Challenging the Bandit Queen (20 Dec 2001) Thomas and friends head into the woods to challenge the bandits and their leader.

Deep in the Golden Woods
The Golden Woods grow thicker here, so that it becomes difficult to tell where one tree starts and the other ends. Here, the giant trees grow close enough that their branches tangle with one another, and a thick layer of snow coats the leaves above so that stars appear only momentarily, tiny pinpoints in the darkness above. It has been said that walking in the deep Golden Woods is like walking through a cathedral of trees, but here the cathedral feels old and dusty and all the lights have been put out, save for the few solitary candle flames of wills-o'-the-wisp, greenish things that flit over the frost-covered ground from one tree trunk to another.

Though the Holy Grail is said to have the power to banish the Dark Witch's illusions, Thomas has decided to be sparing in its use. Simon carries the Grail in an ornately carved box, and goes accoutered for war in a bronze breastplate and leather fittings, a sword slung over his back, a break from his usual motley clothes of garish colors. Rachel and Hannah accompany Thomas as well, dressed in dark colors and ready for battle in their own ways.

The illusions so far have not been overly difficult: there was one time that Thomas felt wind whipping past his face and stopped, and when he felt the ground with his toe, he found that illusion had been placed to cover a gully that would have resulted in a painful fall. There were monsters of a fearful nature that roared and snarled, but again the wind was Tom's ally, for where their claws split the air but there was no gust to accompany them, he knew them for false. And when there was simply a confusion of paths, so many choices that he knew not which way to go, it seemed to him as if a tiny sigh of wind would give him guidance.

It is the darkest hours of the night, and the shadows have never seemed so impenetrable as they are now to the hooded lanterns that Thomas and his friends carry, so that they can barely see ten feet ahead of them. The trail is distinguishable from the ground only in that here the brittle frost is thinnest where it has coated the ground after many feet have passed by, and elsewhere, the ice is thick enough to hide the ground in whiteness.

And there is, from ahead, a woman crying out, "Help! Help! Oh, help, if there is anyone out there!" Growls and snarls accompany her voice.

"Someone's in trouble," Simon says, looking worried as he casts about for the source of the sound, then pointing ahead. He looks about to charge ahead to the rescue.

Thomas's hand moves to rest lightly on the hilt of the sword strapped to his left side. "Stay your actions, Lefallon. Now, think on this: how could a lady be this far out in these woods, far from civilization? I suppose an argument could be made that perhaps she was kidnapped, but I'm not very certain that would be the case. I more expect either an illusion or a monster that can mimic a lady; I've encountered such before," he explains, stone-faced. "We can check it out, but we move very slowly and quietly. Understood?"

Simon frowns. "But..." He nods, and follows Thomas's lead.

Rachel moves carefully on the slick ice of the path, the rough treads of her over-the-knee leather boots helping her keep her footing. She wears a thick, fur-lined wool cloak over a jerkin of tough leather, and a leather cap, both offering her some protection, should the stealth of the party fail them. Her pale face looks drawn, eyes narrowed at the screaming, and she nods her agreement with the Lord Explorer's choice. She looks to one side, plotting out a course with her eyes that will take her closer to the source of the screaming, without leaving the cover of the trees.

"I don't like the thought of some poor soul in danger either, but keep in mind where we are," Thomas replies reassuringly to his friend. "We'll check it out, but carefully. I think only one of us should go and scout it. I'll go, unless anyone would rather go." He then looks at the trees, trying to determine if there are any he can scale.

The nearest tree has a dark bark that flakes off to show golden underbark where something has banged against it in the past, around waist level. It is rough enough to be scaled by someone clever, provided that the obvious handholds here don't run out higher up ... but the first branches start some fifty feet up, meaning a great amount of free climbing.

The raven-haired woman shutters her lantern by reflex, then follows Thomas's gaze up one of the trees. "If you can scale it quietly," she says, "it'll be best for you to go. No other among us can climb so well as you, Lord Explorer."

Hannah regards the tree herself for a few moments, pulling her cloak more tightly around her. "I could possibly climb it, but only if the wind didn't pick up to take me out of it again. Perhaps it would be best if you go, Lord Thomas."

Thomas hmms softly and says, "Something has been this way. Curious." He then nods to Rachel and says, "I'm thinking we might want to get a quick eye-in-the-sky view of the area and see if anything looks to be an obvious trap." The explorer sets his lantern down and pops his knuckles quietly. "I'll give it a shot," he says to Hannah and Rachel and heads over to the tree to attempt a climb.

Simon nods. "All right, we'll keep an eye out, milord." Following Rachel's lead, he shutters his lantern as well.

Rachel nods to Thomas. While he starts up the tree, she peers at the scrape mark on it, and looks for signs of an animal or other tracks in the snow -- though in the poor light, she has little hope of seeing anything more.

Hannah takes her cue from the others, and shutters her own lantern while Thomas attempts the climb.

