Brugar is delighted to have his gear back and wastes no time in donning his armour and settling weapons back in their accustomed places.

Only then does he look at his friends and ask, "Erm, what do we be doing next? We thought we were on the right track to find the so-called 'tower unsurpassed' where Math Mathonwy 'as 'idden 'is ward, but that ain't worked out as we 'oped, 'as it?"

He picks up the bat-winged black iron greatsword and taps the blade gently with his own enchanted dwarven war axe to make the blade ring with the clash of steel.

"Per'aps this be Morrigan's sword instead?" he laughs.

Yetta gladly recovers her own gear as well, taking a little time getting things sorted and set, finally putting on her hat and, with a soft sigh, settling back into the image she has grown more accustomed to seeing reflected back at her.

"I don't know.  Do you suppose a tower can go down?" she muses.  "I guess that's not very likely.  Vaden said the dark elves will be along at some point - we could pretend to be survivors and maybe they'd take us somewhere useful?" she suggests.

She does look interested, of course, as Ayas points out the things he's taken note of, seeming most curious about the various beads and the cloak, though the trumpet draws a more incredulous, "Who enchants a trumpet?  A lyre I can see, but... well, anyway, I can help figure out what they all are when we have time, but I don't think we want to sit here that long, whatever we're doing next."

"Oh!  Hey, speaking of time, things have been a little hectic.  Varl, Ayas, thank you both.  I'm Yetta.  It's nice to properly meet you both."  She offers the two a smile.

The young mage smiles almost shyly as Yetta formally introduces herself.

"Ayas," he offers in return. "Ayas Rocan, though my family name means little now - I've been.. away from my family for many long years."

"It will take time to see what magic lies within these objects," he agrees, "and this is not the place."

The discussion betwixt the young woman and the dwarf gives him pause, however.

"A tower? It was a tower that proved my undoing, and caused the death of my friend." Had so little time passed since Sully was slain?

"We were sent to offer what help we could to the Walkers, offer them refuge in Varna'yaluumea."

"But at Faugond we found only dust and ruin. We were chasing after ghosts," the elf shakes his head sadly, "yet when we returned to the surface.."

He pauses.  "I know magic, I know it in my bones. It is part of me. Yet even so I could scarce believe what I saw - a piece of the mountain flying slowly overhead, and atop that rock their stood a tower."

"And as it passed above we found ourselves pursued by dark elves.  My friend.. Suladriel.. sacrificed himself to save me, but his death only delayed the inevitable and I was caught and taken to Habmor'Anto.  I know not why they did not kill me too."

He breaks off.  The memory of his fallen friend still grieves the elf deeply.

Once Hamin has collected his equipment and dressed himself properly again, his lips curve into a thin smile.  He shrugs his armour properly into place then, finding a bit of space, twirls his pole arm a couple of times before nodding solemnly.

However, he had also been listening to Ayas as he spoke.  "That sounds like the sort of tower we are interested in.  Will you take us there?  But then, who sent you out?  And where is  Varna'yaluumea?  And how were you supposed to recognize the walkers?"

Then he turns to Varl, "You have probably realized that we aren't just going to leave quietly and someone, somewhere is going to get very hurt, very soon..." he grins thinly again "... Your best bet might be to stick with us until you can see a good opportunity to make a break for it.  But  make your break as soon as you safely can."

Ayas nods his head.  "We are probably around forty miles south of Faugond. It is the site of an old dwarf mine, but long since abandoned. There are dark elves in those hills, however, so we must take care."

"The flying crag on which the tower sits is ever moving.. but Sully believed that they must resupply it from somewhere thereabouts, so we have but to sit and wait.. and avoid capture if we can."

"The old man sent us.. Ilthuryn Vallen. He said that the seven stars that burned bright in the sky were a sign.  But we had to wait for the cold to come, to freeze the inland sea that we might cross over."

"It is around five hundred miles from there to here."

