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    Fallen Angels - The Story of a 592 CY LG Adventure in the Yeomanry
    Posted on Fri, June 28, 2002 by Trickster
    reswald writes "This is the fictionized account of a mini-module adventure run at the Weekend in the Yeomanry (21-23 June 2002) to resolve the "Marry a Farmer's Daughter Contest" which has been in progress since 1 Jan 2002. It describes the aftermath of The Landstraad or Land Terror, the qreat earthquake that has devasted a large area of The Yeomanry.

    Author: Reswald


    FALLEN ANGELS
    by Bill Howell

    By: reswald
    (Used with Permission. Do not repost without obtaining prior permission from the author.)

    A Bachelor Party

    In the late afternoon the door of the Festive Granger swung open, admitting an unlikely trio talking in loud and cheerful voices. Aoric, the bartender, eyed them for a moment thinking: “Now here’s a lively bunch! Obviously celebrating something.” He quickly studied each of them in turn.
    First through the door and into the tavern was a large fellow, of obvious Suel extraction by his hair and complexion. Strapped across his back was one the largest swords Aoric had ever seen, while emblazoned across his breastplate is the symbol of Lendor, the God of Time. He also had that ineffable aura about him which says “paladin”. He wore the tabard of the militia and the chevrons of a serjeant.
    Next through the door, almost invisible behind his large companion, was a small halfling, less than three feet tall. He too wore the militia tabard and the chevrons of a serjeant, but unlike the martial appearance of the paladin, his aura spoke of magic and spellcasting.
    Last through the door came another human, somewhat non-descript when contrasted with his exotic companions. Aoric was not surprised to see that he too wore the uniform of a militia serjeant, beneath a cloak made from the skin of some huge white bear. Shorter than his Suel friend, his red-gold hair and emerald green eyes spoke of mixed heritage. On a short chain about his neck hung a medallion with the Rune of Pursuit graven upon it.
    As the party approached the bar, Aoric said: “Brave defenders of the Yeomanry League, what can I get for you?” The halfling replied, “Three tankards of ale, for we celebrate the demise of a friend!” “Indeed,” the Suel solemnly intoned, “Another good man will soon be lost to us!” They both began to laugh, seemingly at the expense of their friend, who blushed and replied, “Theopolis, Welby, you fellows are full of it! By The Summoner, I’m not dying! I’m just getting married!”
    “Friend Reswald, would that it were something so trivial as dying,” Welby replied, shaking his head in mock sadness. “Then we could take you to a cleric and have you raised. Marriage is so much more … permanent.”
    “Indeed. Your time of freedom is almost finished, my friend. Let us make the most of it!” said Theopolis, miming hoisting a tankard. “A toast. To Sergeant Reswald and his blushing bride. May he never confuse her with her twin sister… unless he wants to, of course!”
    “Thanks a lot! You two have such a wonderful sense of humor. Just try to keep it under control during the service and the party afterwards. Seriously, I’m very grateful to both of you for standing by me during this wedding. Since I lack any family of my own, it’s lucky I am to have good friends and comrades to take their place. Now, let’s get down to some serious drinking!”
    Hearing the last, Aoric began to smile. The Festive Granger stood to earn some serious coin this night, or he missed his guess. As he served up the first round, he said, “For a bachelor party, the first round is always on the Festive Granger. Congratulations, young man. Who is the lucky lady? Some one here in Longspear?”
    “No, she is the daughter of a farmer just outside of Hardwick. Kelthia, daughter of Aldon Denwith. We are only here in Longspear to meet my future brother-in-law and his friends before journeying to Hardwick. Kelthia has a twin sister, Iylthia, who is also to be wed. It’ll be a double ceremony.”
    “And a double bachelor party, if this Orin fellow ever arrives,” Welby added. “How will you recognize him, Reswald?”
    “Based on the description in Kelthia’s last letter, I don’t think we’ll have much trouble.”

