Monday 27th December 356 AC - continued

Leaving the foul, disease-ridden rooms behind we made our way back to the side passage we had passed by earlier. The tunnel led gradually down and a soft light could be seen ever more clearly as we moved along. Given the likelihood that light could mean a present enemy, left behind perhaps to guard an item of import but difficult to move, we shuttered our lanterns and continued with due caution, led by those in our party gifted with better-than-human sight. Nedlog took position at the head of the line and while she was unable to expose any mundane traps, the lady Ulani did sense and disarm a magical one.

After what felt like an age of fumbling quietly through the dark corridor we came at last to the cavern at its end. There are more vats of strange liquid here along with a great many treasures including a spell book – noted by an excited Ulani. In the centre of the hall, near the high ceiling, hung a large glowing orb – the source of the light. It hung there unmoving without the aid of ropes or cables, almost seeming to 'bob' slightly as if it were floating on a gentle sea. Sir Dominic tossed a pebble at the orb and it simply bounced off with a glassy 'clink' sound and sent its glowing mass drifting slightly away. Nedlog, her curiosity too great, set about trying to catch the orb under a blanket.

While we pondered the nature of the radiant ball the Qualinesti elf, Azshauna, gathered up the trinkets scattered about and attempted to use her magicks to identify any that might be of special interest. Sadly magic proved to be as reliable as most of my brother knights believe it to be and we turned at Azshauna's rather unladylike to see a small cloud of purple smoke. The cloud 'fizzed' slightly before whizzing randomly around the room and finishing its flight by crashing into poor Starsong's face. The Plainswoman seemed to be unharmed if somewhat bewildered, indeed she promptly sat down in a puddle of unknown liquid and began eating one of her pouches, but the mages assured assured us the effect was temporary.

Suddenly two of the vats were thrown aside, spraying their contents all about, and from behind them leapt six oversized, skeletal men. When I say skeletal I do not mean to give the impression that they had been underfed or malnourished – no, these were indeed men who had been reduced to mere bones and then reanimated by heinous rites. Each stood at least seven feet tall and brandished a wicked looking weapon, I am certain that had they possessed lips, they would have been curled in a snarl.

Undaunted, Sir Dominic stepped forward boldly and shone the Light of Paladine upon them, sending them fleeing back to whatever hole they had appeared from. The Kender scampered after them to find all six cowering in a small, previously hidden room filled with arms and armour.

As Nedlog 'helpfully' pushed her recently captured orb at us, we moved forward to slay the abominations. The first kills went to the Silvan mage as to missiles of white-hot energy flew by our heads, exploding in the chest cavities of two of the foes. Brother Ithariel succeeded in slaying another two with blows of his mace while Sir Dominic and I failed to land a single useful hit. Ulani eventually saved us from our shameful encounter and slew the final two horrors. This was the first time I had fought the unliving and indeed, a sword is a poor weapon to choose when your foe has no flesh to pierce. It is, however, a sad day when two Knights of the Sword are outdone on the battlefield by a priest and a wizard only recently rescued from imprisonment. Remembering the words of my old tutor, Sir Hallam, I searched the collected weapons for a good mace, lest we face another skeletal foe and we prepared to leave.

Nedlog, of course, refused to leave her new orb behind and Starsong was still seated lazily in a pool of the milky, fishy 'soup' that had been spilled out of the vats. We gathered her up and proceeded back to the lift.

The enemy complex fully explored we were ready to leave but Sir Dominic insisted that one task remained. While the rest of us returned to the surface he made his way to the lowest level to put an end to the troll's miserable existence. We were all quite curious to know how he would escape the lift shaft once he had slain and burned its power source so he instructed us to take a length of rope and secure one end to a heavy weight, casting the other end over a beam and down to him. Sir Dominic is a brave and noble warrior but his strategies do have a habit of turning against him. We did as he asked, finding a pile of logs to use as a counterweight and once he had tied the rope about his waist we heaved the heap into the shaft.

And so the story of Sir Dominic di Caela; defender of the defenceless; slayer of ogre, troll and undead beast, was very nearly brought to an end as he crashed into the stack of logs halfway up the shaft. Mercifully he had tied the rope quite securely about him and he arrived at the top, battered and bruised but alive.

We left our friend to tend to his wounds and nurse his bruised ego and went to the grizzly task of burning the bodies on the upper level before moving out of the tunnel to make camp for the night.

