EQ5 - 2004 - Umbril Plains

They were a long way from home.

The air felt differently up here, even breathing felt odd, a little more labour some. You got used to it after a while
but it was always there in the background. A sense of difference. A sense of wrongness.

There were whole continents here totally overrun with the undead, where nothing living dared set foot. Great evil lurked
in every cave, in every burnt out village and every valley. Nowhere was safe, tribes of huge red monsters camped
out in the open plains and dark chanting could often be heard drifting across the hillsides.
There was no night time here either, the landscape was perpetually bathed in harsh sunlight. Somehow it made the feelings
of disquiet worse. The full horror of this terrible land was in very plain view.

The valley they were now in they had reached via a long underground tunnel, constructed by some long forgotten
ancient civilisation. Tall and vaulted ceiling provided a welcome cool shelter from the harsh heat of the open
terrain beyond.
When they had arrived they had set up a simple barricade built from trees chopped down from the nearby forest,
at the tunnel entrance. It would provide them with a good defendable point. There was a sally port at one corner
to allow egress and a raised step for people to look over the parapet.

Despite the preparations they had lost a scout in the very first hour of getting here. It hadn't been a good start.

Roztov nervously bit his thumbnail. The next attack wave would hit soon. We are a long way from home, he thought again.
They had arrived in the Umbral Plains two days ago, by his reckoning, it was difficult to tell here, and no one had
slept a wink since they had first stepped out, blinking into the sunlight.

Roztov reflected on what had led them to this place. Great evil lurked here, that was for sure.
Lurk was probably wasn't the right word. Parading around in the cold light of day was more apt.
What dared only to skulk around the forests of Jagged Pine and hide in the hills of the Karanas, was triumphantly
free to wander in these lands.
It was evil, but a very distant evil. Mother Tunare would approve of their actions here, but what about the guild
masters back at Surefall? To say that they didn't get out much was a gross understatement and would they really
understand why a war was being fought in a land so far away that it could not even be reached by any mundane means?

He doubted it. But a thirst for adventure and glory had lead them here. And a desire to see good triumph in the world
seemingly over run with wickedness and wrong-doing was what was making them stay.

'Incoming!', came the cry from Shlolien, their advanced scout, breaking Roztovs concentration.
Everyone looked up from their hastily erected barricade.
The ranger held up his fingers. Fifty. Then a fist. Redskins.

Like a machine, the small army that Roztov had called together leapt into life. Mantos, decked head to foot in his
famous red armour gave the druid a wink and leapt over the barricade, closely followed by the other warriors and
paladins. There went Edihag. There went Brond.

Roztov stepped up to the parapet, signalling to the other healers. Druids like himself were by his side, Xomano and
Hfestos among them. And clerics, dressed in platemail, hammers in hand were here, Illandria and Leedory.
Roztov had fought side by side with these people many times and trusted them with his life.

The huge savage red skinned warriors in single combat could easily defeat any of the dwarven and human warriors. But
they were too dumb to realise the help being provided from the healers behind them. Wave after wave of healing magic
were keeping the warriors alive as they slashed and hacked at their foes.

Roztov, as well as using his healing powers, was keeping an eye on the entire battlefield. When he judged it to be
the right time he held up his staff and cried,

'Now! Unleash hell!'

This was his signal to the others in the band to attack. Wizards lead by Ellerina and Farek. Mages lead by Gabob.
Assynt, the only enchanter had already been involved in battle, his magic causing confusion in the enemy ranks as
one redskin would suddenly turn on another for no reason.

The wizards and mages leapt up to the parapet and began to use their magic. Great gouts of flame rocked the enemy
ranks and those that had not already fallen to the blades of the warriors turned to flee.
But it was too late for them. One was sent hurtling through the air, by a well placed fireball to land near
Roztovs feet in a crumpled heap. The others were shot in the back with arrows.

No sooner than it had began the battle was over. The bodies of their foes littering the area in front of their battlement.
Blood and singed body parts were strewn everywhere, results of the fierce carnage.
Brond trotted up to the line and called to Roztov.
'We are all fine down here!'
Roztov nodded, although he could only take his friends word for it as the dwarves beard was matted with blood and his
armour was splashed with red.

The unmistakable smell of the aftermath of a battle wafted up to his nostrils. Blood, sweat, fear and the sweet but
terrible smell of roasting flesh. His traitorous stomach grumbled with hunger.
They dragged the bodies over to a charnel pit that had been dug a hundred or so yard away. These certainly were not the
first bone harvest they had made since their arrival. The pit was stinking but it was better than leaving the bodies
to rot right beside the camp.

Later. No night time, but it felt like night. Roztov was exhausted. The evil that had befallen this land seemed to be
drawn to them like a moth to a flame. They were hated and the inhabitants wanted them dead. Wave after wave had hit
them, he felt as if sleep would be forever denied to them.

