CHAPTER SEVEN: The ABYSS
Ravenwind
Now that the blazing light overhead provided them some illumination, the companions could see their surroundings clearly; too clearly. The sharp edges to everything hurt their eyes. Twisted spires of black stone reached up from a dark earth into a roiling, smoky atmosphere. Decayed-looking fungal growths dotted some of the outcroppings, but not many, and even this plant life looked oily. The air was painful to breathe, and smelled like the swamp they had left.

In the distance, to their left, behind a leering spire of rock, they could hear movement in the dark. "Do you feel anything from the ring?" the Muse asked Raeython.

The ranger nodded, and pointed towards the source of the sound. "Of course," someone muttered. It sounded suspiciously like Aivanther's voice.

“At last, perhaps an audience that will appreciate my Juggling Balls of Death!" Bob declaimed excitedly.

"Knock 'em dead, by all means," Ravenwind said, checking the edge of her sword as they moved away from the gate area.

pure_ultima
Ultima looked around and took a sharp breath. He whipped out his sword and held it before him, there was a great creaking by his feet and he looked down at the gaping mouth of the Luggage, for a moment he thought it was going to permanently attach itself to him. Instead it turned around and snapped its lid in a meaningfully way at the flitting shadows. It appears like he has found a new companion!!!

Ravenwind
Ravenwind stared at the Luggage, with its hundreds of tiny legs, and gaping maw. "Sentient pearwood," she remarked, impressed. "I always wondered where it was grown; that it comes from the Abyss is somehow . . . not surprising."

BraveSirRobin
"Hey, were did you get that sentient pearwood luggage? I have been looking for it all over the place. And you can only get it from those stores that appear and disappear." says Bob as he pulls out a metal flask from his pack and takes a swig. Noticing the queer looks he is receiving from the others he adds "Want some, I have more than enough for everyone, especially you my dear," he gestures to Ravenwind with a wink and a sinful look in his eye.

pure_ultima
Ultima accepts the drink from BraveSirRobin. As it spills down his throat he coughs... "What is this stuff?" He hands the stuff back to the joculator.

BraveSirRobin
"Turnip brandy" replies Bob "I got it from an odd little man in Athkatla. I think his name was Jan. Good, isn't it!"

After the flask is passed around the group, Bob recorks it and puts it back into his pouch. He then turns to the leader of the group and says "So, what’s next, oh fearless leader?"

Ravenwind
Ravenwind looked bemused, but accepted a swig from the Jester. "I have heard it said that such items can only be found in great quantities on a distant plane, in a place called the Counterweight Continent," she replied. With a shake of her head, to clear the fumes from the liquor in the flask from her head, she gathered up the companions, and lead them forth. . . 

Falconblade
.........back to where his companions stood. They watched in amazement as the Elite Ranger materialized out of the air itself.  "I have defeated my enemy, and one of the Guardians of the Rod in the process. Here, Muse, take this Robe. It is a Robe of Fire Resistance."

Palladium Muse
Wordlessly, the Muse reaches out and takes the robe, inclining her head and murmuring, "My thanks. And congratulations on your victory. It sounds like it was a long time coming."
                                                    
pure_ultima
The Luggage sat next to Ultima's feet snapping its lid despondently at the flitting shadows. Ultima knew who it felt. Then he noticed something, the shadows seemed to be heading into one spot and joining together...

Ravenwind
Ultima also announced having bested one of the guardians of the rod. The companions exchanged glances. "Thanks to you," Raeython said, "the first level of the challenges are cleared." He gestured with his ring-bearing hand. "It's still leading this direction, however."

Ravenwind grimaced. Doing a quick nose-count. . .hmm, three rangers, one fighter-mage, one mage, one thief, one bard. . . "Lovely," she said. "I think I'm elected to scout ahead." As she expected, Aivanther and all the rangers protested, secure in their traditional rights as advance scouts. "Yes, I know I can't hide very well, and my armor clanks, but how often have you all been to the Abyss before?" she replied irritably. Ringing silence ensued. "Giselle, one of those lovely invisibility and non-detection combinations you whip up would go over well; as much as the Order frowns upon 'sneaking around,' I've never been a fool."

Giselle wriggled her fingers, and Ravenwind vanished from their senses.

Stepping ahead, she found what all the noise and such they had originally heard had been. Here, a major demon slain, arrows still protruding from it like pins in their cushion. There, a young, but mighty dragon, obviously transported to this plane from a Prime Material one, lay slashed apart by a mighty blade. "Impressive," she admitted, and loped ahead, the Flame of Justice in her hand, its flame lighting her way.

Finally, she came to a stinking, sulpherous, yet oddly lime-tinged river, which flowed through an obsidian
cavern. Kneeling beside it, she gagged. "The fabled tequila spring," she thought. "Someone has a nasty sense of humor."

In the canyon's twisting bends, she found an immense door. Four times the height of a man, it blocked what appeared to have once been a natural cave--or as natural a cave as could exist in this dark plane. Gently placing the tips of her fingers on the twisted, rune-inscribed metal of the door, she tried to sense what was past it.

A wave of darkness hit her, and she sat heavily on the ground, trying not to vomit. No minor imps lay behind that door, but tana'ri. Many of them; many more than she had ever heard congregating together. Desire for the rod had brought them together, she guessed, desire for its power.

Swallowing hard, she was startled when Raeython's voice whispered behind her, "Well?"

Jumping out of her skin, for she had not been aware of his presence, she snapped, "What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't let you go in without back up."

Repressing the urge to swear at him, she quickly summarized her impressions. "Gather the others," she finally ended. "I can get us through them, but someone's going to have to get the door open for me."

When the others returned, they could see her. Her face was pale as she pulled her visor into place. She handed Kaltseax, her spell-breaking shortsword, to the Muse. "Here," she said, and her voice was gentle. "I won't be needing this anymore."

She set the shield of Arness on her arm, still covered, and drew the Flame of Justice once more. "Just wanted to let you all know, it's been a privilege."

"You speak as one about to die!" Raeython objected.

"Not yet. Just going to change a little." She gave Bob a pat on the back, as if in apology. And then she uncovered the shield.

A searing white light exploded out from the shield as it was uncovered, like a fireball detonating, and Torm's handmaiden screamed in pain as the shield itself flashed white-hot, searing into her flesh and bonding with the bone of her forearm. Her armor blazed white as well, its prior enchantments torched by the blaze, and replaced with new ones. 
__
Shield of Arness: Artifact.
Any non-good or non-lawful characters must make save vs. polymorph or be flung, unconscious, outside the sphere of protection generated by the shield. Both those inside and outside must make save vs. wands or be rendered unconscious. Any creature of chaotic or evil persuasion that attempts to cross the barrier once established must save vs. wands or be rendered unconscious. Any demonic creatures exposed to the light of the shield will flee in panic; any which attempt to cross the barrier will automatically suffer damage, and more damage for each turn they remain inside the sphere. 

BraveSir Robin
Bob screams "What the F.." and passes out unconscious.

pure_ultima
Ultima sees Bob pass out... In a flash of inspiration Ultima searches the for the little flask of liquer... Finding it in Bob's pack he uncorked it and let the vapors rise up into Bob's nose. "If this doesn't I don't know what will!"

Ultima took a deep breath and drew his sword and shield. He gave his sword an experimental swing, patted his helmet firmly on and tugged at the amulet around his neck to check that it was secure. He had yet to find out what that did...

He stood to one side of the great doors with Raeython opposite ready to swing them open. "Good luck everyone!!!" He said and took a deep breath...

Ravenwind
Raeython was not knocked out of the sphere of light, but he left its protection long enough to help Aivanther and Bob to their feet once more. Giselle was shaking her head as if to clear it, and the Muse appeared uncomfortable. The light coming from Ravenwind's shield, armor, and sword was overwhelming; his  were tearing, and he could hardly face his companion directly. "What has she done?" he muttered to the Muse.

Unexpectedly, Bob came up with the answer. The Jester's knowledge was thorough and precise. "She's carrying the Shield of Arness," he said. "It's only granted once in a generation, and then only to the followers of the Hand of Torm. Every servant of Torm who has carried it into battle has died." The Jester gave them all a crazed grin. "Still, what a way to go! Quite the light show, isn't it?"

Stepping into the protective shield, the jester started up a sprightly tune on his lute. However, such was the warping field of order within the bubble, that the notes became somehow. . . more structured than Bob's usual battle tune. The Muse made a face. "Bach?" she asked. "Bach??" The Jester looked similarly disgusted.

Swallowing hard, Raeython and Ultima stepped forward to lend their strengths to unbarring the massive door. "Wait!" Aivanther snapped. "Do you all want to go charging through whatever's behind that door, or do you want to be a little more sensible?"

The rangers glanced at each other, then opened the door just wide enough for the thief to wriggle through. "Thanks loads, guys," he muttered, gulping a potion and disappearing from all their sight. "I won't forget this." They could see the dust flying up in puffs as his feet paced forward through the door.

After a few minutes, the thief reported back. "It's a Mask-be-damned city of demons," his voice announced out of nothingness. "There have to be eight to ten of the biggest demons I've ever seen perched on terraces throughout the initial cavern. They seem to be arguing about the best way to get their hands on the rod. There's no way a frontal assault is going to get us through there alive; not between them and all their lesser demons, which the place is crawling with."

"What do you propose, then?" They all jumped to hear Ravenwind's voice, usually so warm, suddenly filled with an icy iron chill. She sounded remote, distant, and hardly human anymore.

They all looked around, trying to come up with a plan. . . 

Falconblade
**Seeing the fate of Bob, and knowing his own alignment was far from Lawful, Falconblade resolved to stay way back from Ravenwind.**

**"OK. We need a plan. Well the Rangers, Masters of Stealth and archery might just happen to have one...."  Falconblade mused. 

Then he jumped. " OK, then. I have a magic cloak which allows Invisibility, and Ravenwind has a Magic Demon-killing shield. Muse how about you cast something along the lines of Group Invisibility, and we can be among these Demons before they know what we are doing."

Meanwhile, back at the tavern, things had been getting very interesting in the clan of Che:

Che
As the Drawing Down approaches, Che notices that snow begins to fall outside of the tavern. Che orders the orcs to keep the entrance of the tavern clear so that incoming patrons will not befall an accident. He also orders more wood to be chopped to keep the inner workings of the bar warm.

"And a be quick about it!"

Ravenwind
Then he notices that one of the orcs is missing. Doing a quick count, and verifying the numbers several times on his fingers, Che realizes that one of his daughters is missing, too. . . . in fact, Muriel, daughter of his third wife, the human one, is nowhere to be found.

"Damn the girl!" he muttered. "Just got me wife back, and now me daughter's gone and run off!" 

Searching a bit longer, he found a clue: a note tacked to her door. "Dear Da," it read. "Sorry I am to do this, but the heart speaks and I must listen. Don't blame Hack, and dont pick on his brother, Slash. He didn't know what we intended to do."

Che puzzled over his daughter's odd spelling for a while, and then finally sat down, stunned, in a chair.

Che
Pondering the note, Che wonders if there was more afoot happening within the cellar than the embattlement of orcs and barmaids. The instinctual nature of fatherhood brought momentary horrors of the dwarf forging chastity belts to be donned by each of his daughters. But wisdom gave Che relief within the realization that love, yes true love should not be tampered with. Lest he would lose the favor of a daughter whom he dearly treasures. After all, he himself has many wives, each of whom he loves immensely. "Aye, there be a lot o' Che to go around."

But an orc. This would indeed add an interesting mix to the Clan O' Che.

After many thoughts of reflection, the elder dwarf withdrew a blank piece of parchment from his side. He began to make a list of sorts. The remaining daughters and orcs looked at each other as Che's face contorted with contemplation. Rachel whispered, "I've never seen father so intent, since his studying for the knot tying exam at the Fighter's College."

"There she be!", announced Che. Handing the newly written manuscript to Emerith, the dwarf questioned, "That a should not be no problem, eh?"

"Nay, papa, but are you sure you want...?"

Che interjected with a cold stare.

"But...", replied Emerith.

"Enough! It is written! Now do as me word says!"

The daughters and orcs huddled together perusing the document. After the initial laughter brought about by Che's spelling, seriousness became the flow of the group. Assignments were given. Some reluctantly received.

While the initial stages of Che's plan were forming, he walked away and left through the back door of the kitchen. From the stoop he could see two pairs of footprints in the freshly fallen snow, leading away from the tavern. They were mismatched. Two strides of one were three strides of the other. Simple deduction concluded that these were the prints of Muriel and Hack.

As Che began to follow, Cheran ran out and bellowed, "Father, you forgot your rusty sword."

“Me's not a gonna need it this a time!"

Waving his daughter back, Che continued his tracking.

As Cheran gave her father a slow wave with her hand, a tear began to flow down her cheek.

 Che continued his journey following the trail of footsteps. A sense of apprehension engulfed the dwarf for he was tracking two people that feared him. They did run away from him, unable to face him with their news. Had he driven fear into the ones he loves? Had his famous rusty sword been used one too many times? These and other question entered Che's mind during each step he took.

Finally the prints directed themselves to an entrance to a barn.

Che circled around the structure first to acknowledge that no footprints led away. Again at the entrance, he gave a deep sigh. Grabbing the door he violently swung it open. A loud crash echoed within. Light entered the barn, illuminating the interior, even more with the presence of snow outside. Che took a few steps inward, then paused. This was a structure of sound design and craftsmanship. But obviously underused. No evidence of animals was anywhere. Just mounds of loosely piled straw.

"Muriel, if we can't see Che he can't see us," whisped a voice from the above loft.

"Oh, be quiet Hack, he can hear us though."

"Oops."

Che lowered his head and smiled.

"Me's a be outside, when yers two are ready."

Che exitted, closing the door behind him. He stood with his back to the barn, staring to the sky, letting the coolness of the falling snow refresh him.

Ravenwind
After a few moments, Che heard some scuffling, and his half-dwarven daughter's cleanshaven face peeped out the door at him. "Hello, Da," she quavered a bit, stepping forward, putting herself between him and the door.

Che
Her father's back still presented itself to her. "Father, you aren't mad at us are you?" The elder dwarf began to walk slowly back in the direction of the tavern. Muriel grabbed Hack's hand and began to follow.

"Papa, stop, please stop," she pleaded. "We meant you no sadness. We love each other." Che continued his slow, methodic advance.

Muriel then gave Hack a firm but alarming pinch on his arm. "Say something," she commanded.

