(G364 11/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA41

(G364 11/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA41

DAY 373 (11h Ches)(March) cont ...

There were a couple more side passages and doors that Fenrir had yet to try, so with the prospect of finding more loot on his mind he took a look.

The first room he tried was a store room full of ancient junk. The next one was larger with two interesting looking wooden chests at the back.

When he reached to open the first one though, a ghost materialised and told him sternly to leave them alone. Fenrir had dealt with ghosts before though and knew that sometimes they lurked on the material plane for reasons that were resolvable.
When asked the ghost replied;
'I will leave this mortal coil when you have killed the woman that resides in the room down the hall. Bring me her talisman as proof.'

Fenrir wandered down the hall and used his ring of Knock to open the door. His arrival awoke the elven lady who was asleep in the chamber he had entered. She went for her mace, but he told her he meant her no harm.
Her name was Vodos, they talked and she told him her story;
'Keren was an elf, we were together for a while. He was a powerful sorcerer, but he turned to evil. He died here a year ago, something that he blames me for. I am a paladin, I see it as my duty to send him on his way, but anything I do, he's back again a few days later.'

Fenrir, ever the 'plan master' came up with a corker, which involved him actually killing her then getting a resurrection later, probably from Veddic. She did not like this plan.
Next he suggested that they made a lot of noise, as if they had had a fight, then he went  back all battered and bloody with her talisman. If the ghost had an doubts as to whether she was dead or not he would try and bluff his way out of it. She liked this plan more.

They had a brief mock battle, then he took the talisman to the ghost and told his story. The ghost believed him and disappeared, for a while at least, and he was able to take the treasure from the chests. He then returned to the paladin and was healed.

He bid his farewells to Vodos and left the caves. He arrived back at the Lodge at about four o'clock. He went on to the castle and talked to my father, Sir Humber.

He stayed the night and joined everyone that was around at that time for dinner. He did his best to keep the subject of murder out of the general conversation.


DAY 374 (12h Ches)(March)

Only a high level warlock could get so monumentally lost on a simple two day trip from Kryptgarden to Waterdeep. I almost believe that Fenrir just assumes that this is the way that anyone makes the journey. Set out - get lost - kill some people - find your way - then eventually arrive where you were heading two days later than expected.

Anyway, he did indeed get lost on the way back to Waterdeep. He crossed a river, thinking that this was all well and good as he had crossed one on the way up. When he crossed another one though he realised he was lost.

As it got dark he flew on until he saw some lights, then headed for them. Now, I myself have heard of this place, there is very small monastery hidden away on an island in a bend in the river, dedicated to Leira, the goddess of trickery.

Fenrir walked up to the door and saw the symbol, a triangle with a hurricane in the middle, but could make nothing out of it. When he knocked on the door it was answered by a female halfling who bid him enter.

He ate with her and the other monks that evening. When he asked who they worshiped one of them answered 'Tyr', and the other two giggled.

They gave him a monk's cell for the night and, somewhat suspicious of his hosts, he put something by the door to make a sound if it was opened. He was indeed woken by a clatter, but when he went to the door there was no one there. He then wedged the door with a knife and went back to sleep.

Later he was woken by the sound of chanting from the hall of the monastery and the sensation of something licking his face. As he arose, the room disappeared and he was surrounded by mist.

Something had happened, he didn't know if he'd been drugged and moved or if it was all an illusion, but he was now standing on pebbles, in thick fog as a strong wind blew from his left, bringing the smell of the sea.

He waited for a while, but when nothing happened he decided to walk towards the water.  Reaching the sea he saw a robed figure lying in the surf, bobbing in the waves.  It was a skeleton, in large black robes, a scythe clutched in one boney hand.

As he took the scythe the skeleton fell, its hand extending one finger back towards the land. With nothing better to do he walked away from the sea and eventually saw a light in the distance. He continued on until he saw a low-roofed cottage, tucked away in the dunes. There was the sound of merriment within and looking through the window he saw  six people eating and drinking happily together.

Fenrir tried to knock on the door, but his fist went through it as if it were an illusion. He walked through the wood and into the room. No one could see him.
He began to realise this experience reminded him of a tale he had once heard. As an experiment he returned outdoors, put on the black robe and held the scythe.
He then knocked on the door and this time his fist struck the wood and made a sound.

He was welcomed in by the revelers who eyed him warily. When he pointed down at the table and said, 'It was the salmon mousse!' the spell was broken and he awoke back in the monk's cell.


DAY 375 (13h Ches)(March)

Fenrir woke in the morning and had breakfast in his room. When he went out he found that the whole shrine was deserted. As he got ready to leave he discovered that his precious Bag of Holding was missing!

He found a small carved stone triangle on the dining table which gave off a faint magical aura. Annoyed, he left the shrine and followed a path down to a jetty. He realised for the first time he was on a long narrow island in a river. There was no boat so he reasoned that they must have gone, and probably downstream since that would be easier.

He was invisible, but a wee mouse was sniffing at his feet. It then spoke, 'Hmm!
There is a man here, I can smell him. Hey man!'
Fenrir became visible and looked down at the mouse.
'My name is Vudey,' she said. 'Adept of Leira. If you have had your stuff stolen, which is highly likely as they are a gang of thieves in there, then it will be on its way now to the bishop in Waterdeep. If you help me, then I can help you.
I've been turned into a mouse by this bunch of tricksters and am in great need of a Break Enchantment. If you take me to Waterdeep and pay for it, I will get your bag back.'
Fenrir sighed. 'Do you know the way?'
'Come on the man, we can travel together. I'll sing you my songs as we go.'

They arrived at an inn later that day and spent the night.

DAY 376 (14th Ches)(March)

In the morning Fenrir and Vudey travelled to Waterdeep together and arrived at about eight in the evening. Sometimes the mouse talked and sometimes it sung songs. Fenrir couldn't work out what was more irritating.

Vudey lead him to a wizard she knew and Fenrir handed over the gold to get her changed back. Her natural form was apparently that of a gnome.
'Come on then,' she said. 'Let's get your bag back.'
She lead him to an empty house and then to an empty room, his precious bag sitting in the middle of the floor. He turned to thank her, but she laughed and disappeared.
Fenrir began to think he had been tricked in some overly complicated way, but he wasn't sure how. Everything was still in his bag after all.

As it approached eleven at night he arrived back at Old Jock's Brewery.
'Aha,' he declared wryly when he saw Giselle, 'It is the Widow Gnesher!'
(Technically she was the Widow Yardpike, but never mind!)
'You killed him...?'
Corum, who was also present put his face into his hands. 'Admitting to murder in front of a Civilar of the watch...'
'Like you haven't killed people that got in your way?'
'When?' asked Corum, bristling.
Fenrir had to think. 'Well there was that bloke we beat to death by accident when it turns out we misunderstood how damage reduction magic worked.'
'That was an accident. I don't go around slaying people Fenrir. It doesn't matter though. What did you do with the body?'
'Vaporised.'
Corum knew the sense of it, it made Teru much harder to resurrect if there was no body, but it did mean that Giselle, by the laws of Waterdeep, would not be considered a widow for seven years and could not remarry until then.
'Well,' said Corum. 'If we ever need a body, I suppose we can figure something out.'

They talked well past midnight and decided that Teru's threats were probably empty. Giselle resolved to return to Otter Saint Mary as soon as she could.

DAY 377 (15th Ches)(March)

Today Fenrir went to visit is family. He spent most of his time taking to his father over business affairs. He realised that his father was essentially a well meaning idiot who had no head for business at all.
Unfortunately neither did Fenrir.

[As a side note, I should mention that way back on DAY 217 Fenrir had managed to get Elsdon (his father) out of the Hall of Justice dungeons when the inquisition had nabbed him. Also, on DAY 240 the head of the Thunderstaff family Arsten II  mysteriously disappeared, along with his interfering mother Marle. I have no proof  of it but I should imagine Fenrir murdered them and installed his father at  the top.]

On top of everything else, there had been a fire at the Thunderstaff Villa  recently and they lacked the funds to make proper repairs. The family was on the edge of bankruptcy.

Among other things today he contacted Veddic via their magic communications gem and arranged a teleport from Thjodhild the next day.

Back at the OJB be talked to Corum, primarily about Giselle, who was now over at her aunties house arranging travel back to the Lodge House.
Corum liked Giselle and to a certain extent liked Fenrir, but cautioned about involving such a nice young lady in 'all your devil crap' as he put it.

Fenrir went over to see her and they talked for a while. She didn't throw herself at his feet so he took it gently.
She had a lot on her plate and wanted to concentrate on restoring her family.
They arranged to stay in contact via Sending Spells.

Back at the OJB, he and Corum got some drinks in and had a good night of drunken revelry. Gnarlie was there, Corum's sort of unofficial girlfriend, along with Nestoone and Raya.

When he went to bed Corum gave Fenrir the key to the 'Genie Room' down in the cellar and told him he could have some fun down there if he wanted.
Whatever Fenrir got up to with them, I shall not record it here!

DAY 378 (16th Ches)(March)

Fenrir was picked up by Thjodhild in the Market Square first thing in the morning and returned to Westgate.

He'd been away ten days, so it was just as well he had left Veddic to  cover for him. He met Zeni, Relleme and Veddic over the skies of Westgate then after a chat went and talked to Trepplemar. She was surprised to see him, assuming he was dead or long gone.
'Well I suppose it's good to see you again,' she said. 'Don't expect a full pay packet this month though.'

