The small group of adventurers trudged dishearteningly towards the lake. Nothing had gone as planned. They had lost Pavek, Morgan and Danidar, and now Torner. TymeKeeper lead Stormwind by the reins; he couldn't find it in his heart to mount the great horse that had been Torner's best friend. Stormwind was a slightly confused as to where his grumpy friend had gone but seemed to understand the mood of the party and walked with his head down. Gramps and Ophyllia walked arm-in-arm down the rough path that lead to the Lake while the others straggled along behind. The old mage and bard had lived in Bottomburn longer than most and they felt the deaths more keenly. Torner had been a friend to everyone in the area. Danidar had been Ophyllia's childhood friend. And Morgan had been Gramps' only granddaughter.
It was mid-day before the group made the Lake region. They gathered around the base of a hill that sheltered them from view and made their plans.
"If Lytra doesn't show up by late evening, we will have to confront 'M' by ourselves."
Gramps looked sternly at the group. This was no time to be weak. When no one questioned his rationale, he continued.
" Maybe we can set up a diversion. Make it look like an attack is coming from another direction, something spectacular. Rasor, you and Bart are our only fighters. Wait till 'M' and his bad boys have all their attention on that diversion, then hit them from behind. Ophyllia and I will then try to contain 'M' with our spells. Does anyone have any questions?"
Bart and Rasor snarled beast talk back and forth to one another for a moment then nodded their agreement.
"What about me?" TymeKeeper stepped forward.
Gramps patted him affectionately on the back.
"No my friend. You don't need to be getting yourself mixed up in combat. Your purpose here is to record what happens, so the people in Bottomburn will know how 'M' was defeated. And just in case, the Great Elf forbid, the worst happens, they'll need to know how to defend themselves if 'M' escapes and tries to retaliate."
Gramps looked at the others. When there was no more to say, they each went about setting up a camp, while some took shift on keeping an eye on 'M' and his group below at the Lake. When no one was watching, Gramps motioned Ophyllia away from the others.
"There's a problem."
Ophyllia raised an eyebrow and nodded for Gramps to continue. Gramps fingered his medallion and looked back to the mountains wistfully.
"This medallion was to play in the capture of this 'M' person."
"Was? I don't understand."
"This is only a part of a set..."
"Morgan's ring..."
"Yes. You're very observant. The two magic items have the power to freeze time, put everything between them into a stasis of sorts. There are strict limitations of course, but Morgan and I had planned on using them to capture and hold 'M.' Now..."
He paused and his eyes misted over. Ophyllia put a hand on his arm and tried to lead him in another direction.
"How do they work?"
"Hmm? Oh. Well, the items have to be directly across from one another and no more than six feet apart. Everything within that six foot radius becomes frozen in time. The area extends further up than it does across - it reaches up about 10 feet and below the ground by one foot. Nothing in the frozen area can be moved - nothing can enter the area nor leave it. Spells dissipate if cast on the area. Any spells in affect within the area are also canceled. So if 'M' had any items or spells invoked when he became frozen, they would dissipate. The down side of all of this, is that the magic items cannot be moved either. As long as the items are held, relatively still and within the limited area, they will function. If they are taken out of the area..."
Gramps shrugged. "...The time freeze stops and everything, except spells, resumes."
"So in other words, if I bumped you and you fell..."
"If the symbols were no longer facing directly across from one another, or if I moved out of the six foot range, poof. No more time freeze. And another thing..."
Ophyllia tapped her foot impatiently at Gramps.
"...Only Morgan and I can wear the items. They were a gift, you see. A gift from the Great Violet One."
Gramps smiled warmly and fingered the medallion again. Ophyllia's jaw nearly slapped the ground.
"From the Elf?"
"Yup. On a mission from the Elf. Me and my daughter were battling..."
Gramps could tell Ophy's attention was fading again so he shortened his story.
"Anyway, my daughter was killed and Morgan, who was just an infant then, inherited the ring. Seems VE approved of the arrangement and has allowed Morgan to keep it. But if anyone else tries to take the items, they are shocked with a jolt of electricity and knocked unconscious."
