CHAPTER FOURTEEN:  The AVATAR

While the adventurers were in Gehenna, Che was not exactly at loose ends while he awaited their return.

Che
Emerith looked around for Quietus, as per her father's request. He couldn't be found. Nor were Eddie or Charity about. This news was of consternation to the dwarf.

"Well me's dear, it a looks like me's got a half-built casino, a cellar in shambles, no patrons, and a mighty dusty Dravin coat rack. Gives me a chance to do the fixin' up 'round 'ere on me own." With a bounce in his step Che arose from his chair and huddled his daughters together and chanted out various details for them to attend to.

The orcs, led by Slash stood silently to the side, awaiting direction from their boss. Slash was rather eager to please Che at this point, knowing that the destruction of the stills was on his conscience.

"Slash, goes into town and sees if there be any one who would a like to 'elp 'ith the renovatin'. Reminds 'em that Che pays good coin fer good work."

"Yes, Che, I will run with all haste." 

Che stood in the middle of the tavern contemplating his next move. "Hmmmmm, me's could do 'ith a nice sandwich right now." The dwarf waddled into the kitchen.

After finishing a nice triple decker bacon and tomato sandwich, Che headed down to the cellar to inventory the damage down there. "Ah, fer the love of............ 'tis is a mess!" exclaimed the dwarf. The orcs remained silently at the cellar entrance awaiting any word from their boss for their assistance.

Che quickly but methodically began separating the destroyed metal drums from salvageable materials. He then checked his storage trunks, but was soon convinced that no harm had come to them. The stench of tequila was still quite strong, something that Che seemed to enjoy while he toiled away. Meanwhile Emerith and the other daughters were busy cleaning the tavern.

The daughters began cleaning the guest rooms, meticulously looking for dust balls. Curtains were taken down and ruffled outside the windows to relieve collected dust. Farmers that were walking by the tavern noticed billows of what seemed like smoke coming from the windows of the bar. With fear that the tavern was on fire, they moved in closer to see if they could help, but upon closer inspection they realized that their help was not needed in this case. They continued on their way.

Cheron was in charge of cleaning Dravin. She gently picked up the stoic wizard and placed him slowly upon the front stoop of the tavern. She then stared into the wide-open eyes of Dravin, hoping for some response from him. None presented itself. She raised her hand to his forehead and began tapping upon his head. The hollow knocking gave Cheron the inclination to only shrug her shoulders. She next picked up a large broom and began beating Dravin on the backside, which caused much dust to fly. She continued to swing wildly upon the young wizard. "Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!" seemed to grunt from Dravin with every contact from the broom. Cheron stopped and looked into the eyes of the wizard again. This time she noticed his eyes narrowed as if he was glaring at her. She quickly dismissed this as being caused by the broom blows loosening his eyelids. She continued her task. "Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!"

Lucy and Sarah were in the casino part of the tavern, rearranging chair and picking up lost gratuities from under the gambling tables. "You know Sarah, Papa is taking this all very well."

"Yes I have noticed that since his return he hasn't said much, and is just going with the flow of the situation. Rather a nice change from what I would normally expect."

"That's true, Sarah, but it is funny to watch father when he gets mad, that redness in his face, the veins in his forehead, and then he'll fall down or something. Tee hee!"

"Oh Lucy, that's awful . . . . But it’s true, father is fun to be around at times."

Hack and Muriel popped into the tavern for a visit. Everyone around stopped what they were doing and greeted the newlyweds. Che appeared from the cellar to join the mini-celebration. Muriel was surrounded by her sisters with all asking question to Muriel. Much giggling was the response after all of the answers. Hack was given a hearty welcome by his brother Slash and the other orcs. But this was briefly interrupted when Che put his arm around his son-in-law and drew him to one side.

"Me's glad yers came fer a visit, Hack. How's the farm life fer ye?"

"Well, ah . . . Dad," Hack responded with a minor hesitation in his voice, as he wasn't quite comfortable in addressing Che differently yet. "The time isn't right yet for sowing of seeds, but I have managed to construct a granary for my crops in the coming harvest."

"Ah, a goods man ye be, er, orc that is. Yers knows Hack, if yer got some free time, me's could use yer carpentry skills 'round 'ere fer me renovations. Woulds yers be interested in 'elpin' out. Of course me's would pay well fer yer services."

Hack thought briefly upon the offer and then responded, "Why yes Che, the extra money would come in very handy for Muriel and me. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, me's don't quite know. But me's always gots an ear fer suggestions."

Hack looked intently at the interior of the tavern, for the first time viewing it with his creations in mind. Something that again, he was a little uncomfortable doing. "Teak! Yes, teak, would do quite well in here."

Che bobbed his head back quickly, widening his eyes in wonderment. "Teech! Whats in the name o' dwarven furnaces is that?"

Hack was surprised that Che was inquiring to him about his expertise. A moment of confidence entered the orc. "Teak is a fine hardwood. Very hard, yellowish brown in color. Very elegant stuff."

"Hmmmmmm, Teesh, eh?"

"No, teak."

"What?' asked Che abruptly.

"Teak. Teak"

"What's yer squeakin' about?"

"Teak, the hardwood I just told you about."

"Tack, eh?"

"No, teak. Teak! Teak!" Hack bellowed trying to get his point across to the dwarf.

"Now yer startin' to talk like a 'amster. You know those vermin spawn. Those lice-ridden pieces o' flesh and filth that run 'round ‘ere, and a cause havoc everywhere they go." Che's voice rose in both tone and pitch as he began winding himself in to a frenzy as he talked about hamsters. "Those good fer nothin' little . . . oh they make ye just want to picks them up by the throats and . . . " Che continued his oration with his arms animated in front of him as if he was strangling something very small. “and just squeeze untils yers hear 'em squawk......'teeeeeek, teeeeeek, teeeeeek'!!!"

Che suddenly stopped and was puffing. Hack was silent as he just stared at the dwarf, scared to say anything at this moment. Che regained himself and asked, "So what suggestions do yers got fer the bar?"

Hack hesitated, but then confidently replied, "I think that we should go with oakwood."

Wicked Witch of the West
Faint singing can be heard from outside the tavern..

"I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of.."

A few seconds later a dirty little girl wanders into the tavern. She cannot be older than fourteen, with an angelic face and big blue eyes. Her curly hair is caked with dirt and her dress has seen better days but she is smiling as if she's never been happier.

"Hello? Anybody in here? My name is Cilla and I was wondering if you had maybe a small piece of bread for me.  I haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

Che
Che looks briefly at the little urchin that has wandered in and moves to address her.

"Hellos there, Silly. Bread ye want. Well me's orcs canna whip ups some fresh baked fer yer tummy."

Hack immediately tugged on Che's arm. "Dad, I think her name is Cilla."

"That's whats me said, Silly. Now don'ts be botherin' me, boy. Go gits the lumber yer gonna need." Hack rushed away to make some measurements. The orcs in the kitchen were already pounding some dough to prepare for Cilla.

Che slowly aligned his arm in the direction of one of the tables. "There Silly, have yerself a seat. Where's ye be from? Haven't seen the like o' you in town."

Wicked Witch of the West
Cilla looks around amazed at the surrounding. She has never seen an orc, and blurts out, "Why does that man have a green face? Has he eaten something bad? My mother told me that whenever you eat something bad you turn green and that I shouldn't take anything from strangers."

(Cilla grew up a remote village and only knows the things the village priest told of during mass.)

She looks at the dwarf and sees he is pointing to one of the tables..

"Thank you good sir but my name is Cilla. C-I-L-L-A. I come from the village of Northshire and a tradesman going through our village was willing to bring me all the way here.  I want to become a wizard and so I'm looking for one now.. Do you happen to know any? My momma told me wizards are silly and dangerous but I think they are just wonderful and I want to be one. She will be really mad if she finds out I ran away . . . "

Che
 Cheron returns inside with a newly de-dusted Dravin coatrack. She plopped the 'furniture' down with a thud! "Ugh!" Cheron looks at the Dravin coatrack again. "Hmmmm, this thing sure is making strange noises. Maybe the mice have gotten inside. I'll check that later." Cheron then attended to other duties.

Che looked at the Cilla with a broad smile upon his face as he listened to her recants. "Ah, a wizard ye want to aspire to be, eh? Well, ye sees that coatrack there." Che pointed to the rigid Dravin. "That's a wizard. Came in 'ere months ago. Good sort o' chap, but was so entranced in 'is scroll that he's a-remained like that fer the longest o' time. Ah, here's yer bread."

The orcs from the kitchen returned to the table of Che and Cilla with a freshly baked loaf of bread. They placed the loaf in front of the little girl. Alongside they also included a knife and a small platter of butter. Slash gently wrapped a napkin around the neck of the girl. Che continued to smile as his minions bestowed the best service they knew upon Cilla.

"Ah, yes little one, eat up. And that man like these 'ere are orcs. Their skin always be that color, but it does turn greener when they let Gash do the cookin'." The huddle of orcs laughed at Che’s little quip at Gash and then all returned to the kitchen. Gash wasn't that amused, though as the other orcs continued to poke barbs at him.

Cilla eagerly attacked the bread and butter. She made frequent use of the napkin not so much as to clean herself, but to portray manners. Che seemed growing attached to Cilla and continued to talk, "Well, there are mages o' the majiks that do frequent me bar, but many o' 'em are outs adventurin' at this time. Good bread 'tis it not?"

Wicked Witch of the West
"Yikes!!" shouts Cilla at the sight of Dravin.

By now, the orcs have already put a loaf of bread in front of her which she starts to devour immediately.

"Mmmmmmmm this is really good, I forgot to bring food with me when I left home. Could I have some water please?"  She took another bite, and then continued.  "So there are no wizards around here . . . that is very disappointing. I'm afraid to go home now; father would beat me with a stick for running away. I was supposed to help with the harvest, and now it's too late."

The realization that she's got nowhere to go starts to sink in and her tears well up in her eyes. "I don't know what to do now. I can't go home, there are no wizards here except a frozen one, and I don't know any trades."

She cannot hold back the tears anymore and they start rolling down her cheek like a waterfall.

Che
Che was taken aback by the crying of Cilla. The dwarf was always very uncomfortable around sadness, for it brought back too many memories. "Stop that!" he shouted, but the tears continued with greater flow. "Hmph!" Che arose from his chair, and with his full battle armor still upon his person, he attempted to comfort the little girl with his arm. "Water! Someone bring water."

