Tamli Green's Letters to Traveler's Tales

[Lydia]

OOC Note: Tamli is a very unreliable narrator! She totally lies about how awesome and generous she is. But the general gist of events is accurate. Additionally, this is part 1 of...several! Sorry for the length.

Mailed to:
Marrin Stone
Sorceress Powered Publications
Stafford City
The Realm

Dear Dame Stone,

In your quarterly publication, Traveler's Tales, I have often enjoyed your sequential fiction following the conquests and adventures of Sirs Abbey, Merrowyr, and Lord Jasper. However, the lack of a female protagonist in your serial has often left me sorrowful. Indeed, a story based in reality would greatly benefit the adventuring genre of fiction, I think, and perhaps inspire further richly deserved accolades for your eminent person.

To this end, I have enclosed an excerpt detailing my own personal adventures of recent in the rural town of Sweetgrove. I know the doings of a single, strapping dwarf warrior are not unusual news to you, having thoroughly enjoyed your novella about Lord Boulder from the earliest parts of your career. In more recent years, characters like Lord Boulder have been a rarity. I would like to see that change! It is my sincerest wish that you might be inspired by these stories to write one featuring a female hero such as myself, or others like me.

I ask nothing in return, save confirmation that you have received my letter, and your opinion about the matter contained within. I am a reasonable woman, and will understand if for any reason you find these adventures unsuitable for print.

Best wishes in all future publications of Traveler's Tales, as it is certainly one of, if not simply the best publication currently sharing fiction within the Realm. I look forward to your response.

-Tamli Green

"McGinty's was a typical feature of Sweetgrove, dusty and tired with the constant strain of merchants coming and going, never staying in town proper longer than necessary. The tavern's walls were slender, bound wood planks of wild mahogany trees nailed inexpertly to keep out as much of the elements as they were able. Their dark, natural color lent the whole place a dim and secret feeling, though the sound of every conversation carried easily if voice rose above a whisper. Here, travelers nursed their wounds to health, told their tall tales, and sought ale enough to drink away the darker visions that plagued them.

Many adventurers were regular visitors here, and McGinty permitted the fledgling Adventurer's Guild to coordinate their missions in his halls. They made use of his back room when mapping out their excursions to the wilderness surrounding Sweetgrove's beleaguered walls, and paid him fine coin for his services as tavernkeep and information hound alike. With only one arm left him after his harrowing career in the dungeons of Firedale, McGinty was fond of rogues and ruffians, for he had been one of them, not so very long in the past.

On a particularly sultry summer's morning, Tamli the dwarf sat opposite her effeminate ex-lover, Gump, and the illustriously lovely Marinelle, temptress and elf of the first order of magery. They were sharing a drink of fine whiskey and discussing Marinelle's sojourn into the dreaded Caves of Chaos. There, she had lost her entire cadre of followers not six weeks before to the foul and violent hordes of kobolds within. Though Marinelle sought vengeance for her fallen friends, Gump feared for the lives of any who might venture to the caves.

For her part, Tamli thought such a mission would serve her well, as she was down to her last copper. She suggested they go anyway, for as cruel as an honorable death might seem, life, too, was looking grim.

Just then, the barkeep whispered surreptitiously, gesturing the three adventurers to step closer, and went back to the arduous task of cleaning used mugs for later customers. He spoke in the coded tongue of all adventurers, so that they might not be overheard despite the sound carrying within the tavern, and they knew that whatever he sought to tell them must be of terrible importance. Tamli dusted the light grime of travel from her coat, approaching the bar and leaning closer to hear, side by side with Marinelle. When she saw that tiny Gump could not hear properly, Tamli adroitly hoisted the androgynous halfling up in her arms as though he were crafted from paper, and set him upon one of the barstools. They then signaled for McGinty to continue.

'Adventurers!' he whispered hoarsely. 'I have heard from old Kaine, the mad wizard of the shanty hut, that he has need of strong arms such as yours! Prithee, abandon your heroic plans for revenge upon the virulent monsters of the Caves of Chaos, and go forth to aid the poor man!'

Tamli expressed some doubt as to the validity of the wizard's need, but the elf Marinelle, who knew of such secrets, bespoke on the wizard's behalf. 'Indeed,' said she, 'a wizard who lives not in a tower but a hut is of the most powerful and dangerous sort. It would not be wise to anger him.'