"Oh, this is the time you want me to talk," said Hack. The orc continued his slow trailing of Che, all the while trying to think of something proper to say. Che was the one that Hack had followed into battle, into business, and now he didn't know where he was being led. He had always been 'done right' by the dwarf but at times was the recipient of a grand temper. Was Che just cooking on a slow burning fire, with the lid on too tight, getting ready to explode?" Hack had to say his piece before it was too late.

"Che?" The dwarf gave no notice. "Boss?" Again, nothing. "Dad?" Che halted but didn't turn around to acknowledge the orc.

“Well, it is very true that I love Muriel, and she loves me. We've actually been thinking of marriage for some time. But I wished to prepare the best I could for it. Being an orc, you know, it's not easy being green. You remember your past and your own struggles. Well, the land on which that barn stands, I purchased with my savings. And the structure itself, I crafted with my own hands. Please don't deny us our future together.

Che suddenly halted his progress. The repeated clenching of his fists were noticed by Muriel and Hack. Their eyes widened.

Che stood in silence a he remembered the tribulations of his past. Being a sundered dwarf, making a place for himself was difficult at best. Outcast by his own kind Che had to develope new trusts and friendships. As an accomplished fight, it was easy to endear oneself to battle comrades. But when the wars were over, he was once again alone.

Recalling his numerous marriages, Che gained affirmation that his past actions were of dwarven nature. Monogomy for dwarves was certainly for the community of dwarves. But when one's kind loses the existence of a homeland, and is forced to survive in new realms, one must be innovative.  If anything Che was always innovative. He would somehow develope a promising community, using the fortitude as granted by Moradin. Forged with dwarven determination and conscience the initial chaos and mistrust in Che's life, will evolve to calm and resolve. Che would let things fall into place, after all, he has 'done good' thus far.

What was actually a moment of reflection, seemed like a lifetime of thought as Che regained himself. He relaxed his hands relieving his fingernails from further protruding into his palm. The dwarf then reached inside his coat.

"He's reaching for a dagger. We're going to get it now," announced Hack.

"Nay, he's reaching with the sinister hand, and papa draws battle with the right."

Just then four large half-orcs approached the threesome. Muriel and Hack held each other and stepped back. The largest of the visitors was motioned by Che to lower his head.

"Who are they, Hack?" whispered Muriel.

"I recognize two of them, but I can't remember from where."

Che whispered something to his audience and then placed a small pouch within the hand of the half-orc. The recipient returned to his erect stature, towering a good three feet over the dwarf. A motion was made and the four visitors began to trek along the trail from whence Che had just come.

Muriel noticed that one of the half-orcs seemingly glared a scowl in her direction and then increased the horrid look to grand proportions.

"Oh, Hack why does he look at me that way?" questioned Muriel with trembling fear in her voice.

Hack calmly responded, "Funny, that's not an angry or mean look, that's a joyful look. Something's afoot here."

Che giggled, and then an a contradictory stern voice, "The only things afoot here, is me left foot, then right."

Che continued the journey with his two trailers taking up the rear.
Back at The Rusty Sword, organized mayhem rang throughout the tavern. A major clean up on grand proportions was the order of the day. Within hours, the guest rooms lost their patina of dust and odor of mildew, the silver shed its tarnish, and the hidden crystal took on a new sparkle. Yes, a wedding was going to take place.

The daughters of Che, also prepared the ceremonial robes to be worn by all. The traditional charcoal black and molten red garments were daintily adorned with the fancy stones of alexandrite, chrysoberyl, and tourmaline. Presented upon the back was the silver threaded image of a hammer striking an anvil, all surrounded by two golden serpents. The sleeves of each garment were rolled up along the forearm and reinforced with two sinuous armbands of gold.

The orcs dove into their boss's armament chests and polished and cleaned the blades and hilts and staffs of a fine assortment of weaponry, each crafted by the hands of Che. The ceremonial short swords came to a blinding shine, crossbows were well oiled, and the warhammers were struck to anvil to test their true melodic ring. 

Each of Che's wives, both dwarf and human kind, ensured that the proper invitations were sent. Che gave particular direction for the calling of priests for the ceremony. He wished for representation from both dwarven and orcish dieties. An old friend, Marur, was dispatched to oversee the procedings for Moradin and allow witness for the forging of the wedded souls of Muriel and Hack. Marur had been present for each of Che's previous six marriages. Amuud was an orc priest and had once called Che a friend for adopting the six orcs into his clan. Although very liberal minded, Amuud was at times a very devout follower of Gruumsh, the orc high god. Che was gambling upon his friendship with these two priests to allow themselves to dispel the hatred their gods had for one another, and thus be able to stand peacefully by one another at least for a day. 

The great time of assembly was approaching, for soon Che would be returning with Muriel and Hack.

Che
 Che trudged along hoping the half-orcs would complete their task in time. When the tavern came into sight the dwarf stopped and turned to his audience. Muriel and Hack noticed an impish grin across Che's face, one of which was not seen by either of them for some time. Muriel, the impatient one, finally confronted her father upon his intentions, "Papa, I don't know what you're doing or why, but we're not returning to do our duties in the bar. Hack and I only wish to be married and of course have your blessing. Isn't that right, Hack?"

"Oh, I don't mind doing a little work if the boss needs me to." Hack's arm again received a piercing surprise from the fingers of Muriel. "Yes my love you're right. Boss, we only wish to acquire your blessing for our lives to begin on a proper path."

Che interrupted with a sharp intonation, "Nay will ye be callin' me boss anymore."

"What? Am I fired? Will you not be needing my services anymore? Shall I call you Che, then?" The
dwarf calmly replied, "Nay, me's not need yer services, but me daughter will. And a fer today ye will be addressin' me as Thi."

Muriel and Hack looked at each other as if to find some answer to the different nature Che was displaying. "Father, Thi is your original dwarf name, something that you told us never to repeat once you took the name of Che."

"Thi will be a the name that a all will call me's by today, fer it isn't everyday me's gets to gives away me daughter in marriage."

"Oh, father, you mean..?" Just then Che's other daughters ran from the tavern giggling and laughing. Surrounding Muriel they began to tug at her arm, leading her back inside. Cheron explained, "Oh Muriel, it is so beautiful what father has arranged for you. The invitations are sent, the tavern looks like a palace fit for royalty, and your dress just needs a fitting from you."

Running back with her sisters, Muriel turned back towards her father, "Oh papa, thank you, I love you. Come, Hack you must get ready too." Hack began to walk in the direction of the bar, when Che's massive palm planted itself across the orc's chest. "Hack will a be in shortly. Me's a gotta 'ave a wee talk 'ith the lad first."

Hack swallowed hard and awaited Che's oration.

Hack stood silent but with no fear. Che was a leader, a friend, and teacher to him, and today will become a father. Anything that he wished to say would be received with the utmost respect. "Yers truly do loves me daughter, eh?" Hack eyed Che and stared a firm nod. "Me's does believes ye intentions are 'onourable. Yers got good teachin's. But yers do knows that me's kinda comes along 'ith the package o' me daughter? After all, ye will a become a part o' the clan o' Che."

"Well Thi, I have always tried to follow your teachings the best I could. And I would be proud to enter into the clan, and would represent it well. But don't you think that my greenish-grey pigment would be a fine addition to the clan's mosaic?"

"Aye, that it would young Hack, that it would. But before we's a get ahead o' ourselves, yers got a decision about who will speak fer ye in the ceremony. Yers knows quite well that orc-dwarf marriages are quite uncommon. Me''s arranged fer the proper priests, and me's will speak fer Muriel as is dwarf tradition, but by orc tradition you'll a need a someone to stand a by yer, someone not a relation."

Hack pondered who else besides his brothers was close enough to him. "Well then Thi, I can only think of one person that I've known longer around here. One of our patrons who was here from the beginning of the opening of The Rusty Sword. I'll call upon young Dravin to stand by me."

"Aye a fine choice. With a few pieces o' rope tied from the rafters to 'is wrists and legs, and yer brothers reining 'im, I'm sure we's a could get the wizard dancin' jigs upon the tables."

With his right arm, Che laughingly embraced the shoulder of his future son, and the two led each other towards the tavern.

The future in-laws entered the tavern from the kitchen, where a vast assortment of cakes, tarts, and finger sandwiches were being prepared. Che picked up a wooden spoon and cradled an ample portion of soup being prepared by one of his wives. "Tis be too salty fer me blood to take." The spoon was quickly grabbed by the chef and whipped across the knuckles of Che. "This be not for you old dwarf, but for the guests."

Che quickly lifted his hand to his mouth in an attempt to relieve the pain of the corporeal infliction. "An' I suppose me's of no importance 'ere then?" 

"Not in the kitchen," replied another wife. "Why don't you take young Hack down to the cellar and make sure that there's going to be enough dwarven mead."

"Ah yes, the cellar. Me's thinks that the cellar needs checkin'."

"And no nipping into the tequila!"

"But the pain o' me 'and 'ere is a somethin' awful." The wife, tired of Che's impertinence, flung the wooden spoon across the kitchen, striking Che directly on his ear. Turning to head downstairs Che grumbled to Hack, "Me's never should 'ave teached her 'ow to throw an axe."

Aivanther
*A note appears on a counter*

Che, I am delighted to hear of the upcoming marriage of your daughter and your employee. May I be
 the first to congratulate you.

I would also like to present the bride and groom with gifts. I have commissioned two daggers, one for the bride, and one for the groom. These two daggers are enchanted so that they get warmer as they get closer together, that way they can always find a defend one another. They should be done by the time the wedding begins. 

Aivanther, the Shadow of Death

Che
Che humbly nods in appreciation over Aivanther’s note, but could not figure out how it had appeared here, when he knew that Aivanther was off in the Abyss with the others.

Back in the Abyss, the adventurers still had a fight on their hands:

Ravenwind
Taking Falconblade's excellent advice, Giselle wriggled her fingers, and the group vanished from sight as thoroughly as Aivanther had before. "I can still see the light of the shield!" Ultima whispered.

Giselle shrugged. "Can't seem to do anything about that." The various rangers spread out, taking up flanking positions, and they entered into the demon city.

Minor imps, sensing something inimical to them approaching, fled without question. Glabrezu and others, higher on the foodchain, were hardier, and stood their ground as the invisible group approached. One squawked in pain as the outer edge of the sphere grazed it, and appeared utterly bewildered that empty air had harmed it. It proceeded to trail along behing them, using the gods-only-knew what sort of perception to sense their passing.

Ravenwind's eyes were burning now, and those standing closest to her were started to hear her sword actually whimpering, like a puppy, as though it were begging her for a demon's heart as a treat. From the rigid set of her shoulders, fighting against the imperatives of the sword and the shield was not easy. The others wisely left her alone.

Above them, eight tremendous tana'ri argued amongst themselves. "We've already tried forcing the glabrezu through the first shield, to no effect," one rumbled, fanning out his thirty-foot wings. "It may take a human or some other vermin to activate."

Sweating, the companions exited the great hall, and Raeython guided them through a narrow doorway. Beyond that lay a corridor, seemingly naturally formed. A shimmering barricade of red flame barred their path. There were faces in the flames, twisted and distorted, and all of the faces seemed to be screaming. "Behold," Ravenwind said, and her voice echoed hollowly, not sounding particularly human. "The first challenge, the challenge of fire. Who will face it?"

Palladium Muse
Muse steps forward. 

“I will."

Walking up to the shield, she spread her hands and inclined her head, eyes closed, and looked for all the world to be communing with it.

She stands long enough for everyone to start to get antsy, with the demons at their back and the shield at their front, there was nowhere to run should they be truly detected.

Abruptly, she breaks off, shaking and pale. "As you may have surmised, the faces and screams are of those lost to the soulfire. It reads those who come through, wanting to know it's intentions towards the rod. If there is any avarice at all in your soul, you are consumed and used to strengthen the shield."

"Should I get through, I can pull you through one by one without harm. But no one has managed it, as everyone who comes wants the rod for something. I want it destroyed. I have to cleanse myself from any desire for the rod at all, or I too will go to the soulfire. I know time is precious, but I must meditate..."

Settling to the ground, she closes her eyes, and begins to hum tunelessly.

After a bit, she opens her eyes and stands, squaring her shoulders and confronting the soulfire.

Her face goes completely blank, and she marches squarely into the shield.

And into a maelstrom of insanity. Voices swirl around her, driving into her skull like thousands of barbs. She feels as if something is passing through her, forcibly, ripping away the very essence of her being from the physical anchor of her body to throw it to the storm around her.

The rod a voice, clearer than the rest, seductively sweet but with a raw edge of uncalcuable power, You should take the rod. With it, you could return to your world and stabilize it. It would no longer be at the mercy of the magical elements that tear it apart and invite denizens of the megaverse to populate and conquer it. You could rule the very gods, and have them reshape your world, make it livable again, make it safe again, peace could reign...

It whispers on, she raises her hands to her head to block it, but she finds she doesn't even know where her body is,  much less how to control it. 

Then the visions start, her weilding the rod, and the earth she knows blooming because of it. As she watches, she becomes a benevolent leader of all people, smiting the evil from the land and creating a utopia for peaceful beings...a haven in the chaos that was the megaverse. All she has to do is admit she wants the rod, and that will be granted...

Distantly, another voice calls to her, one from the past, one that she knows so well.

And also knows it is gone, and does not belong. Her mind frantically latches onto it, and it gives her the strength to ignore the other voice, the one that promises so many things she wants...the restoral of a world, the restoration of a love...

But she knows it isn't possible, and the voice from the past cocoons her in that knowledge. She finds herself wrapped in her body once more, solid ground beneath her feet, surrounded by the burning red mist, and the contortions of madness.

With a burst of strength, she forces her way through it, and finds herself on the other side, on hands and knees, gasping for breath. It had been close, too close, and her mind and soul shiver at the nearness of it. She would have surely been lost to the soulfire if it hadn't been for...

Raising her tear-streaked face to the black sky, she whispers, "Thank you, ariansalu, beloved."

Falconblade
**Falconblade heard that voice again at the back of his head - "Falconblade, thou shalt take the second test, the test of Wind."

Looking around the room, he heard that the others had also heard. More than a little aprehensively, Falconblade stepped up to the shield. Unlike he had feared, he was not flung away, but drwan closer into the shield. He felt calm, peaceful, and when he opened his eyes he could see that he was back in his beloved Deepwood. His Ranger blood called out for the trees, and he felt the trees responding.  Suddenly, a sound occurred. He saw ahead of him a gigantic hurricane, unlike any he had seen before. It tore up trees by its roots, and Falconblade screamed with the trees. He started to embrace the power of the trees, and invoke one of the Five Forbidden Spells - Weather Control, and was on the last syllable, when he -

- stopped.

