Well so much for trying to be reasonable with an Ur-priest masquerading as an orc leader. He asked for a chair, I figured very well, lets start this diplomatically, I think the next time I'm involved in an interrogation of an Ur-priest the first thing I do is kick in his teeth then explain this may make it a little more difficult to understand him but I owed a favor to the last one I encountered. During the questioning I learned that the potion that Slyl has is a potion of gaseous form, nice to know. I also learned from where, or more specifically from whom, that unholy, unnatural sound came from. Yet another reason to kick in any other Ur-priest's teeth. We got confirmation that Ur-priests, Banites, orcs and opportunistic price-gougers are working together on this, not good, not good at all. We gather up all the children and other remaining survivors, load them into a carriage found at the stables and make for as quick a refugee march towards Kurth as we can. During our trek to Kurth we happened across another merchant wagon, the driver not only knew Animosus but he works for the Constans family. A family of merchants! I misread Animosus, I thought he had military background, well I guess that explains why the battles have been rather unformulated. He's good enough with his sword to think formal military training, but the son of a merchant, and not even the eldest son....
As we approach Kurth we witness the sight of the sun casting full glow on the sides of the Earthspur Mountains and make our way inside the gates of Kurth. Kurth is under repair, hasty repair and I get the impression that they are expecting more trouble and may already have infiltration problems. The forge is in full operation and is looking for help. Judging from what I hear the work is so rushed and sloppy it would make Bromar's beard go straight, best to not buy anything made here recently. I visit a blade shop next door and purchase a couple of better quality blades, the scrollwork on the hilts indicate that the blades were made well south of here. I also get Slyl a nice set of throwing daggers, there is a depth to Slyl that I need to better understand and gifts, friendship and respect tend to garner truth. Alyona has grown a little distant these last couple of days, perhaps the weight and realism of the nomadic life of an adventurer is setting in. I admit that I've been a little less attentive to her and we all need a good bath but situation has dictated that.
I have some theories about all the occurrences of late that are better left not put to paper. I need to share them with someone, and someone I can trust until more evidence happens our way.

The results of the interrogation of the orc revealed that there were in fact more survivors, children no less, in some underground chambers of the Church of the Earth Mother. This church like the Abby of Mystra, had been taken over by the Banites and was being used as their headquarters. I hurried back to those hidden at The Winged Cat and learned that there was a secret wall that should be accessed from the rear of the building. We chose to send Corim and Slyl ahead to quietly check things out, which went well for about only three or four minutes after they left, then yelping brought us all together in a hurry, severed hands and quite a few of them crawling all about, at least the Banite icon makes some sense now. Seems they were searching the wrong wall, I think next time I'll draw them a diagram on Slyl's slate. Once the right wall was searched it opened up and stairs went down. Again Corim and Slyl go forward, and again the rest of us hurry in to mayhem already in progress. Slyl was pointing frantically at the three chains that held prisoners that were attached to the belt of our target. I'm still not sure why we were hitting the chains first but at least *I* know when to just do and not stand around asking for explanations. We push forward and check out a few chambers below, once more we have Corim and Slyl go forward to check things out and yes, once more, a few seconds after they return we have more angry visitors. I think maybe next time I'll say "Slyl and Corim why don't you go ahead and poke that hornets nest a little just to get them all stirred up so we can have a good fight." This fight WAS very different, first I still do not know what it was, or where it came from but the most unholy, unnatural sound echoed through that hallway. There is a time to fight and there is a time to retreat and take stock of the situation. THIS WAS THE LATTER! Alyona, Slyl and Corim had reactions that seemed to agree. I don't know if it was presence of mind or formal military training or what but Animosus, Pavel and Avirey stayed to trade blows. Corim and I tried to close back into the fray after reassessing the conditions and just as I got back that big orc leader started to push past me, unarmed. Oh no you don't. The leader orc who was fading into and out of his orcish appearance before my very eyes had my heart racing and I reached out and picked him up, off the floor, by his throat, his eyes shut and his body went slack. Slyl bound him very quickly, oddly quickly. We heard the sounds of wracking agony and an odd chanting. We bolt forward and empty into a chamber that is so gristly, so vile and demented that I am choking back the lump in my throat thinking about it as I write. We find the children, and more company. The company offers little resistance and the only thing notable was the sweet shot that Leif produced. I doubt he even saw where he was aiming with his tear filled eyes, but I'm pretty sure his bolt entered through an old rivet hole. Planned or not it was a great shot, I tried to lighten his mood because he was visibly shaken but he gave no response, I even had to physically pick him and keep him from denting up his blade on the torture and dementia devices. This was a place I was quite ready to put some distance to.

