Chapter 3

The Group Talks Votig Down
As the wellspring is destroyed, Oren steps over to Minerva. He places some copper and a drawing into her hand. “You should have these, they were your father's. I wish we could have helped you but we're obviously not heroes. Good luck with your rebellion."

She accepts the items and stares at them blankly, lost in her own thoughts.

Oren starts to turn away, but after a moment, remembers to turn back to her. "Sorry."

The mage steps towards the dwarf, who is hammering angrily at the wellspring. "Votig, I know you're angry and you think the well is corrupting us but it's not. It's just a source of magic and makes magi stronger. The wells are important, and without them our world would be doomed. Magic is one of the only things keeping the government from completely oppressing everybody. There are mages and wizards who can stand up to the police, and if you destroy the wells there will not only be a surge of magical beasts in the area, but people will die, even in cities. You can't destroy them, you need to calm down and accept that this well is a force of good in the world. I know Minerva didn't do a great job of convincing you but you have to trust me."

He gives Eliam a glance, pleading with him to step in.

"I um. I thought those were important?” The bard asks. “Can we fix it? I don't think we were supposed to break those. If things are gonna get that bad I think this might be bad. We need to leave, people are going to be pissed we did this, holy shit.”

"Maybe we can fix it,” Oren says. “Nobody knows we did this, we won't get in trouble but it's worse than that. But if we can undo the damage maybe things will still be alright."

"Yeh? Except there be orc mages as well, who be gettin' fueled from these springs. I didn't break it just ta fix it again, anyhow. If ya want to try, that's on you." Votig turns to start walking away, satisfied with his work. "You were right Oren. We aren't heroes. This isn't my fight anymore. I wish ye luck, however, in yer travels." He looks at Minerva disgustedly. "Well, some of ye that is."

"Wait, wait! You can't go, what about the police?” Oren protests. “Don't you want to stop them from oppressing people? Eliam and I were just drawn into that fight by chance, but you stood up to the cops yourself. You saved that man's life. And every day those cops are out there doing the same thing to other people. What if it's your mother's inn next time? What do you think they did to that bar as soon as we left? You are stronger than anyone I've ever met, you could surely make a difference in this world and make up for this if you help the Lyriad."

"Oren... Oren's right,” Eliam agrees. “And I'm sure we don't want to go down in history as the people who destroyed the world and unleashed all the monsters."

"And what good has it done?” asks Votig. “What good will it do? Sylvatir doesn't need a secret group like this, fightin' worthless battles in lifeless forests. I destroyed the wellspring meself and nothin' bad happened, so why were we here? What they need is an army, and we ain't it. While we were out here, they be terrorizin' the citizens in countless towns. I can oppose them meself in me travels and do more good then the Lyriad has done. And what I want now is to find a way to reverse whatever change that damnable well did to me."

"You should use the power it gave you to destroy the people responsible and try to change things,” replies Oren. “If you do that you'll really make a difference, not saving a few dozen people here and there before you're arrested."

"If I was interested in havin' this power, I woulda jumped in the spring like ye did."

"Well you didn't have a choice. The universe wanted you to jump in so you could fulfill your destiny. The aether made you stronger for a reason, and you shouldn't reject that gift. The well is important and you ruined it." Oren gestures to the well as he speaks, suddenly noticing the lotus growing near the pool. He falls to his knees, and gently lifts it from the aether to keep it safe.

Votig sighs. "Ye always have a choice, lad. Maybe when yer older, ye'll understand. This isn't how I wanted to fight, universe be damned."

"Honestly, if we want to make a difference, this could be our chance, Votig,” Eliam says. ”The Lyriad as we saw it is a complete joke. One or two members doing nothing of consequence in small towns. But they do seem to have some manner of infrastructure set up; Minerva and I got here through yet another small chapter in nearby town with a teleport stone. If they don't have a plan to change things, we could simply take over and give them one. Sticking around could give us an opportunity to help and use what resources they have."

Votig laughs at the thought of a coup, situation be damned. "Ya? And ya expect them to just follow along with whatever we say? But at the end of the day, it's just what ya say. Small chapters, no army. Even if ya take out the leaders, ya still got their police to deal with."

Minerva continues to stares at the items Oren handed her. Once or twice she's looked up at Votig or Oren but each time she inevitably goes back to looking at the photograph. Finally, after listening to the whole conversation, she walks wearily over to Votig and says, "Votig, I know we're small and we seem disorganized. I know we need an army... I know everything looks hopeless. But what would you have me do instead? Tell me how to help save people, Votig. Tell me why I got this power if I'm not supposed to help anyone with it!"

"You can help people,” Votig answers. “I never said ye couldn't, it's just not fer me. It's obvious this isn't working, and hasn't been working. Do ye even know how many chapters of the lyriad there are? The leader of the organization, how to contact them? Or was it yer father, who died nobly in the back alley of a farm town, to some no name orc captain, not even the orc we were after?"

Oren gently puts the flower away into his bag. He hops up, hugs Votig and whispers excitedly, "You fixed it you made it grow back thank you.” He grins and kisses Votig on the cheek. “Thank you thank you you're amazing your punches are the best.”

Oren lets go and stumbles away towards Minerva. "We should go to town, is there an inn there? It's late..." he starts walking towards town, pulling at her arm as he walks by her. "C'mon."

"Eh? Fixed what lad?” Votig asks, confused. “I broke it remember?"

The Group Returns to Saloria
Wounded, tired, and sore, the party miraculously returns to Saloria. Morale is low as the effects of the previous adventure have yet to be fully understood. Everyone understands that there will be consequences for how the adventure shook out. No one knows what those could possibly be.

Minerva says nothing, and as the party arrives at the inn close to midnight, she enters one of the rooms, locks the door, and answers no knocks at the door for the rest of the night.

Oren creeps into the room with two twin beds slowly. Upon claiming the room he goes downstairs and, with the assistance of the innkeep, he gathers a bowl filled with clean water.

Votig claims the third room for himself. Eliam enters the room Oren is in. As he steps inside, the mage looks at him awkwardly, quietly hiding the bowl of water under his bed as the bard sets aside his things.

While Eliam is distracted, Oren quietly cuts himself and drips some blood into the bowl. "Er... what are you doing?" Eliam asks, noticing his odd behavior. “Are uh... are you okay?”

"Yeah, I'm fine,” Oren answers, bandaging his wrist casually. Eliam sits back, assuming the mage was injured in the fight. "Do you think Minerva's still upset?” Eliam asks.

"She's always upset."

"You're not wrong."

"Are you upset? Everyone else is."

"I'm just not sure what to do,” Eliam answers. “That got kind of crazy. I can't shake the feeling we messed up somehow."

"It's all okay now though,” Oren says.

"That's good. Hopefully everyone feels better tomorrow."

"You know lots of girls, right? Do you know the girl we saw?"

Eliam shakes his head. "I've met a lot, but I didn't recognize that one in particular. Maybe we'll meet her later? To be honest I don't understand why the fountain showed us all those faces anyways. It was just our group."

"But she's not in our group."

"Well, it was everyone in our group besides her."

"Maybe she's a friend of Minerva's," Oren wonders.

"Oh, that could be actually,” Eliam says. “We should try asking her when she leaves her room"

"Do you think she's going to kill more cops?"

"I really hope not. That would be the last thing we need at this point. We didn't leave any witnesses, so hopefully they don't come after us."

The two continue their talk. As the conversation winds down, Oren flops onto one of the beds and falls asleep.

The Group Talks about the Previous Day
Early the next morning, the sun has yet to rise, though it is just peeking over the horizon. Minerva sits on a hill near to the inn, her cloak wrapped around her shoulders snugly. She gazes up at the night sky with a serene smile on her face. Between her hands, a flame is suspended in mid-air. It is tiny, and gives off scarce warmth or light, but it exists. It exists.

She reflects on the events of the last week. If she had known days ago what she knows now, of what she'd lost, and what others would gain... what could she have done differently? Her mind turns over and over as the little flame dances between her palms.

As the blackness recedes a single star a time, Minerva, puzzled, thinks back to Linea's words: that the wellspring was a source of magic in the world, and that surely magic would be weaker and more powerless to inspire change in the physical realm, and yet, here... Here in her hands was proof of the opposite. She was no mage, aether did not bend to her whim, magic did not spring to life around her... and yet now, with magic waning worldwide, conjuring flame seemed like something she'd been born knowing how to do. Nothing made sense.

Would Linea know the answer? She gazed into the dancing ember and tried to focus, hoping to divine meaning from its translucent flicker, but no answers were forthcoming. This seemed preposterous.

Votig, in his room, reflects on the events of the previous night as well. If he knew what he knew last night, he never would've joined up with this lot. If someone managed to get into his locked room, they'd immediately notice that he hadn't slept that night. He had done nothing but drink, with the many kegs they brought on their trip smuggled into his room. It was the only thing that felt right anymore.

With the sun having fully risen, Minerva sits in the inn's breakfast lounge, working her way through toast, eggs, and bacon.