Heartbeat....

The storm had stopped.

He heard the voice in his head once more.

"Falconblade, by showing self control you have demonstrated that you are worthy. You have passed the test of Wind."

Falconblade stepped back out of the Shield, and looked at the others, and said:

"I have passed".

They understood.**

Ravenwind
Palladium pulled them, one by one, through the red curtain of flame, its long fingers catching at each of them in turn as if to trap them within its burning heart. Much shaken, the companions stood on the other side, staring at each other. The only one seemingly unaffected was Ravenwind, but her coldly-set face made them all shy away from asking her any questions.

"Behold," she said, and again, her voice was not her own. "The next challenge, the trial of conviction."

Through a narrow doorway, they all could see--shockingly--sunlight, and could hear wind rushing among tree branches. White flowers blossomed along the branches they could see, and in the distance, they could hear human voices, all calling to each other.

"I shall go," Ultima said, leaping into the portal, with the other rangers on his heels.

Once inside, the rangers shivered. It was like their own world, but not like it. People stood about in an orchard, some holding crates and crates of orange fruit. Others stood between them and the trees they tended, shouting.

"What's the trouble here?" Ultima asked.

"This orchard is an abomination!" one person cried. "It's evil; it was not meant to be here, and it's sucking the life out of the natural world around it!"

"This orchard is our livelihood," one of the workers implored Ultima. "They're trying to burn the trees down. You must stop them!"

The ranger stared at each of them, befuddled. What should he do?

Raeython
 *Raeython speaks out*

"I think this trial is for me."

*Raeython approaches the grove, and at first glance all appears well. Appearances, however, can be very deceptive. Raeython sits cross-legged in front of the grove. He then uses that part of himself which is life, and reaches out to the grove. He can feel the pure life that is the trees, and revels in it. He feels their roots winding deep into the soil, and drawing nurishment from the very earth. All here is good, and in balance

Faintly, as if from a vast distance, Raeython feels a discordant entity. Starting off just at the very edge of his 'special' awareness, but potent in its own veracity. He can 'feel' it weaving a subtle web of corruption through the trees. It's like a twisted black vein of depravity feeding off the life of the trees, and the surrounding landscape. He can feel the very life essence of the trees fighting a losing battle against this vile decadence, and he can 'see' the evil slowly growing stronger.

Raeython knows what he has to do. He pulls out his unicorn pendand and holds it in his hand. He then reaches out his very essence, and calls to the trees in the grove. Though not alive in the sense that people or animals are alive, the grove pulses with life. Raeython's essence reaches out to this life, and joins with it. He can feel the wind as it rustles its way through the canopy of leaves and branches. He can feel the earth as nutrients are drawn in from the very soil. He can feel the evil insidiously working its way to the heart of the land. Raeython joins his will to the essence of the trees and pushes against the evil force. Immediately, he is met with resistance. The force is almost alive in its desire to strangle the life out of the grove, and the surrounding land. Raeython gathers his strength and reaches out the the essence with a wave of pure life. The evil almost shrieks with protest, as Raeython diverts more and more of his life into destroying this evil. He can feel his body weakening, feel his very life flowing out of his body, and against this being. He can feel the evil weakening, but his last remaining strenght is fading as well. With a final defiant cry of "Mielikki!" Raeython gives all that he has left, and with a wretching primal scream, the evil is no more.

Palladium Muse
Muse approaches, seeing Raeython slump where he kneels, and places a hand on her shoulder. Composed once more, she helps him to his feet, and a silent look of understanding passes between them. These challenges are more than a matter of muscle or cunning, they scrape into the very soul.

They turned to the group, and the shared understanding passed to everyone, a tinge of fear coloring their thoughts at the thought of the next challenge.

As if the thought were all that was needed, a great yellow wall springs up before them, looking like mist with the sun shining through it. Before anyone can take pleasure in the ephemeral beauty, they are chilled by the sounds issuing through it.

The sounds of a bloody battle, raging high. The sounds of men dying, men being rent limb from limb. Metallic weaponry clashing, the boom of ballista.

The scent of sweat and blood washes over them, coppery sweet and powerfully dank, heightened with the tang of steel and stone, mud and earth.

Ravenwind
Ravenwind stepped forward, her face somber. “This is one of my tasks, my friends.” Holding her shimmering shield, and her blazing sword, she stepped into the curtain of yellow, the light radiating out from her vanishing into the murky mists.

 “Whew!” Bob said, wiping at his eyes. “What a relief!”

Inside the curtain, Ravenwind saw a battlefield, littered with the corpses of the dead, and with the bodies of the injured. With compassion, she knelt beside one of the dying, and touched his bloodied face. He looked up at her, and his eyes widened. “Mother of the stars,” he whispered, and died. But in death, he smiled, peacefully. Others on the field were not so lucky, screaming and gurgling in their death throes.

Most often, she heard one name cursed above all others as she paced the field, blood never seeming to touch her shining garments, mud never touching the heels of her boots. “To the Abyss with Armenor!” one woman screamed, holding her dying husband in her arms. “May he rot in the hells forever for what he’s done.”

A gentle force seemed to propel her along, until she reached a small, evidently hastily erected hut on the edge of the battlefield. Here, the blood no longer soaked into the earth, forming that hideous ooze. She stepped through the door, not seeming to notice its presence blocking her path.

Inside, a man lay on a cot, evidently trying to sleep. But his restless shifting betrayed him. “Armenor?” Ravenwind asked, her usual voice overlain with the strange new one that had been there since she took up the shield.

He bolted upright. “Who, who are you?” he demanded, lunging for a knife. She slapped the blade out of his hand with her sword. “I am Justice,” she said, her tone coldly neutral. “Why are you here? Are you number among those soldiers outside.”

 “Yes,” he whispered. His face was haunted.
“Are you the cause of this conflict?”
He shook his head. “No. The other side has a wizard who desires greater power, and has opened a gate to another plane. We have been fighting his forces for months, and he must have exhausted his reserves of human soldiers. He just yesterday unleashed demons upon us. We had hoped to be able to take his castle by siege, and seal the rift, but. . . .”

 “How would you seal the rift?”
He twitched. “It would require the one of his own blood-kin to use the device.” He gestured to a black rod on a nearby table. “I am his only living son.”

“Then why do you not go forth and enter his castle on your own?”
 “I fear it will cost me my life. . . “

Ravenwind was sweating now. Her face filled with human compassion and understanding, she sheathed her sword and laid a hand on his despondent shoulder. But when she spoke, it was not in her own voice. “Hear me, for I am Judgment. I am Duty. I am Order. You must make a choice now, your own life, or the lives of countless others. You have already sacrificed thousands to your own fear; how many more must die before you summon your courage and do what you know is right?”

 “How can you possibly understand?” he spat back, his voice venomous.

Ravenwind laughed, and it was her own rueful chuckle. “Oh, I know; only too well do I know your burden.” She placed her fingertips on his forehead, and he stiffened, as if he saw something of the weight upon her. Pale, he looked at her. “Go,” she said. “or you will not be able to live with yourself. Besides,” she added softly, “there is always the hope that things might not turn out so bleak as you think they might.”

He left, and she sat down upon the bed. Her face was traced with human tears, but shimmering light lit each one. “Ah, cruel,” she whispered. “Cruel, and cruel again.”

And the barricade of yellow light fell.

Palladium Muse
 A few moments later, a green light rises from the ground to form a shimmering wall. Symbols float through it, symbols Ultima recognizes all too well.

From within it, Ultima hears the sound of mocking laughter.

"I believe this one is mine," he tells everyone, and steps through.

On the other side a temple takes shape, with light coming from glowing green braziers. A throne of thorns, on the throne, is a well known figure.

"Malus," Ultima spits.

"You are correct, my unworthy foe. I have been given leave to appear in this realm to assure that you fail. And not merely fail, but die, as well, and come into my hands. It has not been nearly so entertaining as when you were like me, but having you within my sphere for eternity pleases me. I have what you want, Ultima. I have what you desire most. Strike at me in any way, and your reascendance will never be. 

"Be it known, however, I can return what it is you lost. What I yet have.

"I can return your deism."

pure_ultima
Ultima's rage of the years boiled up inside him. In a fit of anger he drew his sword and yelled,  "YOU!!! It is because of you! You schemed and connived behind my back. It was because of you that I decended!!! The last thing you will see is my sword before I cleave your head in two!"  Ultima took a few menacing steps towards Malus, the Dark God. 

Malus stood up from his throne of ebony thorns.  "Ah! Now you won't want to do this do you! THINK! Where is your godly wisdom now?" 

Malus held his hand forward and a red orb emerged growing every second. It left his hand and flew forward hitting Ultima squarely in the chest, with a brilliant flash of red Ultima was thrown back into a pillar, smashing it to pieces. Ultima saw his whole existance pass before his eyes. His descent, his life as a human. In the darkness that followed, a voice spoke to him. "Ultima, you must realise what he is doing. He has succumbed to a mere plaything of the rod. The rod is trying to trick you into killing him, so that you will be trapped inside it for all eternity, used as a power source to be freely tapped. The sword is the key but it must draw no blood."

Another voice, mockingly broke through. "Get up and entertain me before I grow tired of you. Remember I hold the key to your ascension." 

Ultima groggily stood up. He picked up his sword from the floor and raised it. "Ah, I see that has calmed you down" says the deity before him.

"No, It has given me the fuel I needed to kill you." Stepping forward he raised the sword in front of his face and drew his hand down the flat of the blade. As it went a light surronded it. He pointed it at the Dark God before him. A bolt of energy, unlike any energy known shot foward and hit him. It lifted Malus's limp body into the air and coiled itself around him. With a flash of light, Malus screamed and was dropped to the floor, a red mist rose up and took form.

"Ha! You have merely weakend me! A human may not destroy a deity, till we meet again Ultima!" the mist dispersed.

Ultima had not won his ascension, not yet. However he had overcome one of his challenges and was now more determined than ever to destroy Malus and gain his freedom.

Falconblade
**While Ultima was battling the Dark God Malus, Falconblade's Ranger senses picked up something wrong. Suddenly
Five ogres and about fifty assorted undead came boiling out of the two portals which had been opened.

"This might not be good..." said Falconblade as he drew his trusty Bow of the Falcon. "I might need help..." He drew an arrow quickly and fired. Three Skeletons fell, but the rest kept on running.**

Ravenwind
Ravenwind turned, hearing Falconblade's cries for help. Oddly, she didn't see skeletons or ogres. "It's an illusion!" said, her voice utterly calm. "Giselle, please dispel it."

The mage raised her hands and spoke a rippling series of syllables. The air seemed charged for a moment, and then, something somewhere ripped

It wasn't an army of undead that pursued them. It was an army of demons, driven by tana'ri, doubtless having sensed the walls of spells being breached.

Ravenwind, still with that unearthly calm, raised her shield. Bob and Falconblade ducked as a beam of pure white light emerged from it, blazing into the demon ranks. Imps exploded as soon as the light touched them, and others, more powerful, cringed in pain.

"The next test is the test of loyalty," she told them, drawing her sword and advancing on the demon host without fear showing on her face. "Go! I will hold them as best I can!"

The rangers steadfastly refused, and clothyard shafts began whizzing from behind her, sinking deeply into the bodies of the demon host. Aivanther ducked into the shadows and raced among the demons, merrily slicing open throats as he went. Bob struck a chord from his lute, and the demons began to look confused. Some even fell on each other in snarling abandon.

Soon, all that remained of the demon host were the three tana'ri that had driven their minions to attack them, and a handful of their most powerful lietenants. The tana'ri and the adventurers stared at one another across the carnage on the cavern floor. . . .

Ravenwind
"Someone get through the next gate!" Palladium Muse shouted. "The blue mist--the test of loyalty--" Her voice cut off as the remaining demons charged.

The rangers' bows twanged, but still they drew closer. The Muse and Giselle cast pyrotechnic spell after spell, and still they drew closer. Ravenwind cast the light of her shield upon them--a few demons fell, wounded--and still they drew closer.

"Swords out, lads!" Raeython shouted, and the barrage or arrows halted. The rangers drew even with Ravenwind.

"Shall we?" she asked, turning to face them. For the first time since taking up the shield, her face and eyes and voice seemed human to them.

Nods exchanged all around. "Let's go!" They charged forward to meet the demon onslaught.

Hard-pressed in the fight, Ravenwind and Raeython fought back to back, as did Ultima and Falconblade. Where one faltered, the other carried forward; where one attacked, the other defended. The burning light of the shield spooked even two of the tana'ri, who hung back. But the third forced his way through the shield, flinching but accepting the pain. "Torm's child, and Mielikki's," it spat. "A feast of souls for us today!"

Its wings spread, and a darkness so absolute came from it, it even dimmed the radiance of Torm's shield. 

"Never!" Raeython and Ravenwind shouted. Stepping forward, Raeython leveled a blow at the fiend with Forest Friend, a blow that should have carved in its side like a knife through a goose.

The blade nicked the demon's hide, but no more. The ranger swore.

Then there was no more time for words. Wings and claws, blades and shield, all melded into a blur of motion, light, and shadows. Even the other demons fell back in their attack to watch. Ravenwind was driven back, apart from the ranger she was sworn to protect.

The demon closed on Raeython, and the ranger stumbled, stunned, forced to his knees. The demon raised its claws for one final blow.

"No!" Ravenwind shouted, threw herself between the tanar'i and its stunned victim. The vicious claws struck her instead, tearing through her shimmering armor as if it were paper, curving through her torso, and protruding from her back. Blood gushed, and Torm's handmaiden screamed in agony. 

The wall of blue mist fell, and the demons screamed in fury as their prey was sucked behind it, out of their reach.

Beyond the wall, there was just enough feeble light for the companions to watch as the Flame of Justice, no longer burning brightly, slipped from her slack fingers, and Shield of Arness fell from Ravenwind's arm, no longer fueled by the driving will or the living spirit of the woman who had held it.

They had passed the test of loyalty, but at a price.

Back at the tavern, the wedding preparations continued apace:

Che
Meanwhile outside of the tavern, many of the guests began arriving and pitched tents for their stay. Many of the local human population were taken aback by the first arrival of a band of kobolds. Their constant chattering amongst themselves led to an amusing display of setting up their camp. Ropes were tied to tarpaulin and centering poles were used to elevate their structures. Unfortunately, they had brought the wrong poles and as one tent was erected, its support would soon snap under the weight. A rush of kobolds from under the fallen canvas led to numerous displays of infighting.

