this forum's W&W own storyline

[Sazerac]

. . .the old Crypt of Bersault," the sage continued. "I will contact you there via telepathy, and will then appear when the party is assembled."

Laurel nodded, and after radiating thanks and her farewell message, she disconnected the telepathic link and came slowly back to waking consciousness. Shaking her head, she returned toward the village.

Carefully, the warlock who had been concealed in the shadows flicked the last remnants of his firestick to the ground, then carefully trod on the remains. He shook his head, and sighed deeply. He had overheard much of the conversation between the young Dael and Wylie, and had already witnessed much backbiting among the potential recruits. Laurel was a wildcard, as far as he could tell. He wanted to trust her, but could he . . . or any of them? Monyka was a bad egg, although no one except he and possibly Adam could see it. She bore watching, and that carefully. Was Laurel the same, though? And so far none of the recruits had shown the loyalty and team spirit they would be needing for this journey.

Sazerac shook his head again. "Sacred thunder," he swore. "The Dark One won't need to destroy them; they'll destroy themselves for him."

He gathered his bag and, concentrating deeply, cast some of his magical stones onto the groud. "Perdu, the lost," he mused, "close to Ramthyr, portent of Treachery and backstabbing. Overhead is Wyr, the Void; the Great Unknown. Damnall, if only it were clearer!"

He shook his head a final time, gathered up the stones, and headed back the short distance to Valeia. Passing through the gates, he made his way back to the Inn in the growing shadows. As Gareth had done the night before, he pounded on one of the doors.

"Adam," Sazerac said, "I must talk with you immediately. This is urgent. You must know . . ."

[Wyvern]

(that Sazerac really knows how to tell a tale!!!)



....

“… I have some serious doubts about this Monyka. I’ve sensed in her some ulterior motive, and the stones proved my feelings true. There seems to be a certain… darkness about her. And this Laurel. What of her? I cannot seem to sense anything about her- it seems a power as great or even greater than my own lies about her.”
Adam looked up from his ale at Sazerac. The warlock wore concern like a mask over his normally smirking face. “Do you think there is a problem? I mean, we can just choose not to take them with us. Not like we have a shortage of applicants or anything,” he added with a grin.
“Adam, I think its more than just a matter of choosing a party to find some obscure quest. I was wondering, what could be so important that it could only be accomplished in three days? Or if there was, why has word not reached Valeia? Surely Sir Elgar would have let us know if there was an imminent threat that we had only days left to resolve.”
“Well, I guess so… but maybe its just red tape? You know how Elgar gets. Every single little piffling rule in the book has to be obeyed. Like last year, when that dragon was going to roast the town in ten minutes but before he can authorize a party to go out and fight it we need the signatures of all seven village elders, the consent of the guildmasters, five skulls from the graveyard and a flaming partridge in a pear tree. I think if Ditka hadn’t discovered that the dragon just had a hangover and given him an ale we would’ve been in serious trouble.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. However, I still think it would be a good idea to check with Sir Elgar before we make any decisions.” Sazerac glanced around the room, and spotted Wylie and Dael at a dark table in the corner. “Hmm. Its those two again. I overheard them talking earlier on today,” he said, getting Adam’s attention off of the waitress bringing him another ale, “about the rogue, Kitten. The Whiska believes that Kitten is so undisciplined that she would be a threat to our safety. I agree with her, but then she began talking about perhaps even sabotaging Kitten to keep her out of the party. I am not sure what to think. It could be well meaning, but… I’m not sure.”
“I dunno… she seems decent with a sword. A bit of training, she might become a samurai. Aren’t they supposed to have all this honor and rules? I’ve always thought that sabotage was more a ninja’s style.”
“Perhaps… But if we take her word and not include Kitten, we are out a rogue. And, as you know, these places are bound to be filled with traps.”
“Isn’t Ditka a barbarian? Don’t they know about traps?”
The two shared a mental image of Ditka looking at a treasure chest and tinkering with its lock. “Damn thing! Work!”
“No.” They said in unison.
Sazerac grins. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, we’re still in this problem.”

Dael gets up from his table and walks drunkenly over to a rich-looking patron. He clumsily runs into the man’s legs, tripping the merchant and sending his money pouch flying. “Oh, nosir! Lemme help ya up.”
“Why you clumsy little fool! I could have broken my neck!”
“Very sorry, very sorry. Here, lemme buy ya an ale.” Dael sets up the bruised merchant at the bar and plunks down the gold for an ale. The merchant, rubbing his backside, gets the bartender’s attention and orders the ale. Meanwhile, Dael has made off with the merchant’s money pouch- a good deal more than the cost of an ale. He scampers his way back to the shadowed table, opens up the money pouch and starts counting it with a grin on his face. Wylie looks at Dael disapprovingly and mutters something Sazerac can’t quite overhear.

Sazerac, who has been quietly observing all of this, looks back at Adam. “What do you know about that gnome?”
“Well, lets see. He came in with the Whiska, apparently for the tryouts. Hmm. He never did get a chance to try out… I don’t know what he claims to be able to do.”
“Hmm. We may have another viable rogue here. What I need to know, however, is…”

[Raistlin]

Meanwhile Raistlin was out in the marshes on the east of Ishad Na. He looked a fine sight with his mishappen Wizards hat and muttering into his beard. "Stupid Priest" he thought, "Imagine charging someone to cure them of Poison? next time I see one of those bloody Mantrips I'll make sure I'll have a few Flamestrikes handy" Just as he was thinking this he felt the tingling sensation he got whenever one of Kerah's agents were in contact with their "Familiars" "That was Wyvern" he mused, "one of the best, i hope she warns someone about that Elven Princess" As he was thinking this he went back to the first time he was contacted by Kerah. He was trying to become a memeber of the serpent cult, when happened upon Kohl who told him about that hidden Chamber. He remembered Kerah telling him to go seek THe one who is called "The Crown of Leaves", only then will his destiny be revealled. Why do these angels allways talk in riddles?" he wondered. just then Raistlin tripped and nearly fell head first into the mouth of the forrest Spider........