Oren wakes up, cleans himself and changes his clothes. He goes downstairs to meet with Minerva. She smiles as he sits. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

Oren greets her with a tiny wave, and looks around awkwardly. "Nobody else is here?"

"There were a lot of people when breakfast started at seven, but everyone went off to start their day."

"Who?"

Minerva shrugs. "Tourists? A few farmers. No one I knew."

"Okay," Oren responds as he tries some of the food on the table.

"So, uh... how have you been feeling? I thought I might feel weird after yesterday, but... I'm okay," she says.

"I'm fine."

"Are... you sure? You seem kind of quiet..."

Oren thinks about her question, quietly picking at his food but failing to answer.

Minerva sits awkwardly, poking at her food gingerly with her fork. "Um... have you thought about what you'd like to do next?" Minerva asks quietly.

"Maybe we can stay here for a while. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to,” Oren replies.

Minerva shakes her head. "To be honest, I don't really... know what to do right now. I'd like to hear from everyone and see if anyone has a good idea."

"Eliam is asleep, go ask him"

Minerva nods, then shrugs slightly. "I guess I can go see if he's up..." She leaves Oren at the table, and knocks quietly on Eliam's door. After a moment, he opens the door.

"O-oh. Good morning, Eliam. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. How um... how are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. Or I was, Oren seems very... unsociable today. Are you feeling all right after yesterday? We went through a lot..."

"I'm fine! I think that's just Oren being Oren. I'm glad you're feeling better, though. You seemed a bit upset."

She chuckles from embarrassment. "It's been a rough week. I was happy... now I'm just confused. I... I feel warmth. Not just, like, I feel warm, I feel warmth itself. I sense heat. It's strange. Do you... feel anything?

"I don't really feel anything out of the ordinary, to be honest. I guess this means we should go wake Votig?"

She laughs this time, a genuine smile on her face. "We can try."

"Well, now you mention it actually,” he says after a moment, “I have felt like magic is a bit... stronger, in general? I can sense it more. Maybe we really did do some good in that forest." He looks over at Votig's door. "I'll uh... leave waking Votig to you."

Minerva just frowns. This makes no sense to her at all. "But... but that was supposed to weaken magic. What did we do...?"

Eliam shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine. I didn't even know the damn things existed until yesterday. But so far, everything seems to be going well."

Minerva looks doubtful, but she moves to Votig's door anyway. She knocks gingerly. Turning back over her shoulder, she says to Eliam, "Oren is downstairs eating, if you're hungry."

"Thanks," he says, going downstairs to get food.

Minerva knocks on Votig's door. “Votig, are you up?"

A combination of glass shattering and dwarvish cursing comes from behind the door. "Yeh? What d'ya want,” he slurs from behind his door.

"A-are you okay?”

"M'fahn."

"Did... you have a drink last night?" Minerva smiles a little. "I wondered what happened to those kegs. Would you like to come join us for food?" Minerva waits for an answer, and eventually moves downstairs when none comes, joining her companions at the table. After some time, Votig joins the group as well. She looks around at each of them and seems uncertain what to say.

"So, uh..." she starts, uncomfortably. "Last night got... interesting. Things happened. We changed. Things were said. What do we do from here?"

"Do we... pay... for this food?" Oren asks, slinking down in his chair. "We should stay here and act normal.”

"Works for me. No one knows we did anything, after all,” agrees Eliam.

Minerva crosses her arms. "I more meant what do you want to do now that we have these... gifts."

"It doesn't change our goals,” Oren states.

She brightens up immediately. "Really?! You mean it? You'll help me save people?"

Oren rolls his eyes in response and lays his head down on his arms.

"It sounded last night like... we might be finished." She glances briefly at Votig and tries to look away before he notices.

"That was before, now everything is fine," the mage mumbles from the table.

"Oh, thank goodness. There's still so much we can do to help people... especially now." She looks visibly relieved. "I'm still worried about ... that thing that broke, but maybe it won't be so bad. We can stick around here for a while and see what's going on."

Oren gives a weak thumbs up in response and closes his eyes.

"Didn't you sleep?" Eliam asks him.

"Yeah."

"Well, rise and shine then!" the bard says cheerfully, slapping his back.

Oren briefly opens his eyes and turns his head away, continuing to rest his head on his arms.

"Ya want more help, do ya lass?” Votig says, starting in on another beer. “I figure we been helpin' quite a bit. Now I think it’s time ya help us. Or at the very least, me."

Oren smiles and closes his eyes.

The group hears a sudden shout, followed by cries of, "Ah!" and, "Ow!" From a distance, they hear a strong voice shout, "Get a towel!" and moments later, a man is rushing through the inn entrance from the kitchens and leaving in a hurry, a towel around his arm.

Minerva looks at Votig cautiously. "What can I help you with?"

"The bard mentioned that ya met another chapter of the Lyriad, so I reckon there be even more of ya around. Like that healer of yers, perhaps. Ya, that'd make sense, I bet," he burps. "I want this... this thing gone. I figure someone out there know how ta remove magic. Some spell. Maybe you know, mage." He glance over at Oren, whose eyes remain closed.

Minerva looks astonished. "W-what? Why? You've been given a gift, something you can use to help the world! Why would you give that up?"

"Ya think I wasn't strong enough before?” He shouts, slamming his mug on the table. “I been handlin' meself since before yer father was even born."

"Ah!" Oren sits up, startled at the noise. He slinks back down in his chair, leaning back and trying to act natural.

Minerva scowls at the dwarf. "My father was strong, too. But we're talking about resisting a government and their dogs. Any bit helps.”

"Maybe we should go to Thirshalon,” suggests Oren. “Who better to fight a government than another government right?" He smiles and fidgets nervously.

Minerva gives Oren a strange look. "A... are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" he slinks lower and crosses his arms, looking away. "I mean we don't have to. It was just an idea. Never mind."

"N-no, I just," she looks uncomfortable, fearing she's offended Oren too. "I, um... How... how would we even get to... to Thirshalon?"

"I don't know,” Oren answers.

"It doesn't matter what we have. A little bit of power, so what? We still need an army. Or ya gonna face down a few thousand orcs with yer fire daggers? Me havin' magic or not won’t affect the comin' fight.”

"There's probably a carriage or boat or something out to Thirshalon. It can't be too hard to find," Eliam says.

Oren sits up, suddenly alert. "Yes. We just have to find it."

Minerva can't find an adequate answer for Votig, and she's having a hard time understanding what Oren and Eliam are getting at. It's distracting her enough that she doesn't know how to respond to anyone.

"Then we can get the people there to help us fight, they don't like people from Sylvavir. They'll gladly go to war with us.” Oren smiles and looks back and forth between Eliam and Minerva, waiting for them to agree.

"Wait... if they don't like people from Sylvatir, won't they not like us?" Eliam asks.

Minerva tries desperately to keep an incredibly fake smile on her face. Awkward and nervous, she finally spits out, "We... we all remember that Thirshalon was destroyed, like... thousands of years ago, right? The entire continent is gone? That's the place you want us to visit, right?"

"Well maybe but we're pretty likable. Except me, but you're nice, you can talk to them." Oren looks at Minerva nervously; he had hoped she wouldn't remember that. “That's... um..."

Eliam blinks for a moment after hearing Minerva. "I... wait, okay. Maybe we need a new plan."

"Well,” Oren says, “did you see it destroyed? Maybe it's still there."

"How do you even know about this place?" Eliam asks him.

"Well Minerva knows about it too, everybody knows about it, it's in books." Oren turns to Votig. "You're really old right? You just said that, do you remember it?"

Minerva feels like she might need some help getting Oren off this Thirshalon kick, so she says, "Okay, look... most of the country's religious scholars live in Fallowfield, right? Maybe if we go there and ask them questions, they can find us a way to get to Thirshalon."

"I thought we just established that Thirshalon doesn't exist?" the bard asks.

As she's speaking, a man in healer's robes walks into the inn. His face is white and he moves directly to the counter to speak to the inn owner.

"Yes! And maybe they can help Votig lose his magic. We should do that!" Oren says, excited.

"Agreed then!" Votig says, waving down a barkeep. "A round of ya finest ale on this lass!"

Minerva, seeing the healer, nudges Eliam under the table with her foot.

Oren, noticing the movement, looks under the table and glances around confused.

The innkeep and the staff hear Votig but none of them move. They're talking to the healer, faces aghast. Votig repeats himself, louder this time. Two workers stand with the inn owner, talking with the healer. One of the workers gives Votig a nasty look as the inn owner's face falls.

Oren whispers to Votig, "you're gonna get us kicked out. Please don't. This inn is nice. We should stay here... for a while... this place is nice, and we need to rest, remember?"

Eliam nudges Minerva to get her attention. "Are you hearing that? That healer just said someone bled out in minutes, and they couldn't heal him. Is that normal?"

Oren offers a slight smile. "They should have told us, I'm a pretty good medic. Oh well."

"He said his healing magic just wouldn't work,” Eliam continues. “I... that wasn't us, right?"

"Well I don't use magic to heal,” Oren continues. “I use bandages and stuff. I used to do it all the time back home whenever the people in the village got hurt.”

