@Thinslayer

"Yes, that is is. Thank you. Tiberius said hurriedly as he grabbed the ledger. For some reason, Tiberius had the notion that it would be an actual book with a story but he was very wrong.

He then read what the book had upon its pages over and over again, trying to find some hidden meaning, but with no luck. These records weren't much to go on, just expenses and the fated trip to Fellmore, which was just littered with taxes and all things financial which he cared little about.

Then the name, Druth Vanarys appeared. He wasn't familiar with it but if it was important enough to be listed with the other three council member names, then there had to be something of relevance about it.

Tiberius looked at the clerk again and questioned, "Who is Druth Vanarys? I'm not quite familiar with the name."

The clerk continued sorting his pile of documents. "His name crops up more in the older documents. I always assumed he was another council member. I never see his name in anything under four centuries old, so I figure he up and died or something."

@Thinslayer

The Storyteller closed his book and put it away as Vert voiced her opinions on the solutions. He wasn't surprised by the opinions she had, The Storyteller wouldn't have like either option. The Storyteller was then struck by a thought that caused him to bring his left hand up to his eyes. "You wouldn't happen to have any suggestions, would you?" The Storyteller asked the silver ring that adorned his finger.

@Thinslayer

The Storyteller closed his book and put it away as Vert voiced her opinions on the solutions. He wasn't surprised by the opinions she had, The Storyteller wouldn't have like either option. The Storyteller was then struck by a thought that caused him to bring his left hand up to his eyes. "You wouldn't happen to have any suggestions, would you?" The Storyteller asked the silver ring that adorned his finger.

A few minutes later, he received a vision of a bright blue stone on a necklace hanging around Vert's neck. When the maw in her belly vanished, so did the light in the stone.

It was a mana stone, found in the dwarven mines and occasionally sold to the elves.

<Snipped quote by rush99999>

A few minutes later, he received a vision of a bright blue stone on a necklace hanging around Vert's neck. When the maw in her belly vanished, so did the light in the stone.

It was a mana stone, found in the dwarven mines and occasionally sold to the elves.

The Storyteller had just come out of the council building when the vision hit him. And once it was done, he chuckled. "Of course, a mana stone" he said to the silver ring "Why didn't I think of that? Durwith and Lorges are usually in town around this time of the month. Let's go see if they have a mana stone to spare". With that said, The Storyteller headed off to the market.

When the time came to meet at the gate, The Storyteller was the 1st to arrive. In his hand was a mana stone he'd purchased from the market for a fistful of silver and an amusing story about paper and hourglasses. When Vert arrived, The Storyteller had every intention of giving her the mana stone.

Vert sighed as the others left her. She moved over to a map to start plotting out the route. She had no idea how long it would take them to get there. It often depended on what they end up facing. In truth though, Vert had no idea of the Warlock would still be there. He could have moved on, but she wouldn't let any of them know that. Most likely he would still be here. She would know for sure when she got close enough, that much she knew.

Once Vert arrived at the gate she had the map with her. The course plotted out already, though she was still deciding on where to avoid the main road and where not to. It depended on what was there along with what time of day they got to those points.

Tiberius frowned, slightly annoyed with the answer but now more intrigued then ever. "Thank you for your help, have a nice day." he casually said before sliding the book back to the clerk. He learned only a small amount but it was definitely something to work with. The name Druth Vanarys struck him as odd, and the clerk's words only gave him more suspicion. Who was he? What was he? Where did he go? Clearly there had to be a correlation between Lady Sadronniel Aphaderuiondur's funeral and his disappearance.

Tiberius began to theorize what might have happened to him in his head as he left the record hall and made his way to the Western Gate on Lancel. Druth was probably a council member, but that begged the question, who were his chosen people? More importantly, why had any record of him been mostly forgotten? He could have went back to Fellmore and tried for revenge against the orcs, only to meet the same fate as Lady Sadronniel but instead of being brought back, he was left. It was sad to think about, dying in an unfamiliar land and never being laid to rest in your home. There was probably much more about Druth that the remaining council members could tell him, but for some reason, he felt that he wouldn't get the answers he was looking for. He was already cautious of Sadron from the letter he received, and time was already short. It would have to wait.

Before long he arrived at the gate to see the monster, Vert and the Storyteller waiting. Tiberius said nothing to either of them, he was too lost in thought and still slightly upset that Vert was going with them. He grimaced at the thought actually. He'd have to tell everyone about his letters later when they settled down for camp or wherever the night take them. For now, he sat upon his horse, agitated and ready to go.