Satisfied that this mission would be a worthy one, the adventurers thanked kind McGinty for relaying the wizard's wishes to them and went immediately to the hut of Wizard Kaine to proffer their assistance.

The wizard's hut was a den of despair, constructed by the erstwhile erudite entirely of his own hands and falling apart in all places in some way or another. Hidden within the shadowed, unstable structure he waited with lonely eyes and nervous gestures. At but a knock, he answered the adventurers' call, wild-eyed and frothing.

Noble Marinelle stepped forth, asking him what assistance he might need. Meanwhile, Tamli observed his madness with some menlancholy, thinking gratefully of her own resistance to the mind-addling wiles of magic's influence. One could not often be born better than as a dwarf. Indeed, it seemed likely to her and Gump both that Marinelle's compassion for the poor wizard originated in her empathy to him, as a fellow magic user doomed to someday lose her senses after the same fashion.

It became clear after some gesturing and consultation with the Elven gods that the Wizard Kaine sought a rare and mysterious flower called an orchid. Tamli demanded of him the description of the flower, and when he, in his paranoia, sought to deny her, threatened to leave at once. At length, he revealed that this flower was blood-red in color, and grew only near the ancient, lost Keep outside of Sweetgrove, across the river and two days' travel south.

The finely crafted Gump brushed back his long golden hair and suggested that they should receive a reward for such a service; for he knew very well that beyond Sweetgrove lay dangers that might crush his delicate fingers, or ruin his immaculate, nearly ladylike appearance. Marinelle, too, wished to know what amount the wizard would provide them in return for such a service, and Tamli suggested the fair amount of merely two-hundred gold coins. The Wizard Kaine, being an eminently reasonable and generous man, instead offered them one-thousand gold coins or the casting of a magic boon upon their bodies, if they so desired. Both Gump and Tamli had very recently run out of funding for their expeditions into the wild (where sought they glory), and so at once agreed to the offered amount, as it exceeded their humble and gracious expectations.

Marinelle then went to fetch her loyal servant, Ymir of Pholtus. While she did so, Gump prepared his many tools and supplies for the upcoming journey, while Tamli returned to the tavern to retrieve her own supplies. Inside the tavern, her keen dwarven ears picked up the drunken ramblings of a man in the corner, who swore that the ruined Keep was haunted by Goblins and ghosts. Unimpressed, Tamli did not take the warning to heart, and returned to the others. They set out immediately, traveling from the city's eastern gates out into the wilderness beyond Sweetgrove's scored and embattled walls.

While there was a bridge crossing the nearby river, the road did not cut south to the abandoned keep. Taking the lead, Tamli began to chop down the thick, oppressive foliage and lead the group south. Ymir and Marinelle took the defended central position, while Gump took rearguard. It was a grueling and intense journey, through thick ferns and the swampy weather of mid-summer, but they rested well and safe the first night, sharing watches around a campfire by a clearing. Nearby, a stream bubbled softly, like a lullaby breathed by the world itself. By two hours after noon on the second day of travel, they reached the abandoned Keep.

It was an appallingly dessicated structure, rent by time, disrepair, the elements, and active attacks by nature and monsters alike down to its basest parts. All that yet stood were two abandoned watchtowers: the easternmost, which obviously had not been touched in some time, and had holes liberally peppering its crumbling walls; and the westernmost, with evidently recent patching and maintenance performed, to Tamli's trained dwarven eyes, by goblins.

'So,' she mused aloud as they approached, 'the drunkard wasn't lying after all.'

'What do you mean?' Marinelle asked, flinching away as a light rain began to fall, warm with summer and sticky on their already sweaty skin. 'Surely not the Wizard Kaine.'

'Nay, it was one of the regulars in the tavern,' Tamli said. 'He claimed the Keep was swarmed with ghosts and Goblins.'

'Why, but I do not see any goblins,' Marinelle exclaimed, dulcetly cupping her cheek with one fair hand. 'And it is but afternoon, so we are safe from the machinations of ghosts a while yet.'

Gump smiled knowingly and said, 'If my halfling senses are up to snuff, you must surely have noticed Goblin work in the upkeep of that building. It looks suspiciously occupied for a place meant to be abandoned, don't you think?'

'Now that you mention it, it does,' Marinelle agreed, stepping out of the foliage and onto the ruined path leading up to the watchtower's front doors. The others followed cautiously, Ymir in the back, where he would be safer from unexpected attack. 'Then should we expect Goblins within this castle? Or ghosts?'