Emerith noticed her father's uncomfortable attempt at calming Cilla as he fumbling a gentle hug while clanging his armor. She placed her hand on Che's shoulder and drew him away. She then knelt beside Cilla, and spoke, "There, there little one. A young lady such as yourself should not cry. No, not when you are surrounded by the good people around here." Cilla began to rein in her tears, but continued the constant sniffling. "You know Cilla, my father has a magical sword. It is the artifact that this here tavern is named after. If you ask him nicely he might give you a demonstration."

"No, no. Me's sword no be a tool of folly, me's . . . " Che was cut short by a piercing glare from Emerith. Slash returned with a glass of water. Emerith dipped a corner of the knapkin into the glass and proceeded to wash away the tears and dirt from Cilla's face. "My, my, little one, you do have beautiful eyes."

ArchMage Alexander
An exhausted Faust wakes from where he has been sleeping in the corner. Looking around the tavern he notices the crying girl. The cat stretches and then walks over to the table and hops up. "Why, hello, who might you be? Why are you crying? Che, can I have a drink? No not milk, I want something stiff.” 

Temporarily forgetting the girl Faust mumbles, "Why did that stupid mage have to go to Gehenna, Gehenna of all places in the wretched lower planes!" 

Che
Che is surprised at the quick leap from Archmage Alexander's familiar cat onto the table, and falls down. Gaining his upright posture again, the dwarf grumbles, "Stiff, eh? Comin' rights up." He then whispers something to Lucy and the daughter retreats to the kitchen.

Wicked Witch of the West
Cilla finally calms down a bit. The mention of the magic sword makes her forget her predicament.

"Could I see the sword Mr Dwarf! Please!!!" she calls after him.  "My grandfather told me he used to have a magic sling that didn't need any stones. he used to tell us all sorts of stories like how he killed a winterwolf with one blow. He couldn't show it to us though, he said someone stole it while he was sleeping and he never found that person," she explained to Emerith excitedly.

At that moment a cat jumped on the table and started taking to Cilla's surprise.  "A talking cat, how odd!?"  Cilla shakily touches the cat with her fingertips. "It's real . . . I can feel the fur..how is it that you can talk cat? And did you mention a mage? You belong to a mage? How wonderful! Maybe I can learn from him!!"

She strokes the cat a couple of times and scratches him behind the ear.

Che
Che is happy that the crying has ceased. He looks at Emerith, "Mr Dwarf. How quaint." The dwarf then spread his feet apart, hands on his hips, head in the air, and announces, "Me name is Che, but me friends calls me Che."

Emerith quickly swatted her father, "Oh, papa, that joke was only mildly amusing the first time you said it. Why must you continue saying that? Come up with some original material. Please!" Emerith turned away with an amused look of disgust on her face. Che stood there still looking to the heavens. Cilla giggled at the antics.

ArchMage
Faust leans into the stroking and begins to purr. "Yes, I can talk, but I don't 'belong' to a mage. I am his familiar, however. But that idiot went to Gehenna, and that severed our connection for a while." He stops talking as he moves his head so the child can scratch his other ear, "Yeah like that. Now as to teaching you, I'm not sure, he hasn't had an apprentice. We'll have to see what he says."

Wicked Witch of the West
 Cilla distractedly scratches the cat while giggling over the little scene between Che and Emerith. The cat's words bring her attention back. "Gehenna? What is that, it sounds like a bad place, why would he want to go there? Maybe I could wait for him here.  He's bound to come back for his familiar, no?"

Cilla turns to Che. "Um, Mr. Che," to which the dwarf gives her an stern look "I mean, Che, could I possibly stay in this tavern for a while? I don't have any money but I eat very little, take up little space and I could help in the kitchen or with cleaning.."

kiwidoc
There is a tentative knock on the door. A few seconds later when no one has answered, the door is hesitantly pushed open. Framed in the sunlight there stands a rather battered looking figure: a tall half-elven female with flyaway coppery curls, laughing green eyes, and a pleasant, squarish face. She is on the plumpish side of comely, but walks with the grace of a fighter, and under her patched and worn cloak there are glimpses of chain mail that has obviously seen better days. A heavy battered mace hangs at her side and she carries a large, battered leather case, heavily tooled with knotwork designs.

"Hello there," Her voice has a distinctive Celtic lilt and the rich undertones of a trained singer.  "I heard you were fixing up the tavern, and I wondered if perhaps you were looking for a bard"

ArchMage Alexander
“Of course he'll come back for me. That half-wit couldn't figure out which boot goes on which foot without me. And yes, Gehenna is very bad.”  Turning to Che he says, "You know what you need? A cat litter box. Speaking of which, I'll be right back." Hopping down, he goes out the back door then comes back a minute later. Faust then jumps up into Cilla’s lap and settles himself back down.

kiwidoc
Brynne the bard realizes no answer is forthcoming, shrugs and slips into the Rusty Sword. She finds a shadowy corner and opens the leather case. Nestled inside is a cittern. At first glance, the instrument is very plain—there is no decoration on the mellow gold wood, and the tuning pegs are simple carved bone, not chased silver.  However, a second look reveals smooth, flowing lines and a deep sheen that speaks of years of loving touch.

Soon the percussive echo of the hammer finds a more tuneful counterpoint as she tunes each string in turn, then begins playing deceptively simple but effective chords.

Che
Suddenly there was a loud scream followed by a thunderous thud. Gash returned from the kitchen with a saucer. "What be that scream from out back, there?" asked Che.

Gash hurriedly placed the saucer in front of Faust. "Well, Che, er boss, Heev was walking up the back stairs and slipped on something on the steps. He's ok, but it was not five minutes ago that I, myself had just swept there." Gash returned to his kitchen duties.

Che turned to the cat and stared. Faust refused to make eye contact with the dwarf and nestled its head into the comforting lap of Cilla. "Well, there's yer go, cat. Tomato soup, let sit outside fers a bit to stiffen it up fer ye. Hopes ye enjoys." The dwarf then turned his attention to the new stranger. "A bard, eh?" Che sauntered over to the stranger and placed his arm around her shoulder. The surprised stranger reluctantly gave no disapproval for the moment. Che then began to sing an old dwarven battle song.

"’Tis Be The Day O' Moradin! ‘Tis Be The Day O' Victory! For The Land . . . " Emerith and the others in the tavern were squinting their eyes as if that could ward the loud, off-key intonations of Che's singing. Emerith quickly grabbed her father away from the stranger, "Father, there is something wrong with the stills again."

"Wha....?" the dwarf abruptly answered. "Well me's better check on 'em 'ith all haste." Che waddled down to the cellar, much to the relief of everyone.

"Oh, please excuse my father, he is a little rambunctious today. A bard you be? We have always been missing a fine voice around here, as you can tell. What be your name, and what do you sing?"

kiwidoc
"I'm Brynne.” The bard smiled. "Don't worry about the dwarf, he's fine. I love anyone who throws themselves so wholeheartedly into a song, even if they do miss a few notes. I'll play you a few jigs and reel, and maybe the odd hornpipe for the dancers. As to singing, I can sing the odd saucy number for the patrons, and also a few stirring ballads of derring-do. My true love is the slow, sad songs of lost lives and loves; but I know there isn't that much demand for that sort of thing in a pub."

Che
Emerith presented Brynne with a broad smile. "Oh, that sounds just wonderful. A wide range to select from." As the eldest daughter conversed with the bard, she continually glanced down to the floor. Through the knotholes she could see Che clambering around the machinery below.

"Wha . . . there be nothin' wrong down 'ere. Maybe me's should test me new batch o' tequila though," were the muffled murmuring from Che.

Emerith continued with Brynne, "You know, we have a little one here, Cilla, who has taken refuge amongst us. Maybe a little song to brighten her spirits would be nice."

kiwidoc
"Hi there!" Brynne turns to Cilla and flashes her a quick grin.  "I see you like cats. So do I. Do you think he'll like this song?"

She launches into a spirited version of "The Owl and the Pussycat,” and soon has Cilla tapping her feet and joining in with the chorus.

"Nice singing. You'll have to tell me your name, and then maybe introduce me to your cat"

ArchMage Alexander
“Stupid dwarf. CHE! I meant, ah, nevermind. Just get me some tequila!” Faust then mumbles under his breath about the idiocy about people in general, and mages and dwarves in particular. Listening to the bard the cat pipes in, “I am not her cat, no one owns me. I am being friendly to her (and getting some good petting in at the same time) as she seems needs comforting. I am actually the familiar of a stupid mage who decided it would be fun to gallivant across Gehenna for a while, slaying gods and what not. By the way, good voice. How about some classical ballads, know any of the Myth Drannor epics?'

kiwidoc
Brynne turns a starled face to the cat.  "Oh, I am sorry! I had no idea. I am very pleased to meet you. I'm Brynne. I'm sorry I don't know the tale you mentioned. How about one of the ‘Mariadorn’ cycle, perhaps the one where Fraymar the doomed mage is singing for Velarthane, his lost love"

ArchMage Alexander
Faust makes a face at the mention of a love song and then sighs, "Oh well, sure why not. I'm Faust by the way, and this little girl is Cilla.”

kiwidoc
"Pleased to meet you, Faust, and you as well, Cilla." Then Brynne leans towards Cilla and whispers, "I see the old cynic not to keen on a love song. How about you, dear? I'll give you quick verse, then you decide"

The cittern played a haunting modal air, while Brynne softly sand

                       Velathane , Oh my lady love
                       Daughter of the sunset lands
                       My heart rests in your golden gaze
                       My life lies in your hands.
                       And I am gone across the restless sea
                       My fortune for to find
                       But the brightest jewel in all the world
                       I left it far behind

ArchMage Alexander
Faust begins to make a little sound and Brynne can just over hear him muttering something about someone named Alex and his favorite sappy ballad, and then he trails off into a string of creative, multi-lingual curses once again pertaining to mages.

kiwidoc
"What was that about Alex and soppy love songs?" Brynne had a mischievous glint in her eye as she said to Faust, "You know for a small fee I can write you a satire on this Alex, or any mage of your choice"

Palladium Muse
All the patrons in the bar heard a horrendous sound outside, as if a thousand glass mirrors had shattered simultaneously. The smell of brimstone filled the tavern.

Also from outside, they heard a powerful female voice shriek, "What have you done? You think by bringing me here you shall triumph? You think wrongly!"

Ravenwind
The portal had opened in mid-air, and Ravenwind had fallen out of it (again), this time crashing down onto one of the trestle tables in the tavern, hard enough to collapse the wooden structure under her armored body. She hauled herself to her feet, set herself, and pulled that shimmering sword out of air once more, her face set in grim lines. "I'm getting tired of this," she announced.

For an instant, the others saw a little of that same pale radiance in her face that made up the body of the sword, and then the glimmering vanished. Those who had been to the Abyss with Torm's handmaiden flinched. There was something familiar about that. . . 

