The Springs of Galon Annwn (13 Jun 2002) Tom, Sir Lefallon, Rachel and Agatha continue their quest to Galon Annwn.

Wastelands of Annwn
To the northwest runs a gulch that might once have been a riverbed, for many smooth stones line the center, and scrubby grass grows here and there along the bottom or along the edges, peeking over at where water flowed freely once. Strange rock formations dot the landscape which rises gently toward the hills ahead. Steam wisps from the ground in the far distance, causing the farthest features of the earth to shimmer like mirages, but overhead the sky is a peerless blue, with not a cloud to be seen.

"Fine, but we won't kill you. You raped this land; the land will get its justice. We'll strip you down to your undergarments and stake you out here to die slowly from thirst -- like the curse you've helped continue on this once beautiful place. The pain you inflict, so shall you reap." The words hang in the cold, dry air, as if they had frozen there.

The lone survivor of the water-mages that had pursued Thomas's party returns a silent sneer. He is a tall, thin man with bone-pale skin and white hair, and his face is lined in cruel fashion; his black robes enfold him but his hands are plainly in view, and he makes no move to attempt to escape -- Wise, for Lady Redmane has a blade close enough to him that he can feel it is made of biting iron, and not Mirari silver.

Thomas stands, expression cold and unreadable. He then momentarily looks to Agatha's sword and steps away. He folds his arms over his chest and says, "We are at war. You have apparently chosen to side with the Destroyer, and therefore forfeit any form of mercy. Repent from his ways now, and live -- choose to stay with him, and die."

Agatha raises her eyebrows at the speech, but keeps quiet and watches the reaction of the water wizard.

The water-mage laughs. "Repent of what? Serving my order and my master? I think not." He looks up as if daring Thomas to carry out his threat.

Thomas merely shrugs, replying, "As you choose, then." He walks over to his horse and fetches his rope. He begins uncoiling it and looking about the area for a place to tie the man down.

"Thomas ... " Rachel looks between Agatha and the Lord Explorer, her voice carrying an unspoken plea.

"If he's still alive by the time we come back this way, I say we should bring him back to Caer Sidi to face justice with his brothers," Agatha suggests, keeping her sword within easy striking distance of the wizard.

"He would have killed us without another thought about it, Rachel. Were he free, he'd try again," Thomas says calmly.

Sir Lefallon watches with a look of unease and morbid fascination, and then jolts out of it as Thomas moves for rope. "Uh, maybe we should just kill him and have done with it," he suggests. "He might escape, or someone might let him free...."

"We could also bring him with us," Agatha says, offering another option. "Send him ahead to test for traps and such."

"Too simple, Sir Lefallon. I want him to have many long hours to think on where his choice of life has left him," Thomas answers, then tests the rope for strength, then looks at Agatha. "And who's to say he'd proclaim there are no traps, to lure us right into one? I suspect he knows all about the location were we are headed."

Rachel shoots the red-headed girl a grateful look, then winces at Thomas's dismissal of the idea. "My lord," she starts again, softly.

The water mage raises an eyebrow. "And where are you going?" he inquires, as if there were any doubt about the answer.

Thomas looks at Rachel and says, "Look into his eyes -- He's not worth your sympathy." He then glances toward the mage and comments, "Galon Annwn, which should be obvious enough."

"Why, I have never been there," Emilio says nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the deadly iron blade. "But I am told reliably enough that it is a place of haunts and that those who go there do not return. Perhaps you should reconsider your destination, boy." He laughs quietly, a mocking sound, as he awaits his fate.

"It is not him for whom I am concerned, Thomas," Rachel says, her words almost lost in the water mage's.

Agatha frowns in thought. "There could be more black robes coming when these don't show up back in town you know. Leaving him here could just be leaving him to be rescued by them."

"Haunts? How appropriate, I'm practically the walking 'dead' as it is. And boy I may appear, but I am far older than you," Thomas comments, then looks to Rachel, brow furrowed curiously.

"We go to a holy place, Thomas, a place of the Lord, however defiled his kind may have rendered it. If we are to cleanse it ... " Rachel's voice trails off.

"We can tie him to his saddle," Agatha says. "I'd rather have him along to see the end of his order, or die watching us fail, than to leave him here for his comrades to collect."

