Green Passes the Clearing

                       Fynvola Quain
"Really, m'lord?  Then this place must hold great charms indeed, I 
cannot wait to arrive there!" Fynvola replies teasingly. Then laughs 
and adds, "And if you tell me there might be a hot bath at the end of 
today's journey, I will buy the finest dinner they have for the 
entire caravan!" 

                            Jeremiah
<The rhythym of horses' hooves and the easy rolling of the wagon's 
wheels, mixed with the easy sound of the caravan voices calling to 
each another, brings to mind the peaceful way of life in the Tower of 
the Morn.  Jeremiah muses quietly amongst his memories of friends, 
guardians and teachers in the disciplined life of the order of those 
who serve the Morninglord.>
<Mindful of his responsibilities to his duties as a caravan guard, 
Jeremiah conscientiously works to attend to the surrounding domain, 
the trail ahead and the clearing the group is approaching.>
<Struggling with the change in things which has become his fate since 
leaving the temple which had been his home for all of his life, the 
young cleric struggles with fears, worries and apprehensions which at 
times seem overwhelming.  The world he has known has changed into a 
world he never imagined.  The unique clothing, style and manner of 
his new traveling companions at times, seems so bizarre compared to 
the ordered life he had known, and to be traveling as a guard to a 
small caravan going to WaterDeep seems as strange as the dangers he 
senses ahead.  The order of the march, the caravan noises and the
sights of other beings, keeps his mind focused ahead, and his purpose 
deliberate, despite his fears.  As a man of faith, he has learned to 
trust to his feelings and instincts, and these clearly tell him to 
travel in trust with these wonderous persons, whom fate has brought 
to travel his trail.>
Listening to his thoughts, and watching the interplay of travelers; 
Jeremiah steadfastly continues his post on the left side of the wagon.> 

                              Darrin

Darrin grins, and says laughingly, "I so hate to disappoint you m'lady,
but as surely as Tag is a drow, there is sure to be a feast waiting in
Yronry.  They will know we are coming and they are wonderful folk who
will use any occasion to gather together for a meal.  Bryll," his smile
gets even wider when he says this name, "cooks the best apple pies."
He glances around him at everyone and says, "If you have never known
peace in your life, you will know it here.  My father always spoke of
someday, putting up a house at the far end of the valley and working
a farm here with the rest of these people, but he never found the time."

The Town of Yronry

    Dusk begins to settle in as you begin to climb a small hill.
Even as some of you have grown weary of this long day's haul, Darrin
has somehow beyond reason gained energy.  His already bright features
are now luminescent enough to light your way.  He cheers you on as he
urges his horse into a gallop to hit the crest of the hill before all 
of you.
    A gutteral cry escapes his lips, "No!", disturbing the beginning
slumber of birds and small animals.  You ascend the hill as fast as
you are able and you attain the crest only to catch a glimpse of
Darrin driving his horse at breakneck speed down towards a tiny town 
nestled in this small valley.  A valley he had described as fertile
and lush farmland, but what you see as a wasteland.
    You see before you the road bisecting the valley and near it's
midpoint is a small inn.  Parked in front of this is several wagons,
approximately a dozen, and laid out around the valley are about twenty
houses.  All of the houses and the inn are blackened and smoldering
with signs of recent fire.  Thin wisps of smoke are still swirling
gently into the sky from some of them.
    You watch as Darrin turns down the first pathway he comes to.  He
spurs his horse onto the porch and it seems the horse will do as his
master desires and burst into the house through a door half hanging
from it's hinges, but it rears up suddenly as a figure appears in the
doorway, waving his arms in it's face.
    As the horse falls back forward, The figure is seen grabbing the 
reins near it's mouth, and together Darrin and the stranger regain the 
beast's control.  You can see Darrin trying to yank the horse away from 
him, and the figure puts up a fight to retain his hold, but the horse 
follows Darrin's will and he breaks away and rides towards the wagons 
and inn.  
    You reach the driveway to find the dark elf.  Tag stoicly blocks 
the way to the farmhouse.  "Let him go," he calls out, his voice 
unusually soft.  "He will look under every rock for a survivor, but 
eventually he should return to the wagons.  Come, we are just starting 
to relax and prepare dinner."  He seems cold and callous as he speaks, 
but this is belied when he reaches out a hand to grab Zeptha's horse 
by it's reins.  Gently he says, "Worry not sweet, Zeptha.  The Yrcch 
are far from here now.  I have tracked them to the east and none have 
doubled back.  So your cousin is safe for now, though he wishes he 
faced all the despoilers who have destroyed this place of peace and 
solitude."
    He leads you to the wagons, and as you pass through them, they are
lined up crossing the street, and block the view of the continuing road
extremely well, you see three smokeless campfires going, all with
several men and a few women huddled around them.  They are all armed
and greet you with wordless nods of welcome.  None of them looks like 
a farmer who has somehow survived this brutal desecration.  All are 
human excepting two dwarves, a male and a female.  It is the dwarves
who are standing over a huge pot, adding vegetables to a wholesome
smelling broth.  It is the only thing good in this valley of death.