Slash rushed out with a handful of iron bars to assist in the matter. One of the kobolds grabbed the bars and gave an appreciative nod, then scurried over to begin the process again.

When the half elves came, they mostly prepared for the upcoming event by practicing their dance steps. With a couple of woodwinds to aid in their merriment, the elves frolicked about briskly attempting to perform a dwarven jig.

The orcs mostly sat with the half orcs, exchanging recent memories of events in their lives. Some questioned the marriage of an orc with a dwarf/human, but reason soon led to anticipation of the blessed event. The orc priest Amuud assured his listeners that orcish tradition would not go by the wayside of dwarven.

The goblins looked a bit lost in the swells of the arrivals. Anxiety ran throughout their faces as they eyed the other races. But this soon passed when the gnomes and halflings arrived. Together they congregated together exchanging stories on how they know Che.

The dwarven contingent was the last to arrive, led by Marur the priest. Within their camp was a large trunk containing some needed artifacts for the ceremony. Marur sat with his comrades, perusing the texts of dwarven marriages, still a bit unsure on how to include the orcish nature within.

While the camp of guests swelled, onlookers noticed one peculiar oddity for such a sight. With so many races in near proximity to one another, some with a known dislike for the other, not a weapon of harm was to be seen.

Che
Che was full of anticipation of the blessed event. His body was tiring a little due to the hectic actions of preparation. The dwarf went outside and gathered Marur and Amuud by his side to discuss the ceremony. A brief exchange of pleasantries precluded Che's inquiry. "Have yers decided 'ow this dwarf-orc wedding shall a procede."

Amuud anxious to answer, stepped closer to Che's stance, "Ah yes, dear Thi, that dwarf priest and have entered into a lengthy but acceptable agreement. One in which Amuud has made great religious sacrifices to accommodate that one's stubborn nature. The said agreement should appease the religious needs of the great soul of Hack, plus the paternal needs of my friend Thi."

Taken aback by the rude interjection by the orc priest, Marur addressed Che's other ear, "This one is partly accurate Thi. Sacrifices were made, but to an equal extent. It is though a ceremony under the direction of the great Thi, and shall thusly be unveiled with the dwarven nature and customs in tow."

To quickly gather Che's attention, Amuud gently put his hand on the dwarf's forearm, "But one should not forget that the groom is of true orc bloodline, and the strength of that should be courted for all to see."

"A bloodline that still will not outlive the dwarven quality filled within the bride," quipped Marur.

Che, quick to see that his two priests were degenerating themselves to atavistic tendencies,
thought that some diplomacy was needed at this point. "Me's good fellows. Me's friends. Me's not the brightest star in the sky, but with me wee twinkling intellect, me's thought that by a bringin' the two wisest that I know together, yers could a come to a rightful conclusion. Looks around ye. Me's a got a many different races together upon a field today. Not as to do battle, as some there sittin' may like, but to witness a joyous event. They's likes meself, are lookin' at ye fer guidence, compassion, and understanding. Are's yers tellin' me, that an old man has made a mistake to bring yers 'ere? Are yers tellin' me, that the guidence, compassion, and understanding that a each o' ye has taught me in the past, was a mistake? Oh please say it ain't so."

Both priests looked at each other eyeing each others' embarrassment. They both gave Che they're assurances that all will go smoothly, and then rejoined their camps. Left alone, Che drew a great gasp of air and then relaxed with a relieving sigh.

"Whew! Me's hopes the peace a stays. Well, after this me's thinks that the cellar needs checkin' again."

Che
After a quick inspection of the cellar contents, Che arose from beneath into the kitchen. One of his wives drew the dwarf's attention to one side to speak. "Dear husband, all is nearly ready for the commencements to occur. But there has been no word of when or if the great adventurers shall return from their present escapade. ‘Twould be a shame for your friends not to show on such a day of importance for you. Aivanther is the only one that has thus far responded to his intentions."

"Ah, dear wife, me friends are indeed true friends. The fact that they no be here yet, just befalls upon the nature of their great entanglement in their present adventure. But me's will do something to appease yers concern."

The wife smiled with reassuringly. But was left with the question of how Che learned to use the words "befalls" and "entanglement" in the same sentence. Maybe there was something of good in the tequila after all.

Che brought together two of his orcs and two daughters to assist him. Together they took a piece of parchment and divided it into very small pieces. Then on each piece, the name of one of the adventurers was addressed. The content revealed the nature of the wedding, followed by a sincere closing by Che, "And a most of all be a safe on yer adventure, signed Che the Elder."

Che reviewed a checklist of names. Ravenwind, Palladium Muse, Raeython, Falconblade, pure_ultima,
 benard the brave, ArchMage Alexander, Giselle Moonwitch, and others were all personally addressed to the dwarf's satisfaction. "Me's hopes me's not forget anyone."

Each invitation was placed in a small tube, about half the size of a pinky finger. Each tube was then tied to the leg of a pigeon (the orcs were raising pigeons out back for no apparent reason, until now). The pigeons were then released to find their way to the recipient of their message.

"How will the birds know where to go?" asked Slash.

"Me's not truly know. But, the gods be willin', they will find a way." Che gave a quick wave to the pigeons, confident that they will be true to their task, but still grasping on hope that they will perform in time.

"Emerith, draw me's a bath. Me's don't want a be stinkin' up me own tavern."

ArchMage Alexander
*Appears in appears in a puff of smoke*

Finding the bride he says, "Oh beautiful lady, I rejoice over your joyful union with such a fine man.  Here's a gift from myself to you." Pulling from his robe a small kitten, "This is the daughter of my esteemed familiar," Nods towards the cat, who says, "We would be honored if you would take it under your care. It will be a companion to you at all times in your life."

Leaving the kitten with the bride, he finds the groom, "Ah, a fine and joyous day to you. I was going to make you a ring to understand the thoughts of a woman, but that violated a universal impossibility and caused a big accident that I spent several days cleaning up. So instead I got you this," pulls a amulet with a large sapphire on it, "This will let you see the one you love whenever you choose. Now let's check out the rest of this party," leaves checking out the crowd of guests.

Che
Che finished his cleaning and prepared for the ceremony. Sitting at a kitchen chair, two of his wives sat with him, each began braiding the dwarf's beard into two long strands of whiskers. Emerith was putting the final touches upon Che's ceremonial robe. The regal velvet garment was deep in the flowing colours of aquamarine. Tapestry-like fringes of silver flowed along the shoulders down to the cuffs. Along the sides were two massive pouches to be filled with gems to handed out to the guests. Che eyed this piece of clothing and commented to his wives, "Me's a gonna stick out like an ogre in a 'alfling dancefest."

"Now, now, dear husband, being the bride's father you must wear the colors of the hottest flame of the furnace. Besides the blue hues match your eyes, plus the streaks in your beard."

"I'm braiding more grey streaks than blue here," quipped the other wife.

"Yes, I toil with the same here. But the grey just manifests the wisdom of our husband. But tell me, dear Thi, why does a frock worry you such?"

Che attempted to divert himself from answering but quickly and painfully realized the he was locked in place by the artful hands of his wives as they continued to apply their weaving applications to his beard. "No garment a worries me. Me's just got a bit o' the nerves flushin' through me. Maybe me's a should check the cellar a one last time?"

Emerith finished with her father's robe and approached Che. She placed her hand on his head and leaned downward and placed a soft kiss upon his forehead. "Papa, the cellar is fine. Your robe is ready. The gifts are ready to be handed out. The food is ready. Muriel and Hack are waiting upstairs. The priests are ready. Dravin is entangled in a web of ropes, at the mercy of the actions of Hack's brothers in the rafters. All is as it should be. We just await your word to begin."

"There! Your beard be ready also," announced one wife. "You'll be the most handsome of the dwarves here. I'd marry you again in a heartbeat."

"Me too," proclaimed the other.

Che arose from his chair. "Ye all have a takin' a good care o' Che and Thi. But yers a right, no needs to a worry, everythin' is a ready. Well then 'elp me into me frock, and let me begin the festivities."

Ravenwind
A bedraggled-looking pigeon fluttered back in, bearing a message. "Hmm," Che said, squinting as he read. "Looks like our guests are still mostly entrapped in the Abyss, and should be back soon. Something like a few more doors to get through, a few tana'ri to tussle with, and they'll be back on Faerun quicks as they can."

He stopped, staring at the pigeon. Then he turned to regard his orcs. "How in the name of Moradin's hammer did this bird get to the Abyss and back?" he demanded. "What yer been doing to these poor birds?"

Che
Che cradled the pigeon still pondered it's journey. Suddenly a mournful squawk beckoned from the beak of the bird. The messenger had died, and upon its death deposited a disturbing amount of fecal material along the once-pristine blue velvet of Che's arm.

"Wha'! Tis be not good. Emerith clean me garment, me's need another bath!"

Aivanther
A messanger arrives with two daggers and a note for Che it reads,

"Che, these are the daggers I had commisioned, unfortunately I'm rather preoccupied right now so I couldn't present them in person.

(Signed)
Aivanther
Shadow of Death"

Che
Che replaced his ceremonial gown upon himself. "Me's will a 'ave no more to do 'ith those flyin' feathered 'amsters."

"Oh they're just pigeons, papa," responded Emerith, as she tried to calm her father down, "toiling to do the deed of delivering invitations. Don't be so hard on the creatures. In a way you should be thankful that the orcs were raising them behind the tavern."

"By's the way, dearest daughter, why were the orcs raising those birds in the first place? They's by no means a coulda known me need for them."

Slash, overhearing Che's inquiry, gave a response. "Well boss, they were raised for you in a way. We figured that if you were to be away from the tavern for a spell, the pigeons would be able to send a message to you if we needed your assistance."

“Aye, that be a smart thinkin' there Slash. Me's a impressed 'ith yer foresight."

Just then, the four half-orcs that Che had met on the trail back to the tavern entered the bar through the front. The largest of the group lumbered through the doors and bumped into Archmage Alexander, spilling half of his goblet of wine on the floor. Alexander promptly turned around to address the rudeness that had befallen his person. But after seeing that he was fronted by four extremely large creatures, each breathing very hard, he thought better of giving a lesson in manners. "Excuse me, strangers, my fault. May I help you?" questioned the mage.

"Where is Thi?" commanded the leader.

"Ah, who?"

"Che! Where is the dwarf fighter?!"

Alexander calmly pointed in the direction of the kitchen, where the four half orcs immediately
proceeded. The mage briefly wondered about the safety of his host, but then realized that with the conglomeration of so many races in one vicinity, that this shouldn't be out of the ordinary. "Oh, my goblet is half empty. Or is it half full? Anyways, I need more wine."

The ill-mannered foursome entered the kitchen and spotted Che admiring the shimmering flow of his gown. The leader approached and handed something to Che, which he immediately concealed in his pocket. In response, Che pulled out a small pouch and gave it to the leader. The two silently eyed each other for a moment, then the towering leader leaned into Che's face, squinted his eyes and spoke, "You look like a old woman, Thi."

Che stood firm and raised himself on his toes to meet his addresser nose to nose, "And yers got disgustin'ly bad breath. I guess we's a even." The two stood motionless briefly, then burst into laughter and hugged. The other half orcs joined in the gaiety and presented congratulatory embraces to Che.

"Ah me's good friends, thanks fer yer deed. Please enjoy the food and drink in the main room." With that unrefusable gesture, the foursome graciously accepted and joined the forum of guests. "Bah! Me four friends a got dirt and sweat all overs me gown. Emerith, yers know what to a do. Me's need another bath."

Ravenwind
So, all the orcs and many other guests were assembled, and everyone got to telling the story of how Hack, Slash, and the other orcs had come to be in service to Che.

"Well," one of the other orcs began, "Hack wasn't the best fighter, he was always smartest in our troop. He was the Counter."

"Yeah, that's how we knew how many hu-um, how many enemies we'd killed," Slash added, rather wisely, for an orc, changing one of his words in mid-sentence.

"Yep, good old Hack the Counter," another one laughed, slapping Hack on the back.

"And then, when we all started fighting alongside Che, er, Thi, here," Slash continued proudly, beaming at his brother, "He was the Counter for Che, too. Did so well that Che made him a Lieutenant."

"And finally, when we came to go into business together, we'd been a-saying all those names together for so long," Che broke in, wanting the punchline, "that it were only natcheral-like to keep him on as the Hac-oun-tent."

Che wondered why so few of his guests were laughing. Most of the orcs looked puzzled; most of the humans were groaning, and only the dwarves were laughing and slapping their knees in mirth. "It's true, he's me accountant!" Che protested, over even louder groans.

ArchMage Alexander
Alexander finally remedied the solution of his half full (or is it half-empty) glass. Mingling among the crowd he notices a slight disturbance between a group of elves and orcs. Apparently there was a debate over who could brew the best brew. The Elves were hotly contending on Evermeet Wine (which was one of Alexander's favorites) while the Orcs were adamant that Orcish Grog (or Rum, there seemed to be a second debate between Grog and Rum).

Seeing an opportunity to be of service to Che, Alexander pulls aside a waiter and whispers in his ear. Approaching the group he says, "Hail friends, I have to agree you both have very good brews," much to the elves displeasure for they knew of his fondness for Evermeet Wine, "However, I think you've both overlooked the greatest of all!" Gesturing to the approaching waiter with an arm full of bottles he continues, "No brew can be finer than Che's own Tequila!" After a few moments of silence, the group begins to laugh and pass around mugs and bottles.

 Che
 Che dressed himself once again. He beamed with pride as he thought himself as the cleanest dwarf around. Marur and Amuud came to the back to address Che. "All is ready to proceed Thi," said Marur. "We just need your go ahead,” added Amuud.

Che then grasped the belly of his gown. A picture of deathly pain painted across the dwarf's face. "Are you all right Thi?" inquired Marur. "Aye. But me's just got an awful feelin' in me body. Me's a picturin' me adventurer friends, an' a one o' them be close to death. They's a seem to be a trapped in a ghostly maze."

"Empathic connections to dear friends, interesting," commented Amuud.

"Let me a just sit fer a bit, 'til she a passes."

And now, back to the Abyss:

 Palladium Muse
"No!" PM shrieks, racing to her fallen friend. Placing a hand over the wound, she closes her eyes. Giselle draws closer, interested by the strange powerful magics in use.

Unrecognizable words cascade from her lips, sounding almost like an argument. Her voice grows louder, angrier, as a new wall of mist forms in front of them, of a deep indigo blue.

