As of 2/27/98


TURN 5: Inn of Ill Intent



"Good thing that I didn't mention my travels through the Independent States, eh?" Ethan said in a low voice to Rogmund, as the others made their way across the street after corraling up the horses. "Many are the practices in some of those realms that make anything of Aarenki pale by comparison."

Rogmund grunted something unintelligible, and waited for the others to return. "Hroknar, if you will take the lead, the rest of us will fall into formation behind you. Ysoltre, where did you encounter the tracks again, exactly, and what were the surroundings like? Since we have your knowledge of the terrain, so to speak, we can set our combined actions and responsibilities accordingly."

"At the foot of the stairs," Ysoltre replied. "I followed them upstairs and into three different rooms on the second floor. One on the left, one on the right, and one at the end of the hall. The left and right rooms held nothing to speak of, but the third had traces of blood on the floor and the wall was blown outward. That is when I exited and heard my angels." The bard smiled at the archer and his companion. "I bolted for Hroknar's stones then, and I guess you know the rest."

"Let's have a look-see at these tracks, then," Ethan said as he moved into position, waiting for the others before entering the inn.

Patting all of his weapons to make sure everything was in order, Hroknar moved to the door of the inn. He turned to Rogmund and asked, "You are with me, yes? Then, if the others are ready, let's go inside."

The party moved into the inn - Hroknar through the door first; followed by Ethan, arrow nocked and drawn; then Rogmund, Karissa, and Ysoltre. It was obvious that they had entered what once must have been the common room. A thin layer of dust covered much of the items in the room, many of which had been overturned or broken. Here and there was obvious evidence of footprints traveling haphazardly across the floor, seeming to lead to the stairs evident along the far wall.

"A balm for weary minds, a respite earned from day's long labor," Karissa mumbled, her voice soft but still carrying in the sudden calm as each of the five individuals stared about the chamber.

Rogmund laughed at his partner's comment, a short, harsh sound. "Once, but there hasn't been much night life around here for some time."

"The Warden said the village was attacked the other day?" Ethan asked Karissa as he glanced across the dust-covered room. "Weeks, if not months, more like. Maybe we should give this room the quick once-over before moving upstairs, eh?"

The brunette looked at Ethan. "Ne'er did I mention an attack of 'just the other day.' Bowen bespoke that the village began to be abandoned by its peoples more than a fortnight ago - telling fear-fraught tales of strange occurrences and of being assaulted by feelings of dread and woe. Then, all contact ceased. Bowen bespoke that trackers and warriors who sought the reason why disappeared, or were found torn asunder, as if by some fearsome beast. Then those whose farms lie on the outermost reaches of lands surrounding the villages of Narwich and Harginthorpe began to report sightings of what sounds to me to be a Yeth Hound, if Bowen's description was rendered truly to mine ears."

"The dust looks as though it might be a fortnight's worth, maybe longer," Rogmund said. "But why all the damage? Was everyone just in a hurry to leave? Did those villagers who left last resort to purloining anything of value they could find? Was there somebody else responsible, either before, during, or after the hamlet was abandoned?"

Karissa faced the armored swordsman. "I shall maintain vigil at the stairway, if Ysoltre will do likewise from the entryway. Hroknar, Ethan, and thee can search this chamber, if that is thy wish."

Ysoltre nodded and took up a position near the doorway.

Hroknar looked about the common room, paying particular attention to the dust covered floor. He stepped to one side and said, "If you are fairly good at discerning the meaning of the scuffs and such on the floor, why don't you lead, Ethan? I would rather you look at things first, before I destroy any prints that you might make good use of."

Ethan studied the disturbances in the dust. "Not a real pattern here," he said to the others. "Numerous tracks, though. I don't, however, see any sign of this hound." Ethan knelt down slightly, his eyes fixed upon the floor. "No, nothing more than prints upon prints. Almost seems as though they were made in by fast-moving feet, although I can't be sure." The young ranger stood, glancing at Hroknar. "You want to check things out a bit more before going upstairs?"