As Tom scales the tree, some forty feet above the ground, the wind picks up at just that moment, singing past him, pressing him so that he is hard put for a moment to keep his grip on the soft bark, and for a moment, he must think of whether there is enough snow on the ground to give him a soft landing, or whether he would break instead ... and then as his flailing hand reaches out, he manages to catch just the tiniest hold on a sheet of loose bark, but it is enough; he pulls himself in, as the piece falls away, and grabs hold of the tree again. His position is secure for now.

The cries continue. "Oh, help! They will lower me at sunrise and they will feed me to the wolves! Help, if anyone is out there!" wails the faraway maiden. There is more growling.

Hannah's head snaps around in the direction of the cries, but she holds her place -- although she does put her hand on the hilt of her own weapon, just in case.

Thomas lets out a long breath. "Is this a good idea? Probably not," he says, then grins. "Of course, that's why I'm doing it," he adds and returns to climbing, green eyes narrowed in concentration.

At the continued pleas for help, Rachel frowns. Her eyes scan the forest around them, ears straining to catch any noises other than those of the captive woman.

With more care taken this time that his handholds are secure, Thomas manages to reach out and grab onto the lowest branch. It would be thick enough to make a tree itself in any ordinary forest, but here, it's only a little branch that stretches out and past other branches of other trees in the Golden Woods. It would be wide enough and strong enough to walk on, were one to risk the feat.

Simon looks up, trying to find Tom in the branches of the tree. Without light however, even though his eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness, it's a doomed attempt in so thick a canopy as the forest boasts. "Hope he's doing okay up there," he mutters to Rachel and Hannah. "I'd feel better if I were able to see him, but if I can't, maybe they can't either."

Thomas reaches up and pulls himself up onto the branch. He pauses to orient himself; locating the direction in which the screams were heard. He even considers walking on the branch for a moment, but instead decides that crawling along the branch would prove safer due to the winds. So, he starts to move out and along the branch, toward the cries.

"I hope he can see whatever's holding that supposed captive," Rachel whispers back to Simon. "If they don't have more lights about them than we do, he's not likely to have much luck."

The cries continue, helping to guide Tom to a branch where he can see everything from a good vantage point, and in fact, there are some torches planted in the ground to cast light on the situation. Below is an incredible sight: a damsel in a wickerwork cage suspended over an earthen pit in which wolves are prowling. The cage hangs from a branch some distance away and separated by a short jump from the branch on which he himself sits; it is suspended by a rope-and-pulley arrangement anchored on a fallen branch that is thick enough to be a tree in any ordinary forest; this arrangement also controls a rope that could be used to pull the cage to the side. Beyond that, Tom glimpses the smoldering of campfires, illuminating a tiny bandit camp, but there is no sign of activity within.

Thomas peers down at the cage, trying to get a glimpse of the person inside and her body-language. "Could be a real trap, or could be a lure. Might just be another bandit. Perhaps they take turns luring those to their doom," he considers.

From this point of view, it seems as if there's a shadow or two that don't belong around the anchor, as if the fallen branch were sitting on something dark. It's hard to make out the woman inside the cage; she's reaching out toward the edge of the clearing, as if imploring a traveler back the way that Tom had come. "Help! Please, won't someone help me?" she cries out.

Rachel huddles inside her cloak, gazing at the dark sky above for some trace of Tom. She folds her arms together beneath the thick wool, a grim scowl on her face at the captive's continued cries. "She's got good lungs, I'll give her that," she murmurs to Simon and Hannah.

Hannah gives Rachel a ghost of a smile at this, but she nervously tightens her hand around the grip of her rapier.

Simon looks torn. "It ... I'm sworn to help those in need," he says to Rachel plaintively. "I can't stand by and do nothing."

At Simon's distress, Rachel offers him a consoling smile. "Don't worry. Didn't she say they were going to lower her at dawn? We've got time yet. Wait for Lord Thomas's signal." She keeps her voice to a whisper, letting the noise of the captive woman cover it.

Thomas takes a deep breath. "Can't believe I'm going to do this, but," he thinks, then jumps from the branch he's sitting on towards the one suspending the rope.

There almost isn't enough time to be worried in mid-air, before Tom's wrapped himself around the other branch, which is a good foot and a half thick -- solid and not likely to break. Success! The wind picks up, biting hard against his exposed hands and face.

Thomas hangs onto the branch for a moment, calming himself down. He then shimmies along the branch until he's right above the pulley. Once there, he peers over the edge and notes which way the rope they use to pull the cage away from the pit goes. He then reaches his arms around the branch and attempts to get a grip on the rope.

And with a start, the Explorer finds ... there is no rope! His hand passes through the illusory pulley and the rope that ought to be suspending the cage. Fortunately, this discovery does not startle him enough to lose his grip on the branch, because from here, looking straight down, he has an excellent vantage point on the pit of hungry wolves beneath.

"Nice illusion," he mutters with a smirk. "Back the way I came," he comments, and shimmies back along the branch. Once he's back in a decent position, he takes a deep breath and attempts to leap back to the other branch so he can get back to his friends.

Though the wind is perilous, Thomas has no trouble making the leap. From there, he is able to retrace his path back down....