"Go," Raeython tells Avianthar, "I think this one is yours. And I must stay with Ravenwind."

Avianthar nods and steps forward, disappearing into the swirling depths.

He walks several feet, the mist parts, and he sees a tower before him, blackened by fire. The turrets and crenellations are crumbling, and even as he watches, he sees a large chunk of masonry fall from the top, some seventy feet above, to crash to the ground below.

The way before him is clear, there are no demons barring him, no visions of tests or challenges. It is by no means reassuring, but it would appear there are no immediate threats.

He takes another step forward, but before his foot hits he ground all his instincts begin screaming at him, and he freezes. Gazing down, he can see where his foot would have fallen, a rune inscribed beneath the dust, only seen due to his experience and sharp sight.

Drawing his foot back, he crouches and narrows his eyes, staring at the ground all around him. As if this is a cue,  the indigo mist rises again, but in a clear shape, rather than a simple formless barrier. The walls of a maze take shape before him, with only one possible path to begin.

****

The others, some staring after the no longer visible Avianthar, some watching Palladium Muse argue with some unseen entitiy, nervously check weapons and their spell arsenals, mentally going through their reserves.

PM's voice rises yet again, until it fills the very air around them, thrumming deep beneath their heels.

The wounds don't close, but they do stop bleeding, her chest freezes in mid-breath.

"What did you do?" Raeython demands, approaching PM but knowing better than to touch her in the midst of such an obviously powerful spell.

More strident words, and an amorphous shape raises from Ravenwind's body. It is in fact the paladin.

Muse sits back on her heels with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"No, she's not dead. I've enabled her to travel as the ethereals do, and put her body into stasis. Mayhap we can get her to a temple of Torm and beseech him to spare her life before the spell ends."

Standing, she opens a pouch and shakes out a portable hole. With the help of the others, they carefully place Ravenwind's body inside it, and she folds it back up, gingerly tucking it away once more.

"Ravenwind, can you hear me?" she finally asks, planting herself in front of the ghostly shape. 

A nod as an answer, the wraith-like image attempts to speak, but no sounds comes forth.

"Alas, I cannot grant you the ability to speak. You will be completely silent, but you can still help us. If you concentrate, you can become solid for very short periods of time. Don't use it too much, it taxes your energy, and you could vanish on us altogether."

Ravenwind's face grows grim, but she nods.

"Very good," Muse says with a sigh. "Nothing to do now except pray that Avianthar is successful."

Raeython
*Raeython hangs his head in shame. It was all his fault that the noble paladin teeters on the brink of death. He was not able to protect her. Ravenwind his companion took the attack that was meant for him. Ravenwind...his friend...Raeython's eyes burn with anger.

Palladium Muse
PM lays a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't blame yourself for her choices. You can only honor her for her sacrifice. It's not your fault. And you would have done the same for her."

Aivanther
Aivanther follows the narrow passageway, cautiously scanning the darkness. As he wanders the maze he does not hestitate, seemingly knowing the path on instinct. Suddenly he is in a courtyard at the base of a tower.  “WELCOME!” booms a disembodied voice, “Elf, I am here to offer you a choice! You, who've hated your parents and what they've done to you can now choose." Suddenly a male drow and a female Moon elf appear hanging over a deep chasm. "You choose which one you save, you can only save one or you can save none." 

Aivanther tensed, he HATED his parents, but he wasn't about to let anyone die in this horro filled hell. After he hesitates for a moment he yells, "Save my mother," then he leaps into the canyon, hooking a grappeling hook on the way down. Plummeting through the air, Aivanther grabs ahold of the drow right before the rope pulls tight. Gazing above he notices his mother has disappeared, he then begins to climb the rope.  When he reached the top, before him was standing a Glazebru who bellowed, "You cheated! Now you will die mortal!!!" and it charged him. Drawing his blades, Cryshal-Sabirus and his Dagger of Shadows, Aivanther rolled to the side of the charging hulk. Coming to his feet he could feel his Crystal Saber's desire for Demon blood. As the Demon rushed a second time, Aivanther simply charged himself. As he approached the demon, he swung his blades upwards and rolled between its legs. Suddenly the demon toppled rolling down into the chasm, his inner thigh cut to the bone. 

Panting, Aivanther approached his father, who began to fade out of existence. Suddenly the mist disappeared and Aivanther dropped to the ground unconscious to the voice of his father saying. "You have passed the test of love."

Ravenwind
They were alone in plain, small, white room, dimly light from an unseen source. The walls were nondescript, softly curving up to an unseen ceiling.

In the center of the room lay a book, opened to these words:

The final challenge is the test of intelligence. Answer these following riddles and go forward; answer them not, and remain here until the end of days.

On earth there's a warrior of curious origin. 
He's created, gleaming, by two dumb creatures 
for the benefit of men. Foe bears him against foe to inflict harm. 
Women often fetter him, strong as he is. If maidens and men care for him with due consideration and feed him frequently, he'll faithfully obey them and serve them well. 
Men succor him for the warmth he offers in return; but this warrior will savage anyone who permits him to become too proud. 

**
I am valuable to men, found far and wide, brought from the groves and from the mountain-slopes, from valleys and from hills. 
By day wings bore me in the air, carried me with skill under the shelter of the roof. Afterwards a man bathed me in a tub. 
Now I am a binder and a beater; immediately I throw a young man to the ground, sometimes an old churl. Immediately he discovers who struggles with me and contends against my strength that he must seek the earth with his back, if he does not first cease from his foolishness. 
Deprived of power, strong in speech, robbed of might, he does not possess control of his mind, of his feet, nor his hands. Ask what I am called, I who on the earth so bind men, dazed after blows about the light of day.

Ultima read the strange words of the riddles aloud, and turned to stare at the others. What could they mean?

Raeython
*Raeython bows his head in thought. After just a moment, he raises it again. He says:*

"I believe I know the answer to the first, but I will not utter it until I have thought on it more. The second is rather easy...Strong Dwarven Ale (or beer, mead, ...alcohol)."

Ravenwind
A loud -CLICK- snaps through the air. 
Aivanther's sharp elven eyes easily discern the outline of a door, previously hidden in the wall. "I might be able to pick the lock," he said, rather dubiously. "But it looks magical in nature, and is probably trapped."

"As soon as we answer the other question, the door should open," the Muse replied. "Don't touch it until then."

Aivanther
Aivanther studied the runes, muttering to himself. "Men succor him for warmth...hmmmm... What do men use for warmth, and war? What goes rampant when you let it get to big? DUH! It can only be Fire."

Palladium Muse
Overhearing Avianthar's muttering, comes and joins him, speaking very quietly.

"I think you're right."

Ravenwind
The door becomes limned with flames for a moment, as Aivanther speaks, and then vanishes, leaving an opening.

The adventurers pass through cautiously, Aivanther leading the way, checking for traps, Ravenwind's ethereal feet  through the rocks of the path. She was almost not even there, her form was so translucent. Raeython noticed with a start of surprise that she carried no weapons. Then he remembered that her shield and sword had fallen from her hands before the Muse had etherealized her. . . .

Raeython
As the adventurers pass through the doorway, they enter a long hallway. The hallway stands about 3 meters tall and 2 meters wide. The walls and ceiling are all made out of some kind of onyx brick. Each brick seems to be the exact copy of the next brick. They are all the same size, shape, and cut. No imperfections can be seen even on close examination. As far as the eye can see, the hallway seems to stretch out into infinity, without twists or turns.

*As they walk down the hallway, the ring on Raeython's hand steadily grows warmer. The farther they progress,  the warmer the ring becomes. Suddenly, Raeython notices something different. After a few paces it becomes clear to him that the ring is cooling down. Raeython calls out:*

"Everybody stop."

*The party turns and looks at Ratython, who points to the ring. Raeython explains about the ring, and they
backtrack to where the ring was the warmest on Raeython's finger. Finally, they reach a spot and, after testing both sides of the hall, Raeython decides that the west wall is where the ring is the warmest. Raeython says:

"Aivanther, there must be a passage through that wall, can you see anything"?

*Aivanther walks over to the wall. He stands close to the wall, and begins to scrutinize it. After about three minutes of this, he walks over to the wall, and places his hands on it. He traces every brick with his fingers, his face so close to the wall he is almost touching it. Finally, ten minutes later Aivanther snorts in disgust.*

"There is no doorway here. Even a master dwarven stonemason couldn't conceal a doorway from me if I know it's there."

*Raeython stands back and appraises the situation.*

"Does anybody have any suggestions," Raeython inquires.

Palladium Muse
"Let Ravenwind pass through. She of all of us has the best chance now of seeing what's on the other side of this wall. It may be interesting figuring out what, exactly, she's seen, but it's better than trying to hack through it."

Ravenwind
Ravenwind turned, and what they could see of her expression was pained. With a shrug, she paced towards the wall, and, pausing slightly, like a new swimmer putting her face in the water for the first time, slid into it.

Raeython and Aivanther shuddered. PM shrugged. "Okay, it's a bit creepy, I'll admit it."

A short while later, Ravenwind slipped back though, her ghostly face emerging first. She looked worried.

"How thick is this wall?" PM asked first. Ravenwind opened her mouth, made a face, and then took three exaggerated strides. PM scowled. "Okay, around eight feet. Not good."

Ravenwind shook her head, and tried to grab Aivanther's shoulder--her hand slipped through it, and the thief jumped back, startled. Shaking her head emphatically, Ravenwind drew something in the dust of the passageway--a door, and a series of patterns beside it. Intrigued, Aivanther studied them. "Ah, what a locking mechanism. Let me think about this."

While he studied the symbols, and occasionally fired questions at the shadowy form, asking her to clarify a drawing here, a line there, Ravenwind looked at PM, and determinedly pointed at the mage's pack. "Something in my pack?" the Muse asked. A nod. The mage opened it. A translucent finger touched the portable hole. "Something you were carrying?" Again, an emphatic nod. "Sword? Shield?" Ravenwind shook her head impatiently, and gestured, tracing a line around her throat.

"A noose!" Bob exclaimed wildly. "A hanged man!"

"An amulet," Ultima put in.

The Muse reached into the portable hole, and produced the amulet with the symbol of Torm on it that Ravenwind had always worn. A magical tingle ran up her hand from it. Surprised, she studied it closely. "Ah, it allows anyone to be protected from evil creatures, and seems to be attuned to the undead as well.. . ."

Ravenwind shook her head impatiently, stopping the woman's words. She pointed at the amulet, and then at PM.

Then she pointed at Giselle, and sharply pointed down the hall. "You want me to wear this, and you want Giselle to go back?" PM asked, puzzled. 

A sharp nod. Giselle reluctantly wandered back down the hall, looking puzzled. Aivanther snapped, "Okay, got it--push the runes in this sequence, and absolutely no other, or the traps will be set off, and I'm sure they'll be unpleasantly magical." Ravenwind watched as he drilled the correct order into her, and then slipped back through the wall once more.

The Muse slipped the amulet on, wondering what in the Nine Hells was behind that wall that made the woman's spirit so uneasy.

A flare of magical energy leaped along the wall, and it disintegrated. Ravenwind's spirit blurred back into the room, fleeing the spectral creatures within. They had their answers now--nishruu, half-ethereal, half-material, and the eaters of magic and banes of mages everywhere--looked up, saw the companions with their live-giving magic equipment and glowing swords--and charged. It was dinnertime.

Palladium Muse
The beast charging, PM does a quick mental process and is rewarded by a slim stream of information.

"I don't know much about this monster," she shouts to the others, pulling a bow out of her bag of holding. "But don't use magic of any sort on it. It will heal it! It won't be able to come near me, because of Ravenwind's amulet, but keep it away from her no matter what, or she'll be lost!"

An arrow seems to fly to the string of it's own accord, the arrowhead seeming oddly shaped. She draws back and lets fly, but it doesn't strike the creature so much as shatter against it. There is an hissing sound, and the beast writhes in agony as the acid burns into it. But only for a short while.

Grimly, she nocks another arrow.

Raeython
*Raeython puts himself between the ethereal form of Ravenwind and, watching PM's exampla, begins to reach into one of his numerous belt pouches. He checks himself at the last second, and reaches into a different one (pure magical arrows are not a good idea) and pulls out a longbow. Next, out of the same pouch he pulls out a quiver, and sets it on the ground next to the wall. Raeython then takes one knee and begins to launch arrows at the approaching creatures. His arm seems to blur as arrow after arrow are tirelessly launched from his bow. Each arrow finds its mark and detonates with a splash of acid. The leading creature seems to shrink inside of itself as it is blasted out of existance. The second and third quickly follow, but the tide of creatures advance, and Raeython doubts his and PM's ability to keep the nishruu at a distance.

Aivanther
While his companions fire arrow after arrow at the oncoming monsters Aivanther fishes through his pack. He quickly brings out an oil skin, two glass bottles, and a rag. Filling the two glass bottles with oil, Aivanther rips the rag in half and stuffs the two pieces into the end of the bottles. Getting out his flint he lights both rags and hurls them down the corridor, bathing the monsters in flames.

Ravenwind
Ravenwind pulled an ethereal dagger out of her boot; her last remaining weapon besides her fists. One of the nishruu, downed by Raeython's arrows and Aivanther's fire attack, lay howling on the floor. She slid her dagger through its ribs, rather surprised that she could feet any resistance, but then remembered it was at least partially ethereal as well. Concentrating, she forced the dagger solid, and the beast's howls stopped.

Dropping the dagger, she retreated behind her solid companions as yet more of the creatures emerged from their den.

Aivanther
Not hesitating to admire his handiwork, Aivanther slips on a ring of fire resistance and swallows and potion of invisibility. Invisible Aivanther dashes through the flames. Avoiding the monsters Aivanther arrives in a small room almost completely filled with a large, black crystal throbbing with power. He rolls out of the way as another monster appears and charges down the corridor.

Not sure exactly what to do but knowing he has to do <I>something</I>, Aivanther draws his blades and strikes the crystal. To his surprise both his blades slip easily into the crystal. The crystal suddenly began to emit a loud whine and Aivanther felt his blades grow cold. Unable to let go, he watched in horror as the Black Crystal began to vibrate violently and exploded. Aivanther is sent flying accross the room.

pure_ultima
Ultima swore has the tide of creatures swept down the corridor. He drew his sword but remembered the Muse's  words. He reached into his pack to draw a long sword but a shock flew up his arm and he sprang back. He could not use any other sword except for the sword of Ultima! He heard a hiss behind him and turned around. There stood a nishruu. Thinking fast he turned around and pulled back his gauntleted fist and let fly. The beast was hurled back and Ultima drew a bow and started firing arrows, piercing the creatures.

