Jarek, Ameiko is Missing!

With the sheriff gone, I can relax a bit.

The town seems much better off without Belor. The noble dragon-born seems to have everything under control. He managed to organize the remaining soldiers to a shifting rotation, and also recruited a dozen young men to help in the watch patrol.

I can't say much for our resident fae folk. They have been busy dealing with an impromptu family reunion. Guy and Gryffin have another relative in town -- the snooty kind of relative that does nothing but watch over you like a pesy big brother.

Arao placed me in charge of the town's defenses, making sure that the walls and buildings are fortified and ready for another attack. Ven and the other locals freaked out when I was given this responsibility. They could not believe that I was "promoted" to town defender.

I was almost finsihed supervising the new fortifications when I got a message from Guy. It seems that one of the locals have gone missing.

Ameiko never did like me. She banned me from her establishment several times, and threatened to have me exiled to the forest. I kept promising her that I'd pay off my tabs but she never believed me. Now she's missing.

"Are you sure she's no where to be found?" I asked Bethana.

The old halfling maid wailed even louder.

"Don't worry," I assured her. "I'll make sure she returns safe and sound."

Bethana sniffed and wiped her tears. "You're still going to pay your debts," she muttered. "With or without Ameiko."

* * *

Jarek goes around town checking out any leads as to where Ameiko - te Market or the docks where she buys fish for the Inn - but no one has seen her since yesterday.

As per Tsuto, Jarek doesn't know where to start looking for him. He remembers the half-elf as one of his buddies when they were still young. A pretty roguish character, he would ask Jarek, Gryffin and Lloyd to go with him on some of his adventures which normally landed the boys into more trouble than what was necessary. They would normally get a scolding from Tsuto's dad, Lonjiku, who doesn't seem to mind hitting his half-elf son in public.

Ameiko is Missing!

The sheriff has asked you to makes yourselves conspicuous, and, well, the best way to do that would appear to be to walk around town, chatting to people and generally being seen. It feels strange, but the town guards who remain (a contingent of 4 left with Sheriff Belor Hemlock a few hours ago) have been told of your temporary 'induction' into their ranks.

It all feels a bit odd, to be honest, and when lunch time approaches, the suggestion of returning to the Rusty Dragon for some leftover boar sandwiches, and perhaps weak ale. Well, that is being 'conspicuous' too, isn't it, and there is no good having the town’s erstwhile defenders falling unconscious from fatigue and hunger.

Things don't quite turn out this way, unfortunately. When you walk into what should be a bustling lunchtime crowd at the Rusty Dragon, you see Bethana (the timid, elderly halfling woman who cooks for Ameiko) standing in the middle of the empty room looking distraught. She starts to speak, as if to inform you that the place is closed, before recognizing you all. You can see the relief wash over her face, albeit temporarily, before being replaced with a mask of worry again.

"Oh, thank Avandra you are here. Thank Avandra! Ameiko is gone!"

She seems panicked, her voice nearly breaking.

"I got up this morning with the fishermen ((a local phrase, meaning a very early start)), as I always do, and went downstairs to start the hearth and heat the ovens. Normally, by the time I am getting things cleaned up from the night before, Ameiko comes downstairs and heads out to get the food for the morning's breakfast. Well not today!"

She pauses for dramatic effect, her little hands twisting against a piece of folded paper she holds.

"I was a bit worried, thought maybe she was feeling ill, so I went and knocked on her door but didn't get a response. Now, normally I ain't no sneak, and Avandra will tell you I don't go putting my nose in other people's business, but I was worried, see, so I took a peek. Her room was empty, and her bed was unslept in. I thought maybe that girl has got herself a nice man, at last, but then I saw this note lying on her floor."

She thrusts forward the note to you. It is a handwritten single sheet, completely indecipherable to all of you. It has clearly been written in some language of sweeping arches and angular shifts.

"That there is the lady's native tongue, you see! Likely to keep prying eyes from seeing it ... but she taught me how to read and write her language over the last few years I have been working for her, well a bit. I mean, I ain't no expert, but I can read enough to know it ain't no good!"

She stretches out her hand to retrieve the letter, and then, laying it flat on a table starts to slowly read out a faltering translation:

"Hello, sis!

I hope this letter finds you well, and with some free time on your hands, because we’ve got something of a problem. It’s to do with father. Seems that he might have had something to do with Sandpoint’s recent troubles with the goblins, and I didn’t want to bring the matter to the authorities because we both know he’d just weasel his way out of it. You’ve got some pull here in town, though.

If you can meet me at the Glassworks at midnight tonight, maybe we can figure out how to make sure he faces the punishment he deserves. Knock twice and then three times more and then once more at the delivery entrance and I’ll let you in.

In any case, I don’t have to impress upon you the delicate nature of this request. If news got out, you know these local rubes would assume that you and I were in on the whole thing too, don’t you?

They’ve got no honor at all around these parts. I still don’t understand how you can stand to stay here. Anyway, don’t tell anyone about this. There are other complications as well, ones I’d rather talk to you in person about tonight.

Don’t be late.

Tsuto"

She lets out a little shriek of despair.

"Tsuto ... he is a bad one! A family scandal. He was born, what, must be 21 years ago ... but he is a half elf!!!! Neither of Ameiko's parents are elves. Do you see what I am saying?"

Scandalous indeed, if you are an old halfling woman. Her eyebrows arch and she nods sagely, as if this revelation itself were enough to prove that the boy was a lost cause.

"His father disowned him ... well fair enough if you ask me, for the boy obviously wasn't his ... and sent him away to the Turandarok Academy to be raised outside the Kaijitsu family. He was cut off completely by his father, and his mother was not allowed to see him, but I know Ameiko used to go see him a lot. Probably once every couple of weeks.

Well, that all changed about six years ago. They must have argued, for Ameiko came back bloodied, and in tears. She left the town for about a year after that, went wandering. That was before she bought this old place and did it up. Went wandering, made a bit of a name for herself, and came back with quite a bit of cash. She only came back for her mother's funeral. The old dear fell off a cliff. She was a lovely old lady, but got a bit mournful near the end, and it appears she killed herself. Tsuto was having none of that though. He made a right scene at the funeral, blamed his father for killing his mother. Said he pushed her off the cliff. Mad, but then that is what being disowned can do to you.

It was a terrible scene, of course, and Lonjiku nearly whacked Tsuto's head off with his cane. In the end some local lads had to come and drag the boy out of town. I know Ameiko tried to reestablish contact with Tsuto after this. She spent a lot of time and energy trying to trace him, but as far as I know she never managed.

And then this letter turns up. I don't know what to do. I heard that Hemlock has left town, so I cannot very well go to him, and ... well ... I am at a loss. Please help!

The little old lady starts sobbing, burying her eyes in her hands.

Arao: The Next Day, downtime

Awaiting the results of the lady ranger Shalelu's expedition was harder on the nerves than any battle encounter would be. I had asked and received permission from the superiors of my Order to stay in Sandpoint and lend assistance to the townsfolk in any manner possible.

Thus I whiled away the time by getting busy during the daytime, flexing my muscles and helping in some construction works of the houses and walls. In the nighttime, I tended to the orphans in the Temple, reading the stories about heroes and valor, and trying to keep their spirits up. I guess it was good there was much menial work to do, because one could sense the tense feelings of the townsfolk, apprehensively waiting and fearing for the next goblin attack.

I myself have in more than a few occasions looked to the gates of Sandpoint, and wondered when Lady Shalelu would return with news and leads about the goblins, so that we may end this threat once and for all.

Shalelu Andosana

The next morning you are all awoken by a town guard. It is very early, probably before 7am, but the guards have been asked by Sheriff Hemlock to request your presence at a meeting as soon as possible. You individually make your way to a comfortable room on the second floor of the Town Hall where you recognize the mayor, Sheriff Hemlock, and, instantly recognizable from the evening before, the elven woman that entered the Rusty Dragon. She still looks tired and slightly harried, but she has cleaned herself up and has at least regained a semblance of calm.

Mayor Deverin smiles warmly at each of you as you enter, and when finally everyone is ready a large kettle of hot coffee (a rare treat in these northern parts) is brought in, and Mayor Deverin makes a point of pouring everyone a cup, despite her elevated station. (Guy introduces Kythan to the Sheriff and the mayor as an ‘acquaintance’)

Sheriff Hemlock starts to address you, the morning chat silencing in his wake. He introduces the elven woman to you as Shalelu Andosana, "an unofficial member of Sandpoint's town guard, and a true friend to the people of these parts, even though nobody in town would realize it!". Shalelu smirks slightly as Hemlock introduces her, looking embarrassed by the description.

"And this group are Sandpoint's newest crop of heroes… and then some (nodding his head towards Jarek for the latter)!" He then introduces you each in turn by first name to Shalelu, and very briefly recounts the goblin raid on Sandpoint and the fact that the entire thing appears to have been a diversion to distract the guards while the body of the late Father Tobyn was stolen from the graveyard. He then explains that Shalelu has been a thorn in the side of the local goblin tribes for years, and that few in the region know more about them that her. He goes on to recap her report that Sandpoint hasn't been the only place in the region that's had goblin troubles. In short, there's been an increase in goblin-related raids along the Lost Coast Road, particularly in the dale between Nettlewood and Mosswood. Only a day ago a far south of Mosswood was burnt to the ground by a group of goblins. Shalelu was nearby and saw the smoke. She couldn't save the farm, but she did fine the family holed up in a barn, under attack, and managed to down a couple of goblins and rescue the family. They are now staying at a nearby farm, but the goblin problem is obviously not going to go away quickly.

Hemlock sits down and holds his mug of coffee in two hands, staring into the black oily liquid as if contemplating the dark times he has found himself in. Shalelu starts to talk, her voice is beautiful, almost musical, and at times you have to strain to pick up her quietly spoken words.

"Belor's told me of your work against the goblins. Well done! (She looks up to Jarek and makes sure the sheriff notices her nod towards the ranger). I've dedicated the last several years of my life to keeping them from causing too much trouble around these parts, but they are tenacious and fecund little runts. Like weeds that bite."