That evening Fenrir flew over to Spectre Island and caught up with Random. Finally he went to his house on Wizard's Cut. It was not a happy house, due to being haunted.

That night the ghost of Risolde appeared to him and told him that the demons required him to kill someone. There was a list of five names, and it didn't matter which one he selected as long as it was done in as gruesome a manner as possible.
Fenrir said he would see what he could do.

Chapter 16 – Stovologard (5047)(DRAFT)

Chapter 16 – Stovologard (5047)

They spent the morning of the next day in their tall house in the rear compound of the inn Honni had selected for them. The food was not here as the previous inn and the staff were not quite as friendly, but the top floor of the house offered excellent views of the town and its surroundings.

They were waiting for Honni to make arrangements for their journey to the docks and when they were not admiring the view, they were in the central room at the low table, eating, drinking and chatting.

As was often the case they were talking over old times.

‘Me and Ghene, we were in the Company eight years,’ Meggelaine was explaining to Arrin and Tankle. ‘We left at the same time. The first four years were the best though, don’t you agree Ghene?’

‘Yes, in some sense. We were treated like heroes by the dwarves.’

‘We were heroes,’ put in Broddor.

‘Big fish in a small pond,’ laughed Roztov. ‘Even now, Kardane numbers only about two thousand souls. It’s only dwarven tradition that dictates every fortress has a king.’

‘Regardless of that,’ said Broddor, ‘we were a king’s company.’

‘What I don’t fully understand, my lord, is why you left Styke, if you were associated with a fortress in that country,’ asked Arrin.

‘Well,’ mused Roztov. ‘Once the goblins were dealt with and there was peace, there wasn’t much need for us. I should clarify that, Styke is a country with a lot of problems, but none that a company of about fifty dwarves and other hangers on were suitable solutions to. There were a bit too many of us to bother with every farmer that had had his goat stolen by an Elbow Mine kobold, but not enough of us to take on the bigger problems. There is a tower south of Swollow Wood used by a necromancer cult, I think if we could have cleared it out if we tried, but it’s protected by the Duke of Glayborne who is an old crony of the King. You see? It would have lead to putting Kardane into great danger, probably from the Duke himself. We were a powerful warband by that stage and while some welcomed the peace and went back to their homes again, most wanted to reach for further glory. Some had only fairly recently arrived, Floran for instance, just as the war (if you could call it that) was ending and were still thirsty for adventure. It seemed more logical to leave the country to slake that thirst.’

‘It wasn’t the same though,’ said Meggelaine with sadness in her voice. ‘The places we went, and the people we helped, it was worth it, but it wasn’t the same. We did good, but often we would think, and talk about, the reasons we were there. We went further and further north and east, we were so far away from home. In the end, most of us began to wonder what we were fighting for.’

‘Especially after the Moon Marshes,’ continued Ghene. ‘All the evil that lived up there, I sometimes wonder if we were not just stirring things up. Perhaps all those undead horrors were best left alone. And all that treasure we brought back, it was inevitable that half the company left.’

Arrin and Tankle listened, smiled and nodded. They had heard most of this before, but so far they had not tired of the repetition of the stories.

‘Well, me and Ghene went to the Council a while after that,’ said Meggelaine. She poked at Roztov playfully. ‘And that’s where you should be. I’m sorry Roz, but that’s where you could do the most good. The threat from the east, no other danger compares to that. When we entered the Great Forest Council, from that day on it just looked like you and Broddor were still playing.’

‘I know,’ conceded Roztov. ‘It would be a big step though, and the politics would be… challenging. I’ll be a Baron of Styke, sort of, one day. I’ll own land. I’ll have people to look after. The Kingdoms of men respect the druids, but they don’t trust the Council and their agenda.’

‘You don’t have to live in the Great Forest,’ suggested Ghene. ‘There are dozens of rings in Styke, one in Angor even right?’

‘Yes, I suppose. Don’t misunderstand me, I have given it much thought. One day perhaps, but right now I’m raising a family. Well, if I survive this, that’s what I plan to get back to.’

Roztov rose and walked over to the back door, hit by a sudden wave of homesickness he stared blankly at the compounds outer wall. Just as he had said the words raising a family he had realised how close he was to rendering his two beautiful daughters fatherless. Every day they would be getting a bit bigger, learning new things and making new memories and he wasn’t there. Their little faces would be bigger and more mature the next time he saw them, if he ever made it home. Would they even recognise him when he returned? Would they go running back to Jeb to hide behind her skirts? He took a deep breath. This was not the time for all this sort of carry on, he thought to himself, I need to keep my head together to get through all this. If I ever want to see them again then. His son, Cayogen, how old was he now? He struggled to remember, would he be out of his teens now? Should be bring him up to Styke? Would Cayogen want to see his father’s lands? Roztov’s distracted mind drifted off to the last time he had seen his son, aged six, waving from the docks as Roztov and Broddor sailed out of the port of El-Joppa. It was a painful memory, but it had seems more sensible to leave him in the care of his grandparents, Styke had been so unstable back then. Then had had met Jeb and now he had two small girls to content with... Cayogen would be thirteen he realised. Roztov could tell from his letters he was an intelligent young man. What I should do, thought Roztov, was gather all my family together and never let them go, and never leave them again.

Meggelaine came and patted him on the leg. ‘We’ll make it home, don’t worry, man,’ she said easily guessing his thoughts. ‘Honni is back, he’s brought us a bunch of black cloaks and scarves. He’s got these funny sort of cloth face masks as well, I think we are leaving.’

‘They are called niqabs Meg, like they wear in El-Joppa.’

‘Oh right, well you’d know more about that than me.’

Their walk into the heart of Stovologard was a journey into darkness. It was an otherwise blue-skied and clear spring afternoon, but for the clouds of black smoke that drifted down from the central tower. They followed a paved road that led from the town, through desolate ash covered fields where people dressed in heavy ragged black cloaks scratched a living from the soil.

‘They are serfs,’ explained Honni. ‘They are property of the dragons directly. They grow crops these crops to feed themselves.’

‘It looks like a harsh existence,’ said Floran.

‘It is considered a great honour to be so close to the dragons.’

After an hour or so of travel they arrived in the city. Tenement blocks rose six, seven and sometimes eight stories tall. Most of them appeared empty. The gloom, the smoke and the quietness of the city gave it an eerie and surreal quality that made them keep close together. Visibility was poor, down to as little as twenty yards in the narrower streets and they all felt their lungs getting dirty. Occasionally a dragon passed overhead, casting a dark shadow. Sometimes a line of flame would light up the sky for a few seconds, and it had been overhead then a short while later motes of soot and hot cinders would rain down on the street. Dragon fire cinders were everywhere, lying in the street or clumped together in the gutters. Floran picked one up. ‘One this size would cost a fortune in Hyadna, and here they lie in the street like horse dung,’ he remarked before putting it in his pocket.

The light was pale and monochrome, the colour had been stripped from everything. Only occasionally could the blueness of the sky be seen, when a brief breeze blew enough of the smoke away, otherwise it was invisible under layers of smoke and mist.

The temperature dropped too, their breath came out in clouds of steam, seeming to add to the fug.

‘The top most of the tenements,’ said Honni pointing upwards. ‘Are where people live, where the air is a little better. Not many people live in the ground floor rooms.’

Floran nodded and translated to the others.

‘This place is hell,’ commented Meggelaine.

Stovologard was a large city and it took an hour to walk through it to the docks. They skirted around the base of the central tower, where the streets got busier, crowded with people going about the business of the dragons, running errands, delivering messages and moving food stocks. Most were dressed in niqabs, as a form of protection from the smoke and soot, so that the crowds of people appeared as a mass of flowing black cloth.

‘Like the Coal Miner’s Guild on wash day,’ was Broddor’s muttered comment.

There was enough bustle for them to get lost in the crowd, in the gloom with the hoods of their cloaks up they went unnoticed. Gendarmes, manhunters and even dragons walked the streets, but to them they were just another group of serfs, presumably owned by someone.

As they neared the coast, the air quality improved a little and by the time they reached the docks they began to feel as if they could breathe again.

Honni laughed at them as the coughed. ‘There are some streets in the city, where the air is so bad it is death to men. Only dragons can go there without being poisoned.’

Floran translated this remark over his shoulder to the others in a low whisper.

‘This place is the worst,’ said Broddor wiping spittle from his lips after a coughing fit. ‘And that’s a dwarf saying it. Even underground, near our ironworks and armouries, we have better air than this.’

‘The Tanner’s District in Millwood is bad,’ added Meggelaine, never one to forgo the opportunity to add her opinion. ‘They say if the rich ladies go through there, they feint from the fumes.’

Roztov, who was up at the front with Ghene, turned, looked out from his hood and hissed, ‘cut the chatter. There are gendarmes ahead.’

Broddor sniggered and Meggelaine shrugged and made a gesture with her hand to suggest she was buttoning her lip.

It was early evening and the docks were crowded. Not so much due to any great amount of shipping, it was more that the air was cleaner than other areas of the city and people tended to linger here. They stopped at some tables and sat for a while, warming themselves at a brazier. There was a tavern close by and Honni went to get them some drinks. Fog rolled in from the sea, cleaner than the smoke but just as smothering. The masts of the ships were invisible and only the hulls could be seen, dark shapes against the grey of the water. There was no one else sat at the other tables so it felt as if they were totally alone.

‘Bleak,’ said Roztov. He nodded thanks to Honni as he took a tankard. ‘I need this, my throat is as dry as a camel drivers sock.’

