Myrage, upon the instant of the dropping of Jornath, rushes to the holy mans side. The wizened words of the sage of Shadowdale floated across the room, and Myrage took barely a second from the rummaging of his herb pouch, to look up and register the comfortably perched wizard, before returning once again to the aid of Jornath. Finally the ranger found whatever he had been looking for pulled what looked to be like herbs of some sort, out of his pouch. The green leaves were soon placed on the open chest wounds, and Jornath relaxed slightly, as the leaves started numbing the midsection wound. Myrage, looking for assistance from his companions, decided he had done all he could for the fallen fighter, and turned to look upon the mighty wizard.

"Nay, I'll be alright kindly Sage. The Might of Tyr flows deep within my bones." Jornath (if possible, I guess) bends over in prayer (albeit very painfully) and offers supplication to Tyr for benificence. Although all have seen this time and time again, one is never fully acclimatized to seeing bleeding, open wounds heal over and vanish without a trace. Jornath, looking quite exhausted from both his temporal and spiritual travails, looks dazedly around the room at the carnage, his eyes alighting on his torn breastplate. "When His Might is not enough, His Mercy comes to bear. Praise be to Tyr! Now, if only I can get my armor repaired....."

Jacosa sheaths her sword quickly and deftly bows to the newcomer. Her face is radiant with excitement and she struggles to maintain and modulated voice as she says, "M'lord Elminister! It is an honour and a priveledge to meet you sir!"

Elminster deftly hops down from the window sill, picking Dyerwaen up in his hands and tossing it to Blake. His pipe follows in the air behind him as he strides over to Jacosa, bending deeply at the waist ans kissing her hand. " The privledge is all mine, fair lady."

the Old Sage looks to Jornath "And ye should be glad the Blind One was with thee. Have ye not learned how to duck?" then you over hear him mumble " These youngsters. Alwasys trying to cut corners and learn things fast that should not be."

Jornath pauses in his attempts to replace his armor on his now healed form at Elminster's reference to Tyr. For the briefest moment, a look of arrogance touches his countenance, only to be wiped off and replaced by a sullen respect as Jornath scans the room and again notices the carnage within it. "We had thought to venture to meet thee, _Great_ Sage, but it seems you have come to us. Mayhaps you will be of some help for our group as we try to prevail against the creatures of The Red Tower. Was this one of them? If so, it seems we have deduced that only enchanted items and spells do damage to it. Even this small piece of information is useful."

Jornath eventually gives up trying to wrest his defunct and pierced breastplate back into position. Letting it fall to the floor in disgust, he sits back down on the bed (forgetting that one of its legs is missing), only to have the bed capsize, placing him on the floor. "I see that I may need to find other accommodations for the evening, as well as new armor. Does anyone know of a decent blacksmith in these parts?"

After putting the makeshift torch out, Clayton walks over to The Sage and asks, "What in the name of the Abyss was that thing?" "I defintitly think that we need to scout this force we are up against. We would be asking for death if we just walk up to the tower and knock. I assume that there are more of those things in or around the tower. I vote that we break into two teams, I will go with whoever else wants to go scout out the tower and the area around it. What does everyone want to do?" Clayton looks at the remains of the foul creature and shudders, "May Tymora shine upon us all."

"Humph. young one, ye would do well to learn the lessons brought before you today." Elminster says. "As for the creature ye just fought, and ye did fair, mind ye, there are none of those in yon tower. Ye brought about the ire of this thing by throwing around me name. This race is every trying to make yours truly an endangered species. They are called Malaugrym, a race of evil, shapeshifting mages. this one was probably a youngster. Barely over a century old. The older ones can be quite powerful." El moves to the center of the room, and takes a seat in thin air. He looks to Jornath "Pull yer seat from the splinters, son. Ye look undignified." He turns back to the party and scans the room, catching the eye of each and every one of you. "They live in the plane of shadows, and ye are damn lucky he was a young one. But enough, ye wanted to ask me something?" He looks around expectantly.