Eliam ignores him, continuing to listen to the conversation. “I’d say to offer your services, but it sounds like he's already dead."

Ignoring them, Votig walks up to the group gathered around the healer. He picks the healer up, and sets him off to the side. He then leans in close, and repeats himself once more.

Minerva's face goes white as she sees Votig approach. "Votig. Votig! Stop!"

"Yeah, he's of no use now,” Oren agrees with the bard.

The innkeeper, so sad a moment ago, turns on Votig the moment the dwarf moves the healer. The healer shrinks from Votig, but the innkeep stands his ground.

"Hey... this could be good. If we get kicked out we won't have to pay," Eliam whispers to the table.

Votig looks at the healer and slaps him on the back. "Looks like this lad could use a whole round himself, eh?" he laughs, completely unaware of the situation.

"Oh yeah. What did this cost?" Oren whispers back to the bard, pulling out a handful of silver. "I want to pay you back."

Minerva says quickly, "Breakfast comes with the room, I believe.” "Oh," Oren says, putting his money away and looking at Votig. "But I don't want to be kicked out."

The innkeep grabs Votig's shoulder. "Sir! A man has just died, our colleague and friend. We are trying to understand that situation. Go sit down and we'll help you when we can."

"Ya? Well why didnt ya say so!" Votig gestures over to the group. "We're the Lyriad! How 'bout we help each other? Ya get me some ale, and we'll go figure out the sit-” he hiccups- “uation for ya."

Minerva immediately flies out of her seat and grabs Votig around the neck. "YES. YES WE... ARE ALL... VERY ... TYR--AD. TEEEERED. TIRED. VERY, VERY TIRED. COFFEE WHENEVER YOU CAN PLEASE." She attempts to pull him away.

The healer looks at the group, suddenly suspicious.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Eliam says to Votig.

Oren gets up and walks over to the innkeep. He says to the healer, "If you get any more cuts, I can fix it. I am a doctor."

"Ya? Well yer the one who walked into ta wellspring, not me. Never me,” Votig drunkenly replies to the bard.

As Minerva tries to wrangle Votig back to the table, Oren tries to help by pushing him and standing between him and the innkeep. “Sorry your friend died. This person is drunk."

The healer steps forward, staring curiously. "Wait. Stop, please. What was that? About the wellspring?"

"The alternative was abandoning Oren in the forest there!” Eliam argues, ignoring the healer. “No one's happy about the situation but no one else is shouting to the world that we're part of some secret criminal club!"

"Yes, a doctor, me, indeed,” Oren continues to the healer. “I know it's hard to believe, but I read several books on first aid and half of Westbridge will vouch for my skills as a medic. Anyway, we better get back to our noon breakfast before it gets cold.” He pushes Votig back towards the table.

"No one said anything about a wellspring, our companion is drunk and confused" Eliam addresses the healer.

"No, but..." the healer falls silent. He stares at his own hands for a moment, then back at your party. A moment later he's run out the door.

"He's going to the police. He's going straight to the damn police,” Eliam says, covering his face with his hands.

"Yeah? Ya think I can't take a few orcs? I'll have you know I once killed one in a single hit. Back at this inn... ah, what was it's name...” Votig begins.

Oren looks at the innkeeper. "If anyone else is hurt, I can heal them with not-magic. It's more natural. It doesn't always work but I'll do it for free. I accept pies and well-wishes as payment."

The innkeep looks at the mage, emotionally unprepared to even consider his offer. He takes one final look at Votig and says, disgusted, "Just get the dwarf his ale," to his workers.

"Forget the ale,” Eliam says. “We have to leave before the orcs get here."

Oren whispers to the group, "Votig, you really did destroy it, their magic doesn't work! And neither does mine come to think of it. Good thing I have other talents. How's the music career coming along, Eliam?”

"I haven't really had time to practice,” Eliam says, as he accepts his fate to rot in prison.

"How many more ya think I gotta destroy before mine's gone?" Votig asks in a dwarvish, drunken whisper.

"Well, I think after we stay here for a little while, we should go to that Fallowfield place and ask the monks or whoever to let us borrow their library,” Oren says. “Then I'll find a way to remove it, okay?"

"Y... ya will?” Votig says. “Yer a good lad alright." He gives the mage a dwarven hug and shouts to the inn, "Another round to celebrate!" forgetting he never actually received the first round he requested.

"I don't understand. I felt like magic was getting stronger across the board. I can actually sense some of it now. This makes no sense,” Eliam says.

"I sense things, too,” Minerva agrees. “But... but that healer was weaker. What is happening?"

"Maybe you got stronger BECAUSE you destroyed it,” Oren says. “So don't destroy any more until we're sure. We're well people now. Only we get the magic.”

"Do you know anyone who would know about this stuff to ask? What about that one lady, er, Linda? Linea? Would she know what's happening?" Eliam asks Minerva.

She shrugs. "I doubt she'd know more than what we'd learn in Fallowfield. She'd probably tell us what everyone else would: that Thirshalon is gone and we'd be silly trying to reach it."

Oren glares at her. “Well, then we should definitely not ask her.”

The workers return with a round of ale, despite it being only noon.

Marblearm Shows Up
Eliam chugs the ale gratefully. Votig follows suit, but immediately passes out, having finally reached his limit. As the rest of the party enjoys their drinks and meal, the doors to the inn slam open. The healer has returned.

Behind him stands a figure none of them have ever seen before. A muscular dwarf, beard rolling down his chest and a youthful expression on his face steps forward. He roars in anger as he looks around the room and sees Votig resting on the table.

"I told you, Votig!" he shouts in rage. "I told you you'd never get away from the Marblearm!"

Unfortunately, Votig hears none of this.

Oren looks worried, glancing at Minerva and Eliam. "Votig is drunk, come back tomorrow," he says, trying to defuse the situation. He kicks Votig under the table in an attempt to wake him up.

Seeing Votig fallen face-first onto the table, the new dwarf walks forward, grabs him by the shirt collar and pulls him up. "Look at ya," he spits, glaring at Votig. "Once ya was a selfish, pathetic waste of a dwarf. Now yer that, but yer drunk, too. How useless can ya be?" Marblearm throws Votig's body to the floor. "At me feet, where ya deserve ta be. But this ain't no fun. I'll get no revenge today. Not unless yer awake ta bleed and scream."

He takes one of the pints that had just arrived at the table, drinks half of it in one swig, and pours the rest out on Votig's head. "Anyone got a problem with that?" He looks pointedly at Oren and Eliam.

"I understand you're upset, stranger, but there's no need to waste good beer,” Eliam says in response. Oren takes a napkin and reaches over to wipe the dwarf off some.

Marblearm's nose crinkles after having drank it. "That's fine. Ah dinnae waste good beer. Pathetic," the dwarf says. "An' he's even got babes and women cleanin' up after him. I'm leavin'. This isn't any fun at all. But first, I believe I'm owed."

"Owed?" Eliam asks.

"You there!" he barks at Oren, seeing him close to Votig. "Do anything and you'll face Bassoic Marblearm, prince of the pugilists and First of the Fist.” He searches Votig's body and withdraws some silver. "Is that all ya have, ya little pebble? Such a waste." Bassoic seems pleased at taking the money and so allows Oren to continue cleaning him off. "I'll be back, and next time ya best be awake..."

Bassoic goes to leave, keeping his eyes on the party. The healer begins to withdraw with him.

"Hey, wait, that's not yours,” Oren says.

“It was before he stole it from me!" Bassoic shouts. He steps out the door, the healer at his heels.

Votig is passed out on the floor, drenched with beer. The innkeep has returned to the room and looks pissed off. Eliam quietly slips some of his own silver into Votig's pocket to replace what Marblearm took.

Minerva looks at Votig. "S-should we... do something?"

"He's probably fine,” Oren replies. “I'm sure he can just sleep it off."

Eventually, Votig stirs. Minerva looks at him and says, "So... uh... we had a visitor while you were... napping. What can you tell us about this... Marblearm?"

"Never heard the name before,” the dwarf says, taking a long pull from one of the mugs on the table.

"He didn't like you,” Oren adds.

"I can't imagine why. I'm quite likable, I reckon."

"Yeah,” agrees the mage, “That's true. I guess it's a good thing we didn't fight him. He was probably confused about who you were."

Minerva glares at Votig but says nothing. She purses her lips and folds her arms. Oren looks between the two, concerned.

"It was fine! We handled the whole Marblearm thing. He just walked in for a few minutes and left,” Eliam says, trying to calm the two down.

Finally, Minerva looks at Votig. "Well. If we're all done lying," she says, subtly gesturing at the floor where Votig had been, "perhaps we should make for Fallowfield?"

"Least I'm not the leader of a cult," Votig grumbles into his mug.

"No, not yet,” Oren responds to her.

Minerva jumps up and stomps off. "I'm going to pack," she says, pretending not to hear Oren.

The party quietly waits for her to leave. "I hope she's not like that the whole trip,” Eliam says once he's sure she's gone.

"Hope she likes going alone,” Oren says, annoyed.

"Ya, I agree. Now what'd this... Marblearm? Guy say. Not that I know him, o'course,” Votig grumbles.