Agonizing minutes pass, but at last the form of Thomas can be seen making his way back down the tree. Once he's a few feet from the ground, he pushes off and lands with a quiet crunch in the snow. "It's an illusion. I made it over to where the rope was suspended, only to find the rope didn't exist. Trap," Thomas explains to the others. "So, Simon, calm yourself and save that energy for the real enemy. There does appear to be an encampment ahead. Probably bandits."

"I was wondering that she had not screamed herself hoarse by now," Rachel murmurs to Tom, with a nod to the continued crying of the supposed "captive." "How large is the camp? Was there any sign of the witch?"

"Hard to say large the camp is," Thomas replies. "But there were some odd shadows up ahead near where the supposed rope was tied. I think someone is lying in wait for us. And no sign fo the witch, yet."

The woman's cries from afar continue, and Simon grimaces at the wailing. He adds to the questions, "You mean I've been getting all worried about nothing? And how could you tell it was an illusion anyway?"

Thomas turns to Simon and says, "Because, when I attempted to swing the cage and see if I could get moving so I could then cut it free, my hand went through the rope."

Simon's mouth forms a silent "Oh". "Right," he says and regains some of his usual grin.

"If I try to make a rough guess of how many bandits, twenty or so," Thomas says, looking back to Rachel. "Assuming two per campfire, that is. No movement in the camp that I could see. They may be out and about, or sleeping. Either way, we need to be quiet and wary."

Thomas hmms, then adds, "And considering that illusion seemed more real than the others, we may be getting close."

Rachel quirks an eyebrow, looking like she's wondering how Tom got to the rope to try to touch it, given the distance at which they can hear the cries, but she doesn't ask. Instead, she suggests, "Best if we avoid the whole area where you saw the captive, then. If it is a lure, that's the last place we want to be." She pauses, then adds, "Shall we split up to scout the perimeter? It is not the bandits themselves we seek."

Hannah's eyes narrow at Thomas's comment and she nods. "It sounds like it was an elaborate illusion, more so than anything we've encountered thus far. We may very well be getting closer to their source."

Thomas looks into the distance and considers Rachel's suggestion. "Normally I'd agree with that, but with these illusions I'm not so sure that would be wise. What if one of the up-coming ones is designed to make us see what we want to see? We might very well see the other party and walk right into a trap," he says, brow furrowed as he looks to Simon. "Like that one quest, remember? The one trap you almost fell for."

The dark-haired linguist glances from Thomas to Simon curiously. "What is this?" she asks.

Simon nods to Thomas, recalling it. "It was when I was in the Dark Woods on the path, when to turn off of it would have meant being lost forever, and I thought I saw Tom, right down to the life, Rachel. It was so him, to scoff at staying on the path when we could have been exploring." He looks down the trail. "Let's hope they're typical bandits, then they won't be too alert for people prowling around at night. Royal guards I'd be worried about, but they're only bandits, and they've been depending on illusions to protect them, and I guess --" He grins self-deprecatingly. "-- to give them warning if some do-gooder just falls right into their trap."

Hannah grins a little at Simon's explanation. "This must be one of those legends about the Lord Explorer I'm not familiar with," she says lightly.

"Of course," Rachel murmurs, smiling. "I remember now." She pauses, then continues, "Dishonest men do not trust others to be kind." Her brow creases in annoyance at the continued and rather monotonous, by now, lament from the illusory captive. "They'll have laid more traps, for men more like themselves. Lord Thomas is right -- we need to be wary."

Thomas chuckles. "Something like that, Hannah," he replies, nodding. "I suggest we simply stick together and avoid the area entirely. And typical bandits they may be, but it makes them no less dangerous, especially if they have a leader as formidable as the Bandit Queen was all those years ago. Anyway, let's get moving; we only have this night to conceal us."

Thomas kneels down and retrieves his lantern, then unshutters it. "We're going around. A long way around." He then heads carefully into the underbrush and starts to make the long arc around the clearing to avoid the illusion trap and whatever lies in wait.

According to the plan, Rachel follows quietly in Tom's footsteps -- literally placing her boots where he's already trod, to avoid possibly crunching in the snow or making new foot prints.

With his lantern carefully directed to illuminate only the underbrush, the Explorer makes his way into the underbrush, leading Simon, Rachel, and Hannah behind him. He is able to find a clear enough path that they can follow with no trouble, and from behind cover of bushes dusted with snowflakes that have made their way through the canopy, they can look into the clearing to see the illusory cage for themselves. From this angle, it becomes apparent that the illusion which makes up the anchoring log only partially covers a pit underneath ... and thin lines of shadow cross around it, presumably bell lines that would ring if someone crossed them.

Ahead, there is darkness ... though something about the way the wind and the ground feel to Tom suggests to him that the forest slopes up into a hill. Something bitter wafts past him, like smoke from something unpleasant burning.

"We're approaching a hill," Thomas whispers back to the others. He then hmms and sniffs the air, then comments, "And that's a nasty smell. I'm wondering if the witch has made her home in a hill and we're approaching it? Curious. What do the rest of you make of the odor? I think we should press on, slowing down just a bit."

"Perhaps it's some noxious enchantment the Dark Witch is brewing," Rachel murmurs. She peers at the ground ahead, through the light of the single lantern. "I suspect she'll have some kind of illusion to disguise the entrance to her lair," she whispers with a frown.