Thomas takes in a slow breath, considering. "Your points are well made. While the land deserves justice for the damage done to it, perhaps his slow death is not the way," he says at last, then points at the mage. "You, get up," he says forcefully.

The water mage smiles. "And if I choose not to, Thomas? Will you have the fiery-haired lady prod me with her sword? If it is death one way and death another, I hardly see why I should stir myself."

"Well, you may have a chance to watch us die horribly before you succumb if you get up," Agatha says sweetly to the prisoner.

"A point," Emilio says, laughing, though his eyes suggest he would indeed enjoy that very much as he looks sideways at Thomas.

Thomas almost says something, then smirks at Agatha's comment. "Then get up and you just might get to see that. I'm no stranger to death. I've looked it in the eyes before," Thomas replies.

The travelers bind Emilio's hands behind him, then tie him to his horse and secure it so that it would follow theirs. With Rachel ready to shoot him the moment that she thinks he was attempting a spell, they begin their travel once again, riding up the winding stairs cut into the cliffs by some long ago people, stairs so wide and large that a parade could easily have been driven up the same route.

Galon Annwn
Once when the water ran freely down these rocks, the falls of Galon Annwn must have been majestic, but now that they are long since dried, they are merely deeply cut channels, scored with eroded rocks here and there, and the parched earth that borders the riverbeds turns to powder beneath travelers' feet and blows away upon the chill winds. Up past the sheer cliffs, past immense columns of stone that must have been erected by long-ago builders and suggest ancient civilizations, the massive river that feeds all the other rivers of Annwn turns into a waterway, the sides cut smooth and lined with stone tiles, until it ends in a reservoir that looks to have been fed by a spring in the rocks high above ... now long dried.

Two pillars, or rather stubs that were once mighty columns, mark the entrance to a chapel built into the rock, its lines beautifully simple. The fallen cylinders have crashed to the ground on either side, showing that they were built as circular blocks stacked one on another, and there is rubble strewn about them, mixed with long shards of what appear at first glance to be white ceramic. Some curved pieces are mixed with them, and then enough of an intact skull to show that these are travelers' bones.

The entrance to the chapel is formed by two tall wooden doors, one ajar, the other battered off of its hinges by some immense force. Within lies darkness pierced by a tiny speck at the far end.

"Charming place," comes Emilio's sardonic words from behind. "Such lovely decorations, I can see why you wanted to visit it."

"We neglected to gag our captive," Rachel observes, tartly. "An oversight I suggest we rectify directly, now that we have arrived."

Agatha dismounts Ahearn, and says, "We should unbridle the horses too, in case we don't come back out. Ahearn will be able to lead them off if the worst happens. I imagine he can also crack the skull of our guest if he tries anything funny while we're inside."

"Good idea, Rachel. Please do so," Thomas says, then adds, "And pardon me for a moment." He dismounts his horse anddigs in his saddlebag for a moment, then withdraws a feather. He walks to the reservoir and kneels at the edge. He taps the base of the feather a few times, then searches the ground below for a place to stick the feather.

Sir Lefallon suggests, "Milord, it might be easier to make sure he doesn't talk ... at all." He glances meaningfully to Redmane's blade.

"No, Sir Lefallon," Thomas calls from his kneeling place. "Rachel and Redmane make valid points as to why he should live. He should thank them for making me realize them."

After tending to the horses, Agatha approaches Simon and tells him, "I saw some interesting things in Pelles's magic mirror, Sir Lefallon."

The young boy dressed in Mirari chainmail looks back to Agatha curiously. "He had a magic mirror? What did you see?" He shifts his shield off his backpack and eyes the broken skeletons distractedly.

The water mage drawls, "Yes, you may imagine my profound gratitude, Lady Rachel, Lady Redmane." He smirks, seeming content to stay on his horse and await his gagging and further binding.

"Your bedroom back in Ainigton, among other things," the red-head says. "You also take a very interesting portrait."

"Really?" Sir Lefallon visibly thinks back as if trying to recall something from the past, and then blinks, looking over to Thomas, and then back to Agatha.

"Do they know?" Agatha quietly asks Simon while pointing to both Tom and Rachel with her chin. "After the letter from Alice, they surely have to suspect something."