    At that moment, the door of the tavern swung open again and another party entered. Aoric looked up and did double take; one did not see many Bakluni in Longspear! Yet there was no question that the man entering was of that blood, even if he did wear the tabard of the Yeomanry over his flowing robes. The swarthy features and coloration removed all doubt of that. Accompanying him was not one, but two halflings, a male and female. Reswald took one look and said, “That must be my future brother-in-law now. And look, Welby; a female halfling wizard. Finally, you’ll know what to say to a girl; you can talk shop!”
    Stepping away from the bar, Reswald walked forward to greet the newcomers. “You must be Orin. I’m Reswald, your soon-to-be brother-in-law. And these two fellows are my groomsmen, Theopolis and Welby Dardragon. Hail and well-met.”
    The Bakluni rendered a crisp militia salute and replied with a distinct accent, “Hail and well met, Serjeant Reswald. I am Orin the Elder, Humble Servant of Azor’alq and your servant as well. These are my companions and friends, Mysta Gonagin and Maynard, who hail from the Bandit Kingdoms.” Reswald returned the salute then stuck out his hand: “No military formalities here! We’re both off-duty and soon to be family. You and your companions have a seat, Orin, and join us in a round of ale. The first is on the house here.”
    “Unfortunately, I must decline your gracious offer. My religion forbids the consumption of alcohol. However, my companions would be more than happy to partake with you.”
    Hearing this, Theopolis whispered to Welby: “I’d always heard that the Bakluni were a barbarous people. Now I see it’s true. Forbidden to drink ale? Lendor preserve me from such a fate!”

    Soon the party was seated around a large table, exchanging stories and tales of their various lands. Mysta and Welby were deep in the talk of the Arcane, while Theopolis and Orin exchanged tidbits of the theology of their respective gods. Reswald thought the Bakluni seemed a fine fellow, virtuous and valorous, if a bit foreign. Still, he was no man to begrudge an immigrant the chance to become a Yeoman. He had arrived a refugee himself almost a decade ago, and now was a serjeant on his way to citizenship and about to marry the daughter of a Yeoman. He loved that about the Yeomanry; here a man was judged by who he was and what he did, not where he came from or who his father was. Trithereon the Summoner keep it always so! Perhaps, someday, the land of his birth would be as free as this land of his heart.
    Just as Reswald stood to go to the bar to order the next round, the entire room began to shake; dust fell from the rafters, mugs and tankards behind the bar tumbled. After a few seconds, a low rumble was heard. Remembering his experiences in the Hellfurnaces to the south, Reswald recognized the sensation at one. “Earthquake!” he cried. “Everyone outside!”

    Standing in the street, the bachelor party waited for the shaking to stop. After what seemed a long time, but was probably only a minute or so, the ground beneath their feet was again quiet. The streets of Longspear were filled with frightened folk, but it seemed clear that the quake had caused no major damage. Finally, Reswald spoke: “Well, that was lucky! It could have been worse; we could have buildings collapsed and half of Longspear ablaze right now.”
    Orin replied, “Yes, we were lucky. I have a feeling others were not so fortunate. Do you remember the delay between the first tremor and the rumble? That means the center of the shaking of the earth was not close by. And if it was far away and still shook this town so strongly…”
    Mysta spoke up: “I’m not sure but it sounded to me like the rumbling sound came from the southwest. Isn’t that the direction of Hardwick?” The entire group was silent for a moment, as the implications of her words sank in. Then Reswald, his face pale and his voice shaking said, “ I ride tonight for Hardwick. If any of you would come, meet me at the South Gate in 30 minutes.” With that, he took off at a dead run.

    Twenty-five minutes later, three men on horses and three halflings on riding dogs galloped out of Longspear and onto the Hardwick Road, riding into the darkness and the devastation.

    Into the Darkness


    A day and a half later, Reswald stood on the edge of the Escarpment and felt despair clutch at his heart.

    When this nightmare had begun, back in Longspear, he had hoped that he was only being an alarmist fool. Riding through The Little Hills, he had seen no evidence of quake damage and had begun to think that there was nothing to worry about. Still they had pushed their mounts mercilessly to reach Fort Baxter before noon the next day. After obtaining fresh mounts there and heading down the Old Road, the magnitude of what they faced began to dawn.
    It wasn’t the cracks in the Fort’s walls, the toppled trees, or the occasional landslides along the road that brought it home. No, it was the flood of refugees, pouring up the road from the collapsed buildings of Dart and further south, all fleeing something they were already calling The Landstraad, the Land Terror. The tales they told were wild and unbelievable, rumors of dragons attacking, demons from the Pits, whole towns swallowed up by the Oerth, the end of the Yeomanry or perhaps the world. Who knew what had really happened ahead of them? Reswald was sure of only two things: Whatever had happened was very bad, and none of the refugees they had met so far were from Hardwick.
    And so they had pushed further into the devastation, until they faced the final, awful truth.

