Craning their necks to sense any danger before it surprised them, the party urged their mounts through the trees as quickly as they could.  Fear drove them, and their horses sensed it.  Ducking under low hanging branches, and riding around fallen tree trunks, the last bit of their journey seemed to take longer than the previous 4 days together.

   A collective sigh of relief was felt as they broke out of the woods and into the sunlight.  The grass was high, coming up to the knees of their horses, and intermingled among the strands of green were wild flowers of various colours and shapes.   The wizard's tower, according to the enchantments laid upon Aeron, was immediately before them.

   It was a squat gray stone tower, round and attached to a second building, square and also stone.  Atop a small knoll, there was a rough dirt path that lead up behind the tower and presumeably to the adjacent stone building.  Normally in such an idyllic setting the sounds of larks and other birds would be heard but there was nothing but the breeze in the leaves behind them and the horses to lend sound to the scene...

Riding up to the base of the tower, his green and white penant flapping in the breeze, shield held proudly bearing his heraldic device, Pedivere removed his helm and cradled it in his lap.  In a loud, booming voice he called out to the Tower.

"I am Pedivere, Knight of England on business of the King.  I seek one named Fiallan and would request his consultation on a matter most urgent."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:41, Mon 08 Nov 2004.

Colm lowers his bow, not wanting to appear threating, as they approach the tower.  He removes his arrow from the bow, but keeps the bow in hand.

   The pennant atop the knight's lance fluttered softly in the breeze.  His  voice reverberated off the tower's stone exterior and off the mountain-sides.  The party paused, waiting for a reply.  Only the jingle of the horse's harnesses and the intermittent stomp of a hoof was heard as no reply came...

Pedivere swung his armoured form from the steed, dropping to the grown with a metallic thud.  Patting the metal clad horse on the head he whispered to the horse, instructing the trained steed to wait and not move.  Straightening, the knight moved to the door and smote upon it with his gauntlet encased fist before calling out again.

"I seek Fiallan, wizard and reputed owner of this tower.  I am Pedivere, Knight of the Realm, on business of King Arthur from Camelot.  Will Fiallan come forward?"

The knight goes to the door of the adjoining building and strikes it with the base of his fist as he calls out, the heavy wooden door swings inward with a long creak.  The inside is dark and no one could be heard stirring in response to the knight's call...

Calis watched his friend and kept his hand near his weapons. With another swallow he watched the door open into darkness and looked over at his companions before letting his gaze linger on Pedivere.

Pedivere turns from the entrance to the building and moves back towards the assembled group.  "There may be a problem.  Aeron, did the information that Jeremiah imparted you with tell of anything other than the location of the wizard?"

Aeron shakes his head, Nay, nothing of where the super weaver of the arcane lives or lays, just where this place is.  With all the, um uncomfotable sense of this place, maybe he has come to harm?  Let's see if I can shed something that might help....

Much to the chagrin of the sensible ones the fool urges his mount up the path stopping her about 10 feet from the gaping black doorway.  He dismounts and says, I am sure that if anyone is home I can get a rise from them.

He takes off his cockcomb waggles his eyebrows.  Seems to think of something appropiate.  Shoves his hand deep in the hat and seems to throw something from within into the doorway, at the same time he yells out, Presto!

   The trio of men mill about the door's opening, listening and waiting for the knight's challenge to be answered.  No reply comes.

   The room itself is rather unremarkable.  A writing desk with a few papers strewn about it and on the dusty, stone, floor. There is a broken bench closer to the open door, a pair of windows on the north and west walls provide some light through the thick walls.  A group of barrels and boxes are stacked in the west corner and a chest lies against the south wall.   There is a fireplace, unlit, lodged in the east wall, next to a heavy banded steel door almost immediately next to the doorway into which Sir Pedivere, and then Aeron stand.

    The jester expresses he knows no more about the mage Fillian or his tower and decides to attempt some magic to help the situation.  Thrusting his hand into his belled-cockscomb, he withdraws his hand and points crying  "Presto!"

    Instantly something begins to happen.  A mist begins to emit from the interior of the hat.  It grows bigger and bigger, slowly filling the room with a cool, dense, grey, fog.

   The inside of the room is longer visible beyond two arms lengths.  Some of the fog spills out among the men, swirling about their feet and slowly rising about their waists, the breeze making it whisp and flutter, taking nips and bites out of its form.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:59, Tue 09 Nov 2004.