"Most certainly," Thomas agrees. "It could be just ahead of us, in fact," he says, expression grim. His free hand slips down to his sword-hilt.

Simon's nose-wrinkling is invisible. "I think the air's warmer," he whispers back. "If it's smoke off of the Witch's fire, though, I don't want to know what they've been burning."

Hannah whispers to the others, "If another illusion is waiting for us, then it may be as complex as the last one, if not more so."

"Could always be a dragon illusion," Thomas comments with a glance toward Simon. "You up to something like that?"

"I'm fine if it's an illusion, but I'll be extra-crispy if it's the real thing," comes a jesting reply.

"Anyway, let's press on," Thomas says and crouches a bit lower. He continues onward, pace slowed some. Each foot is extended out and tests the ground ahead before completing the step.

"There've been no dragons seen since Lady Knight Redmane slew the great dragon of the northwest mountains," Rachel whispers back to the others, trying to sound reassuring as she follows their leader.

Heading toward where he thinks there is a hill, Thomas's guess is quickly borne out: the ground does slope up, and gets steeper quickly. Crackling frost-covered grass becomes replaced by frozen dirt and rocks searingly cold to the touch. The campfires look to be down the hillside and past where they turned off, to some distance.

Simon looks up and around. With the trees rising on the slope of the hill, the night sky becomes visible in thin stripes of stars, but still there is a feeling of grave quiet hanging over the forest.

Rachel wrinkles her nose, and breathes in deeply. "The air's getting clearer," she whispers. "We must be moving away from the source of that stench -- and maybe the witch, if she's making it."

Thomas looks around slowly and carefully. "Or, perhaps that stench was a lure to pull us away from wherever the witch is. Associate bad smells with the witch and all that. A smell lure," he comments to Rachel. "Of course, I could be wrong. Most things here are guesswork now."

Hannah stops suddenly. She passes a hand across her forehead, then turns to the others. "Do any of you feel ... warm? Like you've passed through some sort of rush of hot air?"

Thomas turns to look at Hannah curiously. "No ... what exactly did you feel? When?" he asks, concerned.

"Scent is harder to deceive than sight ... and touch, hardest of all," Rachel murmurs to Tom, with a look at Hannah, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Looks like it's really dark out there. There isn't even a moon out," Simon comments. "Don't they say it's always darkest before the Dawn?" He blinks and looks over where Hannah's voice came from.

"Do you still feel it?" Thomas inquires.

Hannah frowns. "I felt it just a few moments ago, like I passed through a column of warm air. I think I could find it again, though...." She goes back to retrace her steps.

Turning, Rachel follows Hannah, as quietly as she can.

Thomas follows as well, eyes narrowed. His mind thinks over what could cause that. Chimney? Window? Is this her house we stand on?

Hannah takes a few slow paces back to where she just came from, concentrating on the feel of the air around her. Then she stops again. "Here. Right about here. It just feels ... warm."

Near where Hannah stands, a small rock outcropping sprouts from the ground. It seems to be the source of the hot air that she noted -- or rather, a gap between two stones is the vent. The pungent smell accompanies the hot air as well; where the lantern light passes through the invisible smoke, things seen through it waver as if a heat mirage.

"It appears we may have found a chimney," Thomas says with a rakish grin. "Good catch, Hannah," he says to the daughter of November. Thomas moves over close to the vent and kneels down, trying to listen for any sounds coming from below.

Hannah takes a half-step back from the aperture and studies it. "I think you are right," she says waving a hand in front of her nose. "The smell is stronger here, too."

Rachel crouches near the Lord Explorer, probing at the edges of the gap in the stones carefully with one gloved hand, testing to see if the felt dimensions match those that she sees.

The vent is about the size of a chimney, but winding, so Tom can see as he notices a faint glow from deep down. It smells horrible, as if someone were boiling a swamp, and he hears cackling, and a voice crooning, "Revenge, yesss, I'll have my revenge soon...."

Simon half-sits, so he's sitting on his heels and resting his arms on his knees. "Anything?" he whispers to Thomas and Rachel.

"We have the witch," Thomas says, brow furrowed. "She says something about revenge ... on what? The Golden Hawks? Why?" he whispers to the others. He then stands and says, "Okay, the door would likely be on the far side, away from the fireplace. That way it would be safe from a gust when the door was open. Also, less heat leakage that way. I have a plan, if people are up to it."

A determined smile forms on the dark-haired girl's face. "You have but to ask, my lord," she answers.

"You got it," Simon whispers.

Hannah nods to Thomas. "What do you have in mind?"

"Okay, here's my plan. Feel free to refute, argue, and suggest as you see fit," Thomas says. "We circle around this hill slowly and try to find the door. It'll probably take some time. My idea is, I go in. I try and act like I've caught her with a bit of bravado. I'm hoping I can get her to reveal why she's here and what her revenge is. Once we know what her plan is, I try to lure her out. All of you lie in wait for her. When she's visible, I want Simon to reveal the Grail to break her illusions and hopefully destroy her as well -- or at least weaken her. If that fails, we fight."