"Ilthuryn could only tell us that the walkers slept in the halls beneath Faugond.  Only their names survive now - the twins Farissa and Ryasta, Daughter and Demon-slayer; Vena the Drummer; Bruga and Callan, warriors bold, Bearers of Axe and Sword; and Lyshan the Quick."

"Bruga.. Brugar.." the young man looks to the dwarf in some puzzlement and trepidation. "Perhaps not a coincidence?"

Varl looks uncomfortable as he digests Hamin's words, trying to decide if they're a warning or a threat, but deciding on the former.

Nor does Ayas's talk of flying towers ease his mind.

"I know nothing of such things," he admits, casting a gaze that is avaricious, not proprietory over the contents of the vault, there being nothing there that he may lay claim to as his own.

"I did what I must to get by in this harsh world.  I've stolen and killed for coin.  The purposes you speak of are beyond such as me."

"Yet I threw in my lot with you and now I find myself free, so I count that as the best decision I ever made."

"Down there ... I was a dead man, either I'd have died in chains or when someone figured there was no reason for me to continue to draw breath, but now ..."

"To be blunt, I've nowhere to go.  Those I called friends would no doubt hand me over to the dark elves for the price of a cup of ale, so I've naught to lose by staying.  I fear I have no great destiny, but I'll do what I'll can and trust to the luck that caused our paths to cross to keep me alive a little longer."

Brugar grins at Ayas.

"Ah reckon ye be right, long-ears. No coincidence at all, an' no coincidence that ye bring the next piece of the puzzle we be tryin' to figure out. Never occurred to me that unsurpassed might mean it be lit'rally that far over our 'eads!"

He claps Varl on the back and says, "Well then, if'n ye be stayin' with us we better get ye kitted out in summat better'n them rags ye be wearin'. See what takes yer fancy in there. Ah'm not sayin' ye can can just 'elp yerself, mind, but show us what ye want an' we'll talk about it."

Then he turns to Hamin.

"Revenge be sweet an' all, but d'ye reckon there be much more 'ere to be gained from it? Ah reckon it be time to move on."

Unless there is some argument forthcoming Brugar will turn his attention to the other items in the vault to see if there is anything he fancies, as well.

"If this isn't the tower, then we don't need to be here." Hamin agrees with Brugar "But we thought the journey through the garden would bring us to the tower.  And we finished up here.  Instead it brought us to news of the tower, which is just as good.  True revenge comes when we defeat the dark gods and light rules the world again."

He also nods at the suggestion that Varl needs kitting out properly, and looks around the vault to see if there are any non-magical items that can be presses into service.

"Think I even noticed some clothes in decent shape," Yetta notes to Varl.  "Dusty, but it looks like even the moths stay away from this place.  But if you're planning to stay with us... we're not going anyplace safe.  That's just not what we do."

She smiles at Ayas.  "Flying tower sounds like just the thing.  I'm sorry about your friend, though."

The young adept's eyes widen at Brugar's admission and he nods slowly, with renewed respect.

"The rest of you then.. are you also named in the prophesy? You would be.. Lyshan?" he looks to Alasha'an with questioning brows, then at Hamin and Yetta thoughtfully, shaking his head as he fails to twist their names to fit.

Varl does not seem much comforted even by Brugar's ready acceptance as Hamin and Yetta speak of dangers to come, but manages a small smile in return.

Looking through the various items in the vault, he finds himself a couple of short swords, one of good quality, and a plain chainshirt, as well as a pair of boots, a sturdy pack and a leather case with picks and pries which is nothing special, looking towards the Dwarf with a questioning glance for permission before taking anything.

"The Quick," Alasha'an pouts pulling on her boots, now no sign of her wounds remaining. "Thought they could have done a lot better than that.. but yes, I'll own to it," she grins at Ayas, though the smile lasts but a moment.

"The rest of the Walkers are dead. Oh, maybe not Ryasta, though if I see her again I'll see to that myself." She'd not liked the demon who took Saffaris' likeness at the best of times, much less after she deserted them in battle.