"Well, some very angry dwarf walked in and claimed to recognize you. He got upset you were sleeping, though, and left. We tried to stop him, but there was only so much we could do,” Eliam tells him.

"Hmmm,” Votig grumbles once more.

"It was quite the sight though!” Eliam continues. “Once he insulted you, we rose to your defense. He spoke a big game, calling himself the 'prince of pugilists' and other ridiculous titles, but eventually he just ran out of the bar instead of facing us. I suppose he was afraid, given our martial prowess."

"Ya, that makes sense. Good ta' know we got a true warrior here though, right lad?" Votig gives Eliam a friendly slap on the back as he stands to go pack. The others follow suit.

The Group Prepares to Leave Saloria
Minerva meets the party some time later out by the wagon. She yawns, gives her hair a little toss, and asks, "So what was the plan again? Drive by wagon or find a boat?"

The party discusses the plan, while everyone except Oren meets up downstairs. Votig returns inside to retrieve the mage. "Lad? Ya in there?" He asks as he knocks on the door.

Oren flops over to the door and opens it carefully, leaning on the door's frame for support. “What's up?"

"Ya alright? We're down at the wagon waitin' on ya."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Ta' falafelfell, I thought.”

Oren, annoyed, walks past him to the wagon without a response. Votig follows him outside, joining the group at the wagons.

The mage finds Minerva hitching the horses and securing their gear to the wagon. He pulls her away from her task, and whispers to her, "Why are we leaving right now?"

She whispers back, "Do you really want to stay here with that dwarf mugger on our tail? He doesn't know where we're going and we have nothing else to gain from being here. Why not go?"

"Did you hear the healer? He said their magic doesn't work. If someone gets hurt, they'll die like that kitchen guy. But I can heal without magic. We should stay in case something happens."

"What do you expect is going to happen that we need to be here for?" Minerva asks.

"People get hurt all the time. In the town I lived near, there were people coming to get fixed up almost every week, and that place was a lot smaller than this one. People will die if we leave.”

"People will die in every city. We can't save every single life, but if we learn our powers, we can save a lot more than if we just sit here in this town."

"I thought you wanted to help people,” Oren argues. “There are people right here who need our help. But if you really want to go I'll meet you there. Hopefully magic will be fixed soon and they won't need me." The mage walks away, trying to make her feel ashamed.

"I want to help a world," she calls to Oren's retreating back. "A world, not one town. We can do that."

Oren turns to her, but continues walking backwards. "Well I want to save some lives instead of just taking them, so I'll meet you there when I'm done making up for what we've done." He turns back around, making towards the healer's home.

Minerva looks at Eliam and Votig for their opinions.

"Ya two can go ahead if ya want. I've got no reason to leave the mage behind when he be the one who was offerin' to help me,” Votig decides.

"We can't just abandon either of them,” Eliam says to Minerva. “I mean, it's not like we had a solid lead anyways.”

Minerva sighs. She pats the horse and then turns to follow. "So what are we going to do, then?”

"I guess, if our goal is to help people, this is as good a place as any. Maybe we'll find where to go from someone here,” the bard says.

After they decide, Votig leaves in search of a place to upgrade his armor. He finds a small shop near the inn, "Heather's Leathers," that sells a variety of leather goods. Votig enters the shop and looks around.

A woman walks out from a back room and spots Votig moving amongst the wares. "Hello, sir! Can I help you with something?"

Votig eyes the human-sized armors available. "Yeah, lass. Ye have anything in dwarf size? Lookin' fer somethin' a bit sturdier than this." He gestures at the armor he's currently wearing.

"Hm," she mumbles, looking at Votig. "I'll have to get some measurements and make a few adjustments. Would tomorrow afternoon work for a pickup?"

"That'd be fine,” Votig answers. “I've got nowhere I'm in a rush ta be."

She fills out a slip with a job number and takes Votig's measurements. After scribbling some more information down, she hands Votig a ticket and says, "This time tomorrow, please, sir."

"How much ya think it'll be?"

"An unmodified set of heavy leather goes for about thirty silver; this will involve some slight labour, so I'd normally charge an extra ten, but I don't much care to charge a client that much more based on body shape alterations." She taps her chin as she studies the bill. "Thirty-five silver."

Votig hands her the silver, paying the full amount in advance, and leaves the shop.

Meanwhile, Oren searches for Marblearm. Walking down the streets, passerby help point Oren in the direction of a healer's house. It is, in fact, the residence and workplace of the same healer he had seen in the inn. It is a single-story house with a sign out front reading "Healer Jinaya."

The door is locked, so Oren knocks. The healer opens the door. He glances behind him, then looks back at Oren. In a monotone, he says, "Yes?"

"Hello, is your magic broken?" Oren asks.

The healer looks at him, confused. "Are you injured?"

"No, I'm a doctor."

"Have a fine day, then." He slowly begins to close the door.

"Wait. I think, if you need help healing people, I can do it. I can save them and you can get the money."

"I am perfectly capable of applying first aid and traditional medicines, thank you," he says stiffly. "And I strongly doubt your magical curative abilities surpass my own."

"Not magic. Doctor. First aid."

"Then good day." He continues to close the door.

"Wait!" Oren says, sticking his arm out and pulling up the sleeves. Several bandages are already wrapped around his arm. "Heal me. I'll pay you."

The healer looks at the bandages on his arm, and notices the red staining through. His eyes narrow and he sighs. "Enter."

He directs Oren to a seat in a side room and says, "Please remove any clothing that will be stained. I'll suture up your wound and apply some fresh bandages."

"Hey, wait, I thought you were magic," Oren says.

He clenches his teeth. "Sometimes the old ways are best."

"No, I already bandaged it. I need fresh blood so I need a healing spell. I'm low."

He looks at Oren suspiciously, then says, "I will not replenish your blood; your body will do that naturally. Drink juice, avoid alcohol for a few days, and let me re-wrap your bandages."

"I want to see you cast a spell,” Oren insists.

"Do you want my help or don't you?"

"Not really, I wanted help from a mage."

His face turns red. "Then leave," he says, angered. "Close the door on your way out."

Oren walks towards the door. "That's too bad. Marblearm is going to need healing after Votig finds him. That is, if he's not too scared to fight a conscious man."

Oren says his piece and turns to leave. As he moves to return to the door, he finds Marblearm has stepped out from an adjacent room and is standing in front of the exit, one hand on a half-consumed bottle of ale, the other clenched in a tight fist.

Marblearm is furious. "Too scared?! Too scared!? Ya wee babe, yer pathetic pebble o'a dwarf were too scared ta face ME. Let's see if ya do any better!”

He throws the bottle down and charges forward. Oren, out of the corner of his eye, notes that in a room off to his right, there is an open window on the far wall, though a large table and a cabinet stand between Oren and his freedom.

The mage is moving before Marblearm has even taken three steps. He dashes into the room and rolls onto the table. As Marblearm rounds the corner, he sees Oren gracefully land on the floor on the far side of the table. He bounds up onto a chair, hops to the cabinet, and slides out the window. He successfully manages to run away.

Meanwhile, Eliam enters the bar. The lady who was there the night he went in the basement is back behind the counter. She smiles upon seeing him.

"So,” Eliam begins. “We took your advice.”

She looks nervously around. "I gave you no advice, sir. I'm not sure what you mean." She slips some paper beneath a coaster, puts a drink on it, and slides it over to Eliam.

The bard glares at her. "Yeah, I'm sure you forgot all about the ambush you directed us into."

She blanches. "What ambush?" she stammers, her voice kept low. "Tell me what happened!"

"Tell you what-- you insisted we go down there right that minute! Right into a giant group of soldiers trying to crush the wellspring! You did seem suspiciously friendly. I knew something was off."

"You... you were with Samson's daughter! You're one of us," she says defensively. "We didn't have the strength to protect the wellspring but I thought if you were here with her that meant you were surely going to protect it! Please," she says with a touch of desperation, "you did save it, didn't you?"

"One of you?!” Eliam exclaims. “You probably got paid off by those orcs. If you want to know what happened to the wellspring go see it yourself. Votig was right, the Lyriad is bullshit." He stands to leave, taking his beer with him. As he leaves, so too does she get up and retreat into the kitchens behind her.

The Group Regroups At the Inn
Evening draws near. The group meets for dinner at the inn. Minerva asks between mouthfuls of steak, "So. Does anyone have plans tomorrow?" "Eat, drink, be merry?” Eliam shrugs. “Unless you've found some information,” He adds, drinking from the mug he stole earlier.

"I've got ta pick somethin' up in the mornin',” Votig says.

"That healer and Marblearm tried to kill me when I visited them. I offered to help heal patients and they attacked me,” Oren says.

"What?!” Votig exclaims. “I say we pay this healer and Marblearm, though I've never heard his name before, a visit. In the afternoon though, tomorrow."

Minerva looks quizzically at Eliam's mug. "Where did you get that?"

"An old friend gave it to me,” he answers.

"Oh," she says tranquilly. "I didn't realize you had friends in town, Eliam."