'Incoming!' came the cry again. Shlolien came trotting back to the line from his outpost on an out of sight hill
behind the nearby woods. He held up his hand. Roztov squinted to see. Fingers, then a flat palm.
Dark assassins, maybe two dozen.

No one had any real idea what these creatures where. Some sort of ghost or ghast was the best guess of the clerics,
but who knew? They could kill the boldest warrior in seconds with their deadly touch. Dressed in long dark robes
with deep hoods they seemed to be made from nothingness. Hard to fight, but it had been discovered that they could
be killed and this wouldn't be the first time they had faced them.

Two dozen was a lot, they were powerful foes thought Roztov as he wearily stood up to the parapet. Taciturn as ever,
Mantos nodded to the druid as he lead the warriors into the front line positions. Brond gave him a pat on the back as
he went forward, but as Edihag and a couple of warriors were about to go past Roztov signalled them to wait.

The battle began again as it had before. The heavily armoured warriors and paladins holding off the charge while the
druids, clerics and shaman provided support from behind.

But the dark assassins were proving too powerful. Mantos was being, well not defeated, but harried by two foes at once
and two other warriors had fallen. Three undead creatures surged forward and quickly scaled the parapet. Xomano let
out a yelp as one reached for her. Illandria valiantly swung her hammer at it, but a cleric was no match for one of these
terribly powerful undeads in combat and she was quickly knocked aside.

'Edihag! Fill that gap!' Roztov cried.

Without a word the huge barbarian warrior leapt forward with his squad close behind him. Roztov had to wrench his eyes
away from the troubles on the battlement and look across at the main battle. Brond had rallied the warriors there
but without more help they would all surely perish.

Roztov new that the assassins had more intelligence than the redskins and that they would be drawn to the magic of
the wizards if they were called in to support the front line too soon. But it was now or never, everything could
be lost on a moments indecision.

'Now Ellerina, for all love!', he yelled.

Needing no encouragement at all to help her friends on the field Ellerina held her staff aloft and called down the first
of her ice comet spells. It landed in the middle of the enemies ranks with an almighty crash, showering shards of broken
ice everywhere. More robed figures stepped up and Roztov watched as the fire-wizard Farek unleashed a devastating
salvo of fire balls towards the enemy.

But these dastardly creatures were so powerful! Six had fallen already, but there were still more left standing.
And they were so quick that some could slip past the front lines and get in amongst the weaker supporting troops.

It was utter carnage. Smoke was everywhere from the spell casting. Lighting was flashing and sheets of flame were
lighting up everything every few seconds blinding him. Roztov was beginning to wonder if he hadn't just made a
decision which had cost them their lives when suddenly a dark robed figure lunged at him through the smoke.

Again and again it hit him, knocking aside his staff like a twig. Before he knew it the lights all went out and he
knew no more.




He could smell something nice. Lillies. He was sure that meant something. Slowly he opened his eyes.
'Welcome back to the land of the living', he heard Illandria say as she leant down over him. A halo of light
seemed to surround her elven features.
'Wha..!?', was all he could manage.

Seeing he was awake, Brond trotted over to the prone druid, signalling the ranger, Shlolien to follow him.
'No time for lazing around now Roztov!', exclaimed the paladin, 'While we recovered from the battle I sent Shil
right out into the plains much deeper than before. He thinks he may have seen the source, or at least a source of
the evil here. That's right Shil?'
The silent ranger only nodded.
'Shil thinks that this .. thing .. can be tricked away from its guards and attacked.'
'But..', said Roztov, slowly gathering his wits, 'Out there in the open we would be sitting ducks.'
'Yes, but Shil thinks that he could provoke it into attacking us here. Then we could fight it on ground of our
own choosing.'
'That's right Shlolien?' asked Roztov
The elven ranger shrugged and nodded, then standing he adjusted his bow over his shoulder and looked out across the
plain, his incredible elven vision pinpointing something miles beyond normal human sight.
'We will have to be quick. It is on the move.'

Roztov felt his back twinge as he stood up and he grunted in pain. Thinking quickly and taking in everything around him
the druid started to formulate a plan.
'Go now friend Shlolien, we will be ready when you get back. Goddess speed and good luck.'

The ranger nodded and took off at a very quick jog. Roztov watched as he disappeared into the tree line in the distance.
Between then Roztov and Brond gathered there army back together again. With so many druids and clerics around, the
warriors could be brought back to battle readiness very quickly. No one could do anything about the fact that they had
not slept in days however.

Quickly they were ready, everyone at battle stations, waiting for the next attack. Time passed and Roztov began to
wonder if Shlolien had met with a bitter end. As he considered the wisdom of sending out a third scout he saw a
slight figure burst through the trees.

'He arrives!', gasped someone by his side.

