Two horsemen ride up to a tavern...

Marianne looks up, startled. Her expression turns hard. "Nothing," she says. "I told you not to worry about it."

"I know." He doesn't move, watching her face change. "But I'm always awake, and it's the first lead I've had in years."

"Ascian, listen to me," she says, all pretense of civility gone from her tone. "This isn't a lead. I need you to trust me. You're better off not knowing what this is."

"It's something,"  he replies flatly.  "Or you wouldn't have asked."  Nevertheless, even in his tired mind he's able to note the sharp change in her demeanor and sags slightly.  "Wouldn't you want to know. If it was you." 

Marianne turns back to her work. "I'm sorry, Ascian. Some knowledge is a gift. And some knowledge is a burden. You've enough to burden yourself with." Her shoulders slump, and she stands up, leading Ascian across the room to a map that hangs on the wall -- a map of the continent and surrounding islands. "Look at this map and tell me what you see."

Ascian follows her at a withdrawn distance, looking in bemusement from her to the map, clearly expecting a trick.  "Teydun,"  he says at last.  "Hol." It occurs to him after a moment that that, like everything else appears to be, may be subjective, and he looks back at her with distinct uncertainty.  "Is that not right."

Marianne shakes her head, staring for a moment longer at the map. "No, that's right. Let this Daerheim business go. And I must ask you not to speak with your companions about it. You really must leave it alone."

The sinking sensation dips lower and he can't help but feel he had missed something, or worse, failed a test. He gives her a long look before nodding in dismay. "Alright." Distantly he thinks it would be impossible to stop thinking about entirely – and thinks she probably knows that too – but it seems important to drop, and not something that can be further pushed. Instead, after another lingering glance spared at the map, he looks at the shelves, gesturing abstractly. "What about Shadowfell? Can I read about that."

Katrin rises early, moving quietly so as not to wake Rose, who is snoring gently under a pile of blankets, her red hair splayed out on the pillow. Rather than take time with her appearance, Katrin dresses simply, belting her axe around her waist, leaving the sword where it sets against the wall. She pulls her hair behind her, tying it off with a short piece of twine. She sits on the edge of the bed and brushes Rose's hair from her face. "I'm going to get an early start. I'll be at Miller's place. I need his forge." She leans over to plant a kiss on her forehead. Rose brings her hand up, curling it around Katrin's neck.  "Mmm, okay," Rose murmurs sleepily. "I'll stop by sometime. I'll bring breakfast."  Katrin smiles, then stands up, leaving the farmhouse for Miller's forge. She stops by the cart stabled at the Fireblade, gathering up the armor she'd taken from Gesrik's brother, then comes up to the house. Bypassing the front door, she moves to the back, where she can already hear the sounds of Miller busy at his forge. Rounding the corner, she sets down the armor. "Hey Miller. I need to borrow your forge." 

Marianne's friendly demeanor returns.  "I'm afraid not much has been written about this plane's Shadowfell. But the Shadowfell in both Toril and Exandria has been extensively documented. Let me see what I have on those." Marianne quickly finds a tome and some hastily written notes on the Planes of Shadow linked to the prime material planes of Toril and Exandria. Toril's Shadowfell is a dark and dismal place of death, where gods of death and shadow lurk. Exandria's Shadowfell seems to be a battlefield in a war fought between soldiers of the true gods of that world and their betrayers. Neither place sounds terribly pleasant, but neither sounds like the dark reflection that Ascian so often finds himself in. Miller pushes back his trilby hat and scratches his temple. "Alright, Miss Katrin. I'm not using it. Feel free." Katrin makes good time in resizing the armor. By the end of the day, the suit has been formed from hobgoblin-sized down to dwarf-sized. Once the metal has cooled, she polishes it, making sure it gleams.  Callahan spends his day down with Marianne, Thrandimir, and Ascian, reading about the arcane. The book the sorceress recommended him,  Arcanum 101: The Introduction to the Weave , written by some wizard from Greyhawk named Otiluk, seems overly pedantic at times. But the firbolg gains some good knowledge from the tome. Kaed purchases several bales of hay, fence posts, and burlap sacks and makes some training dummies. By the end of the day, the Karnathi tribesman is sore and the targets are largely destroyed, but he feels confident in his progress as a warrior. The day ends and the grey clouds once again break to drop a light rain on the sleepy village. Rose tells Katrin that she has to help her father with some evening choring. When Katrin offers to help, Rose smiles and says,  "Go be with your new friends."  Had it been anyone else, Katrin may have thought the phrase "new friends" was derisive. But coming from Rose, it's sincere.  The group convenes in the tavern for a well-earned dinner. 

