-- 12/23/6067 --

     The inn was like many another they had passed through during their
past few weeks of journey.  The locals sat around the common room, talking
to each other as they glanced curiously at the large band of travellers.
The companions made no effort at conversion with the locals, concentrating
on warming their bones after their cold day's travels.
     The only noticeable difference was the increase in tales they
overheard pertaining to growing evils, walking dead, supernatural
occurrences, and so forth.  As the travellers drew closer to Arinius, it
became evident that the forces of the underworld were strengthening their
hold on the world in preparation for their forthcoming invasion.
     The adventurers had themselves essentially given up on attempting to
warn local communities of this brewing danger.  They were inevitably viewed
as madmen by the populace of the communities, while the agencies of law
perceived them as rabble-rousers.  They had given up under sheer
frustration.
     But at least their efforts were not totally in vain; they had, on
occasion, heard people mention rumors of a coming return of demonkind to
the world.  Though the few instances of this were held as humorous, they
were getting around.  They could only hope those "rumors" would be
perceived as truthful in time to afford these commoners some protection
when the actual invasion began.
     They noticed a human who descended the stairs from above.  His gaze
examined everyone in the common room, but stopped when it reached their
table.  After a brief, indecisive pause in which the adventurers took
notice of his attention, he came over to their table.
     The young man wore simple clothes, unadorned but for a bright green
sash and a medallion about his neck, an emerald in a gold sunburst.  Arahna
appeared to recognize him, standing up to greet him.  Each acknowledged the
other with a strange gesture, an odd combination of a bow and a salute.
     "Greetings," he pronounced with clear enunciation, "I am Valon Kresh.
I was unaware that any of the Brotherhood were in this area."
     "Well met, Valon Kresh.  I am Arahna Deln.  No mission for the
Brotherhood carries me hither: I follow my Life Walk," she announced
proudly.
     From this strange greeting, Arahna's companions determined that this
man was also a member of the Brotherhood of the Golden Twilight, the group
of sages to which Arahna belonged.
     "Then I wish you good prospects," said Valon.  "However, since you are
here, your assistance is required by the Brotherhood."
     "I would be most honored to assist in any way."
     "Then follow me."
     As the two left, Arahna told the others she would speak with them
later.

     "A most impressive account or yourself," observed Tuvron Hy'z, after
Arahna had completed the tale of her Life Walk.  The thin, silver-haired
man had sat in complete silence, listening to Arahna's recount of her Life
Walk, that period of self testing so important in the life of every member
of the Brotherhood of the Golden Twilight.  The old man, quite spry for his
eighty plus years of life, sat forward, adding, "And a most important
matter that must be relayed to the Grandmasters.  It is a shame you had not
the chance to inform the Brotherhood of this forthcoming Daemonic invasion
err now."
     "I had desired to do so, but..." began Arahna.
     The aged Tuvron held up a hand to forestall her apology.  "I do not
fault you for your decision.  We must all chose from many paths in life; it
is in this way that we learn and grow wiser as to how to how to make future
decisions."  Arahna accepted this mild rebuke in silence.  "I believe that
Valon has informed you that your assistance is required in a mission of
utmost importance to the Brotherhood?" added Tuvron by way of changing the
subject back to the matter at hand.
     "He has spoken of the existence of a book which must be recovered, but
nothing more than that," confirmed Arahna, welcoming the change of topic.
     "Then you will assist us in this matter?" bespoke Tuvron.  It sounded
to be not entirely a mere request.
     "Though I desire to be of any assistance possible, I am already
pledged to the battle against those daemoniacal beings who seek to invade
our world.  I would fall far behind my companions were I to assist you,"
pointed out Arahna.
     Following a moment's pause for consideration, Tuvron said, "Then it
will interest you to know that this tome concerns those dark powers against
which you have chosen to battle."
     "In what manner?" prompted Arahna, forgetting herself in her desire to
learn more of that which she and her companions fought.
     Tuvron Hy'z gave her a stern look to remind her of her position before
continuing.  "This tome was stolen over a year ago from the inner library
of the community for which I am chief Sentinel.  It was stolen by one of
our own number."  Arahna was visibly surprised by this double revelation:
not only by the knowledge that this book had been stolen by a member of the
Brotherhood, but also by the fact that Tuvron was a Sentinel, one of the
special members of the Brotherhood responsible for the enforcement of the
Brotherhood's higher laws.  The Sentinels -- being outside of the normal
hierarchy of the Brotherhood, a fact which gave them special power over
normal members -- held much respect from the rest of the members of the
Brotherhood of the Golden Twilight.