Hroknar shook his head and said, "I don't believe so. Though you said that the tracks you found were possibly made by fast-moving feet, which would indicate that the former inhabitants left town in a hurry, I think that we would find better evidence of this upstairs, in private rooms. There isn't much in the common room of any inn that someone fleeing a catastrophe would deem important to survival. In fact, an inn probably isn't the best place at all to find that sort of evidence. The people staying here would have all their belongings in a small bundle or pack, so it would be only a short time for them to pack all they owned. I believe the most useful evidence will be found in private homes in the hamlet."

The Dervatear appeared pensive. "We should each step in an undisturbed area of dust or dirt so that Ethan will know our tracks. That might save some confusion later on." Looking to Ethan for confirmation, Hroknar walked over to an area devoid of tracks and carefully put first one foot in, followed by the other. He then stepped back so that the ranger could look them over.

Karissa cleared her throat noisily, catching the attention of the others. "In truth, I cannot fathom any proprietor letting such dust and filth accumulate whilst open for business. Since the tracks are visible in the dust, 'tis likely they were made after the inn - perchance e'en the hamlet - was abandoned, except for those tracks that Hroknar just made, or those made by Ysoltre in his earlier trek."

Rogmund growled something unintelligible, his face settling into a grim repose. "Looters then, or worse; maybe those responsible for the wrecked condition of the hamlet; maybe the reason why those who came to investigate the strange reports never returned to Narwich or Harginthorpe?"

"Mayhap wayfarers who became trapped in the village, hunted by Bowen's beast?" Karissa replied. "Lest Ethan and thee can bespeak whether or not each track was made at the same time, or whether such are the remains of visitors who walked hence o'er the span of several weeks."

Hroknar listened to Karissa's thoughts on what had happened, nodding his head. "Aye, these tracks could have been made since the people that lived here abandoned the place. But the dust is out of place. The innkeeper would not have allowed that amount of dirt and dust to invade his place of business, unless he or she were normally sloppy and cared not for his business."

He looked around the room and then continued, "I do not believe that we are going to find much here to help us. Let us continue to where friend Ysoltre found the evidence of a fight and see if anything can be determined there. But, as for the haste with which the hamlet was abandoned, I still feel that would be best answered in one of the private residences scattered throughout the burg. Or in the one place that seems untouched by whatever befell the place: the twin towers which stand to the south."

Ysoltre kept a silent watch out the door as Ethan glanced down at the footprints for a second time. "Well, it looks like there are footprints ontop of footprints, which leads me to believe that people have been coming in and out of here over a considerable span of time."

Seeing that the common room of the inn seemed to be but an abandoned chamber, the five wayfarers moved to the stairs; Hroknar leading, followed by Ethan, Rogmund, Karissa, and Ysoltre. Smudges in the dust were clearly evident on each step of the stairway leading upwards.

Before he moved up the stairs, Hroknar paused and made an "after you" gesture. Quietly, he asked Ethan, "Why don't you take the lead so you can look over these tracks? I'll be right behind you." He then adjusted his pack and switched from carrying his battle axe to carrying one of his throwing axes. He is holding his battle axe in his shield hand, intending to throw the one, then switching to his battleaxe.

"Oh, sure. Put the new guy up front," Ethan said jokingly to Hroknar as he comically nudged the Axemaster out of the way and took the lead. As he slowly ascended the stairway, his long bow and nocked arrow held firmly and at the ready, Ethan examined the smudges in the dust, hoping to discern who--or what--had made them. When the floor of the upper level became visible over the top step, Ethan crouched down slightly and raised his bow, pulling back on the oxhair bow string half-way. As he reached the top step, Ethan examined the floor of the upper level more carefully, as well as the hallway beyond. Before continuing on, Ethan glanced over his shoulder to make sure everyone else was ready for the unexpected--or as ready as they were ever going to be.