Wicked Witch of the West
"A love song..!!" exclaimed Cilla.. "I like lovesongs!! My grandmother used to tell us how grandfather . . . "

At that moment it seemed like the skies opened and a strange female fell out of them..

Che
Che comes up from the cellar with a bottle of tequila in one hand. "What’s be goin' ons up 'ere that torments me ears so much?" The dwarf sees that some of his adventuring friends have returned.

Emerith motions for the daughters to begin cleaning the broken tables.

Che pours a small amount of tequila into the soup of Faust to keep the cat happy. He then makes sure on the safety of Cilla, "Ye be alright Cilla, me friends just like to makes a grand entrance o' a sorts. Would yers likes some more bread?"

Ravenwind
Some of the other adventurers burst through the door, slammed it behind them, and stood, breathing heavily, as if the inch-thick oak barricade between them, a half-dozen high-ranking demons, an avatar of the goddess of pain, and whatever else had followed them through the portal, might actually be of some use.

Alexander popped in out of thin air, and fell to the ground in much the same way Ravenwind had, landing almost on top of Cilla and poor Faust. Faust yowled indignantly as his tail got whomped by Alexander's staff. "Whoops, sorry, Faust," the mage apologized to his bristling familiar.

Raeython slid his swords from their sheaths, just as the oaken door of the tavern blew in off its hinges. The glowing figure of the avatar stood framed in the archway that remained.

This is it, Ravenwind thought with a calm realization. This is what our travails in the Abyss were meant to prepare us for. Now the only thing that matters is that we sell out lives as dearly as we can.

She lowered her head, and when she raised it again, she was softly singing the highest hymn of praise to Torm she knew. The sword in Raeython's hand flared, not green, but gold under the viridian hue that overlay the blade. The ranger was snarling a little, as if he were fighting the spirits within the blade, spirits that clamored for vengeance.

"Let them go, Raeython," Ravenwind said, even as the avatar raised her hand to cast her first spell.

Her friend looked startled, confused, and then a blast of emerald light exploded from the blade, arrowing towards the avatar. . . 

Wicked Witch of  the West
Cilla stares in horror at the door. The unearthly sounds make her shiver uncontrollably.

"Che I'm afraid," she whispers. "Are we going to die now?"

ArchMage Alexander
Alexander suddenly feels much better, noticing the girl that Faust was talking to he says, “Che, get her behind to bar. No one’s going to die.  Well, maybe an avatar,” he says as another shriek is heard. He begins to enter the throes of spell casting, feeling energized again. As he finished up his spell, all his allies suddenly sped up. He then began another spell.

Faust, meanwhile, yells at the girl to get behind the bar: "You never know what he's going to do with his spells!"

Che
Che grabs Cilla as per Alexander's instruction.

Che lowers himself to the ear of Cilla, "Nay, little one. You see the sword that is sheathed along me side. See 'ow the hilt quivers in anticipation. If anything a-foul come this a way, then yers goin' to see the majiks o' the Rusty Sword in action."

Che stood erect, and watched wary-eyed on what was to be the next course of action in his bar.

Figaro
He leaps behind the bar.  “Allright, I don't suppose we could move some of the move flammable alcohol away from us? He starts moving bottles from around the counter and places them under whatever cover is available.  “I really don't want to have to pick glass out of my skin for the next week. 

Then he quickly takes off his cloak and drapes it over the child.  “Try not to worry, everything is going to be okay.”

Aivanther
Aivanther fell out of the gate and rolled to his feet. Looking around he pulled out his bow and fitted an arrow of biting. Suddenly the door flew open, and he let loose an arrow, which bounced harmlessly off the avatar. Feeling suddenly speeded, the elf rolled to the side as a bolt of energy zapped where his head had been. Drawing his blades Aivanther ran at the woman jabbing at her. Though his saber did little, his dagger made her wince somewhat.

Vintar
“But . . . but we just LEFT Gehenna! Why is it just waiting for us at the other side!?” Wizzix cried out.

Instinctively he popped up a flame, and threw it towards the screeching avatar; however, it just kind of bounced off right back to him, whizzing past his head and into the curtains, starting a small blaze.

For a moment Wizzix just stood there, dazed. This could not be. Then he bolted towards the counter, seized by panic. With a thud, he landed beside Che.

ArchMage Alexander
“Eliethium burnem faelien carreth arde!” chanted Alex, and a bolt of pure white light flew from his hand and enveloped the avatar. It screamed in anger, but it shrugged off the magical forces surrounding it which were burning into it. "Mystra aid me," Alex muttered as he began another chant. 

Meanwhile Faust hissed, "Wizzix, you fool, go stomp out the fire or Che will have your head. Figaro and Che, why don't you see what happens to a Loviathar avatar when it is set alight with alcohol fire?"

Che
Che helps Wizzix to his feet, "Argh, fireballs and a such are a bad news in me bar." The dwarf quickly glances at Cilla to address any fearful concerns of the little girl To his surprise Cilla was clapping her hands and smiling at the momentous display of magic. "Hmph!"

Assured that Cilla was away from harm Che ordered the orcs to smother any errant flames in the bar with the tapestries. "Oh, dear, these a renovations are goin' to cost me more than me expected." 

Emerith guided the daughters upstairs from the fray below. Muriel quipped to Cheron, "I see the activity in papa's tavern hasn't changed."

Che then ordered the orcs back as Alexander prepared another spell. "Oh, fer the love o' Moradin, makes this one a bit icy Alexander."

Aivanther
Aivanther ducked as the enraged avatar swung.  Unfortunately for the elf, he didn't duck fast enough and was sent sprawling across the room. Hopping back to his feet, Aivanther sees that she is now engulfed in a strange white light. Not having time to consider the situation as thoroughly as he'd like, Aivanther charges again, this time sheathing his saber and grabbing a bottle of tequila off the bar. 

Spinning away from an attack, Aivanther smashes the bottle over her head as he stabs her in the heart. Now the avatar is truly angered, and grabs hold of the elf and hurls him out the door and through a window of the building across the street.

Ravenwind
As if in slow motion, the shockwave of green light from the erstwhile Flame of Justice struck the avatar. Ravenwind's hair stood up on the back of her neck, as she caught just the merest hint of voices in the backdraft of that blast, crying out in anger and pain, and then slowly rising into a crescendo of hope of delight--their chance for revenge was at hand.

The avatar actually stumbled under the onslaught, but then caught herself. "Foolish mortals," she said, and her voice was like a thousand red-hot needles piercing their ears, "do you think that such as you could ever overcome ME?"

She uncoiled her whip, and lashed out, the blood-red thongs hissing through the air, searing into Alexander, and disrupting his next spell, then jerking towards Raeython.

The lash coiled around the green-blazing sword in his hand, and the light went out as if snuffed. "No!" Raeython shouted, his voice anguished.

Ravenwind charged forward, her sword of pure light leading the way, only to be thrown aside like a ragdoll by a wave of power emanating from the avatar. "The powers within the Rod of Zantalya have increased me tenfold," the avatar taunted them, idly tugging on the whip, which was still twined around Raeython's sword. "I must THANK you for your service to me in releasing this power."

From where she lay on the floor, Ravenwind could see Raeython's face crease in agony. Not daring to hesitate an instant longer, Ravenwind lashed out with her sword--not at the avatar herself, but at the whip.

The red strands split, and fire crackled throughout the room as a massive discharge of energy ensued. The avatar screamed in rage. "Raeython, call on Mielikki!" Ravenwind shouted. "It's our only chance!"

Whispering a quick prayer to Torm herself, she lurched once more to her feet, her concentration so fixed that she hardly noticed the flames beginning to lick the floorboards under her feet and the rafters over her head.

Pyth Dranook
Riding at a slow, leisurely pace, enjoying the pleasant evening and peace of the open road, the plate-clad elf hums a tune to himself. He destination is an inn near here, that bears the name The Rusty Sword. The name did not strike him as unusual, most taverns bearing a similarly styled name. There was The Battered Shield last night (excellent spiced potatoes),The Dented Helm before that (the meat was a bit stringy and the bread a bit stale, but the innkeeper was a jovial man that brought a smile to the face), and on and on. No, the name was rather nondescript, but the news of quite a bit of trouble springing up in the vicinity of the inn. And trouble was a bad thing. Disturbed the peace and disrupted lives. With no current engagements, the Elf set out to investigate the rumors that seemed to abound concerning this inn.

As he drew with several hundred yards, he heard a dull booming sound, which interrupted the easy tune he was originally humming. Now alerted, his keen elven ears next heard a voice. A voice so loud and unnatural that, quite possibly, even deaf ears could have heard: "What have you done? You think by bringing me here you shall triumph? You think wrongly!"

"Well now, it would appear that I have found the trouble that I sought."

Nudging his mount, he increased his pace to a steady trot, to close the final few hundred yards, the inn now in sight. It was then that the elf saw the first of the Tanar’i, swooping through the air. Even without the use of his innate ability to detect evil, the waves of pure evil emanating from this foul creature were evident.

"Merciful Goddess, ‘twould appear I understated things . . . " Stopping to take in the situation, Pyth saw several demons swooping around the inn, and one unnatural looking woman. Gesturing momentarily, Pyth's senses were flooded with the incredible evil surrounding these creatures, as he confirmed through divine guidance what his eyes were telling him. 

Slipping from his mounts back, for fighting on horseback was awkward at best against an aerial target, Pyth slid the blade from his scabbard, and with a silent prayer to his far away Goddess, Pyth began to charge towards the inn as the Demons and a handful of people started to clash in combat, both physical and magical.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, while he was closing ground towards the combatants, were the questions: "Why are these demons attacking an inn?" and "I wonder if this inn has good spiced potatoes."

Figaro
Quickly, he pulls down the flaming curtains.  “I hope this works!” He nimbly runs up and drapes the flaming curtain around a demon.  “Well, that should hold him for about three seconds. Anyone else have any bright ideas?”

Daragor
Walking through the woods at night trying to read a map is never fun. Especially if you're approaching a building that sounds as if hell itself has been unleashed inside it. "This has to be it," Daragor says to himself. Thinking only that his old pal Che might be in danger, Daragor unsheathed his great sword and kicked the back door of the establishment in so hard that the hinges threw sparks as they bounced off the stone walls and floor.

Weaving his way through broken bottle and tubing that he didn't really know what to make of he saw light through an opening that led to the source of all the commotion. Stepping through the curtain from the back room, he spots Che guarding what appears to be a young girl. Moving quickly towards Che, he gives a whistle that only Che could possibly recognize.