Thomas suddenly grins wickedly. "Or, I have another idea. We stop up the chimney and smoke her out," he says.

Rachel's grin answers Thomas's own. "I like the second plan. We can lie in wait for her to come investigate..." She makes a face. "... unless she decides to send one of her men to do it instead. Do you think she's alone?" The fey girl stops talking to listen at the chimney for sounds of other voices.

Hannah chuckles softly. "We might very well be able to plug up her chimney and chase her out, as awful as this stench is! I don't see how anyone could take it for very long in close quarters."

Simon frowns a bit. "It wouldn't be, well, fair ... but are we dealing with someone who'd play us fair if it were the other way around?"

"Well, the thought struck me that she's caused such a stink in these woods, it's only right we return the favor," Thomas says with a smirk. "I still think the rest of you should hide. One of us will appear non-threatening and more likely she'll reveal her plans."

Simon nods. "All right, but we should stay close, just in case."

"Of course. I want you close," Thomas agrees.

"I don't hear anyone else," Rachel says, after a few moments of listening. She rises from her crouch, and nods to Tom, looking about for a good hiding place, near enough to help if there's trouble.

"Spread out, triangularly if you can. Not sure which way she'd come from. Everyone, get out the sheets and give them to me; I'll use them to make a plug," Thomas says.

Simon sets down his pack long enough to extract a folded black sheet of linen and hand this to Tom. "Don't do anything too rash," he cautions before slinging his backpack up again and setting off to find a hiding place nearby; in his case, in the cover of several bushes close by, though unluckily, they're prickly enough that he might have a bit of trouble jumping out in a hurry.

The dark-haired fey tries one spot behind a small boulder first, but as she crouches behind it, she shakes her head -- the slope of the hill means the rock gives even less cover from behind. She sees Hannah duck into a seemingly shallow gully along the hillside, and disappear. With a wry smile, she moves to join November's daughter.

"You chose much better than I, Lady Hannah," Rachel whispers, settling beside the brown-haired girl to wait.

Thomas extracts the sheet he brought along and bundles that with the one Simon just handed him. He then carefully starts fitting it into the chimney to stop the airflow. "Let's see if she likes the stench she pollutes the forest with," he mutters softly. He then leans up against the chimney and waits, trying to look nonchalant.

Hannah nudges Rachel gently with one elbow. "Merely a stroke of good fortune, I assure you," she whispers back with a smile.

Pretty soon, there is no feeling of heat save for that which had already escaped into the air. Seconds pass by slowly.

Thomas crosses his arms in front of himself. His fingers tap slowly against the leather bracers he wears. "Come on, come on," he mutters impatiently, realizing it may take some time to work, if it does at all.

When the witch does emerge, the illusion that hid her entrance becomes surprisingly obvious: merely another patch of hillside farther down, facing toward the bandit encampment, which suddenly becomes a dimly fire-lit cave entrance -- except that from this vantage point, Tom can make out just a hint of a pit just within the cave entrance, which hints that those who'd found themselves overly proud of piercing one illusion might fall to the next one in. A stooped-over figure walks slowly out of the cave entrance and turns her gaze up the hillside, though from this distance, it is difficult to make out more than that. Heat-mirage shimmer makes her silhouette waver.

Thomas shifts himself a bit, trying to blend in enough with the chimney to bring her further up the hill. He takes in a slow breath and prepares himself for the confrontation.

While they wait, Rachel unslings the crossbow she took from Hawksmoor Keep, and cranks the mechanism back with even motions, then loads it in preparation for their quarry.

Hannah glances sidelong at Rachel when she moves to take up her crossbow, then nods to herself. Silently, she eases her rapier out of its scabbard then holds it at the ready.

Thomas steps from behind the chimney, green eyes narrowed. One hand rests on the hilt of his sword, the other upon his hip. The light breeze blows his raven hair slightly, causing a few strands to fall in front of one of his eyes. "Your reign of terror is over, witch. Whatever revenge you sought will not come to pass. You have haunted the lands I sore to protect long enough," he says firmly, trying to sound overly impressive and sure of himself.

The raven-haired girl flashes a quick smile to Hannah as the other draws her sword, then lifts the crossbow to rest the butt against her shoulder. Barely raising her head over the edge of the gully, she tracks the candle-bearing figure slowly, ready to duck if the other chances to look her way.

"Hsst, I sense he is near-- you!" The Dark Witch is incredibly old from what Tom can see, her face lined and sunken, her teeth yellowed and crumbling as she speaks. "It is impossible! My master spoke of you as gone from Mirari, gone forever! And yet, you look as if you have not aged even a Month. You have lost none of your beauty, Thomas." There is something hauntingly familiar about her voice.

"Gone for a time, perhaps; but not forever," Thomas replies, firm. He takes a step forward to get an even closer look and asks, "We've met before, haven't we?"

The Dark Witch cackles humorlessly. "Aye, twice we've met before when I was the Bandit Queen, Lord of Wood and Stream: once when you promised me you'd ne'er track me and mine nor aid in bringing me down, an' I spared thine companions and followers for all time. Once again when I saw you in company of Sir Lefallon, whom I shall hate forever for laming me and unfitting me to life as the Queen of Bandits-- hsst! He is nearby, isn't he?"