Rogmund said something to Karissa in a voice too soft for the others to hear. The armored swordsman then nodded to Ethan, providing the ranger with an indication he should proceed. Rogmund's feminine companion seemed more intent on visually surveying the nooks and crannies of the ground floor from her spot in the line, and so did not notice Ethan's gaze in her direction. Ysoltre shrugged a response to the ranger, indicating his willingness to proceed as well, then waited for the line to start moving again.

Ethan nodded his head. He turned back and glanced down the hall, taking in any visible doorways, windows, and whatnot. Slowly, the young ranger stepped up the last stair and onto the floor of the inn's upper level.

Three portals beckoned, one on either side about halfway down the corridor, the final one located directly opposite his current position, at the end of the hallway. None were secured by a closed door, and numerous smudges and paw prints seemed to indicate travel through all three areas.

Hroknar stuck close behind the woodsman, keeping his throwing axe at the ready. When Ethan took the final step up, Hroknar leaned in close and said, "I'll take the left hand doorway if you'll take the right. Or, switch positions with Rogmund and cover us while we make a quick visual check of each of the rooms."

Ethan glanced down at the Dervatear. "Maybe we should go one room at a time," he suggested. "Why not start with the left. You get the door and I'll cover you. Rogmund, you watch my back in the event that something jumps out of the door to the right."

Hroknar and Ethan moved forward furtively, even as Rogmund ascended the last step and positioned himself so that he might defend the backs of his fellows from sudden attack, his sword at ready. Dervatear and ranger reached the open doorway, their eyes widening a bit as they saw that the door itself had long ago departed its hinges. They peered inside. The chamber beyond was filled with dust and cobwebs. Strangely, the remains of broken and battered furniture was strewn about, as if the room had been the focus of some great natural disaster. As in the hallway, smudges and paw prints were clearly evident on the floor. Although the door itself was no longer on its hinges, neither could it be seen inside the room.

"Someone sure has something against the furniture in this place," Ethan said as he peered into the room. The ranger glanced down at Hroknar. "What do you think? Check this room out, or move on to the others?"

Hroknar took in the broken and battered remnants that littered the room. "Let's move on to the next. We can check for any contents later, once we have determined that nothing living and with evil intent gets behind us."

Ethan nodded his head in agreement, then turned and walked with Hroknar to the door across the hall. "These prints," Ethan said to the others, pointing to one of the paw prints on the floor of the hallway, "tell me of a hound standing some five feet at the shoulders, if my guess is correct. My mother . . . she doesn't stand five feet at the shoulders. I've got an uncle, Eryke - a smith by trade - that's not much taller than five feet. Hroknar, you could ride such a hound as though it was a horse, or a pony at the least." The young ranger glanced down at the paw print again, his brow furrowed slightly. "Big dog."

Hroknar thought that last bit over before replying, "Aye, your probably right, but I'll let you break the animal before I mount it."

Rogmund nodded to Karissa as he shifted his stance to guard against attack from the left door. The brunette backed down a step, whispering a condensed version of Ethan and Hroknar's actions to Ysoltre.

"Five feet, eh?" Ysoltre said. He stroked his chin, mentally judging the size of what Karissa had surmised might be a Yeth Hound. "I had a puppy once."

Giving Hroknar the go-ahead with a nod of his head, Ethan slipped the flight arrow back into its quiver and slung his long bow over his shoulder. Ethan then unsheathed his long sword, grasping it firmly in his right hand. In the same motion, the young ranger slipped his dagger free with his left hand, holding both weapons with obvious skill and expertise. "A long bow isn't going to do me much good if I'm jumped by a five-foot mutt," Ethan explained. "Now I'm ready, damn ready!"

Hroknar, his shield raised high and with axe at the ready, passed into the room. He glanced first left, then swept the room from left to right, ready to deflect any attack with his shield. Ethan mirrored the Dervatear's stance, the ranger's gaze moving from right to left, even as he could sense Rogmund moving to secure the doorway in a supportive position.