Finally the rain has started to let up. We rode to Manyoak to warn them of the dangers of a small orc army nearby. As we approached a trail crossing I recognized a merchant wagon, that very same wagon that belongs to those Z brother bastards, and something is very awry, a heavily blood stained cloak is flapping loose out of the door. Time to settle a score, I quickly spurred my horse on and asked Slyl for his mace, I needed something big, heavy and solid. Something that wouldn't have just snapped in the wagon wheels. Why do they always give me the looks and call me impetous, sometimes you just don't have time to explain. The mace held, and that wagon keeled to one side, toppling sideways. The driver and I caught eye, and I'm certain he recognized me. That sonofskiz looked like he was gonna run, but not while I had the advantage of horse. We cleaned up the problem quickly, but something else odd. A cask of blood, well more than blood, a magical blood seems very important in these strange days. One of the merchants spoke in gleeful detail about the horrors he and his cohorts inflicted, I just could not stand to hear anymore, I realized my actions were rash about three seconds after I felt my arm react and heard his breath get wheezy, his last words were about the cask needing to reach Kurth. Unless that unholy ooze of blood can crawl back into the cask I don't see this container is getting there. As we approached Manyoak there was a bridge, something didn't feel right about it, but I didn't see anything until the arrow caught Slyl. The thoughts "Damn, why are you lagging behind Animosus? Get your Tyr's favored arse up here.", were about the last cohesive thoughts I remembered until I was dangling from a chain that was part of a trap on the bridge. My mount did not fair well, but at least his death was quick and painless. We approached the edge of Manyoak cautiously, if the three men that were captured and beaten had embelished their story we were not about to take chances. We found more survivors and they had confirmed what were recently told. Animosus and I went to check our flanks and and I was nearly stunned, a group of orcs marching in formation! We were outnumbered but had the element of surprise, not exactly conditions of an honorable fight, but the fighting seems to be getting less and less honorable lately. I turned to Corim and said " If there's a time for one of those dark stones, now is it." He nailed it right in the middle of them, great throw. Animosus seemed irritated about this, again, but he never gives us any his supposed military advice until after the chaos starts. A rider burst around a corner and was bearing down right into the darkness just after Corim went into it. I tried to get a shot on leg of the riders mount but the rider passed through the darkness, turned and was motioning a challenge to Animosus. I was closing distance and calling out to Animosus if I should interfere, he never responsed so the leg of the rider was my first target. The orcs started to find their way out of the darkness and they fell one by one, all expect one, and he was making a run for it. At first glance I thought I saw one of the residents of Manyoak dash past me, but it was an unfamilar face, and I have never seen a man run that fast in my life. He positioned himself between the orc and Alyona and then later chased down that last remaning orc. The orc was collared and bound and ready for questioning. I saw the contempt of a man who I would swear had no likeness of a holyman when Animosus questioned the orc, I think his actions caught himself off guard because Animosus was very quiet afterwards. When all the blades and arrows were still, we cautiously greeted the two men that sided our way during the fight. Pavel, the very fast runner, and another heavily armored one called Averiy. They too wish travel to Kurth to issue warnings.

What a night, where to start.....
After we mended from the warg attack, we came across a clearing with a small orc emcampment, drunken sots. While we were investigating their purpose for being so close to Respite Run nearly two score heavily armed orcs rode in and there seemed to be some heated debate between those camped and the ones that rode in. This big sonofaskiz that was leading the riders looked like he was about to cut another of the orcs in two, but then held back. I'm rather concerned, it is often spoke of that orcs seldom will unite in these kind of numbers unless they have a very strong leader. After a short bit the orc riders went back over the opposing bluff. That's when things got wierd. Some of orcs and a few stray goblins started to approach our position, the lighting wasn't the best but the firelight I saw dancing near one of the tents gave me an idea. Just before I bolted for the tents something startled them so I went running past the pigfaced sots and flared up the fire that was inside one of the wall-less tents. I figured that if I could catch their tent on fire, they'd have more concerns than a perimeter check and it might leave our group, which was well too spread out, a chance to either reassemble or stay hidden. I imagine the rider orc leader would be laughing hard enough to fall off his mount that the drunken sots caught their own damn tent on fire. Well with all the rain most of their gear was soaked, so the tent didn't go up nearly as quickly as I hoped. I no sooner turn around to gain my bearing and that darkness, that black darkness so thick you wonder if you've fallen to the abyss, was back. Well the battle was confusing, but it was just a little different for me this time, I was actually starting to picture the positions of people based upon the sounds of battle, I could hear Lief, I pictured where he was, I heard Bromars axe skitter off a gauntlet or greave and find meat and I could hear Animosus's heavy exhale when he swung. I still don't like that abysmal darkness, but I found I could function fairly well in it.
