuckles were heard from the drinkers and diners.

Garrett moved over to the party. "The man at the resupply post is missing. Been missing for a few days. The Mayor sent word to Mite. We are to wait until the supplies come in, but I don't know, man. I got a bad feeling."

"That usually is a sign from the Gods," said Korrigidor.

"I have some more bad news," said Nim'ohtar. "The Orcs are missing."

"Didn't I tell them!" said Garret. "I told them to stay inside in their rooms. Gregg!" he yelled across the room to a bard nursing a hangover cocktail and a plate of eggs. "Do you 'member them Orcs from last night?"

"Uh, yah," he said eloquently.

"Well? Where did they get to?" The bard shrugged and went back to poking at his eggs.

"They went outside to watch the burning, Garrett. That's the last I saw of 'em," said the bartender.

"And good riddance,too," someone in the corner muttered under their breath.

Nim'ohtar strode over to the man in the corner and lifted him by the shirt collar half out of his chair. "What do you know?" he demanded. The man quailed under Nim'ohtar's foreign stare. Nim'ohtar then felt a light touch on hihs sleeve and turned to see Artanis pointing out the still open front door.

"I think maybe they might know," she said. Through the door and across the town square a group was forming outside of town hall. They looked angry.

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The party went to investigate the growing mob outside Town Hall. There were about thirty men with pitchforks and swords talking to a man who appeared to be the Sheriff, a robed judge and five deputies. The men smelled of alcohol and some of them carried bottles of amber liquid.

A scruffy man at the front of the mob with long unkempt mustaches said, "Let us through, Lin. Those monsters are going to hang today."

The judge stepped forward and in a high-pitched voice cried, "I order you men to disperse. This is an unlawful assembly, and I'll have you arrested this minute, if--"

"Roy, those orcs are going to get a fair trial," interrupted the Sheriff. "Now you boys go on home and wait for the law to have its say."

"You hear that? You hear THAT?!" yelled Roy indignantly. "He's gonna give them the law. What kind of justice is that? Those monsters is killing our kind, and Lin's gonna give them a fancy trial. Are we just gonna go home?"

"No! Jatyx's Balls, No!"

Roy stepped up closer to the Sheriff. "Lin, we ain't going home till we get some real justice. Now you send out them Orcs so we don't have to come in."

"You aren't coming in, and the Orcs aren't coming out," said Lin. "The Mayor and the guard will be along any minute and the Mayor won't stand for this."

Roy began to laugh. " The mayor isn't coming along anytime soon, Lin. He's in what they call "a tight spot." Several men around him snickered.

Nim'ohtar scowled and was about to approach the mob, but Nephon laid his hand on his arm. "Wait. This is a job for a man of the cloth. Stay here and chill," he said.

Nephon walked up to Roy arms spread wide. "Please tell me what has transpired here."

"Well, Andro-Son, this here Sheriff is keeping us from protecting our families," said Roy. "There's Orcs in there that can harm me and mine."

"I understand, man," said Nephon. "Your trying to protect your family. Your family is safe as long as the orcs are in the Sheriff's custody. Besides, this is a season for forgetting. We burned the chariot last night. We've come full circle."

Roy seemed abashed in the presence of a man of the cloth. "Son of Andro, I would like the honor of inviting you to my home so I can hear your good words. Times have been hard."

"Certainly," Nephon replied. "Let me confer with my companions before I join you." He turned and walked back to the rest of the adventurers. The men around Roy started to look confused and less organized.

Nephon said, "Look, I'll go back to his place and keep him distracted while you all try to find a way to get Girt and Gorthag out of there. Besides, I think I may be able to do some good here."

"Can I come with you?" Millicent asked.

Nephon almost said no. She was a half-Elf afterall and these Hausen dwellers do not seem friendly to foreigners. But Millicent looked more human and she was wearing a hat today.

"Ok," he said. "Keep your hat on and keep the magics to a minimum. Roy! I'm bringing my friend, here."