The tavern is bustling, it's usual din elevated several notches . In the back of the bar there's a crowd of patrons playing a spirited game of dice. The mob alternating between booming groans and cheers, and at it's center is a Silver Dragonborn. The man stands a head taller than most of the other patrons, his large frame nearly dwarfing the nearby gamblers. The being's snout making an approximation of a smile as he alternates between exciting the crowd letting it's energy wash over him. The tavern's light reflects off his deep silver scales, as he tosses the dice and laughs with the other revelers.  As the party enters the tavern, one of the patrons taps him on the shoulder and points to the group. His smile remains though his eyes grow cold. Throwing the dice one last time, he shrugs his shoulders at the loss and flips a  coin onto the table as he walks away. Gathering his mug he strides towards the new comers table. Anxiety and hope grip him as he walks over. His dreams had become increasingly intense, driving him against all reason to Fireblade. Before beginning his journey to the village it had been nearly a month since he had known any rest. But if he was right this was his path to absolution. Taking a deep swig of his mug as he saunters over to the table,  and says in a gravelly yet friendly voice  "I have heard nothing but tales of your glory, ever since I've set foot in this village." Waiving the waitress over he says "Please bring another around for the heroes." Placing his armored hand on chest    "My name is Akiran, I would be honored to share a drink and hear the tales of your triumphs." Smiling as he looks at each of the party members in turn, though once he reaches Katrin he nearly flinches. Turning away as soon as he sees that wretched symbol around her neck.

Callahan sits at the dinner table lost in his own thoughts, as had become usual for him of late. He knew what he was planning was the right call, but that didn't make it any easier, though. The sound of the dragonborn's voice brings him back to the present, however, and he beams up at the man. His eyes immediately catch on the shining armor, widening at its pristine bands and swirling inlays of metal that adorn the cuirass.  The firbolg hurriedly rises from his seat, knocking his milk and mead over, though fortunately it was mostly empty. "Well met, Sir!"  he nods, "I don't know about all that but it's an honor myself to meet a knight of obvious honor such as yourself! Gosh that armor sure is pretty. I'm Callahan, pull up a chair, dontchaknow!"

Katrin leans back in her chair, taking a sip of her ale as the dragonborn flinches from her, his eyes fixed on her chest. She glances down, to the symbol she wore there. As quickly as he'd turned to her, he turns away, resolutely avoiding her eyes as he addresses the table. She takes another drink, her eyes growing dark as she reflects on his reaction.     

Ravenous after the intense day of study, Thrandimir is digging into his meal with enthusiasm when Akiran approaches the table. "Why, thank you!" He declares, not yet paying proper attention to who is buying them drinks.

Akiran's smile reaches his eyes as Callahan compliments his armor. His armor was by far his most prized possession. The intricate patterns, gleaming silver overlays,  and well polished chain had taken him months and quite a bit of gold to properly forge. Pushing his grey and silver cloak behind him he quickly takes a seat and excitedly says  "You honor me Callahan. I made this armor myself, though I am no knight. Merely a wanderer in search of fortune and if luck has it glory. Though I hear you and your friends are covering yourselves in the latter.""

Cal looks down and gives an uncomfortable laugh. "That's... generous but not exactly how I'd describe it. We've definitely been attempting to do some good, but, well, that  isn't something that ever really crossed my mind, y'know?"  He sits back down and reaches for his mug, taking a sip of the last bits of milk and mead that remained after knocking most of it over. The idea of glory had never really occurred to him when this started. Was that something they were actually earning - let alone getting covered in? The only thing he recalled getting covered in was mud. He stole a glance up at the dragonborn, noting once more the almost impossibly  impeccable sheen of the armor. Perhaps to a guy like that, those two things wouldn't be all that different. He sighed, letting the warm liquid slide down with a heavy gulp as he looked around the table for someone else to say something.

"So," Katrin leans forward, placing her elbows on the table, her hands and arms dark with soot from working the forge all day. "Made that yourself, did you?" She gestures at the armor with her cup, taking another swallow.  "You a blacksmith?" 