'Only Goblins can so intentionally fumble masonry as this,' Tamli sighed, irritated by the shoddy patchwork. 'At least humans mean well. No, ghosts will not trouble us here, not today. Let us go inside and smite them.'

Gump spoke up, his tiny voice piping like a warbling flute. 'Wait, my friends! Perhaps it would be possible to reason with the Goblins? Surely if they have seen the flower within their Keep, we can bargain with them instead of killing them.'

Tamli shrugged. 'Perhaps. Goblins are foul creatures; I can promise nothing if they begin to attack.'

'Nor I,' snarled the priest Ymir. 'Wretched creatures!'

'Nor I,' agreed Marinelle, bowing her lovely head in sorrow. 'But you may certainly try, little Gump.'

The watchtower was guarded at front by a set of double stone doors. They each tried to pull them wide but in the end, Tamli's strength finished the work of prying open the doors and baring the halls of the decrepit keep to their eyes.

The moldy corridors beyond were narrow, leading left and right to solid stone doors. To the left, the corridor appeared to continue, so our heroes turned right, where they pried open the next door and revealed a long-abandoned bedroom. Outside, the sky had darkened as clouds rolled in from the north, and the rain was now falling in sheets, spilling liberally through the ruined ceiling of this room. At its center, somewhat blocking the way to the door at the northern end of the room, was a large split in the stone, knee-deep and wide enough to keep a reservoir of scummy water even when dry. Of course, between the shoddy ceiling and the ever-escalating pressure of the rain, the sunken hole was filled to brimming with foul, tepid water.

Marinelle's keen eyes spotted something flashing beneath the water, and she reached unflinchingly into the filth, scrounging through slime and algae to fish the thing out. When she held it aloft, it proved to be a silver figurine of a woman, only partially tarnished.

'Perhaps it is a holy relic?' Marinelle turned the figurine over, musing at its fine craftsmanship.

Behind her, Ymir scoffed. 'There are none but Pholtus in this world that are holy! That is an artifact of the false-deity Kord. Put it from your mind! Put it away!'

Unperturbed, Marinelle stowed the figurine in her pack, for it seemed to her that it might prove quite valuable. What remained, of course, was to find a way across the vile water and to the other side, ideally without becoming soaked in the brine.

A waterlogged, decrepit bed floated in the water, and seeing her chance, Tamli dashed towards it, leaping across the scummy pondlike hole and landing briefly on the bed. Before it could sink and crack beneath her weight, she leapt again, landing safe and dry on the opposite side, near the room's only other door. With much grousing, Marinelle the elf and Ymir crossed the water, slogging through its slimy center. Gump swam across, and smelled far the worse for it after, his hair clinging clumps to his face as he surfaced on the northern side.

Beyond the next door stood a corridor, which the heroes proceeded to investigate thoroughly. One room was filled with splinters, as of long-unused or destroyed beds or barrels. Another was strewn with scattered treasure. Gump dashed out towards it, spotting a fine dagger amongst the rest and lunging to secure it for himself.

But from above, there came danger! Hideous green slime enveloped him at once, nearly snuffing out the flame of his life. Thinking quickly, Tamli ripped the torch from Ymir's trembling hands and set fire to the hideous monster. It snapped with tongues of flame for an instant, gleaming blue, and then disappeared in a breath of foul smoke, leaving Gump singed, but still whole.

The dagger that had nearly cost him his life did seem to Gump to have the rare magical properties of an enchanted weapon, so they proceeded cautiously up the hallway ever further, following its twists and turns until they reached a room full of sleeping goblins. There lay ten, and two keeping watch, within a make-shift altar that the creatures had crafted in place of what once had been some sort of small temple room. Now, their vile rat-headed god stood in idol on the altar, and they began to mutter in their insidious and dishonest tongue amongst themselves.

Tamli stood ready to fight, but Marinelle and Gump, educated in the uncouth tongue of the beasts, bid her wait for just a moment while Gump-- still dripping wet, lightly burnt, and smelling of the tepid scummy pond-- beseeched the goblins to wait and speak with them.

Their sentries seemed completely unwilling to negotiate; Gump asked in a panic if they had seen the orchid, and Marinelle confirmed that they both said they had and had not, and were trying to trick Tamli's poor companions into setting aside their weaponry.