A long day behind us, we set a watch and slept around Nedlog's orb – enjoying its soothing warmth.

Into the depths

Monday 27^th December 356 AC

At the advice of our priest and mages we moved away from the ominous door once we had expressed our Yuletide thanks to the Gods, in case the environment was inhibiting their recovery of magical energies. We returned to our camp at the head of the pass and rested there for a day and two nights.

Upon returning to the tunnel and the iron door we resumed our attempts to gain entry. Sir Dominic attacked it physically with youthful exuberance (despite repeated warnings) and was rewarded with a chipped sword and jarred joints. The lady Azshauna, seeing that he is not to be reasoned with, muttered some unintelligible words and clapped her hands soundly together – a moment later we found ourselves the other side of the steel entrance.

The cavern we appeared in was utterly silent and had the stench of death about it.

Apparently the magical barrier was dispelled by our entry so we lifted the bar and opened the gate to encourage some fresher air through this fetid place. The design of the doors, opening in rather than out, immediately suggests that they were put in place to prevent exit rather than entry. This is curious on many levels but particularly as the locking bar and mounts would have had to be deliberately moved to the inside for their current configuration. Evidently this complex was not being used as its original purpose intended, perhaps the magical barrier was a necessary addition to the defences reflecting this fact. Sir Eurig may be able to shed more light on the mysterious design of the fortifications here as that is something of a hobby of his, I must remember to ask him when next we meet.

Around the small cavern we found a dozen or so corpses, heaped unceremoniously about. Bodies of men, goblins, draconians and other races lay about – all dressed in the livery of the Dragon Armies. The most conspicuous similarity in their appearance was in fact the omission of the Green. Red, Black, Blue and White were all represented among the dead but minions of the Green Dragon Armies were nowhere to be found. The presence of so many different regiments was indeed quizzical, also unnerving, as the agents of the Dark Gods rarely like to work together and thus far found casualties have tended to be of the same hue.

Since transporting us there Azshauna had been scouring the area for evidence of our enemies and had found tracks in the dirt (those that Sir Dominic and I had not trampled in investigating the entrance). According to her trained elven eyes a great many individuals had recently moved through this passage. There were traces of human, goblin, draconian and even a few ogre feet making their way out of this tunnel. It suggested an exodus but perhaps a 'redeployment of troops' would be the more appropriate term, as this was most likely the staging area for the recent assaults on the local populace.

Quiet until that point, Ulani suddenly announced that she knew this place, that she had been brought here daily during her internment. Somewhere within this rabbit warren of tunnels we would find the great metallic pillar she had been forced to energise and perhaps we might even find a clue as to its purpose.

Following the most obvious tunnel to its limit we discovered a cage, not unlike those found at the loading areas of Hargoth's docks. To one side there were four levers – marked 'one', 'two', 'three' and the uppermost marked with a red dot. We boarded the cage at Nedlog's insistence, barely having time to discuss our course of action before the mischievous rogue pulled the third lever and slammed the gate shut. It is fortunate that my kender companion also had the foresight to tie a tether to the 'return' lever (at least, what we presumed to be so) as we could have otherwise been required to endure a long and difficult climb to ensure our escape. Nedlog is a singularly intelligent kender, often thinking ahead and in ways that others would struggle to comprehend – I do, however, wish that she would sometimes take a moment to explain her plans before she acts on them. To this day I cannot even fathom where she found nearly a hundred feet of coarse yarn.

With a low groan the cage slowly made its way to the bottom of the shaft, where we were greeted by a sorry sight indeed. The groans we had heard were not the sounds of old ropes and pulleys under tension but were, in fact, the tortured moans of a large troll, bound up in ropes and chains to provide the 'engine' for the lift system. The dock engineers of Hargoth are known to use strong horses and oxen to power their cargo lifts but if I found a work animal in a state such as this I would have the Harbour Master's head. The pitiful wretch was bruised and cut, even missing a leg, and it simply stared blankly ahead – the light of even primitive intelligence long since gone from its eyes. Trolls are known to the knights for their regenerative capabilities, so I cannot imagine what torturous magicks were employed to keep the beast in its broken state. Evidently the enemy that resided here saw no further use for their broken troll once they had fled, content to leave it here to die. It says something, does it not, about the nature of our enemy when their deeds can cause a good knight to feel compassion for a creature of such base evil as a troll.

