The other door in the hallway proved to open up on a spiral staircase winding upwards. At the top of the stairs was another door. When Hawn grasped the handle to fling the door open, an ear-piercing noise filled the air for several heart-beats, making him cover his sensitive elven ears. Trying the door again once the sound was gone, Hawn found it to be firmly held in place and the feel of strong magic suffused it. "Is it locked?" asked Dwarkin. "Nay," replied Hawn, cast his eyes over the portal. "It is bound by magic." "Can it be forced open?" inquired Graynyr, intolerant to launch himself at the throat of the one who had caused them such troubles and forced him to put up with Hawn and Evrin and their blasted elven principles. "It is bound by magic and may only be opened by magic," stated Hawn. He placed his palm flat on the center of the door, calling upon all of his magical powers. The door shuddered a moment before slamming open to crash against the wall as if struck by a battering ram. The tower chamber beyond was the same shape and size as the laboratory below, but dimly lit by several crimson balls of light near the ceiling. opposite the doorway sat a huge wooden desk. Behind the desk, stretching halfway around the circular wall was a massive bookcase. Although crammed with countless books, folios, and scrolls, the shelving also held an assortment of jars, quill pens, parchment, and the like. In the middle of the room was a heavy wooden table piled high with more nameless implements of the arcane arts scattered around a glowing crystal ball. Behind this table stood a wild-eyed human whose appearance was dominated by a huge paunch flowing over his belt and a long, ragged, unkempt beard through which crawled several large insects and beetles. He seemed to be frothing at the mouth and was waving a wand over his head in rage, cursing his uninvited guests unintelligibly in several of the cruder humanoid languages. As he pulled at his matted hair with his free hand, the mage sputtered what must have been a magic spell, for Hawn was suddenly hurled against the wall with unbelievable force as if by some giant, unseen hand. The rest of the group rushed into the room with their weapons at the ready. Dwarkin helped the dazed Hawn up off of the floor, seeing that is friend was not seriously hurt. Roarshahk raised his free hand, making some form of mystical gesture, and there was a brief burst of light. Then suddenly there where a pair of ungainly, winged humanoid things hovering in the chamber. They launched themselves at the elves. Gael thrust with her trident, ripping three parallel gashes in the creature's side. It batted the weapon to one side and pounced on her instead of Evrin, digging into her tender flesh with its sharp teeth and talons before tossing her to one side where she curled up onto a ball around her trident. Graynyr grasped his longsword in both hands, bringing it down on the creature's skull, which literally exploded, sending bloody gore and grey matter splattering over the wall and floor. He started to move to help Gael, but she was pushing herself erect with her trident, weaving uncertainly on her feet. Roarshahk pointed his wand at Evrin, and a sparkling line of green shot from the triangular crystal fixed to the tip of the wand. Having seen the motion, Evrin ducked and moved as fast as he could, just managing to evade being transfixed in the light of the wand. He knew not what manner of magic the wand held, and counted himself lucky in not having learned that information the hard way. Hawn and Dwarkin, meanwhile, were fighting off the other winged monster. Hawn, clutching a bitten arm to his body, noticed Roarshahk chanting magic spells in the far side of the room. Graynyr moved to assist the two elves, cleaving a deep gash in the other creature's back, only to receive a clawing in return. The creature also raked its claws across Dwarkin's chest before Evrin finished it off with a sword thrust in its neck. Gael was limping away from the fight, bleeding badly from the gashes the first monster had dealt her. A movement out of the corner of her eye brought her head around to catch sight of some ridiculous-looking creature with long rubbery arms bounding through the air at her with is mouth wide open, exposing long teeth. She brought her trident up to spit the creature as it tried vainly to twist away from the triple-pronged spear. Gael pushed the creature to the floor, pinning its head under her foot as she stabbed it again and again until its body was nothing more than a mash of gory, ruined flesh and she collapsed to her knees in exhaustion. Across the room, Roarshahk clutched his stomach and roared in rage as his familiar spirit died horribly under the priestess's trident. Hawn pulled a dagger out of each of his boots, throwing both at the evil mage. The daggers bounced away from Roarshahk at the last moment, deflected by his protective magics. Dwarkin was circling around to attack Roarshahk when a trio of tall, dog-like humanoids appeared in the room, having been summoned by Roarshahk's magic moments before the death of his familiar. Dwarkin swung his scimitar clumsily at the nearest of the creatures, recognizing them as gnolls, a race of utterly evil and malicious humanoids. His attack missed, but the gnoll's did not, its sword slashing a wicked gash in Dwarkin's side. A second gnoll hacked at Hawn's leg, who promptly dropped to one knee, on the verge of passing out from the physical torture he had received thus far in the battle. The third gnoll had appeared before Graynyr, who promptly brought his blade down on its neck, nearly severing its head. It fell to the