He then took a swig, gagged and nearly spat it out. He then swallowed the liquid and gave the others a wary smile. ‘A unique bouquet,’ he gasped.

Meggelaine gave her mug a careful sniff. Broddor shrugged and took three large swallows in quick succession. ‘Mushroom beer,’ he explained. ‘Like the kobolts brew.’

The other’s sipped at their drinks, caught between their desires to slake their thirsts and the unpleasantness of the brew.

Broddor drained his tankard and put it down noisily on the table. ‘Right, let’s find a boat and get out of here.’

‘Hold your horses,’ said Roztov. ‘For now we are just looking.’

Ghene glanced at Meggelaine then leaned in to speak quietly with the dwarf. ‘And besides, we should really look in on Dreggen. We need to find out if he or his message has made it to the ears of King Primus.’

Broddor looked blank so Ghene leaned further in and whispered, ‘We need to find out what is going on with you-know-who.’

‘Oh all that?’ said Broddor rather too loudly. ‘Bloody Old Bones? Who cares? Whatever happens, it’s bound to be a bunke samleje and none of our bloody business.’

‘We need to know,’ hissed the elf.

‘Fanden skyld,’ muttered the dwarf, who then pulled over Ghene’s untouched beer and drank it down in one long swig.

The mist began to thin out a bit, chased away by the stiffening sea breeze. They could now see the other side of the street and the dockside moorings. Left and right they could see down the street about fifty paces. Off to their left they witnessed something that left them in stunned silence. A dragon landed on a group of people about thirty yards away and proceeded to tear them to bits. It must have killed a dozen people before lifting off into the fog above. People that had not been close to the slaughter, standing motionlessly with their heads bowed, stepped forward and began to pick through the victims.

‘No one even screamed,’ gasped Meggelaine.

The druids all rushed over to help, using their magic to heal the few victims that were left alive. After five minutes, Honni said something anxiously, pulling at their capes.

‘He seems most distraught at your actions,’ explained Floran. ‘He is concerned we will draw the attention of the gendarmes.’

The druid’s didn’t leave until they had helped everyone who needed though. A crowd gathered to look on in amazement as people who were lying bleeding to death from fatal wounds one minute were able to stand and walk away the next. More people arrived, with old injuries and ailments, to plead with the healers for help.

‘I think it is time to go,’ said Floran who had been keeping an eye out.

They pulled their cloaks and hood tightly around their bodies and filtered into the crowds and fog.

‘This is the easiest city to hide in,’ remarked Roztov from under his black hood. ‘Ten paces in any direction and we are lost to all.’

Honni was anxious though, and he led them away from the docks, back towards the tower and eventually to an abandoned tenement block.

He pushed open the rotten old front door then took them up to the top floor apartment. It looked like it had been used as a hideout before, the floor was littered with the rotten remains of leftover food and there was a bedroll in the corner. The windows were covered with black curtains.

Roztov pulled one aside to look out, just as dragon flame lit up the sky nearby. Honni yelped and pulled the curtain shut then told off Roztov in his language.

‘He says not to open the curtain,’ said Floran.

‘I gathered that,’ grunted the druid.

Honni went to check out the rest of the building. Meggelaine found a broom and began to tidy up their room. The others sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, the only light filtering in from behind the curtain. Floran placed a small ball of magical flame by the door so Meggelaine had enough light to work by.

‘This place is a whole other world compared to the towns we were in before,’ sighed Roztov as he leaned his head back on the wall.

‘And yet ten times more people live here compared to outside the city. The closer to the dragon tower, the higher the honour, or so says our friend Honni,’ remarked Ghene.

‘They all must be dying of black lung. And what we saw when the dragon attacked... What did he say about that, Tup?’

Floran sat down beside his friend, neatly folding his robes. ‘This city functions in service of the dragons only. Honni told me there are any number of reasons why a dragon may kill the people, or no reason at all. The most common though, is a dragon killing its own serfs as it no longer has a use for them, or has too many to feed.’

‘That’s awful,’ said Meggelaine as she swept past, killing her fear with housework.

‘None of this makes any sense,’ put in Broddor. ‘The people in the city consider it an honour to be here? Where is the honour in being treated like cattle?’

‘I’m not sure he’s telling the truth,’ agreed Ghene. ‘These people are in rags. They act like slaves. How is this honour?’

‘I’m not even sure I could make it back to the docks. I get all turned around in this smog. How about you, Ghene?’

‘I think I could probably find my way back, if we needed to go there by ourselves.’

A few minutes later Honni returned and explained that he was leaving them here for the night. He had a few things to arrange, but assured them that he would take them back to the docks in the morning.

After half an hour, despite Honni’s dire warnings they were all wandering about the tenement and looking out all the windows.

‘We are camped on the sixth floor?’ asked Roztov.

‘I think so,’ replied Ghene. ‘Honni said this building is condemned, marked for demolition and no one lives here, but I wonder why.’

Meggelaine was stood on tiptoes, looking out of one of the windows. ‘Look, half of these buildings are empty. We are close to the central tower here. I only see a few lights.’

It was a grim view, from where they were, of the tall narrow buildings of the city rising out of the grey smoke. The cobbles below were hardly visible and even the windows on the other side of the street were no more than dark smudges. Not far away the central tower of Stovologard rose up before them. This close it was like a black wall, blotting out most of the sky. Every so often a flicker of distant dragon fire lit it up, giving it brief outline against the sky.

‘What a place,’ said Floran in awe. ‘I could never have imagined a place such as this.’

Later that evening, Floran provided them with a larger magical fire to keep them warm in the room they had settled in for the night. They used their black cloaks as bedding and ate food and drank beer from their supplies, recently stocked up from their inn visits.

Broddor, hunting for more drink started sifting through some of the bags.

‘What the hell is all this stuff?’ he asked pulling out leaves, twigs, and odd shaped stones.

‘That’s all mine, Broddor dear,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Just leave it.’

‘I might have known,’ he grumbled. ‘Souvenirs. I’ve been carrying all this junk around. What is this?’

The little fressle looked over. ‘A pine cone from Moletown.’

‘Fanden skyld,’ muttered the dwarf. ‘And this?’

‘It’s part of the roof from our hut in Vine Street.’

‘No, Meg. It is a stick. It is a stick like any other stick. And you have made me carry it all the way across this bloody... on no, look a beach pebble. Don’t tell me that’s come all the way from the ship wreck with us?’

‘What of it?’ said Meggelaine, getting cross. ‘He’s just as bad.’ She gestured at Roztov who shrugged.

‘I was getting to that,’ continued the grumbling dwarf as he pulled out several small canvas packages from the bottom of the bag. He unwrapped one of them, then muttered, ‘dirt.’

‘Soil samples,’ explained Roztov tiredly. ‘Don’t throw away any of my botanical collections.’

‘Dirt. Packets of dirt,’ said Broddor as he wrapped the package back up and put everything back in the bag.

‘Soil, seeds, leaves, pebbles, bones, twigs, it’s all vital knowledge Broddor,’ said Roztov.

‘It’s me that carries it though.’

‘You’re the strongest.’

Broddor grumbled something in dwarfish then smiled when his groping around in the bottom of the bag found a bottle of beer. ‘Well, I’ll just have to lighten the load a bit, won’t I, lad?’ he said as he took the cork out of the bottle.

Later, that night, they arranged a watch, everyone taking turns to keep an eye out for trouble.

‘Where did Meggelaine go?’ said Roztov when Floran came to wake him for his turn and he noticed her empty bed.

‘She’s downstairs healing people.’

 ‘I tell you what,’ sighed Roztov. ‘Wake up Ghene, he can take my watch. I’ll go take over from Meg and send her back up. She just can’t help herself.’

On the first floor there was a small group of people waiting outside one of the rooms. Roztov walked past them and found Meggelaine looking at the sores on a young man’s arm.

‘What’s all this?’ asked Roztov.

‘Does this look like grey rot to you, Roz?’

He was going to scold her for setting up whatever this was, some sort of walk-in clinic, but his curiosity took over. ‘I need more light, my eyes are not good in the dark like yours.’

Meggelaine gestured and a girl who was acting as her nurse brought up a small lantern. Roztov peered at the sores. ‘Nasty, yes. Once healed it may come back. He’ll need a lot of rest and fresh fruit if such a thing exists in this place.’

The druids used their magic and the sores were all gone in less than a minute. Meggelaine made hand gestures to suggest the man went home to bed.

‘Sleep, sleep, sleep,’ she said.

‘And you too,’ said Roztov shooing her out of the room, ‘Sleep, sleep, sleep. I’ll take over here. You could bring the gendarmes down on us doing this.’

Meggelaine left and Roztov called in the next patient, who was coughing up soot. He looked into the hall, there were half a dozen other people in it. Word must have got around that there was a healer in the area. They didn’t look any trouble, but all it would take would be word getting into the wrong ears that people speaking a foreign tongue were here. It did appear that Honni’s warnings about them being seen as devils were exaggerated at least.

As he healed them, more people kept arriving. It was late at night and raining now. They shook the icy water from their cloaks as they entered and made their way upstairs, glancing along the street to make sure there were no gendarmes about. Then into the room where the others waited, to converse with someone they may know from the neighbourhood or to sit in silence until they were told it was their turn. The strange man was friendly and smiled, but didn’t speak. At first they were nervous, and when he laid his hands on the wound or disease the pain was sharp and startling. He made friendly sounds though, and held their arm tightly while the blue light of the magic worked on the wound or disease. In a few minutes the pain was gone and they were healed. Thanking the strange man, bowing, smiling and laughing, they pressed some small payment into his hand which he accepted graciously. They then left the building quietly, probably to go to some friends house, who was also ill, to tell them where to go for healing.