The chamber beyond appeared to be abandoned, although the companions saw visible evidence on the floor that the smudges and huge paw prints had entered and departed. A thick layer of dust also covered what few pieces of furniture remained, and a few mangy pelts remained hung on the wall, mounted on wooden backings as if they had once been trophies of some sort. Spider webs traversed the airy waste from a still intact cupboard to the window sill, the intricate, delicate design capturing the sunlight and making the whole seem a piece of artwork on nature's canvass.

"I see nothing obvious that might present a danger," Hroknar called out, moving further into the room as he did so.

Ethan was right behind the shorter warrior, the ranger's long sword held up firmly before him, while his dagger was kept low and to the left. Ethan positioned himself behind Hroknar and slightly to the left as they progressed.

"That's what scares me," Ethan replied as he knelt down suddenly, examining one of the paw prints on the floor more closely. He shook his head, an almost bewildered look on his face. "As I said before, big dog." Ethan rose and followed Hroknar as the former continued to move about, staying close to the Dervatear even as Rogmund stood - sword at ready - guarding both from his position by the entryway.

The ranger reached out with the hilt of his long sword and tapped his shorter companion's armored shoulder. "Should we give this room the once-over, friend Hroknar?"

Hroknar stood in the center of the room, studying the chamber's contents with great deliberation. He turned to Ethan and nodded toward the armoire set against the far wall. He moved carefully to the battered but still intact piece of furniture, as if the Dervatear feared the very floor might open up and swallow them all. Once in position, he gazed back to determine the supportive positions of Ethan and Rogmund. Then, with a sigh, Hroknar leaned his battle axe against his body and reached out with his open hand. He grasped the handle, and pulled the armoire door open. The Dervatear stepped back almost in the same movement - years of practice and a well-honed sense of caution rising to the fore - as his hand found his axe haft almost automatically. Nothing leaped out at him, the knowledge bringing with it a silent command for his heart to slow the involuntary increase in rhythm that had accompanied his opening the door.

The Dervatear risked a hesitant glance inside the armoire. Hroknar could see some type of bespeckled cloak or coat hanging from one of the interior pegs, and sundry items on one of the mostly empty side shelves. His attention was diverted however as Karissa's harsh whispered carried forth from the doorway. "Rogmund! I saw the shadows in the far chamber flutter and move through yon open portal."

The armored swordsman risked a glance in the woman's direction. Rogmund could see that Karissa had moved past the open entryway to stand on the far side from the stairs, her back to the wall, while Ysoltre had moved to stand as guardian of the nearer side, positioned so that he might peer inside the room at the activities of the three warriors.

"Wait," Ysoltre whispered before Rogmund could respond to his feminine compatriot. The minstrel's brow furrowed as his handsome face showed signs of deep concentration. After several seconds he said, "I thought I heard something; a scratching sound. It was faint; it could have been my imagination, but it sounded like it came from the front of the building."

Ysoltre's gaze shifted toward the Theavian as the minstrel shook his head. "With your shadows, Karissa, and my scratches, I am starting to get a bad feeling about this place, too." Ysoltre raised his voice slightly, enough for Hroknar and Ethan to hear him, "What did you find in there?"

"Karissa saw shadows move and Ysoltre heard strange scratching sounds from the front, outside," Rogmund whispered back, his head turning slightly as he glanced over his shoulder, on the off chance that Hroknar and Ethan had not heard everything that had been said.

"After the shadows, or investigate the scratches?" Ethan asked the Dervatear. "If you're asking me, though, I'd say the shadows, and we should be quick about it!"

Hroknar turned toward Ethan. "I would say shadows as well. But if that is the room that Ysoltre told us about, with the missing wall and nothing to protect it from the elements, I think that might be exactly what it is that Karissa saw...the elements, or the wind in this case. If there was anything left hanging in the room, like draperies or some sort of cloth, it might be moved by a breeze which could be what Karissa saw. I am more worried about the noise that Ysoltre heard. But, if I'm wrong and we go to investigate the noise first and the shadows are more sinister than mere wind, then we could be in for a bit of trouble. Let's check out the shadows first, since we are already up here, but let's keep a warrior at the rear of the party in case there is something sneaking up behind us."