"I have friends everywhere I go! A few minutes drinking together is all it takes, usually."

"You should ask Marblearm to come here and fight,” Oren says to Votig. “That way when he's injured I can save him and we can be the good guys.”

"Why would you want to save him?” Eliam asks. “He's been so rude to us.”

"People are really nice to you if you heal them. I used to get a lot of free food. Women would come cook for me all the time to thank me, because they didn't have money to pay. Maybe Marblearm will send his dwarf wife to cook for Votig,” Oren answers.

Minerva glances at Votig as the mage speaks.

"Ah, no need lad. I've got a wife of me ow-" he catches himself, before downing his mug. “But yes, we should definitely deal with them. Can't have them threatenin' me mage buddy, now can I?"

"And the healer, his magic didn't work,” Oren continues. "And I hate him. Very mean."

Minerva sighs. "So it really is true, isn't it? We killed magic."

"We didn't... kill it, necessarily. Our magic is fine!" Eliam says, trying to comfort her.

"There's worse things to be without in the world, like good ale,” Votig adds.

"Once Marblearm is dealt with we can go to Fallowfield and figure that out. But make sure you don't kill him, Votig. And fight him here. I do want to treat him. Then he'll be our friend and that healer will look like a failure,” Oren says.

"Who should deliver the message? He's already attacked both of you before,” Eliam says. “...Er, sorry, he's attacked you, Oren. It'd be irresponsible to send you back.”

"Send a messenger,” Oren says, slumping down in his seat. “I still need to find more injured people. That's why I visited that healer but he wouldn't help me."

"If the fight gets out of control, you may have all the injured people you want right in front of you,” the bard points out.

"That would be great,” Oren responds. “But I don't want any of you to be the hurt ones,”

"I wouldn't be worried about that,” Votig says confidently.

The mage looks at Minerva. "Want to help me find some hurt people? I don't know where they are, but maybe you can ask your Lyriad friends."

"Oh, that's true. I forgot to go back and speak to that lady at the bar. Hey, Eliam," she says cheerfully, "how about we go see her?"

"I'm not supposed to drink alcohol; the healer said it's bad for me,” Oren tells her at the mention of a bar.

"I should really stay back and make sure we're all prepared for the fight,” Eliam replies. “But tell her I said hello, okay?"

"Okay," says Minerva, smiling. "I'm going to go talk to her. Oren, do you want me to meet up with you later once I talk to her, or do you want to join me?"

"I'll come with you if you want. If that's okay,” Oren says. As she doesn't respond, he blushes and slumps down in his chair, assuming he's unwanted.

"She seemed like she was in kind of a bad mood though,” Eliam adds to Minerva. “Just so you're aware.”

“Oh... okay," Minerva says slowly. "I'll meet up with you all later on!" She stands, leaving the inn.

Oren moves to get up, then sits back down, confused. "Am I going?” He whispers to Eliam. “What do I do?"

"Women are weird. She wants you to go; it's okay to go follow her,” he tells him. "I er... might have made the bar lady mad at me though, so it might not be safe."

"Better luck next time lad. Plenty of stones in the mountain,” Votig says reasurringly.

Oren scampers out of the inn to follow Minerva.

Oren and Minerva Talk to the Waitress
Minerva and Oren arrive at the bar and enter. The barmaid takes one look at Minerva and leaves the bar to go back into the kitchen.

Minerva frowns a little and looks at Oren. "She was friendlier last night."

"Maybe she wants us to follow her,” Oren suggests.

Minerva shrugs and says, "Okay, that sounds feasible." She looks around to see if anyone will stop you, but no one is nearby. She gestures toward the door to the kitchen. "Gentlemen first," she says."

Oren confusedly looks around for who she means. He steps through the door uncertainly, waiting to see if he was wrong in assuming she meant him. Minerva follows as he walks back into the kitchen.

As Oren enters the back room, he sees the barmaid speaking to the chef. She looks panicked. He does a little wave and looks at Minerva, waiting for her to say something.

The barmaid gathers her courage and says, "Y-you're not allowed to be back here!"

Minerva sighs. "We already took a trip to your downstairs, what are you so flustered about now?

The barmaid goes bright red, as does Minerva upon realizing what she said. "N-no, I meant--" Minerva begins.

The chef, a burly middle-aged man, walks in front of the barmaid. "Okay, enough, enough! Get out of the kitchen." Oren backs up away from him in response.

Minerva, however, moves forward. She moves to the side to continue talking, even as the chef tries to block her view. "Wait! Wait, please, talk to us! We're also... you know!"

The barmaid shouts back, "It doesn't seem like you are at all!"

Oren reaches over and pulls Minerva's necklace out so they can see it. Minerva looks at him as if to say 'beg your pardon?' and quickly steps away. He ignores her glance, and pulls his own Lyriad necklace out from his pocket. "We're Lyriad, we want to help you."

Minerva follows suit, holding her own pendant up to the barmaid. "Look! You know what this means. Now, please talk to us!"

"Why?!" the barmaid answers. "You already failed, the orcs destroyed the wellspring and now the monsters from the Bramble will claim the town!"

"Well, I'm kind of a doctor,” Oren says. “And since magic is broken I thought I could help your cult with any medical problems you might have... If monsters are hurting people that's an even better reason to stay here, Minerva. Lots of people to help..."

The barmaid looks legitimately offended. "CULT?!"

"I meant the Lyriad. That cult,” Oren replies.

She picks up a frying pan. The barmaid throws a frying pan at the mage, and he narrowly steps out of the way as it collides with a loud thud against the wall.

"Why loud," he says, covering his ears.

Minerva scowls. "Hey! There's no reason for that! We're on your side!" Minerva then turns and grabs Oren by the ear. "And you. I'll say this one time. We. Are. Not. A. Cult."

"Um... I don't understand why you are angry,” Oren says. “But I'm sorry.”

She lets go of Oren's ear. "And you," she says to the chef, who has been slowly advancing to try and box Oren and Minerva out of the kitchen, "you need to settle down and help us figure out what's happening so we can figure out how to solve this."

The chef looks back at the barmaid, who pauses, then nods. "What happened last night in the Bramble?"

"The cops showed up to destroy the well,” Oren explains. "And then Minerva and Eliam teleported in from somewhere. And we killed the cops. I mean, they did, I just watched mostly..."

Minerva nods after Oren. "We walked into an ambush when we teleported from the glyph downstairs. I fell into the wellspring when one of them tackled me. I disappeared, had a vision, and when I came out..." She holds her palm up and suddenly a tiny flame is flickering in it.

Oren covers her hand quickly and shakes his head at her. The barmaid is mesmerized by the flame, but it burns his hand as he reaches to cover it. “"She hit her head, it was awful. She's crazy now," he says.

Minerva gives him a glare. "They're on our side, Oren. They're Lyriad."

He shakes his head at her once more. "Well they're mad we let the cops destroy the well. But we tried to stop them," he says, looking pleadingly at the cook and the barmaid.

"So," the barmaid says slowly. "You're saying the Rorgh destroyed the wellspring... and you weren't able to stop them? Even after Minerva gained some... new magic?"

Oren nods. "The well was destroyed, but we'll try to fix it."

Minerva glances sideways at Oren and cocks an eyebrow. The barmaid shakes her head. "If the wellspring is destroyed, there will be no repairing it. We must accept that it is gone, and magic forever drained."

"I don't know,” Oren insists. “We’re going to Fallowfield to figure out a way to fix it."

"Truly?" she asks. "You must be quick, then. The town may not last that long if the fiends of the Bramble come for us."

"Well, we can't leave you undefended..." the mage replies.”Plus we have this big fight coming up, our friend needs to battle this Marblearm guy. And I need to doctor some people. We killed a lot of cops, I want to atone a little before we go. Which is surprisingly hard, nobody in this town wants help and they keep trying to kill me when I offer."

"Oren," Minerva sighs. "Oren, hush now. The grown-ups are speaking." She smiles a little at him. "So basically we need to beat this dwarf before we can leave to save the rest of the town."

Oren looks at her annoyed. He crosses his arms and looks away from her.

"Okay," the barmaid says. "What can we do to help?"

"Bring me injured people,” Oren answers. “Sick is fine too."

The chef looks grim. "Wait until nightfall."

"Really?” Oren says, grinning. “Awesome."

Minerva looks appalled. "That... This is not a good thing, Oren."

"It will be after I heal them. I have saved almost all the people I've treated, don't worry."

The barmaid looks very concerned by his use of the word "almost." She shakes it off and says to the chef, "The Rorgh won't be enough if the monsters of the Bramble come to the town. We'll need to gather some townsfolk to protect us."

The chef nods. "I agree. I'll reach out to some trustworthy people. You two," he says, looking at Oren and Minerva, "and your allies. We'll need you tonight as well."

"Get some rest," the barmaid says. "We begin at sundown."

As they leave, Oren stops Minerva. "Hey wait,” he says, annoyed. “I am a grown up. I am... twenty something?"

Minerva looks a little surprised. "Oh! I didn't realize you were in your twenties. I'm sorry." And she continues to walk.