    Now the party stood upon the Old Road, but also on the new edge on the Escarpment. Welby had levitated up to get a better view and estimated that the Escarpment now ran perhaps 50 miles further south the before the quake. According to him, Hardwick was “…gone. It’s just not there, anymore! As near as I can tell, the entire town fell away with the rest of the land.” Using the damaged landmarks as best as possible, Reswald and Orin had tried to find the Denwith farmhouse, or at least where it had been. Their search had led them to the very edge of the new Escarpment. The two of them stood looking down at the wreckage of all their hopes.
    Perhaps 50 feet below, on a rocky ledge jutting out from the face of the new cliff, were the remains of the shattered Denwith home. The farmhouse, or what was left of it, lay on its side, collapsed and broken. Still, if the house lay there, it was possible that someone still breathed. Muttering a pray to The Summoner, Reswald began unpacking rope. Orin began to do the same.
    “Let me levitate down to the ledge and be sure it’s stable,” Welby said. “There’s no point in climbing down to it only to precipitate the whole thing into falling hundreds of feet.” “Check if you wish,” replied Reswald, “but I’m going down regardless.” Orin nodded in wordless agreement. A few minutes later, the whole party stood on the (fortunately stable) ledge.
    A rapid search on the wreckage quickly revealed several things. First, the bodies of the Denwiths were not buried in the rubble as they had feared. They did find some dried blood, indicating someone probably had been in the house when in landed here and been injured, but they were not here now. That was the good news.
    The bad news came in two parts. First, that there was another body in the wreckage, a small hairless albino creature, naked except for a harness, killed by the wood axe sunk deep into its spindly chest. Second, that there were numerous small footprints and several drag marks leading to an opening in the cliff face.
    Orin examined the dead creature and spat. “Jermlaine, I think, though I have never myself seen one. Scavengers of the Underdark. They only prey on the weak and injured.”
    Theopolis kicked the corpse with his boot. “Looks like this one found someone who wasn’t as weak or injured as he thought. That means someone was still alive when they came out after the house fell. Maybe more than one.”
    They were all silent for a moment. Reswald looked at Orin who nodded, then he spoke: “Orin and I will be going in after them. We have to. However, all of you do not. You were invited to a wedding, not to crawl through the darkness hunting vermin in order to save people who are probably already dead. If any of you wish to stay here and watch the mounts, neither Orin or I will think any less of you.”
    Mysta spoke up first: “Neither Maynard nor I would desert a friend at a time like this. We’ll see this through to then end. Right, Maynard?” Her companion was silent until she elbowed him. “Right, Maynard?” “Oh yes, of course,” was his unenthusiastic reply.
    Welby spoke next: “I said I’d see you married, and see you married I will! Otherwise, how could I collect on my bet with Theopolis here? Who knows what he might do if I wasn’t there to keep him honest. Everyone knows that paladins are not to be trusted; they’re all too repressed for their own good!”
    “And I shall come also, if for no other reason than to help Welby up after he trips over his wagging tongue!” Theopolis exclaimed. “Only Lendor determines when a person’s time has come. I do not fear to walk in the dark places of the earth to help a friend.”
    “Truly, Azor’alq spoke aright when he said, “A man’s wealth is measured in the worth of his friends.” Today, I know I am as wealthy as the Sultan of Zeif,” said Orin. His throat choked by his gratitude to his friends, Reswald could only nod his agreement

    As so, with Reswald in the lead to follow the tracks and Orin immediately behind him, the band of friends headed into the darkness.