Heart-breaking as it was, we were forced to leave the beast in place until we discerned the purpose of this complex.

Ulani was unfamiliar with the cells and cages on this level so we made our way back to the lift and pulled the lever marked 'two'.

This level was instantly recognisable to the Silvan mage so we investigated it thoroughly. There were a great many rooms of differing size, almost all containing altars pledged to the Skull-faced God and most holding broken shelves and scattered debris. Indeed, the entire level appeared to have been hit by a tornado, it seems that the dragon army forces decided to leave in a great hurry and tried to destroy whatever they could not carry out. Eventually we found the room with the metal pillar. It was a massive thing, smoothed to perfection and reaching from floor to ceiling as if it ran from the very base of the mountain all the way to its peak.

Brother Ithariel suggested that we spend some time gathering what paperwork lay about in the hope that something crucial had been left intact. There was evidence that the foul clerics had been experimenting here and we soon pieced together the focus of their research. They had been experimenting on Paladins.

What the end goal was we could not be certain of but the suggestion was made that these agents of the Dark Queen could have been trying to create Her own unholy warriors, Certainly since the Gods turned their gaze back to the mortals of Krynn Paladine's Chosen Warriors have been a beacon of light in the darkness for honest folk, not to mention a constant thorn in Her wretched side. I can see why the forces of the enemy would want to replicate the power they bring to the battlefield. Full details of our discoveries have been included in my report to my superiors for if we are right – a great threat could be on the horizon.

Among the scraps we also found notes from the foul Scranti. An ogre war-band had been sent to Starsong's village (for what purpose we could not discover) but they failed to return. When a second band was dispatched they could find no sign of either the original invaders or even the village itself. If the young Plainswoman hoped to find clues to the fate of her people here she hid her disappointment well, for all she found were more questions.

We continued exploring, finding in one room two large vats of acid with steel ropes running to the metal pillar. They look like what the gnomes of Nevermind call 'batteries', though I cannot recall their purpose. In another room I noticed a large glass case with a Plainsman inside, he had been cut in half down his centre line and preserved in some kind of clear jelly. Starsong recognised him as a resident of a neighbouring village.

With apparently nothing left to discover here we set about breaking the altars and consecrating the area.

By this time we were in need of a break, both physically and emotionally, so we returned to the surface to eat and rest a while. After a short lunch duty called us back inside the mountain.

We decided to clear the bodies in the entranceway before venturing back into the underground layers of the complex and made a rough count as we piled them ready for burning. There were almost one hundred corpses there of many different races. Only the humans and goblins among them wore any armour and even that was rare, what emblems we found marked them as troops of the dragon armies. It instils a certain uneasiness to think that our enemy can wantonly slaughter so many of their own men – what secret do they possess to make them so certain of victory.

Even the servants of evil deserve a chance at redemption, in the next life if not this one, so prayers were said over them before we made our way back to the one remaining unexplored level.

Here we found ourselves in a corridor of many cells, though comfortable ones. The air was dry and the straw in them seemed fresh. We continued past them to find a passage leading downhill with one tunnel leading off it and a Y junction after around five hundred yards.

Down one branch of the junction we could barely perceive a low, indefinable 'hum' while the other was marked by a distinct odour. We chose the second path and after sixty or so yards we greeted by a large collection of rat trappers' cages, with dozens, if not hundreds, of rat tracks in the dust. Not much further along there was an open cavern and a bridge seemingly leading to a blank wall on the other side. Far below the bridge was a living sea of rats, swarming over each other like maggots and stirring up the stench of rotting flesh. We retreated in disgust and investigated the other passage, which terminated in a sealed metal door. The hum we had heard was much louder here and obviously the source lay the other side of the door so Nedlog produced a set of tools and set to work on the lock. Mere moments later the door lay open, revealing a second door and a curious security measure. With a “hmm” and an “uh huh” and a bit of stroking her non-existent beard Nedlog finally announced that the second door could be opened only when the first door was closed. Sir Dominic immediately volunteered to investigate and Nedlog's curiosity would not permit her to remain behind so they stepped inside and closed the outer door.