"Anyway, there are five major goblin tribes in the region, and, traditionally, they're pretty good at keeping each other in line with intertribal squabbles and the like. Yet from what I’ve been able to piece together, members of all five tribes were involved in the raid on Sandpoint. A fair amount of the Mosswood tribe goblins I dealt with yesterday were already pretty beat up, and here was a lot of chatter about the 'longshanks' who killed so many of them. Now I've met you, it seems obvious from their descriptions who they were talking about. Seems like you made an impression. Especially the big dragon man." She says this last looking at Arao.

"In any event, the very fact that the five tribes are working together disturbs me. Goblin tribes don't get along unless they've got something big planned, and big plans require big bosses. I'm afraid that someone's moved in on the goblins and organized them. And judging by these recent raids, what they're organizing seems like bad news for all of us."

After her speech, Mayor Deverin speaks up. "I have asked Sheriff Hemlock to head south to Magnimar to relay this information and request additional soldiers to be stationed at Sandpoint. Our last request .... well .... it fell on deaf ears, but perhaps with this additional information ... Anyway, I would like you all to maintain a very obvious public presence in Sandpoint over the next few days. People will get nervous with Hemlock out of town, with Lloyd still under the care of Father Zanthus at the Cathedral, and we need to keep people feeling safe. The people seem to have taken to you all… well most of you… and what I need right now is a quiet, peaceful town. Sheriff Hemlock will be gone for a few days. These things can take time!".

As the meeting finishes, Shalelu asks if you would have time for a short stroll towards the north gate (accompanying her as she immediately heads out of town, restocked, and heading out to check on some of the most exposed farms). As you stroll with her you have time to ask any questions you wish. She seems willing to impart any information she can.

Jarek, The Boar Hunt

Lord Foxglove knew how to throw a party. I never thought I'd enjoy the company of rich people. Despite his foppish and cosmopolitan attitude, Foxglove knows how to mingle with people. His hunting session was enjoyable. I had a blast helping him pin down the boar. Foxglove could use some training in archery, but he did well.

The others seemed to be relaxed around him. Lord Foxglove managed to set everyone at ease. Even that eladrin bounty hunter seemed friendlier when he chatted up with the young nobleman. We finally killed the boar and brought it to a posh inn. It seems that Foxglove knew the people around the province. Everyone recognized him and treated him like he was some kind of royalty.

When dinner finally came, I quickly jumped into my share of the meal (as well as a hefty portion of boar meat). Guy and Gryffin gave me the looks as I enjoyed my meal. The Priest of Corellon seemed scandalized by my appetite and the way I mumbled through the thanksgiving prayer -- slurping down gravy while chanting a hymn of praise.

I quickly finished my share of food and began to enjoy the comforts of the cozy inn. I was about to fall asleep when the main door opened and a familiar figure stepped in.

"Shalelu!" I greeted my teacher as she strode forwards. The elven maiden looked wear. She was fully armed and equipped. I realized that she was supposed to be out with the other border patrol, tracking down the goblins.

"What are you doing here?" Shalelu asked. Her eyebrows rose.

"I'm with Lord Foxglove," I answered. "We just finished hunting."

My teacher shook her head in disapproval. I realized that she was trying to make me feel guilty for having some fun and enjoying myself -- while the rest of the rangers spent the day tracking down goblins.

"You told me to join Lord Foxglove's hunting party," I defended myself.

Shalelu shook her head, ignoring my explanation. I felt my face flush in anger. She always does these sort of things -- telling me to do something and I'd get in trouble for following her orders.

"You can go back to your friends," Shalelu replied with a condescending voice. "I have urgent matters to deal with."

"Wait!" I shouted as she started to leave. "What business? Can I help you teacher?"

"Not now, Jarek." The elven ranger states, shaking her head in exasperation. "I'll talk with you tomorrow."

Guillaume, The Boar Hunt

Guy decides to hang out with Kythan. Get to know him better as a person. Maybe even talk about the church and its deity. About Corellon. He does not participate with the hunt itself but instead appoints himself the cook of the hunt. He occupies himself with the grills. "I do not find boar meat to be very tasteful in particular."
Guy explains. Two days ago Guy was fighting for his life. All of it has been chased away and forgotten now. A side effect of being with faith.

Later at the meal table. Guy made sure that he is sitted beside Kythan. Introduce him to the people of Sandpoint as a friend or a distant brother who has come here to pay him a visit. People are very curious about eladrins. "You know I truly admire what you are doing. You are doing your duty to the crown. As I am doing my duty to
Corellon."

"I have been dreaming about home lately. Do you know my parents? The Dauphins are an interesting lot. They do not go to church much but I am absolute that Corellon watches over them as he does to all of us" Guy talks about his family and why he left in the first place. The people around him listened to him intently.

"What about you? Do you go to church too?" Guy offers a slice of meat to Kythan.

The enforcer waves off Guy's offer of the cooked meat and busies himself with some of the fruits they picked during the hunt.

"Tyr os si aelasol thylyrn si var os Corellon eil Sehanine. Ai vaeraes sai thylyrn tia orn var."*

And the enforcer ends it with no further explanation as he continues to eat the berries.

Guy takes the answer as it is and lets the subject drop. The eladrin cleric, however, seems to notice something different from the enforcer. He seems a little bit distracted but Guy can't seem to identify the reason behind it.

Arao, The Boar Hunt; Downtime

I approached the lady of the inn, Ameiko, after she had moved the visibly exhausted and shaken (?) lady elfin ranger to the inner parts of the inn.

"Milady, I know it is not my space to intrude, but if I may be of assistance to you and your recently-arrived friend, please do not hesitate to ask. The light of Pelor shall not spurn any who request His aid," I said earnestly.

"Everything is ... err ... taken care off good paladin. Thank you." Ameiko replies.

"Do not worry yourself about it. All will be revealed to you shortly. Come, I have prepared some spicy potatoes to go with the roasted boar!" Amekio adds, leading Arao back to the seats where his friends are located.

The Boar Hunt

The boar hunt is a welcome distraction from the frenzied past two days. It is nice to meet up with your new companions again, and Aldern Foxglove (the noble you saved), is very happy to see that you all turned up. He has organized mounts for all of you, and has several retainers to accompany you (as well as about 6 yapping hounds). He was unsure if a horse could handle the dragonborn’s weight but he was willing to give it a try. Arao, however, politely declines the ride and offered to just walk.

The two mile ride to Tickwood Ford is pleasant, taking you all north of Sandpoint, just north of the limestone upthrust known as the Devil's Platter. The Tickwood itself is known as a home to deer, boar, and a few firepelt cougars (or so go the legends of the hunters). There are no known goblin tribes in this area, so hopefully no more freakish pests!

Aldern is a charming conversationalist, who regales you with funny (and slightly risque) stories about Magnimar high-life. He asks tons of questions about you all, where you came from, how long you have been fighting goblins, what harrowing tales you have. It becomes a very pleasant trip, and although he does seem rather over-keen to learn from Arao how to be a proper hero (and yes, he does try to lift your axe, but he has trouble holding it straight, and laughs at himself). He was clearly impressed by your ability to cleave the goblins apart, and you get the impression that he wishes he could have done the same and been a little less cowardly.

You stop for lunch, a fine picnic of rich meats and wine, and finish the day with a very fortunate catch: Aldern finally manages to send an arrow through the eye of a very large wild boar (after you had all failed miserably on the previous three you managed to spot. You have a suspicious feeling that Jarek would have done better and just has allowed the noble to do so). He seems to be cheered by his ability to do something semi-heroic in front of you all.

Aldern invites you all back to the Rusty Dragon (the oldest, finest inn), where he hands over the boar to Ameiko to cook for a big dinner. Ameiko is the owner and operator the Rusty Dragon, a beautiful young oriental lady, heavily tattooed, with snakes circling her pale, perfectly smooth shoulders.

* * *

The feast ... what a feast! The boar was perfect, the crackling crisp and juicy, the flesh deep and dark. Ameiko cooked it with heavy spices that seemed to set the mouth aflame. It went particularly well with the cold beer from the Rusty Dragon. At the end of the evening you noticed a disheveled young elven woman enter the bar. She was wearing traveling gear, and was equipped with bow and longsword. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun, with dark feathers splayed down towards her neck in decoration. She smelled faintly of smoke, and looked exhausted. Ameiko immediately broke off from her work behind the bar, moving to the woman, putting her arm around her, and walking with her off to the private residences of the inn. You catch them deep in whispered conversation as they walk past.

The rest of the evening slowly winds down, with Aldern making his excuses and departing before sun-down (he is travelling back to Magnimar tomorrow morning. He bids you all farewell and leaves the inn. It is not long before the rest of you go down for the night. Soon you will need to decide what to do with yourselves.

Guillaume: The Next Day

What a huge relief that was! Guy told himself over a glass of elven wine. It was only a precaution that he sent word before going to the cemetery. He gently patted the nightingale (a small musical bird native to these parts) in gratitude. It was preoccupied with some rice left overs. And his precaution paid off. Zanthus appeared in the nick of time. I smiled to myself. Thank you Corellon. He whispered. He was convinced that Corellon was testing him. His total devotion to his ministry is rewarded.

Guy looked around and caught Kythan still eyeing him. Suspicion nailed to his eyes. "This guy doesnt let up .. " Guy figures. ".. a real trooper". Guy raised his almost empty glass of wine in acknowledgement. Kythan responded with a dry nod.

Guy, wanting to smooth things between them, got some more wine for himself and another glass for his new friend. He managed to swim across the crowd and found an empty chair beside Kythan. "Cai saesi! Cyrn air air kyl? (Hey there! Hows it going?)"

Guy hands over the other wine glass. Kythan stared. "Eisi o seil sai vyrl ti." (You trying to poison me." It was a statement. A matter of fact.

Guy laughed like a child. "O eisi shael vodolelyr. (You are being ridiculous) Hahaha". He raised the glass to his mouth and took everything in one gulp. "HAaaaaaah! That one was niiiice!" Guy reverted to common speak.