He looks embarrassed "What? Isn't it obvious? I'm... clearly... um... well how old are you? You look like you're young, probably younger than all of us."

She blushes. "Oh! That's very sweet of you. Thank you, Oren."

"What," he says, confused and annoyed. They continue to walk back to the inn in awkward silence.

The Group Prepares to Defend Saloria
Evening falls, and as the sun sets, the party finds the chef on the streets with four other citizens, armed to various degrees.

"They're not hurt at all," Oren whispers to the group.

A dwarf appears up the road, walking from the healer's house. The mage points at the approaching figure. “Monster?”

"Aye. A beast from the bramble if I ever seen it,” Votig confirms.

Marblearm approaches, sees Votig and makes a beeline for him. "So ya finally managed to get up, ya little shit. Managed ta find the stones ta come out, eh? I wonder," Marblearm continues with a scowl, "how many o'the fiends from the Bramble yer gonna try ta pay off. Ya know you'll actually have to fight these ones, right?"

Oren, seeing the dwarf that tried to kill him, quickly tries to hide behind Minerva. She steps away, exposing him. "I thought you were in your twenties!" she whispers.

"He tried to kill me!" Oren whispers back.

"I coulda beat ya then, and I can still beat ya now,” Votig says, spitting on the ground near Marblearm's feet. "And if ya say anythin' else, ya won't even be conscious to see these beasts.”

"Pah," Marblearm says, spitting back. "Ya think yer so bloody tough? Then prove it tonight. I'm not gonna kill ya here an' now 'cause the town needs us and as pathetic as ya are, ya know how ta throw a punch. So ah challenge ya, Votig. I'll do a better job of savin' the town than ya'd ever do," he taunts, "'cause me fists're stronger. So let's prove it on the fiends. I'll kill more of the monsters that show tonight than ya could ever hope to match."

"What kinda nancy challenge be that?" Votig laughs "I reckon there be plenty of time before these beasts come, if they even be real at all. Ya want ta settle this, then let’s go right now. Not like the town needs the help of some prissy dwarf anyhow."

Marblearm shakes his head. "Yer daft. Daft and old and foolish. I thought age brought wisdom but it's failed to touch ya. What point is there in fightin' right before we're supposed ta protect the innocent?"

Minerva looks at Marblearm curiously and says, "Votig, I... I think he's actually got a point."

"Eventually,” Oren whispers quietly to Eliam and Minerva, “the monsters will show up and it won't be up to them anymore."

"I just hope you're ready for all the healing,” Eliam whispers back. “If these guys have no more magic you're going to get popular really fast."

"That'll be great. Maybe I should set up the room in the inn now so it's ready for patients, and we can bring them there?"

"You could probably even charge a fee for your services. As the only healer they're bound to pay."

Minerva seems pensive. "Maybe. There are so few of us, though, that we might need you here, healing on the fly. If someone is badly hurt and we need one or two people to get them to you, that's three fighters down. Out of, like... Ten of us."

Votig looks to Minerva "Eh? There's not even any proof that these monsters be comin'. I think Oren woulda noticed any strange magic in the forest on the way back; everythin' seemed fine."

"I never charged before,” Oren continues whispering to Eliam, “but people paid anyway. Everyone wants to keep a healer happy."

"If you want to start, now's your chance,” Eliam replies. “Pick a reasonable number and multiply it by ten; they can't say no."

Oren shrugs. "That's sort of how it worked before. They would ask and insist, and I would make up random numbers."

As they speak, Votig notices the air gain a mossy scent. Eliam looks out and sees a pile of moss moving like sludge, rolling toward the party.

The bard points at it. "I think our first monster is here."

Minerva looks at where he's pointing and says, "If we get more like that, the others might not stand a chance. I'm going to break off and join that chef's group for a short time. With any luck, we'll keep everyone safe and prevent any citizen blood from being spilled."

Marblearm turns to fight elsewhere as well, saying, "Don't die, Votig. You owe me a fight."

The Group Fights at Saloria
"Me? Die? Hah!" Votig shouts back at the other dwarf as he attacks. Votig punches the moss sludge, but his fists sink easily into the greenish mass.

Votig notices the punch felt odd. It was as though the majority of the blow was absorbed. As Votig goes to step back, he cannot pull away for the sludge is holding his hand and wrist within itself.

Eliam fires a flame blast at the sludge monster. The moss sludge rolls along the ground behind Votig as the flame blast approaches. The flame blast strikes Votig in the back. "Oh god,” Eliam stammers, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Oren pauses to study the sludge monsters, to see what he can find. He tells the party it's an ooze, and it will absorb physical blows but is particularly weak to fire.

Votig attempts to throw the ooze at Eliam. The ooze suddenly propels a massive arm from its core and swings out at Votig. The movement causes it to lose its grip on Votig's wrist and he deftly bounces away from the ooze and from the attack. He winds up another punch, which connects; the damage feels lessened, but he is also able to immediately pull himself free of the Ooze.

Eliam attempts a fire spell yet again. The ooze turns into a ring to allow the flame blast to pass harmlessly through it, but is just barely caught by the conflagration. The moss begins to smoulder. The ooze seems to shudder from the fire as it takes damage from the flame blast.

As the fight continues, there is a cracking sound in the distance, as if something has just leveled a tree.

Something races towards the party. It charges on four legs, head lowered, with a massive horn on its snout. It's huge, and its grey hide seems scaly and glassy, mutated with the magics of the Bramble.

The chef, from a distance away, has turned to look at what has emerged as the crack resonated through the street. "Is that... No, was that a rhino?"

"If it was," Minerva says, "it isn't anymore."

The group turns its attention towards the rhino as it approaches them. Votig unleashes a flurry of devastating blows to the side of the rhino as it charges in, shattering the glassy scales that coated its body. The rhino staggers sideways from the blow, and is angered. The force of the attack has not stopped its momentum but rather turned it so it is now facing Eliam.

Startled by the sudden turn toward him, Eliam's arcane blast goes off target. He quickly jumps out of the rhino's path.

Oren, still concerned about the ooze, takes out a pint of oil. He unscrews the top and moves toward the ooze, tossing the bottle at it to cover it in oil. The oil soaks into the moss, and the fire rages with increased fervor. The ooze, near death, bursts upwards in a massive wave and attempts to smother Oren.

The ooze tackles the mage to the ground, covering his legs. Unable to move, Oren pats down his chest and arms to douse the embers before they alight upon his body.

The rhino, noting no targets before him, furiously turns in circles until it catches sight of Votig beside him. It swings its massive head and attempts to impale Votig on its horn, but the dwarf deftly sidesteps the horn.

A small wooden buiding stands between where the party fights the ooze and the rhino and the Bramble. Around the back of the wooden building appears a human skeleton. It is somehow standing upright, carrying a curved sword in one hand. The air resonates with the clicks and clatters of bone as it steps forward.

Oren might be used to dead bodies and the idea of basic necromancy but this is something no one has seen; an undead skeleton sauntering forward in the moonlight, weapon poised and skull clattering. Oren and Votig are startled by the sight, but Eliam manages to take it in stride.

Votig's attention returns to the rhino before him, and he launches his fist with such force that it shatters the glassy scales around the rhino's eye, propelling the punch through the beast's ocular cavity and shattering its skull. The splinters of bone ricochet through the fiend's brain and destroy it.

Eliam takes a breath to steady himself and draws his arcane device. The string pulled taut, magical energy coalesces throughout the weapon. As Eliam releases his grip, the arcane blast bolt flies forth, skipping past Oren's cheek and squarely connecting with the ooze's form. The ooze immediately dissipates into a slimy liquid and moves no more. Embers remain on the ground from the fire.

"Hey Votig,” Oren says, pointing at the skeleton. “Can you kill that guy?" he ducks out of the action and washes his face and hands, anxious to get the flammable oil off of himself.

"Ya, alright,” Votig replies as he turns his attention to the skeleton. “Just guard that horn for me, will ya?"

The skeleton moves forward toward the brawler.

Minerva's party, seventy yards east, is beset by a trio of mutated monsters from the Bramble. One is some sort of cat-like beast with enlarged fangs and claws. Another is a lizard with glossy skin and rows upon rows of gnashing teeth. The third, no one can distinguish a base creature for. It has large, leathery wings, a humanoid torso with arms that end in claws that resemble scythes, and a pair of curved, massive horns atop its head. It has a mouth with teeth but no eyes.

Minerva fights valiantly, as does the chef. One of their allies has fallen limp in a pool of blood and no one attempts to offer aid.

Votig's fists glow golden as he swings at the skeleton, tapping into his powers. The skeleton's bones shudder as the ground cracks from the force of Votig's blow. The skeleton continues to move, but is slowed.

Eliam fires an arcane blast at the skeleton, striking it straight in the chest. It staggers to one knee, then rises again.

Minerva is shouting and signaling to her group. The party is too far to make out what she's saying, but she guides their fight closer to them, attempting to regroup everyone together.

The skeleton swings at Votig with its sword, but it fails to connect. Votig strikes back at the skeleton. His blow strikes true and shatters the skeleton's bones. The monster collapses to the ground, a pile of disconnected pieces that glow with a mystical black aura.