Ravenwind
At long last, the last of the nishruu lay dead. “Good thinking,” Raeython complimented Aivanther when they stepped into the guarded room at last, and saw the shattered portal within. The taciturn elf shrugged, passing off the accomplishment.

The nishruu had apparently guarded the room for centuries, and had amassed quite a stockpile of magical treasures, presumably to nosh on when they were summoned here. Some of the magical items had been drained and damaged by the magic-eating creatures; much had not. Aivanther, his mind (as always) caught by the opportunity for gain, sifted through the pile. Amulets, rings, wands, scrolls went flying. Close to the bottom, he found a couple of particularly nice weapons—perhaps kept for banqueting purposes by the hungry nishruu.

Beyond the tangled heap of dusty treasures and trash was a door. Raeython moved towards it, drawn by the warmth in the ring. “Ravenwind—“ he started, but the spectral image slipped by and through him, and walked through the door before he could ask. Almost immediately, though, she slid back through. Her eyes were wide, and she smiled. Kneeling, she wrote a word in the dust of the floor, a frown of concentration as she fought to keep her fingers solid.

 “The Tree?” he asked. She nodded. “Any guards?” She shrugged; evidently, she hadn’t seen any. But then, there could be magical wards and traps all around it, for all they knew.

Aivanther slid a couple of choice rings onto his fingers, and stashed a black figurine and some gems in his belt pouch, and stepped up to the door. In short order, its traps were disarmed, and its lock rendered itself up to his skilled fingers. The door opened. . . . 

pure_ultima
Aivanther easily picked the look and stood back, admiring his handiwork. Ultima stepped forward and looked at the door. It was ornate and black, on closer inspection he noticed that there was a tree carved into the woodwork. A sun was setting behind the tree. Suddenly the carvings swirled into a new pattern all together. The tree was no longer a tree but... The rod, the branches were now bolt of pure energy and the sky was scorched and foreboding. Around the base off the rod were slumped bodies, each with a symbol around it. All were terrifyingly recognizable. There was the symbol of Torm, Mielikki right through to Ultima's own. It all became so clear. Ultima turned to his companions and said 

"This is a vision of our future. It does not mean that it WILL happen but it is a possibility. I think it will harder to destroy this rod than we thought."

"Shall we proceed?" he said as he gently swung the door open...

Raeython
The door swung open...and there was nothing but darkness. The companions stood there, staring out into the darkness, looking for anything in the void. Raeython thinks to himself what is wrong? What are we missing? He sends his thoughts back, tracing every step of the quest in his mind...and suddenly he has it. He takes off the amulet-turned-ring of Det and, searching the floor, finds an indentation that fits the outline of the ring exactly. He turns towards the others, and they give him an encouraging gesture. Raeython takes the ring off his finger, and places it in its setting.

Immediately the darkness in the doorway begins to part in the center, as though somebody is drawing open a curtain. As the darkness recedes to the edges of the portal, a faint shimmering can be seen. The portal grows brighter, and scintillating waves of color can be seen traversing the breadth of the portal. After a few moments the waves subside, and a watery image can be seen.

Looking through the portal Raeython can see the remains of a once great city, and he surmises that it must be the ruins of Themecules. In the distance great buildings can be seen in various states of disrepair. Stone spires that once must have reached up towards the gods themselves lay broken into huge sections. Huge columns lay shattered across the foundations. A network of great stone troughs once resting atop pillars lay scattered about the rubble. The once level road is now overrun with potholes from missing stones, and the jagged protrusions of split rocks. A coliseum so large it seems to Raeython that the entire population of the known world could easily fit inside it lay in a state of semi-disrepair, great stone walls collapsing against each other.

Finally, he can see a golden colored river. The river traces back to the one structure that seems to have withstood the test of time, and what ever else befell this once great city. The river flows out of a golden fountain of incredible beauty that seems to be located in the very center of the city. The fountain stands a full ten meters tall, and sits upon a circular base; with the exception of a meter long section where the river flows out. The fountain seems to depict a battle of epic proportions between what seems to be angels and demons. At apex of the fountain are two gloriously detailed archangels with trumpets angling up towards the heavens themselves; the Everflowing Tequila Spring.

Behind the spring, Raeython sees the most ancient tree he had ever seen. Even more ancient than the 'trees' of the 'grove' that he serves. The trunk of the tree is easily as wide as the entire Rusty Sword building. The myriad branches forming an interlocking canopy of green leaves that reach so high up into the heavens that their tips are almost indiscernible. The first thing that Raeython notices other than the sheer size is the leaves. Each leaf is a double triangle connected at the tips. Raeython then knows without a doubt...this is the tree of Zantayla.

Aivanther
As Raytheon gazes through the portal, Aivanther dashes back and retrieves a body part of a fallen monster. Noticing this, Ravenwind raises an eyebrow inquiringly. "Just watch," says Aivanther as he tosses the arm through the portal. As the arm passes through the party sees a pillar of fire engulf the arms charring it to ashes. "Old trick used extensively by drow priests and wizards: place a trap right outside a portal, you can't really see it coming.

Question is though is it limited in charges? I doubt it, and it's most likely magical so I can't disarm it. Well, anyone have any ideas?"

Ravenwind
Giselle and the others who had remained out in the corridor cautiously entered the small room. The Muse half-closed her eyes, and incanted softly, gesturing with her branded hand. Her eyes opened. "Very powerful," she acknowledged. "It appears to be a glyph of warding, but far more powerful than any I have seen before."

Catching Giselle by the shoulder, the Muse consulted in low tones for a moment. Then, stepping apart, both women cast their spells, intricately braiding energies that even the others could see. With a joint gasp of effort, they released the spells.

The energies shot forward from their hands like a ballista bolt, flying through the portal. A light flared briefly on the other side; then nothing. "That was," the Muse paused, wiping at her brow, "difficult. We had to try to dispel magic beyond the portal, without disrupting its weave. . . test it again, and see if we were successful, please."

Aivanther found a limb on the floor that was missing its owner, and tossed it through. Again, nothing. "Well,  nonliving organic matter can make it through," PM said, staring grimly through the door. "But there's only one way to see if any traps remain for the living." 

Gritting her teeth, she stepped across the threshold. . . and arrived unscathed on the other side. "Come on then,"  she called back over her shoulder. "Let's see what else gets thrown in our path, shall we?"

Falconblade
**Falconblade drew his twin Katanas - one symbolising Life, the othe Death. To his surprise, they both gave off flames, one white, the other black. Falconblade was startled, but a voice was heard in his mind:

"Falconblade, there is fell magic in this place. We are nearing one of the Guardians of the Rod, a powerful mage. Your blades react to this magic and repel it. The Death katana can craft portals from air itself - allowing instant access to the Abyss and other parts of the World. However at present you do not know how to use it - it will remain closed to you. The Light katana is the weapon that you will use to destroy the rod. Its abilities are also unknown to you at present."

Falconblade grinned, and that grin had a lot of the wolf inside him in it. He struck his Katanas together, producing a blue flame, and stalked down the corridor, looking for all the world like a caged wolf.**

pure_ultima
As Ultima passed through the portal a vision passed before him. 

*He stood over the rod with the sword held high. Death had been caused by getting to the rod and he must end its existence. He stood thoughtful over the rod for a moment, hearing the spirits inside the rod crying out to him. He heaved the sword down and as it hit the rod a white light exploded all around...*

Ultima appeared on the other side of the portal gasping. He leaned over trying to catch his breath. After a moment he looked up, there was the tree of Zantayla. As he looked the whole land flashed a brilliant blue. He looked around and saw that the others were looking at him in a strange way. He walked forward and as he passed he looked down into the golden stream. His eyes, they had turned a complete brilliant blue from their normal brown, not just the iris but the pupil as well. He let loss a cry of fear, then he realized what was happening. It would not be too long until he could exact his revenge upon Malus... 

Ravenwind
The ethereal form of Ravenwind cringed back from Ultima. She could sense power radiating out from him, a power she was attuned to from the moment she had first lifted the shield onto her arm. Now that she was trapped here, between life and death, physicality and spirituality, the power of Torm still flowed through her--and like could sense like.

Not sure whether she meant to lead the group forward, or to flee from the overpowering sense of presence she now felt around Ultima, she flowed along the path ahead of the companions. Her sight and her other senses seemed dim to her, but she could see things she had never dreamed of before--fractured lines of light in the world around her, as if reality were a badly-mended bowl.

Passing through the ruins of the massive collesium, an unearthly chill touched her. There had been much death here. 

pure_ultima
Ultima followed his companions through the city until they came to the trunk of the tree of Zantayla. Ultima's sword was know glowing brightly and starting get hotter the nearer he approached the rod.

 "We have made it to the rod" Raeython announced. "With this container I can take the rod back to the grove." 

However Ultima was not listening. There was another voice speaking inside his head. "Ultima, you have made it to the rod. I have not over-estimated the power of the rod. You WILL be able to destroy it with your sword."

Ultima cautiously approached the rod. The rod was propped up upon a pedestal of marble which was cracked and scorched. Ultima felt that he was so near to his revenge that he must destroy the rod. He darted forward before Raeython could stop and lifted his sword high into the air. He could hear the shouts of others behind him but he was not paying attention. The voices of the spirits trapped inside the rod were crying out to him. They were telling him that if he was to take the rod, he would be all powerful and could control all Faerun.

He stood thinking and then brought the sword down heavily upon the pedestal, sending to parts of the rod flying into different directions. He had done it. But then the worst happened. Two bolts of energy shot out from the two halves of the rod and connected bringing the two pieces back together again.

The rod raised into the air and started a slow spinning, creating an orb all around it. Then, with one loud explosion, a beam of energy flew from the rod and it Ultima squarely in the solar plexus. Ultima flew back into a pillar smashing it to pieces and slumped to the floor... He awoke, immediately he knew he was no longer in the Abyss, his body way have been but his spirit wasn't. He was in HIS domain and revenge was not far away... 

Ravenwind
The others could only stand and stare in shock as Ultima crumpled to the floor. Palladium ran to his side and checked his pulse. Invisible to their physical eyes, but plainly apparent to Ravenwind's, which were now attuned to more spiritual things, his form shimmered and faded as a gate formed around him.

"Is he dead?" Falconblade asked, his face furious. 

Ravenwind and Palladium both nodded. "In a sense, yes," the Muse replied. "His spirit has left this place for the nonce. I can't put him in the portable hole with Ravenwind; there's no more room. Someone will have to carry him."

Falconblade stepped forward and lifted his fallen friend's body, making sure Ultima's sword was safely sheathed. "How many more?" he demanded. Bob seemed began to strum something to the effect of "ninety-nine adventurers left on the wall. . ." The other companions gritted their teeth and ignored the bard.

Raeython
*Raeython was stunned as Ultima raced towards the rod and clove it in twain. He knew that nothing good could come from it, and was proven right as Ultima was hit by the energy from the rod, and gated into another dimension.  Raeython begins to reach into one of his pouches when, for the first time, he hears a whisper in his head.*

"Raeython, son of the wood...we have waited for you. You are the one foreordained to wield our might."

*Raeython pulls out his container for the rod and takes another step forward*

"Raeython, with this rod you can change the world. The forests of yore can be restored. You could be the ruler of the forests, of the entire world." 

The rod then showed him a vision of a great forest with trees like the tree of Zantayla. Animals frolicking and going about their daily life. Then he can see a great palace, built as a part of the forest, in harmony with the forest.

Raeython sits on the throne, dispensing justice as only he could.

*Sweat breaks out on Raeython's head, as he takes another step towards the rod*

"Raeython, wield this rod...and we can bring her back!"

Then Raeython can see her. Her raven colored hair cascading down her shoulders, and falling around her waist. Her frost blue eyes capable of piercing you right down to your very soul. Her long limbed, perfectly shaped body that could run down a deer, or stir a firery passion. 

"Raeython, I can give you back Suradaelia."

*With those words, Raeython lets out a soul-wrenching yell, and falls to his knees; the case falling from his
   nerveless grasp.*

Falconblade
**Falconblade stepped up to the Rod, noting with some pain in his heart the body of his friend Ultima lying on the floor.

He was suddenly shunted off to one side of his awareness, and the voice took over.

"Courage, Falconblade. This is necessary - have faith."

He saw himself walking forward, then lifting the Rod off the pedestal. Then the awareness lifted one arm, and the Katana of Death swung, and sliced a portal in the air.

"Wait!" cried Raeython, but it was too late. Falconblade had stepped through the portal, with Ultima floating gently behind him.

Falconblade awoke on the floor of the Forest, with the Rod next to him. Ultima was lying next to him.**

**Falconblade stood slowly, Ultima still hovering behind him. Ahead of him was the cliff, where Falconblade had started his quest. Then the steps unrolled, even as they had before.

Falconblade went up them, and ahead of him stood the fountain, as before. He was about to throw the Rod into the fountain. He heard the voice saying...

"Go on, and all will be fulfilled," the voice said.

But then Falconblade stopped. He realised that this was the voice that had separated him from his friends. Instead he drew his Katana of Life.

"No!" screamed the voice.

Falconblade brought it crashing down on the fountain, and as explosions rang through the cave, he sank to the ground in exhaustion.**

Ravenwind
Falconblade and Ultima both vanished through a gate, and the others swore and ran after them, barely making it through before it collapsed behind them. They found themselves in a forest, somewhere, whether on a material plane or someplace else, they could not tell.

Again, the rod seemed to be picking up its haunting song, and the companions all stiffened, caught in it. Somehow, it seemed weakened in this place, perhaps because of the broken fountain here.

Ravenwind remembered the Muse's warning--to force herself too far into materiality was risking death. Mentally, she shrugged. From the moment Torm had chosen her as the instrument of his will, and had granted her the shield, her life had been forfeit. This half-life she was trapped in now was a mere fluke, a stay in the execution of divine will. She forced her hands into flesh, and took the container from Raeython. Then the container dropped from her now-ghostly fingers as the shock of hearing voices inside her mind shook her control. 

"Do you remember? Do you remember?" they whispered incessantly. "Do you remember how after your parents died, you and your sisters were left in the street? How you had to raise them, how you had to shovel manure in the barracks of the Order for three years to feed them before the knights realized you could wield a sword?"

She stood unflinching. You'll have to do better than that, she thought at the rod, and stepped forward.

"Your sister, Mazea, meddling with magics, taught by corrupt mages. The baby, Ranna, running around with thieves, getting into the gods' only know what kind of trouble. You could save them," the voices prompted. 