Guy tries to engage Kythan in a friendly conversation. He asked Kythan about how the monarchy is doing? Current politics. About how one ends up being an Enforcer. About life in general back home. It has been a long time since he's been there. That going back is not such a bad idea after all. Guy tells Kythan how much he miss his parents and his cousins. But found that it might be conflict with his ministry.

Kythan in turn answered the questions as briefly as he could (and always in elvish). It seems that Kyonin itself remains a closed realm. The eladrin welcome
few visitors within their borders, instructing strangers to venture first to the small human port community of Greengold, where arrangements can be made for travel into the nation’s interior.

The enforcer continues to relate that the eladrin nobles have grown restless over the years, frustrated with the lack of progress against the evil dwelling so close to their home. Others press Queen Edasseril for greater rights in opening up lost elven kingdoms scattered across Golarion, hoping to restore elven rule and reestablish ancient rites of trade. Worse yet is the threat posed by the drow.

Guy suddenly realized why the monarcy and the council wanted everyone back and any loose ends tied. Would his calling be enough to avoid him to return home and do his duty?

Jarek, The Next Day

I woke up feeling sore all over. Yesterday's fight with the goblins, as well as the late night excursion to the cemetry, got me all brusied in my legs and shoulders. I would have returned home sooner, but then Sheriff demanded that I help out in the repairs. "This is the least you could do," Hemlock grunted with a devilish grin. "After all, you were the one who led the goblins here into town."

Guided by the Sheriff, I helped clean out the dead goblin carasses and fix Ven's store. Hemlock continued to blame me for all the town's misfortunes. The other townsfolk gave me cold, condescending looks, trusting what the sheriff told them as true.

I quickly replaced the bandages on my arms and shoulders. The most of the wounds have closed up, but there were still some cuts that needed to be cleaned and fixed.

A sweet feminine voice caught my attention as I stepped out of the house. "Hi Jarek!"

I turned around and saw a petite, dark skinned girl running towards me. "Good morning Amryl," I greeted. Amryl was one of the few people who treated me well. She just turned eighteen a month ago and invited me over to her birthday party. I wanted to come, but her other guest might be offended if I showed up to ruin their celebration.

"That was some battle," Amryl exclaimed. Her brown eyes beaming under the bright morning sun. "I'm glad you're okay."

I felt a sudden guilt crawling in my stomach. With all the things that happened yesterday, I forgot to check up on Amryl and her dad. "Hows your family?"

"We managed to find a hide under the stable's secret room," Amryl replied. She was, of course, referring to the secret room where we once played hide and seek with Lloyd and Gryffin.

"I would have dropped by earlier," I explained. "But I was caught up with things."

"Don't worry about it," Amryl replied. "You're not the only one who have experience dealing with these sort of emergencies."

Amryl and I both lost our mothers during the werewolf attack. We were only five at that time. I remembered holding on to her as Amryl's father forced us into a closet. Ever since that fateful night, the two of us promised to take extra precautions and make sure to be always ready when the next disaster would strike.

"You're off to the woods again?" Amryl asked, her eyes gazing over my bow and arrows.

"Border patrol," I muttered. "I screwed up bad yesterday."

"Don't worry about what those people say," Amryl muttered. "You did good."

I shook my head and sighed.

Amryl nodded sweetly, as if she was stalling for time. "You take care of yourself," she said. "I also have tons of stuff to do as well. The horses have been on the edge since the goblins attack and dad wants me to clean up the stables."

"Okay," I muttered.

"I almost forgot," Amryl quickly added. She brought out a package from her bag. "Master Hosk wants you to have this."

"What's this?" I asked.

"A token of gratitude," she replied. "For helping save the town."

**********************

As Amryl walked away, I carefully opened the package that Daviren Hosk gave me. Inside the parcel are two leather armbands and a short note.

I opened the letter and saw the stable master's crude handwriting.

"Jarek,

I know things have been rough for you, losing both your parents and growing up in this god-forsaken town. I'm glad that despite all the things they say about you, you still manage to grow up into a fine young man.

This attack of the goblins worries me. I don't want to scare you or Amryl, but I feel that more terrible things are going to happen. This is like something that happened many years ago, like the time you lost your parents.

I am too old to go hunting these bastards like I used to. But these should help. I hope you go after and cut their filthy heads off.

Daviren"

****************************

I carefully examined the stablemaster's gift. Two finely crafted armbands made from exquisite brown leather. The bands looked brand new and easily fit my arms. I wondered how Daviren manage to acquire such a fine piece of equipment. From what Amryl told me, the stablemaster had been a mercenary back in his youth. This piece of equipment must be something he acquired during his warrior days.

The Next Day

The next day or so in Sandpoint is a blur. There is a lot of cleaning up to be done, and, unfortunately, some burials. The goblin captive is sent south to Magnimar under guard, with a request for some additional soldiers to be sent north to protect the town over the coming months.

While the night after the raid is a bit of a blur (alcohol induced for some, a frenzy of healing and caring for others).

For Jarek, the evening started by a return to the White Deer Inn to help clear up the bodies of the goblins and the goblin dog from the last encounter. It turns out that Garridan has a very pretty daughter (Amryl) of about eighteen who you are sure kept giving you eyes. The fiasco at the cemetery took up the rest of his evening and he got back to his house pretty late. The next day, was spent helping the repair of Ven’s store. Most of the other workers were not happy with your presence with most of the snippets of conversation saying you were part of the reason the goblins were able to invade the town. As he returns to your house that night there is a note waiting for you. Daviren Hosk, the stable master from the Goblin Squash Stables has left it. His writing is course, but he thanks you for saving his daughter, who was at the ceremony and was badly injured. Daviren makes it perfectly clear his hatred of the goblins, and his fear that his beautiful girl would die to them. His emotions are all too raw, but you have clearly made an ally in a town which has nothing but antipathy for you. With his letter is a small parcel. "I am too old to go hunting these bastards like I used to" he states in the letter "but these should help. I hope you go after them and cut their filthy heads off!". Inside the parcel are two leather armbands. Other than that, the best part of the next day was when a silent, nervous little girl (Garridan's youngest daughter) brought you a fresh baked pastry from Amryl.

Gryffin had an erratic time. He popped home briefly after the meeting with the Sherriff, just to let his folks know he was safe (and check up on them), and found that everyone was fine. Half expecting a hero's welcome, he instead received a clip round the ear from his father Volioker ("Getting yourself nearly killed, you idiot!" He scolded him. "Trying to impress somebody?" was his follow up), followed by a big hug, then another clip. He could be strange like that sometimes. Your other father seemed detached, withdrawn, a little cold. Perhaps he was upset you weren't going to do a proper job like fishing, or perhaps he was sad that you have grown up, but either way, you got little out of him. By the time you returned from the graveyard task he found that both of your parents were still awake. While you and your dwarven dad were catching up on how he attacked the goblin (for the 7th time today), old Quink knocked on your door. At that, Volioker went out to prepare some tea and to give you two some time alone. He sat in front of you, smiled sadly, and handed a long wrapped parcel across the table for you. "Grandpa, my father, wanted me to have this, but I never had any use for it. I think he would have liked you to have it. I .... I don't know what to say. I think you might be going out to get yourself killed. I know you can't be a sage or a locksmith like the rest of us, but I don't want you to kill yourself. Volioker is a mess, but he doesn’t want to show you that.... well .... I don't want you to kill yourself!" He seems frustrated with his inability to find words. "Don't do anything stupid, we love you." And with that he turns and leaves your room. You are silent for a while, and then set about unwrapping the cloth around the gift. Inside was a long staff, light, well balanced, topped with a red crystal and engraved with ancient runes. You went down to thank them and after a big group hug, everything went back to normal with Volioker once more telling his tale.

Arao: You have what feels like the best time in months. You get a loaf of still warm cinnamon bread stuffed into your hand as you walk past Alma Avertin's bakery. Children seem to follow you around all night (until they get called home for dinner), asking you if you are the most powerful paladin in the north, asking you if you would someday be a true dragon, asking you if you can burn down castles, asking you if goblins eat babies, asking you .... .... eventually you escape into the inn you have been staying it and are greeted with a raucous cheer. It is hard to turn down the free drinks. Very hard. And oh boy did you regret it the next morning. Lets just say that most of the next day was a write-off, and a quiet meal in the inn the following night is only broken by a few people who come over to thank you personally, and tell you their own stories (most involving running away screaming). The people have evidently taken to the paladin in their midst!

Guillaume: You spend most of the first night with Father Zanthus, helping him heal the injured. Other than the encounter with the Kyonin enforcer, the day would have been subdued. You are requested to attend the small private ceremony the next day at the temple, and are greeted to a solemn event that feels like a tremendous injustice. That same day, after a lunch of leftovers from the day before Father Zantus in blessing all of the poor souls who have to be buried. It is a long day of ceremony and funerals, with many weeping relatives. Some of the grieving people seek you out to thank you, others are too lost in their sadness to even notice. One old lady spits at you in anger and the confusion of grief, cursing you for not saving her son. It leaves you drained. As the night draws to a close you decide to take a short stroll around town on your own, pulling in the sea air, feeling the tiny mist of rain on your face. You are looking forward to the hunt, simply to get away from the death that has stunted your mood.

All through all of this, Kythan was never a far from where you are. He always seems to be in the periphery of your vision. Guarding you. Watching your every move.

The Arrest, End round

Kythan takes another look at the battle worn faces of those around him.

These people really mean to protect Dauphin – even at the cost of their own lives. One has to give credit to them even if they are protecting a traitor.

“I shall give you until the goblin troubles of the town are solved, priest.” Kythan decides as he lowers his longsword; the flames quickly extinguished by the gesture.

“On the condition that when all that is over, Dauphin shall surrender and come with me without resisting.”

“In the meantime,” Kythan sheathes his sword and walks out of the cemetery. “I shall stay and make sure he doesn’t try to escape.”