Meanwhile upstairs, with nothing left to clean and no one to help, Meggelaine eventually had a panic attack. It had been a long time coming.

Ghene was keeping watch, quietly going from room to room, looking down out of the windows and listening for trouble. Meggelaine had gone up to where Tankle was sleeping, a room set aside for the two women, but she did not sleep, instead sitting in the dark looking at the feint outline of the curtained window.

Tankle was woken by the sobbing, choking and gasping of Meggelaine’s fear and panic.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Tankle with concern.

‘I. Can’t... Breathe,’ said the little fressle, each word interrupted by a choked breath.

‘I’ll get help.’ Tankle stumbled as she tried to get up. Meggelaine clutched onto her like a child.

‘Stay.’

Tankle sat down, with Meggelaine in her lap, soothing her like a baby until her breathing settled. After half an hour, when she thought the fressle was asleep, Meggelaine started talking.

‘It’s this place, it’s awful. I’m so scared. So many people have died already and in this place, the dragons just... it’s awful. Aren’t you scared?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Tankle. ‘I’m scared.’

‘I don’t know how you humans do it,’ gabbled Meggelaine. ‘Keeping it together I mean. We torms, we are a strong willed people, I think I am just weak. I feel so responsible though, if it hadn’t been for me, none of us would be here, none of this would have happened. Poor Ophess. And I’m sick of always looking up in the sky, looking for danger. It’s a constant, oppressive fear. I swear, when I get home, I’m not going to be happy until I’m a hundred feet under a mountain like a dwarf. I used to have a terrible fear of wide open places, that’s back I can tell you. Back in spades. Sometimes it just gets too much for me sweetie. It’s all just too much. You’re a good girl.’

‘Uh, thanks,’ said Tankle with a smile that was lost in the dark. When the fressle didn’t go on Tankle said, ‘I suppose I’ve just always thought that you, Roztov and the others would get us out of this. That’s what keeps me going. I’m just taking it a day at time. The towns where we stayed in and all those inns were nice. We just need to get out of the city.’

‘Yes, if we can just get out of this place, I’ll feel a lot better.’

Meggelaine shifted over to her own bed, dragged it as close as she could and curled up beside the big woman.

‘We’d better sleep I suppose,’ said Meggelaine eventually. ‘We’ll probably be glad of the rest tomorrow morning. It’s cold tonight isn’t it? I’ll just cuddle in if you don’t mind.’

Tankle didn’t mind.

Just before dawn Ghene entered the room of Meggelaine and Tankle and gently shook them awake.

‘We’d better go,’ he said. ‘There are gendarmes in the street.’

As the others gathered on the top floor, Roztov came running up the stairs. ‘There are a couple of dozen gendarmes coming towards the building. Honni is with them, I think he must have sold us out.’

‘Down the stairs or out the window?’ asked Broddor who had slept in his armour and was ready to go.

‘The window,’ said Ghene as he ripped the curtain down. They all blinked as the light of the sun shone strait in through the broken glass. It was a weak light, but the rain had washed away the smoke and now the clouds were clearing. It was the most natural light they had seen since arriving in the city.

Roztov went to the other side of the building and looked down.

‘They are on their way up,’ he said when he returned. ‘There are some in the street as well.’

‘This side is clear,’ said Ghene from another room. ‘Tup, you have a spell that can help us?’

‘Yes,’ said the wizard as he raised his hands. They all glowed briefly as the spell was cast. Once it was done, Ghene nodded and climbed out over the windowsill and was gone.

‘Just step out,’ Floran explained to the sailors, ‘you will float down to the street like a feather.’

Arrin leapt out fearlessly, but Tankle hesitated. She turned to look inside and realised she was all alone. Hearing loud footsteps on the stairs she said a prayer and jumped out of the window.

Once they were all gathered on the ground they headed into the darkest and most smoke choked street they could find. There was no escape to be had by flying, the morning skies were clear and full of dragons stretching their wings to soak up the sunlight. Down in the smoke and fog they at least stood a chance of escape.

Ghene led the way, but everywhere they went was blocked by gendarmes, who stood shoulder to shoulder across the entrances to the alleys and side streets.

‘Etruna curse it,’ said the elf when he realised he had taken them into a cul-de-sac. He looked up, all the building around them were at least six stories tall. It was like being trapped in a canyon.

He turned to see Honni, with a group of gendarmes approaching them. He spoke.

‘He says to surrender,’ translated Floran. ‘He says he is very sorry, but he was captured and forced to reveal our location. He also says that it is a grave sin to defy the dragons... he may be saying this for the benefit of the gendarmes. He goes on to say it is for the best and that they will treat us kindly.’

‘Not when they find out how many manhunters we killed south of the chasm they won’t,’ muttered Roztov.

‘He’s just repeating the demand to surrender now,’ said Floran. ‘We don’t surrender though, I assume? I assume we fight?’

‘Well...’ mused Roztov folding his arms and stroking his beard.

‘Of course we fight!’ said Broddor. He threw his black cloak off, revealing his holy armour and sword. He took he took Gronmorder from his back and held it aloft.

‘Hvem vil dø i dag?’ he bellowed and charged the startled squad of gendarmes.

(G363 04/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA40

(G363 04/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA40


DAY 368 (8th Ches)(March) cont ...

Fenrir had just arrived back in Waterdeep to find his girlfriend had been tricked into marrying the former household servant Teru.

After a short sleep he awoke and talked to Giselle at greater length, attempting to come up with a plan.

From Giselle he learned that Teru was clever and cunning, but he was also very paranoid about being attacked by the likes of Corum or Fenrir who he knew were men of greater power than he.
To protect himself he had hired an 'ugly dwarf' and was turning the family house into a fortress. He may have also installed a secret tunnel.

After breakfast Fenrir set off north, flying and invisible. As an extra precaution he used is disguise kit to alter his appearance.

He inevitably got lost. As night fell he considered sleeping in a tree, but could  not find a suitable tree.

In the end he paid a happy farmer five gold for a room in his house.


DAY 369 (9th Ches)(March)

As you know dear reader, I am a druid. So it very much pains me to recount - yet again! - Fenrir's hopeless wanderings between Waterdeep and Kryptgarden.

Even when just following the road he managed to get lost and it took him  much longer than it should have to reach the Huntsman's Inn, which lies more or less halfway between the city and my father's estate.

He kept going past the inn as it got dark. He then got lost skimming over the tops of the trees, having lost sight of the road. It was at that point he remembered he had a compass and he dug it out of his bag of holding.

It was useless to him though, in the dark, when he didn't know where he was in relation to where he was going. He headed towards the nearest lights.

An ugly man in a dirty apron answered the door. 'What do you want?' he demanded. Fenrir couldn't say anything though before the door was slammed in his face.
He knocked again, the door was opened and a crossbow was fired at him.

Things escalated quickly from there and more bolts were fired from the upstairs windows. Fenrir burst in, killed two of the villains and stormed upstairs. He killed another and then discovered a room with six people chained up within.

He checked the rest of the house before releasing them and found an old man sat at a table downstairs. He offered no resistance, but Fenrir killed him anyway while one other man escaped through the back door.

Fenrir went back to the prisoners. One of them was dead, but the others he healed with his wand of Cure Light Wounds and fed from his box of provisions.

One of them, a man called Vink Jongler told them that he was a charcoal burner and his house was only a mile or so away in the forest so they went there.
Jongler's wife was understandably delighted to see him alive.
Apparently the villains had arrived in the area a few months ago and had been killing and robbing anyone they could catch.

Fenrir was given the best room in the house for the night.


DAY 370 (9th Ches)(March)

Fenrir got his bearings and headed off on his travels once more. He eventually arrived at Ottery St. Mary at about eight at night.

At ten he arrived at the Gnesher Lodge House. He flew around it, noting that all the windows now had bars on them. The back door had been bricked up.

The servants quarters were a different building and he went and knocked on the door. He was still invisible so he soon caused a ruckus.
He saw Sten Arbutt and Betburn Tinner, who is vaguely recognised as the First and Second Footmen. He also saw the 'ugly dwarf' who was indeed ugly.

The main house and the servant's house erupted into chaos. While he was indoors Fenrir heard the clatter of horses hooves as it took off down the road outside.
After about a half hour of both houses being in turmoil everything settled down again. Fenrir had managed to sneak into the main house and when Sten went around to lock up Fenrir approached him. There was no sign of Teru.

'Sten, where is Teru?' asked Fenrir forgetting that he was in disguise.
'Who are you? What have done with his lordship?' gasped Sten before making a run for it.

Fenrir sighed and started to search the house, looking for secret doors. He started in the kitchen then moved to the living room. After about twenty minutes a dozen mounted guards arrived, men that had come down with my father, Sir Humber Lavius, from  the Kryptgarden Estate.

Fenrir remained hidden though and eventually my father left, leaving six men to  guard the house for the night. Fenrir followed him, perhaps realising he had  caused enough chaos at the Lodge for one night.

On arrival he had to remove some of his diguise to prove who he was as my father's first reaction was to say, 'Well you don't look like him!'

Once that was dealt with, my father offered him some port in his study and  Fenrir took him through the highlights of his recent activity.


DAY 371 (10th Ches)(March)

My old man, he's a funny sort of fellow. I say old, in reality he's only in his fifties. I am his youngest son, he fathered me when he was thirty, but anyway he seemed happy enough to be involved in whatever madness Fenrir was cooking up.