Roy escorted Nephon and Millicent to his home. Some of the men followed them, the rest wandered home.

Nim'ohtar and Arantxe spoke to Lin. "What will happen to the Orcs?" asked Nim'ohtar.

"Well, they'll get a trial here tomorrow morning," said Lin, taking off his hat and scratching his head.

"What did they do?" asked Arantxe.

"Huh," Lin uttered with disgust. "Far as I can tell, miss, they were just being orcs. That's enough in this town."

"Isn't there something you can do? These are friends of ours," she said.

"Friends? Centaur dung! They're my Gods damned employees!" Garret burst out. He was furiously puffing on his pipe. "I need that kind of muscle, trip I'm havin'."

"My father could help," said Korrigidor. Everybody turned to look at him quizzically. "He has a lot of money, ya know, being a demigod and all."

"Look," Lin said, gazing uncomfortably at Korrigidor, who was now talking to himself. "I don't have problem with Orcs. They ain't never hurt me or mine. But there are folks in the town that are angry. Mayor's been taxing the hell out of the people. He's a Southerner you know. Word is he's probably sending alot of that money to the South to fight Centaurs and Orcs. People here, well. They've lost their sense of self-esteem you see. We had a bad crop this year, the mill broke down and the livestock had a strange illness that caused them to waste away. People are hungry and desperate and they need something to be angry at. Orcs'll do.

"That's not fair," said Arantxe. "Gorthag would cry if you looked at him cross-eyed."

"What if you just helped us out a little," said Garrett. "We could go on up to the north end of town and create, ya know, a distraction. You can send most of your guard out to investigate. Leave a couple of guys here. We can overpower them -- Not hurt them, mind you and retrieve the Orcs. No one would blame you."

Lin laughed. "Well, everyone WOULD blame me, Garrett. But I hate to see innocents hang. We'll see. When would you be creating this distraction?"

Arrangements were made. Garrett and his men would start a small brush fire on the north end of town. Garrett would then drive to meet the party just outside the town. "Then we'll get the Saros' Bowels out of here," said Garrett.

The Burning of Markindale, Part I

The party awakened at dawn. They had camped about two miles outside Markindale on a low hill that overlooked the town and surrounding area.

Sionel sat up and brushed the dew off her clothing. “I think we should go to the Purple Moon. There is something underneath the inn, a dungeon or secret tunnel or something. That’s where Raul takes his addicts. I want to know what’s down there.”

"Why?" said Khiyra, lazily. "What difference does that make?"

"I know that caravan was connected to the drug trade and Raul deals Xain," she said. Ever since her conversation with the mad woman, Sionel had been trying to justify her actions. They were drug traders. They deserved to die. And that little halfling would have turned us in anyways...

"It sounds as though you may be known in Markindale." The voice came from the other side of the large tree they were camped under. Richard came out from behind the tree casting his thin shadow on Sionel's face.

"Yeah, word has probably gotten around by now," Khiyra said. "We're wanted." He shrugged. What else is new?

"I guess I won't be selling any crappy curios in the Markindale market anytime soon," said Zagros, who did not sound disappointed in the least. The past several days had been strangely more to his liking than life as a traveling peddlar.

Richard squatted down by Khiyra as he worked on a breakfast fire. "It would seem that someone with a more refined appearance should enter Markindale first."

Khiyra considered this. "What's your plan?"

"My manservant and I ride ahead and seek audience with the mayor as a traveler from a family of good reputation. I would be proposing to do business with him, perhaps. This would allow me access to the town hall and the Mayor's living quarters, since he would likely insist on putting me up himself, rather than have me stay in some filthy small town lodging. You could follow a while later and investigate this inn you speak of, though it sounds like a risky proposition," Richard finished.

Khiyra was uncertain about how much he could trust this man. He was likely to make off with the gold and the cyclops eye and leave himself and the others to hang. He said, "Tell the mayor that you would like to build a central sewage system for the town of Markindale." Zagros started laughing. Khiyra smirked. "It's no joke. That will give us access to everything in the city," he explained.