Jarek: The Arrest, Round 02

I watch as the strange fae warrior overpowers my companions. The warrior's blade burned with an eerie light, cutting through the defenses and armor of my companions. I must stop this senseless bloodshed, I thought. Hopefully the warrior would listen to reason.

"Enough of this violence," I shouted in a gruff tone. I stepped out of the tombstone, towards our attacker. I raised my bow and pointed my arrow away from the eladrin warrior, as a sign of parlay.

"The priest of colleron stays with us," I explained. "He made his vows with this community. He swore an oath to protect the church and made a solemn promise to the people who live here."

"I know the fae folk take their promises seriously," I added. "Guy made a promise with the people of Sandpoint."

"That oath outweighs any other promise or criminal offenses he made."

* * *

“What the boy says is true.” Another voice joins in from the darkness, revealing the presence of the old cathedral priest.

“Jarek has been known to cause a bit of trouble in our town but when he speaks sometimes it is best to listen to his honest opinions.” The newcomer chuckled.

“My name is Abstalar Zanthus, called Father Zanthus by most in our small town. I serve as the community’s religious leader and Guy is part of that community.”

The old priest makes his way nearer to where the eladrin cleric, his hands plainly up front and in a non-threatening manner.

“The person you have been chasing has been a part of the town of Sandpoint for a while now and has helped its members more now than before. We are facing a crisis as of now and Guy’s presence with us is needed more than ever.

“He has not only helped the townsfolk in the last goblin attack but has likewise served as a beacon of hope for us. He and his friends are currently looked up by the populace as local heroes. Removing him now would only crush the spirits of everyone in town. Is that what you like that?”

Father Zanthus pauses for a moment as the enforcer seems to be gauging the situation.

“If Guy is guilty of something back home then he would probably freely go with you to face it. Wasn’t that what he was planning to do before?

“Allow him to stay, up to the time wherein we can solve this current dilemma of our town. Perhaps by then you would find out who the true and current Guillaume is.”

* * *

I was relieved that Father Zathanus appeared and praised me for what I said. Part of me was glad that the old priest has brought some sense of order into this battle. But I could not stop wondering if there were any other people hiding around in the cemetry.

"Yes, Guy is our beacon of hope," I added.

Father Zathanus glared at me, as if he was telling me to shut up.

The eladrin warrior listened skeptically, he lowered his eyes and was lost in thought for a moment.

"And we have more important things to worry about," I added, ignoring the old priest's subtle hints.

"Like the trail of goblin tracks I found at the back of the graveyard," I added proudly.

I heard Gryffin coughed out a word that sounded like "idiot". But I continued on. "We must tell the sheriff and Shalelu."

Kythan: The Arrest, Round 02

This is not going according to plan. I should have known the others would help the traitor. I didn’t want to involve them in the fight. Who would have known they would follow Dauphin into the cemetery?

Kythan assessed the situation. It was three against one. It would be easy to assume that the human was likewise nearby. The eladrin has seen them fight against the goblins earlier and the he knew that the group could handle themselves well in a fight.

I need to even the odds out as soon as possible. Prolonging this would mean that the traitor would find the means to once more escape. The dragonborn is making it difficult to get to Dauphin. I would need to take care of him first.

“Dragonborn! Eladrin!” Kythan once more speaking in common. “I have given you the chance to surrender the lawbreaker and yet you still refuse. Forgive me but you have given me no choice in this matter.”

“Thasti ol!” The eladrin’s longsword suddenly burns with a radiant green flame.

Guillaume: The Arrest, Round 01

i am free! my mind raced. kythan's hold broke loose. my arm will bruise for the next few days but i am free .. "thank you brother eladrin and brother dragonborn. i will forever be indebted to you both". i gave a slight bow to both.

i will have courage.

i turned to kythan who looked perplexed that i am no longer his hostage. "you will cease this instant sir." i plainly spoke without resentment nor anger.

"you are outnumbered as you can see. you will cease the violence and leave now before real harm comes to you. the monarchy has no power over the church. i answer only to corellon. blessed be his name. i will stay here in the world of humans and continue my missionary work."

i carefully held the pendant which was tied to my neck. it depicts the star of corellon. i took the pendant off. i wrapped the chains that held it around one hand. i held it close to my chest and i prayed. "grant us divine strength to make the right thing. lord corellon" ::cast bless::

Arao: The Arrest, Round 01

The armored "enforcer" grabbed the cleric and dragged him through the graveyard plots. I felt the blood boil in my head. Coward! Hiding behind another person and using him as a shield! That's the lowest form of fighting ever.

"Coward!" I spat in disgust. "You think you can get away that easily?"

I branded him with the Mark of Pelor, and tensed my leg muscles. I flexed my knees and lowered my center of gravity. The move I wished to make I haven't done since the earliest days my paladin training camp. I smiled at the memory, and promptly launched all my 300 pounds of muscle and sinew into the cleric's assailant.

I had the satisfaction of seeing his wide surprised eyes as I barrelled my way into him. The crash flung him backwards and had the greater benefit of letting the cleric free from the enforcer's treacherous grasp.

Gryffin: The Arrest, Round 01

"Shar? Eilyraes aeladol? Shai air sor? Shar eisi o iar sai Dauphin? Valol ei tyr os mys?"

[more IC post to follow]

Kythan: The Arrest, Round 01

With the sudden appearance of the dragonborn and noticing the other figure in hiding by the tombstones, Kythan makes a sudden grab of one of Guy’s arms and presses it against the other eladrin’s back and with his other hand, presses his longsword against the cleric’s exposed neck – the sharp blade already biting thru skin and drawing a think streak of blood.

“Ai myr cali cyrn shaeraes sal sai ser ei tostolar jhoji o! Oli shae os eilyraes, o’si tystol shor ti. Pyl’r aelael sol os thi maedol. Ai’r moli os syr eir myl eir Ai maeli o seil sai. Shi’si caedol or os si taestaeraesia. Taji mesi os thol pyl’r thylyrn iar.”*

Drawing Guy’s body close to him, Kythan slowly makes his way towards the cemetery gates; making sure to use his hostage as cover from his perceived attackers.

* * *

my head continues to spin. i paused to get my bearing.

"ouch!" i felt a sharp push behind me. it was kythan's sword prodding me to hurry. and then out of nowhere, i hear a friendly voice. it was the dragonborn. kythan instantaneously held me hostage. i was too dizzy to counter react. a part of me was glad to see a friendly face. and the other part wished that arao could have been a little more discreet in his approach.

"wait, you misunderstand" i pleaded. i felt the sword bite against my neck. i spoke in common now so that arao will understand. "these are my friends from the town. we are investigating a grave robbery. this graveyard has been desecrated by goblins in recent past. and the vile creatures stole a friend's corpse. please. you must have seen them (the goblins) there were all over the town"

"ai torelaesal byrol" kythan retorted back as he moved further towards the cemetery gates. his anger has taken hold of him. "o toraji ti thys ei thyr" he dragged me a step back. "os thol shyl mali o byrn sarys."**

"i am no traitor. you must see that i answer to a higher calling. a higher power. i follow only corellon - father of all feys. i left golarion because i was not free to worship there. i had no choice but to leave. surely, i serve the queen and country more via my devoted service to it's patron deity"

* * *

“Bylaeli!” The enforcer cursed.***

“You! Dragonborn!” Kythan shouts, momentarily pointing his sword towards Arao and switching to common his tongue though still thick with the elvish accent. “You shall step away from us and let us leave this place and there shall be no further bloodshed. I have no interests in harming you. So tell your companion to stay his hand and just allow me to deliver this fugitive to court.”

Jarek: The Arrest

I kept my position steady behind the large tombstone, watching the drama unfold before me. This odd to find Guy and the lizard man in the cemetery, along with another strange fae folk.

Things get weirder and weirder here at Sandpoint, I thought to myself.

I thought I was alone on this mission to the cemetery. Good thing I managed to spot the goblin tracks before I heard someone entering the gate.

I quickly left the goblin trail, thinking that more of the foul creatures have returned. I was about to climb over the northern wall when I saw a familiar looking character hiding behind a large willow tree.

Gryffin gave a startled yelp as I tapped his back. The young eladrin almost cried out in surprise, but managed to keep his voice bottled up.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

The wizard waved at me, telling me to keep quiet. He pointed over a clearing and nudged his head over that direction.

I looked over and saw nothing. But then Gryffin's fae eyes were more suited to the night. He could see objects and people under the night sky as if it was a cleary sunny day.

Gryffin then tapped my hand and pointed over the other side of the clearing. I remembered our childhood games with Lloyd. The three of us would find ways of sneaking into Ven's store for some mid-morning treats. Lloyd invented these silly hand gestures for us to communicate silently. I was the one who taught them how to stay quiet and find the best hiding spots.

I go other side, Gryffin signalled me. You stay here.

I was about to protest when I heard noises in the clearing. By then I saw faint shadows moving about and arguing. One of the shadows sounded like the other eladrin priest.

I turned around and saw Gryffin vanish into the darkness. The wizard appeared agitated and corcerned over what was happening.

Moving closer, I now heard the voices arguing. It was Guy talking in some strange musical language. I hid behind a large tombstone and peaked at the clearing.

The priest of Colleron was debating with another eladrin. They were in the middle of an arguement when the dragon-born paladin came out of the main road, challenging them into a fight.

What a strange nigh this turned out to be!

I kept myself hidden, watching the drama unfold in front of me.

Arao: The Arrest

I trailed the Corellon cleric a few good yards away. He was probably not aware of my presence, as he seemed totally absorbed in his thinking. He set a good pace though, and there were a few times when I lost him from my line of vision due to distance. I squinted in the darkness, but the goddess Sehanine was kind enough to allow a cloudless night sky and provide bright moonlight so I could at least see the pathway.

I finally arrived at the cemetery plot site, and was surprised to see the cleric of Corellon, his hands raised and talking to another figure behind him, an armored person who held a long blade and wielded it ominously in the direction of the priest.

Paladins do not tolerate hostile acts against their companions, and I was in an irritated mood to begin with. I stepped unto the clearing, unsheathed my axe, and announced my presence to both of them.