Rogmund made to move out into the hallway, then paused at the entryway. "If there is trouble, we should take care to keep open all three of our retreat options: this damaged chamber Ysoltre spoke about at the end of the hallway, the stairways to the ground floor and front door, and this room, where we can go out the windows if necessary. Even if we can't retreat as a group, a few of us might be able to slip out and circle back, allowing us to outflank an enemy, provided that option appears viable."

Grasping his sword more firmly, Rogmund proceeded out into the hallway in support of his unarmored compatriots, Karissa and Ysoltre.

Hroknar turned and inspected the party, making certain that they were all ready to go. Rogmund had moved to act as rear guard, protecting the quintet from possible attack should the sounds heard by Ysoltre prove more than just some errant noise. Ethan had moved next to the Dervatear, placing Karissa and Ysoltre in the middle of the group. Satisfied that his compatriots were ready to go, Hroknar turned and led the way toward the room at the end of the hallway, the Dervatear keeping his shield up and his axe at the ready.

"Karuzdhen frudk!" bellowed forth a raspy, snarling cry from somewhere beyond the open entryway at the end of the hall.

An arrow flew forward, striking Hroknar's shield and bouncing away, even as a second feathered shaft followed a similar path to the first, penetrating Hroknar's protective disc so that the barbed head was clearly visible to the surprised but otherwise unharmed Dervatear. A third arrow exploded forth from the chamber beyond, barely missing Ethan's head and those of the ranger's compatriots who trailed behind him to careen harmlessly down the hallway.

Ysoltre instinctively clung to the wall as he watched the missile zip past, even as his hands sought and drew forth both dagger and cleaver.

"'Tis the darksome tongue of hobgoblins," Karissa called out, "denouncing Hroknar's lineage!"

Rogmund shifted his position to guard more fully against attack from the stairwell, as Ysoltre moved from the wall to his side. "Hroknar, Ethan!" the armored warrior shouted. "I'll hold the stairs if needed!"

Hroknar offered a quick, silent "thanks" to Celestial Tseld, the Dervatear's eyes fixed on the protruding barb of the arrow that had penetrated his shield. Then, his ire rising, Hroknar charged forward. "Everyone behind me!"

Ethan bent down slightly and followed in the Dervatear's wake, the ranger's long sword and dagger at the ready. "I'm on vacation," Ethan mumbled, even as he mimicked Hroknar's entry into the far chamber.

Axemaster and ranger had only a moment to ascertain the condition of the surroundings - a chamber larger than the other two rooms, devoid of all but a few pieces of mostly battered furniture, a gaping hole in one outside wall - then their opponents were on them. Four burly humanoids, each of which stood taller than Rogmund, shambled forward. Their hairy hides were a dark, reddish-brown. Their faces were of a hue the color of spilled blood, with glaring yellow eyes that stared forth beneath prominent brows. Each wore black leather armor. The two closest wielded wickedly barbed morningstars and carried shields. The two that moved more slowly were shouldering short bows, even as they sought to draw forth broad-bladed short swords from their scabbards.

Meanwhile, in the hallway evacuated moments before by the two adventurers, Rogmund and Ysoltre stood side by side, serving as the quintet's rear guard. Screams of bloodlust erupted forth from the common room below, then a burly hobgoblin wielding morningstar and shield and encased in black leather armor charged up the stairwell at the two figures. Two more of the hobgoblin's ilk could be seen behind the first, as could what seemed to be a cloaked, human-appearing figure in dark armor. New screams erupted forth from the humanoids as they charged up the staircase.

