Continue North

cy 4862 20th Arrogan - 21st Sepos

Taryn leads the party safely out of the valley of Endegar and heads north. Still bleeding viscount Taymar is tended to by Illyth. Mevik Z'mmm decides to act with his unique skill Time Portal learnt from the Timemaster, and although the spell is difficult and frought with danger he manages to arrive a few seconds before the near fatal blow is struck. He launches an arrow at the Malakarian paladin but compounds the problem by hitting Taymar in the left knee. Nature reacts to the time anomaly and snaps Mevik back to the present - unfortunately the warrior now bears the scars of the knee wound which makes him unable to walk.

The Universe fights against such magic and a storm - an unearthly and violent one - rises in the north and heads directly for them. The party scatter as bolts of lightning erupt from the sky and strike the rocks around them. When the lightning subsides hailstones the size of large pebbles fall upon them. Damula finds shelter and prays to Elena. The others find similar cover until the rain passes from the valley. Each and every horse is dead, pummelled to death by the frightening precipitation.

A wolf visits the party who are not moving far due to Taymar's bad leg. Taryn strides out to meet it, aware that this is no ordinary wolf. His suspicions are confirmed when the wolf introduces himself as Galvas. Mevik Time Scopes the wolf and sees several white robed men round a table - one of whom alters his form and strides out to greet the party.

Galvas tentatively enters the encampment and immediately bows to the Elenian Damula. "My lady," Galvas says with much respect. He offers them sanctuary and healing within his underground dwelling - the Monastery of the Dark Harvest. They enter a hidden construction under the mountains and Galvas resumes his human form. The monks are pleasant and welcoming and there is a shrine to Elena which Damula prays at almost immediately.

The party are fed and find comfort amongst the monks, who are trained to fight against the dangers of Malakar and his dark brethren. Each monk is an incredible combatant and although the party are skilled nothing they possess can match the prowess of the monks of the Dark Harvest.

It takes almost four weeks for Taymar to fully recover from his wounds. An ugly and painful black scar is all that remains from the Malakarian blade and the viscount realises that he will never be free of the pain of the wound. They thank the monks and head off refreshed and nourished by the monk's kindness.

In less than a day the party find themselves under fire as explosive cannonballs rain down on them from the next valley. Taryn spots a black orc scout on the nearest ridge and they rush immediately up the hill. At the crest they spot a huge Bretonian cannon, manned by ten black orcs who abandon the artillery piece and charge up the steep hill wailing and screaming a battle song. Damula, Taymar, Taryn and Mevik launch arrows down at the advancing orcs and only five make it to the ridge to engage them, one of those has a severed arm and is useless in a fight.

Taymar lashes out viciously and disembowels the first black orc, pleased to get involved in combat once more. The rest of the black orcs are put down with little difficulty; Mevik knocks one out with a swift kick and ties him up for later interrogation. From this black orc he discovers - with the use of the Time Scope - that hundreds more black orcs, and many more siege weapons exist. As Taymar torches the cannon Taryn wastes no time and leads them out and away from the danger.

The ranger soon comes across a vast valley with thousands of black orcs, huge beasts to pull the many siege devices. He calculates more than ten thousand.

Soon they discover an old man secreted perfectly in an outcropping of rock. He is Mazran and tells them of a nearby fort that the black orc army trying to capture. "Why?" Taryn asks, "what do you defend?"

"Nothing," Mazlan says but Taryn's instinct tells him it was a lie. The old man is scoped by Mevik and sees battle upon battle with Bretonians, Rosens and now orcs. Intrigued he follows Mazlan to the walls of the small stone fortress and notices the two guards on the barbican are both octogenarians.

"Why don't you join us?" Mazlan says. "We could do with help - we are several hundred against several thousand - good odds don't you think?"