Akiran takes a long pull from his mug, setting it down a bit roughly with a cheery laugh, Looking to the Firbolg  "Mister Callahan, you are denying yourself one of life's true pleasures. Half the fun of doing "some good" is the story you can tell after you have finished. I'm telling you there is little in life better, than entertaining a crowd with your glorious adventures, as you enjoy a good drink."  Looking at the entire group  "And from what I've heard you lot have some stories to tell." Akiran answers Katrin's question though a bit less animated than before. In a friendly tone he says "I am. I've forged most of my own gear." gesturing to the dark grey round shield with maze like silver etchings on it's face, and the ornate black and silver pommel of his broadsword resting against the table. "I can be a bit particular when it comes to my possessions, so I've always found it best to forge any equipment myself when possible." Noticing that her arms are covered in soot,  he adds "But of course you would understand! It appears I am speaking to a fellow smith." Leaning in, he looks at Katrin, meeting her eyes while keeping the holy symbol out of his sightline. Akiran asks   "What have you forged today? I always enjoy seeing a fellow smith's creations."

Katrin sets her mug on the table, a faint smile on her face as she meets the silver dragonborn's eyes. "I needed to resize a bit of armor I came into possession of. Half-Plate. Took it off a crisp hobgoblin a couple days back." She reaches for her belt, pulling out her battleaxe, the handle carved and decorated with silver inlay, and the head itself dark, polished steel. "This I forged through....rather unorthodox means. Learned from my father. Finest blacksmith Hol has ever seen."  She lays the axe on the table, watching Akiran's face closely.

Akiran's hand absentmindedly goes to his chest at the mention of the crispy hobgoblin. With a soft chuckle he adds "Ah I'm sure that there is a grand tale behind that." Though he quickly changes the subject once she lays the axe on the table, whistling appreciatively as he gazes at the weapon. "This is very well made.  The apple clearly hasn't fallen far from the tree."  

She picks the axe up, hefting it in her hand, the bearded blade flashing in the candlelight. "You could say that." She slips it back into her belt and picks up her cup again. 

Kaed drains his drink and loudly places the cup back on the table , "I have to say, I had thought glory and fame would have come with more free drinks, but then the day isn't completely saved yet." He looks across at the dragonborn smiling, "Well met, I am Kaed, I am impressed with both of your skills of the forge, my people do not excel in metalwork, we do not mine and so it is something of a luxury. You two would look like Knights of legend to my tribe." He gestures to the spear and shield leaning against the nearby wall. "As you can see not a lot of metal for me,,except my blade, but I can still admire your skills." He breaks off looking to catch the eye of one of the servers, " Who wants another drink? Cal, you can have another if you promise not to spill it this tim e."

The door to the tavern slams open, revealing a breathless farmer, leaning on a pitchfork with a lit torch in the other hand. Through his panting, one word leaves his lips.  "Orcs!"

Katrin shoots to her feet, her cup clattering to the floor, spilling the remaining ale. Her battleaxe is already in her hand. "Where."

The farmer's cry rings out just as the freshly brewed mug of milkmead reaches Cal's lips. Immediately the liquid sprays outward over the table as he reels back in shock, leaping to his feet and stumbling backwards over his own pouch nestled neatly in the nook between the chair and the wall behind him. " Again!? "  

The farmer points west. As Katrin looks out the windows that way, she can see the faint red of burning farm houses. A sharp crack and a light hum  fills the tavern as the sword on the wall breaks out of its wooden housings and flies into Na'arik's outstretched hand. The blade glows and crackles, sparking to fiery life. He looks at the party. "This is the part where I ask for your help again."

Katrin hefts her axe, her eyes going hard with determination. "You never had to ask." She turns, and runs out the front door, towards the fires. Towards Rose.  

Akiran downs the last of his stout, disappointed that he wasn't able to take Kaed up on his offer of another. Watching as the others eagerly prepare to throw themselves into the fight.  Akiran eventually stands to his feet,  taking a moment to secure is shield and check that the rest of his equipment was prepared. Looking up as the bartender asks his tablemates for help. Akiran debates whether it would be poor form to ask for pay, or at the very least another drink. But abandons the thought  as the man's blade ignites with a fiery glow. Suppressing a sigh, it looks like today he is a free-sword.  Looking to the group he says with a predatory smile "It looks like glory has found us. Let us forge a new story!"

The party and their newfound dragonborn companion charge down the hill into the night. The fires burn on several nearby farmhouses. Much to Katrin's relief, Rose's house is untouched, for now. Residents of the village rush past them, heading the other way. Katrin catches a flash of Rose and Wendell running by. To the east, the party can hear the turmoil of soldiers being rushed to alarm, but it appears their response will be late. It isn't a very long before they see orcs. A large warband is moving toward an already burning house, likely targeting the grain stores behind the building. The two parties see each other, and begin moving to meet one another in battle.