"I'll take the brunt," Rogmund said as he moved slightly in front of Ysoltre, just before the tall warrior let loose with a string of taunts, curses, and verbal abuse that seemed to infuriate the humanoids still further.

Ysoltre forced himself to study the situation in a calm manner, his long training in steadying nerves before a performance serving him well in this stead. 'The human-looking one might provide a peaceful means to end this conflict,' drifted forth the sudden thought.

As the minstrel put away both blade and cleaver, the foremost hobgoblin came within striking distance of Rogmund. The burly humanoid's charge slowed as it reached the apex, brought up sharply by the human warrior's position that forced the hobgoblin to remain perched precariously on the less certain footing of the stairwell. Ysoltre believed it was as Rogmund had planned.

The barbed morningstar slapped outward - meeting nothing but air as the tall human shifted his stance only slightly - then spun over in a crushing arc designed for a quick, merciless kill. Rogmund's long sword danced in a counterclockwise motion, striking the overly extended morningstar and deflecting it, then continuing on past the hobgoblin's too-slow positioning of its shield. Rogmund lunged forward, sending his blade slicing through protective leather armor to penetrate muscle, sinew, and bone.

Ysoltre could see a horrified look of surprise grow upon the hobgoblin, even as Rogmund shifted his weight again and kicked outward against his foe's shield, freeing his sword as the creature tumbled backward down the stairwell and straight into the two other hobgoblins rushing up the staircase.

The minstrel's stomach churned, his nerves suddenly threatening to dance out of control, despite his training. He had seen enough death in his time to understand the sudden shudder that assailed Rogmund's foe. The movement of the creature's limbs was caused solely by its fellows seeking to free themselves from the now-lifeless carcass that impeded their progress.

Arcane words sprang forth in Ysoltre's mind, each phrase and syllable emblazoned with a mental energy that burned as if with an inner flame. His hands and arms formed steady, rhythmic gestures even as a sing-song chant issued forth from the bard's lips. Ysoltre let slip the final vocal element, giving form to the mystical energy of his Charm Person spell, targeted at the dark-garbed figure who he assumed was the leader.

"Beware," Rogmund said, "our deceased foe's friends have freed themselves." The armored warrior stepped forward, seeking to offer his unarmored comrade greater protection. His sword wove an intricate dance of sharp metal, slashing this way and that as Rogmund sought to keep both of his enemies on the precarious footing of the stairwell. For their part, neither of the burly humanoids seemed able to mount a significant attack, their blows striking nothing but empty air as each sought to fight uphill.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ysoltre called out loudly to the human-looking figure below. "His majesty, King Durant de Angelosis, will be enraged when he hears that his party has been fired upon."

The dark-garbed figure's only response was to lift one arm and gesture slightly with the fingers of one hand. Four more hobgoblins emerged from somewhere behind the enigmatic presence. The "leader" pointed to the humans, the meaning being all-too-evident. Cries of bloodlust rose in cacophony as the newcomers surged forward, the "leader" on their heels.

"Trollbait," Rogmund called out, "we are being overwhelmed, seven in all in a rush!"

"Break their charge, then Red Raven!" Karissa answered, giving away her position as being nearer the entryway to the far chamber than the stairwell.

"Red Raven, Ysoltre, now!" Rogmund replied even as the bard drew forth his dagger and cleaver once again, seeking to support the armored warrior, though his comrade's position effectively shielded Ysoltre from engaging the enemy.


Within the far chamber, time seemed to slip away from Hroknar as he suddenly found himself with his friend and teacher, Trona-h'rar. They were deep within the confines of the warrens in a weapons chamber just off of the Great Hall. "Always look to your surroundings, my young apprentice," the master announced to the young Dervatear. "When in battle, you will not have the luxury of looking back over your shoulder to mark the location of chair, table, or even a hole in the floor. You'll have to rely on memory, like having a third eye that sees all. Everyone has this eye, but very few have learned to look with it. Develop this gift, and use it in tandem with its brother - improvisation, for together they may spell life when nothing but death abounds."