The group slowly kites toward the center of the field as Minerva guides them nearer to the party. All the combatants take minor hits as they approach.

The bones of the skeleton suddenly rise. The black aura lifts it back onto its feet, reassembles it, and returns the sword to its hand. Its movements seem more assured and capable now. It slashes out at Votig. It misses, but more narrowly than before.

Oren has never seen an animate skeleton before, certainly not one that is able to move independently and engage in combat. He vaguely recognizes the black aura that surrounds it as some sort of revitalization magic and suspects that physical assaults are unlikely to disrupt it.

"Eliam, kill it with magic" Oren orders as he walks back to the rhino horn. He takes out his knife and carefully saws at the base of the horn. He manages to create a notch at the base of the horn approximately a quarter of the way through.

Minerva's group continues to kite towards the party's position. The combatants gradually weaken as they take hits.

The skeleton turns its blade once more on Votig. Its recent revival bolsters its strength. The skeleton's sword flashes with a black aura and slashes Votig's arm. Votig clenches his fist and swings out mightily at the skeleton. He uppercuts, hoping to stun the skeleton momentarily, then brings his other fist down on the creature's forearm to weaken the skeleton's grip. He follows up with a final shot at the flat of the fiend's blade, aiming to knock the weapon away. The skeleton staggers from the damage but its grip on its weapon remains secure.

Forgetting Oren's directions, Eliam dashes onward toward Minerva's group, attempting to meet them halfway. As he sprints, he draws his weapon and begins to pick out a target from the crowd.

Oren stands after a moment, and calls to Votig. “This is kind of hard. I'm going to go make sure they don't die. He runs to the injured recruit from before, still lying in his pool of blood. One of the other fighters that the chef has brought begins to stagger as they make their way onward through the field.

The skeleton's jaw chatters and clacks following Votig's uppercut. It cuts out at him, aiming again at his arm, and deepens the wound already present. He punches back. As the blow connects, the skeleton's unequipped arm falls to the ground, and its head lolls awkwardly on its neck.

Eliam unleashes an attack at the beast following the chef. The beast feels the arcane blast impact its wing and disperse across the leathery texture of its skin. It turns slowly to look at the bard as a smouldering mark appears where the blast connected.

Marblearm engages with the lizard. He chooses to be wary with his punches as the fiend snaps with rows of teeth any time he gets close. He manages to connect a punch to the side of the lizard's head for appreciable damage.

The chef tries to land damage on the winged beast, but has no success. He swings a cleaver in the air but is unable to hit the flying creature. One of the recruits that the chef has brought, bleeding heavily, runs away from the battle, trying to recover.

The cat focuses on Minerva. It is lightning quick and seems to be sneaking in through her defenses effortlessly. The cat begins springing around Minerva in circles until she is unable to protect herself on all sides. It pounces at her neck when she is unprepared and unleashes a lethal blow with its fangs. After a brief struggle, she throws off the cat, but there is a deep wound leaking blood from her neck. She immediately sprints out of the battle. Her eyes are unfocused and she stumbles in the last few steps.

The winged beast has determined the mage who hit him with an arcane blast is a threat and flaps over. The beast lashes out with giant claws and scores a slash across Eliam's chest.

The second of the chef's recruits is enraged at seeing Minerva take such heavy damage. He immediately turns on the cat with his pitchfork and the cat, complacent from its last attack, fails to react in time. The pitchfork impales the cat's hindquarters. It hisses and bounces away.

Votig attempts to punch the skeleton once more. The skeleton is felled by the punch and collapses to the ground with a rattling sound, a pile of disjointed bones.

Eliam's arcane blast scores a direct hit on the beast's chest, blasting it backwards. It flips over in the air and comes to rest a few yards away, touching down on the ground.

Oren moves towards the injured Minerva, preparing to heal her grievous wounds.

The lizard lashes out at Marblearm, and the dwarf follows up his dodge of the lizard's bite by leaping over it, twisting in mid-air and punching down on top of its head, slamming it into the ground. Marblearm lands on the far side of the lizard.

The chef has followed the winged beast, and now that it has landed he manages to catch it with his cleaver. The cleaver leaves a long red mark along the back of one of its wings.

The pitchfork wielding recruit strikes to draw the cat's attention away from Minerva. The cat turns furiously on the pitchfork-wielding recruit who has just stabbed him. The recruit thrusts with his weapon again, but the beast deftly lands atop the pitchfork, causing the ends of it to sink into the ground. The feline springs off the weapon and sinks teeth and fangs into the recruit's neck. He collapses immediately, blood gushing into the dirt, leg twitching.

Minerva tries to gasp out some thanks to Oren for his attempt to aid her but the sound will not come. She instead concentrates all her effort on getting her eyes to focus on him.

The lizard springs up off the ground and snaps at Marblearm's ankles. He grunts as its fangs sink home and leave bloody gashes along his lower leg.

The black aura that surrounds the skeleton bones somehow deepens. Again, the bones reassemble into a warrior. The skeleton seems to be moving more quickly. It moves closer to the battle, prepared to fight yet again.

The winged beast turns on the chef, but fails to land a blow. The bard takes the opportunity to switch targets and draw the cat's attention away from the injured. His arcane blast smacks the cat in the side of the head. It hisses and turns its eyes on him, its fangs bared.

Votig abandons his duel with the skeleton, realizing it has only grown stronger. He runs into the melee. "One of ya wanna take care o' that thing?" he says to Eliam and Oren as he passes them.

Oren continues to heal Minerva, focusing on stopping the bleeding from her neck.

Marblearm sees Votig approaching and shouts, "Ah, ye finally gonna come an' do somethin', little one?!” He shoots a cocky grin at Votig as he double punches the lizard's side, attempting to hit it where the scales are not as tough. The lizard hisses out as the blows connect.

The chef attacks the winged beast with his cleaver again, a long red line appearing along its back as the weapon lands true. The recruit that had retreated to perform first aid on himself feels stronger and moves back into the fray to aid the chef. The winged beast is angered by the chef and brings his claws to bear, but fails to hit him.

The cat's closest target is now Eliam, and, having just taken at attack from the bard, the beast feels it is time to exact some measure of revenge. The cat lunges forward and slashes out with sharp claws. The assault connects.

Minerva is breathing heavily but she removes her hands from her neck. The bandages have helped her for the time being. "Thank you, Oren. You may have saved my life." She looks at the skeleton that Votig has asked her and Oren to defeat. "He likes to leave us fun jobs, doesn't he?"

The recruit that had wielded the pitchfork breathes no more, as his wounds overtake him.

The lizard turns to snap at Marblearm and fails to connect as the dwarf deftly spins around its body.

"Mind yer tongue lad, les' you end up like that rhino." Votig charges into the battle, launching himself at the lizard and Marblearm both. Upon entering melee range, he feints, slips behind Marblearm, and swings at his rival. Marblearm is unprepared for the attack and flies into the lizard. He lands atop the beast, massaging his jaw.

Eliam aims an arcane blast at the cat. The arcane blast ruffles the cat's fur. It shudders and continues prowling toward Eliam.

Marblearm glares at Votig, and his eyes are full of unstable rage. "Is our battle worth this town, ya daft bastard?!" He pushes himself up off of the lizard, grabs the beast's tail, and with a mighty effort, he swings the creature so that its razor-sharp teeth cut across Votig's body.

The last remaining recruit turns away from the chef and moves to assist Eliam with the cat. He swings out with a spear at it and scrapes the cat's side with the edge of the weapon.

Oren steps backwards, preparing to defend himself from the quickly advancing skeleton. Minerva notes Oren's intention and draws back to a safer distance from the skeleton with him.

The lizard is enraged and bites out at the first target it can find, which happens to be Votig. Saliva drips from its maw as it unleashes a mighty blow with such ferocity and speed that it is capable of dual striking on both dwarves.

The winged beast flashes its claws across the chef's body in a flurry of slices. The chef steps back slightly as he soaks the hits.

"Talk shit get hit, lad!” Votig shouts as he punches Marblearm once more. The punch connects with Marblearm's face. He staggers back a foot with the force of the punch, but then turns, spits out a tooth and blood, and grins. "Now this... this is what I wanted!"

Eliam leaves the cat to the recruit, and sends a spell towards the skeleton. The flame blast sweeps over the skeleton and darkens its bones.

Marblearm is astonished. He thinks Votig is being stupider than he has ever remembered him being, but his blood is boiling to fight and he finds himself enjoying it. He steps into a punch and delivers a gut shot to Votig, driving his fist into the dwarf's stomach.

The chef notice this and, distracted, misses his attack on the winged beast. "HEY!” He shouts. “Is this really the time?!"

The recruit fails his attack against the cat, which pounces at Eliam. With blinding speed, it lands on his back and knocks him prone, then presses its advantage with a lightning attack. Minerva notes Eliam faltering and turns around to attack the cat. Her attack fails to land, but it does force the cat to back off of the bard a little so he can stand up.

The lizard chooses to take a bite out of Marblearm and sinks its fangs into his leg.