In the morning, after breakfast, Fenrir went down to the Lodge again. He started by checking the stables. There were six stalls and a coach. There were four fresh looking horses.
He remembered he had heard someone riding a horse away from the Lodge last night and decide to fly down to the Huntsman's Inn.

He spent the night there, but the innkeeper told him, 'Teru's a bastard, but he hasn't  been here. Owes me ten gold. The only other thing I can think of, my lord, is that some say he sometimes rides north into the forest. Seems a dangerous thing to do that.'


DAY 372 (11th Ches)(March)

Fenrir flew back to the Lodge and arrived at eight in the evening. He checked the stables and saw that it now contained five horses.

He used his Knock ring to enter the main house and eventually found Teru's secret tunnel. It was behind the fireplace in the study and lead to the stables. There was no sign of Teru anywhere.

That night he slept on the roof of the stables, hoping I assume to catch his target when he returned from wherever he was.


DAY 373 (11h Ches)(March)

In the morning he saw the 'ugly dwarf' going about the place with wheelbarrows of bricks with which he was repairing a wall in the garden. It suddenly dawned on Fenrir that he knew him.

It was Zallater, the half-fiend durgazon that had been the architect of the dungeon underneath the 'Devil's Brew Tavern'.

When he was approached the durgazon was somewhat cross. 'Don't use that name here!
What the bloody hell do you want?'
Fenrir explained who he was and that he wanted to find Teru.
'It's cost ya guv'ner!'
'How about ... 5 gold?'
'More like 500!' laughed Zallater.
They haggled, but Zallater's desire for money overrode all of Fenrir's charm and the price was settled at 495 gold.
Zallater gave him directions to a cave a few miles away.
'Every time he gets spooked, that's where he goes,' explained the durgazon.

A couple of hours later Fenrir arrived at the cave. In the first side passage he encountered a massive sleeping dire bear. He left it well alone, but it woke up and started sniffing around. He continued along until he got to a narrow passage that lead over a five foot wide rift to a carved out room where four mushroom men stood.He decided to attack them and killed them with one blast. This startled the
bear though and it charged to attack him. At the same time some invisible
entity also attacked him.

He blasted the bear several times, but with the invisible thing blocking his retreat into the mushroom cave he was an easy target for the mighty claws of the dire bear. After a few swipes he was badly mauled. He realised he would die quickly if he stayed in this fight so he dropped down into the rift.

It was nothing more than a pit, fifteen feet deep, but he was safe from the bear. It looked down at him, and he blew its brains out with a well placed blast.

After getting his breath back and applying some healing he continued his exploration of the caves. He followed a short tunnel that lead to a door.
Behind the door were three 'Spawns of Kyuss' skeletons. He had encountered these things before in grappa valley. He killed them quickly, staying away from their evil touch.

Finally he found his way to a carved out chamber where Teru was hiding.
The rogue made some dire threats about revenge on the Gnesher and Thunderstaff families if he was killed and that 'I will just be resurrected, I have friends in high places!'

Fenrir hesitated, but then decided to take his chances anyway. He blasted Teru into chunks, then burnt what was left of his corpse.

(G362 28/07/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA39

(G362 28/07/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA39


DAY 363 (4th Ches)(March) cont ...

Fenrir and Random chatted for several more hours. They were not friends exactly, but the human warlock and the teifling bard seemed to have a level of understanding.

Fenrir had plenty of things he could do for the good of the cause, not just getting to be the head of the Westgate Watch. There was also the further investigation of the 'FAMP' (Failed Alternative Material Plane) to be considered.
And there was also a smaller matter of a message that needed to be delivered to Teziir.

In the end he decided to spend another 10-day in the watch, to build up his presence there. Random agreed that was sensible.

He spent the night on the island.

DAY 364 (5th Ches)(March)

Fenrir met Zeni and Relleme at the usual watch tower to start their day.

There were scattered showers, so they flew above the city during the dry spells. Gelly arrived back today, flying back over the walls and Fenrir met her again.
'Things are worse than I thought,' she said anxiously. 'All my friends outside the city are dead.' He knew she was a tricky customer, all the members of the Night Masks were, but he said she could hide out at his house for a while.

When he returned home that night though, he found that the staff were keeping a careful eye on her and also the silver and other valuables!
He had dinner with Gelly that night. She was a pretty and quick witted young lady and he liked her a lot, but he also realised she was capable of stabbing him in the back if she ever needed to.


DAY 365 (6th Ches)(March)

Fenrir met Zeni and Relleme at the usual watch tower to start their day.

It was sunny today so they spent much of their day flying about, patrolling the sky above the city. Sometimes crowds of children would wave up at them. After the incident with the arrowhawk they were minor celebrities.

Today, none other than Captain Nicholas 'Crispy' Verbour the reformed pirate and captain of the Sea Wyvern arrived in the sky form the north, riding on the back of a wyvern.

You may remember, myself and Nobby et al, first met him when his pirate ship attacked us on the way along the west coast of Chult. He then became part of the crew and then finally achieved his ambition of becoming the ship's captain.
Fenrir knew him from when he went with the Sea Wyvern to find supplies that were in a wrecked ship on Stormscuttle Island. What on Faerune was he doing flying up to the docks of Westgate on the back of a wyvern you may ask?
'Ho there!' he cried, 'Tell me, is this the city of Westgate? Oh, is that you Fenrir?'
Fenrir flew closer to him and hushed him. 'No Fenrir's here. My name is Raziel Lightningrod.'
Crispy nodded, tapped his nose and smiled. 'Right you are!'

He said he had been sent south from the Sea Wyvern to check their bearings, but gave away no more information than that. He then wheeled his mount around and flew off. 'I'm sure I'll see you again soon!'

Fenrir didn't know it at the time, but the Sea Wyvern was on its way to pick me up from Damara. Not only that, but my lovely wife was onboard too.


DAY 366 (7th Ches)(March)

Today Zeni was on a break so it was just Fenrir and Relleme at work today.

While on patrol they met someone that they had encountered before - a powerful Sorceresses called Silderan, who was flying in on a broomstick.

He tried to stop her, but she was in no mood for that sort of carry on. When she ignored his warnings he shot her with an eldritch blast. She stopped and drank a potion.
'What did you do that for?' she growled.
He repeated his warning.
'Bastard!' she yelled. 'You are wasting my time!'
He blasted her again. She cursed him, then teleported out of the sky with a pop.

Fenrir tried to make a report to the watchmen on the ground at one of the towers but they did not seem that bothered. At the end of his shift he talked to Trepplemar.
'There doesn't seem to be any co-ordination at all between the Air Watch and the Ground Watch. Shouldn't they be interested in someone dangerous entering the city?'
'You are right,' she agreed. 'There isn't any co-ordination at all, but that sounds like a great idea. You should set something up!'
She was sort of joking though and went on to say that any co-ordination that did happen was informally done between friends.

Later still Fenrir was chatting to one of the Tower Watchmen (who all worshipped him!) and was told,
'Oh yeah, I know Silderan. She's a real beauty. A sorceress I think, not a witch although she dresses like one. She's a real troublemaker, used to be in an adventure party, I remember reading about them in the chap books a few years ago. Recently though I heard she broke up with her long time lover and now she hates all men. Shame that my lord, she was a pin up back in the day, now she's about twenty-five I think. A girl like that should be married at that age, but who'd have her?'

In the evening, back at his mansion house, this got Fenrir thinking about old times and his girlfriend back in Waterdeep, Giselle.

He had Veddic use a Sending spell:

 - Hello Giselle, I’m Veddic, a friend of Fenrir. He wishes you to know he is well, in Westgate,
     misses you and hopes you are well.
    
The reply he received was rather startling:   
    
- Where have you been? I am far from well. I married Teru. He killed father and now I am hiding.

He sent another message:

- Been helping Cavu. In Westgate, name Raziel Lightningrod. Will come immediately if you need help, or you can come here. Whichever you prefer.

The reply:

- I'm hiding at OJB. Corum helping. I need to sort out my family. It's a mess. If you want to help then come.

Fenrir:

- Where is Teru?

Giselle:

- Our house in Ottery Saint Mary. He's taken everything.


Fenrir left it at that and brooded by the fireplace in the study for the rest of the evening.


DAY 367 (7th Ches)(March)

Today Zeni was on a break so it was just Fenrir and Relleme at work today.

Fenrir had made up his mind though, he would make an emergency trip back to Waterdeep to help Giselle. He talked to Trepplemar and arranged some time off and got Veddic to fill his place.
'Very well,' said Trepplemar although she was not overjoyed about it. 'We'll put Relleme in charge. Veddic can help, but he'll do what he's told. If he doesn't want to formally join the watch then he flies at Relleme's pleasure.'

He then flew to Spectre Island and talked to Random in regards to hiring his friendly wizard Thjodhild for a teleport to Waterdeep.

She wasn't available until midnight though so he had a long wait.


DAY 368 (8th Ches)(March)

Thjodhild teleported Fenrir into the Market Square of Waterdeep just as the temple bells were chiming midnight.

He then walked across the emtpy square to the OJB - or 'Old Jock's Brewery' - and knocked on the door. It felt strange to be back, after all his adventures in Pedestal and Westgate.

'Look what the cat dragged in,' said Corum dryly when he spotted the young warlock.

Giselle was there too and the three of them talked for several hours. Fenrir told of his recent adventures and Giselle told of what had happened to her.