Within the 'hum' proved in fact to be the buzz of thousands of fleas, which directly set about biting and nipping my companions' exposed flesh. Through the swarm Sir Dominic could see a net and also the bones of human children – picked clean by the insects. Cursing our foe, Sir Dominic set the room ablaze with a flask of Ergothan Fire and escaped the vile place.

The Impassable Gate

 Friday 24th December 356 AC - around noon

We took the brief respite as opportunity to rest & lick our wounds. The kender, Nedlog suddenly appeared from one of the camp buildings, some sort of holding facility by the bars on the tiny windows. Following close behind her was an elf, naked but for a scavenged blanket. It seems that as soon as the wall was breached Nedlog scampered off to investigate the buildings scattered about, no doubt with mischief in mind, when she discovered the elf, Ulani, in one of the cells. Ulani is a Wizard of High Sorcery from Silvanesti lands, captured a short time ago and kept here by the dragon armies. It is quite an odd tale from what little we have heard, she was stripped and thrown in a cell but otherwise well treated. Indeed, I have seen many prisoners of the Dark Queen after their internment and I have never seen one so healthy or well fed. The only mistreatment came when her captors put her to use. Apparently they would take her deep into the mountain and place her before a metal pillar that reached from floor to ceiling where she would then be forced to cast the spell 'lighting bolt' continuously until her energy was depleted and her mind fled the waking world. After this 'draining' she would wake in her cell once more with fresh straw on the floor and a hot meal waiting for her so that she could regain her strength and repeat the procedure ad infinatum. None in our group could surmise the purpose of this tiresome ritual but it was immediately clear that it was not simple torture, there was purpose in this practice. Somebody suggested Ulani had been powering some great machine, though what nature of machine I cannot imagine. 

As our new companion finished her tale there was a resounding 'clang' from the stone ogre's cave and shortly after, a massive flash & plume of smoke in the distance to the north. We opted to investigate the local phenomena first, it is likely that the eruption witnessed on the horizon was the fail safe plan we read of in the ogre band's letter. If this is the case I hope and pray one of our messengers reached Sir Hassan and the main body of our army before they attacked the enemy stronghold, if none made it through then I suspect we will be mourning the loss of a great many good men.

Entering the cave we immediately noticed that it was hewn by hand (or claw), not by Chislev's slow touch. We followed a broad tunnel a short distance up until we were confronted by a substantial metal door with three symbols embossed on its surface. The emblems were clearly religious in nature, though none of us were certain of the gods they upheld. Each of us, though, could feel the evil emanating from them like a physical blow. 

Ulani & Azshauna were able to identify an invisible wall of force barring the doors from the far side and decreed it impassable by mundane means, though Sir Dominic was not deterred from making an attempt at opening them by physical assault - to no effect. One of the wizards then sent her sight beyond the door to see if there was a way to disarm the lock from within, where she saw a tunnel leading away with torches lit in their sconces but little else of note. 

We decided to rest and make camp at the mouth of the tunnel so that the magic users of the party could regain their powers and we could maintain a watch on the mysterious metal doors for signs of egress. I decided that it would be in the best interests of Sir Roland & Sir Benedict (the only two of our accompanying knights to survive the battle) and the infantrymen to send them back to our main lines and Sir Hassan, if he still lived. I composed a report detailing the military action, placed it with the personal effects of the brave souls who had given their lives in glory and sent the men on their way. With duty attended to we set a watch & settled in for the night, remaining undisturbed until morning, apart from a small interruption of our rest. Around midnight our two mages both sensed a tremendous use of 'alteration' magic. I do not pretend to comprehend this but I gather mages draw their power from the air around them, unlike divine magic that is sent down from the gods themselves. When a particularly powerful enchantment is cast it can apparently leave a 'deadness' in the surrounding area as all the magic has been used up. There are many possibilities of what our enemies could have been doing but as we are not currently trapped in an invisible box or falling suddenly from a great height, the most likely circumstance is the teleportation of a great number of enemies from behind the sinister door. 

 

Saturday 25th December 356 AC

Merry Yule, one and all. 

We awoke on to a crisp Yule morning to find that nothing had passed overnight and the practitioners of arcane & divine arts had not been able to replenish their energies by any degree. Suspecting some sort of interference we decided to retreat to our stone picket at the mouth of the pass and rest fully. We also took the opportunity to celebrate the occasion as best we could. 