Hearing the whistle Che turns quickly towards the sound in time to see Daragor, sword drawn and ready, by his side. "Close your mouth, old man, you look like you've seen a ghost. Tell me what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

ArchMage Alexander
"Ok, that's it. You're cat chow!" shouts Alex, a fire in his eyes. First he casts a stoneskin spell. Then, as he begins another one, he is hit twice by the woman, but is unaffected. Finally he finishes as he outstretches his hand. To those who look a small gate seems to open in the center of his hand. As the gate opened, a terrific but somehow controlled wind bellowed out of his hand, knocking the avatar off-balance. A shriek of outrage comes from her as she finds she can't fight the wind. "Ha! You like that!" shouts Alex. Suddenly an air elemental begins to slip out of the gate. "Dang it!" Alex says as he shuts the gate, ending the wind.

Che
Che sees Daragor. The memories of the two of them from battlefields long ago, fill the heart of Che. His battle comrade has returned. The dwarf ran to greet his friend, and among the confusion of the tavern, tripped on Faust and fell. The cat yowled an unflattering compliment to the dwarf about coordination. Che regained his composure and met Daragor.

"Welcome, good friend, welcome! Well as yers can see, we's a got a wee pickle a-goin' on 'ere. And believes you me, Che's gotta no part in its appearance. Well maybe a wee bit. But that o' no concern o' yers." Che grabs the massive arm of Daragor to prompt him to the ground. There, Che grabbed a tequila bottle from behind the bar and poured a couple of drinks. Handing one of the glasses to Daragor, "Cheers good friend, first we's drink, then we's fight, then we's talk about old times, and then we's talks about future times. Deal. Deal." Che lifts his glass to his lips. Gulp!

Daragor
Sitting with Che, hearing that quirky accent that he hadn't heard in ages, spurred the closest thing to a true emotion Daragor had felt in countless years. 

"Yes, friend, we drink. Then we fight. But, who are we fighting? Then can we eat? I'm starving. I see you have cat on the menu. Who's the kid"?

Aivanther
Aivanther kicks open the door of the house across the street and storms out the door, ignoring the shrieks coming from inside. Noticing Pyth, he moves up beside him and says, "Greetings, stranger. If you're looking for some excitement, that's the place to have it. But I'll warn you, it's a highly dangerous place to go." A shriek comes from the tavern, "Loviathar is a bit P.O.’ed at most of the people in there."

SwordMage
When SwordMage came through the gate he cast his last protective spell. It was not the best one, but Mirror Image is better than nothing. Energy struck him and with a "thanks" on the lips towards Alexander for casting haste, he turned around. The next stroke of energy was less friendly and came from the Avatar.

"That's it! I'm tired, I'm hungry and I don't know who you are, what you're babbling about, or how you manage to talk in capital letters!!" he shouts towards the Avatar, adding a "Arrgh!" when something else is struck him.

Well, he reacts like any other berserker would have reacted in his situation. He draws his recently garnered two-handed sword and follows his nature.

“RRAAAAGRH!”

'I wonder how good this sword will be, was his last clear thought.
Che
Even as the two fighters crouched, Daragor still towered over the dwarf. "Well, yers sees that flamin' avatar thingy . . . that's be one big baddie. Best let the magic users 'andle her fer now. What's we's can do is makes sure that no 'arm comes to the others." Che then motioned towards Cilla, "That's be Cilla, a wee traveller that 'as wandered into all o' this excitement. And that cat is a no friend o' this dwarf, but 'is mage is a good sort though."

Che perused the situation, taking note where the enemy was and where the magic was. "Daragor lets split, like from the Battle o' Crossnit, you's takes the east flank, and me's the west. We'll lets the mages flash their stuff and then see ifs we's can grunt our swords into the 'eart o' the enemy."

With that the two fighters crawled along the floor taking their positions. They awaited the next move.

Pyth Dranook
As he closed on the furious combat about the battered building, the newcomer elf slowed up to gauge the particulars of the melee. A woman with an unsettling appearance was lashing about with a whip, while a few demonic creatures flew about, setting fire to this or that, shrieking loudly as they cavorted madly.

Sensing that this supernatural woman was the leader, and subscribing to the old adage that to kill the leader is to kill an army, he figures she is the largest threat. Seeing her focus on a man with a glowing blade, engaging in a bit of a tug of war over the sword, Pyth directs his renewed charge directly at her . . .  and gets no closer than spitting distance before he is sees a woman who was knocked prone sever the whip, and is buffeted by the powerful energy emitted by the woman in her rage.  His charge is halted, as he is forced momentarily to his knees by the sudden overwhelming pain. 

Gritting his teeth and clasping his blade tighter, he regains his feet, he pushes forward slowly, like a man walking against a hurricane. As he comes within striking distance, Pyth snarls between teeth clenched in pain, "Demonic bitch, return to your Hell-blasted hole!" and swings his blade true.

Unfortunately, the razor-edged blade itself seemed to do no more to her than it would have a wall of solid stone. However, the blessed light of his consecrated weapon DID seem to affect her, as well as gain her momentary attention. Momentary, because she immediately responded with a bare-handed blow that sent Pyth sprawling like he was naught but a man of straw.

Palladium Muse
The avatar looked around icily at the group, standing in the gaping hole that once was the doorway and front wall of The Rusty Sword. Two paladins down, one strongly druidic ranger barely hanging on to his sanity, one mage seemingly held mesmerized by the swirlingly lurid purple of the Hellgate they just came through, one attempting to send air elemental at her.

Those outside the tavern saw the number of demons double, then double again, then yet again as they used their innate gate ability to summon others of their own kind. Like flies on a corpse, they settled on the inn.

Those inside the inn were deafened by the thunderous groans and shrieks of rending wood from above, and the tavern shuddered to it's very foundations. Those outside saw the demons rip the roof off of it, the wood crumbling in their taloned hands as if it were clay.

The avatar pointed at Alex, and suddenly no magic worked for him, everything magical he had was dimmed somehow, and would not function.

Another gesture, and Muse was encased in a swirling yellow globe. She started as if waking from nightmare, and beat on the walls of the sphere, which merely stretched without breaking.

The avatar smiled. “You small, insignificant fools. You dare to pit yourselves against me! I am near unto a goddess myself, and hold all the unholy power of my mistress at my beck and call. Fear me, and bow before me, and i will take you to her to feel her torment for the rest of your miserable days. Fight me, and die a thousand deaths in the pits of hell!"

And that was when the earthquake started.

Ravenwind
Ravenwind released her grip on the sword of light before her, and cried out to Torm. The sword hovered before her, and then spread out, suffusing her with its light, becoming one with her skin, an armor of purest energy.

She leaped to her feet, her hands bare of weapons, but completely at peace.

Above her head, the rafters cracked, and the adventurers could hear the screams of the people upstairs. Blood dripped down from the ceiling in a hot stream, splattering her white-glowing face.

Guy, cried out, his stern, proud, unyielding face full of horror. "The innocents!" he shouted, and ran for the stairs. "Someone, please, come with me! The demons are among the innocents above!"

Ravenwind caught Raeython's arm, and steadied her friend, and raised a hand burning with light towards the avatar, who actually flinched back from her a bit. "Raeython, let go," she whispered imploringly. "It is the only way. I can defend you, but for only so long."

As her words died into silence, the avatar leveled a blast of red energies at them; the glowing aura around Ravenwind absorbed the blast, but Torm's handmaiden staggered. "Please, Raeython!" she cried out.

Pyth Dranook
Regaining his feet, and wiping a bit of blood from his lip, Pyth raises his blade to once again challenge the demonic woman...

 . . . until he hears a cry from an armored man "The innocents!" These simple words catch Pyth's attention, and understanding the peril, he breaks off the engagement with the woman to race towards the stairs. While the woman may be the more potent threat, she is facing several well-equipped adversaries. However, the slaughter of the innocent and helpless is by far the greater evil, and Pyth races up the stairs as quickly as his pain striken body can go.

Reaching the top, he almost immediately retraces his path down the stairs head over heels as a demon takes a swipe at his head when he neared the upper landing. Thankfully, it misses, and even more so, left itself exposed after it over extended its reach, and Pyth's blade found a momentary scabbard deep within its torso. Ripping the blade out, then twisting in a viscious overhand chop, a deep gash was opened at the base of the Demon's neck, dropping it. 

"Come for me, ye blasted dogs of the Underworld!!", he yells as a challenge, hoping to draw their attention to give the helpless people a chance to flee downstairs.

Turning to face the next demon, Pyth rushes directly at it, sword raised in challenge.

Daragor
Seeing the attention of the creature intently focused on the two brave souls in front of it Daragor chose then to make his move. Having positioned himself behind the creature he sprang forward in a blur, blade extended. The creatures hands which had been extended towards the advancing warriors flew outward as the blade pierced her flesh extending a full 24 inches thru her chest. The sharpened spikes at the guard of the sword did their job as the sunk into her back. Bracing himself and straining with all his strength Daragor lifted the creature from the floor. 

All the warriors could see of this huge stranger was his cape and hood, but they heard him bellow plainly "Strike now warriors! This may be out only chance!”
Aivanther
Suddenly, Aivanther appeared behind the woman and plunged his blades deep into the avatar. He could feel the surge of power through the dagger as his god aided him. "By Mask, I'll serve your head to a displacer beast," whispers the elf as the power rush continues. However, there's a sudden backfire as Loviator's avatar pushes back against Mask, and Aivanther is once again hurled out door. One can just make out his curses in both the elvish and drow tongues as he crashes through the other window of the house accross the street.

Vintar
When seeing Che and his new friend calmly having a drink in the midst of battle, Wizzix’s mouth dropped open. He then just started to laugh uncontrollably; he just couldn't help it, the tension in his body just had to escape somehow. Here they were, in the midst of hell, the earth trembling, and the tavern being ripped apart, and Che still couldn’t help being a host to his guests…

In his bag, he now felt the bottles of holy water. Think straight. Get a hold of yourself. He looked sideways towards the young girl hiding behind the counter: “Want to help out? Here, throw this.” He handed her one of the four remaining bottles. “Throw it at anything that looks mean!’ With that, he jumped up from behind the counter and threw a bottle towards the Avatar, who by now had freed herself from the annoying piece of fabric..

Ravenwind
SwordMage, beginning to froth at the mouth in his rage, pounded up the stairs behind the strange elven knight, with Karasu on his heels. Karasu grabbed a vial of holy water from Wissix and shouted back over her shoulder as she ran, "Don't throw those at the avatar-she's the essence of a goddess, not a demon; it won't have any effect!"

In the meantime, the others watched as Aivanther raced in from the street and attempted a backstab on Loviathar's avatar, while the strange man with the silver sword struck at her—and actually ran her through. The avatar's distraction let Ravenwind and Raeython exchange a startled look for an instant. "A vorpal weapon?" Raeython asked.