I shall here put it all together as best I can, with DAY numbers for the benefit of the reader:

Fenrir last sent her a letter on DAY 217, just prior to entering the Undermountain. After he got out of that pickle he didn't really surface again until he and Corum met Veddic and his gang at the gates of Waterdeep and escorted them some of the way to Hommlet. That was on DAY 260. A few days later though, he and Cavu follow the  same route and turn up at Kingsholm after Veddic's 'death'.

Meanwhile, on DAY 220 Giselle had returned to her family house close to Otter Saint Mary and just a stone's throw away from my father's castle. On DAY 230 Teru became her father's new broker (after the last one was killed in Waterdeep and 2500 gold stolen from him).
On DAY 250 Ulasas, her brother, was disowned by Kurl, their father, when he ran off with some 'slut'. Giselle later believed this all to be engineered by Teru.
Then on DAY 270, in a deal that basically saw Teru give Kurl back his 2500 gold he became engaged to Giselle. They were married on DAY 300.
On DAY 330 Kurl met with a 'tragic accident' and Teru became the head of the household.
Finally, on DAY 360, tired of being beaten, Giselle ran away and turned up at the  OJB looking for help.

-

At three in the morning, having told her story, Giselle yawned and went to bed. Fenrir and Corum chatted by the fireside, drinking wine, for several more hours.

Corum did not really approve of Fenrir as a match for Giselle as Fenrir used all his 'devil business' to charm the ladies, as Corum put it. He did mention though that he thought Ulsas Gnesher was probably in Neverwinter where the Gnesher's were a bigger deal.

Chapter 15–Approaching Stovologard (5524)(DRAFT)

Chapter 15–Approaching Stovologard (5524)

The next day Roztov flew down into the gently rolling hills that surrounded the city to explore the numerous towns and villages that dwelt in the shadow of Stovologard. He returned in the afternoon and reported that he had found a small town that would be a good place to travel to the next day.

‘It’s nice countryside too,’ he told them. ‘Good farm land. They keep their vegetains in orchards. The beasts hang around in the trees grazing. When summer comes these lands will be most verdant.’

‘And the town you found?’ prompted Meggelaine.

‘Oh yes,’ continued Roztov. ‘It should be big enough for us to hide in without looking too outlandish to the locals. It’s rather like Tunde was, but not all the buildings are of the tall wooden variety. You’ll see when we get there.’

They arrived at the town wall the next evening, having walked through the surrounding fields and vegetain orchards. After checking they were unobserved the druids dug a tunnel under the wall that surfaced behind a grain warehouse.

‘There is a good inn over there,’ said Roztov pointing, ‘and an eatery over there. I’ve not been in, but whatever they are cooking smells wonderful.’

‘Want to try it tonight?’ asked Meggelaine thinking of her tummy.

‘Let’s get rooms sorted out first.’

Floran, in his more or less disguise as a local, spread some gold around and got them a large external hut in the compound of the inn. It was a wooden building on five foot tall stilts, open on one side with enough mats on the floor to sleep ten. The open wall could be closed off with sliding shutters and besides the mats the only other furniture was a small stove with a kettle on it and a long low table.

As they got settled in Floran told them, ‘I think they think I am a mixed blood. That’s what the landlord said anyway. Half a pint of milk and half a pint of chocolate.’

‘They have chocolate here?’ said Meggelaine with sudden great interest, but Floran merely shrugged. ‘I was translating, he used a courser term than that to denote the colour.’

‘I’ll never get used to sitting on the floor,’ Meggelaine sighed as she sat at the table. Four serving girls were bringing in tea and a large selection of food.

‘Don’t speak Enttish in front of the natives,’ whispered Roztov in her ear as he sat down beside her.

She nodded and put her finger to her lips, but still said, ‘thank you dear,’ as a serving girl put a cup of tea on the table beside her.

‘Oops, sorry!’ she croaked. Roztov rolled his eyes.

Once they were alone, eating happily together, they started talking again.

‘From what I gather,’ lectured Roztov, ‘there are more than one ethnic group living in this region. You have the dark skinned people like the ones in Tunde, but then also the taller, fairer people. They seem to be favoured for work as guards or soldiers.’

Meggelaine was tucking into a dish of roasted vegetables and strips of beef and not paying much attention. ‘This stuff is lovely. Can we try that restaurant tomorrow Roz?’

Ghene sighed. ‘Honestly, you two sound like tourists. This isn’t a holiday to Boreland, Meg.’

‘Please Ghene, after all we’ve been through, we may as well make the most of it, because who knows where we’ll be next?’

‘Fill your belly for a long sea journey’, said Roztov quoting an old axiom from the coast of Styke.

‘The more you eat, the more you earn,’ piped up Broddor through mouthfuls of heavily seasoned vegetain meat, a common dwarven miners saying.

Although the inn appeared to be safe enough, they set a watch, old habits dying hard.

The next day most of them rested in the inn, keeping to their room, while Floran and Roztov explored the town. They took a small portion of the gold with them.

‘How is the money holding out?’ asked Ghene.

‘Still loads left,’ replied Meggelaine who was doing an inventory of their bags. ‘Enough to last for months. Whatever bank Roz robbed is missing a fortune.’

When the men returned, a few hours later, they learned that it was safe enough for everyone else to go about too.

‘This region, between the city to the north and the countryside to the south, is a bit of a melting pot,’ said Roztov. ‘As long as Ghene hides his ears and we maintain the pretence that Meg is a child it should be fine. Oh, and don’t speak any Nillamandorian language in public.’

‘What about me?’ asked Broddor.

‘Oh, wear a hood and pretend to be a wizened old man.’

The dwarf snorted, but was interrupted by Meggelaine. ‘Yes, yes. Can we eat out tonight then?’

And so, that evening they ate at the “Happy Vegetain”. Floran paid well for a nice table in a hut at the back of the restaurant’s compound. The compound itself was full of fruit trees, more of an orchard. None were in season, but presumably later in the summer their produce would serve as part of the menu.

‘This place is great,’ declared Meggelaine as she started digging into a big bowl of yellow rice. There were dozens of different dishes laid out on the table, as well as several jugs of wine and cold sweetened tea.

Roztov mussed up her hair, but turned to Ghene. They were already deep in discussion, cataloguing all the information they had gathered about the place so far.

‘Humans of all shapes and sizes,’ remarked Ghene.

‘Yes,’ agreed Roztov. ‘I see two main ethnicities. The dark short ones and the tall fair ones.’

‘There is a war, and yet life goes on. I suppose it has not reached this far north yet. We observed plenty of activity in the sky above the inn today while you were out.’

‘Aye. Me and Floran saw soldiers martialling up to go south. We’ve not seen any refugees though. It may be that these sorts of wars are not uncommon and the people have learned to live with it.’

‘I’m going for a wee,’ said Meggelaine, both knees cracking as she got up from the floor.

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Roztov.

‘Why?’

‘You are meant to be my daughter, remember?’

Meggelaine looked at him for a moment, then realised he was joking. She waved him away dismissively as she left.

Servants arrived to light the stove to keep the cold at bay and to warm up a large pot of fresh tea. Once they had left Ghene continued their conversation. ‘Notice how gracious they are. Always bowing, always respectful.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Roztov as he edged closer to the stove. ‘They seem to be doing well despite the war. There is plenty enough food to go around, this place is a bread basket.’

They watched as two servants walked past to another hut where a group of young men were celebrating something, toasting each other with cups of wine. The serving women wore their hair in tight buns, but all the men were tonsured, the backs of their head shaven. All wore tight, embroidered coats when they were outside. Underneath the servants wore cheap linen shirts, but the richer guests wore silk, died extravagant colours.

‘They seem a happy lot anyway,’ said Roztov referring to the young men.

Down at the other end of the table Tankle and Arrin were talking quietly together.

‘They have forgotten Sal,’ said Tankle. ‘See how the druid’s laugh and joke as they always do.’

‘I think they do it in order to prevent brooding,’ said Arrin, leaning in.

Broddor was stumbling about the hut pretending to be a drunk old man, asking if anyone had seen his walking stick.

‘Every time I look at him with all that soot on his face, I can’t help it!’ cackled Meggelaine with a fit of the giggles. The one glass of wine she had drunk had already gone to her head.

‘Merriment does nothing other than pain my heart,’ said Tankle. ‘Sal’s death has affected me deeply. More so than I realised until now.’

‘It’s understandable. We are still in great danger. Do you not get any solace from your boyfriend?’ asked Arrin with a smile.

Tankle gave him a look. ‘Floran is charming when alone, but when he is with his friends he ignores me.’

‘You could do worse.’

‘The wreck was such a shock, too big a shock, I can’t think about it. But Sal, he’d survived with us for so long. I thought, surely, we three, would survive to tell this tale. Now I don’t know anything. They never looked for his body, although I’m sure they could use their magic to do so. They’ve said nothing... oh.’

Broddor had stopped his clowning and had sat down beside them, having overheard Tankle’s last few words. ‘We have all of us,’ he said gesturing to his friends while looking Tankle in the eye earnestly, ‘lost more comrades than we can count, and yes, that may sometimes make us appear cold. For that I apologise.’

Broddor was already moderately drunk. He took a full bottle of wine and filled everyone’s cup. Raising his, he toasted the memory of Salveri in dwarfish, then translated it into Enttish for everyone else. ‘Lo, I see my father. Lo, I see my mother. Lo, I see my brothers and sisters. Lo, I see a line of dwarves back unto the beginning. I go to take my place among them, in the halls of Orenkring where the brave live forever.’

