Even in the growing dark, Helix is visible to the adventurers from a fair distance. The light from the small community is, on this evening, unusually bright.

As they draw nearer, the reason becomes clear. The village square, normally home to the daytime market, has been encircled with staked torches. Most of the area is occupied by armored soldiers, who have erected several tents within the area. Even from a distance, it is plain that these are the Duchy’s guard, under the command of Kell Ironguard.

Upon reaching the village’s outskirts, the explorers can see that all of the staff from The Brazen Strumpet are circulating among the soldiers, providing them with food and drink. Several within the tents are wounded, a few grievously so, and are receiving the ministrations from acolytes of St. Ygg, most of whom, save Cella, the adventurers do not recognize. Norbert, the potion vendor, is present as well, providing healing tinctures. At the western end of the square, a pair of carts hold the corpses of numerous lizardmen.

Most all of Helix’s buildings have light shining in the windows and many villagers are coming and going from the area, bringing items to the guard. Several of the adventurers spy Billworth Turgen delivering an armful of herbs and bandages to the tent with the wounded. Near the Shrine of St. Ygg, three immediately recognizable figures are gathered in quiet conversation: Brother Othar, Mazzahs, and Kell Ironguard. The Duke’s dark expression is filled with conflicted emotion, an apparent mingling of concern, grief, and rage.

On the way back to the borderlands village, Barnabus's mood turns as dark as the darkening sky. The adrenalin having long since faded, he now feels the rent in his side from the skeleton's halberd and the punctures from the cloaker's fangs keenly, the one wound throbbing in rhythm to his step and the other hissing with its own sharp pain according to its own schedule. But another wound burns him far more than the other two, one beyond his power to heal.

                                                             ~~~

With his gray eyes glowing nearly as brightly as the sapphires in a pewter box, Barnabus moves to join the three bigwigs near Helix's one shrine. Looking at the bucketloads of lizard man corpses and the wizard of the tower, he offers a wry comment, most likely not in keeping with the general mood: "They're not very bright, are they?"

The Duke fixes Barnabus with a scowl. ”Their leader seemed so. We were having a fruitful dialogue, he and I. He was beginning to understand that the settlements posed no danger to him or his people. That the true danger to all of us are the ancient evils that haunt the moor.”

“But our conversation was cut short. Our chance at finding common ground lost.”

"Lost? Did the Barrowmaze have its say during the parley?"

"Lord Viscount," the Knight nodded a grim greeting. "Sorry to hear a breakdown occured. How badly did it go, if I may ask? Unfortunately we also suffered loss to our company. Bad enough for lives to be snuffed trying to oust the evil of this region without a war breaking out topside. Is there anything we can assist you with?"

Ironguard shakes his head in response to Barnabus’ question. ”No. My son did.”

”I am sorry for your loss,” he tells Sir Dryvyk, nodding solemnly to the other adventurers. ”You risk much to learn the truth of that terrible place. Your fallen companions will be memorialized with honor.”

Othar and Mazzahs, both able to see that Dilemma and Lampert are absent, nod in quiet agreement.

The Duke sighs. ”I could not know how the negotiations with the lizard people might unfold. I strive to rule justly, but my first vocation was that of a soldier. One must always be ready when war is imminent.”

“We met the King of the lizard folk, Thrathisk, south of Bogtown. As he had promised the village, he came in force with many warriors. The beginnings of the Wyrdwood lie not far from there. The lizard folk never enter it, so I sent Krothos and a group of able cavalry there to remain in hiding. If hostilities began, I hoped that the riders would be able to charge the enemy’s flank.”

“Thrathisk heeded me, however. He knows well some of the terrible things that dwell in the Barrowmaze. His people have contended with the depredations of the undead. He understood when I shared the tale of the golem. Like myself, he wished to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“But not Krothos. I had explicitly instructed him not to attack unless I gave him a signal. One that was specific, unmistakable. But Thrathisk‘s force, when they heard our talk, understood that I sought peace. And many of his warriors began to relax their guard.”

The Duke’s jaw clenches briefly. ”Krothos saw this vulnerability and chose to exploit it. He ordered the charge without my signal.”

“Thrathisk certainly believes that I sought to deceive him. The fighting was bitter, but the lizard folk were taken by surprise and outmatched. We drove them from the field. The King was wounded.”