She leans forward and her breath carries to Thomas with the odor of decaying meat. "And now I find you here again, when I have finally mastered the Dark Arts my master has given me, and gone to extend the Dark Woods' dominion. Have you come to track me down after all? What are you, Thomas-- True Tom, or Oathbreaker Tom?"

From the lee of their hidden cleft in the hillside, Rachel opens her mouth in a soundless "Oh," restraining a gasp of surprise at the Dark Witch's words.

"But you haven't spared my followers, have you? You've attacked them and imprisoned them. I came, because someone threatened those I left behind -- the only family I have left here," Thomas says firmly. "Who has broken the oath, then? Or then have we mutually done it? You have threatened my followers. You have attacked my fortress. Had these not been my people and had I known who was behind it, I would not have come. I do not violate my word."

Simon, lurking in the bushes nearby, draws in a breath at this revelation. He looks anxiously over to Thomas, hands on a carved wooden box.

Beside Rachel, Hannah's face darkens with anger at the Witch's words and at Tom's reply. Her knuckles go white around the hilt of her rapier.

The Dark Witch staggers back, and the lantern drops from her right hand as she clutches at it, the glass shattering against rock, the candle guttering out so quickly that the sight lingers of her hand decaying as if it were truly dead, and not merely attached to someone who ought to be. "But-- you were gone! A dead man can have no followers!"

Looking like she wants to curse, Rachel rubs at her eyes, trying to clear the after-images of the now-extinguished flame from her eyes, so that she can pick out her target from the dark hillside. Blinking furiously, she tries to keep the crossbow trained on her by the sound of her voice.

Thomas unshutters his lantern and continues. "If I was dead, if I was gone, I could not be here now. When I said I never violate my word, I meant it. For, before I left, I swore to my friend, Randall, that one day I would return, and here I stand. I may not have been here in person but they still followed my dream. A little girl named Hannah left her family because of me, to follow in the adventures I had," he replies, voice strong and firm.

At these words, Hannah quietly lifts her head just enough to peer over the edge of the gully. Her eyes fix on Thomas and the Witch, and she waits to hear what will come next.

Now that the truth is known, and the light from Thomas's lantern once again plays over the Dark Witch, it can be seen that she could indeed have once been the Bandit Queen, who was a large woman but now is stooped over, face scourged by the results of hundreds of alchemical experiments. Her right hand is folded up claw-like, but she holds it forth nonetheless. "Now I know you're still alive, aye, I'll do no harm to yours, but it matters not to me what yonder bandits do with the illusions I craft," she hisses spitefully. "Will you go mild as a lamb then, Thomas? Or will you try to make your little sword do the work of fifty? You could go among them as they sleep, and cut their throats, you know."

"I could slay them, yes, but I will not. You know well enough I lived to learn about the people of this land -- to experience their lives, to see the world through their eyes. You will, however, leave my forest. You will take your bandits and go, never to return," Thomas says coolly. "Why is it you so willingly came to these woods? You knew the Golden Hawks dwelled here. Do you harbor such hatred of me now? And who is your master?"

Simon hisses to Thomas from his hiding place in the bushes, "She promised to me, too!"

Though the Witch could have made no sense of the whisper, still the sound draws her attention. She reaches for one of the many pockets that adorn her blood red-trimmed black robes.

Thomas starts to circle around, to put himself in between Simon and the witch. "If she wants to get to Simon, she goes through me," he thinks.

"Methinks we have rabbits lurking in the bushes, dear Thomas," the former Bandit Queen says sweetly. She takes out something that seems to writhe on her palm like a living snake of fire. "You won't mind if I flush them out? Rabbit for breakfast is such a treat. As for my Master, well, he has gone by many names, but I'll give none of them to you -- unless you'd care to join me for that breakfast of which I spoke."

"You do that and you harm one of my followers," Thomas warns the witch. "How is Jack, anyway?"

Rachel rises a little, to aim her crossbow more fully at the Witch's back as she turns to follow the moving Tom. She steadies the weapon, her eyes cold and steely as she watches, waiting. Loose that weapon, witch.., she thinks, hardening her resolve, ...and I'll loose mine.

The Dark Witch cackles, but stays her hand for the moment. "Better than you can ever imagine, old friend, he'll not feel the bite of Winter as we do, oh no. If he knew you were here, I am sure he would send his regards and his wishes to see you again. Though I misdoubt that you would see him, until it was too late."

"Oh, I will see him again. You can count on that. We have yet to finish our 'dance', after all," Thomas replies, expression calm and collected. "Sir Lefallon, please come out here," he then says.

Hannah's eyes widen as Thomas calls Simon out of his hiding place. I hope you know what you're up to, Lord Explorer, she thinks grimly.

Simon squirms out from beneath the bushes and comes to stand next to and slightly behind Thomas, box under one arm, his young face bearing a look of sternness.

At this sight, the Dark Witch trembles. "It is him! Tell me you do not claim him as a follower now, Thomas, and I shall be generous; I shall give you treasures and magic and much knowledge of the secret and arcane!"