    Village of the Damned

    “If ever I see the sun again,” thought Reswald, “I’ll never crawl into another hole beneath the ground!”
    The tunnel they had crawled through for the last two hours was winding and narrow, so narrow in one place that Theopolis and Orin had both been forced to remove their armor to squeeze through. “I hope we are not trying to make a hasty escape back this way,” said Theopolis. “If we are,” replied Orin wryly, “then you and I shall certainly be the rear guard!”
    They had all laughed at that, but the joke seemed less funny when, a hundred yards down the tunnel, two Xorn had materialized through the floor and attacked the heavily armored warriors. After a fierce fight, one Xorn lay dead and the other was driven off, but both Theopolis and Orin were sorely wounded. Fortunately, Maynard had some gift with healing magic, and was able to restore them, though his teeth chattered with fear as he muttered the spells. “Monsters coming out of solid rock! What will be next? Brandobaris preserve me!”
    That had been their only encounter so far. The tunnel had only branched once, and the drag marks made it clear which passage they should follow. With one of Welby’s spells enabling him to see in total darkness, Reswald was scouting ahead of the group, when he heard a low chanting and saw that ahead the narrow tunnel opened into a huge cavern. Moving stealthily, he crept up to the opening and looked out upon an amazing scene.
    A huge cavern stretched up and away into the darkness, beyond the limits of even his magically enhanced vision. Dozens of small, round mud huts littered the cavern floor, surrounding a giant stalagmite, the top of which must have been sheered off long ago. Upon that severed off top, sat a large bowl-shaped construction, formed of mud and wattle like the huts. Around the based of the stalagmite pillar, chanting in a slow, rhythmic sing-song, scores of the albino jermlaine marched, apparently conducting some sort of ritual. Suddenly, Reswald’s heart leaped in his chest, for upon the sides of the stalagmite, just below the bowl, there were several ledges. Upon those ledges he could just make out several human sized forms, apparently tied upright. As he watched, he thought he saw at least one move. Someone was still alive, The Summoner be praised! Now how to get six captives, some of them probably injured, down from that pillar and away from a couple of hundred jermlaine? “Trithereon, aid your faithful Hound,” he prayed.

    “…so that’s what we face.” Reswald finished describing the problem to his companions a hundred feet or so back up the tunnel. “We should all be able to make it to the tunnel mouth unseen, as they all appear to be totally focused on the ritual. But we need to come up with a good plan and quick. Even vermin like these could overwhelm us with sheer numbers if we just charged in.”
    They were all silent in thought for a moment, until Welby spoke up. “I think this is the place for Mysta and I to take center stage. How’s about this: We will make ourselves invisible. I will cast a spell to grow wings and she will levitate; I will then tow her to the pillar. We’ll cut the captives free, heal them if necessary, and bring ropes for them to use to climb down. When we have them ready, I will create the illusion of two walls of fire, making a corridor from the pillar to the tunnel. That should hold off most of the jermlaine. Orin, Reswald, and Theopolis will attack any jermlaine between the walls and plow the road for the Denwiths and us. We’ll climb down between the walls of fire and flee back into the tunnel. Even if the little buggers follow us, they can’t swarm us in this narrow tunnel.”
    “An excellent idea, Welby,” Mysta exclaimed. “Smart as well as handsome! I’m very glad to have met you, honey buns.” She emphasized her point by patting Welby’s rear end. It was all the rest of the party could do to keep from howling with laughter at Welby’s obvious embarrassment.
    “Then it’s agreed? We’ll go with Welby’s plan,” asked Theopolis. Nods all around. “Very well. And may Lendor and all the gods defend us!”

    ****

    Aldon Denwith was in a bad way. After his forge collapsed around him, everything was black until the pain had driven him back to consciousness. His left hand and forearm were in excruciating pain, like they were bathed in fire. “Must’ve been burned somehow when the forge collapsed,” he thought. Bad as that was, it wasn’t the worst of it. He was tied up in total blackness and had no idea where he was. He could hear a rhythmic murmuring that he couldn’t identify, as well as a moaning that sounded like his eldest boy, Brennon, and quiet sobbing that sounded like one of his daughters. The helplessness of it tore at him. A Yeoman should be able to defend his family, not stand trussed up in the dark like a lamb awaiting slaughter.
    Suddenly, he felt a rush of air near his face, as if a great bird went by. Then a quiet voice with a foreign accent said, “Aldon Denwith, I’m Mysta Gonagin, a friend of Orin’s and I’m here to help you! Make no sound as I cut you loose.” A sharp blade sliced through his bonds and he collapsed onto his knees. He felt a small set of hands brace him up, though he still could see nothing. “May the Seven bless you for that,” he managed to gasp out.
    “Can you climb down a rope?”

    “I don’t think so. My left hand…”

    “Let me see it.” The stranger swore under her breath. “Aldon, your hand is very badly burned. It looks like molten iron was poured across it. You’ll never climb a rope with it as it is.”