Richard gave Khiyra a look of disgust. "A person of my stature does not dig holes and trenches. I rather envisioned discussing the trade of rare magical artifacts with him."

"But do you have enough coin to convince the Mayor that you are a serious collector?" asked Sionel. Khiyra thought, Yes. How much is this man carrying with him?

Richard scoffed and then laughed. "I have enough. YOU do not need to know how much."

"Are you going to use your manservant on this mission? His skills could be quite useful to me in Markindale," said Sionel.

"Pearson comes with me," he said bluntly. "This will successfully get me into the Mayor's residence and Town Hall. If you place yourselves in the town after my arrival and stay low, I can send Pearson with messages and we can formulate a plan."

"Sounds good. Khiyra, you want to come with me to the Purple Moon?" asked Sionel.

"Yeah. I need to find this Ramshaw guy. He owes me money," said Khiyra.

The group set off towards town and continued discussing their plans. It was an very quiet morning in the borderland countryside.

"Ahhh, the day after Chariot Day. When Saros nurses her hangover..." said Zagros.

"So what do you all want out of this?" asked Khiyra. "Obviously, this cyclops' eye interests you very much," he said to Richard. "What do you want?" he asked the mad woman.

"Nothing. I follow him," she said twirling her fingers in Richard's stringy hair. He batted her away, scowling. She laughed. "Actually," said Richard, straightening his cowl, "I want to raise an undead army and destroy the world."

"Works for me," said Sionel.

"It is very important that I am not associated with the carnage of yesterday," urged Richard. "So no discussion of it from this moment forward."

"I need leeches," said Khiyra, ignoring Richard. "I need some blood leeched out of me, so I can be healed."

"I will visit the herbalist and see what potions I can obtain for healing," Richard offered.

"It's gotta be leeches," said Khiyra. "I can go myself."

As the party walked the mad woman walked in circles around the group. She seemed lost and uninterested in the conversation.

"What about you Centaur? Are you going into Markindale?" asked Khiyra.

"I'm Equus non-grata in Markindale, at the moment. I'll wait here with the crazy lady," Zagros replied.

Eldro's Rage

High on the tall throne atop fair Udrost,
The largest of the eleven Caelis,
The celestial chain that binds Saros,
Eldro exalted sat, admiring
From afar his grand project of empire
And Finley, his instrument of revenge
Who never doubted the Law of Pure Land.

But Eldro, stirred by the thought of Karre,
For whom he, insatiate to possess
The pleasing graces of the village girl
Now a desperate goddess of pleasure,
Would remake perforce the world of Saros,
Did discern the outline of treachery,
A plot authored against him by his foes.

The Lord of Udrost scrutinized the east
And, finding nothing amiss in his realm,
Did turn his gaze to the unconquered land
West and south, to the corrupt and libertine,
And found certain evidence of Andro,
The vagrant immortal whom all confused
With the just and benevolent Eldro.

Ignonimy and shame follow this god!
How can sweet Karre return to my fold
And enjoy the founding of my Pure Land,
When ever I suffer depredation
By others' confusion of his low ways
With my honest and righteous dominion?
Eldro roared with a rage that shook the world.

This new threat, he ruled, is not casual.
This business so close to my estate,
An infernal necromancy obscure,
Must be the dark design of low Andro.
Though the opportunity be not ripe,
As Finley makes war against the cold north,
I will ruin Andro's profitless art.

More Rules Updates

I made more revisions to Chapter 8 (Magic). I also included the rules for Amazons, Necromancers, and Sorcerers. I changed some of the artwork to make the manual a little less risque (I'd like to see the game used by kids too).

Rules Updates

Check out the latest version of the Players Manual (in particular, chapter 8). I am beginning to rework the magic system.

More Maps

Check out Aaron's work: The City of Courte, Central Courte, and South Courte.