@Cuccoruler

"Hey Vert" The Storyteller said when he noticed Vert approaching "I've got something for you". He approached Vert and placed the mana stone necklace around her neck, causing it to start glowing. "This mana stone will track the strength of your curse" The Storyteller said "When the curse is broken, the stone will stop glowing". It was at that point, The Storyteller noticed Tiberius approaching. He greeted the man with a smile and a polite nod before walking back to the gate and leaning on the wall next to it as he had been doing while waiting for the others.

With a defeated sigh, Ivan let Vert go her own way. He himself needed to prepare for the journey ahead. He turned to Zenovia and smiled. Come on, lets go get some supplies... As they left the meeting area, Ivan was having second thoughts about bringing Noire along. What with the buisness with the Warlock, and Vert joining them on the journey, it was becoming much too dangerous.

Hang on a sec Zenovia... I gotta take care of something real quick. Ivan headed for the inn, surely Noire would still be hanging around there.

With a defeated sigh, Ivan let Vert go her own way. He himself needed to prepare for the journey ahead. He turned to Zenovia and smiled. Come on, lets go get some supplies... As they left the meeting area, Ivan was having second thoughts about bringing Noire along. What with the buisness with the Warlock, and Vert joining them on the journey, it was becoming much too dangerous.

Hang on a sec Zenovia... I gotta take care of something real quick. Ivan headed for the inn, surely Noire would still be hanging around there.

Noire was not there. He should have been. The bartender hailed Ivan down.
"Are you Ivan Stormwall? Your friend left a note for you."

Hey Ivan,
Some bad guys caught up with me, so I gotta run. They're orcs, big ones. I don't know what they want with me, bu don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Go out there and make me proud, okay?
~Sir N.

---

So it had been decided that Vert would live. Zenovia felt a slight uneasiness wash over her as Tiberius spoke to the group. She felt a weight of responsibility suddenly cling to her. She voted white for her own selfish reasons, not for the monster that stood before them, however now there was no going back on what she had voted for. In the back of her mind, she had hoped that black votes would win, but of course, such thoughts gave her a guilty conscience. Something she didn't need as a Shaman, especially one that was to succeed her family.

She stayed behind as the others put their 'two cents' in about Vert. The Storyteller seemed quite interested in Vert's situation, however Zenovia wasn't even sure if she wanted to greet her. The mage could feel such cold emotions grip her heart like a vice. The spirits shook, perturbed by the young shaman's emotions. 'I wish they weren't so sensitive..' She sighed inwardly. It was a bad sign.

As the meeting came to a close, the young elf got up from her seat. Ivan was also on the move, however he went off in a different direction, saying that he had something to take care of. Zenovia wasn't about to pry, let alone follow her new acquaintance to where he might be headed, thus she went to go double check her supplies. Satisfied that her belongings were in check, she made her way to the West gate.

It seemed that a few of the party had made it there first. Tiberius, The Storyteller.. and the monster.. She averted her eyes from the group, choosing to keep quiet in their company. She didn't like making a scene and she didn't like being a part of it, thus silence is always a good choice in her books. Zenovia observed the spirits that floated near Vert. Despite their lack of expression, they seemed curious, excitable even. Perhaps they hadn't come across such a person in these areas before.

Laina was nibbling on her lip when the decision that Vert would live was declared. She lightened up a bit but resumed to her nervous habit as she watched those around the table discuss the outcome of it. Her nails twisted in the cloth of her clothes, she was so excited yet so shy and nervous in front of all of these people. When the meeting ended Laina followed the others to the West Gate, trailing quite behind and being as invisible as one could be. She sneaked a few glances at the person named Vert as she walks, 'What a strange character'She thought to herself idly as she hurried along to catch up with the others.

<Snipped quote by Darkmoon Angel>

Noire was not there. He should have been. The bartender hailed Ivan down.
"Are you Ivan Stormwall? Your friend left a note for you."

Hey Ivan,
Some bad guys caught up with me, so I gotta run. They're orcs, big ones. I don't know what they want with me, bu don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Go out there and make me proud, okay?
~Sir N.

Ivan was worried for his friend. Orcs? And what did they want with Noire? It bothered him to have to get this news, but Ivan was sure Noire could handle a few lumbering brutes.