Shlolien ran towards the barricade and paused at about the halfway mark and turning, fired three arrows into the tree line
in quick succession.
Roztov wondered what he had been firing at as the ranger ran the rest of the way to join them.
Just then he noticed Mantos, stood at his side, rocking back and forth on his heals, like an athlete waiting for
the starters whistle, but his attention turned again to the forest as a distant crash emanated from within.

The woods began to move and rustle and with a sudden burst a huge black form burst from the trees, knocking several
over like twigs. Bigger than a troll, bigger than an ogre this huge creature stood at least twenty feet tall. Clad in
dark robes from head to foot and wielding a sword the size of a man it crashed towards the barricade at alarming speed.

Without waiting to be told, or to see if anyone was following him, Mantos charged towards the creature to meet it head
on. Once again Roztov nodded to his fellow healers to ready their magics. As he stepped up to the parapet he heard
Xomano mutter to him
'Doomshade..'
'What?' he answered as he looked down at her.
'Doomshade, I have heard of this creature. They talk about it in whispers in the taverns of Shadowhaven.'

Before he could reply, the battle had started, Mantos meeting the huge ghast in a terrible clash of metal.
Fear trembling in each of them, they still knew what to do. Mantos was taking a terrible beating from the dread monster,
but each of them must use there magic to keep him alive.
They all started to chant as one, a line of magical prayers behind the red-clad warrior to keep him strong enough to
fight this terrible being.
Not far behind him, the other fighters arrived at full charge, to harrie the creature at its flanks. Brond and Edihag
literally hurling themselves at the huge ghast, mindless of the danger they were in.

Chanting along with the other healers, their magical powers all aiding the fight, Roztov was mindful of everything
that could go wrong. Mantos was being healed in wave after wave of magic. If one of the spells was to fail then
he would be dead in seconds. Using his shield as best he could to ward the blows and even getting in a blow of his
own occasionally he was valiantly holding off the terrible horror from getting any further. If he went down nothing
would hold it back.
Gradually Roztov could feel himself weakening. The others were exhausted as well. Using so much magic power at once
could knock you out cold on your feet. But still they kept chanting, it was all or nothing now.

'Now!' cried Brond from the front line, 'Hit it with everything!'

Ellerina and her squad of wizards again leapt forward to unleash ruin on the huge ghast. Spell after spell landed on it,
fire and ice, often knocking the fighters at their front to their feet in the blast.

And then suddenly Roztov was spent. He had nothing left to give. The last of his magical powers had gone from him. He
needed rest so badly he could hardly keep his eyes open.
Letting out a gasp he slumped to one knee, nearly falling over.
Nervously Xomano, now at eye level with him, shot him a glance, but she kept right on chanting, the sturdy little
halfling never missing a beat.

To come so far and to be lost now! Roztov almost cried out. But as he watched the battle, trying to stand up with the
aid of his staff, his cry of sorrow turned to one of joy.
Hit by a broadside of wizardly attacks Doomshade had been knocked to his knees. Struggling to rise it was buffeted
left and right by the fighters pressing in on him.
It was trying to rise, but with the weight of bodies pressing in on it, it stood no chance. Letting out one last
dreadful groan it swung its sword for a final time and then disappeared from view under a hail of blows.

A great cry of victory went up, they had done it!


Later, they even managed to sleep, as the attacks on the camp seemed to dry up once the greater menace had been killed.
Everyone was recovering from the battle. Wounds were healed and bandaged, hunger and thirst attended to.

Shlolien approached Roztov and said 'There was someone else in the woods.'
Oh Tunare no! he thought, not another battle.
But the elf seemed to have a smile on his face when he said , 'Brond and some others are bringing him in now.'

Roztov walked over to the sally port in the barricade and then down onto the field to see what was going on.
Born on a litter born by some of the larger fighters was the huge green body of a troll, a crocodile slithering
around in agitation behind them.

'Is he dead?' asked Roztov as the stretchered form arrived.
'No, just a bit beaten up.' replied Edihag who held one of the litters corners, 'Trolls are very tough .. and heavy!'

A grumble came from the body that might have been 'I heard that.'

Roztov noticed Brond had just arrived at his side.
'When we sent Spine out as a scout he got cornered by dark assassins in the woods. But he still managed to
hold them off long enough for is to battle the shade of doom by itself. Things could have gone very differently.'

'Badly probably.. oop!' Roztov stepped out the way as the crocodile walked past him, its snout held up high in
indignation at the treatment of his master.

Roztov wondered if he would tell Soora about what happened here. He probably wouldn't tell Mrs Propamall.
Someone would tell Jord undoubtedly, as beer loosened tongues and a tavern was were tales were told after all.
But he also wondered if they would know what it was they were doing here in the first place, in this goddess forsaken
land far, far away.
Sometimes he wondered that himself.

'Well that's everyone accounted for.', he said to his dwarven friend, 'Lets go home.'