 

The Battle of Rybnik Pass

Friday 24th December 356 AC - continued

Brother Ithariel and I advanced toward the wall, he carrying the explosive and I holding a brace of shields aloft. Despite our precautions we both suffered wounds as arrows rained down from the wall, though none so grievous as to hinder our mission. We deposited the device at the gate, surmising that to be the weakest point of the defence and hoping to cause secondary casualties in the battlements above, and beat a hasty retreat. As the bomb detonated we were hit by an invisible force that hurled us to the ground, never have I experienced such a blast & I hope never to experience it again. I swear I can still hear ringing when I don my helmet. 

With the bulwark ruptured I rejoined my knights, mounted and commenced the charge. Sir Dominic, filled with the lust of the righteous, spurred his steed ahead of the towards a draconian standing back from the breach. If the vile creature was capable of smiling I'd swear it grinned as it caught the paladin's gaze and sinisterly licked its sword. I forget sometimes that Sir Dominic did not fight as long in the Wars as some Solamnics and he is not always aware of the lizard-men's tricks. As he dismounted and attacked the beast it succeeded in slipping the smallest of cuts past his armour, barely enough to draw blood but more than enough to deliver the poison on its blade. Though the combat had barely begun Noble Sir Dominic now lay in the dirt, paralysed. 

Fortunately the rest of the knights and I were close behind and we surrounded the draconian before it could deliver a killing stroke. Sir Bertrum gave his life to slay the beast but slay it we did, though even in death it seemed bent on killing Sir Dominic as it melted into a pool of corrosive ichor about his unmoving form. 

By this point the battle was fully joined. We engaged multiple foes, the civilian element of our band attacked targets of opportunity and, our infantry caught up with us and set to with bow and arrow. We swiftly dispatched the scattered human & goblin defenders and Sir Dominic regained control of his limbs before charging off to engage another pair of reptilian foes - perhaps wishing to make up for the disastrous attempt at the first. 

As our main party administered Kiri-Jolith's justice to the remaining goblins a deep rumple could be heard from a cave mouth a short distance away. Glancing over we were confronted with the sight of a monstrous ogre led by a draconian and wielding axe & gargantuan club. By the blindfold covering its eyes and the grey hue to its skin it was clear that some foul sorcery was at play in this behemoth, what nature of sorcery we would soon discover. 

The monster's guide retreated back into the tunnel from whence it came and left the ogre to charge blindly towards our band. As the miscreation neared our position it became clear that what had been perceived as grey coloured skin was in fact a layer of course stone built onto every inch of the beast. 

Before the abomination could reach us the Lady Azshauna twice doused it in flame, to little effect and it barrelled into our group, weapons flailing. It swiftly became clear that ordinary weapons were no match for this beast's stone skin, only an enraged Starsong succeeded in cracking its facade, but we continued the attack as we could only do. Sir Tristram and Sir Tegyr were sent to Huma's breast by the creature's wicked maul. 

No doubt fearing for her safety the Lady Azshauna unleashed a great bolt of lightning on the beast with neither a glance nor a care at her surroundings. It breaks my heart to name Sir Lucane and Sir Hector among the casualties, caught as they were between the magician & her target. The ogre continued to swing its mighty weapons down upon us and the elf barely seemed to notice what she had done, I had always been taught that elves value life above all else - perhaps I was mistaken. 

While we continued the futile battle with the colossal stone ogre Sir Dominic was fairing not a lot better with his opponents, though he had been joined by Sir Leofrick and Sir Gregory. From what brief glances I could glean of my comrade he swiftly dispatched the first draconian, only to lose his sword to the corpse's stony embrace. The three of them then proceeded to advance on the second, who drew a wand from its sleeve. For a moment the entire group was engulfed in an explosion of flame and when it passed only the solitary foe and the paladin remained standing. Sir Dominic was clearly in distress, burnt & bleeding but the reptile appeared untouched by the heat. The two august knights who had stood by Sir Dominic's side lay upon the ground, burnt to a crisp.

Surely Sir Dominic must truly be blessed to withstand such damage and continue to fight? Within moments of the smoke clearing I witnessed the great knight sweep up the sword of a fallen comrade and force it between the ribs of his countrymen's murderer. 