After gathering his things and some extra supplies, Ivan made his way to the west gate. Everyone seemed to be accounted for, so the journey can finally commence. Ivan walked over to Zenovia. Sorry... Had to take care of a few things.. Time to get started I guess huh?

@Rush99999

Vert turned to look at the storyteller. She flinched back when he got close enough to put the necklace on her. Even blushing a bit at how close he got. "How do I lessen the power of the curse? I don't wanna have children for the rest of my life." Vert asked a bit flustered from him getting so close.

It was rare that anyone ever got this close to Vert. In fact the only people that ever got that close to her was her parents before she had eaten them. Everyone else who got that close were eaten by her.

@Cuccoruler @Thinslayer

The Storyteller raised an eyebrow at both Vert's question and her current flustered state. "Let me get back to you on that" The Storyteller answered. He then lifted his left hand to his eye level and spoke to the silver ring again. "You wouldn't happen to have any ideas on how to break Vert's curse that doesn't involve her breeding like a rabbit?" The Storyteller asked. While he waited for Erudessa to find the right Big Book of Problem Fixes in the afterlife's massive library, The Storyteller lowered his hand and looked back at Vert. "By the way, what's gotten you so flustered?" The Storyteller asked "Is something wrong?".

Sadron withdrew his pipe for a moment to chuckle. "A fool I am indeed, old friend. Their dwarven alliance is fleeting, at best. The orcs and dwarves have been feuding for decades, and even Arandur has been unable to dissuade them. No, I smell a rat. I think it is a ruse to distract us from orcen territory. Fellmore used to pose little threat because it was so fragmented, on the order of nearly a hundred separate states at one point. If they ever united, they would be a grave threat. Already, a hundred has condensed into two. The Warlock is primarily responsible for this, but I have reason to believe other forces are in play stopping him. Rumor has it that his attempt to reunite with northern Fellmore was like hitting a brick wall. The northern orcs were never very influential, leading me to believe that they have found some considerable outside advantage. And it is not the dwarves, because those mountains are nigh-on impassable in either direction."

He reached out and pointed to a rocky region south of the Fellmore pass. "There's good copper here, useful for bronze weaponry. The southern orcs have taken it and used it to upgrade from stone to bronze equipment. The iron mines are not far away, just a few miles west of here, held by a small contingent of dwarves. If I were an orc leader, I would make some kind of trade agreement with the dwarves for the iron, but I'm not sure what the orcs are giving in return, as Fellmore is pretty barren of natural resources. One way or another, we need eyes and ears up there."

Xen leaned further into the map, committing rivers, streams, roads and hidden paths to memory as Sadron began pointing to key locations. The only way north is through a pass cut into the mountains, but the road there is just as perilous. However, Xen had just the experience against an overwhelming force. His eyes peered up to Sadron the amber of his eyes dancing as the light of the fireplace hit the iris. "I see what you intend. You should have come to me sooner."
Xen pointed toward the iron mine to the west of the hill, resting on the border of a forest. He knew what kind of tactics would need to be employed for a successful engagement. Surprise was paramount and there was no telling how deep the Dwarves have dug for the rich ore that littered beneath their feet. If the Orc Horde had need of these materials they would have to find it elsewhere, and having a plant so close to the Hill was dangerous indeed. This will be a game of shadows and blood. Cut off an army from its supplies and it will wither, in time, but also grow more dangerous. He only hoped this impromptu squad would be up for the challenge.
"I would advise placing all of your guards on alert, and doubling the posts. We will choke their supplies here... here... and here as we make our way west before cutting north. This will give you some breathing room until you can properly fortify the surrounding areas."

"The rest of you, he said as he turned to the face the gathering, stock up on rations, fill your waterskins, sharpen your blades, and bend the dents from your armor. We set out in one hour from the west gate."

The eight adventurers stood at the entrance to the west gate, awaiting Xen's instructions. The plan: to cut off supplies of iron to Fellmore by stopping the caravans. Sadron held his staff high and gazed at them.

"May the spirits guide you on your journey. I wish you the best of luck. Fare thee well, Champions of Hope."

@Cuccoruler @Thinslayer

The Storyteller raised an eyebrow at both Vert's question and her current flustered state. "Let me get back to you on that" The Storyteller answered. He then lifted his left hand to his eye level and spoke to the silver ring again. "You wouldn't happen to have any ideas on how to break Vert's curse that doesn't involve her breeding like a rabbit?" The Storyteller asked. While he waited for Erudessa to find the right Big Book of Problem Fixes in the afterlife's massive library, The Storyteller lowered his hand and looked back at Vert. "By the way, what's gotten you so flustered?" The Storyteller asked "Is something wrong?".