The skeleton advances to attack Oren. Its sword flashes in quick succession, landing a mighty blow that knocks the mage prone. The skeleton quickly adopts a defensive stance.

The winged beast howls, unfurls its massive wings, and dives at the chef, who was distracted shouting at Votig and Marblearm to get on the same side. It unleashes a pair of attacks at lightning speed on the chef, who staggers backwards.

Votig decks Marblearm in the shoulder as the latter shuffles to avoid the brunt of the blow. Marblearm's eyes study the battlefield, lingering overlong on the skeleton approaching Minerva and Oren. He quickly runs his hand over his chin and face, then turns back to Votig, thinking hard.

Oren stands up, smacking the skeleton with his mace. The skeleton catches the weapon with his own sword and deflects it, leering.

Marblearm considers the battlefield one last time, examining the monsters still surrounding the party and Votig's relentless battle rage. He scowls one last time at the other dwarf, then turns and sprints away past the chef's party.

The chef's eyes widen as he notices the dwarf fleeing, and he is so distracted by the exit that he fails to hurt the winged beast.

The last fighting recruit swings out at the cat, and lands an impressive blow, knocking the beast to the ground. The fiend struggles to stand.

Minerva attempts to shatter the skeleton with her daggers, but it is too evasive for her. She staggers back in shock. "How is this thing so bloody fast?!"

The lizard snaps at Votig, leaping at him but the boxer calmly deflects its attack and it lands harmlessly on the ground.

The skeleton turns to Minerva and strikes. She parries the worst of the slash but takes a grazing blow down her left arm.

The winged beast latches onto the chef with its large claws and grabs him, throwing him through the air. The beast lands without grace but manages to regain his feet and prepare for the next assault. The chef stumbles as he stands. His breathing is heavy.

"Ya tha's right, run ya lil shit. RUN!" Votig screams as Marblearm disappears past the horizon. He turns and punches the lizard in the face, careful not to let down his guard fully. The lizard spits at him as his fists fall short of his target.

Eliam shoots an arcane blast at the cat. The cat crouches and the arcane blast rolls along its fur, singing it but leaving no damage to the cat's body.

Oren strikes the skeleton with his mace, but is unable to do any appreciable damage.

Marblearm has fully withdrawn from the battle and disappeared up the road in the direction of the healer's house. The chef cries out, "If I die, I die protecting all of Saloria!" He charges in against the winged beast, his cleaver flashing. The beast takes to the skies and evades it easily.

Minerva steps back and defends, concerned about the skeleton. The skeleton swings at Minerva, but she evades the assault.

The lizard leaps and closes its jaws on Votig's arm. Votig manages to shake it off.

The winged beast divebombs the chef, who barely manages to roll out of the way. The chef struggles significantly to return to his feet.

Votig quicksteps to the side to put both lizard and cat in immediate range, then clenches his fist as his eyes glow golden. He slams his punch into the ground, causing tremors to strike both the cat and lizard. The cat immediately collapses as rock and stone become jarred loose from the earth and tear through its body. The lizard, bleeding profusely, remains standing on shaking legs.

Eliam attempts to kill the skeleton with an arcane blast, but the skeleton uses its sword to cut the arcane blast in half as it sails toward it. As the skeleton's sword is down from slashing at Eliam's attack, Oren has a clear line with which to attack it. Oren's morningstar smashes through the skeleton's head, knocking it clean off its neck. The skeleton picks it up off the ground and replaces it.

The chef, fatigued and shaking, manages another attack on the winged beast. The cleaver lands true but seems to glance off as the chef is too hurt and tired to put real strength into his attack. The recruit moves to help with the winged beast, but fails entirely to land a hit.

Minerva spins her daggers in her hands as her eyes glow red. She stares down the skeleton as flames begin to dance from the edge of her weapons. Dancing in low, she brandishes her daggers with alarming speed, and as she deftly begins to dismantle the foe's bones, the fire of her magic severs the black aura that has been enveloping the skeleton.

The bones collapse to the ground in a heap, blacken, and turn to ash. The breeze scatters the remains.

The lizard, exhausted, can do no more than feebly nip at Votig's heels.

The winged beast unfurls its massive wings and stretches its long claws. The chef looks up and attempts to defend himself but the beast is too quick. It charges at blinding speed, its scythe-like hands sinking through the chef's chest. The chef drops his cleaver and attempts to clutch at the claws in his chest but already he knows it is too late. The winged beast flies into the air with him, and about fifteen feet up, snaps its arms. The chef's body slides off the claws with a sickening scraping sound, and lands with a dull thud on the dirt.

Votig holds his hands out to the lizard in a non-threatening manner. He slowly reaches for some dried meat from his rations, and offers it to the lizard. The lizard snaps at the meat, but also snaps at his hand as the dwarf slowly moves to pet it.

Eliam aims at the flying beast. The arcane blast strikes the beast's hide and dissipates against its body.

"I'll help you in a minute, sorry" Oren says to Minerva, running to aid the fallen chef. Upon arriving at the chef, he detects no pulse. There are two large holes through his chest, through which the mage can see the stained ground beneath him. He is too far gone for healing.

Oren stands up, realizing nothing can be done. He walks to Votig and crosses his arms. "What are you doing?"

The recruit picks up his comrade's fallen pitchfork, spins it, and leaps into the air, bringing it down in a vertical arc. It gashes against one of the beast's wings, tearing away some of the leathery exterior. Minerva sees Votig low to the ground with the lizard. She can't see what he's doing, but she immediately panics, having already seen enough people she cares for die in combat.

Her face flushes, and she comes sprinting to Votig. "Votig, don't worry! I'm coming!" Her daggers spin in her hand as she approaches.

Votig jumps in front of her, preparing to take the blow she meant for the lizard. “Calm yerself, lass! He's just scared, y'see? And hungry,” he adds, tossing another piece of meat near him. “We got a lot in common, me and him. We both hate tha' Marblearm fellah, and we both been messed up by the magic puddle. He just needs a new home, is all. The forest be no place for him anymore.”

Minerva holds her attack at Votig's words. "The... The magically-mutated lizard monster...needs a home. Right. Yes. Okay."

The lizard sniffs curiously at the new meat, then looks up at Votig. It hisses, but eats.

The winged beast is enraged by the recruit. It charges with its horns, but the recruit parries most of the attack with his pitchfork.

While the lizard eats, Votig reaches out to pet it again. The moment he touches the lizard, his eyes flash golden. The flow extends to his fingertips as a rush of magic enters the beast. A light shines briefly from the lizard's eyes, then recedes, leaving them clear. The lizard looks up at Votig, blinks, and then nuzzles his foot.

As the lizard is tamed, Eliam shoots at the winged beast one last time. The winged beast shudders in mid-air as the blast explodes on it. It lands on the ground, but is not quite felled. The recruit continues his engagement with the winged beast but is beginning to look around for more assistance. He fails to land a blow.

Minerva shrugs and said, "Well, I guess there's just one more to go..." She dashes off to attack the winged beast, but misses with her daggers.

The lizard, wounded, cranes its head up to look at Votig. It shifts its gaze to the winged beast, then back at Votig as if to ask, 'Can I?'"

"Nay, ye done enough for right now. That lass can handle it, I assume." The lizard nibbles on the last of the meat given to it. It looks somehow disappointed.

The winged beast roars, an echoing bellow that splits the night. It glides forward and snaps the recruit's pitchfork with a mighty slashing of its claws. The recruit turns to gain distance but the beast is upon him too quickly. The fiend lifts him into the air, slashes at him with its horns, and throws him through the air about ten yards. The recruit stirs feebly, attempting to rise but struggling.

Oren manages to wrap up many of the lizard's worst injuries. It warily sniffs at Oren's foot, then rests it’s head on Votig's feet. The recruit quickly tries and fails to wrap up his own wounds.

The lizard looks up at Votig curiously. It looks at the winged beast, then back at Votig. It stands.

"A'right, go on then. Just be safe, ya hear? If ya get hit, come on back."

The lizard trots off excitedly, snapping at the air. When in range, it leaps at the winged beast and chomps on its leg.

The winged beast retaliates by kicking out and sending the lizard flying off of its ankle. The lizard crashes into the ground and stands slowly.

"Chompy, no!” Votig cries. “Get ta Oren, he'll patch ya up!" Votig charges in and lands a solid punch on the beast's face. Staggered, it lands on the earth and roars.

The winged beast screeches, howls, and falls to its knees. Its wings catch flame and flake off its body in chunks as Eliam's flame blast hits it.

Oren walks over and patches up the recruit. The recruit stumbles over to his discarded spear and collects it.

Minerva, still somewhat perplexed, moves to support her new lizard ally. Her daggers flash in the night as she gracefully leaps atop the beast's back and drives the point of her weapons in a lethal blow into the fiend's neck and spine. The beast gurgles, unable to scream, and crashes to the ground, a cloud of dust rising around it, Minerva still astride its newly-defeated corpse. The rogue steps off delicately, looks at the lizard, and makes an obvious show of slowly sheathing her daggers as she makes eye contact with it. The lizard seems less tense, and it trots off to sit at Votig's heels.

Chapter 4