Shortly after, a near berserk Starsong dealt the final blow to the stone-ogre, splitting the rock covering in two to reveal the shrunken & deformed cretin within. We turned, catching our breath, to see six bloated plainsmen swaying towards us brandishing daggers. Without a moment's hesitation Azshauna ended their lives in a hellstorm of fiery death and we found ourselves breathing hard and hearts pumping with no enemies left alive to fight. 

 

A Song of Mourning

Sir Bertrum of Solanthus

Sir Lucane of Vingaard

Sir Hector of Kalaman

Sir Tristram Goodlund

Sir Tegyr of Icereach

Sir Gregory Caergoth 

Sir Leofrick of the Plains of Abanasinia 

Your foe is defeated, the wretched have fled the field of battle and the helpless are safe from harm. You have earned your warrior's rest, songs shall be sung of your courage. 

Return this man to Huma's breast 

Beyond the wild, impartial skies; 

Grant to him a warrior's rest 

And set the last spark of his eyes 

Free from the smothering clouds of wars 

Upon the torches of the stars. 

Let the last surge of his breath 

Take refuge in the cradling air 

Above the dreams of ravens where 

Only the hawk remembers death. 

Then his shade to Huma rise 

Beyond the wild, impartial skies.

Return this man to Huma’s breast

 Let him be lost in sunlight,

 In the chorus of air where breath is translated; 

At the sky’s border receive him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies

 Have you set your lodgings,

 In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires

 In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

Grant to him a warrior’s rest

 Above our singing, above song itself,

 May the ages of peace converge in a day,

 May he dwell in the heart of Paladine.

And set the last spark of his eyes

 In a fixed and holy place

 Above words and the borrowed land too loved

 As we recount the ages.

Free from the smothering clouds of war

 As he once rose in infancy,

 The long world possible and bright before him,

 Lord Huma, deliver him.

 

Upon the torches of the stars 

Was mapped the immaculate glory of childhood;

 From that wronged and nestling country,

 Lord Huma, deliver him.

Let the last surge of his breath

 Perpetuate wine, the attar of flowers;

 From the vanguard of love, the last surrender,

 Lord Huma, deliver him.

Take refuge in the cradling air

 From the heart of the sword descending,

 From the weight of battle on battle;

 Lord Huma, deliver him. 

Above the dreams of ravens where

 His dreams first tried a rest beyond changing,

 From the yearning for war and the war’s ending, 

Lord Huma, deliver him.

Only the hawk remembers death 

In a late country; from the dusk, 

From the fade of the senses, we are thankful that you, 

Lord Huma, deliver him.

Then let his shade to Huma rise

 Out of the body of death, of the husk unraveling; 

From the lodging of mind upon nothing,

 We are thankful that you, 

Lord Huma, deliver him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies 

Have you set your lodgings,

 In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires In an arc of yearning, 

where we join in singing.

Return this man to Huma’s breast

Beyond the wild, impartial skies;

Grant to him a warrior’s rest

And set the last spark of his eyes

Free from the smothering clouds of wars

Upon the torches of the stars.

Let the last surge of his breath

Take refuge in the cradling air

Above the dreams of ravens where

Only the hawk remembers death.

Then let his shade to Huma rise

Beyond the wild, impartial skies.

From Dragons of Winter Night (pages 394-395)
Novel by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Poetry by Michael Williams

An Unusual Benefactor

Friday 24th December 356 AC

After another of Brother Ithariel's hearty breakfasts (I may suggest to Father that he hires a priest of Kiri-Jolith to run the castle kitchens) we ventured into the pass proper. Roughly two miles into our advance, approximately halfway through the pass if the kender's maps are to be believed, we discovered a wide, carved out open space. This artificial basin houses a military encampment protected on both sides by a stout wall. As the buildings within came into view we regarded a scene of furious activity, soldiers of the dragon armies going to and fro between a cave opening and their various tasks. Tasks which included the wanton mass execution of prisoners - clearly we had to intervene. 

Without warning our band of intrepid warriors was gripped by a gut-wrenching terror, a horror that has not embraced my soul since the end of the Dragon Wars. Many of our number were struck low by the Fear, even the noble and dauntless Sir Dominic, but more intriguing was the number of enemy combatants exhibiting the same terrified symptoms. Looking up (those of us still able) we noticed a great black dragon watching us from its perch atop the mountain - an adult black if I am any judge of such things. 