Thrandimir's reaches out and his staff flies to his hand, light blossoming from the top to illuminate the night like a beacon as the wizard steps outside, his mouth set in a dark frown. Keeping pace, Thrandimir lets the warriors take the lead.

Stealing forward into the dark, Ascian lowers the lenses that let him pierce the gloom onto his face and all but melds into the large boulder some fifteen feet ahead of him. Peering around the edge, he levels his bow and pulls back an arrow to loose it into the night, watching the fletching make hard impact with what appears to be an orc priest's armor. 

The orc that is seemingly the leader of the warband steps forward with a guttural war cry. He throws a lit torch on top of the already burning farmhouse and shouts in orcish. Then he charges toward the party, spittle flying from his still-shouting mouth. It charges Kaed, ignoring Ascian. The newcomer dragonborn attempts to interrupt the orc's attack, but the orc is too quick and pushes his blade away. The orc's greataxe slams down on Kaed's shield twice, leaving the barbarian shaken. Kaed takes 15 and 9 points of slashing damage to vigor, parried to 7 and 9, reduced to 3 and 5 by DR. The priest's shield begins to glow and a ethereal spear materializes next to Ascian. The rogue is too quick and the spear sends sparks across the stone, missing Ascian entirely. The priest moves up to the stone wall and takes cover. Katrin's action.

Katrin ducks back as the orc leader rushes up to strike Kaed. She emerges from behind her larger companions to see a large group of orcs rushing towards them. Her eyes burn like hot coals, and she conjures up Tempus' fiery hammer, bringing it down on the priest on the other side of the stone wall. 

Growling as the orc blocks his first attack, Akiran shifts his fighting stance. His blade held high with his shield in front of him. Lunging towards the Orc he slams the broadsword down cutting into the orc with a red burst splashing out of his armor as the blade passes through. As the blow lands he puts his foot behind  the man and attempts to bowl the orc over. But though the chief stumbles he is able to keep his footing. Akiran attempts to headbutt the warrior before disengaging but the orc dodges the blow. Akiran then drives his knee into the man's stomach but the man's chainmail absorbs the blow.

The orc cleric charges in, chanting in the orcish language. The darkness at the edges of Katrin's vision grows darker and spreads, melding across her sight into a uniform darkness. The orc's magic has made her blind. The rest of the orc warband charges in, greataxes swinging. Akiran takes a particularly devastating blow, but shakes it off, only bleeding from a cut in his arm. Akiran takes 23 points of slashing damage to vigor and 2 points to wounds, parried to 20, and reduced to 14 by DR. Kaed takes 11 points of slashing damage to vigor, reduced to 7 by DR. Katrin takes 5 points of slashing damage to vigor, reduced to 1 by DR. Kaed's action.

Snarling at the orc leader Kaed feels the cold creep into his flesh and the icy focus descend on him. Feeling faster and more alert he swings at the orc, his balance still a little off after receiving the initial charge and his strike is dampened by the chainmail armour, he feels a smack against his back as the orc tangling with Akiran lunges at him as he weaves about.

The image of Thrandimir between the orcs and Callahan flickers and vanishes as though he was never there. Thirty feet back, the wizard swims into view, levelling his staff at the orc that Kaed is attacking. Insidious whispers leave the old man's mouth - a psychic enchantment to distract his foe.

Taking advantage of the opportunity Thrandimir had presented him with, Cal sends a blast of energy into an orc to the north of him, its light piercing the darkness of the night just brief enough to give itself away at the exact moment it made contact. The orc isn't given time to process it though, as a brilliant swirl of radiance blossoms up from nowhere, bathing the area around Cal in dim light. To the orc he'd hit, there'd be just enough time to recognize the form an archer, bow fully drawn, before its blitzing arrow bursts forth at breakneck speed to cut through the air and burrow itself into his chest.

As Callahan's radiant bolts light up the surrounding hills, another figure can be seen moving down from the same direction the orcs came from: a powerful looking orc warrior with a greatsword slung over her shoulder.

As orcs close in and the spiritual weapon swings near him, Ascian makes the executive decision to remove himself. Twisting away from the fighters that flank him, he sprints between Kaed and Katrin, feeling the increasingly-familiar wisps of smoke peel from his skin and spearhead towards the leader threatening Kaed and their new dragonborn friend. Once he's some twenty feet past the front line into the semidark, he wheels back around, leveling his bow toward the same orc he'd just shot and daring it to move.