When the entire group of kobolds appeared to be awake, Tamli surmised that Gump was in over his head and pulled him from the room to ensure his safety, whilst Marinelle backed away as well. Tamli kicked shut the door and, with an unlit torch, tried to seal it. Regrettably, this did not hold, and the goblins burst forth, trying to murder our heroes and caroling in their vile, incomprehensible tongue.

Tamli blocked their attacks upon her with her sturdy wooden shield, stabbing those that passed through the doorway and protecting Marinelle, who stood behind her. Ymir the priest shrieked in protest of the unholy altar to the rat-faced god, while Gump struggled not to be downed by the goblins' vicious attacks. Using her elven magicks, Marinelle was able to put back to sleep half of the twelve goblins; between Tamli's steady sword and Gump's newfound dagger, the remaining six were slain immediately. Within the room of the altar, our heroes finished the work by killing the rest of the goblins-- lest they wake and try to attack again later-- before returning to the corridor they had been traveling along.

At its end was another door, but Marinelle's keen elven eyes once again discerned something unusual, and she traced the outlines of a previously invisible hidden door.

'A door!' cried Gump. 'We must go in and see what lurks behind it!'

'No,' answered a muffled voice from the other side of the door; it was a goblin voice, but spoke in the common tongue, unlike those of the altar room. 'You must not!'

Barreling into the hidden room, our heroes found themselves confronting a bejeweled and arrogant goblin, and three other, ordinary goblins beside him. Behind him sat a chest, filled with treasure. Tamli smirked, stepping forth, confident that the jeweled goblin must be the one who had spoken the common tongue.

'You, goblin! Where is the red orchid hidden in this Keep?'

When the goblin did not answer her, Marinelle and Gump stepped forth menacingly, and repeated her question. Terrified, he spoke in a stutter. 'Th-the flower-- we thought it must be worth something, so we kepts it here. Please, spare my life, and the lives of my friends! We will flee this keep forever, and trouble no one more, ever again!'

Tamli graciously accepted, but Marinelle stepped forth, brandishing her spear with a scowl at the goblin leader. 'We cannot trust him, dear Tamli. Indeed, where is the flower, if he claims to have it?'

Whimpering pitifully, the goblin swore, 'It is right here, it is right here! Let me show you...'

He lunged with his short sword, trying to strike at Marinelle's unprotected friend, Ymir, but Tamli blocked his treacherous strike with her trusty shield, and handily lopped off his head in a single blow. Seeing their leader defeated, the remaining goblins fled screaming up the halls, and the adventurers let them go, searching instead through the hidden room for a key to unlock the treasure chest that the goblin leader had been guarding.

At length, they found such a key hidden in his left boot (a common trick of goblins, as one might know from experience) and, upon unlocking the chest, discovered that he had indeed been keeping the flower, for it was hidden here. Tamli placed it safely within her pack, and they proceeded back out into the hallway, where there remained but a single door left to investigate. From within, they could hear the tortured cries of frightened humans, and so they burst through the doors at once, resting not even a breath. Such is the way of adventurers; they cannot stand to hear another creature suffer unjustly!

Within this last room were barrels, long-abandoned, containing what might have been wine at one point, but now smelled of vinegar. There lay a large rug, nailed down over the wooden floor, near its center and along the back wall, two human men, chained back to back by manacles that bound their wrists. It was these men whose screams the heroes had heard, and their jailors were four deadly, vicious hobgoblins with murder in their eyes.

Ymir, the priest, became enraged to see how the poor, frightened men suffered, and attacked with a mad dash, slamming his mace with such force and rage into the skull of the hobgoblins' leader that he was dead instantly, and dropped like a stone to the floor. As the heroes tried to intervene and save him, Ymir was brought to his knees by the remaining hobgoblins, who screeched in rage to see their master taken down by a simple human.

Gump's daggers made short work of the first hobgoblin, but when the second was about to meet with Tamli's blade, the last remaining shouted, 'Stop. It is finished!' and dropped to his knees, commanding his fellow with an unsubtle glance to follow.

Intrigued, the heroes cautiously lowered their weapons, waiting to see what would happen. 'Why do you stop?' Marinelle inquired, keeping her spear at the ready just in case. Tamli knelt as they bespoke each other, and began to bandage Ymir's devastating wounds. Though he bled profusely, the priest yet lived; and through his faith, surely, she thought, he would be healed, as well.