Flexing her fingers on the grip of the crossbow, Rachel looks like she shares Hannah's thought. A look of disgust flashes over her face at the witch's pleading and offered bribes.

"He chose to follow me on my journey here. Only he can recant being my follower," Thomas replies with a shrug. "All he comes bearing is the truth. Does that frighten you so? Does he frighten you so? My, how you have fallen. I remember you as strong, determined. I admired you in a way back then. That's why I gave my word to you; even as a rogue, you had some honor. But now, look at you, kowtowed to the Jack of Hearts, nothing more than a weak puppet. Could you face the simplest thing as truth?"

The Dark Witch looks down ashamed, and then raises her clawed right hand as she looks up again, teeth clenched hideously as she spits the words out. "The truth was ... I could not bear to be a mere farm girl again, to yield up all mastery and submit to the will of mere lordlings. So I sought another kind of strength instead. How have I lived for Years, if not by my knowledge of alchemy? How can I cast my spell over the woods, if not for my powers of illusion? Show me the truth you would have me face, and I will show you a thing that lords hold over servants and claim as the reason to keep each in their own station!"

For a moment, Rachel's aim wavers as she targets the witch; then she steadies her hands again.

Simon, for his part, stands his ground in silence, apparently confident that Thomas is not about to sell him out for any of these treasures or secrets the Witch claims to possess.

"You could have come to the Golden Hawks, you know," Thomas replies. "If you were sincere in wishing to repent, you would have found welcome and a purpose there." He shrugs again. "As for lords, you know well enough I do not think much of that title. I've found more honor in a farmhouse than I've found in many a court. Their belief that they are above others is just another illusion. Actions, not titles, speak for a person."

"Hah! What power has a rootless wanderer?" boasts the Witch. "Better to be feared than fearful."

Thomas does a small bow and smiles. "What power does a rootless wanderer have? Look to the legends. Look to those who followed me. What power do we have? We have the power to inspire. The power to instill dreams and hopes in others. To show others the beauty in the world."

Hannah's gaze flickers to the ground for a few moments at these words of Thomas's. She then shakes her head, as if trying to clear it, and looks up again, her face a blank mask.

"And as for being 'fearful', consider this," Thomas adds. "I began my travels to destroy fears. To uncover the truth in the world. You only fear what you do not know."

"Show me this beauty of which you speak," the Dark Witch grates, her voice terrible as longing wars with the cruel command that she tries to emanate. Her right hand reaches out again as if she would gesture imperiously, but decayed as it is, it is more a vicious swipe of bone claws at empty air. "It is a thing for the weak."

"Beauty is in simplicity. It's in every rock, every stone, and every heart. It's in the light of truth ... Sir Lefallon, since she has requested, show her the beauty of truth you uncovered on your long quest, please?" Thomas asks, then steps back to allow room.

Simon, or rather, Sir Lefallon, nods gravely and opens the box. Even the first slit of opening radiates a powerful daylight-brilliant glow, banishing the flame serpent so that it disappears into a puff of smoke, and he continues to pull the lid off, until the Witch beholds the Grail in its full splendor. She falls to her knees, staring at it.

The wailing from the clearing, a distant murmur, vanishes as well. In the light from the Grail, the Golden Woods seem to reclaim the holy feel of the cathedral that they should possess, and even the snow turns radiant as if echoing the glow.

Thomas quietly drops to one knee in honor of the object he stands before. His green eyes look around the forest, seeing the change. A small smile creeps across his lips as he also feels the change. "Look around you. See the beauty in the world. See past the anger that blinded you and shrouded you in darkness," he says softly.

Hannah throws up a free hand to shield her eyes from the Light at first, but then lowers it as she becomes used to it. She gasps softly at the changes that are occurring all around her, gazing wonderingly.

The Dark Witch now seems only a harmless old woman, drawn in on herself as she wraps her arms tight and huddles in against herself. "No, it's not fair," she whispers. "I sensed it in the woods. That was why I came, for with it in my hands, I could brew an elixir that would make me young again, powerful enough to become a Witch Queen in the Wild Lands. Tell me the truth, Thomas! Is this how you and Sir Lefallon have stayed young over these many Years?" Her brief look of hatred turns to despair as she sees it is not true. "Give it to me! What need have you for it? Give it to me, and I will make you a king!"

"In truth, I do not know how I have remained young as the world aged around me. I do not understand why I have been spared the ravages of time. Perhaps my ties to the lands and the people of this world did it. Perhaps it was the belief others had in me, even when I lost myself," Thomas replies sadly. "I cannot give you what is not mine to offer. Nor would I ever want to be a king. My place is among the people, not above them. I am truly sorry for you, but you made the choices that brought you here today, in the shape you are in."

Rachel lowers her crossbow, and stands straight and unhidden before the light of the Grail. She lets the weapon rest loosely in her arms, quarrel pointed at the ground to one side of her.

Hannah stands with Rachel, but although she lowers her rapier, she does not sheathe it. Her hand clenches and unclenches around the grip in quick motions.

Simon says quietly, but with great certainty, "Milord, milady, the Grail is not a thing of power. It is a symbol of healing and redemption, and renewal. You may choose to be healed by it, or you may turn away and forever live your life in the shadows of what might have been."