The Storyteller was met with another vision, but far from answering his question, it only generated more.

You're dragged through the Legion of orcs. Your elegant white dress is in tatters, and all your strength is sapped. Wild, bitter sobs pour from your throat and mix with the jeers of your enemies. They drag you to the entrance of the Tower, a vast obsidian fortress where the Warlock makes his abode. The iron gates open, and they drag you to the foot of the throne, where you're unceremoniously dumped.

You look up. The Warlock himself rises from the throne. Thorny black armor guards his body, and a black crown-shaped mask hides his face. He raises his hand. Then he pauses. "I know just what to do with you," he says.

"The orcs haven't tasted the flesh of an elf in a hundred years."

Vert took another step back from the Storyteller again, trying to hide her blush. "No one has ever gotten that close to me and lived." Vert said before turning to lead the others towards where the caravan paths were. "Try to stick to the trees once we get close, if they see you they won't hesitate to go after you." Vert warned the others before walking towards the path and looking at the map and compass every now and then to make sure she knew where she was going.

The Storyteller snapped out of that particularly harrowing vision just in time to hear Vert answer is question and advise the champions to stick to the trees once they were close to their goal. The Storyteller barely registered those words over what he'd just witnessed. But when he noticed that someone had started walking, The Storyteller decided that monkey see monkey do was a good strategy to follow for the moment and walked after Vert, drawing level with her just as he fully returned from the vision. "So the adventure begins" The Storyteller said to Vert in a somewhat desperate attempt to take his mind off what he'd just seen "Did you know we aren't the 1st group of adventurers to be called the Champions of Hope? A decade or so before the High Elves began conquering the continent, a group of human warriors gathered under such a title in a quest to bring down a powerful human warlord who planned on uniting the human tribes through brute force and conquering the continent. Though they succeeded in their quest, they say that the warlord's actions caused the High Elves begin their conquest of the humans and subsequently the entire continent".

"Captain?"

The Captain opened her eyes. "Yes, Nilfrog. My apologies. Gorman's intel leads me to believe that the Champions will move into dwarven territory. Assuming they take the fastest route, they will reach the borders in about two days. If we are to meet them, we must be swift. There is no way for us to reach the southern pass without attracting the Warlock's attention. I propose we cut across the mountains."

The orcs around the table began to murmur. The mountains were utterly treacherous to any living thing, and the prospect of crossing them was a daunting one. The Captain raised her hand, signalling for their attention.

"I know a path."

Silence fell over them.

"Long ago, I discovered a traversible route from Khazak'run into Fellmore through a southwestern passage. It is still dangerous and bitterly cold, but better than any other option we have. We must cross it. The Champions cannot be allowed to face the enemy in their current state. We will take our wargs through the pass and harass the enemy to weaken them so that when the Champions do strike, they may succeed. Any questions, comments, or concerns?"

They all shook their heads. "Sounds like a workable plan to me," said Gilf, the short orc. "My only concern is whether you can manage it. Our thick hides protect us, but you're thin as a thimble. You'll need some form of protection."

An amused smile tugged at her lips. "Well, what do you propose then?"
"How about one of us hug you the whole way?" he suggested.
The Captain snorted. "Excellent, you're hired."

The whole table of orcs began snickering. Gilf sniffed and crossed his arms. "I can still do it, you know!" he cried, and the snickers burst out in to full-throated laughs. The Captain came over and slapped him on the back. "I appreciate the thought, Gilf. I know your heart is true. I will hunt and acquire a coat myself, so there will be no need for you to carry me."

Turning to the others, she declared, "We leave by nightfall. Make sure you've hunted or traded for everything you need before we depart."

Vert took another step back from the Storyteller again, trying to hide her blush. "No one has ever gotten that close to me and lived." Vert said before turning to lead the others towards where the caravan paths were. "Try to stick to the trees once we get close, if they see you they won't hesitate to go after you." Vert warned the others before walking towards the path and looking at the map and compass every now and then to make sure she knew where she was going.

Since their path was still within the borders of civilization, their path took them past elven settlements. The resident wood elves easily noticed them despite their attempts at stealth, and made no attempt to hide their curiosity. Not all of them looked upon the band with friendly eyes, but none hindered them.