     "I see you are no less surprised than the rest of us were," commented
Tuvron upon noting the look of surprise that crossed Arahna's face.  "The
one who stole the tome is both powerful and cunning, and it has taken me
this long to find him.  His name is Vastor Naasht, and not only is he a
master in the Order of the Ebony Star, but he has also developed a powerful
mastery over the art of magic, for his duties included studying the
interrelationship of magic and the physical world."
     The revelation that Vastor was a member of the Ebony Star made his
theft of this tome more understandable, for that particular Order held the
loosest constraints on behavior of all the Orders, and as such attracted
the evillest and most untrustworthy of the members of the Brotherhood.  But
that Vastor was skilled at magic was still surprising, for although many of
the members of the Brotherhood were skilled sages due to their extensive
studying of various sciences and philosophies, few of those who studied the
forces of magic ever became versed in it well enough to work more than a
few minor magics.
     "After searching for him," continued Tuvron, "I have finally located
his current refuge to be in the ruins of an decayed keep some little
distance from this town.  However, whilst I had planned on awaiting the
arrival of a host of our fellow Brothers to take Vastor into custody, I now
know that time will not allow it.  The wizard who assisted in locating
Vastor also informs me that there will be a planar conjunction at midnight
tomorrow, and Vastor has taken measures to assure that this conjunction
will result in a gateway opening to the lower planes that he might deliver
the tome into the foul hands of an emissary from the very Hells themselves
at that time, and what he will gain in return I cannot say, though it will
certainly bode no good for the world."
     Although Arahna knew little of demons, she recalled that since the
Demon Wars, the evil entities of the underworld could not enter the world
of mortals unassisted.  It was no trivial task for a mage to summon a
demon, though Gael and told her that the sorcerer Roarshahk had somehow
succeeded in doing so in their battle with him in Skellig Keep.  But a
planar conjunction would result in a weakening of the barriers between two
planes of existence, thus allowing a mage to easily open up a gateway to
other worlds.  And it was Arahna's understanding that it was just such a
conjunction -- except on a far greater scale -- during the vernal equinox
in three months which would allow the demons to open numerous gateways
without any assistance from mortals, and thus begin their invasion.
     What puzzled Arahna was the nature of this tome, so when Tuvron paused
finally, she ventured to ask, "What manner of tome is of such import that
it might obtain the interest of devils from the lower planes?"
     Tuvron sighed inwardly and informed her, "This tome which Vastor
Naasht stole contains instructions which allow one versed in the arts of
magic to produce bodies shaped from clay, and then animate those bodies
with the spirits of the underworld.  And while I do not know how powerful
these things truly are, one can rest assured that with the essence of a
demonic being bound into it, such a creation would be powerful indeed.  And
with what you have told me, should the forces of darkness obtain this tome
and distribute copies to their faithful servants in this world, there will
be that many more monsters to assist this army of daemons come spring."
     "Then it is all the more important to recover this tome before
tomorrow evening," surmised Arahna. "How many of the Brotherhood are there
to assist in capturing Vastor?"
     "There is only Valon and myself," admitted Tuvron.  "The others will
likely not arrive until tomorrow evening at the earliest, and by then I
fear it will be too late to reach Vastor in time to prevent him from making
his diabolical transaction."
     "My companions and I could leave now and surely stop Vastor in time,"
Arahna pointed out.
     "I do not want outsiders involved in this," stated Tuvron.  This was a
matter for the Brotherhood and no one else.
     "But you yourself admit that the others of the Brotherhood may not
arrive in time.  My companions have proven themselves to be the most
trustworthy of those I know of outside the Brotherhood.  I trust them with
my life and more."
     Reclining in his chair pensively, he commented, "This is not a matter
to be lightly trusted to outsiders."  His eyes gazed unfocused into the
blazing fireplace.
     Letting a moment pass, Arahna observed, "You have very little to lose
by trusting them, fail or succeed, and everything to gain."
     "Our decisions judge our wisdom," whispered Tuvron.