    “Never mind me. Just save my family.”

    “No, you needn’t sacrifice yourself. I have a strong healing potion, but when you take it, it will cause tremendous pain as it tries to heal such a grievous wound. If any of us are to survive, you must not cry out. Are you ready?”

    “Yes. Let me have it.” Aldon felt a flask at his lips, and he swallowed down the medicinal tasting potion. He felt it coursing through him, then the pain hit. If before it had felt like his hand was on fire, now it felt as though it was being devoured by the smallest ants imaginable. His vision went a blinding white for a few seconds and he bit threw his lip to keep from screaming against the agony. Then the pain faded, and in its aftermath, he found he could actually use his left hand. It was still very painful, but it was functional. “It’s done,” he whispered.

    “Well done. You are a strong and brave man, Aldon Denwith.”

    “What of my family?”

    “My companion, Welby, is with them. You were the last to be freed. Take my hand and I will guide you to them. Then we will light up this dark hole and kill any of these vermin who try to bar our path to daylight! Your future sons-in-law wait below with swords to plow our road out of this wretched hole.”

    ****

    Reswald stood at the tunnel mouth, with Theopolis and Orin at his side. Lacking his magical vision, they had to trust him to keep watch until Welby began his light show. Bow in hand, Reswald waited for any indication that the jermlaine had noticed what was going on above their heads. While the halflings were invisible even to his darkvision, he could see the captive family slowly being freed and gathering on the lowest ledge. Surely the jermlaine must notice them at some point? He tried to spot a chieftain or a leader or a shaman in that swirling mass of albino flesh. He wanted his first shot to count, as he would probably not get to use the bow much after that. Come on, Welby, come on!
    Suddenly, the chanting stopped. The family members must have dislodged a rock; the loud noise of its fall disturbed the jermlaine. One of the creatures pointed up toward the ledge where all the family were gathered and gibbered something. He died instantly, with Reswald’s arrow through his throat.
    Then the darkness of the cavern was banished by a tremendous flash of light, all the brighter for being in the eternal blackness of the Underdark. Two huge walls of flames, each fifty feet long, sprang up to border a ten-foot wide corridor from the base of the stalagmite to the tunnel. Even though he knew them to be one of Welby’s illusions, Reswald found himself taking an involuntary step back. The effect of the walls was very real, even to the heat radiating from them.
    The sudden appearance of the walls of flame seemed to panic the jermlaine. Now in the more normal light, Reswald could see that their eyes were totally white and blind. How long had they dwelt in total darkness to lose all sight? Attacked in their lair and confronted by forces they did not understand, they fled the flames to the walls on each side of the chamber.
    “They’re fleeing!” cried Reswald. “Welby, get the Denwiths down the ropes and let’s get out of here before they regain their nerve.” He ran forward toward the stalagmite to help hold the ropes.