The door opens, and a tall, thin stranger walks in ... ageless, with black eyes that remind one more of a shark than any beings that come to mind otherwise. He could be fifty, or two thousand five hundred and fifty, for all that can be 'seen'. He walks over to the bar, and orders an ale, which, upon receiving, he downs in a gulp. Then he looks about the room, and pauses on seeing Ditka, gazing, but not staring, for a few moments. He puts his gold down, and adds 2 more to the order, walking over to Ditka's table, all 3 drinks following him.
He bows to Ditka, and says, in a voice bearing no trace of any accent known to these parts,
"Well met, Ditka. My name is Tamortir, and you and I have business to discuss." ...

[Davros]

"Now just hold on there matey", rumbled Ditka, "If this is about last night, she told me she was twenty-one, I swear by Kerah that I ...".

"You don't remember me at all do you", interrupted the stranger in a quiet murmur, "Does this refresh your memory....".

[Davros]

"Now just hold on there matey", rumbled Ditka, "If this is about last night, she told me she was twenty-one, I swear by Kerah that I ...".

"You don't remember me at all do you", interrupted the stranger in a quiet murmur, "Does this refresh your memory....".

"do I have to repeat myself again? I didn't..." but Ditka was interrupted by this stranger shouting at him.

"Clean out your ears, you dolt! You have been letting the wax in your ears to build up again! You didn't listen what I was saying!"

Puzzled by this stranger's behavior, Ditka said. "Oh....my apologies"

Ditka thought to himself: Who is he? Why his voice so familiar? Did I stiff this guy on the tab at the bar years ago? My father? My mentor? Who?

Then the stranger showed this......

[Serath]

...his ring. Ditka's eyes widened. It was a beautiful gold piece, inlaid with blood red rubies. Ditka looked down at his own hand, and the identical band fitted there.

"Yeah, I remember you now," said Ditka slowly. "You were the one who instructed me in the arts of the barbarian."

"The same," nodded Tamortir.

Ditka frowned. "Why are you here then? I have completed my training to the highest level of the guild." Ditka shook his head. "Surely you have not trekked all this way just to teach me a few more tricks."

Tamortir sighed. "No, of course not. I have heard of your silly quest, and have come to tell you that you are in grave danger. Many of the people you have met in the past few days mean you ill will."

Ditka leaned forward, suddenly very interested. "Which ones would those be?"

Tamortir visibly deflated. "I am not permitted to reveal that, for fear of my life," he said sadly. "Just be wary of those that would call themselves your friends."

With those last words of advice, Tamortir rose, tipped his cap and walked out the door.

"Oh great! What the heck have I gotten myself into?" despaired Ditka. "Maybe things will work themselves out in the morning."

The dawn found Ditka and Adam standing outside the town hall, and Ditka was visibly frustrated. He kicked at the dirt, the dust swirling lazily in the air before coming back down to earth.

"Well, I'm still no closer to getting to the bottom of this mess," snarled Ditka, kicking a small rock across the road and startling a horse that was tethered nearby.

"We have to choose a party and get on with it," soothed Adam. "We'll tackle the problems as they appear. There's not much else that we can do."

"Yeah," admitted Ditka. "So who do we choose to come along?"

"Well," started Adam, "there is that Serath guy. He may be a little off his rocker, but he seems to know what he's about as far as battle goes. Scronan is probably the best choice as a healer. Who else..."

Monyka, having trudged through the wilderness away from Valeia on her way to Ishad N'ha overnight mused as she swam underwater past the Oracles of the few encounters she had coming this far.

"Trollie Taka Taka!"
She had taken the trolls out at a distance having shadowed herself and using, with enthusiasm, the overkill of an Ice Ball, not wanting to dirty her enchanted shurikens or have to get close enough to smell their nasty breath.

"Stop! You're outnumbered!" had come the warning of a lone Highland Rogue. She wondered if his statement had been meant to intimidate her or if he had multiple personalities. Whatever the case, she planted one if her enchanted shurikens cleanly into his forehead, freeing him forever of his own stupidity.

Not wanting to dig her shuriken out of his skull, she left him and his cheap looking sword on the ground but did pick up a couple of red potions that he had dropped as he fell. They looked enough like Bloodlust for her to assume they were as it was a common "gift" of the dead Highland Rogues. She might need them againt her Ratling enemy if he was as powerful as he was determined to do her harm.

Surfacing to the sunrise in the eastern marshes of Ishad N'ha, Monyka still did not feel the need to rest, so she trudged on.

She didn't get very far when she heard the sound of twigs snapping and the rustling reverberations of a body tumbling through the dead underbrush of the marshland forrest.

The noise stopped with the clackings of a large forrest spider when it is threatened and ready to attack.

She carefully moved herself into the shadows and stopped to listen.

She cast a fresh Shadow spell and focused her attention in the direction the noise had eminated from.
She could feel her Ratling enemy quite close by and wished the spider luck in getting in a couple of good bites in a fight it was sure to loose.
She readied her favorite dagger, anticipating the momentary approach of the Ratling.