"This party wouldn't be complete without the several hundred aggravated Githyanki that are probably after this guy," Ravenwind managed to reply.

"Oh, a few yochlol wouldn't go amiss," he retorted, and they grinned. For instant, it seemed like old times.

Then the avatar backhanded the strange man away, pulled the sword out of her breast, and hurled it after him. Her eyes burning, she turned and hurled another bolt of energy at Ravenwind. And another. And another.

Ravenwind was on her knees, barely holding onto the shield of light that surrounded her. Blood ran from her eyes, her nose; bubbled out of her mouth in a thin streak. She coughed, and tried to form the words of a prayer for healing. And the avatar hit her again, focusing on her, and the hated white light of Torm's power around her, to the exclusion of all else. And again. And again, like a hammer striking down on an anvil.

Palladium Muse
By now everyone was having problems keeping their feet, with the exception of Che and a few of his daughters, their center of gravity being a bit lower than the others'. The building began to creak ominously, as did the buildings to either side of the tavern.

The avatar's smile was cruelty itself as she lashed out Ravenwind, and everyone else who was standing. The noncombatant patrons of the inn fell to their knees as her aura of pain filled the room. Faust gave a yowl of surprise and shook himself, looking not unlike he'd been doused in cold water. Looking down to the ragged hole in her chest, she reached two fingers into it, and a look of rapturous agony swathed her features, all to quickly replaced by evil determination.

Outside, the whirling violet of the gate grew more violent, sending pulsing flashes of light to briefly highlight the interior of the tavern, and all of the street. Even the avatar glanced at it in something resembling uncertainty.

Upstairs, the demons began settling to the floor, all the better to grab fleeing residents, only to be met by Guy and Pyth's steel protection. The ones still in flight began squabbling while fighting, it seemed they were quarreling over who would get the choicer bits of the humanoids once the fighting was done.

Everytime they gated more of their own kind in, the Gate flared and stretched, contorting and growing larger.

Vintar
The bottle of holy water shattered against the avatar, its contents spilling onto the floor and sprinkling over Ravenwind. The Avatar didn't even notice the impact, but it seemed to Wizzix that a faint glow came over Ravenwind. Ravenwind! Wizzix saw the life draining away from the weakened paladin. No one shall die today. The gnome ran towards the avatar and jumpe onto her shoulders, clawing frantically at her eyes in a blind rage. For a moment, Loviatar paused in surprise. Then she grabbed Wizzix and held him over her head. The gnome screamed with pain as jolts of evil energy coursed through his body. The Avatar threw him out the door like a rag doll, where he landed in some bushes, charred and motionless.

Raeython
The nausea of gate travel is multiplied ten-fold, as PM's warped gate spell brings them crashing back into the Rusty Sword. As soon as Raeython gets his bearings, he draws his swords as he hears the avatar outside the door. Then, as if realizing they are finally free of constraint, the voices in Raeython's head hit a new crescendo of volume. Raeython does his best to push the voices to the back of his mind, but they keep battering away at the boundries Raeython has set up against them.

Suddenly, the avatar of Loviather is through the door, advancing on them. A bolt of vibrant green light shoots out of Raeython's sword, and hits the avatar in the chest. The avatar snarls in response, and lashes out with her whip; which Raeython catches on his sword. As the glowing red whip contacts the sword, the green nimbus that surrounds his sword falters, and is extinguished!

For the first time since he picked up the sword, Raeython is alone in his head. The emptiness is startling, and all Raeython can do is struggle reflectively against the avatar, as she lashes out at him with her whip. Just as the avatar is moving in for the kill, Ravenwind slashes through the whip with her holy sword of light. The discharge throws everybody back and staggers the avatar, giving Raeython and Ravenwind enough time to pick themselves up and regroup.

As they square off against the avatar, it suddenly screams in annoyance, as an adventurer ran it through the back. The avatar nonchalantly backhands the offending person away, pulls the sword out, and flings it after the airborne person.

The avatar's distraction let Ravenwind and Raeython exchange a startled look for an instant. "A vorpal weapon?" Raeython asked.

"This party wouldn't be complete without the several hundred aggravated Githyanki that are probably after this guy," Ravenwind managed to reply.

"Oh, a few yochlol wouldn't go amiss," he retorted, and they grinned. For instant, it seemed like old times.

Then, the avatar let out a bellow of ire and rage, and sent bolt after scintillating bolt of blinding energy towards Ravenwind, weakening her shield. All of the avatar's attention was focused on Ravenwind, as she continued to beat on the weary paladin. Once again, Raeython can see her mouth the words "Let go, call on Mielikki" as blood is now running freely from her mouth and nose.

Time seems to fold in on itself to the troubled ranger, and the events around him slow down to a crawl. The avatar continued to pound on Ravenwind with mystical energy, but now the conflict is detached and apart from Raeython. Ravenwind's words are the only thing that seems real to Raeython, as they echo through his head.

Raeython closes his eyes and his mind expands, once again putting him back in the grove, just as the Rod of Zantayla is being destroyed. No longer in his corporeal body, Raeython can see all of the events unfold. As Raeython watches the druids complete their chants and prayers, Raeython can see the ethereal essence of the avatar enfuse the rod. As the druids complete their ritual, Raeython can feel the avatar twisting their mighty magic, feeding off of it. Then Raeython witnesses for the second time the destruction of all that he held dear as the druids and the trees are wiped out by the backlash of energy from the destruction of the rod.

Raeython's soul cries out in anguish as he watches them fall again. Just when it seems that the whirlwind of emotions are going to sweep his sanity away, Raeython feels a calming essence; as he finds himself face to face with his mother one final time.

Do you understand now what you must do?

I don't know if I can do it, mother. You are all gone, the grove is gone, I have nothing left to live for.

You must let go, Raeython. We and the grove have served our purpose. We have been a focus for nature and balance, but our time has past. Let us go, Raeython... and take up your burden. It is time for you to fulfill your destiny, and serve your god. That is why we took you in, to prepare you for your task. Now, let go of your hatred and doubt, and serve your god!

As the final words of his mother fade away, Raeython finally admits to himself what he must do. For the first time since the destruction of the grove, Raeython feels his inner calm and is at peace. Raeython opens his eyes which are, forever more green, even through is pupil.

Raeython can see his longtime friend and companion Ravenwind on the ground, holding onto her shield with her last bit of strength. Justice, nature, balance . . . these things run through Raeython's mind, as his sword begins glowing again; this time with a soft blue aura. Raehthon begins a prayer to Mielikki, and his sword glows brighter and brighter as he continues his chanting.

Raeython finishes his prayer, and with a defiant yell to his god, "MIELIKKI!" Raeython plunges his sword into the stomach of the distracted avatar. The avatar snarls in rage, and focuses her attention on Raeython.

"You will die a slow, tortured death for that, roasting eternally in the fires of Gehenna." Suddenly, the avatar's eyes widen in shock and pain, as her body starts to distort. Her arms start to elongate, and leaves start growing from the ends. Her torso starts expanding, and taking on a bark-like exterior. The avatar grows bigger and taller, branches sprouting out from her arms and head as they reach towards the sky, bursting through the ceiling of the Rusty Sword. In a matter of moments, the avatar is transformed from a creature of destruction, into a gigantic tree.

Raeython looks down to his trusted friend Ravenwind, lying exhausted on the floor. Raeython bends down and whispers a quick prayer, and Ravenwind's wounds close and disappear completely.

"I believe it's finally over, friend."

Ravenwind
"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely. 

She heaved herself upright. "Think you need to rename that," she said, nodding to the sword Raeython's hand. "How about 'Nature's Avenger'?"

The ceiling above them bowed, and they could still hear screams. "Somehow, I think we still have business--closing that damned portal!" Raeython replied.

And the ceiling over their heads collapsed.

Daragor
Gathering his wits and breath from his recent trip across the room Daragor rose to a crouch to maintain his balance in the shaking room. Tossing aside some loose debris he picked up his sword. "There you are" he said to himself, "Let's try this again.” Just as he was beginning to move towards the action once again he heard the creature scream the unworldly sounds he'd ever heard. Staying put for now seemed his best course of action, as he'd never seen a creature transformed in to a tree.

It would appear to be over. The armored woman was rising to her feet, the druid's arms were at his side. The scream from upstairs were noticibly louder now that the great room of the tavern was silent. As he started to move towards the staircase the ceiling itself bowed downwards under the stress from above. "This doesn't look good" Daragor muttered "Che cover yourself friend, this roof isn't gonna hold." Sheathing his sword Daragor grabbed a table top and crouched with it wedged over himself against the wall. Just in time for the entire ceiling to collapse.

Palladium Muse
Outside, Muse was released from the sphere with a *pop* that made her head rattle. She stumbled and fell, but managed to get to hands and knees as the earth settled down once more.

Lurching to her feet, she stared at the gate. Touching it with her senses made her turn to the side and empty the contents of her stomach onto the dusty road.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she set herself, feet spread, arms wide, and tapped any and all magical energies in the land, for a wide radius. Even to those without magical senses, she began to glow.

Filaments of energy speared into and around the gate, weaving quickly into a net. The Gate fought back, snapping the threads, causing them to snap back into PM.

The strain of holding the weave was obvious, as sweat streamed down her pale face, jaw set, making her face hard.

Step by step, she approached the gate, the thin strings of energy continuously shooting from her fingers, more and more, and just as many torn asunder by the gate's struggles.

Unnatural silence fell, the glow around PM radiated, then infused the mage, until she was too bright to look at.

The gate still surged, threatening to break free.

Ravenwind and Raeython heard her voice float through their minds. "Faretheewell, my friends. Perhaps I will see you somewhere, somewhen else."

And she stepped into the gate.

With a roaring boom, it collapsed in on her, white energy and purple light battling even as they joined. A brief vortex of brightness, and it was gone...

Ravenwind
Ravenwind collapsed, tears streaking down her bloody face, stinging the broken flesh in her eyes. "Nooooooooooooooo!" she wailed, and leaped forward to where the gate had been.

But there was no body left to resurrect. She could only hope there was a spirit left somewhere that the gods of Palladium's homeworld would take to their bosoms.

She knelt in the dirt of the road and would have prayed for her friend, if she had known what to say. Raeython rested a hand on her shoulder, tears streaming down his face as well.

Raeython
Raeython heard PM's final words in his head, then had to watch in agony as her body was torn asunder by the magical energies unleashed by the gate. He heard Ravenwind's heartfelt cries, and place his hand on her shoulder, as the tears streamed down the sotic ranger's face. "It can't end like that. After all we have been through together, that can't be the end." Raeython can't help but stare at the area he last saw PM, a vacant look of loss evident on his face.