    Just at that moment, everything changed. The air was filled with an incredibly high-pitched noise, a noise that seemed to pulse with a complex rhythm, a rhythm not unlike that of the jermlaine chants. From the huge bowl at the top of the stalagmite, a great, winged shape took flight. Reswald’s first thought upon seeing it was: “It is a dragon. We are all dead.” His second thought was: “It is not a dragon. It has no eyes and a great horn projecting from its forehead. We are still all dead.” His final thought was: “Perhaps we can distract it so that some of the Denwiths might escape.” With that, he yelled up at the group on the ledge, “Get down now! Run for the tunnel.” An arrow sprang from his bow to strike the creature in a wing.
    Up on the ledge, Welby Dardragon was also not ready to give up without a fight. From his outstretched finger a bright red pea flew out to strike the creature and blossomed into a huge ball of fire. The fire surrounded the creature for a moment, but then it emerged, swooping down upon him like an avenging demon. From the horn upon its head came a tremendously powerful burst of focused sound, a sonic lance, which struck him squarely and slammed him down on to the ledge. Nose and ears bleeding, bruised and battered, Welby struggled to rise.
    While the one-sided battle between the halfling wizard and the monster was taking place, Auldon was struggling to move his family down the ropes. Fortunately, the ground was only about forty feet below and rope-burned palms seemed a small price to pay to escape hell. Seeing them well underway, Mysta tried to attract the beast’s attention away from them and the wounded Welby by screaming at it. “Hey, you big ugly bastard! I’ve got something for you!” Magic Missiles leapt from her hands to strike it unerringly. Reswald fired another arrow, which glanced off its thick hide, while Theopolis and Orin, lacking missile weapons, rushed forward to aid the Denwiths.
    Mysta’s plan succeeded too well. The great lizard swooped down upon her; with nowhere to go upon the narrow ledge, she could not avoid it. One of its wing claws struck her and snatched her up off the ledge. Zooming up the lizard flew almost to the roof of the cavern, before releasing her. Down she fell, plummeting like a stone, heading for death on the floor below. Then, rushing up at her, she saw one of the ledges of the stalagmite. With a lithe twist, she managed to land upon it, though the force of the fall left her as bruised and battered as Welby.
    By this time Welby had staggered to his feet, and shouting “Yondalla take you, lizard!” shot a lightening bolt from his outstretched hand into the beast. Then he rushed to Mysta, took her in his arms and began to fly them both down to the tunnel mouth.
    The Denwiths had reached the ground at last. Aldon’s wife Nadia was holding a large lump on her head but was still game; she fired a spell of her own at the creature before running toward the entrance. Her two sons, Brennon and Danon, came next, Brennon hobbling on a bad ankle but making good speed leaning on his younger brother. Next came Iylthia and just behind her, Reswald saw the face he had feared he would never see again outside his dreams, his beloved Kelthia. Their eyes met for only a moment but what passed between them in that instant would last them the rest of their lives. “Go! Run for the tunnel!” he cried, and as her father came up behind her, Kelthia ran on. “Now if I can only buy them a little more time,” thought Reswald.
    Looking up he saw the beast diving back from the roof of the cavern. Welby’s bolt did not seem to have hurt it much, and Reswald could hear is high-pitched squeaking as it searched for a new target. Well, if it wanted a target, he would give it one. “Hear I am, you big lizard! Bring it on!” His arrow sank to the feathers in its soft underbelly. The lizard screeched, turned and dove at its tormentor, firing its sonic lance.
    Reswald’s body felt as if it was being hit by a giant’s hammer; his bones and organs felt as though he was being pulled apart. He staggered and dropped to one knee, blood gushing from ruptured vessels in his ears and nose. Suddenly he felt two strong hands under his arms. Theopolis!
    “I’ve got him!” cried the paladin of Lendor. “Cover us as we fall back!” Dazed, Reswald saw Orin standing between them and the circling creature, casting a spell. There was a burst of noise overhead and a loud cry from the thing. “Ha! Sound Burst!” laughed Theopolis. “I’ll bet it didn’t like that! Come on, Reswald, can’t you run any faster than this?”
    Coming out of his daze, Reswald picked up the pace, reaching the tunnel mouth and turning in time to see the creature again stoop upon Orin and try to snatch him up. Though the tactic had worked against a female halfling, the warrior priest of Azor’alq was a different story. Struck by the claw, he fought off its attempt to grab him and retreated to the tunnel as the creature flew up to make another pass. “Everyone up the tunnel. Run!” he cried.
    As the lizard circled back to the tunnel mouth, frantic to catch its escaping prey, Reswald, drew and arrow to his ear, screamed “Here’s something to remember us by,” fired and fled up the tunnel. He never saw where his shaft hit, but it must have stung the thing, as the sonic lance exploded into the tunnel entrance behind him, blasting it into rubble and sending chunks of rock shrapnel shooting up the tunnel behind and among the escapees.


    A Long Delayed Wedding


    “Will this long-winded priest never finish?” That was the thought that kept running through Reswald’s head as he stood straight and tall in his dress uniform with Kelthia upon his arm before the priest of Allitur. Next to them, also standing ramrod-straight was Orin with Iylthia at his side. They were all in the main room of the Gentleman’s Ease, the tavern in Loftwick that Aldon Denwith had rented for the day as the venue for his daughters’ wedding. Since Nadia’s uncle owned it, the rate was very reasonable.
    Behind the two couples stood the rest of the Denwith family, somewhat the worse for wear, but all smiles. Aldon’s left arm was still in a sling, but thanks to much magical healing, he would regain full use of it. Brennon was still on crutches from his broken ankle, but that too would heal. Reswald was no vision of loveliness himself; that sonic lance had left him with two black eyes, and his hearing had required magical ministrations before it returned to normal. Even now, his bones ached. Still, they were all alive; everything else was minor compared to that.
    “So by the power invested in me by the Church of the Seven Faiths, I now pronounce you men and wives. You may kiss the brides, gentlemen!” Finally! Reswald turned to Kelthia and lifted back her veil. He looked into the same eyes he had seen a week before in the depths of the Oerth and knew he had found his soul mate at last.