This certainly explained the fear of the troops in the camp but at once increased my perplexity as we were advancing through an area controlled by the red dragon armies, and black dragons are not the most 'socially inclined' beasts. Indeed, there was a running jest in my company during the wars that blacks were slaughtering as many of their 'allies' as the Knights. To add to my confusion the dragon then dropped a pack in our midst, containing breaching explosives and a spell book bound in red leather. To date I am still unclear on the motives of our reptilian benefactor but as a soldier I could overlook no advantage, we prepared a plan to breach the wall using the provided explosive and entrusted the Lady Azshauna with care of the tome. Many of the troops in the encampment belonged to the green dragon armies (main rival of the blacks) so perhaps the beast wanted us to disrupt the plans of a rival?

At some point Nedlog escaped our notice and scampered up the sheer cliff towards the dragon and disappeared into a crevice. The guards on the wall took notice of this and their number soon increased to at least ten, though we saw little other new activity. Suddenly all in the valley heard a gargantuan roar from the dragon above, those of us close enough also heard a distinctly kender voice shout "And you'd better do what I say - or else!"

Rybnik Pass

Thursday 23rd December 356AC Continued

Once we had eaten lunch our reduced war-band rode out through the fog and the mud, continuing on into the night. Around an hour after nightfall we were confronted with the mountain pass. Rybnik Pass is an imposing feature, it looks as though some great giant has cleft the mountain with its axe. The ravine is narrow and its sides rise vertically towards the heavens broken only by an apparent cave network that Sir Dominic laid eyes upon. In the clay of the track Brother Ithariel was able to discern the footprints of humans, goblins and draconians in some numbers. 

The ladies of the party then took it upon themselves to play the role of scouts, leaving those of us less stealthy by nature to wait. 
Some time passed and I had the opportunity to study the caves, reasoning that they must be joined inside the network - thus providing a perfect defensible position, allowing rocks and other material to be rained down upon your attackers before making an escape through the earth. 
Shortly before we would have become concerned for the safety of our comrades a dull thump could be heard a little way up the pass, followed by a hunting horn. We readied the men, forming a spear line across the opening of the pass, while the advance party retreated to the safety of the group. 

Eventually our sharp-eyed kender spotted hooded man walking down the pass towards us. He knocked an arrow to his longbow and let fly, sending an arrow into the dirt not far from our position, fixed to which was a scrap of parchment inscribed with the words "Flee or die". Not to be put off by unfounded threats we sent the shadowy archer's missile back to its owner and in a rare moment of whimsy one of the knights replaced the note with one reading "There's nobody here". It is after all, healthy to relieve tension in times of stress. For at least another hour by the stars the only further contact we experienced was a second projectile note reading "Still here?"

Around midnight a shout of "gas" was raised from one of those on watch. As we roused ourselves, a noxious mist the colour of bile could be seen inexorably creeping along the pass towards our forward line. Brother Ithariel, quick to action as ever, gathered the pikemen & had them build a substantial fire at the mouth of the gorge in the hope that the heat would dissipate the unholy fog. Fortunately the Lady Azshauna was able to identify the spell used as 'Cloudkill', an extremely unpleasant method of slaughtering your foe en masse but one easily overcome by the light breeze the lady summoned at her command. 

Some two hours later our rest was once again disturbed by sight of the hooded archer. On this occasion he had with him a goblin companion and a large man who continued to shamble towards us. This oversized, stumbling figure caught our attention as he approached the dying light of the fire we had set earlier in the night. As he came into view we could see that he was dressed in the furs of a Plainsman but his flesh was unnaturally swollen, as if filled with fluid. Starsong did not recognise the man as one of her Que-Kiri tribe but she was still distraught at his condition, particularly once he was close enough to see the pain on his face and the tears streaming down his cheeks. It became evident that this poor soul was no longer in control of his actions and whatever dire purpose he served was clearly to our detriment. It broke my heart to give the order but the archers at my command responded swiftly and without hesitation, giving evidence to their worth. As they prepared to loose their arrows and stop the wretched Plainsman the nefarious bowman sent a burning missile into his pawn and there followed a tremendous explosion. Apparently the captured prisoners of this enemy are being turned into weapons inconceivable in nature. Fortunately the blast was too far back from our line and we escaped with no injuries, at least none physical. The rest of the night passed uneventfully, though many of us lost sleep thinking of the unfortunate soul who had been sacrificed to a nefarious cause.