"What else do these items do?"
"Nothing you'd be interested in." Gramps glared at the bard.
She'd wheedled out the last shred of information from him if she could. He wasn't going to give her the chance.
"It doesn't really matter anyway. Morgan is not here. We will, between the two of us, have to come up with some spells that will keep 'M' out of the fray. He obviously is a skilled mage and a powerful leader. If we can keep him occupied, maybe it will give Rasor and Bart a chance to finish off his friends."
The two talked quietly for a while longer then rejoined their companions. Everyone took turns catching a nap or getting in some quick grub while they waited for Lytra. Food and sleep had been on the bottom of the list of priorities the last few days and everyone was trying to catch up.
"Oh no!" Ophyllia slapped her hand to her forehead and flopped to the ground.
"What? What? What is it?"
Gramps rushed to her side; the others gathered near.
"I remembered."
"Remembered what?"
"What that bit of lavender fleece and the slipper was..."
Pain shadowed the bard's face as she spoke.
"...It was Flower's."
"What? You forgot a flower?"
"Not a flower. Flower. A priestess of VE and a friend of mine. She and several other priests were kidnapped from Bottomburn when all this started."
Another realization crossed Ophyllia's face.
"And the Old Boyz Council..."
Gramps and TymeKeeper looked at one another.
"Ooops. looks like we got to get onto the story !"
Gramps nodded and patted Ophyllia on the shoulder.
"We'll get them back after 'M' has been dealt with. Let's get over this hurdle first."
A silent gloom settled over the party. Since Morgan was no longer with them, Ophyllia crept down among the rocky hills to spy on 'M' and his cohorts. She came back with alarming news.
"TymeKeeper, those two big black things that you described are with his Badness. And speaking of the devil, 'M' doesn't look too nice either. A ten foot winged, barbed tailed, six inch fanged, red-skinned, demon from hell. I'm sure he's a real pussycat..."
Ophyllia rolled her eyes dramatically.
"...Then there's another ten trolls, a score or so of gnorcs, and some small furry creatures that I've never seen before."
TymeKeeper gasped. "Hairlips!"
Everyone turned to look questioningly at the sage.
"Basically, a mouth with legs. You don't want to run into them. They've got razor sharp teeth and can chew through a polar bear till there's nothing left but bones in about five minutes..."
The sage frowned. "...But they don't come this far south - they can't take the heat. They're strictly a northern creature. Thank the Elf. 'M' must have cast some type of spell on them to keep them from overheating."
Gramps rubbed his temples.
"This will take some extra planning."
The group gathered once again for a plan of attack to account for the newest threat.
Meanwhile, back in Bottomburn, Torner ran down the street, shouting to everyone within hearing range to run and hide in the basements of any stone building. He didn't want the people to get hurt with the acid of the dragon. At first people looked at the fighter with mild curiosity, until they saw the great shadow of the flying dragon. Then without any further encouragement, they fled to the nearest shelter.
Torner strode to the Green in the middle of town. The Green stood next to the Temple of Violet Elf and was a common area for the folks of Bottomburn to gather for celebrations and religious ceremonies. What a fitting place to do a final battle with the black dragon. Part of Torner wished Stormwind could have been here with him to share in the glory of battling such a magnificent and rare beast. The old stallion always liked to strut his stuff. He would have been prancing down the centre of the cobblestone streets right now like he was going to a prize show - not to battle. Stormwind was a very proud horse. Torner sniffed wistfully. However, he was glad his faithful mount was not here. Only one ending could come here. And it would kill him to see Stormwind eaten away by acid or maybe literally eaten by the huge dragon. Torner sighed and shook his head. He was getting too old for this. Much too philosophical these days.
He made his way to the centre of the Green - an easily seen target for the dragon - drew his great sword and saluted the Temple. Then stood proudly, like the paladin he had been, and waited for the coming of the dragon...
"You think they are back at the mountain?"
"What were they doing?"
"All of them or the furry things?"
"The furry things."
"Nothing that I could tell. They aren't very tall, sorta round, no arms - just two legs, and lots and lots of long thick fur. I didn't even see a mouth or ears."