    ****

    Later, the party was in full swing. The numerous Dewith relations and the grooms’ friends were celebrating as only those who have survived a harrowing ordeal can. Brennon Denwith was regaling his younger cousins with the tale of how he had killed the jermlaine with a wood axe while he was trapped in the wreckage of the barn. Nadia was explaining to her elderly uncle, the tavern’s owner, that the scholars at the University had identified the winged lizard as an ythrak, something heretofore unknown in the Yeomanry. Welby, two black eyes and all, was dancing an energetic halfling dance with Mysta, while Maynard was sitting quietly drunk in a corner. Theopolis was telling young Danon about the joys and sorrows of paladinhood, while Orin danced with new sister-in-law, Kelthia. After finishing his dance with Iylthia, Reswald went looking for Aldon. He found him standing outside where it was cooler, looking at Luna and Celene rising over the hills.

    “Hello, father. It still seems strange to say that.”

    “Greetings, son. It may sound strange, but you’ve certainly earned the right and I’m happy to hear it.”

    “I was wondering what your plans for the future were?”

    “I was just standing here thinking about that myself. I’ve got no farm left, and a wife and two sons to support. I suppose that I’ll try to find a job as a hired hand on one of Nadia’s or my relative’s places around here. Don’t know anything but farming and I’m too old to apprentice to a new trade.”

    Reswald was silent for a few moments, then said, “I wanted to speak to you about the bride-price…”

    Aldon interrupted him. “You paid more bride-price than anyone could ever ask when you went down into the Oerth after us and brought me and my family out alive. I’ll hear no talk of further payment!”

    Reswald smiled and answered, “Thank you, Aldon. However, I still have a problem about the bride price. You see, I now have these on my hands.” Taking a pouch from his belt, he poured a cascade of sparkling gems into his palm. “Worth 3000 gold, at least. With no bride price to pay, I find I need investment advice. I was thinking of purchasing a tavern, perhaps even this one. I understand Nadia’s uncle is old and wishes to retire. Of course, I couldn’t stay here to run it, at least not right now. So I’d need someone I could trust to take care of the place. Someone in the family. Do you know anyone who might be interested, father?”

    ****

    Very much later, the wedding party came to an end, as all such parties must. Orin and Iylthia retired to their room, and Reswald and Kelthia to theirs. As he threw the bolt on the sturdy door, Reswald muttered, “Now that was one long day.” Turning away from the door, he found his new bride standing right before him. Reaching out, she seized his head in both hands and drew his face down to hers for a long, passionate kiss.
    Then Kelthia spoke: “I always knew this day would come. From the first time I saw you walk through the door of our home, I knew you would be my husband. Even when I was most afraid during the quake and later, I knew in my heart that it would be all right, because I knew this moment had to come. Nothing could stop a love like ours, beloved husband. Nothing.”
    Reswald smiled at her. “I wish I had had your confidence. I was never sure of anything, except that I would find you or die trying. But then again, I’m not a witch like you, so I can’t see the future.”
    “ A witch is it you call me? In that case, come over here and let me show you some more of my mystic powers. I guarantee you’ll beg for mercy before this night is finished, husband mine!”

    The End

    Cast of Characters:

    Reswald Bill Howell
    Theopolis Jason Milks
    Welby Dardragon II Ralph Evans
    Orin the Elder Rob Little
    Mysta Gonagin Susan Threadgill
    Everybody else (including the monsters) August Hahn


    Note: Yeomanry, Living Greyhawk, marriage"
     
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    Re: Fallen Angels - The Story of a 592 CY LG Adventure in the Yeomanry (Score: 1)
    by Mystic-Scholar on Sun, October 04, 2009
    (User Info | Send a Message) http://mysticscholar.blogspot.com/
    Sounds like it was a good game. For a story it was a little fast paced. A little more time could have been spent telling it to us. You could have written more.




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