VigaHrolf
As VigHrolf and Torulf walked up the path towards the Rusty Sword they saw flashes of light and heard  loud crashes echo through the air. He unlimbered Troll Biter and Orc Crusher with a sigh.  "Never a dull minute. Well, the revenge business was never was easy. But this is the last time I trust a dwarven tour guide."

He and Torulf padded closer to the inn, seeing the demons circling and saw a woman step into a spinning gate. The gate exploded, temporarily blinding him. When his sight returned, he saw the carnage and some people sprawled on the ground. VigaHrolf charged out of the undergrowth and ran towards the prone figure and her friend with Torulf close behind.

"By Wodan's beard and my fathers bones, what is going on here? Demons? Exploding women? Do you need my help?"

Ravenwind
Ravenwind blinked, stared up at the large man who'd just entered the scene, and waved vacantly at the burning building behind them. "Demons. Monsters. Inside. Innocent people."

Suddenly coming back to herself, she repeated, "Innocent people. Right, let's go, Raeython, I don't think that the tavern's going to be standing too much longer, so we'd better get people out, and kill some of these Hellspawn."

Wearily, she reached out into air once more, and drew that weapon of light forth once more. "Let's get to it."

Che
Che was covered with many of the fallen timbers from the ceiling. He struggled to free himself. "Argh! ‘Tis be more renovatin' than me's 'ad in mind!" Suddenly there were screams. Che's daughters were the ones upstairs and were now being chased by the demons.

Emerith gave a shrilling scream, "Papa, help us!"

Che's heart filled with anger and desperation as he heard the fearful echoes from his daughters, but the dwarf was trapped for one beam still lay across his leg. Too stubborn to call for help, Che attempted to move the beam himself.

Daragor
Pushing the table off himself, Daragor spotted his old buddy Che struggling with a timber. "Bailing you out again, old friend. Some things never change do they?" Che is frantically trying to free himself. He says to Daragor, "Those be me daughters trapped with those bastards above. Free me!”

Daragor throws the timber off his friend and in two strides is at the stairs. Racing up them to what is left of the upper floor he encounters a demon in mid-leap towards a cowering dwarven girl. The demon's arm that was reaching towards the girl fell to the stairs with a thunk. As the foul creature turned to look at the source of his wound, he did so with one eye as half of his head was now on its way to the stair as well. Not waiting for it's death throes Daragor booted the creature aside and scooped the scared girl up with his left arm. The girl seeing this hooded man with white eyes screamed even louder. Stepping back down Daragor handed the girl to Che who was coming up the stairs as fast as his little legs could bring him. "Here Che! How many more are missing"?

VigaHrolf
Hearing about Demons and innocents was enough to shake off the shock of explding people. With weapons ready he followed the two into the remains of the inn with Torulf close behind.  Inside the inn the stink of blood and burning flash filled the air. For a second he was stopped dead in his tracks as the memories of his clan's death ran through him like hot lead. "Never again. Not this time!!" he roared and waded into the rubble. 

A demon jumped in fornt of him and hissing through its fangs. Without a second's though, VigaHrolf swung both axe and hammer, crushing its skull and chopping deep into its shoulder. A quick kick knocked the crushed demon down as frost began to form on its crushed skull. He spun around to see a huge arm and the dwarf run up the stairs he began loking about the remains of the main room for any one else in need of aid. He heard Torulf growl in alarm, and spun to face a demon. 

His reactions were off, and the demon landed a blow to his chest staggering him. As he tried to steady himself, Torulf lept onto the back of the demon ripping out a large chunk of foul flesh. VigaHrolf gritted his teeth and swung his weapons. Troll Biter ripped through his leg and his hammer crushed into the demon's groin, redefining 'blue balls' With a groan, the body of the demon crashed to the ravaged inn

"Which one of you foul creatures is next?"

That’s when VigaHrolf felt a tap on his shoulder. 

Vintar
Faint sounds entered Wizzix's mind. Slowly, reality came back. In a blur, he saw innocent people fleeing in terror, and in their midst, the blazing tavern. He dragged himself towards what he believed to be the doorway, peering at the demons entering the upper levels through large gaps in the roof. The gate, however, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a large tree seemed to have sprouted in the Rusty Sword itself. Wizzix hardly noticed, however.

He staggered into the tavern. Hearing the horrific cries around him, he shook his head, trying to clear it. So much evil . . . “This place needs a good cleansing,” he thought. He clenched his teeth and threw the remaining vials into the fire. A huge cloud of steam bellowed out from the flames, filling the room, then escaping upward through the hole where once the ceiling had been. from above.  New shrieks emerged; Wizzix couldn't help letting out an evil grin. Then his will collapsed and he sunk to the ground in the middle of the tavern.

Che
Che gives a thankful nod to his friend Daragor. "There be eight more o' me lovelies around, dwarven and half-dwarven." The dwarf looks around at the destruction of his tavern and the mayhem about. He glances at the monstrous tree that towers above the once proud structure he claimed as home. With a flash of memories cascading through Che's mind, he reluctantly makes a vital decision. With the devil-spawn still running about and flames growing larger, he issues a command to his dear friend.

"Daragor, find me all o' me daughters and tell them to run to Hack's farm. If they gives you any lip, tell 'em it be the word o' Thi." Daragor acknowledges the command, with strong resolve within his heart that his friend's wisdom guides well.

Che then looked at Brynne and waved her over. "Brynne, deary, takes the little one Cilla, out through the back o' the tavern. Yers will a be safe there." Brynne gathered her instruments and grabbed the now frightened girl and led each other through the kitchen. Che followed behind and saw his six orcish minions line up at attention awaiting commands. The dwarf saw no fear in their eyes and it made him proud. "’Tis may look like a bad days boys, but ‘tis may be the beginnings o' somethin' better." The orcs responded with smiles of confidence.

"Now, boys, goes to the cellars and takes me trunks out to the back, and do it with alls 'aste." Hack and Slash led the other orcs down to the cellar. Each of them returned with a massive trunk upon their strong backs. Che waddled down the stairs to assistance. 

When Che was assured that his valuables were safe he ordered Hack and the others to his farm. Hack silently acknowledged, but before he left, the orc tugged on the arm sleeve of the saddened dwarf. "Nay, me's will a-be up in a moment, go, go!" With that, Hack led the orcs to safety.

Che looked at the six massive stills he had just finished repairing. Each of them full of his finest tequila, and the proof was maximized. The dwarf then drew out his trusty rusty sword. The magical artifact seemed hesitant to react to Che's mental commands. The dwarf was reluctant in his mind to do what he must, but eventually realization of the desperate situation took full meaning. The end of the sword plunged deep into the metal side of the first still. The transparent liquid that many had grown fond of seeped out onto the floor. Che repeated the process with the other stills, until the fumes in the cellar were almost strong enough almost overcome the dwarf. It was time to leave.

Che returned to the kitchen and looked back into the greatroom of the tavern. He quickly closed his eyes, as he could foresee the horror that was about to happen to his tavern. He turned away to leave through the back, but just as he got to the door, he reached back to a plate on the counter a retrieved a sandwich, "Mmmmm, this sandwich is really good." 

Che has left the building.

kiwidoc
In the battered courtyard out back of the inn, kiwidoc sits with Cilla.

"Gods, the last thing I remember was some cat complaining about my singing and then some woman fell on my head. The song wasn't that bad."

Shaking her head to clear muzziness, she peers around the street. A strange sight greets her–the area is full of rubble, broken bottles and trestles and a distinct smell of brimstone. A huge tree dwarfs them all.

"What in all the hell happened here? And someone heal me please, my head hurts"

VigaHrolf
VigaHrolf turns around to see a huge spiny, ugly looking demon. The glimpse is quick as the demon catches him with a quick roundhouse that sends him flying into a partially destroyed wall, finishing the job. 

VigaHrolf gets up, and straightens his helmet. "You vile beast, you dented one of the eye holes! You're going down."

With a guttural scream, VigaHrolf charges into the demon, axe and hammer swinging. They both make contact, slamming into the beasts arms. It crumples to the ground and Torulf starts ripping into its throat, spraying black blood everywhere. A couple of blows later, the Demon is dead. 

VigaHrolf sees a dazed elf rise from the rubble and hears more screams from upstairs. With a quick gesture to Torulf, they charge upstairs to save whoever is left. 

The upper floors are a ruin, full of fire and smoke. He sees the large amsked man battling with a demon off in the mist but before he joins him, he hears a soft cry for help unter a broken table. It is a small dwarven woman. He grabs her up and runs her out of the inn.

Daragor
Bounding the stairs Daragor steps over broken furniture and sundries looking for Che's daughters. Moving a splintered door aside he see's four girls huddled in a corner. Holding his hand up to calm the girls, Daragor says, "Your father sent me. Follow me out of the room and get downstairs as fast as you can. Don't look back. Ready, let's go". Stepping thru the door he steps full into a demon, looking for something to get in to. Putting his shoulder into the beast chest he pushes straight ahead, calling to the girls, "Get downstairs now!”

Catching the demon off guard worked to his advantage. Stumbling backwards the demon screamed in rage at being touched by a human. Hopping forward to attack he was met full force by Daragor's silver blade whistling through the air. Swinging downward with his blade he split the demons chest open spilling black blood like a fountain. At the bottom of his swing he turned to build momentum, coming around with all his strength the blade sliced through the demons midsection cleanly. Still screaming and not aware of what had happened to itself, it didn't know exactly what to do when Daragor pushed the top half off the bottom and walk past it, so it continued to scream as it's blood ran out. 

Looking in rooms as he went, coughing as the smoke became thicker, he opened the last door left unopened. His first thought was "This can't be!” His second was pure black hate. One demon was holding two girls down. Their faces distorted in sheer horror at what they were seeing. The other demon had the last girl pinned against the wall. It was plain to Daragor that the girl was seriously hurt, how bad he couldn't tell. Grabbing the demon holding the two girls by its ear he pulled its head backward towards him. One quick cut and that demon was going to need a while to regenerate that damage; they just don't grow bodies back that fast. 

"GET OUT GIRLS, GET OUT NOW!” The other demon had already dropped the remaining sister and was advancing on Daragor. Shielding the girls from the beast Daragor had no choice but to take the full swing from the creature on the shoulder. The black fabric tore as did the flesh underneath. With the girls safe Daragor whirls around on the demon just in time to take another swipe, this one in the chest. The demon swung again, confident that the big human was his next prize. The arm he was swinging dropped to the floor. The demon actually looked shocked, for the next half second. Thrusting his blade into the demon’s chest he pivoted slightly for better balance and completed the attack by pulling the blade upwards, causing the creature’s arm to fall limply to its side. As the demon collapsed, Daragor scooped up the girl and turned to the door only to be greeted by a wall of flame. Shielding the girl under his cloak he looked at the window behind him and knew the only choice was to jump.