The memory disappeared as quickly as it had come. Hroknar charged forward. "Tseld's forge!" The Dervatear tried to ram the foremost hobgoblin with his shield, but succeeded only in smashing his protective disc into that of the burly humanoid. Both battle axe and morningstar sought to spill the life's blood of each combatant, but neither managed to bludgeon its way past the defensive counterstrokes and posture of its opposite.

Ethan settled into a defensive position protecting Hroknar's back. The second hobgoblin wielding morningstar and shield shambled forward, striking out a crushing blow as he did so. The human ranger jumped to one side, the blow missing his head by scant inches even as Ethan recognized that he was not going to be able to guard his companion's back in any truly effective manner.

A surge of adrenaline - Ethan refused to acknowledge it as the onset of panic - sent him dancing forward. "Don't you know attacking a Dervatear's family only pisses him off?" He feinted with his dagger, then brought his long sword up and over in an arc toward his opponent's head. Metal rang on metal as the hobgoblin's shield rose and interposed itself, leaving its wielder unharmed. Stroke and counterstroke followed, to no avail for either opponent.

Unintelligible though fierce-sounding cries filled the air. The two hobgoblin archers had shouldered their bows and drawn forth their swords as they charged forward. There seemed to be little regard for battle tactics in their actions though, for they both attacked Hroknar, the foe nearest to them. Fortunately for the Axemaster Initiate, three uncoordinated attacks against his shorter stature seemed to protect him as well as any shield.

Ethan's eyes strayed quickly to the door. None of his fellows had entered the chamber behind the hard-charging Dervatear and himself, leaving he and Hroknar outnumbered two-to-one. "I pray that those screams in the hallway were not Rogmund being cut down by another band of hobgoblins." More screams issued forth from the hallway suddenly, as well as something vague that appeared to have been said in the King's Tongue.

"Break their charge, then Red Raven!" drifted forth Karissa's voice, from somewhere not too far removed from the entryway to the chamber. Her command seemed to bring forth some sort of reply, but as to the exact words, it was impossible to discern given the omnipresent noise both within the chamber and from the hallway.


"I hope Hroknar and Ethan cleared the room," Ysoltre mumbled as he turned and began to sprint down the hallway, only to pause as he peered over one shoulder to ensure that his companion followed. The minstrel could see Rogmund engage the two foremost hobgoblins. The tall human's sword slashed out to nearly decapitate one foe, then slid up and back to fend off a series of blows from the second before that wretch too fell before the armored archer's expert blade work. Both lifeless bodies fell back down the stairwell, apparently impeding the progress of the dark-garbed "leader" and his minions given the vocal vehemence of the otherwise unintelligible grunts and curses.

"Hurry!" Ysoltre called out, stopping momentarily until he could clearly see that Rogmund - bloody sword in hand - had turned and raced after him. The minstrel stepped up his own pace, running toward the entryway to the far chamber, near which stood Karissa, one hand dipping into her belt pouch. "Their leader looks to be human, clad in black armor!" Ysoltre said. "His will is too strong for my enchantment!"

"Stay out of her way, Ysoltre!" Rogmund called out, altering his sprint to move along the far wall, even as his eyes widened at the multi-colored powder the woman had drawn forth from her pouch. "They're rushing the stairs, Trollbait!"

They poured forth like the rush of water from a shattered dam; four hobgoblins, their mouths slobbering viscous drool, and the tall, gaunt, dark-armored figure who apparently commanded them.

Ysoltre slipped past Karissa. Rogmund was only a few strides behind as the woman's hands rose and began to gesticulate in intricate, rhythmic patterns, even as strange words issued forth from the brunette's lips. Karissa's eyes were hard and cold and merciless as they stared at those who followed in her companions' wake. A brilliant, intense mosaic of clashing color erupted from the Theavian's hands, exploding in a blinding flash of luminescence that was painful even to those not caught in its area of effect.