"I don't know who you are or where you're from, stranger," I grimly addressed the armored figure. "But around here, we don't point our swords at the back of our friends. So I reckon you're must be a foe, and if you don't kindly let the cleric go, be prepared to fight."

The stirrings of battle awoke the warrior spirit within me. Pelor's divinity channeled forth and suffused me in a smoldering blue flame aura.

[OOC] Converting Your Character: Tome of Battle

Any specific character using one of these classes is defined more by his power selection than his class features. The wide range of power options mean that any two swordsages might feel radically different—perhaps even fitting into different class roles. Thus, you should look closely at the disciplines and powers of your particular character when translating him into 4th Edition.

The following list provides some tips on which role or roles each of the disciplines fits best (but note that exceptions abound):

* Desert Wind: Striker
* Devoted Spirit: Defender or Leader (particularly the healing stances and maneuvers)
* Diamond Mind: Striker
* Iron Heart: Defender
* Setting Sun: Striker or Defender (particularly the “throw opponent” maneuvers)
* Shadow Hand: Striker
* Stone Dragon: Defender
* Tiger Claw: Striker
* White Raven: Leader

Crusader
The limited range of power selection for this class (only three disciplines) would seem to make it the easiest of the three martial adepts to convert. However, there are two distinct roles that can be built with the class. If your character feels more like a defender (focusing on personal durability, perhaps preferring Stone Dragon maneuvers), you’re probably best off with one of the paladin builds (Player's Handbook p90). However, if you’re more of a Devoted Spirit/White Raven type of crusader, bolstering your allies whenever possible, then you might find the inspiring warlord build (p144) more to your taste. Either way, multiclassing between paladin and warlord isn’t a bad idea.

Swordsage
These characters most often tend to be strikers, though some lean more toward the defender role. If you lean instead toward striker, look at the two-blade ranger build (p104) or the brawny rogue build (p117). Defender-flavored swordsages should use the great weapon fighter build (p76). Either way, a multiclass feat or two from the other side of the fence isn’t a bad option. If your swordsage uses Desert Wind maneuvers, you might instead want to multiclass as a wizard or warlock to pick up a couple of fiery powers… or just talk to your DM about changing the damage type of a couple of your melee powers to fire.

Note: the swordmage class appearing in the September’s Forgotten Realms Player’s Guide provides another option for swordsages who wish to retain their mix of melee prowess and supernatural powers.

Warblade
Most warblades are probably defenders, but depending on your power selection you might fit better into the striker or even the leader role. I recommend looking at either of the fighter builds (p76), the two-blade ranger build (p114), or the brawny rogue build (p127). Warblades favoring White Raven discipline probably make good tactical warlords (p144). Multiclassing might well help you recapture the specific feel of your character.

Guillaume: The Arrest

"shar syl o mai jhyl (what took you so long)" i fell to my knees at the force of the blow. my head rang. and the world spun in every direction. i held the back of my neck as i stood up. slowly. i (tried to) gave a semblance of dignity as i face the newcomer. It was indeed an enforcer. I had little experience with them. Only stories often told to scare little children from misbehaving.

"Corellon, si tharaes os eir thaer, shaer o (Corellon, the Father of all feys, bless you)". I held out both of my hands in the open to signal that I am not planning to be hostile especially to a fellow eladrin.

The other eladrin seemed unconvinced and a raised eyebrow seemed to prove that. He kept the sword leveled at my heart though which is always not a good thing.

"Myr si saeros Guillaume os Dauphin, Ai eis caesi sai shol o shas sai si tylor os Kyonin sai eilaes thys os tostaer os eirdalylael os Si Vaedi. Ai tal shol o os os tysi shas sai Iridia ais Ai cali sai. Air air os tyli." (Stop the theatrics Guillaume Dauphin, I am here to bring you back to the council of Kyonin to answer for your crimes of abandonment of The People. I can bring you or your corpse back to Iridia if I have to. It is your choice.)

"You have come a long way from home dear brother. Surely you are in need of a night's rest. I beg that we put this serious business until tomorrow. You have my word, as a priest of Corellon, that I will not try to escape." Brief pause.

"I am in dire need of rest myself" I invite Kythan to my quarters.

The enforcer looked wary of my ivitation but a slight lowering of his balde proved that he is amicable to reason.

Vylaer! Kythan responded. Si shae shas sai si thysaer shor shi ei jhyl oli. Ai mar koli o aelyl sosti thys si Sali shaerysi shi kai eil thys o sai karaes os vaesylar shaelylol sher ais Ai mi eileirol merolor, eileirol eir eir, Ai mar shol sor shadi pyrn ol o eir shar myr cali shael pyli sai ei sarys jhoji o ei jhyl sosti eindrai.(Proceed! The way back to the forest will be a long one. I shall give you enough time for the Trance before we go and for you to gather your personal belongings but if I see anything suspicious, anything at all, I shall bring this blade down on you as what should have been done to a traitor like you a long time ago.)

"You have my word." I dejectedly answered as I picked myself up and proceeded back to the Cathedral with the enforcer following in my wake.

Guillaume: Into the Graveyard

Guillaume made his way slowly into the graveyard which was set in the shadow of the Sandpoint Cathedral and accessible via a gate to the north or from several doors leading into the cathedral itself, this expansive cemetery overlooks the Turandarok River. Stone vaults owned by affluent members of the town stand near the cemetery’s edges or at its center, while dozens of humble plots, each marked with a simple gravestone, sit amid trees and shrubberies.

Thankful for his fey eyesight which allowed him to make out the rubble in the dim light, the eladrin made his way towards the grave, careful not to call the notice of Naffer Vosk, the man Father Tobyn hired to take care of the graveyard a decade ago.

The plot was located not far from the town’s north wall. It was obvious, even to the cleric’s untrained eye, that the ground was recently disturbed as fresh earth covered the area. Probably Father Zanthus and Sherriff Belor’s doing, but they weren’t able to erase the numerous goblin tracks which littered the area. Guillaume managed to follow the tracks back to the wall where a ladder was still propped up – probably the same one used by the intruders to go in and out of the cemetery. Not daring to follow the tracks out of town alone, the eladrin went back to the plot.

Guillaume couldn’t help but think back to the day Father Tobyn died. He was fairly new to Sandpoint then, just a couple of months. Being a new comer, he lived near the church and he was one of the first on the scene, beaten back by the intense flames. It was a horrendous fire that leveled a large part of the northern section of town, although it is now known to have started in the priest's home. There was little of that structure left, and, in fact, only a few badly charred bones were recovered from the church.

What saddened the eladrin most was that the living quarters of the church were so completely obliterated by the incessant flames that they never found enough of his daughter to even properly bless her remains. She was buried beside her father, of course, for it is vital to consecrate the dead, but her coffin was filled with ash from the scene (as was her father's coffin, along with his bones).

Talk was his wife had died years before. She had been a woman consumed by depression, and had been found at the foot of the cliffs one morning, when her child was still just a baby. It was quite a horrible end to a very sad family tale, and the cleric knew that Father Tobias had not had an easy life, bringing up his daughter on his own.

A noise startled Guillaume out of his revelry and was just as surprised when something hit him from behind sending him sprawling down on the fresh earth that was Father Tobyn’s grave. Looking up he sees a figure silhouetted by the moon. The figure looked liked an armored humanoid, and elf or eladrin by the points of its ears and by the glow of its eyes. It was however the sword that was pointed as his chest that drew the most of the cleric’s attention.

"Pyl's aelael sol os velol Guillaurme os Dauphin. Ai eis Kythan Dayereth, aelysaes os si Tylor os Kyonin. Ai eis caesi sai eisaer o thys si tosti os saeryl sai si Vaedi eil sai si Cel Telandia Edasseril, si Viridian Tyrn."

(Translated from elvish: Don’t even think of running Guillarme Dauphin. I am Kythan Dayereth, enforcer of the Council of Kyonin. I am here to arrest you for the crime of treason to the People and to the Queen Telandia Edasseril, the Viridian Crown)

Jarek: Into the Graveyard, Prologue

The road to the town cemetery was eerie and silent. All the sounds of death and fighting had died down. The survivors of the goblin raid took the last remaining hours of the night to rest and console themselves.

I moved across the trees and the rocks, trying to be as silent as possible. I pulled up my green cloak, a gift from Shalelu. The garment was woven from hemp and other rough materials, dyed to resemble the shade of trees and woodland foilage. This was one of the ranger's tools, a way of staying hidden and unnoticed.

Moving quietly and steadily, I managed to steer away from anything that betrayed my position. Despite my lack of night vision, Shalelu had trained me enough to trust my other senses. To open my ears and listen to the sounds of the grass and the rocks.

I reached the entrace to the cemetery and saw the tombstones scattered across the large track of land. There was no one at the site but that didn't mean that there wasn't any so I kept to the shadows. I cautiously made my way towards the area where Father Tobyn's grave was located.

The ground at the grave was indeed newly disturbed confirming that there was indeed some activity in the. There were footprints everywhere. A group of human sized footprints appear to have come from the cathedral and the caretaker's shed. They could probably the ones who have returned the earth back into the plot.

Another group of of footprints headed towards the northern wall of the cemetery. I followed this and found them leading to a ladder which was still placed to allow access to the boneyard. Most of the footprints were small - definitely goblins. However, there is a set of larger footprints mingled with them. It was hard to determine who made them as it was smudged by the other goblin tracks.

A noise from the cathedral caught my attention and I decided to hide amongst the shadows of one of the nearby tombstones making sure it was big enough to cover me. I see someone was making his way into the cemetery and towards Father Tobyn grave. Someone too tall to be a goblin. Whoever he is, he is not doing a good job at being stealthy.

Arao: into the Graveyard, Prologue

After my vespers, I marched towards my room intending to rest and sign out for the night. Though I was completely healed of my wounds, and felt refreshed after my communion with my god, I knew I would feel even better and more powerful after a good night's sleep -- when I happened to glance out of the window and saw a familiar solitary figure leaving the church grounds.