So he did.

Wicked Witch of the West
Cilla still a bit shaky from all the events that took place hugs Brynne. "The song wasn't bad, but I think it may have had some nasty side effects. Are you sure your cittern doesn't have abilities such as say, opening portals?? The village priest used to tell us to be careful with magical artifacts and to give them to him."

Ravenwind
The spectral figure of Guy suddenly appeared in the window from which Daragor had jumped. “Everyone, out!" he roared over the sounds of crackling flames. There were a few people left inside, and he helped each to jump from the burning building in turn, SwordMage and Wissix going last. When the barbarian lightly hit the ground, he turned and caught the gnome's small body and gently set him on his feet. "Come, now, holy fighter!" the barbarian mage shouted back up to Guy, his rage by now dissipated.

Guy shook his head, his expression melancholy. "Someone must remain behind, to make sure none of the demons escape the holy steam or the purifying fire. There is none better than I to do that task."

He ducked his head back into the window. A few moments later, the last dying screams of the demons within were echoed by the groan of wooden timbers collapsing in on themselves. The tavern lay in a fiery heap, like the glowing nest of a phoenix, huddled around the roots of the mighty tree, which even now seemed to be growing taller.

Ravenwind watched all in exhaustion, past tears as she watched Guy. "Perhaps now you have earned some measure of redemption and peace," she said in a harsh whisper. Louder she said, "Is everyone all right? I saw an elf clad in full plate in there at one point—did he make it out?"

ArchMage Alexander
A dimensional gate opens next to Ravenwind and Alex steps out with Faust on his shoulder. "Really, it was quite interesting, the way magic was changed led for some interesting possibilities. In fact that planar gate I opened in my hand to the elemental plane of air, I got that idea from something I learned there." Faust simply sighed apologetically to those listening to his rambling. 

"Where's that elf?" the cat says, interrupting the mage. Then a battered elf wearing plate mail stumbled out of the portal. "Ah there he is. Took your sweet time, you could have been burnt to a crisp. Ah well," hopping down and moving to Cilla Faust says, "Cilla, this is my mage, Alexander, a fruitcake of a magic-user, though a powerful one. Alex, this is Cilla, a young girl who wants to learn the ways of magic."

Raeython
Ravenwind is staring at the fire consume what was once the majestic Rusty Sword tavern. Many a fond memory was born in that place, and a single tear of nostalgia rolled gently down her face.  Staring at the blaze she looked around at the battered companions both new and old, and realized that Raeython was missing. Looking around, she caught sight of a figure concealed in the shadows of a nearby building.

Taking her leave of the other people, she walks over to the solitary person.

"You seem lost in thought" Ravenwind exclaimed as she approached the ranger, wondering what thoughts were going through his head.

Raeython had been staring at the blaze and more specifically, the tree still standing amidst the burning timber for quite some time. At first he seemed almost reluctant to talk, but Ravenwind realized that was just because he was choosing his words carefully.

"I have reached a turning point in my life", Raeython responded in a near whisper. "Things will never be the same for me again. Just look at what I did" Raeython says as he points at the tree. "I did that. Not the sword, not the druids, just me. I prayed to my goddess, and she answered my plea. I don't know if I am ready to handle the responsibility Mielikki heaped on my shoulders. I am a ranger, a woodsman . . . a swordsman." 

As if accentuate that point Raeython draws his shortsword and Natures Avenger and runs through a short, blinding routine before returning both swords to their sheaths. 

"I'm not a druid, I never asked to be a druid. I rely on my steel, my bow, and my woodskill to pull me through. I never asked for this burden, I never wanted this responsibility. What am I supposed to do..." Raeython trails off, staring once again at the giant tree.

After a few moments, Raeython shakes his head as if to clear it. "Enough on this, let us talk of more important matters. What exactly, if anything, can we do about PM?"

Aivanther
The door of the house across the street flies open, and a bloodied and beaten Aivanther trudges out. Turning back to the voices screaming and shouting inside he says, "Shut up, fools! You're lucky she didn't come with me!" Turning back he gazes at the Rusty Sword. He is shocked at the blaze in which it is engulfed, and to his companions it looks as if he is verging on a breakdown. Finally he recovers himself and rejoins the group, picking glass fragments out of his hands and face. "Did you get her?" 

An absentminded Raytheon simply nodded. "Well, is there a nearby sect of Loviator's worshippers? I really feel a need for some revenge and plundering."

Wicked Witch of the West
Cilla upon seeing Faust swoops him up in her arms. "I'm glad you are all right. I was afraid a small creature like you would have been easily crushed in there." While busy petting him she looks up at Archmage Alexander her eyes filled with awe.

The events of the last couple of hour have been almost too much to bear but the presence of a wizard suddenly reminds her of her purpose. Alexander's magic although frightening also increased her fascination with the field. She finally gathers all her courage, releases Faust and walks up to Alexander. A gentle tug at the charred sleeve of the mage is enough to attract his attention. "Excuse me sir . . .  but I was wondering if you would consider accepting me as an apprentice. I'm willing to do anything to become a wizard like you."

ArchMage Alexander
Alex chanted a quick spell and a chair appeared, sitting in it he said to Faust, "Ha! I told you that spell would be useful. Now, Cilla, I need to know about you first. Where you come from, and so on."

Pyth Dranook
Inns and demons. these two words are generally NOT synonymous. Standing there trying to figure out the unfathomable connection between a roadside inn and a group of demons accompanied by the Avatar of one of the odd deities of this foreign land, Pyth's thoughts were intruded upon by another of his earlier thoughts: Did this inn have good spiced potatoes?

These random and quite untimely thoughts surfacing was not something odd to the quite introspective Elf, nor was it quite odd when he said, to no one in particular, "I guess now I will never know . . . "

Turning to check himself over, now that the battle had ceased, and more importantly, the slaughter of the innocent had ended, he discovered that he was remarkably unharmed. His armor was a little worse for wear, but nothing an hour with a smith's hammer could not remedy.

"Blessed Goddess, you saw me through once more, and for this I thank you once more..." he simply says, once again to no one in particular.

Taking in the group seemingly for the first time, Pyth assesses those gathered before him. A woman clad in heavy armor and wearing the symbol of one of the Gods of this realm. Torc? No . . .  Toom. No . . . TORM! That was it. A God much akin to Kiri-Jolith of his home. A child of the light, perhaps? Next to her, was a man, clad in the garb of a woodsman. He was the man he recalled that was the focus of that strange woman's attack, and he now appears to be quite filled with emotion.

There was a man, clad in the accoutrements of a magic-user, and based off the speaking cat, that would be his familiar. That or this world has some strange inhabitants indeed.

There was an elf, wearing dark, nondescript clothing, who appears to be in a most foul mood, picking glass from his skin and clothing. But then, after such an encounter, most would be in quite a mood.

There were a handful of other people gathered around, most still in shock to some degree or another, their faces ashen, some bloody as well from wounds.

Clearing his voice, and speaking up for the first, "I have been traveling to investigate reports of trouble surrounding a certain inn, one Rusty Sword. Am I to assume that I have indeed found that place?"

kiwidoc
 A strange peace descends upont the courtyard of the battered tavern. The shattered and burnt remains still smoulder, and the dazed survivors huddle in the flickering light. Small, shadowy figures move among them, the daughters of Che checking each silent figure for wounds and accounting for all the patrons. 

Miraculously it seems that all are here, though some will bear scars on both body and soul for many years to come. Despite this, no one seems inclined to celebrate their victory.

Che himself looks long and hard at the remains of his beloved Inn, and sighs deeply.

In a dark corner a faint tune can be heard, a scattering of silver notes that seems to catch the mood. Brynne begins to sing - a song of victory and of hope yet tinged with sadness and loss

                       Of all the sights these eyes have seen, 
                       The strangest tale I'll tell to thee
                       Of how a sword became an Inn
                       And how an Inn became a tree

                       A battle torn from far flung planes
                       Burst upon the peaceful inn
                       Against the powers of Loviathar
                       Who could hold and who could win

                       A magic born of root and leaf
                       A power drawn from the living earth
                       The seed was sown in druids death
                       A rangers need gave it birth

                       Where stood a daughter of the night
                       An avatar of hate and pain
                       Now whispering leaves and dappled light
                       And shelter from the driving rain

                       Forever changed the evil woman
                       Caught in the heart of the mighty tree
                       Forever changed the humble ranger
                       Caught in the grasp of destiny

                       Of all the sights these eyes have seen, 
                       The strangest tale I'll tell to thee
                       Of how a sword became an Inn
                       And how an Inn became a tree 

Ravenwind
Almost too weary for words, Ravenwind lay a hand to her amulet of Torm, and murmured a few soft words. Rather to her astonishment, her head did not immediately begin to throb with the proximity of evil.

In fact, it had been so long since this had failed to happen, she was quite agog for a moment. Shaking her head sharply, she turned to the elven warrior. "Well met, good sir," she said simply. "I am Ravenwind of the Hand of Torm. This noble ranger is Raeython. . . " and she ran down the list of introductions, "and yes, this was the location of the Rusty Sword. And soon will be again, if the gods smile on us," she added firmly, clapping Che on the shoulder.

"If I many ask, who are you?" she ended, sinking into a crouch by Raeython, unwilling to leave her troubled friend's side. "You have an air of one who has traveled much."

Pyth Dranook
"Aye, m'lady, your words have more truth about them then you may have surmised. I am Pyth Dranook, and for the better part of the last 148 years, have been a humble servant of the Gods of the Light. It appears that the hand of Lady Fate has drawn me here on this most peculiar of days."

"I would hope to wager that this was indeed a most peculiar of days? I should hate to know that this is considered a common occurrence around here. If I may be so forthright, how did all of this come to pass? I was under the simple impression that Demons did not take a particular interest in, with all due respect,” a polite nod to Che, "roadside inns."

"But explanations can wait. There are more pressing matters currently. If you will excuse me, m'lady."

Daragor
Landing on his side his breath left him momentarily. Sitting up her quickly checked over his young charge. She's gravely wounded but we'll should be able to get her patched up. He arose and walked around to the front where all had gathered. Spotting Che huddling up his brood like a mother hen her carried the young girl to him. Placing he gently into his arms he said "She’s banged up pretty good, old friend, but if she's anything like her papa she'll pull through just fine.” 