His gaze goes to the south. ”Lady Sidonie, one of my finest knights, leads the freshest of my forces. They have garrisoned Bogtown, but will patrol southwest into the marsh within the next two days. and will strike the lizard folk if they find them. Once the rest of my soldiers have recovered, we will rejoin them. My only hope now is to force the lizard folk into a quick surrender.”

He returns his attention to Sir Dryvyk. ”I would ask for your prayers, Sir Knight. All of yours,” he tells the adventurers, ”That I would have the insight to bring this conflict to a swift end with few lives lost, on both sides. And that I will know how best to address my son’s foolishness…and treachery.”

AS the group gets closer to Helix Dax becomes more quiet as he loses himself in his thoughts. He is shaken from this introspection, at least nominally, when he catches sight of the commotion in the village.

Moving through the throng in the marketplace, he remarks quietly to Malivoire, "It looks like our failure with the golem has cost even more lives."

Dax follows Dryvyk and Barnabus to confer with the village leaders. He shakes his head slightly at Ironguard's description of the battle that should not have been. But, he says nothing.

Abruptly, he leaves the group, and speaks to Bollo who is carrying a tray of food. "Bollo, where does...did Lampert live? I need to speak to his family."

Barnabus looks squarely upon the distraught duke.

"I do not have the liberty to earn your trust and ear over a generous stretch of days, duke. Dread lords of not so dead gods of the dead do their dread deeds upon and below the moors."

His voice drops such that it might only be perceptible to the noble.

"The 'foolishness' did not belong to the son. The son can only lay claim to the 'treachery.' To not recognize that would mean more of both."

At that, the priest of Impurax addresses the wizard of the tower, "There is no time to spare; we must speak."

Forgotten by him is their contribution to the heaps of the dead within Helix.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:51, Sat 19 Aug 2023.

Malivoire grew tense as they approached the village from the darkness of the moor, for he could see the Duke's forces encamped within Helix.  As they drew closer it was clear there were many wounded and suddenly Malivoire feared an attack had occurred on the village.  He could see various townsfolk interspersed with the armoured soldiers and his eyes immediately began a desperate search for any sign of Taycee's fiery tresses.  After several harrowing moments he finally caught sight of her, carrying a basket full of cloths toward one of the tents accommodating the wounded.  Tension streaming away from his face and shoulders, he turned his attention back to the broader situation.

"I would not be surprised," Malivoire answered Dax darkly, fearing the worst.  Their meddling in the catacombs had left none unscathed it seemed, so why would this event be any different?  He was due for a surprise though, when he heard the Duke's recounting of events.  Guilty for the relief he felt, the mage nonetheless blamed this latest loss squarely on the Duke's son.  This was not their doing, not this time.

But that didn't mean they couldn't help with the solution.  "Your Grace, if I might?" he asked when a break in the conversation arose.  "I am Malivoire, of the Wyrdwood elves.  King Thrathisk has always treated honourably with the Wyrdwood, and I know he is no friend of the undead evils from the moor.  Rather than carry the war to him until he surrenders, might there still be a chance for a negotiated settlement?  A peace offering, one with weight enough to make amends for the rash decision at the last meeting?  I think it worth a try, if only to save both peoples' strength for the real enemy."  Malivoire glanced out at the night-shrouded moor to punctuate his words.

"If a neutral intermediary would be helpful, I am at your service."

"There might only be one 'offering' with enough 'weight' to restore the trust that was betrayed," Barnabus puts in ominously.

Bollo looks to Dax only briefly, before an expression of sorrowful understanding crosses his face. ”Lampert and his brother were orphaned at a young age. They were raised by a woman who lives in Ironguard Motte A glassmaker. Her name is Salwa, I believe.”

“His brother is a caravan driver. Jesper is his name. I’m not certain if he is here. You might inquire about him at the Silver Standard Caravan Company. They should know his whereabouts.”

The innkeeper gives Dax a nod. ”Lampert was a good lad. Brave. Honest.”

The Duke listens to Barnabus’ initial words to him, but says nothing. When Malivoire voices his suggestion, Ironguard nods slowly, silently considering the mage’s words.

”Your suggestion is a wise one, Malivoire,” he says, ”I sent one of my best scouts into the Wyrdwood when we departed Bogtown after the battle. She bore a message, asking that they send an envoy here to Helix. I sought their counsel on my next course of action. Perhaps your people could help bring an end to this. If they are agreeable to such a role, I would like you to be part of the party who approaches Thrathisk with a proposal for peace.”