Broddor then sat and looked into his empty cup for a few minutes as the others kept a respectful silence. It wasn’t long before another wine jug was summoned and the merry chatter began again.

They were thinking of returning to their inn when a commotion broke out at the hut across the way from them. A dozen or so town guards, dressed in armour similar to that of the manhunters, arrived and arrested one of the young men. He was led away, leaving the others in a daze.

‘Go ask the landlord what just happened, Tup,’ said Ghene.

Floran got up from the floor and went over to the reception area. When he returned he passed on what he had found out. ‘I had to loosen his tongue with a few coins, but apparently the fellow that was taken away is a dissident. An enemy of the state.’

They all mulled this information over for a while. Roztov was the first to speak.

‘I’m going to spring him,’ he said standing up. ‘Ghene, meet me back at the mine. Everyone else just meet me back at the inn.’

Then, after making sure none of the locals were looking he turned into a sparrowhawk and flew off.

Ghene waited at the cave until it was near midnight. A dark shape flew down from the sky and landed at the entrance. A confused young man leapt down from the hippogriff and fell to his knees. Ghene offered a hand and pulled him to his feet.

Roztov turned back into a man and gently pushed them all into the mine.

‘How did you do it?’ asked Ghene.

‘Sniffed about as a rock lizard. There is only one dungeon here. Tunnelled down to him, he took a bit of convincing, but I persuaded him to follow me out. Then flew here.’

Ghene had lit a fire further back in the mine and Roztov gestured for the young man to warm himself up by it. He warily sat down and held his hands out to the flames.

Roztov and then after a moment’s hesitation, Ghene, turned into rock lizards. They scampered up onto rocks beside the camp fire.

‘Can you understand me, lizard Ghene?’ asked Roztov.

‘Yesssss, garg. Ug,’ replied the other lizard who then began coughing. He tried again, but it was nonsense.

‘You are trying to speak Enttish, but it’s coming out as gobbledygook. Don’t think about it. Talk elvish. It will come out as draconic. It’s like when we turn into wolves and our speech turns into growls and barks. Let the shapeshifting magic handle it.’

Ghene coughed some more.

‘Right, I think I’ve got it,’ said Ghene the rock lizard. ‘Ak. Woof woof, bark bark. Got it.’

Both lizards then turned to the young man, who looked startled at their sudden attention.

‘Relax,’ said the black and white coloured lizard that was Roztov. ‘What is your name?’

‘Ah, my name is Honni, of the Beri clan.’

‘Why did the guards take you?’ asked the pale blue lizard that was Ghene.

‘I was arrested for complaining about the gendarmes.’

‘You mean the guards? The men in black armour that took you away?’

‘Yes.’

‘And it was for just complaining?’

‘Well yes,’ nodded the young man, still in a somewhat stunned state from his recent experiences. ‘We live in fear of the gendarmes, they have the power of life and death over everyone. Yet, there are some of us that speak against them.’

‘You are organised?’ asked Roztov with interest. ‘You conspire against the dragons also?’

Honni seemed shocked. ‘I would never plot against our lords the dragons. But, yes, there are some of us, though not many, that seek to lift the yoke of oppression. The gendarmes arrest us and steal our belongings. When someone goes to the prisons to seek the release of a loved one then they too are likely arrested. Very few are ever seen again. It is a great injustice.’

‘I see,’ said Ghene. Then pondering the fact that the gendarmes were mainly fair skinned he asked, ‘Tell us about why there are dark skinned people and light skinned people.’

‘Oh well, the pale skinned people are called bullays. The bullays, the teachers say, they arrived five hundred years ago, in long boats from the east. I have several bullay friends, they are nice people, but the dragons favour them for the army and gendarmerie.The army are brave against the vile and treacherous attacks of the Chasm, but the gendarmes are terrible, a law unto themselves and very corrupt. I honour and respect our mighty dragon overlords of course, ah...’

Honni’s fast paced chatter petered off into confused silence.

Roztov and Ghene mulled this information over, then Roztov returned to something the young man had said at the beginning.

‘And so the Beri clan are the dark skinned, shorter ethnic group?’

‘You misunderstand, oh mighty wizard. The Beri clan, we are one of the clans of the Sunda. We are called the people of the Golden Kingdom. We are the aboriginals of Tanud. After us came the Jetta, then the Yat, and then the Bullays. Only the Bullays are fair of skin.’

Honni looked around the mine tunnel at the flickering shadows. He was wide-eyed and dazed, like someone in a dream. He was used to talking lizards, but shapeshifting was something unknown to the people of Tanud.

‘Oh mighty wizards, are you men that can turn into lizards or lizards that can turn into men?’

‘Men,’ answered Roztov.

Honni did not seem entirely convinced.

‘We are not Spire dragons if that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Ghene trying to be helpful.

‘Outlanders?’

‘That’s right, from the east. We want to get off this island. Does Stovologard have docks? Ocean going ships?’ continued the pale blue lizard.

‘There are docks. There are ships. Where in the east?’

‘Very far away. Where there are kingdoms of men. Where the dragons do not rule.’

‘Truly?’ Honni was agape.

‘I’d leave that sort of stuff for now, Ghene,’ said Roztov. ‘You’ll confuse the poor fellow.’

‘Right,’ conceded Ghene. ‘You are free to do as you please now, friend Honni, but perhaps you can help us?’

Honni bowed.

Roztov and Ghene then turned into their own forms and conversed in Enttish.

‘Interesting that he is annoyed at the guards, but not at the dragons,’ observed Roztov.

‘Possibly he considers taking them on an impossible task.’

‘Or maybe they are all happy enough being lorded over by dragons. Particularly if the dragons are using other humans to do all their dirty work.’

‘It’s possible. Or perhaps he thinks we are shape shifting dragons and does not wish to offend us,’ replied Ghene as he took a wicker basket of food out of a bag and passed it round. Leftovers from the Happy Vegetain. ‘The Golden Kingdom. I wonder what that was.’

‘I can only think of the ruins in the Chasm. Perhaps men were here before the dragons. The frescos that I saw depicted a large civilisation.  The Sunda could be descended from them.’

They talked for several more hours, comparing notes, changing back to lizards to converse further with Honni.

Eventually a goshawk flew into the cave and turned into Meggelaine.

‘Are you two ever coming back to the inn?’ she asked tersely.

Roztov stood up and stretched his legs. ‘I think Honni here can help us get to the docks and maybe even help buy a ship. It would be better than stealing one.’

‘We can buy a ship?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he mused. ‘The idea of this closed off island having ocean going vessels seems unlikely to me. What would they use them for? Any fishing boats they have would be small. Either Honni is just over promising to try and be helpful or he has no idea what size ships are.’

‘So that’s all sorted then?’ asked Meggelaine impatiently. ‘What are we all waiting for? Floran has wondered off with Tankle and Arrin has gone to bed. Broddor is flat out on the floor, dead drunk. I need help moving him, if he spends the night like that he’ll be as stiff as a board in the morning the silly old bastard.’

The next day Honni lead them to another small town that was only a couple of miles away from the city of Stovologard. The central tower loomed above them, casting a smoky pall over the landscape. With a few gold coins he was able to allay any suspicions that the gendarmes may have had about such an odd group of travellers. Growing in confidence he then led them to an inn, of which he knew the proprietor, and installed them all in a tall wooden house at the back of the compound. He then went to arrange passage to the docks.

‘Can we trust this man?’ asked Broddor when they were alone.

‘He seems nice,’ said Meggelaine.

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Roztov. ‘I’m not sure of any other way to go about this. We’ll need to go to the docks anyway, to see what floats down there.’

‘Want me to fly over there?’ asked Ghene.

‘I’m not sure,’ replied Roztov, riddled with indecision. ‘There is smoke everywhere. I’ve not seen a single bird since we left the last town. Nothing flies around here except dragons. Scouting would be done better on foot, maybe as a lizard.’

‘Yes, you seem to make a better lizard than me…’

‘In the name of Aerekrig,’ cursed Broddor as he interrupted them. ‘I like this place, the dragons are impressive, the food is good and the wine is passable, but stop pussy-footing around. If we are going, then let’s go! The city is two miles away, the docks can only be another mile away at the most. We fly down there, hippogriffs and bees, steal a boat and sail off into the sunset. Job done!’

Roztov gave his friend a long look then spoke. ‘And then what? We would have literally a hundred dragons breathing down our neck. Breathing fire down our neck. We need to steal or buy a boat and then get away without the dragons noticing.’

‘Och,’ grunted Broddor with a dismissive gesture.

‘We need to see what comes in and out of the port. We need to see what the mist barrier is like here. We need our friends Arrin and Tankle to give their expert opinions on the situation as the only two sailors in our group. There are a lot of things to consider.’

‘You always over-complicate things.’

‘We are really close,’ put in Meggelaine. ‘Roztov is right. Now that we are so close, let’s not act in haste.’

Broddor folded his arms, sighed, shrugged, then lifted up a jug of wine and poured himself a cup.

The others settled in to wait as well, still happy to rest. Any day when they were not being chased by dragons or battling trolls felt like a good day.

From the south facing top window of the hut they were in they could see the jagged tops of the mountains in the distance to the south. It was reached by a ladder and had a balcony that wrapped all the way around the inner eves of the roof.

‘So now that we have seen them all, what do you make of those mountains?’ asked Roztov of Ghene.