                              -- 12/24/6067 --

     The ruins of the timeworn keep were surrounded by trees and buried
beneath a heavy layer of snow and ice.  The still-falling snow formed small
drifts about the aged fortification, concealing much of the crumbling
stonework.  There seemed to be little more to the keep than the first
floor, as most of the second floor was too damaged to be habitable, though
whether from time or some unnamed battle it could not be determined.
     The snowy landscape was broken only by eight sets of tracks that
cautiously approached the keep from all directions and gathered at the
only visible entrance: a badly patched timber door which had certainly seen
better days.
     At the front of the group, Tibulus commented quietly, speaking from
years of practical adventuring experience, "I can make out no guards
anywhere.  So if there are any, they will be inside, avoiding this weather.
So it would be best to simply charge in and take them by surprise, and hope
that there are no traps directly inside this door."  After all, it usually
worked.  Usually.
     As the others accepted this tactic, Tibulus sheathed his sword and the
others prepared to charge in after the bard had forced the door.  Tibulus
slammed his shoulder into the door, wincing at the pain, having always
hated this part of adventuring.  He slammed into the door again, sprawling
flat on his face as the weakened door splintered and gave way with little
resistance.
     In the room beyond the remains of the door, three massive humanoids
nearly ten feet tall stood facing the companions, having been alerted to
their visitors by Tibulus's first try to force the door.  Directly behind
Tibulus, Graynyr had not the chance to notice more than this when a red
figure shot through the air past him.  The figure, Arahna, slammed feet
first into the lead humanoid, knocking it backwards into the room.  But
this violent move was not without cost, for the creature slammed the blade
of its relatively short spear into her side, slashing a deep wound in her
flesh.  But the martial artist was back on her feet in an instant,
defending herself.
     By this point, Graynyr was pressing the opening Arahna had created.
He struck the second of the large humanoids with his enchanted longsword,
dealing it a savage wound.  In return for this, he received a glancing glow
to his left shoulder from the creature's club.  Fortunately, this attack
left Graynyr an opening allowing him to finish off the humanoid.  Turning
to the others, he found Arahna finishing off the first creature, while
Evrin stood over the remains of the third.
     A quick accounting of the situation proved Tibulus to be fine, except
for having a bruised shoulder and an even more bruised pride, and Evrin had
dispatched the third humanoid without the slightest of scratches.  A quick
prayer from Gael served to remove the effects of the wound on Graynyr's
shoulder.  As for the spear wound in Arahna's side, it had ceased its
bleeding and looked to require little need of healing, perchance a function
of the warrior-maiden's exceptional self-control learned from her training
as a member of the Brotherhood of the Golden Twilight.
     While she maintained that she had no need of any curative magics, she
also turned the attention of the others to these nine and ten-foot tall
humanoids, inquiring as to what manner of creatures they might be.  "I have
not seen such creatures as these before in my life," Arahna added.
     "What, these?" grumbled a somewhat pride-wounded Tibulus.  "They're
just ogres, through that one of Graynyr's looks as if it is one of the
largest I've ever seen."
     Arahna's eyebrows raised in mild amazement.  "These are ogres?  I had
heard tell that ogres were powerful opponents."
     Tibulus sniffed in disdain.  "They're strong, but that is all ogres
have going for them.  They have no real skill in battle, relying mostly on
their strength.  But when they do hit you, it is almost always a severe
wound, even on the greatest of warriors."
     At this point, Dwarkin intervened, placing a hand on the adventuresome
bard's arm, saying, "Friend Tibulus, I do not belive that this is the time
to hold a philosophical discussion on the combat skills of various humanoid
races."
     "There may be more ogres down here," Tibulus pointed out, ignoring the
grey elf's sarcasm.
     "If there are, we shall attend to them as chance permits," returned
Dwarkin without blinking.  "But for now, I believe it is safe to assume
that Vastor is aware of our presence in his abode, and that he is therefore
either preparing to challenge us or flee."
     "Vastor will not flee," pronounced Arahna with great certainty.  "His
personality is dominated by his arrogance and lust for power, and he has
too much to lose if he flees.  He will fight us with all of his power, no
matter now overwhelmed he is."
     "You seem certain of that," commented Torina.  Personally, she doubted
anyone could be stupid enough to not flee when facing overwhelming odds.
     "Of course," Arahna shot back, "Vastor is of the Brotherhood." When
one of the Brotherhood was set to a task, he would fulfill it, even if it
cost him his life.  To Arahna, it was obvious that Vastor Naasht would
behave in this manner.  He was a member of the Brotherhood of the Golden
Twilight, and that is what he was.