floor, as good as dead. Seeing his summoned servants being vanquished about him, Roarshahk raised his hands and cast another, more powerful summoning. A swirling tunnel of darkness appeared, and from it stepped a tall, bat-winged woman whose ravishing beauty was weakened only by the pair of horns sprouting from her brow -- a demoness. The demoness glanced around at the melee. Giving Roarshahk a condescending sneer, she hurled a small sphere of crackling electricity across the room. It struck Hawn in a thunderous discharge of energy that caused the elf's body to spasm and twitch, wracked by powerful electrical currents. As the sparks faded, he lay upon the flagstones, inert. Gael shuddered at the sight of this. She stood up, gathering the last of her strength to throw her trident across the room. The three-pronged spear slammed into the demoness's breast, knocking her against the wall, the blessed weapon searing her flesh. She crumpled down the wall, her precious life-ichor spilling from her body. Gael crawled over to where Hawn lay on the cold stone floor. The grey elf was still alive, if just barely. Electrical burns criss-crossed his exposed flesh, and his clothing was scorched and smoking. His breath rattled laboriously in his throat. She placed her hands upon his chest, calling upon Poseidon to heal him. The energy flowed through her arms once again, but this time it was stronger, purer. The glow spread out, surrounding the elf's entire body. The battle wounds, as well as the scorchmarks, faded away, leaving unbroken flesh. Hawn sat up, wearing a restful mien, and gave her a thankful smile. But then he shook his head as if waking up, rage filling him once again. Then he was back on his feet, his attention focused fully on the battle, with whatever had been in his mind upon awaking now banished from conscious thought. Roarshahk cast another spell, and suddenly there was not one, but four Roarshahks in the room. Evrin ducked under his gnoll's sword swing, stabbing his own sword into the dog-faced humanoid's abdomen. It dropped to its knees, and Evrin slashed its throat before moving off towards the four Roarshahks. Graynyr evaded a poorly timed blow from the last gnoll and slashed it across the stomach. The gnoll clutched at the wound, but to no avail, for its intestines slid through its hairy fingers to land in a nauseating pile on the floor. The gnoll dropped into blissful oblivion, beyond the pain of the mortal wound. Graynyr then charged across the tower chamber to stab one of the four Roarshahks, which promptly disappeared with an audible pop. Hawn, who had been advancing on Roarshahk, noticed that the demoness had picked herself up off of the floor and was attempting to remove the trident from her body. Hawn launched himself at her, eager to return her favors. He evaded her glistening talons, cutting her side with his silvered blade. Then he spun around, smashing the magicked blade into her back. The blade bit deep into her flesh, and Hawn was rewarded by the feel of bone cracking under metal. The demoness fell back to the floor, as inert as Hawn had been moments before. Dwarkin, who had been keeping his eyes on Roarshahk since the three new ones appeared, slashed at the center one of the three remaining Roarshahks. He was rewarded by a cry of pain as he struck the real mage, who clutched at his bloodied side. The real Roarshahk, spouting curses, pulled his cloak about himself and disappeared. In his place hovered a small bat which wheeled in the air and darted out an arrow slit. The two remaining Roarshahks froze, fading back into nonexistence. They were all still for a moment, surprised to still be alive, when the demoness let out a racking cough. Hawn knelt over the dying netherworld denizen, listening as she mumbled some words in his ear. When she was quiet with the stillness of death, he stood up. Energies began to coalesce around the body of the demoness, until finally there was nothing left of its corporeal form. The trident, which had still been imbedded in her body, clattered to the floor. Hawn picked it up and handed it to Gael, who numbly accepted it, having been healed of the worst of her wounds by Dwarkin's druidical powers. At the prompting of the others to explain what he had heard, Hawn muttered half-aloud, "Riddles. Nonsensical ravings. Something about this being too soon." He shook his head, commenting, "Nothing I could make sense of." He started to add something else, but his gaze darted past Evrin and he shouted a warning to the elven warrior. Evrin jumped to one side and spun around with his sword drawn in time to see the twisted human curse and disappear. "I will have that blasted human's head," stated Evrin vehemently. "Let it wait," commanded Hawn. "We must find Roarshahk before he pulls any more of his tricks." Graynyr felt a sudden pain in his back. He swung around, feeling his blade bite into flesh and bone. The twisted human servant fell back, clutching at the severed stump of his wrist, his hand landing on the floor where it twitched, still holding the dagger. The human uttered an inarticulate wail and stumbled towards the door, nearly falling in his haste to flee. Graynyr stumbled after the human, ignoring the fresh dagger-wound in his back. Dwarkin shouted after the half-elf to come back, but his words went unheeded. Seeing this, Dwarkin took off after Graynyr, not planning on letting the half-elf out of his sight. There was no telling what other traps remained in this cursed place. The deafening crash of thunder shook the tower chamber as a bolt of lightning sprang out of nowhere, drilling into Evrin, who felling into a large tapestry which