Jacosa blushes scarlet and turns to look at the corpse briefly before looking back to the Mage, "I am sorry, sir! I thought those tales were...just tales! I have so much to learn." she shakes her head in self-reproach then smiles a little more self-confidently and adds, "But then again, anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger!" She looks at her companions and clears her throat before turning her eyes full into the Sage's to ask respectfully and in a semi-hushed voice, "We have seen the smoke and heard of the evil that prevades Mistledale and are on our way to do our part to undo the evils done. We had hoped that mayhaps you would have knowledge that would save our mission from being pure suicide. Do you have knowledge that can aid us against the myriad of orcs and whatever else we will find against us?"

Tallandril finally recovers from the shock of actually being in the presence of the Sage of Shadowdale, then checks himself to make sure he's neither dreaming nor about to be blasted to pieces. Seeing himself whole, Tallandril asks Elminster, "We were thinking of... well, that is... we were wondering if you could, um, maybe, help us out a little? You see, there's this Red Tower, which I'm sure you already know, and we were sort of thrown together to figure out what to do about it, and stop its threat if possible. So, any information, advice, or magical assistance on how to get into and out of the place in one piece would be very much appreciated." Having fumbled over his words more than enough, Tallandril sits down and, almost as an afterthought, extinguishes the flame on his sword, >cleans it, and puts it away.

"Tsk tsk." the Great One scoffs. "Why must ye young ones sell thyselves short? Why I remember once when I was but a young lad meself. Held off a band of brigands on my own, I did, must have benn 10 or so of 'em. And I was but a fledgling... um... mage. at the time. And with no magely spells to speak of! You," he points at Coble. "I wasn't as experienced a mageling as you. And here ye are, a party on the verge of the history books, asking an old man for help. Well, I'll tell ye this: ye had better be more prepared when ye enter that tower than ye were tonight." he points to the gore all over the room. "Or ye'll wish this was ye." He sets back on his airiel chair, and says,"you may ask me questions, but I'll not promise ye I'll answer them straight. If ye are to learn to survive, ye'll have to learn to rely on ye're own strengths and learn to strengthen ye're weaknesses."

Jacosa nods at the Sage and replies, her voice still hushed and awed though her eyes are bright with mischeif as she speaks, " I do hope that I may live to be so learned in my remembrances, good sir. I am now but a young whelp learning to trust those around me <she looks to her companions> and learn my own limitations. A far greater ill would we do if we thought ourselves invulnerable, would we not? But you are correct, we need to be forthright in our abilities and limitations lest we fall prey to something quite simple before we become so much as a line from the quill of the Learned."

Suddenly the dwarf raises his axe and slams it into the wall leaving it hanging there. "Why do things have to be some complicated? Whatever happened to the good ol days of fighting face to face. Between this miserable creature, the sounds in my head telling me "4 more of Clinton" and the cryptic meanings of Elminster.....I could use a single orc to take some anger out on. Sorry Elminster, didn't mean any disrespect. I'm going to be blunt...would it be feasible to use some of our magical items to get to the tower or not?"

"Ye have them don't ye? What good is that pretty sphere of yer's if it sits in yer pocket? What good is a sword if it never leaves it's sheath?" He looks directly at the dwarf. " You have to mine the ore before you can make a sword. Otherwise, what good is it? Magic makes all men equal. Anyone with discipline of mind can wield it. It doesn't require stength of arm. It can make kings from paupers, and it can unseat a tyrant." He then looks around the room. " And it makes heroes from anyone willing to use it. Within this room is enough power to unseat the owner of that tower. But only if ye'll see it that way. But as I've been trying to get through yer thick head," He leans forward and points at the dwarf, touching his finger to the end of Belak's long nose. " Yer greatest enemy right now is yerselves." he leans back and takes a puff of his pipe, blowing out green smoke, which curls around his head, then dissapears.

Startled by these strange happenings and still somewhat physically battered from this encounter, Coble steps forward and addresses the group and the unexpected but welcome guest. "As the sun rises and sets, we are pleased and honored to have the company of such a splendid guest. Know that we will heed your words and are glad of them." Walking towards Elminster, Coble looks in admiration at the ease and skill he sees before him and continues: "Know that we thank you for your aid in this past encounter, and for your information as to it's kind and whereabouts. We we are as you say, fortunate it was not older. If you will kind sir, we would share with you our purpose in coming here and seek from you any information you might have on the evil we seek to oppose. Our plans are mere beginnings but we have gathered to bring our skills and talents together to find the cause of this evil humanoid army which burns and destroys, and we guess that this strange new tower is the source. Can you say what forces and powers we will find at the root of this foul growth?" Coble waits hopefully for a word or gesture that will help him gather information in this matter.