What seemed to be a tear (But when told later it would be that he had something in his eye) welled up in Che's eyes as he took the still form of his daughter from Daragor. "Bless ye, old friend. I wouldna been sa lucky if ye hadn't helped me arse outa that ringer.”

"I'm glad I got that message from you when I did. Who are those two standing over there? They seem so be at the center of what's happen here. I'd like ask them if this be the end of it or no,” Daragor asked Che.

Che replied, "The woman there, well she be...better yet, go over and introduce yerself. They'll be glad to meet you. And before you give me that look, no, I haven't told them anything about you. They wouldn't have believed me anyway.”

Daragor walks towards Ravenwind and Raeython. They see a very large man dressed in black from head to toe. He has on a hooded cape pulled over his head and a scarf covering his face accept for his eyes (which are strikingly white). They know they saw him wielding a silver sword, but it doesn't appear to be on him at the moment. Approaching them with palms extended upward he calls to them as he get closer.

"Ho, there. If I may have a moment. I am Daragor, friend of Che. I mean no harm or disrespect, but I have to ask:  What the nine hells in going on here, and is it over? I'm really hungry and tired. I could use some attention to these wounds and I'm beginning to get cranky. Could I trouble you for your names first"?

Che
Che heard the warming music of Brynne calmed the dwarf momentarily. His friend Daragor, after rescuing Agatha, lay her body beside her father. Che comforted the girl, and delegated Slash to apply some healing herbs. The dwarf then walked away from the amassed crowd to be with his thoughts.

Che sat alone in a nearby meadow watching the billowing smoke rise into the air from where his beloved tavern used to be. Many memories filled his mind of the wonderful times that occurred under the grand rafters of the structure. The most memorable being the marriage of his daughter Muriel in front of all of his friends. A very proud day for the now saddened dwarf. Even as he tried to make sense of all that had happened this day, he couldn't. Was Moradin mad at him for not always following true dwarven customs? Had helping Ravenwind and the rod of Loviathar somehow cast a curse upon him? Should he have spent more time with Raeython and developed a greater friendship, so that the massive tree could have been planted elsewhere?

These were but a few of the many questions that ran through the mind of Che. The dwarf sat quietly, and drooped his head down to his knees. He began to sob. And cry in a most undignified manner. He was ashamed and alone and beaten through the long years of struggle, with nothing to show for it. The tavern was to be his legacy. 

Che raised his head to look at the devastation again. Blinking many times he cleared the tears from his eyes in order to clear his vision. But all the he could see, was the tree. That tree was the largest thing around for miles. Even over the western hills people could see the top of the tree before their eyes met the township. "That damn tree . . .." the dwarf cursed to himself.

But then Che's face grew constrained with thought. "Maybe's me's not lookin' at this rights like . . . " the dwarf again thought out loud, "Maybe's ‘tis be a sign fer me to follers." Che then hurriedly grabbed a piece of parchment from out of his pack. On it he began scribbling a drawing. Attention to detail wasn't paramount at this point but size relations were. Content for the moment that he was right, he gathered himself and returned to the others.

"Hack, Hack, me boy! Comes 'ere!" Che commanded.

Everyone looked at Che with mild amazement that he seemed in such a positive spirit after what had happened. Hack ran to his father-in-law's side. "What is it, ah . . . Dad?"

Handing the drawing to Hack, "Well, me boy cans it be done?"

Hack looked at the sketches and analyzed the numbers that Che had written. A couple of times, the orc had to close his eyes to reaffirm Che's calculations. Then a broad grin graced the orc's face. "Yes, Che. It can very well be done. Quite easily in fact."

Che gave a loud hoorah for all to hear. Ravenwind calmly walked to her dwarven friend to offer condolences, but was taken aback by the hearty cheer. "Che, my good friend, what it is?"

Che gazed into Ravenwind's eyes momentarily revealing a sparkle she had not seen before. "Looks, deary," the dwarf pointed to the demolished tavern. "That's used to be me tavern . . . and that's a big tree." 

Ravenwind slowly nodded in agreement, hesitating to say anything as she wondered if her friend were going mad. "Don'ts looks at me's like that. Don'ts you sees it? Bah, ‘tis be a sign, all of the 'appenings today. A sign to me that me's 'ave to build a BIGGER tavern. A BIGGER RUSTY SWORD! And that a tree wills be the beacon fer alls to follows."

Che stood again a proud dwarf, ready to take on his next challenge. The rebuilding of the Rusty Sword into a massive tavern. 

VigaHrolf
After depositing the scared little dwarf with her otehr siblings, VigaHrolf wipped clean his weapons and rehung them on his belt. He saw the gathering crowd by the large tree, and called to Torulf. Torulf came from around behind the ruins, his coat coated with soot. "Glad to see you got out of that inferno old boy. Good to see you."

He strode towards the crowd gathering around the dwarf. "Well, this is certainly interesting . . .what a crowd, and demons, too.

As he joined the group by the dwarf he looked at the soot covered crowd.  "Greetings. Although we have fought together, we have not exchanged names. I am called VigaHrolf, warrior and adventurer. It was good to cross weapons with evil by your sides. This great beast with me is called Torulf."

"So is everyone alright? And what do we do now? I was hoping for a nice quiet drink, something that seems a little unlikely now. And, if you don't mind explaining, what in Wodan's beard was going on?"

With that VigaHrolf sat down on a broken timber an took a pull from his wineskin.

Ravenwind
Ravenwind nodded gravely to the two warriors who faced her now, the hooded Daragor and the massive Viga. With a faint sigh, she once again ran through the introductions. "Many thanks for your assistance," she concluded.

Sparks from the dying bonfire that was once Che's pride and joy spat up into the evening sky as the sun set. "While the thought of something to drink would not go amiss," she agreed, "the thought of getting so many people to shelter, of healing their wounds, and of washing the stink of demons and of Gehenna out of my hair," (here she shuddered) "is even more so."

"Those of you who wish may take shelter in the guest cells of my Order," she announced, and began to gather up the walking wounded, speaking a few quiet prayers and resting her hands on various wounds as they went. But most of her attention she reserved for three things: the wounded spirit of her dear friend Raeython; the presence of what was clearly, beyond a doubt, a noble elven warrior of a spirit very similar to her own; and reflection on the most probable death of one of her oldest companions. But she could not stop to grieve now; she had too many people under her care. It would have to wait.

Daragor
Seeing he would get no answers this night Daragor pulled his hood further over his head and eased away from the crowd. Thinking to himself Daragor surveys the lot of them "Che has his family to attend to; Ravenwind is worried about her friends. I'll just patrol a little to make sure they're are no stragglers lurking about. I even heard mumblings of a Drow nearby. Wouldn't that be a treat. Slayer hasn't tasted Drow blood in ages . . . .

Che
Che gave a hearty thank you to VigaHrolf and an approving nod to Torulf. Ravenwind was gathering the wounded. The dwarf ordered his daughters and orcs to join her for the comfort that her Order would offer for the night.

As the crowd began to disperse, Ravenwind questioned Che, "Coming, friend?"

"Nay, goes on and takes care o' the tired, wounded, and hungry. Me's an' a Hack 'ave some planning to does this night."

Assured that Che was well within his faculties, she left.

ArchMage
Looking at the girl and the bard she was sitting with, Alex said, "Ah, maybe this isn't the best time to do this. You both appear to have been through a lot. I can assure you I have been through somewhat of an ordeal myself. I know of another, lesser inn in town where we can retire to. If you two do not object, I'll take us there. Then Cilla you can tell me about yourself, and how you came here searching for magical training.” Standing Alex waved his hand, causing the chair to disappear.

Approaching, Che he said, "My dear dwarven friend, I'll be back on the morrow to give you whatever aid I can in the rebuilding of The Rusty Sword." Turning back to the bard and girl he held out his hands and said, "Well, will you come? I'll pay for a room for you two."

kiwidoc
Brynne sketched an elegant bow and smiled at Alex. "Of course I'll come with you and Cilla, but there is no need to pay for me. Especially as we have not yet been formally introduced. I am Brynne."

Brynne continued "I am a wanderer who has grown a bit weary of being homeless, so was looking for a place to settle down for a bit. The problem is I don't want things to be too dull. I'd heard that the Rusty Sword would fit the bill, but I wasn't prepared for it to be quite so interesting."

Aivanther
Muttering to himself about the stupidity of certain goddesses, Aivanther slips out into the night. He had to make a call on a priest friend of his to heal him, then he needed a good night sleep. It had been a long, and unfortunately not very profitable adventure. But who knows what would happen the next day. Now if only he could find some priests of Loviathar, he felt like a little pay-back. "Oh well," the elf muttered, as he ran along the roof tops, "I can find out about those later."

ArchMage Alexander
"I am sorry, I was under the impression that you were some relation of Cilla's from the way she clung to you. But I see that you are not. Oh well, it matters little, come let us go. Oh, how silly of me, I am Alexander, though I suppose there you heard Faust say that. Anyway, there is much for you to tell me Cilla, first of all I'd like to hear exactly how you came here." So saying, Alex took the girl by the hand and held out his arm, which Brynne took, and he walked towards the Merry Tune. Faust simply shook his head at his mage's behavior and said, "If you don't shut up, the girl won't be able to tell you about herself."

VigaHrolf
"Che, I'm sorry about your inn. It is a terrible tragedy, but this great tree intrigues me. I'll come back tomorrow and help as it has been a long time since I helped build something."

VigaHrolf grimaces beneath his beard. With one more pull of his wineskin, he stands up and grabs some broken timbers. 

"I'll find a nice clearing and see you tomorrow. It is not a night that I feel willing to abed in. Come Torulf, we will have some more smoked ham."

With that, VigaHrolf wearily tromped off in search of a nice clearing to clear his head, talk to his gods, and sleep.

Figaro
He dusts himself off again and looks around.  “Well, this definitely appears to be the right plane. Inns, destruction, fires.”  

He stares upwards, slightly stunned.  “Okay, this is new. You know I would be happy to help rebuild, Che, if you promise to help protect this . . . tree. I could, for example, point out that, as long as the tree is healthy, you could build up. Built in stability and no lease needed for the land. Oh, right.”

He looks around quickly then heads upstairs to help heal anyone still hurt.

Vintar
Swordmage slapped Wizzix's face a few times. The gnome opened one eye. The berserker mage grinned; “How's it going?”  

“Just . . . peachy.”  Wizzix coughed, a small ring of smoke escaping from his lips and twirling into the air. “It's too early to get up yet; goodnight.” He closed his eye again and rolled up into a ball. Swordmage shook his head, slung the gnome over his shoulder and followed the others towards the inn.