The drunks fell to blade and Slyl found a backpack, one with the name Ravenhelm stitched to it. Alyona! He had found it and Bromar blurted out that the orcs said they had her tied to some altar to be raped. Seems there was a spire to some church in the treeline and we were off, casting caution aside. Corim was making great ground until he got slammed in the ankles with some kind of swing trap. Damn, them orcs are up to something big, traps now too. We'll I convinced Corim and Slyl to reset the trap so that maybe we could fool the rider orcs into thinking we hadn't been here if they saw the sprung trap. Just as we came to another clearing I could make out the church, a couple of skeletons, big ones were guarding the doors. That was it. I had had enough prancing and posturing, I was tired and I was pissed. I'm still not quite sure what was going on with my sword, but it seemed pissed too. I think that sword would have jumped up out of the sheath and swung itself if it could. Animosus charged in and took a heavy magick blast, others advanced but I was on a steady stride for that door, and Gond himself was not about to stop me. I remember a skeleton approaching me, I remember frantic movements nearby but I for me it was action without thought, I'm not even sure I was breathing until I had cut loose Alyona. I sometimes get focused like that when I'm forging.
I was totally amazed at her reaction, she was no sooner dressed and was goading us to press onward. Why do I always fall for the headstrong ones? I was looking for a nice little corner to cozy up to and someone mentions something about figuring out how to get out of here and something about figuring out inscriptions on the altar. I glance over and the inscriptions are as plain as day, figure it out?, nothing to figure out. No sooner do the words leave my lips and the altar grinds open to reveal stairs, cobweb filled stairs heading down. I remember the words well, it was strange because the phrase was about me, about my being, about my skills and about why I came to Respite Run to see Bromar. We descend the stairs and come to a locked portcullis, Animosus and the others open it and just after make ground to its other side we come to a dead end. Fine, lets rest here, but no we do more poking around and find some weapons and gear that has to be 50 years old, easily. I saw the glint of a broach. What a beautiful piece, the others can have what they want, that broach is too pretty for some man to ding, scratch and muck up. I will not hear of it. No, I will pin it on Alyona. More discussion about the things we find, some of it is making sense much of it does not, but the one idea that hits my ears is to head to a town and get some sleep. We settle on returning to Respite Run, its closer but will mean more travel time morrow if we are to continue on to the hutcluster Manyoak. Closer works for me. More orcs after we ascend but these fall quickly and we get back to the Three Torches and much of the town is still in the main room! Some folks were even sleeping in chairs and on benches, we are welcomed a heros welcome and embellished stories of our actions fill our ears. The offer of a hot bath and a bottle of wine was all I needed and it quickly came. I still can hear Lief running rampant in his song of our deeds as I climbed the stairs. The water was soothing, the wine dizzying, and the only thing that would have made it more comforting would have been a soft pair of hands rubbing out the tightness of battle still in my neck. We avoid the clutches of death just to argue about a name for ourselves in the morning, many of us are glad to enter the debate and tie a memorable name to our deeds, to give the minstrels ideas to amuse the throngs, Animosus was unmoved. I can't believe I offered up his name as leader, now I wonder if we'll be remembered as the Sir Stick-in-the-mud and the Nameless Wonders, Avengers of Old Ladies, Harbingers of Lullabyes and Defenders of the Forgetful, oh that'll make a grand song. I should have elected Skippy, at least the stories would have been fun. I've inspected every inch of my blade, it is in perfect condition, it still is very warm to the touch, and perplexes me as to what exactly happened, but I am almost certain that it was when Bromar and I had that mishap with the fire and the old texts and to when things started acting oddly with it. The more I think about it there had to be magic texts in that fire to make this blade imbued with what it has become.
I forged this blade with the metals laced in as close to the descriptions of the myths as I could, I expected that if the myths were correct that the process would have been much more....controlled. I now have a new source of information about combined metals in weaponsmithing and hopefully Bromar will help me in understanding some of the old and supposedly forgotten dwarven weaponmaking skills. Weapons with the powers that myths speak of have claimed me a witness twice in as many days. I recall a passage in my schoolage studies from the Counselors of Prophecy about "..... items of great magicks pick their allies and foes; they only stay long in the grasp of heros..." I can't recall the rest of the passage but do I remember it was used as a lesson on tolerance. Time to mount up and ride to Manyoaks.