"By the gods, that's the cleric of Corellon from my party. I wonder where he's heading off this late in the evening."

I suddenly remembered that he had talked to me earlier about going to the cemetery tonight and investigating the grave-robbery incident involving the body of the old parish priest here. I had politely declined and suggested that we take a look at the site tomorrow, first thing in the morning after we rest. Apparently it seemed he decided that the case couldn't wait any longer.

"Well, he's got guts to go to cemetery alone at night," I mused, shaking my head. "Either that, or he's utterly reckless."

I continued on my way towards my room, but a sudden inner voice began to gnaw my very soul. Cemetery. Night. Friend. Danger... Extreme danger. I stopped dead in my tracks. My paladin sense of camaraderie kicking in, overriding my logical thinking.

"Gaaaah," I exclaimed as my feelings overcame my rationality. "By Pelor's flame, if I'm late for tomorrow's consecration ceremony, I swear I won't let that pointy-eared cleric hear the end of it!" With that I turned around and marched back, seeking the exit of the temple. On my way, I marveled at how I was still adequately equipped for such a journey, armor, axe, shield and all.

Guillaume: Aelael Talar (Elven Chainmail)

"By Corellon!" I exclaimed which ended in a low whisper. "You did not have to ... This is too much!" I looked around suspiciously to see if anybody else had heard me. I surprised myself.

The chainmail armor was of exquisite make. It had elaborate patterns that mimick intertwined branches topped with spring leaves. And it caught light as the sparkling rivers that run through the ancient forests of old. It weighed so lightly. There was no doubt that it was made by no less than elvish hands.

"Then perhaps someone else would be interested in .." Father Zanthus had started to rewrap the armor. I pulled on his arm. "I didnt say I did not want it" I interrupted.

"Look at it .. " I ran my hand through the patterns. "Mi air tandrorolael" (She is magnificent). Father Zanthus looked at me oddly, not quite fluent in the language of my forebears but he had a good understanding of my reverence towards artifacts. They are considered sacred.

"And it is yours" He chuckled.

I kept myself in check though. I didnt want to appear to eager.

"Thank you .. in behalf of the holy mother church." I bowed in appreciation of his gesture for the last time.

I took my leave.

* * *

It is a gift. I am convinced of Corellon's hand in the matter. It was for the years of dedicated service to the church and devotion to Him. I am insignificant but let me be your instrument. I thanked to Corellon.

To my quarters behind the church, I hurried. I got out of my leather armor and took a well deserved bath. I repeated the day's events in my head. The goblin attack mostly taking center stage.

close to midnight, I have come to the conclusion of what I must do. I summoned a nightingale to inform Father Zanthus of my intentions. It was a simple ritual.

In my newly acquired armor I went into the night.

Arao; Die Dog Die; Epilogue

During the quiet lull that followed, I sat in a lotus position in front of the altar of Pelor, reflecting on the events that transpired today. Meditating fervently, I asked Pelor for the grace to learn from my first battle experience, and have more power and skill to overcome the mistakes of the past.

The prayer circle suddenly shone brilliantly, its sun-designed rune carvings shooting forth pillars of light that encased me inside. I felt the benevolent spirit of my god and was suffused by his power. An angel came down and blessed me, and I heard the heavenly melody of victory reserved for heroes.

The voice of Pelor echoed in my mind. You have asked for wisdom and you shall receive. You will be given a new power as well, to aid you in the tribulations that lie ahead.

My mind, body and spirit were renewed and strengthened with my communion with Pelor. As the light subsided, I thanked Him for providing his humble follower the strength to serve and protect.

Jarek: New Mission

I stepped out of Belor's office feeling triumphant. That pesky old sheriff always made things difficult for me. Half the people in this town thinks I'm a dim witted loafter thanks to him.

I would have paid a thousand gold coins just to see Belor's expression again. That old fart nearly fell dead when he heard that Lord Foxglove invited me to his hunt.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

I turned around and saw Shalelu walking behind me. My teacher had followed me out of the Sheriff's office. I barely noticed her light footsteps and her stealthy movements. Shalelu was taller than most elves, with dark amber hair cropped short like a young boy. I heard she's over a hundred years old already, but she still looked like a graceful dancer in her early twenties.

"I'm heading home," I explained. "I think I deserve some rest after today's excitement."

Shalelu's eyes widened, as if she was about to reprimand me.

"I have to get some rest. I still have to accompany Lord Foxglove to his hunt."

"That excuse won't work on me," my teacher calmly stated.

"But..."

"There's still time between now and the nobleman's hunt," Shalelu added. "And there are still a lot of things to be done."

I shook my head. "I thought Belor has everything covered."

"That's what he wants everyone to think," Shalelu replied. "That's why we're here to help him out."

"Help fix the things he can't do," I added.

The elf maiden's face softened. "I need you to do something," she said in a slow soothing voice, like the way a parent would talk to a disobedient six year old. "The Mayor has instructed me to lead the rangers out into the forest to track the goblins."

"So I have to go with you right now?" I asked. All the exhaustion and weariness of battle had vanished. I was feeling ready and eager to take on my next assignment.

"No," Shalelu answered. "You'll be staying here."

The words struck me deeper than any arrow would. My own mentor doesn't have enough trust and faith in me. "I guess not."

Shalelu sensed my disappointment and patted my on the shoulder. "I need you to go to the cemetry and examine the place. See if the place had been defied and if you can find something that can help us identify the one who ordered the goblin attack."

I looked at my teacher and gave a weak nod.

Jarek: Meeting with Sheriff Belor Hemlock, Interlude

"Jarek, please stay for a moment." The sheriff coughed out as the others proceeded to leave his office. The Shaonti closed the dook quietly as the last one of his visitors left and slowly urned around to face the woodsman.

"You were supposed to be our look out," Belor scowled at me, his personality shifting quickly to anger. The sheriff had better days and today wasn't one of them. He gazed overthe horn tucked in my belt. "You should have sounded the alarm." "

"Why didn't you blow the horn?" Mayor Deverin asked me. The noblemwoman stood by the sheriff's side, looking at me with disappointment.

"Things happened so fast," I explained. "There were so many of themand I panicked."

Sheriff Below snorted, as if he didn't believe a word I said. "I don't know why you even bothered to have Shalelu train this boy," he said to Kendra. "He's a liability."

"He did manage to save Lord Foxglove," the mayor answered. "And also saved Ven's store from being burned to the ground."

"That's not what I heard," Belor shook his head. "Ven told me that he saw Jarek climbing out of the roof, just as the store was on fire. Ven suspected that he was looting some stuff during the goblin raid."

"Looting some stuff?" I repeated in disbelief. "What did I loot? Pies?"

"That needs to be proven," Lad Kendra answered in my defense. "I know that Jarek isn't one of the ranger's best pupils, but I do know that he tried his best."

"Well his 'best' cost us the celebration and several broken properties," Belor muttered as he held out several legal forms over my direction. "He needs to learn the consequences of his actions."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

The sheriff gave me a wicked grin. "Well, you can start by cleaning up the dead goblin carcasses. He can then help rebuild the plaza and do the other twenty things I have in mind."

"That would be an appropriate punishment," the Mayor interjected. "But there is an urgent matter that Jarek needs to do first before anything else."

Belor raised his eyebrows. "What could be more important thanrebuilding the town?"

"Lord Foxglove," Kendra answered. "It seemed that our young woodsman had helped save the nobleman's life. He exepects Jarek to go hunting with him?"

I never saw Sheriff Belor's expression changed from towering vindictiveness to utter shock and disbelief. It seemed all the blood in his body had gone up to his head, making him blush a darker shade of red. His eyebrows quivered, as if each strand was howling in protest.

"Hunting?" He spat out the word as if it was a curse. "He wants to go hunting?!"

Meeting with Sheriff Belor Hemlock

Upon arrival at the Sandpoint Garrison, at the crossing of Tower and Main streets, you are met with bustling activity as returning militia men, some clearly injured, one being carried by a colleague and hanging limp over his shoulder, file inside the large stone fortress.

The garrison doubles as a militia base and jail, and is under the watchful eye of Belor Hemlock, the sheriff of this town. Belor is a Shoanti native, but has changed his family name to a Chelish translation. He is much loved in town, despite his dour, serious nature (yes, he takes his job very seriously, and yes, he has had a few "minor" run-ins with young Lloyd, Gryffin and Jarek in the past, albeit that he has always admonished the young men and sent them home with head bowed rather than having to actually apply the letter of the law to any misdemeanors).

You are ushered inside by an exhausted looking watchman, his face dirtied and bloodied. Another, younger man takes you up into the garrison, towards the heart of the building. Little words are spoken. People can see the goblin that trots unhappily bound behind you, and the weapons by your sides. It is obvious that Belor will want to see you.

Twin wooden doors, towering some twelve feet high, are pushed aside to let you enter a vast chamber. Inside three men huddle over a small table next to a small slit window that filters a weak beam of light into the room. There may be other windows, but heavy brocade curtains surround the walls on either side of the room, muffling the sounds and blocking the light. As you enter, the three men turn to face you.

You can see Sheriff Belor Hemlock, recognizable to the locals amongst you. He smiles a greeting at Gryffin and totally ignores Jarek, his eyes rise a little in surprise at your welcome gift. With him is Father Zantus, recognizable to all of you from the earlier ceremony (only an hour ago, but it feels like an eternity), and a small, fine featured noble lady with short cropped hair that the locals will again recognize as Mayor Kendra Deverin.

Belor addresses you. "A welcome sight, you all! We have heard of your heroics this day. Young Gryffin, I always thought you had a bit of a spark in you! And I see you bring us a treasure!" The goblin squeals and struggles against his bonds, but he is weak and his spirit is broken.

Belor continues: "We must speak. There have been ... developments ... that perhaps explain the raid. If you will, join us, for I feel that your deeds today have earned you some honesty from us." The mayor nods in agreement, but Father Zantus looks a little uncomfortable.