‘They are interesting. I have observed their unusualness. They are a strange mixture of young and old peaks. The Chasm is the result of some ancient upheaval. A massive earthquake that must have struck the island in two, thousands of years ago. Before then though, these mountains we have just left would have formed, but they are an interesting jumble of old and new peaks.’

‘Yes, yes,’ agreed Roztov, sharing his friend’s love of geography. ‘The rounded ones were first obviously. They are similar to the mountains of Boreland, ancient things,’ he raised a finger, ‘but then something happened that pushed the whole north of the island upwards. You have all these jagged peaks and hanging valleys.’

‘Reminiscent of the Moon Marshes in some ways. Elevated lands. I would dearly love to survey the whole island,’ sighed Roztov.

They walked around the balcony to the north facing window of the building.

‘Content yourself with what you have already learned,’ said Ghene as they walked. ‘You’ll give your society a whole new branch of research when you return.’

‘If I return.’

‘And what do you make of that?’ asked Ghene with a wry smile, gesturing at the tower of Stovologard.

‘It’s a nightmare,’ replied Roztov, looking up at it from the window. ‘Must be half a mile high. It wouldn’t surprise me if its origins were magical.’

‘See how it drips ash? See how black it is? There, and there, flashes of flame through the smoke. What goes on in there?’

‘Dragon business, I suppose.’

Ghene shuddered and stepped back. ‘To live your life in the shadow of such a hellish… what would you call it Roztov?’

‘The sailors called their topmost sails skyscrapers. That’s what that is. A skyscraper.’

‘Right, and how many dragons are in there?’

They watched for a while, as black shapes flew into and out of the smoke, constantly wheeling around, like a giant rookery.

‘Hundreds? Thousands?’

‘Think of it Roz, and all of the humanity that live in this land exist to serve them. Initially I thought that it maybe wasn’t such a bad deal for the people here. They are well fed, they are protected. But look yonder, at the houses of men that are of the city proper.’

‘Aye, slums, worse than anything I’ve ever seen in Styke, worse than Millwood. Buildings eight or more stories high, probably with hundreds of people in them. Living in that constant fug of smoke.’

‘And kept in line by their own kind,’ mused Ghene.

‘By my estimation there are more people in the city than inhabit the rest of the island,’ said Roztov as he counted the buildings. ‘A million maybe? Etruna save us, a million people living like that? It defies reason.’

Ghene turned and leaned over the bannister, looking down at the others as they sat and talked at the table. ‘I suppose we’ll have to go through it to get to the coast.’

‘I think so,’ replied Roztov as he too turned away. ‘It will be best to get lost in the crowd, the fog, the smoke. I look forward to it no more than you do.’

In the afternoon Honni arrived back at the inn, entering their rented house with a bow. He told them that it would be best for them to wait at the inn until tomorrow and he could make more arrangements.

Roztov, as a rock lizard said, ‘I’m going to take a look around.’

‘That would be very unwise, oh great and powerful wizard,’ cautioned Honni. ‘It is safest here.’

Roztov ignored the warning and scampered up the nearest tree then out over the compound wall.

‘Never mind,’ said Ghene. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. I have been thinking about what you said about your people once being part of a “Golden Kingdom”. Tell me, what do you know of the Chasm?’

‘Very little, most honoured lord. Only that they are enemies and evil in every way.’

‘Do you know anything at all about it being where the Golden Kingdom was?’

‘I have never heard that, but I am no scholar. I was a poor student when I was young.’

A look came over Honni’s face that Roztov would have recognised as guile. Ghene was not as good at reading people as Roztov though.

‘You are not from here,’ said the young man. ‘At first I thought you were all Bullays, but you are not. Meggelaine is not a child, even a magical one. Broddor is not even a man, neither are you.’

‘What of it?’

‘Nothing my lord,’ said Honni. ‘You should take care though. The people here are most superstitious. They will think you are devils. If they find you they will take you to the gendarmes, who will take you to the dragons. Then who knows what happens?’

‘All we want to do is leave.’

‘Until I met you all I never realised there was anywhere else to go. It is most confusing.’

Meanwhile, Roztov was having a fine time, scampering around the streets and markets of the town. It was not a big place, but it was crowded, being a suburb of the main city. The inn where they were staying was on the southern edge of the town and sheltered from the smoke, but in the towns centre there was a distinct fug in the air and when the currents were wrong, a downdraft would blow a big cloud of the stuff down into the streets and alleys. The people coughed covered their faces with handkerchiefs and got on with their lives.The exterior walls of the buildings were dirty with soot. Any building that was more than a year old, whether it was made from stone or wood was as black as coal. The thatched rooves of the stone buildings were like a chimney sweeps brush.

Lizards would usually be kicked out of a house if they were not known, as Roztov discovered when a charwoman hit him in the backside with a broom.

‘Get out of here you!’

‘Watch it, lady!’ hissed Roztov as he shot out the door and into the garden.

He learned though that the children liked to play with or torment the lizards depending on their moods and he could gain access to their dwellings that way. By this method he explored the tall wooden houses of the dark skinned people, built in the same fashion as the ones back in Tunde, and the low stone buildings that the Bullays built.

The wooden buildings in the centre of this town were built three or four stories high, so from their roofs he could get a better view of the city and the tower of Stovologard. Through the swirling smoke he watched again the dragons wheeling around the top of the skyscraper and wondering at how the humans in the city could live beneath it. Layer after layer of sooty clouds descended on the tenements below, a poisonous fog the he thought must surely be killing the people beneath.Out here in the suburbs, it was bad enough, what must it be like directly under the tower he wondered. Worse than the iron works in Millwood, or the foundries of a dwarven fortress.

As the evening wore on he climbed a tree on a busy intersection and watched the people go by. They were mix of the finely dressed all the way down to people dressed in rags. There were miners, their skin and clothes red from the soil they worked with, there were men pushing hand carts, driving goats, there were clerks, scribes and messengers, all going about their daily business. Richly dressed women, escorted by guards who wore red feathers or other tokens in their helmets, bought treats and sweetmeats for their children from other women who sold foodstuffs from trays for a few leaves of script. Children, rich and poor, ran about, playing with the lizards or throwing stones at them or playing their own games, games that Roztov would have easily recognised in the streets of Timu. Another thing that he recognised was how the guards behaved towards the commoners. They were rough, insulting and answerable to no one. They stole from the vendors and if anyone spoke up they were pushed to the ground and kicked. Wherever he travelled, Roztov always saw the strong bullying the weak. On the streets of Timu the town guard were reasonable fellows on the whole, but since the assent of King Woad to the throne, his palace guards had become as big a pack of vicious bastards as you could ever hope to meet. Roztov watched as three gendarmes push over a street vendors cart and the food scattered everywhere. As the poor man bent to pick everything up one of the gendarmes kicked him in the backside and sent him sprawling into the black mud of the street. They three guards then walked away laughing. As Roztov watched the vendor pick up his cart and try to salvage his livelihood Roztov reflected that he should count himself lucky. The Timu palace guards would have stuck a knife in him, then stolen the cart and sold it.

The three gendarmes had been bullays, dressed in black armour and animal headed helmets, but there were other bullays around too, attired the same way as everyone else. The place was a real mix of cultures, the bullays wore the traditional looking local dress as often as not, but with patterns and designs on the fabric that were vaguely reminiscent of those found in the streets and square of Ixnay and the other towns of Vegas back on Nillamandor.

Roztov arrived back at the inn after midnight. Only Ghene and Meggelaine were awake, keeping watch while the others slept. He took a glass of wine with them before going to bed.

‘So what did you learn, lizard Roztov?’ asked Ghene with a smile.

‘It’s an interesting place. The dragons seem to stay out of human affairs. They rely on the gendarmes to keep order.’

‘It’s most strange, I admit,’ said Ghene. ‘The humans are not put upon slaves, at least not in this town, or the others we have seen. They seem to accept the dragons as we back on Nillamandor accept the gods.’

‘There is mining here,’ said Roztov as he continued to relay his findings. ‘They mine precious metals and stones that are fashioned into treasures for the dragons. I’ve seen hematite being carried towards the tower by hand cart, there must be iron and steel works in the city.’

‘Interesting as new cultures and their economies are, I admit I can’t wait to leave,’ said Ghene. ‘This place has little use for nature, little use for druids.’

Meggelaine went inside to get a blanket.

Roztov checked over his shoulder to see that she wasn’t listening. ‘One or both of us is going to have to get inside that skyscraper.’

Ghene shuddered. ‘I know. If nothing else to see what is going on with Dreggen and old You-know-who.’

Meggelaine returned and Ghene changed the subject. ‘I can’t make out the difference between the Sunda, the Jetta, and the Yat.’

‘Really?’ replied Roztov raising an eyebrow.

‘Me either,’ admitted Meggelaine.

‘Honesty, we all look the same to you?’ he said with an amused sigh. ‘Well, the Sunda are the lightest of skin. They are like the people we met in Tunde. The Jetta are the shortest and the Yat are the darkest. It seems clear to me.’

‘Listen to him,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Like you are not just as bad. What’s the difference between a fraskan and a fressle then?’

‘There is none,’ replied Roztov without hesitation.

‘We dress differently. Fraskan ladies wear those weird tasselled skirts.’

Roztov laughed then rubbed his eyes. ‘You torms, fraskans and fressles. You are the same or different depending on what side of the argument you are on.’

Meggelaine snuggled up to him in her blanket. ‘Yes, yes. Just stay where you are. I’m going to rest my eyes for a moment.’

She was soon asleep, leaving the other two druids to talk and make their plans.