Ravenwind swayed, her form flickering. They must make their own choices. I cannot decide their lives for them.

"You could save them all. You could bring order and justice to all their lives," the voices whispered, and the images flew through her mind. The street children, much as they had been, all those years ago. Children lying safe at home in bed, but afraid of the night. Children afraid when they heard their parents' voices raised in anger. 

<I>Stop trying to trick me. I cannot make others' choices for them. I can only live my own life as best I can, try to teach others, and let them do with my example and teachings what they will</I>. With a wrench, she stepped forward again, until she stood over the rod. It screamed in delight. At last, someone had come to take it up!

Not to take it up, but to silence it. She spread her ethereal essence around it, and forced her entire body into
solidity. She could feel its evil inside her breast, could feel the sudden beating of her heart lurching around it. Her entire body wracked in pain, but she held to her grim control. Her companions, released from the hold of the voices, looked up, gasping in relief. "Raeython, hurry!" Ravenwind said, shocked at the sound of her own voice. She sounded like a child. "I can't hold it much longer!"

Her ranger friend snatched up the container and leaped forward, catching her by the shoulders as she fell. Her bright blue eyes met his for an instant. "This is not the end," she managed. "Nothing can contain the evil of this rod--not my life, not the gift of Mielikki. It must be destroyed." She gasped as her heart spasmed. "Hope to see you again, my friend," she whispered.

And her form dissolved back into ethereality once more, and then vanished entirely. Raeython reflexively snapped the container shut around the evil rod as it fell to the ground.

pure_ultima
Ultima was standing in front of a huge stone palace, his palace. But something had happened to it, in the twenty-five years of being a human the palace had crumbled, the gardens decayed and the fountains had stopped playing. However this had nothing to do with time as time did not matter in the ethreal realms. 

Malus had caused this.

Ultima had to see if it was true. He snapped his fingers and willed his way through the palace. He was outside the hall where his throne sat. The doors ahead of him had been deeply scratched and battered. A battle had happened here recently. Ultima laid his hands on the door, and it shuddered. A charm had been placed on this door to heed him. 

The doors exploded against the force of Ultima's will. He entered the chamber, there at the end surronded by tattered tapestries and decaying bodies sat Malus on his throne of ebony thorns. Malus was clearly surprised but quickly recovered. He took a sip from a golden goblet and stood up. "You dare to challenge me AGAIN, whilst you are still a human? The stupidty of it, this time I will kill you and drink your blood."

Ultima flicked his hand and Malus was sent flying against a wall, as he hit the wall the goblet fell from his hands and blood spilt out of it. Ultima carelessly flicked his hand in the opposite direction and yet again Malus was sent flying.

This time he remained pinned, choking. Ultima brought him back to his ebony throne and sat him down. "You cannot do this too me, I was assured that you could never ascend."  Malus sent a beam of blood-red energy flying at Ultima, who deflected it easily.

"You shall know the pain you have suffered me" Ultima rasped.  Ultima snapped his fingers and Malus disappeared.  A small portion of the god’s energies came to rest in Ultima, but the rest dispersed.

Down on Faerun a shepherd watched his sheep in his cottage. There was a light tapping at his door. Gabbing a staff he got up to open it. There stood a dark figure. The shepherd’s staff fell to the floor, with the sound of choking in the background.

With a nod, Ultima returned to Faerun and his companions.

Aivanther
Aivanther sat up, suddenly regaining consciousness. "Dang, I HATE interplaner travel! Oh well, at least we're back."

Seeing his companions slowly regaining conciousness, the elf stood up and began to search his surroundings.

Aivanther recognized the area, "HEY! We're not to far outside of Waterdeep! You guys we'll be back for Che's wedding in no time!"
                         
"Great," grumbled Bob, "I need some tequila to drown this headache with."

Falconblade
**Falconblade rejoined the other people, breathing lightly from his exertions.

He heard the last from Aivanther and said:

"We may be near to home, my friend, but the evil has only just begun."

Raeython
*Raeython looks to his companions and says:*

"I will meet up with you guys when I can, the rod must be attended to."

*Though they had just ended the immediate threat of the rod, putting it in the blessed container, already Raeython can sense...something from the case strapped to his back; and that can't be good. Raeython slips into the shadows, and 'ghosts' through the forest until he comes to the grove. Raeython again gives out the sound of the Purple Warble, and receives the answering call from the grove. He walks into the grove and again bathes himself in the aura of the wisdom of the ages. Immediately after entering the grove the feeling that he was getting from the rod diminished. 

"I have sensed your return. You were successful, I can 'feel' the power of the artifact you cary, even through the powerful enchantment of the case."

*As always, when Raeython hears the depth of power in this holy ladies voice, he is calmed and reassured.*

"Yes mother, with the help of stalwart companions I was able to retrieve the rod, though one of them, a paladin of extreme virtue may be lost. Please mother, destroy this rod, the price of obtaining it was too high."

"We know of the plight of the noble paladin of Torm, and can understand your eagerness to destroy this rod. Know that she is not dead, just not on this plane of existence. However, destroying the rod is very dangerous, and nearly impossible. The origin of the rod is traced back to the legendary Druids of Damethracon. Before humans populated this land, it was 'ruled' by these mysterious beings. Not much is known of them, other than the fact they were not human in the current sense of the word. They could wield the primal forces of nature on a scale that is not even dreamed of today. Destroying the rod is not something to be taken lightly."

*Raeython is becoming distressed at these words and interrupts:*

"Mother, do not tell me that you don't intend to destroy the rod. I have seen first-hand only a fraction of its power, and it scares me like nothing else. It must be destroyed!"

*The ancient druid eyes locked on Raeythons, and he can sense just a fraction of the power locked inside the great woman.*

"We have every intention to destroy the rod. We are not foolish enough to believe we could ever harness its power. It is just not something that can be done lightly. Listen and take heed: the rod must be destroyed when our power is at its highest. In a tenday, there will be a full moon. During this time, natures power will be at our highest, as will our own. It is then we must destroy the rod. However, it will require the presence of the companions who quested for it. Through the course of your trials to obtain the rod, you have all proved your ability to resist its evil power.

“The bond that has grown between all of you will be 'helpful' when the time comes to destroy the rod for all time. You must find the valiant Ravenwind and bring her back, as she must be a part of this. This has all been foreseen, and it is the only hope we have of dealing with the insidious power of the rod. We will keep the rod here in the grove until that time. The presence of the 'trees' and our power weakens some of the rod's tremendous powers. Remember Raeython, you have a tenday until the full moon."

*With those last words, the druid slips back into the grove, leaving the troubled ranger behind. Raeython thinks to himself, that in order to find Ravenwind, he will need some information. Perhaps if he returns to the town he can find something a the Rusty Sword, or perhaps in Torm's temple.

Back at Che’s tavern, the father of the bride is beginning to fret.  As is the bride herself:

Ravenwind
 Che recovered from his sudden, twisting bellyache, and walked out into his tavern, ready at last for the wedding.

Just then, three women strange women stormed through the front door. All three had varying shades of red hair, and bore a close family resemblance to a certain servant of Torm. One, wearing the long robes of a mage, and studying a small chip of crystal in her hand announced, "It's here. This is the place where her emanations are strongest. She's spent a lot of time here."

The shortest of the three snorted a bit. "Lady Lawful, here?" She looked around, and shrugged. "Looks like this place has been cleaned up since the last time I was here," she added dubiously, fingering a dagger at her waist.

The third, who wore the robes of a priestess, but carried herself somehow differently, spotted Che. "Good sir,” she said, a bit ingratiatingly. "I can see your busy, and that a wedding--or a brawl—is about to take place here, so I'll be brief. We're looking for our sister, Ravenwind of the Order of the Hand of Torm. We think something may have happened to her. Have you seen her recently?"

Che paused, studying them. They looked formidable. The mage and the short one were examining the room in a way that left no doubts that they were catching every detail. The mage's hands were ready in prime spell casting position as well. "Well, ladies, yer sister came through here a mite ago, and left on a quest for a Tequila Spring. In the Abyss."

The three women stared at him. "Tequila Spring?" the short one asked, blinking in astonishment.

The mage sat down heavily at the bar. "The Abyss?" she asked.

"You'd all better have a sit," Che advised them. "Me'll have one of me orcs bring you some of me finest tequila; me's thinking you'll be needing it."

Che
Che entertained the sisters of Ravenwind the best he could. Some of his classic dwarven humor again met blank faces, as the other dwarves giggled to the side, anxious to add to the long, drawn out tales. The halflings were entertaining themselves with a card game called Schlonk. The kobolds were intrigued by the rules of the game but could not follow any logic of it from hand to hand. The halfling leader invited the kobolds to join in, but Che promptly drew the kobolds attention away and offered more drink to them. Che knew that the last thing he needed was frustrated kobolds trying to learn a game that takes ages to master.

Meanwhile, Muriel was upstairs, anxiously waiting for the ceremony to begin. "Cheran, why is it taking so long for my wedding to start? Is there a problem?" 

"No, no dear sister. Papa is making sure everything is perfect. You must put trust in our father's actions," answered Cheran.

Downstairs the orcs were practicing their puppetry skills with Dravin. Many cords of rope hung from the rafters, attached to various body parts upon the personage of the young wizard. With a few proper and strategic tetherings of the strings Dravin was able to rise and wave his arms about. His mouth would move with silence coming out. Pointing needed fine precision, but eventually took on an elegant stance. The orcs in their over-exuberance with their achievements, at one point had Dravin making rude gestures--something that the half orcs took umbrage to, until they too realized the nature of the show.

Che stood and watched the crowd as he gently bit his lip and crossed his fingers.

Ravenwind
Suddenly, Mazea Ravenwind cried out in pain. "She's gone," she told her sisters. Ranna and Karasu gathered close, and all three bowed their heads.

pure_ultima
A tiny owl, no bigger than six inches high, flew into the bar and landed on Che's shoulder. Che noticed a note was attached to the owl's legs. He untied it and read.

"Hello Che,

Congratulations to you and your daughter. I will try to make it to the wedding in time."
It was signed:
"Ultima, The Lord of Fate”

Falconblade
**Suddenly a blue-fletched arrow came whizzing through the open window and landed with a thunk in a table. Slightly wide-eyed, Che read the note aloud:

                       "The cry of the Falcon aloud on the wing
                       Speaks of glad tidings this wedding shall bring,
                       This arrow signifies all Elvenkind,
                       The scream of the Falcon, aloud on the wind."

                       Falconblade, Elite Hunter of the Deepwood.**

Ravenwind
The Companions of the Quest for the Rod of Zantalya shuffled back into the main room of the Rusty Sword, blinking a bit as they saw the preparations for the wedding. Raeython blinked even more when he saw the three red-haired women sitting by the bar. All bore a haunting facial resemblance to Ravenwind, although the stance and bearing of each was markedly different.

"At last!" Che cried out, "at last me daughter will be married off in proper style!"

The three women at the bar ignored him, and stared at the travel-worn party with cold eyes. The shortest and youngest in appearance hopped down off her stool and confronted them. "We understand that our sister, Ravenwind of Torm, was last seen with you," she said. "I am Ranna. We sense she has been in grave danger, and may even now walk with her god." Raeython could have sworn he heard her mumble under her breath 'damned goody-two-shoes,' but surely he was mistaken.

"To some extent, this is so," the Muse interposed. "It may yet be possible to restore her life to her. I know she would want to be here for Muriel's wedding."

Ravenwind's sisters turned to one another, staring blankly. Apparently, none of them had heard of Ravenwind's attachment to the tavern and its regulars.

****
Meanwhile, on another plane of existence, Ravenwind herself paced the shining halls of the citadel of Torm. She'd heard Roland tell the tales of his exploits more times than she could count; Astalfo's tall-tales had amused for a while; but she had never thought her after-life would be so boring. . .

Aivanther
 Aivanther smirks at Ravenwind's sisters. He knew some of their history and how they had 'difficulties' in understanding each other. Dismissing them, Aivanther had more important things on his mind. He reached behind the counter and pulled out a bottle of Tequila leaving a bag of gold in its place. The elf took a deep swallow and then gazed at his companions and passed the bottle around. 

Once the group finished drinking Raytheon suggested, "We'd better see what we can do about Ravenwind." The group left, the sisters following the group to Torm's temple, still miffed at their sister's association with such an odd place as the Rusty Sword

Raeython
Raeython can hardly believe the resemblance to Ravenwind. Knowing that restoring Ravenwind is a task that is beyond himslef alone, he decides to take them into confidence. He relates to Ranna the details of Ravenwind's predicament. He then addresses Ranna:

"I know that her ties to the corporeal have not yet been severed, but I do not know where she currently resides. I know that it is possible to restore her, but I don't know how. It is crucial that she be restored within the next ten days, or there will be dire consequences. If you have any suggestions, I for one would be willing to help in any way possible."

Raeython then informs Ranna that he and Aivanther will be going to the temple of Torm for insight.  The three sisters tag along.*

Che
As the group followed the road leaving the tavern a group of dwarves, eight of them, approached. "Hmmm, more visitors for the wedding, I suppose," commented Aivanther. The dwarven contingent halted and what seemed to be the leader, was carefully eyeing Aivanther, Raeython, and the sisters of Ravenwind. The dwarf was old, much older than Che. A full head of grey was mirrored by a long, flowing beard that seemed whiter than the falling snow. Red was the predominant color of what seemed to be a uniform. Breaking the rouge was a black velvet belt buckled by a golden assortment of topaz gems. His boots were a glistening charcoal, obviously kept clean of mud. Over his shoulder he carried a massive sack, whose still canvas was irregularly shaped as if some awkwardly constructed manifestation was trying to release itself.

Raeython began to approach the dwarfs but then halted, when their leader suddenly dropped his bag. His arms were then outstretched to either side of him, with his wrists performing a circling motion. Four dwarfs scrambled and were on either side of the adventurers, not more than thirty feet away. They each equipped themselves with a six-foot long chain flail, which they began circling over their heads. Faster and faster they spun their iron, causing much of the snow underneath them to rise and cloud the area. Mazea started for her weapon, when Aivanther grabbed her wrist and shook his head. The adventurers were engulfed in a sea of white, losing sight of the once predominantly red dwarf. Out of nowhere it seemed, their ears then began to be filled with a sound. An awful sound. A moaning it seemed. An ominous bellowing, like from the belly of some creature in pain. The whiteness continued to blind while the eerie intonations continued getting louder and nearer. Closer came the aching nature of a trapped soul or a wounded body. Distress was calling with its rhythmic melody, piercing the ears of the adventurers. Raeython was wondering why he was tapping his toe, and then noticed Avanther was doing the same.