The elf's smile returns as she jerks her thumb towards Hamin and Yetta. "Brugar and I came the long way round.. this pair took a short cut."

"That's better," boots on she stands again, stamping her feet till she's sure they're settled comfortably.

"Rope," she suggests, nodding to the equipment store. "Grab whatever you can. We're going to need it if we're going to catch us a mountain."

Brugar nods approval for Varl to take the items he has selected and turns his attention back to Ayas.

"Only their names survive, eh? Well, almost. Ah remember 'em as Saffaris, Venelia, Calanor and Alasha'an. Ryasta? Damn, even Ah've forgot the true sound of 'er name!"

That said, he checks his backpack to make sure his own 50ft rope and the enchanted 60ft rope of climbing are still there then goes back to searching for more in the storeroom, or anything else that looks valuable or useful.

"And, I suppose, we need to sort out this werewolf thing.  Didn't he say something about a day or two ..."

"Zhihariaster", Alasha'an reminds Brugar, almost absently. "The she-bitch demon who took Saffaris' likeness. Don't they say speaking a demon's name will summon it?"

The elf looks around hopefully, loosening her dark blade in its scabbard, just enough.

"Werewolf thing, yes.. lots and lots of rope," she instructs the dwarf, smiling sweetly at Hamin.

"Two," Yetta confirms.

Hamin looks at Alasha'an speculatively.  "So you guys tie me up, feed me garlic and thrown water at me?" he asks, clearly unsure of the process.

The elf snorts at Hamin's suggestion, though her expression quickly turns to one of sympathy, her eyes flicking to Yetta and then back to the one-eyed warrior.

"We'll do whatever we have to do, until we can find a priest willing to make trial of a cure," she ventures. "But we're not going to let a little thing like that stop us."

"I for one," she announces to the group at large, "have had more than enough of this prison, and am not minded to wait here to see who's coming to visit. What say we go looking for this flying tower and cause some trouble?"

Hamin shrugs "Lets.  Anyone know the way out?" he asks his companions - although he glances  at Varl as he asks.

"Aye, that be 'er name. No wonder Ah couldn' 'member it. Never rightly knew 'ow to pronouns it anyways," Brugar admits to Alasha'an.

The answer to Hamin's question seems a bit more straightforward.

"Faugond, 'e called it. Prob'ly 'ad some other name in our time. Forty mile north of 'ere, so we just gotta start walkin'. Stands to reason, that, us bein' the Walkers an' all."

He will make sure someone has gathered up the magic items that Ayas detected in the storeroom before they leave.

He will also make a point of showing Ayas his shield, which he calls Dweomerbane, and explains that it will absorb and neutralise any spell cast into, through or within 5 feet of it. "Just so as ye know about it an' don't waste yer spells 'round me, ye see?"

With Brugar's reminder about the items, Yetta nods and glances at Ayas.  "Split 'em up?" she suggests, "And figure it out when we know what they are?"  She takes up the three black beads, the cloak, and, still with a bit of a skeptical look, the trumpet.

"Can't say I'll miss this place."  She shrugs, ready to go.  As she starts walking, she looks at Brugar curiously.  "How do you know where we are now?" she asks.

Brugar grins at Yetta.

"Ayas just told us!"

Hamin will carry whatever of the magical items that are left over, when they set off to find the floating tower.

The elven mage nods at Yetta's suggestion, putting the heavy book and necklace into his pack, though he's happy enough to let Hamin take the greatsword and whatever portion of the coin that those with the brawn might not manage.

"Careful with that," he cautions the one-eyed warrior. "I believe it may have been Crane's blade."

Ayas listens carefully to Brugar's warning regarding his crystal covered shield and vows to keep his distance, though perhaps more from fear of straying close when the Dwarf is overcome with battlelust and is less careful about just who the edge might catch.

"Faugond?" he muses as the Dwarf remarks upon it. "The name means 'gaping rocks'."

The adventure continues in The Storming of Meneldorod ...