As Elminster continues talking, Jornath abruptly gets up off the floor, cries out in pain/ecstasy and falls to the floor. As the party exchanges concerned looks, Elminster looks down at the prone cleric, snorts, and says, "Some people get excited over the most minute things." As quickly as Jornath fell, he bounds back up again. If possible, there is even _more_ zeal in his eyes even at this late hour. A feverish chanting seems to escape his lips, and those close enough to hear him speak can make out, "Praise be to Tyr, Praise be to Tyr." After repeating himself several times, Jornath finally shakes off the effects of what has happened to him, and rescans the room with a start. Sheepishly, he hangs his head and moves back to the wall, taking a seat on the floor. "Tyr has made it known that His will still shines on us. Let us go forward in victory. Good Sage, is it possible with the magicks we currently posess for our entire group to enter in and strike at the heart of the Red Tower?"

Elminster shakes his head and hangs his pipe in the air beside him. "Ye ask the same questions over and over." he sighs. "My foolish young friends, the only question ye cannot answer yeselves is what lies in yon tower. So why should I answer a question that ye already know the answer to? Besides, if I tell ye, what will ye learn? To come and ask ole El when ye need to know somethin'? At my age, ye tend to not want to waste much time, ye know. Never know how many days ye have left." He gives a slight chuckle. "And another thing, I know each of ye are destined for great things." An unusualy serious tone comes into his voice. "Even I'll not always be around. Toril will need new protectors someday, and the gods are testing ye now, to see if ye have what it takes." He looks at Jornath. "Ye have no idea how close ol' Grimjaws be watchin' ye right now. None of ye do. " He looks thoughtful for a moment, then bursts back into his usual self. "But that's all I'll say about it. The reat ye must find out on ye're own. And now, if ye;ll excuse me, ye've got some planning to do." He reaches up to grab his pipe, and as soon as his hand touches it, he is gone.

Blake's eyes widen as Elminster throws him Dyerwaen. He catches the sword more out of reflexes than concentration. Blake stands quitely, embarassed and respectful. With a look of concentration on his face, he both listens and hears what the wise sage has to teach. Blake stares at the lingering, green smoke in reflectance after Elminster leaves, unaware of the blood and gore around him.

As Elminster makes his dramatic departure, Jornath quietly clears his throat and says, "Tearulai has the power to allow me to travel amidst the skies. Do any of you have similar magicks/abilities? AHA! (OOC-A light glows somewhat dimly above Drew's little pea-brain) Tal, you say that your sword can lift objects, can it lift most of us? If Trap-Springer is up to the lifting, Tearulai can provide the forward propulsion to allow us to go in above the goblinkind horde. What about any abilities to disguise ourselves, render us all invisible? If we can approach and land on the tower, we might be able to enter on the higher levels and then traverse downwards (or upwards). Even if there is no obvious entrance, Tearulai is able to cut through all but the most tenacious of substrates. What say the rest of you?

"I'm afraid that Trapspringer, while a valuable ally, could never lift our entire group. It has problems with even one of my bulkier brothers. However, if we could somehow get to the walls invisibly, I could easily traverse them and let down some sort of a rope."

After relating the limitations of Trapspringer in a somewhat disappointed voice, Tallandril sits forward in a thoughtful posture and says, "You know... I still think the best plan we have so far is to take a small, discreet group in to scout the surrounding forest. Think... even if we are unable to pull down the Tower at present, any information we glean can be used by ourselves and others." Pulling Trapspringer from its sheath, Tallandril says, "This sword can tell me whenever traps are near, and help me identify what they are. I would imagine that with that knowledge, Clayton and myself could probably disarm an entire pathway through the forest, with perhaps the rangers and other who can blend into the forest as additional protection against material foes. Those remaining can seek help through other channels. Even though no one can lend us any material assistance due to the need for protection at home, information is what we need. Perhaps once we have collected that we can plan an actual approach into the tower. The idea using Sabre could even work, with invisibility and the amulet... providing those of us closer to the tower took out a few archers first for added insurance." Having said his piece, Tallandril sits back again, rubbing Trapspringer thoughtfully. Pulling out his electrum coin, he begins running it along his fingers again.

A lesson learned?