Screams of bloodlust gave way instantly to cries of anguish, then sudden silence. All four hobgoblins dropped to the floor, stunned, unmoving, and apparently unconscious. Strangest of all was the dark-armored "man," whose pupil-less eyes widened as his mouth opened in a scream that produced no audible sound. The figure's flesh seemed to fold in upon itself, then, like a puff of smoke carried adrift on some breeze, simply dissipated. Armor, boots, and billowing cloak fell to the ground, unsupported by any semblance of a physical body. Ysoltre's eyes widened at the sight, though a sound caused him to shift his attention to the chamber that now lay only a few feet away through the nearby entryway.

Hroknar kept his shield held high as one hobgoblin foe rang blow after blow upon the battered disc, as if the creature's barbed morningstar might bludgeon its way past to strike down the Dervatear. The Axemaster Initiate's weapon of choice slipped outward, catching a second hobgoblin - this one wielding a short sword - with a wicked slice across the midsection. Blood flowed freely, though the wound was not fatal. A third nemesis offered up a half-hearted blow against Hroknar, then suddenly switched targets, attacking Ethan who was already engaged with a foe of his own.

The young ranger's sword leaped outward, a thrusting feint that took his original opponent into the newcomer's line of attack. The hobgoblin hesitated, startled. Ethan's dagger shot forward, drawing blood. The creature howled, and was joined a second later by its brethren. Ethan backed up, sword and dagger seeking to fend off attacks by morningstar and sword. "Two for the price of one; a bargain only when haggling at the marketplace."

A gurgling scream filled the air as a hobgoblin died, sword dropping from its grasp as Hroknar's axe nearly split the smelly brute in half. With one foe dispatched, the Dervatear wasted little time, stepping up the pace of each strike to smite his remaining opponent once, twice, three times fully upon the shield. The hobgoblin's morningstar arced forward, a blow that could have smashed the back of a bear had it connected. Hroknar danced aside, then stepped forward before his foe could recover. A moment later, the barbed morningstar lay still, clutched in a lifeless hand that once had wielded the weapon so effectively.

"I could . . . use some help . . . help here!" Ethan managed to blurt out as he engaged his two opponents. Each hobgoblin was taller than he, and possessed far more stalwart builds. Ethan was able to use his greater agility and speed to fend off their attacks, but seemed unable to find any significant opening that might bring him a quick and much-desired victory.

"Gulhirrim sprecht!" Hroknar's scream filled the air as he rushed forward. The hobgoblin nearest to the charging Dervatear tried to disengage itself from Ethan's flashing swordplay, succeeding only in exposing its side to the ranger's blade, which bit deep. The creature howled, its attention drawn back to the human momentarily, a fatal misstep as Hroknar brought his axe around and down in an overhand motion, nearly cleaving the hobgoblin in two. A moment later, the humanoid's last companion lay just as dead, the victim of Ethan's feint with his dagger, then all-too-real thrust with his long sword.

Ysoltre, much more interested in the display of magic Karissa had invoked than the gory display his companions had inflicted on their foes, placed his back against the wall, looking first into the chamber, then back into the hallway, his dagger and cleaver clutched in either hand. 'Is it finished?' the minstrel wondered, certain that his stomach would retch forth breakfast at any moment in response to the bloody carnage the group had wrought.

"Those four must be bound 'ere they wake," Karissa said matter-of-factly, nodding toward the four hobgoblins who lay sprawled in the corridor. One hand reached out for the nearby wall, allowing the obviously flushed woman to steady herself.

Rogmund stepped closer. "How bad, Trollbait?"

"I-I am well, or shall be, momentarily," Karissa replied in a soft voice. She took a deep breath, exhaling the air slowly through pursed lips, violet eyes fixed on her handiwork.

The armored swordsman nodded, then moved quickly down the hallway. "Ysoltre," Rogmund said loudly, "help me secure our 'friends' with their belts while they lay unconscious. Trollbait can keep vigil, and call out a warning should we require it."



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