His gaze shifts to Barnabus. ” I can only presume you mean myself, yes? I believe we are both aware that a commander is wholly responsible for the actions of his soldiers. It was my decision to entrust Krothos with those riders, my judgment that concluded that he was worthy of the task. The lizard folk are correct to look to me for blame in this tragedy.”

He glances at Othar. ”Even so, justice does not always demand bloodshed. There has already been enough.”

“Would the church be willing to assist in such a peace negotiation?”

”Certainly. We are glad to serve,” Othar says.

”You have my thanks, Brother Othar,” Ironguard replies, ”In a moment, might I speak with you, and you, Sir Dryvyk, privately?”

“I expect our guests from the Wyrdwood at dawn. May I call upon you at that time, Malivoire?”

Finally, he glances at Mazzahs before returning his attention to Barnabus. ”And you are…?”

Sir Dryvyk's face had gone ashen as the tragedy of the parley was related to them by the Lord Viscount... but it quickly reddened as Krothos was revealed as the cause of such bloodshed. The Knight's jaws worked as he ground his teeth not to speak his mind, his fists tightly clenched to keep them from reaching to his sword hilt.

With tremendous effort he replied in as neutral voice as he could manage, "As it pleases you, I am at your disposal. The evils festering in the Moors vie among themselves, but we see the influence compels us above ground to do the same. I have utmost confidence in Malivore as liaison in your discussions.

"Barnabus, Curate of Impurax -- although I sense a change coming on, a greater connection to my god."


"No, that would be more foolishness. The justice of lizards might not be that of men. A little (or some) blood might not go amiss."

He sighs and the crispness with which he had been speaking turns flat.

"Your son has not pledged to his loyalty to you. He has pledged it to himself. If he feels himself to be endangered, he will fly at the first chance of freedom into the waiting arms of one dread lord or another -- with his riders at his side."

"That is my fear."

With no joy, he finishes speaking.

Dax's eyes look to the ground, but he nods, "Braver than you can imagine Bollo. He deserved better.

Thanks. Salwa in Ironguard Motte and Jesper with the Silver Standard Caravan Company."

The ranger walks back to the where the group is still talking to the Lord Viscount. But he barely pays attention to what is being said.

Sir Dryvyk excused himself momentarily to speak with Dax apart from the others upon seeing his morose return.

"Have you inquired about Lampert?" The Knight had intuited as much. "I know it doesn't help a lot, but I've a bit of coin I dedicate for offering as part of my vows. You're welcome to it for whatever you might think appropriate."

The normally stoic Lord Viscount starts at the mention of the god Barnabus serves. He regards the cleric with a frown.

”Your god’s long vacant temple north of the village glowed with a terrible, unnatural light yesterday,” he says evenly, ”It could be seen clearly here within the settlement and caused many considerable fear. Did it have something to do with this growing bond you refer to?”

”I do not believe, Duke Ironguard, that Barnabus was directly connected to that event, and I suspect that he was not aware of it,” Mazzahs interjects, ”He has been entirely diligent in his opposition to the undead within the barrows.”

Brother Othar nods in agreement with the wizard’s words.

Ironguard considers the offered counsel silently. ”You need not concern yourself with my son escaping justice, Curate. He is in irons, under guard, awaiting a final decision regarding his fate. Not solely for his conduct on the field.  I have learned much of his poor custodianship of Helix since returning here.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, he says, ”Brother Othar. Sir Dryvyk. If we might speak within the shrine?”

He moves to enter the church, Othar following.

”I will send word to the school in Monlist regarding Dilemma. It may be that some there knew her and might also be aware of any family she had,” Mazzahs says.

”I will be in the spire. I have some scrolls lent to me by an Arch Druid, one who has long dwelt in the undisturbed forests to the west. I believe they will enable me to fully translate the Briar Queen’s tablet.”

“Come speak to me there when your other business is complete, so we may discuss these matters of import from the catacombs.”

He disappears from sight in a shimmer of blue illumination.

From the eastern side of Helix, there is a sudden, jaw rattling detonation, a cloud of dirt and smoke billowing into the air. None of the assembled soldiers and villagers respond with panic, though some mutter complaints about the noise before returning to their individual tasks.

Safherd and Windroot have sought out Cella among the soldiers’ tents and are speaking with her quietly, likely making arrangements for the fallen brought back from the Barrowmaze.