Suddenly it was silent. The haunting noise ceased. The whipping of chain through wind also was gone. Slowly the mist of snowflakes began to settle. The dwarf leader stood five feet in front of the astonished adventurers. "Allo to ye all. Hopes me bagpipes were not a bother to ye. Always a liked the dramatic when me's a playin'. I'm a here to surprise me brother Thi, and a play at 'is wedding Oh, where's me manners, me name's Tho."

A massive palm was extended in the direction of Raeython. Pleasant introductions were made, followed by apologetic farewells, as the dwarfs wished to rush themselves to the wedding. Aivanther a simple wave, and noticed the three sisters again grumbling about their sister's affiliation with such an assembly. Mazea spoke softly, "Yes I agree, sister, there must be something magical in Che's tequila."

The adventurers continued with their rescue.

Ravenwind
When they reached the temple of Torm, Ranna hesitated outside the threshold. "Um, I'm not exactly welcome in here," she muttered, glancing around. Yet she sidled into the temple with the others anyway.

The Muse extracted Ravenwind's body from the portable hole in which it had been held, and all onlookers winced at the gruesome wounds left by the tanar'i's claws. Karasu, the reticent sister, knelt beside the body while Raeython shouted for a healing priest. She touched her sister's pale forehead. “I have some small skill in healing wounds,” she stated, and quietly began to chant. The words had an eerie, foreign quality to them that none of them had ever heard before. Mazea pried Ravenwind’s mouth open, and forced a noxious-looking cordial down her throat. Slowly, the wounds began to draw together, reluctantly. But still, there were no signs of life. 

A priest of Torm bustled out, and looked quite dismayed to see them all surrounding the fallen woman’s body. “Torm’s chosen has fallen in her appointed task,” he said, spreading his hands helplessly. “All chosen to bear the shield have fallen so, in honor and glory. To call upon him to restore her to this life would be sacrilege.”

Ranna appeared to have her sister’s short temper. Gliding in on the priest, she slipped a dagger against his ribs—subtly, so no other officials of the temple would see. “Tap on great Torm’s door,” she suggested sweetly. “Or you’ll be walking through it yourself ere the sun goes down.” Aivanther smothered a grin, finding this sister much more to his liking than the eldest, who was useful at best, but a lawful annoyance at worst. 

Swallowing hard, the priest looked at the resolute faces of the other companions. None looked inclined to move to his aid. “I will try,” he whispered. Bowing his head, he chanted softly, calling on Torm, Tyr, and Ilmater, members of the great Triad, to hear his plea. He paused, looking confused.  “I do not think I am being heard,” he said, sounding frightened. “Torm seems. . . distracted. I think he might only hear the voice of another god or goddess right now, but surely not mine.” He slumped, not even flinching as Ranna drove her dagger harder against his side. Apparently, he told the truth.

Che
With his keen ears, Che heard the melodic sound of the pipes from outside. He excitedly rushed out of the tavern to greet his brother. "Tho ye old bugger, yers made it!"

"Aye that I did, Thi. Can't let me little brother 'ave a wedding without me pipes to enthrall the masses. Congratulations to ye and Muriel. And who be the groom?"

"Tis one o' me hirelings, an orc named Hack. A good sort o' a feller."

"An orc eh? You were always a one fer somethin' a different."

“Well come on a inside, an old coot lika yerself should no be a out in this cold."

"Old? Me's can a still muscle ye down to the ground like always. But it be a wee bit nippy outta here. Me did overhear from one o' the three lassies that just left that there may be a wee bit o' tequila in yer establishment."

That there be. Come. Relax and warm yerself with a bottle o' me finest."

The two dwarfs laughingly entered the tavern.

Raeython
*Raeython bows his head head in thought. Only another god or goddess...Raeython then snaps his head back up. He gestures to the companions:*

"I know what to do. Grab Ravenwind and follow me."

*Raeython then leads the companions off into the forest outside of the town. He then approaches
the group.*

"I must apologize for this, but I am going to have to ask you to go blindfolded for the remainder of the journey. This is not my secret alone, and I must uphold our traditions."

Ravenwind's sisters started to balk at this request. Raeython fixed them all with a steady stare.

"You were not part of our quest. You are her sisters, and therefore it might be a good idea if you are there for what is about to happen. Know this, if you don't comply with my request, there is no way you will be able to follow where we go. If you attempt to follow on your own, you will not leave this forest alive. This is not a threat; this is a fact. If your presence helps in any way, I would be most grateful if you would accompany us. This is probably your sisters only chance, but I will leave the decision up to you."

Ravenwind
In the citadel of Torm, there was unrest.

"I hear the barbarians who follow Tempus go to Valhalla," someone piped up at the back of the group. "Wenches, wine, song, and battles every day."

Ravenwind raised an eyebrow. "Don't know that the wenches bit would appeal to me, but the wine part does. Reminds me of a favorite tavern of mine, anyway. At least it sounds like they have something to do. Any other ideas?"

"Well, Mielikki's followers get to hunt every day."

"Sunshine! Fresh air!" someone cried out enthusiastically.

"Right then; we're agreed. Shall we make the attempt?" Ravenwind asked the hundreds, even thousands of knights assembled in the courtyard of the citadel of Torm.

"First time I've tried to break down a castle's gates from the inside," Astalfo said with a grin. "Hope Torm doesn't mind a little chaos every eon or so."

Wave upon wave of ghostly knights hit the towering gates, and finally, at long last, forced them open. "Let's see what the universe has to offer, shall we?" Roland shouted over his shoulder at the disciplined mob of knights, and they all strode out from the gates in an orderly, yet somehow defiant march.

****
Meanwhile on Faerun, Ravenwind's sisters submitted to the binding of their eyes with some grace, although Ranna could be heard to grumble periodically. The other companions aceded as well, and Rayethon led them deep into the forest's heart. . . .

Raeython
After a long interval of time, Raeython bid the group to stop. He gave the sound of the Purple Warble bird, and waited for the answering call before leading the group into the grove. Once inside the grove, Raeython is approached by a ranger dressed all in forest green. Raeython asked:

"I need to perform the ritual of unbinding."

The ranger answered:

"What possible reason could you have for doing that? For such a sacrifice the need would have to be great indeed, and must be sanctioned by the reverend mother, who is not available at this time. Why have you brought these people into the sacred grove?"

Raeython answered:

"The need is great, as mother knows. I will take responsibility for the people being here. Some of them will be returning in a ten-day to finish the quest we started. You know I would not go against the grove and our mother."

The ranger said: "Do what you must, though any consequences that rise from these actions will be on your head."

With that statement, the ranger disappeared into the trees. Raeython announced: "You may now remove your blindfolds. You are in one of the most sacred places in the known world.  This is the sacred grove, and the source of the rangers and druids power. I have brought you here because there is no other hope for Ravenwind. I am going to summon Mielikki, and ask her to intercede with Torm to return Ravenwind's soul. Just stand back and watch, but do not interfere."

PM removes Ravenwind's now healed body, and lays it on the ground. Raeython has everybody back away, then kneels on the ground. He draws Forest Friend from its sheath, and in the grove it seems to glow with an eerie silver light. Raeython then takes the sword and drives it nearly to the hilt in the soil of the grove. Raeython begins to chant in a weird language. None of the companions can understand what he is saying, but he seems to be repeating the same few sentences over and over.

After he finished the incantation for the first time, Forest Friend started emanating the silver light further and further from the blade. Each time he finished the incantation, the light from Forest Friend diminished, but the light kept reaching further and further from the blade. Raeython finished through the incantation one final time, and Forest Friend lost its glow altogether, and the light gently faded from the surrounding area.

After a few seconds, a presence can be felt. A feeling that something much more powerful than yourself wafted through the grove. A ghostly image entered the grove. The being was in the shape of a unicorn, but the feeling given off was that this was something much greater and much more wonderful. The being seemed to survey each and every one of the companions in turn, its gaze finally lingering on Raeython.

Why was I summoned here, beloved of Mielikki?  

The words were not spoken, but they hit the minds of the companions and seemed to burn like fire.

"You sent me on a quest to destroy the Rod of Zantayla, and with the aid of these companions I have almost completed your quest. The final step can not be completed until the next full moon, when the grove's power will be at its height. Our mother said that each of the companions should be there as well, as it is there perseverance who obtained the rod. One of the compaions, a most noble paladin of Torm has fallen, and so I have called you here."

Raeython responded to the unicorn.

Why was Torm not asked to revive your companion if she is his follower?

"We did take her to Torm's temple, but the priest there was unable to contact his god. He said that                        only another god or goddess might be able to reach him. That is why I beseech you for your aid." Raeython responded.

Ever have you served me well, Raeython. Know this, we gods do not usually interfere with each other's business. The gods are jealous, and guard their followers and their territory well. However, the rod of Zantayla is a concern to all of us gods, and you have always served me faithfully. I will make an exception this once, and I will ask Torm to restore his paladin.

With that, the unicorn left.

Raeython grabs his now ordinary sword from the ground, turns to his companions and says:

"Now, we wait."

Ravenwind
An hour passed. The companions sat in the long grass, listening to the drone of the bees bustling amid the wildflowers sprinkling the grove.

Without warning, a man appeared in the center of the grove. His face was ever-young, but his hair was white with experience. He wore full armor, and carried a long sword, which he now leaned upon. Yet there was an overwhelming sense of presence, discipline, formality, and control about him, a precision to his movements. Several of the companions shifted, disturbed by the presence of the God of Duty, subordinate to, yet another face of Tyr, and defender of the Tablets of Fate. 

His eyes pierced through them all, knew every thought, every deed. Rayethon was staggered by the weight of the words that now entered his mind. So, thou wouldst have my beloved Handmaiden returned to life, to the ever-persistent burden of duty? She gave up her life freely, even joyfully, knowing that it was her duty and privilege to do so.

Raeython swallowed. A quick glance around the grove showed him faces rapt, as each person suffered a similar interrogation, all in their own minds. "Her duties are not yet over," he managed, couching his plea as he thought this stern deity might best understand, and be moved by. "The Rod must be destroyed, and without her presence, that cannot be accomplished, and she will have given her life in vain."

Torm gestured, and suddenly, they were in a cool, gray place, completely apart from all others. Thou needs must understand, child of Mielikki, that what thou ask has never been granted, and for good reason. All of my chosen ones, bearers of the shield, have carried a tiny spark of my essence within them, controlled by the shield. To allow her to return, unregulated by the shield's demands, but still with that tiny faction of my divinity within her. . . would be dangerous.

"Do you not trust her?"

Aye, I do. I must. And gladly would I return her, if only I knew where she were. For an instant, Raeython detected a hint of humor in the god's eyes. She seems to have found my afterlife restrictive, and has pinched a few thousand of my finest knights. They are wreaking havoc on quite a few planes of existence. I will call them.

The grove appeared around them once more. Torm clapped his hands together sharply, and commanded, in a voice that shook the very rocks themselves, "Daughter, awaken! Hearken unto me! Thy tasks are unended, and thou needs must return to them!" His tone, profoundly formal with Raeython, had turned gentle, yet commanding. "Return!"

At first, nothing happened. Then, in the distance, they all could hear the pounding of hooves. Then came a force like none even the long-lived trees of the grove had ever seen: thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of knights, spectral, ghostly, yet armored, mounted, and ready for battle charged into the glade, passing through trees, overlapping one another. Behind them, legions of barbarians strode, alongside figures bearing bows. Followers of Mielikki. Torm actually looked pained, and began shaking his head. Mielikki and Tempus are not going to like this, Raeython thought, trying very hard not to laugh. At least one of the ghostly knights spotted one of the spectral rangers, and immediately slapped him on the back, doubtless renewing a millenia-old acquaintance.

Thou, my daughter, wert ever a scrapegrace, Torm told Ravenwind's ethereal figure, where she stood at the forefront of the knights.

That aspect of you that is Justice, my lord, must surely see that it is not right to reward service, duty, and obedience throughout life with never-ending boredom and inactivity, came the immediate response, sharp and clear in Raeython’s mind.

We shall discuss this anon, daughter. For the nonce, return to thy life and thy duties, and I will attend to thy requests. Perhaps I have been remiss.

Ravenwind's soul slipped back into her body. With a shudder, she opened her eyes, and saw the face of her god. With a cry, she sat up, reaching out her hands--but Torm, his followers, and all the other spirits who had haunted the grove--vanished without a trace. She buried her face in her hands and wept.

Raeython
Ravenwind's sisters immediately rush towards the now-restored paladin, but Raeython holds them back.

"She just came back from the afterlife, and saw the face of her god. That couldn't have been an easy thing. Give her a few minutes to sort things out."

Raeython thinks back on the events of the past few days. Much has happened, and much has been accomplished. Finally, they are just one step away from destroying the rod, and safeguarding the realms from its menace. They have gained much, yet they had lost much as well. Forest Friend, one of the most sacred artifacts of the grove, is now just an ordinary sword. More than that, the sword was a part of Raeython as well. Knowing that the sword returned to him even after he had left his post, Raeython always knew he was fighting for justice. The forces of good had lost a powerful talisman. Raeython decides to end his brooding on a positive note: at least Ravenwind will be able to attend the wedding.

Ravenwind
Ravenwind staggered to her feet, moving awkwardly, and threw out her arms for balance. The Muse and Raeython each caught an arm, and held her upright. Tears still ran down her face. "Thank you," she whispered. Her quick glance to Raeython showed the ranger that she understood indeed how great the sacrifice had been that had brought her back to life.

With shaking fingers, reached for the sword they had sheathed at her waist--the Flame of Justice--and unbuckled it. "Let this blade remain here," she said, "until such a day as one who might wield it in both the name the Lord of Duty, and for the devotion of the Lady of the Woods may come and take it up once more."

Raeython took the weapon from her, and set it on a nearby altar. Then they all submitted once more to the blindfold, and were led from the sacred grove once more, subdued, yet not sorrowful.

Raeython
When they finally arrived back at the Rusty Sword, Raeython put in a summons for Che. While waiting for Che, Raeython doesn't see the harm in indulging himself, so he orders a round for all of the companions, and Ravenwind's sisters, including a mug of 'strong dwarven ale' for himself. After a bit of time, Che arrives. Raeython asks him if he can spare a couple of rooms so that they might refresh themselves, and if he knew of any tailors that might have suitable attire for the companions for this joyous occasion. Gesturing to one of his ever-present pouches, he says not to worry about him.