started to smolder from the heat generated by the current. The disembodied voice of Roarshahk started spouting multilingual curses at them again as Hawn spun around trying to find its source. Gael knelt next to the inert form of Evrin, desperately praying to Poseidon to bring the elf back from death's door. A barrage of glowing darts sprang from the far end of the chamber, boring painful wounds into Hawn and Gael. Hawn locked his eyes on that spot as he heard the invisible Roarshahk insanely screaming, "May the demons of the Abyss gnaw upon your bones for all eternity!" A powerful breeze began blowing through the expansive chamber, tugging loose papers into the air, obscuring Hawn's vision. Hawn cast a spell of his own, sending a bolt of sorcerous energy at the spot from which he had seen the darts originate. He was rewarded by a gurgling cry of pain in Roarshahk's unhinged voice while the wind continued to mount in force, howling around the room like a cyclone, tossing odd bits of furniture, books, and other items through the air. Hawn tried to shield himself from the countless wind-born missiles which battered at him, until finally the gale became so powerful that it lifted him from his feet and smashed him into the wall, knocking the awareness from him. -- 10/17/6067 -- Hawn jerked awake, the vague recollection of fighting faceless horrors filling his mind. He looked around the room, expecting another trick of magic by Roarshahk, only to ask of himself what he was doing in a bed. Hawn was laying in a large bed, several heavy furs covering him. His clothes were folded and stacked on a chair, his weapons on top of the stack. He was trying to remember what might have happened when the door opened. Hawn was starting to go for his sword when he saw it was Dwarkin. He lay back in the furs. "I hope I did not disturb you," apologized the druid. "I was already awake," admitted Hawn. "But, why am I here? What has happened. I can remember little of the final confrontation with Roarshahk." A stressful occurrence indeed for one of a race with near- perfect recall. "When I returned from helping Graynyr, I found you, Gael, and Evrin scattered around the tower chamber amidst the remains of its furnishings. It looked as if a tornado had passed through the chamber, burying you under the rubble." Dwarkin paused quizzically as Hawn muttered something about that being an accurate description, before resuming. "All of you were severely battered and on the verge of death. I was able to heal the worst of your wounds. You have been resting here ever since then." "'Ever since then?'" echoed Hawn, baffled by the word choice. "How long have I been asleep?" Glancing out the window at the darkening sky, Dwarkin replied, "Well- neigh two days." Hawn sat up in bed, despite his protesting body. "How could you let me sleep for two days? I should have been searching for Roarshahk." Dwarkin pressed his friend back down onto the bed, saying in a concerned voice, "You were in severe need of rest, not only for your lack of it over the past month, but also to allow your body to heal from its exertions and wounds in the battles the mage forced upon us. As for Roarshahk, he is dead, with a scorched hole in his head -- by the magic spell you cast, I should think from what Gael has told me of your short battle." Hawn settled back into the bed, glad to have one less enemy and feeling some satisfaction at this vengeance upon one who would oppose him. Now for the drow. "Then what has happened whilst I have been unconscious?" he queried. "We have slain the last of Roarshahk's minions and explored the keep. With my own limited powers, I have disarmed the worst of his traps and magics, so it should be safe for us to stay here for some time. I have also examined a number of powerful magic items which might serve us in our plans." Dwarkin paused a breath before adding, "And I have been summoned back to the Silvendin forest by the superiors of my order. There is something evil afoot in the world, and I like not the feel of it. I must leave first thing in the morning, though it should not take me long as I will ride the griffon." "But then how are the rest of us to be a way from this isle?" Hawn considered aloud. "In the remains of Roarshahk's workroom, I found an enchanted talisman. From what his notes say, it enables the wearer to teleport himself and others over great distances. Being skilled in the arts of magic, I should think that you could use it to transport yourself and the others to Dorelli," Dwarkin told his friend. "When will you return?" Hawn concern was not so much with the idea of continuing this endeavor without the companionship of his old comrade, but rather with the point that they would no longer have Dwarkin's druidical powers to help them. "That I cannot say," sighed Dwarkin, for he knew that without his assistance, Hawn's mental instability might send him back into another depression from which he would likely never recover. Hawn knew that he would miss Dwarkin, for the druid's powers would have served him well. But still, he did retain some warriors, even if he did not take pleasure from their presence. "Then are the others ready to leave?" "Evrin and Graynyr are quite ready. But I fear Gael has yet to recover from whatever happened to her mind when we encountered those enchanted scarecrows the other night." "What ails her?" Hawn cursed silently to himself. Was he to lose yet another powerful ally? "She will not speak of it to me or the others. Perhaps you might have better luck with her. I cannot say." Hawn sighed. Must he now involve himself with the problems of another? As if he did not have enough of his own.