The hobgoblin who spoke answered Marinelle's query demurely: 'You have defeated our leader in battle; you are strong, and we are weak. We surrender to you, and offer our services.' Lifting his head, he looked each of the heroes in the eye in turn. 'For one year and one day, we will serve you without question. Do with us as you will.'

Marinelle mused aloud, 'It would not be wise to travel with such companions if losing a battle should sever their ties of loyalty to us.'

Gump answered, 'Perhaps only as long as they are in this castle with us, and then we can leave them here, to be our guards and prevent any further monsters from taking it over when we return to town.'

But as she finished bandaging the priest, Tamli searched the body of the hobgoblin leader, finding a key for the manacles that bound the frightened human men in the corner of the room. She frowned, her thoughts whirling, and said, 'Tell us, hobgoblins. Are you the only monsters in this keep? What of this rug? It is too new to have been left here by the Keep's old occupants-- why is it nailed into the floor?'

Lowering his head in shame, the hobgoblin answered. 'No; there is a great, wretched spider in the western half of this tower; it came from a hole beneath this rug before we had sealed it. We avoided the spider and slept here. Save the goblins and the spider, no other beast makes residence in our halls.'

Tamli tossed the key to Gump, so he might free the manacled men from their chains, and entered into conference with Marinelle. 'We must rest here for the night, for Ymir's sake at the very least. The trip back to town is not short, either; but I will not sleep soundly knowing there is a giant spider lurking in these halls.'

'Neither would I,' agreed Marinelle. 'Let us leave our friends safe here, under the watch of the hobgoblins, and we shall kill the spider in the meantime.'

'Will we leave tomorrow?' worried Gump, as he assured the freed men-- a magician and a thief also, evidently, part of the adventurer's guild-- that they would be safe for now. 'We might someday make something of this castle, but I wouldn't want to stay today!'

'Yes, exactly,' agreed Tamli. 'Let us go!'

So our heroes proceeded back to where they had first entered the tower, and sought out the hiding place of the dreaded spider. It lurked silently, and left few traces. They searched the rooms of the tower cautiously, until they found one divided at its middling point by a great curtain, depicting a tapestry of battle.

Tamli peered behind the curtain and saw in horror the spider, lurking, ready to pounce and end her friends and herself with a single bite of its highly poisonous, deadly mandibles! Moving like the lightning itself, she struck through the curtain, piercing deep within the spider's thorax and ripping away its carapace. With a startled screech of shock, it died, and at last our adventurers relaxed, safe in the knowledge that they would sleep unmolested through the night.

Come morning, the priest Ymir had regained consciousness, and the three heroes were prepared to forge a path back to Sweetgrove. With one hero each to the injured men who traveled beside them, they bid the hobgoblins farewell, asking them to watch over the abandoned keep and ensure that no further monsters took hold within its echoing, empty halls.

They returned to town without incident, escorting their wounded to healing by a priest of the mighty Sunlord Pelor, whose light is life. The muggy summer malaise had begun to clear from the air already, and as our mighty adventurers returned to the mad wizard Kaine to gift him his orchid, the sky was clear again, clear and new with promise of a brighter tomorrow.

Armed with their reward and some small trinkets they had picked up along the way inside the Keep, the heroes parted ways once more. For on the morrow, there would be another person in need, and another horde to vanquish, be it the kobold horde of the Caves of Chaos, or the wicked Lizard Men in the swamp due south. And though they scarcely knew it, the townspeople had protection already at hand, for 'no challenge is too great'.

This is the code by which adventurers live, in Sweetgrove."

[Lydia]

Marrin Stone
Sorceress Powered Publications
Stafford City
The Realm

Dame Stone,

Enclosed, please find the next excerpt of my recent adventures in the wilderness around the town of Sweetgrove. I was most delighted to receive your letter the other day, and shall endeavor to provide you with material as regularly as I can.

Should you ever wish to solicit a visit to Sweetgrove, I will gladly accommodate you.

Looking forward to the latest edition of Traveler's Tales!

-Tamli Green

"On that morning, the sunlight filtered finely through the open roof of the temple of Pelor, to birdsong and joy of life itself. Once more, the adventurers of Sweetgrove sought glory and justice in the name of exploration and the Realm. They bespoke the priest, sir Thomas, and he called them forth, beseeching them to drive out the wicked bandits of the Ice Lord that had taken up residence within the tomb of Pelor's hero, Elward.