----

You spend almost thirty minutes in the company of the three, listening to their theories, and helping to extract what information you could from the goblin. What you can get out of the goblin amounts to little. They were given orders to kill everyone in town and burn down the place. He does not know the leader's name, except that it was one of "you longshanks". Their leader was on a secret mission to the town's graveyard, but he doesn't have a clue what that mission was. It was a secret, after all.

It is at this point that Father Zantus nods his head wearily. He had wanted to keep it secret, partly from shame, but partly from not wanting to upset the townspeople, but his acolytes came across the desecrated graveyard, and found that the body of Ezakien Tobyn, the old priest (and close friend of Guillaume) had been exhumed and stolen.

Belor tells you that so far six people have been found dead, as well as almost a dozen dogs and horses combined. In turn so far they have counted forty dead goblins (not including the ones you just killed in your final encounter, so more now), and expect that the body count on both sides will rise. It appears that the goblins were over-confident, and perhaps focused too much on having fun rather than on causing damage. It could have been a LOT worse!

The goblins fled north in droves when the battle turned against them, and the militia are too few to have given chase. Now is not the time, says the Mayor. The key is to calm down the people, secure the town, flush out any remaining goblins, consecrate the Cathedral (a smaller, private ceremony tomorrow is muted), and take care of the injured. There will be time to investigate the goblins later.

You are all thanked profusely. Father Zantus actually gives Guillaume a hug, and thanks the eladrin. "You are a proper gift from the heavens!" he says. "They sent you to be here when we would need you. It was fate!". He pulls the cleric aside and presents him with a bundle. “This was given to me as a gift a long while back but I haven’t had the opportunity to use it. It seems that Avandra has used me as the means to pass it on to someone who would find some use to it.”

Guillaume: Free Drinks for everyone, Interlude

at the mention of the hunt, guy reminisces of the good old days back in golarien. the legendary homeworld of the feys. guy loved the forests and the streams that run through and along it. it was genuine appreciation of all of corellon's creations. it was beneath it all a bedrock of magic.

as much as guy had wanted to stay live and die in golerien however. it was impossible. his family who are adepts of the arcane had become arrogant of their power. and they continue to insult him, which in their terms, rather unconventional ways. he was a religous and devoted man. this has caused him his relations especially after announcing his calling to become a priest. his family was doing in their influence to prevent him from doing so.

he had no other recourse but to leave despite golarien's strictest forbiddance of any fey from leaving the feywild at this time.

back to the present.

"how about you father dauphin, what say you to the hunt?" the nobleman asked.

"i could use some fresh air indeed" guy added to the conversation which had taken a turn, a wine glass or twelve ago, into recounting each greatest hunt. in which guy had nothing to contribute except his disagreement to harming such beautiful creatures. forest deers.

guy was not planning on actively participating in harming any creature at all save those which are outside corellon's protection. but of course he was not keen on being vocal about it. he felt alone. he misses his family and friends back home despite their misunderstandings.

"i dont belong anywhere" guy was reminded by this after thought. guy took another glass of wine feeling depressed all of a sudden.

Gryffin: Free Drinks for Everyone, Interlude

Gryffin would have stayed worried over Volioker were it not for the fact that the dwarf was now obviously enjoying being somewhat the center of attention regaling the crowd with the "despair of his suffering at the hands of the goblin invaders and the valiant and daring rescue mission lead by no other than his adopted son who like himself was an orphan."

And before Volioker could embarrass Gryffin further by launching a monologue on the hardships of being an orphan, he found himself suddenly relieved by the arrival of Brodert Quint - his other adopted father, who cut the Dwarf's story short with a scolding for not having "... known better than to be prancing about during a goblin attack with a feather in his cap."

And relief was about to turn back into embarrassment.

Luckily, the present townsfolk offered to cart Volioker off or rather "escort" him to the temple to be treated of wounds.

Which freed Gryffin's attention enough for him to hear the noble's invitation.

"...A hunt, perhaps?..." Gryffin muttered out of earshot as he rolled his eyes at Jarek while taking a sip of ale.

Jarek gave a smile and his own amused look.

"That's his idea of a reward?" And before Gryffin's tongue could launch on a tirade he thought the better of it. A noble would think a hunt was something glamorous and exciting - an adventure.

"...I will depart before ten!".

Gryffin and Jarek exchanged knowing looks and laughter followed.

"He must think wild boars sleep in late...haha" Jarek said and more laughter ensued.

* * *

"Hail, arcane wizard. Were you able to obtain the whereabouts of the sage of the town?" Arao asked respectfully.

"Oh, he just left." Gryffin answered as he turned and pointed to the balding man who just left with the others. "They were to bring him to the cathedral to be treated. Was there something you needed from him?"

"Perchance we can also seek his advice on the goblin attack today." Arao answered as he nodded.

Gryffin laughed. "Papa Quink is a sage of Varisian history and engineering. So unless it's about the dwarven engineerings at Janderhoff or anything related to being a cataloger at the Great Library of Magnimar, I doubt he'll be much of any help."

Arao: Free drinks for everyone; Interlude

I sat alone at the very end of the bar and watched the townsfolk celebrate the end of today's fighting. The general sense of relief and peace was a welcome feeling indeed. I wanted to be inconspicuous as possible, only occasionally acknowledging the cheers and adulation of the citizens, lest pride creep in and I forget that it should be Pelor who should be praised for lending me His strength.

The bartender came up to me and asked what drink I would like. He said that it was free and on the house. I was very parched from the day's battles so I decided to take him up on his offer.

"A glass of milk please," I ordered seriously. "Fresh cow's milk would be fine."

The barkeep's jaw dropped, and for some moments, he just stared at me incredulously.

I was perplexed by his reaction and felt awkward with the stare. "Umm, if you don't have any left, some cold water..."

"No, no, of course we have," he cut me off. "I'll get you one right away." He turned and walked away, chuckling and shaking his head, and muttering, "And I thought I've heard everything in all my years as a barkeep..."

The nobleman we rescued was talking about inviting us for a hunt, but no one seemed to acquiesce right away. We were going to move the dwarf Volio-sama, and our warlord comrade Lloyd to the infirmary in the temple. We were also going to the sheriff and deliver the captured goblin for interrogation, when I remembered something. Carefully, I made my way through the crowd and approached to address the eladrin wizard.

"Hail, arcane wizard. Were you able to obtain the whereabouts of the sage of the town?" I asked respectfully. "Perchance we can also seek his advice on the goblin attack today."

Free Drinks for Everyone

A group of around twenty have gathered around you now, smiling, looking relieved, and whispering amongst themselves. A somber Shoanti man who owns the White Deer comes out with a long length of rope that he passes to Guillaume, offering his assistance to the eladrin priest to tie up the shivering, whimpering goblin survivor. As he finishes the work, and there is no resistance from the goblin who is now talking pitifully to himself " Al tuun draal, draarthaar dac draal, draal an a drokaal druuc “(Am so dead, deader than dead, dead as a dunked dog) over and over to himself. The Shoanti man introduces himself as Garridan Viskalai, owner of the White Deer, and brother of the sheriff (although you catch a note in his voice that suggests that this is not something he is particularly proud of).

He brusquely orders all of his regulars back inside. "Free ale, you miserable cruds!" he half yells at them, "And for the love of Avandra don't go thanking me, you have these heroes to thank for my stupid generosity!" While he grumbles, you can tell his mood is light. As the crowd moves back inside he addresses you all. "I will have one of my kids take you to see Belor, the Sheriff. You are welcome back at the White Deer anytime. We serve the best Shoanti ales!" He proclaims this last point with serious fervor, as if it is something that cannot be misunderstood.

Some of the townfolk have offered to bring both Volioker and Lloyd to the cathedral for tending. The nobleman is smiling broadly, enjoying being a part of all of this excitement. Aldern Foxglove is his name, a handsome young nobleman from Magnimar, who appears to be well spoken, charming, and quite chatty. As you are all preparing to head off with the goblin, to follow one of Garridan's brood (a spotty lad of about thirteen) to the sheriff, Aldern pleads with you to let him repay you.

"A hunt, perhaps? I am here in Sandpoint for the week for the love of the hunt, and I was planning on heading out in pursuit of some wild boar. I would be honoured if you would join me on the hunt. My retainers will arrange horses, and the ride is short - just a hop to nearby Tickwood. No goblins there, I swear!" he laughs. "I am at the Rusty Dragon, please come by the morning after next. I will depart before ten!".

And with that the five of you are off through town (unless some of you plan to do something else in the meantime), leaving behind a pile of corpses, and the rank stench of the goblin dog.

Guillaume: Die Dog Die, End Combat

Aldern Foxglove. I repeated his name in my head. I took his to his side while he discuss matters with Arao. When they were done, I briefly introduced myself.

"Ah you must be that new priest Fr. D-o-w-p-a-n that I have heard so much about" Aldern took my hand and gave it a firm shake like a regular politician that he was.

"Dauphin. At your service. And please call me by my first name Guillaume or Father would suffice" I returned with a bow.

"Forgive me my lord. But what were you doing out here in the middle of danger?" There was no reproach. Just pure curiosity. "It was a good thing that we happened to be nearby. Corellon watches all of us.

Humans, elves, and -- dwarves (apparently)" I sheathed my longsword and observed a dwarf passed the lordship's shoulder. The other eladrin who was obviously an adept of magic like many of my cousins back in Golarien was seated beside the dwarf. I seem to have overheard him call the dwarf "father". Curious.

Meanwhile...

Elsewhere in town...

"Saer ti kyrdol. Shaesi pai Ai thol si oli cyrn eir Guillaume Dauphin?"

"Dar? Haaraan! A druuc'd akaagac!"

"Sael o eisi os bai iari sai ti."

Die Dog Die, End Combat

The crowd from the White Deer can be heard clearly, cheering and shouting encouragement. A few of the braver souls have started filtering out from the inn to stand and watch the proceedings, looking excited, but hanging back enough to suggest more than a little fear. The nobleman has regained his composure, and clenches his fist in support.

