Fitting for a Fight

The newly met group sets off from the city of shadows across the clouds and they fly on until a single lonely mountain comes into view to the southwest. “What are we doing here?” asks Feathersong, but as our heroes round the mountain a small opening becomes apparent. Presumably a large forge by the amber light it casts outward.

“This is Drona’s forge. He is the best weaponsmith this side of the endless sea. He makes most of the non-magically acquired weapons for the casters.” explains Stonespirit

As they walk in they are brought to a standstill by dozens of dwarves scurrying to and fro with hammers, ores, and bars of various metals. Just before Nimean asks one for Drona, a surly old azer enters from a storeroom in the back.

“Heave to, you slaggards” he half wheezes half roars. “We’ve seventy more spike traps to ready before sundown!” Then he spots the small party standing awkwardly amidst the rabble. “What’re you lot doin’ in ma workers’ way!?”

Stonesipirit answers timidly “Reilan told us we could pick out weapons from your stores…”

Drona grunts and leads them towards the room he had just vacated. They soon find themselves inside a wondrous armory filled with bundles of magic arrows, stacks of exotic swords and walls lined with racks of spears and assorted pole-arms. It’s an armorer’s paradise. Feathersong acquires a greatsword to his liking crafted of a local favorite: disrupting steel. When it strikes an opponent they are teleported onto an empty plain for a couple seconds.(disappear for one round). Stonespirit contents herself with a simple short sword, and Nimean abstains altogether, preferring his own bow.

“Now ‘at you lot’re properly equipped… Reilan’ll be wantin’ ta see tha whole lot ‘a you by the town outside. Says its important.” With that Drona takes a swig from a large flask and stomps off.

At the village A scene of chaos and pandemonium greets our stalwart adventurers. Bodies litter the streets; the buildings lie in heaps of burning rubble; bands of animated footwear of all sizes hop in formation through the ruined town. Reilan is nowhere in sight, so they hide amongst the trees.

A flicker of movement is all the warning they have of Reilan’s arrival. His cloaked form appears at the edge of town right as another large group of Aralanda’s minions arrive. He rends them to pieces with shadow magic and rushes another group without so much as a glance at the party.

They rush to help him as he engages a third group, but Reilan waves the back. “I’ll take care of these. My subbordinates are searching for survivors. You deal with Aralanda before she can create more minions!”

Through the woods to a misty lake they run before they see Aralanda’s translucent form slithering through the unnaturally calm water.

She shrieks, “You Cannot stop me now! If Reilan isn’t man enough to come himself, I’ll have to keep slaughtering and razing until he shows himself!” Two huge shoes erupt from the lake. They’re bright red stiletto heeles shoes.




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