Many adventurers stepped forward for this fine task: Effane, a powerful dwarf of pure mountain stock, broad of shoulder and stern of countenance; Greta Boulderbust, Dwarf of the far-away lands of Sandstone, with fetching beard upon her chin; Alice, the mutant child and witch, with red upon her hair and skin as pale as death; Loreleina, friend to Marinelle the elf, with the fierce determination of royalty in her eyes; and numbered among them was, at the last, Tamli the dwarf, wielder of the longsword Argentier and friend to the good priest sir Thomas.

They set out upon the road at once, traveling through the rough forest and violent foliage in search of Elward's tomb, followed by the noble hounds belonging to Alice and Greta. Upon their arrival, they were beset by the odor of a horrible stench! Within the tomb, foul kobolds had made their housing and accumulated such a wretched pile of filth that the heroes had to set it aflame at once, lest there be perilous monsters within the filth waiting nearby to bring them harm. The smoke and sound lured out the filthy creatures, and-- in their benevolence-- the dwarves Greta and Effane merely tied up the kobold menaces, rather than killing them outright.

As Effane, backed by the elf Loreleina's imposing glower and the threat of the witch, Alice's mysterious magics, the kobolds began to question them as to the location of the bandits, Greta walked the perimeter with her faithful hound, and Tamli checked the approach to be sure there were not more of the monsters, returning after a long absence to the tomb turned hideout.

Instead of monsters, however, her eye spotted a young and distraught fellow adventurer! Beautiful and ebullient Charlie, a young priestess of the sun-god Pelor, was wandering about in search of the very tomb, sent some days before by the good Elder Thomas. Calling to her, Tamli asked where she had been, and the young priestess could but shake her head and say only, "I do not know; I have been so very lost, I feared I might happen upon the lizard men of the marsh!"

Within the tomb, our noble adventurers continued, stealthily passing up the corridors of that once-hallowed place. There were many rooms obviously recently used for sleeping by many bandits, and even an abandoned altar bearing the tapestries of Pelor, Elward's god. The faded tapestry caught the priestess Charlie's eye, and she salvaged it to repair and clean it as was due respect.

Soon, the adventurers encountered a mysterious magical wall, locked with a mysterious device that seemed to be the very stone itself. The witch Alice and the elf Loreleina puzzled over it for many minutes, while the other adventurers proceeded up the hall and came upon a vast and raucous kitchen filled with the enemy legion of the very bandits Thomas had warned them would be there.

Tamli, being the fastest of the combatants present, stepped forth into the mess hall of the enemy army with a confident laugh, and the rest followed at her back, making an impressive force of their own. The army numbered almost fifty, and the adventurers barely six, but our heroes stood firm in the face of such adversity, demanding to know the location of the bandits' leader. Was that person in this very room?

A man stepped forth, admitting that the leader was further in, but that they had no reason to allow the adventurers to see him. He was, in fact, deep in the midst of a vicious and evil magic ritual that he swore would grant him the ultimate, horrible power over undead beings that all evil magic users seek. Alarmed, Tamli tried to negotiate with the bandits, tricking them by pulling out the miraculous oracular skull of Kalith, the ancestor of her tribe.

She promised them that the skull could answer any question, and demonstrated by asking a clever question: Skull, is there a magic wall within this place that may only be unlocked by a secret magical key? When the skull of Kalith answered 'yes', the bandits began to fight amongst themselves like children, desperate to have its magnificent power-- for they, too, as Tamli had suspected, knew of the magical lock in the stone that she and her fellows had seen.

Tossing the skull among them, Tamli, Effane and Greta leapt into their ranks and began to expertly destroy the bandits, cutting them down to a man until all of the bandit army lay slaughtered and dead on the floor, brought down by their own greed. Greta cleaned the blade of her axe with a fierce and joyous smile of victory, while Effane hollered cheerfully, and hefted his own weapon with a bloodstained smile. Dwarves, of all the creatures in this world, truly are the most magnificent and beautiful; both of them, standing beside Tamli, were awe-inspiring in their powerful, nearly feral violence.