The lone goblin, realizing with a sinking clarity that this will be the end of him, and not too keen to die just yet, throws down his weapon and squeals for mercy. His little arms jut up into the air, palms stretched, showing his surrender.

“Haaraan, haaraan, haaraan, druuc'd mor!”("Please, please, please, don't hurt!") he squeals in goblin.

Guy, seeing his opportunity, moves forward to stand over the goblin, kicking his dogslicer far out of reach, and making sure, at the same time, that none of his companions decide to end the little green fellow's life.

The crowd cheer, and with the relative calm that descends after their outburst of joy, you notice that there is no discernible sounds of combat elsewhere in Sandpoint. It appears that the goblin raid may be over. At least for now.

The nobleman strides forward, his lip curled up in distaste at the goblin prisoner.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Aldern Foxglove.". The man thanks you all profusely, walking around, shaking each of your hands in turn. When he reaches Arao, he takes the big dragonborn’s hands and clasps them strongly. "A true hero! If you hadn't come along when you did they would have killed me. I owe you now. I am in your debt! I just wish those filthy little things hadn't killed poor Raxnor. He may have been too old for the hunt now, but he was still my favourite dog!."

Guillaume: Die Dog Die, Round 05

"you have to teach me that technique someday paladine of pelor" i commended respectfully. his knowledge of the healing arts is exceptional. i took careful note of what he has hastily but surely accomplished in the half elf's behalf. forgetting for a second that we were still amidst an ensuing battle.

i am on my knees beside lloyd. "you are one lucky .. man" i spoke in a low voice. he's breathing was steady now. i continued to study the bandages arao has strategically placed to stop his bleeding. remarkable.

"someone up there must either like or is playing a cruel joke on you" i chuckled at the thought. thinking in retrospect of the other times lloyd has had a brush with death. on the same day i might add.

suddenly the dragonborn commanded "HALT!!!". powerful voice. "oh my im beg your pardon .. i was just studying your work ... " i started rather feeling clumsy.

"NOT YOU .. the goblin!" arao interrupted in dismay while pointing the tip of his weapon at the goblin.

i turned to catch sight of one of the remaining goblins running away. i became aware then of the pommel of my longsword pushing against my side. i grabbed the hilt and drew it out. i advanced towards the goblin to block its escape.

the goblin shall not get away. the idea drummed in my mind. as i reached it, i spoke out load in eladrin speak .. "kedi tia cal shaeraer corellon!" (guide my hand blessed corellon!). for it was more a matter of faith.

i never truly developed the art of sword wielding. i knew only of the basics. passed lessons remembered. both my hands gripped the hilt tightly. i lunged at the goblin with a chopping blow. the longsword found its mark. it sliced thru the goblins leg armor and deep into it's leg. blood splattered. i swore that it had lost that very leg but i was surprised to see it run with a limp with haste.

it got away.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i was fustrated. how could i let it get away? i was in the middle of blaming myself when i heard clanks behind me. i turned to see a lone goblin. the last one.

i boldly called out (once again) to make sure everyone in the vicinity has heard.

"Surrender! You are outnumbered."

Goblins: Die Dog Die, Round 05

The dragonborn moved closer trying to block the goblin's escape. The goblin dropped its crossbow and drew its short sword and slashed at its bigger opponent. The dragonborn took a step back to avoid the slash and with that the goblin rushed pass the paladin, easily dogding the swing of the axe aimed for it.

It did run into the path of the eladrin cleric which managed to slash at the goblin's midsection as the little creature ran past it. Even bloodied from the attack, the goblin managed to run past the inn and even had time to turn back and shout curses at its enemies before vanishing into town.

A'k rhaan rhan okaan druul ac ach or o dech huul!

Arao: Die Dog Die, Round 04

I was aghast as I saw the cleric of Corellon get up after examining Lloyd and shake his head in dismay. He began chanting a mournful prayer. The first few words let me realize what the chant was for.

Extreme Unction! That's a prayer of Last Rites! This can't be! Can't you see he's still breathing! My thoughts sped heavily along this line. Vaguely I sensed the spectre of the raven Queen nearby, her death scythe prepared to cull another soul from the living.

No! My mind screamed in defiance. I won't let you have him. Not while he still has a pulse.

I had observed from the cleric's examination awhile ago that it seemed no vital organs were hit by the goblin's slash. The wound was indeed very deep, and I arrived at some form of medical conclusion that the warlord would bleed to death instead. At the corner of my mind, I sort of remembered from my healing lessons a last-resort medical technique that could be used for this kind of situation. I immediately took hold of all the cloth I could find to staunch the wound. Desperately I applied the technique as a tourniquet to try to stop the flow of the blood. Seconds passed, and it seemed miraculous indeed that the bleeding was temporarily stemmed. The warlord was still gravely injured, hovering on the border of life and death, but at least we had bought him some more time until we could get him to a more adequate medical facility.

Sighing in relief, I turned my attention to the fleeing goblins. I moved myself forward in order to block their escape. I transferred the shining mark of Pelor to the goblin on my left. I shouted back, "Heads up, follower of Corellon, we still have unfinished business to settle!"

Jarek: Die Dog Die, Round 04

The goblin sharpshooter's concentration broke as he saw the bodies of their leader and his gray mount. He lowered his crossbow, his jaundice eyes popped in disbelief. I sensed his fear growing, and his instinct for survival kicking in.

Another goblin zoomed pass the alley as I drew out another arrow. I was muttering some kind of curse or command at his companion. My guess was that they realize it was over, and they had to retreat.

As my enemy bolted off, I quickly followed him. Despite their short stature, goblins are fast runners. They move even quicker when their lives are at stake. You won't get away that easily, I thought as my enemy bolted.

I ran back towards my companions, following the goblins as they made a sharp turn back in the main road. I readied my bow, hoping to release the arrow as I catch a glimpse of my prey.

As I approached the intersection, I stumbled on the body of the dead wolf. The two goblins were not far away. I could hear them shouting at each other in their barbaric tongue.

"Lloyd!" Guy's voice broke my concentration. His tone sounded grave and somber. I briefly glanced over his direction and saw the eladrin kneeling on the ground beside Lloyd. Apparently the warlord had taken a grave wound and was bleeding profusely again.

"Damn it!" I shouted. This is the second time today!

I looked back at the goblins. They were running further away. I released my arrow in rage. The image of Lloyd bleeding to death played over in my mind, distracting my aim and concentration.

Gryffin: Die Dog Die, Round 04

Gryffin sees the goblin which stabbed his dad make a run for it. The urge of hurling a magic missle after it was great but the need to aid Volioker was greater. The eladrin picked himself up from the roof of the garbage shack and quickly made his way to where his dad fell; easily climbing down the shack and running over the corpses of some of the goblins.

Gryffin found his dad on the ground and carefully lifted his head.

"Dad? Here drink this."

The wizard carfully poured the healing potion he found from the goblin warchanter earlier. The locksmith managed a cough before opening his eyes to stare at the figure above it.

"Sweetie? You're alright. I knew you would be." Volioker managed to say before a round of coughing cut him off.

"Don't worry about me. These dwarven bones might be old but they're still pretty tough. I just need to lay down a bit and get some rest. I’ll be all right.”

With that, the dwarf closes it eyes and falls into a deep sleep - lightly snoring in Gryffin's arms.

*

The goblin sharpshooter saw its companion run just past him and heading to the mouth of the alley. It then saw one of the longshanks run up towards te alley. It shook it head, shrugged and then smirked as at fired another shot at the human which was heading towards it. It then saw the reason why its companion was running - Gwag was down and the dragonborn standing on top of it. The shot went wild as the goblin sharpshooter followed - and even overtook - its companion towards escape.

[OOC] Converting Your Character: Complete Divine

Favored Soul
Beyond a couple of fairly minor (or high-level) class features, a favored soul is basically a cleric who casts like a sorcerer; thus, your best bet is to choose one of the two cleric builds (Player's Handbook p61) that matches your character’s style of play. It’s possible that one of the paladin builds (p90) might be a better match for you (or one or more paladin multiclass feats), so take a look at that option as well.

Shugenja
This divine spellcaster combines powers traditionally associated with clerics with those more familiar to wizards; thus, it’s likely that your shugenja is a blend of the leader and controller (or even striker) roles. Take a look at the spells you prefer, and use the information in the cleric (p60) and wizard (p156) entries to help guide your decision. Your element focus may help you determine which role (and class and build) is the best fit for you.

Air shugenjas are a slightly better fit for the controller role than any other; however, your non-air spells may actually define your role more clearly than your air spells. If you strongly associate your character with control-based air spells such as sleep, color spray, and control winds, the control wizard build (p157) might be a good choice. With your DM’s permission, you could describe your powers as deriving from the divine power source rather than the arcane—which wouldn’t have to change their mechanics.

Earth shugenjas match the leader role best, and the devoted cleric build (p61) works well for you.

Fire shugenjas generally find themselves in the role of controller or striker, thanks to their wide array of ranged or area spells (burning hands, searing light, lightning bolt, etc.). Either the war wizard build (p157) or the scourge warlock build (p130) is probably best for you, depending on whether you prefer area attacks or single-target attacks. Again, calling your powers divine prayers rather than arcane spells keeps your divine flavor without requiring mechanical changes.

Water shugenjas are traditional leaders, fitting the devoted cleric build (p61) well.

Spirit Shaman
Since the spirit shaman draws her spells from the druid list, her party role depends heavily on the flavor of the spells she uses. Most spirit shamans probably fit best into the leader role (favoring healing and buffing spells); such characters should use the devoted cleric build (p61), and adjust their class features as follows:

* Remove chainmail from list of armor proficiencies.
* Add Nature to the list of class skills.
* Change your turn undead power to chastise spirits, extending its effects to insubstantial undead and creatures with the elemental or fey origin.

However, if your spirit shaman prefers damaging spells, she might be better off using the war wizard build (as a controller; p157) or the scourge warlock build (as a striker; p130), and flavoring her powers as divine rather than arcane. In this case, you’ll have to work with your DM to adapt any spirit shaman class feature to the new class.