     "But he is a renegade and a fugitive from your Sentinels," Torina
pointed out.  As such, she doubted Vastor would bother with the laws and
customs of Arahna's Brotherhood.
     "He is of the Brotherhood," Arahna reaffirmed, more than a touch of
anger present in her voice.  She would not lightly take a slight to the
Brotherhood.
     Torina remained silent, recognizing that Arahna would not accept that
there was no dictating how Vastor would react to their presence in his
abode.
     "In any case, we are cornering him in his liar, where all creatures
are at their most dangerous," Graynyr added from his own experience at
tracking and hunting dangerous animals, making an attempt to divert the
subject of the conversation.
     "Then let's get on with this before he has a chance to ready too many
defenses," remarked Evrin.  The grey elf had not been eager to track down a
renegade human, despite the need to prevent the powerful book of magics
from falling into the hands of the minions of the underworld.  He did not
relish hunting people down, especially humans.  It had been the ancient
hatred between light and dark elves which had motivated him to join up with
Dwarkin in the first place.  Although his elven prejudice against other
races was wearing away with all of the time he was spending with non-elves,
Evrin still had no interest in doing their dirty work for them.
     Evrin's sentiment was echoed, though somewhat more enthusiastically,
by most of the others in the party.  Towards this end they set about
quickly searching the two adjoining rooms to the entrance chamber, spending
little effort in searching the one room that was obviously the bedchamber
for the ogres.  The other door from the foyer led into a sort of lounge or
sitting room.  They split up and quickly searched the room for anything of
consequence to their quest.
     Torina set to quickly searching the coats hanging from some pegs next
to the door.  The pockets of the outer wear contained nothing more than the
odd piece of fluff.  However, Torina did notice a heavy scarf and hat which
would be quite useful with the current weather conditions.  She stuffed her
own lighter scarf in her pack and wrapped the long scarf around her neck,
feeling a pleasant sense of warmth suffuse her body.  Perhaps it had an
enchantment of warmth?
     She considered this as she tried on the felt hat.  When she fitted the
hat on her head, it seemed to shrink to exactly fit her skull, while a
faint tingling sensation passed across the nape of her neck.  But the
tingling passed and she thought nothing of it, her attention drifting
elsewhere.
     Meanwhile, the others were quickly rifling the rest of the room.  The
sitting room, however, was only modestly appointed and held nothing of
value to them until Tibulus lifted up a weird statuette from an end-table.
The statuette was of some unidentifiable stone which had alternating layers
of black and deep blue, while its warped and convoluted shape was utterly
recognizable.
     The bard commented to the others, "I've no idea what this thing is
supposed to be, but I have seen this type of stone before.  A wizard of my
acquaintance once showed me some, saying that it is very common in the
underworld, particularly on certain layers of the Abyss."
     This only served to add more evidence the suggestion that Vastor had
ongoing relations with beings from the netherworld.  As such, he would
likely have something to do with the demonic invasion they had been chosen
to fight against.
     Their search of the room took relatively little time whatsoever,
considering that there were eight of them to search.
     As she finished, Gael noticed Torina wandering aimlessly around the
room.  She asked of Torina, "Did you find anything?"
     "Find what?" echoed the wood elf, seemingly confused by the complexity
of the question, which was surprising for one of her intelligence.
     "Did you find anything that might be useful to us?" clarified the
priestess, wondering what had gotten into the elf.
     With Gael's question now much clearly stated, Torina bubbled over
enthusiastically about the scarf and hat she had found.
     This sudden childish excitement on the part of the wood elf elicited
some surprised glances from her companions.  This was a radical change from
the noble and serious elf familiar to them.  This prompted Kasendra to
inquire of Torina if she were feeling quite well.  The red-haired elf
maiden responded in the affirmative, although she did appear somewhat
confused by the question.  Dwarkin pointed out this sudden and remarkable
change in Torina's behavior, to which she responded that she had no desire
to act as she used to do, that she wanted to have fun instead of spending
all of her time in dreary study.
     Tibulus cursed, pointing out, "She must have tripped one of Vastor's
wards."
     "Some manner of behavior changing magic?" conjectured Dwarkin, trying
to think of any popular spells which might cause this form of behavior.