The warchief continues his battlecry and brings his axe smashing down toward Akiran, who only just manages to step out of the way. Kaed takes advantage of the warchief's intensity to slip away from the attack that comes next, directed at him. Ascian takes advantage as well, sending an arrow slicing across the orc's arm. Akiran takes 16 points of slashing damage to vigor, reduced to 10 by DR. The priest's spiritual weapon pursues Ascian for a moment, but finds a better target in the blinded Katrin. It pierces downward, and the blind dwarf only just turns so it impacts her armor. Katrin takes 7 points of force damage to vigor, reduced to 3 by DR. Then the priest steps forward, praying in the orcish tongue. A glow alights in the warchief's eyes, as well as in two of the other orcs. Katrin's action.

Katrin grits her teeth as the world goes dark, stumbling slightly as she's struck by a weapon she cannot see. She stamps her foot on the ground in frustration, and a wave of radiant light bursts out from her in a small shockwave. At the same time, the Hammer of Tempus strikes at the orc nearest it, but whistles cleanly past his head. Frustration overwhelms her, and her vision returns. She sees an orc before her, and the magical spear floating next to it. 

As a line of his own blood slowly runs down his chest, blemishing his armor. Akiran starts to wonder if he made a mistake, his first thought is to flee. He doesn't owe this village or it's people anything. But a quick look at the battlefield reveals that running will get him killed. Slapping his arm he roars out regaining his breath and stopping the bleeding through sheer will. Locking eyes with the Orc he works in concert with Kaed slashing down with two overhead swings with his broadsword. The orc blocks both but fatigue is clearly beginning to set in. As a parting gift, Akiran leans his head back and smashes one of his horns into the mans face. Before shifting back into his fighting stance.

The orc cleric moves back, praying again and glowering at Katrin for breaking her spell. She begins conjuring a new one that takes hold only in Akiran, who feels his muscles begin to move more sluggishly. His mind feels slow, and he begins to have trouble focusing as the magic clouds his thoughts.

As the battle heats up, a lone figure strides forth in the distance, enshrouded in the dark of dusk and the wisps of smoke cascading off the burning rooftops. Across her back a long sheet of darkened, forged-steel sits slung and waiting as each step brings her closer. To those watching, the figure appears to grow larger with each step taken as she approaches. What may have been a trick of the fire's light is quickly revealed to be nothing of the sort as she reaches the priest and cleric that make up the orc's back line. By the time she does she's near doubled in size, looming over the three. Her long, braided locs, each decorated in a series of colorful bands and tassels, blow gently in the cool night breeze as she quickly reaches the priest, barely breaking stride. She lets out a slight grunt as she hefts the ebony blade off her shoulders and readies it before the orcs. " Out of my way!"  her voice, in a harsh Orc dialect, bellows with a deep ring as the sword plummets through the air, carving a sharp blow across the back of the orc priest, as she switches to common,  "I want to see the blood drain from Gûg's body when these small humans kill him." Two long tusks poke up over her lip as she grins, locking eyes across the way towards the group of warriors and affixing firmly to the surrounded orc leader.

One of the orcs falls back to attack the new orc giantess in the field, giving Akiran a chance to get a good cut across the orc's hide armor. Another volley of greataxe blows harries the party, including the newcomer. Kaed takes 7 points of slashing damage to vigor, reduced to 3 by DR, resisted to 1 by barbarian rage. Katrin takes 5 points of slashing damage to vigor, reduced to 1 by DR. Thezra comes under attack by two orcs. She parries the axe of one, her enlarged sword cutting clean through the orc's flesh, sending him sprawling to the ground, bleeding profusely. The other orc uses the opportunity to score a glancing blow across her chainmail. Thezra takes 14 points of slashing damage to vigor, reduced to 8 by DR. Kaed's action.

Blows raining in from all sides Kaed decides to try and cut the head from the snake, locking eyes with the burly leader of the orcs, he lunges forward, much more fluently than previously - his shield smashing the orc's head back, the blade flashes in the firelight nicking the brute across the face, the cold from his blade freezing the wound as soon as the blood starts to flow. "You are going to die here, we will defend these people no matter how many of you come."

Thrandimir sidesteps, circling the melee, his eyes drawn to the enemy spellcaster on the far side. Continuing to whisper, the wizard's incantations turn to those of arcane evocation and three bolts of pale blue energy streak across the battlefield, buffeting the Orcish cleric.

Cal lines up another series of shots that blast into the orcish cleric in a flurry and spectacle of radiant light.

Seeing the leader bearing down brutally on Kaed and their new companion, Ascian doesn't hesitate before leveling his bow and loosing another arrow deep into the orc's back.