Once she had retrieved the oracular skull of Kalith, Tamli motioned for the heroes to proceed onward. Cautiously, they crept up the corridor until they reached the central part of the crypt itself. Here, Elward's defenseless body lay in prayer, seeming almost to ask his cruel tormenter not to force him into any evil deeds. Above him stood the bandit leader, a ferocious and terrible warrior of both magic and the sword.

So great, so intense and so pure was the will of the fallen hero Elward that it imbued the adventurers with a holy power, and as they stepped into battle with the wicked bandit leader, they rushed and destroyed him with the combined fury of their weapons. Blood sprayed from his mouth as Loreleina and Effane shared the final blow, and Greta and Tamli removed his offensive head and his feet, per the dwarven cultural rite of the dead.

It was done! And our brave heroes, every one of them, lived to tell the tale of their great deeds. Before we left, the spirit of Elward himself greeted us and thanked us, in an older version of the tongue that was hard to understand, for our immense help in defeating his oppressors.

[Lydia]

Marrin Stone
Sorceress Powered Publications
Stafford City
The Realm

Dame Stone,

Have not had much time to write in past two weeks. Enclosed please find summary of latest exploits in Sweetgrove. Received signed copy of spring issue for Traveler's Tales, thank you! Very thoughtful.

-Tamli Green

Eternal winter descended rather suddenly and unseasonably! It was already the heated part of spring and no storms had been blowing in. They seemed to simply descend on us and fill the town.

Wicked men in service of a dread lord known as the Ice King arrived on a flying boat that demanded the return of a scepter belonging to this wintry personage. They murdered a townsperson before good cleric Charlie had finished with driving them off. The thief who'd procured the item came forth and fearfully asked myself and companions Charlie, the bard Damien Wright, and a witch named Alice to return it in his stead. We agreed to do so.

The boat, powered by magic, flew through the sky as if upon a sea. We traveled immediately, worried that the unseasonable frost would do great harm.

Within ice fortress: Ice King; his minions and army; mercenaries who would be heroes; icy halls; ice forge; also, some secret passages and a trapped treasury.

Attacked at once by mercenaries hoping to steal the scepter from us and placate the Ice King themselves. We handily dispatched them, then proceeded deeper. We found the kitchen, where recently thawed men were drying off beside the fire. They expressed ambition for the Ice King's throne, which we ignored; they also directed us his way.

The Ice King shuddered to life once the witch Alice placed the scepter in his frozen hand, a wicked thing, clearly evil. The witch readied her spells, I my sword, and Damien the Bard bravely wielded his crossbow. Charlie, innocent, believed that to show honor and respect to the Ice King would placate him.

He demanded I kneel! I, Tamli Green! I who kneel for no one! I refused, and he came at me. Again and again he struck my body with his flesh-deadening touch of ice, but I withstood the pain and pushed on, bashing through his defense and screaming my defense. I am a dwarf! I am of the mountains! Mountains cannot kneel to detritus such as this foolish thing. When at last I stood triumphant over his body, I was weak with the glorious battle but my heart raced with eagerness to fight again.

We found many things to fight within that place. A wicked creature within a room that housed a forge lit by mysterious magic that created a flaming ice; he claimed to have loosed an Etin that would murder us, so we hastily killed him and his orc companions to be certain he could not call it against us. A white dragon woke within a room where once had bunked the ice king's army, and Damien set it aflame with breath of fire after quaffing a mysterious potion. Truly, it was a glorious thing he did.

We found a heavily trapped room, and surmised it led to the treasury. Knowing that there might yet be monsters lurking about and we were in such pains from our battle wounds, we fought our way inside and rested there. A locked vault is sometimes the best campsite an adventurer can hope for.

We also located an altar of Moradin. That blessed place; when encountering the men who'd been in the kitchen before a second time, we discovered they had plans of trying to revive the Ice King's kingdom by using the scepter, so made quarrel with them. And the vile creatures! They were duergar, not men at all! I hacked their unsightly corrupted bodies into pieces and we cut down the monster they'd kept hidden in the kitchen as well. Their wretched familiar, a vile corpse-eating creature designed to hide their evils from the world.

Following our return to Sweetgrove, it seemed Eternal Winter had parted once more, as we'd been promised. Still, knowing the fate of the young man who'd died to the warriors, I went straightaway to the holy place of the human sun-god, and paid the Elder, Thomas, to revive that man with most of my funds collected in my adventures.

In the weeks since, I have been working on that man's farm since he is still recovering. Soon, I must return to work! Now is the most delicate time of the season.