     "Possibly," muttered the bard, before he chanted a short spell.  One
of his eyebrows rose slightly, and he said, "The hat and scarf have
enchantments cast upon them, although those imbued in the scarf appear more
of a protective nature.  That hat, however, could well be cursed."
     "Would removing the hat also rid her of this curse, assuming that is
what it is?" asked Dwarkin.
     At these words, Torina made a protesting sound and pulled the hat
tighter onto her head with both hands, which served to only make her look
all the more childish, shouting, "You leave my hat alone!  It helps me to
think."
     Responding to Dwarkin's query, Tibulus said, "Removing the hat would
likely do nothing, since the curse is in affect."  After a moment of
growing recognition, he continued, "This does remind me of one instance
when an old travelling companion of mine put on a cursed hat.  Though he
did not act in this manner, the curse reduced his intellect to the point
where he was incapable of working his magics."
     After another, longer pause, Dwarkin prompted, "How did you remove the
curse?"
     Letting out a deep sigh, Tibulus replied, "We did not.  He was slain
before the chance arose to try to remove the curse."
     "I grieve with you," uttered Dwarkin consolingly.
     "I have enough grief.  Many, too many of my old companions have
perished to leave any use to grieving."  Then he changed the subject away
from painful memories, saying, "But as for the curse, a spell from a
powerful enough mage should suffice to remove it."
     Having listened to this conversation in silence thus far, Gael spoke
up to these two spell casters, saying, "Perchance the power of Poseidon
will serve to remove this curse in lieu of a mage."  With that, Gael
stepped over to the elf maiden, who was regarding Tibulus and Dwarkin with
some suspicion as they discussed her and her new hat.
     At Gael's approach, Torina clutched her hat all the tighter, warning
the priestess, "You can't have my hat!  I found it.  It's mine!"
     "I don't want your hat," Gael reassured her, placing a comforting hand
on the elf's shoulder.  "You can keep your hat if you want."
     But Torina did not believe the priestess.  She tore away from Gael's
grasp, shouting, "I don't believe you!  You just want to steal my magic
hat."
     "I don't want your hat," said Gael truthfully, trying to convince the
elf of her honesty.  After all, Gael certainly did not want a cursed hat.
     "You're lying," asserted Torina in complete distrust, "you want my
hat.  I heard them say so!"  The elf started to reach for the hilt of her
sword.  At this gesture, the others in the party automatically tensed.
     Gael realized that she was not going to be able to get close to the
elf to attempt to remove the curse.  Taking hold of the sea shell pendant
about her neck, Gael invoked the power of her god, calling to Torina in an
authoritative voice, "By the Trident of Poseidon, I command thee to halt!"
     Upon hearing these words, the elf maiden stopped and stood unmoving.
Gael strode up to Torina and pulled the embroidered black hat from the
elf's head and cast it to the ground.  Then, placing her hands on either
side of Torina's head, Gael commenced a further invocation of Poseidon to
rid Torina of the curse the hat had placed upon her.
     In perhaps half a minute, the strange look fled from Torina's eyes and
Gael stepped back.  Torina looked down at the hat and started to blush
fiercely in embarrassment.  She could barely believe the way she had acted,
even knowing that it had been caused by magic.  She had learned self-
control when she had been learning her own magical skills.  Her discipline
had always been something which she had prided herself at having.
     Now, to have her self-control shattered like this was a real shock, as
well as an embarrassment.  To her companions she started a stumbling
apology for her actions and the trouble that she had caused them.  She felt
like an utter fool in allowing herself to fall under the baleful influence
of the cursed hat.
     Gael stemmed off this apology, pointing out that Torina had been under
the influence of the curse, and that it could have happened to any of them.
     Then Dwarkin put in that they were wasting too much precious time and
that they must be getting on with the search for Vastor.  For now, they
must set this aside -- any apologies would have to wait until later.
Torina agreed with this recommendation quite readily, since she wanted to
completely forget about this entire incident, even though she was aware
that she would likely never be able to do so, however much she might wish
it to be so.  At the least, this experience would serve to make her more
careful in the future that this might never happen again.
     Following the druid's recommendation, they turned their attention to
the door exiting the parlor and the hallway which lay beyond it.  They were
now certainly going to be more aware of any more wards placed by Vastor for
the unwary.  Torina paused only long enough to pick up the cursed hat and
stuff it into one of her pouches: it could come in handy in the future, and
she was getting a wicked idea of just how she might make use of it.