The Witch turns her disbelieving eyes toward Thomas. "I... Would you see me live as a mere peasant, Thomas? I thought you saw something special in me ... when I was the Bandit Queen. When I made others believe in my power."

"That sort of power is fleeting," Thomas replies softly. "I did see something special in you; but it was not because of what you did or that you were a great fighter. You were determined, resolute, and strong inside. You believed in yourself. That is what I admired of you. I often wished you would have dedicated that strength in ways that would help others, not harm them. Anything you chose to live as, be it even a farmer would never have been described as 'mere'."

"Aye. So be it, I'll cast my lot here," the Witch says quietly, and for a moment, Tom can see the shadow of the strong woman she was once. "I'll have no one say I feared to take a sip of the elixir of the Grail."

Thomas walks over to Sir Lefallon and nods. He digs into his pack and pulls out the water skin he brought from the Keep. Carefully, lifts the Grail from the resting place within the box and pours some of the water from the water skin into it. Thomas then drops the water skin and pulls a worn mug from his pack. The Grail is then tilted, and a radiant golden liquid pours forth into the mug. Again with care, he returns the Grail to its resting place within the box and walks over to the Witch. He holds it out to her and says, "Then you shall drink and I pray you find the healing and hope you need."

The Witch drinks, head bowed so that a single black tear drops into the liquid. It seems that nothing has happened at first, but then as she looks up, it is palpable how quickly the years are slipping from her face. Her right hand begins to grow flesh within its papery-thin skin, and the skin turns from pale grey to a normal coloration. She draws in breath quickly as multiple cracks sound from her back, and then stands upright again, looming larger, and the hood of her cloak slips off to reveal her hair growing again from a short frazzled white to a clear ruddy gold. "Ah! This is... I am..." She blinks, the Bandit Queen again in appearance. "Aha! I live again! To breathe freely, to know no master, I did not know I lacked these 'til I had them back!" she says with a large grin.

She claps Tom on the shoulder, giving his mug back. "Fear not, I've learned my lesson this time, Lord of the Wood and Stream. As for you, Sir Lefallon...." Her eyes darken a bit. "I go forth from Mirari again. This time, I'll seek my fame and fortune in the Wild Lands. As boon, milords, you may have whatever you wish of that I leave behind in my cave -- if you can get to it before the bandits do, for I think they will be quick to poach what treasures there are when they see I've left my entrance unguarded."

"Thank you, Thomas. You have given me back myself again, and for that, I owe you a debt I can never repay." The former Bandit Queen, former Dark Witch takes no replies, but instead fades into the woods in a way that she must have learned from her former trade, quiet and stealthy.

Hannah comes towards Thomas and Simon, then looks back towards the bandits' camp with a worried glance. "Not to break the mood, everyone, but perhaps we should close the box that holds the Grail and leave before the Witch's henchmen arrive? Although its Light seems to have done something for her ..." Here Hannah gestures after the Witch fled and frowns. "... it may not do so well for a dozen brigands, charging at us angrily from out of the underbrush!"

Thomas doesn't reply to Hannah immediately. Instead, he simply watches the former Bandit Queen leave. He can't help but smile and mutter a farewell, knowing she won't hear him. He shrugs, then turns to the others and says, "Somehow, I expect I'll see her again someday." He then realizes what Hannah has said and nods, "A reasonable precaution, but I suggest we check the 'house' for any clues quickly. She was a servant of Jack, and any clues to him would be invaluable. We must hurry, then back to the Keep! We'll let the Royal Guard deal with bandits directly."

It was a tight situation sneaking down into the cave past the sleepily awakening bandits, especially with the pit that had to be crossed by a plank which seemed a little rickety, but there were indeed some interesting things to be found. By the time they'd turned about to make their way out, though, it was a little touch-and-go with some curious bandits that were exploring the hillside for the source of the false daybreak they'd seen earlier. It was with relief then that they made for the trail returning to Hawksmoor....

As the group makes their way back to the Keep, weary but elated by their success, the eastern horizon gradually lightens. When they enter the clearing around Hawksmoor, Rachel stops in her tracks to watch the lightening sky. As warm golden light spills across the land, it feels as though the source of the Grail's radiance was now revealed and bathing them all in its illumination. A beatific smile shines upon the pale face of the raven-haired girl, and she turns to the Lord Explorer. "Look, Thomas," she says, in her soft, accented tongue. "The Dawn. It is a new Day, my lord, for us all."

The sunrise colors the whole forest a majestic gold, with shimmers of red and orange rising through the skies. Rays of sunlight break through clouds visibly, as if they were breaking up before the power of this Dawn.

Thomas smiles back to Rachel. "It is indeed, Rachel -- a closure to an old story, and the beginning of a whole new one," he replies with a nod. "Even after the year of endless night, this forest still radiates the beauty I remember. Now more than ever, I feel there is a chance that such a new beginning also find its way to all of Mirari." He looks back at his friends and smiles as he runs his hand through his hair and says, "And thank you all for standing by my side through it. I couldn't hope for better friends."

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.