"Er, actually, they already know," Sir Lefallon says with a blush, ears pinking. "I was thinking that I should tell you."

Thomas finds a suitable spot and plunges the base of the feather into some soft dirt. He then stands and walks back to the others. "We have a few hours before we'll get any results, so, I suggest we try and find the curse focus," Thomas says, pausing in his approach to look at Ahearn and comment, "Been a long time, Ahearn. You look well as ever."

"Ah, well I guess they didn't mind too mu--" Agatha pauses as she sees Thomas address Ahearn directly. "Geeze, that's creepy at times."

While the others busy themselves with other things, Rachel gags the water mage. Ahearn approaches, and with his teeth grabs the water mage by his collar, hauling him from his mount. He drops the man unceremoniously beside a pillar, where Rachel proceeds to tie him. She places him the shadow, where the shade of either chapel or pillar will protect him from the worst heat of the sun.

"What is?" Sir Lefallon looks around to try to see what Agatha meant, his train of thought visibly broken.

"Thomas being ... Lord Thomas," Agatha mutters. "You don't have the real Sir Lefallon's memories, do you, Simon?"

Ahearn whuffles, shaking out his mane. He looks like he wants something to rinse his mouth out with. It is well to see you again, Lord Explorer. Curious circumstances, indeed, reunite us.

"Curious, and more grim than I had first thought," Thomas comments with a nod. "I hope Redmane hasn't given you much trouble? She seems loathe to accept who she is."

Agatha sticks her tongue out at Thomas while he's talking to the Lord of Horses.

Sir Lefallon looks at Agatha oddly. "Of course I do, but..." He shakes his head and then gestures toward Thomas. "Time passes strangely in Mirari. Maybe Lord Explorer Thomas could explain it better than I, Lady Redmane."

She is not loathe to accept who she is, Ahearn answers. Nor has Agatha given me any trouble. He turns to look at the redhead, catching her with her tongue out. Amusement radiates from him like a quick smile.

"Do you mean there really are two of you here at the same time?" Agatha asks Simon, trying not to let the stallion see her blush.

"Ah well. Better for me, then. If she remembered half the things I said to her all those Years ago, I'd really be in trouble. Thank you for carrying her here," Thomas replies, then bows slightly and continues on to the others. "We have to talk later, Redmane," Thomas says, "There is much to discuss, but now is not the time. Let us deal with the curse upon this land -- then we can deal with what must be done next."

"No, there is only one of me," the young boy says, brushing back his pageboy-cut brown hair. "I was asked by Lord April to watch over you, and learn if the King might indeed be in Ainigton. But there is mortal Simon, and he is in..." Abrupt horror falls over the young knight's face. He rushes toward Thomas, calling, "Lord Thomas! I just realized..."

Thomas raises a hand and says, "Sir Lefallon.... That can be discussed later. I know, and I worry as well."

Ahearn stamps a foot and snorts. I do not know, he remarks.

The boy knight nods. "Lords and Ladies, I was so busy thinking about poor Lord April, that I'd completely forgotten..." His ears are red with shame. "I pray that all may yet be saved."

"Lefallon!" Thomas says loudly.

"Milord?" He straightens up.

The black-haired translator finishes binding their prisoner to the pillar, and turns to the others, the apprehensive look on her face mirroring theirs.

"What is it then, Simon?" Agatha asks, looking around with hand on hilt as if expecting imminent attack.

"Redmane need not know about Lord April at this time. Now is not the time to cloud her mind. We need to remain focused on the here and now," Thomas says.

The young knight bows his head. "Aye, milord."

"Oh gee, that will help. Yup, my mind is clear as crystal now," Agatha says sarcastically, and walks over to the others. "I see we'll have to have a long talk after dealing with this curse thing."

Ahearn paws the ground and snorts again, looking at Agatha. Lady, I mislike this. Lord Explorer, he addresses Thomas again, I do not appreciate this secrecy.

Thomas takes in a breath and nods, "As you wish, then, Redmane, Ahearn. The Lord April at the Court is the Destroyer. The real Lord April was taken captive earlier this year. He was held briefly at Caer Sidi outside the Black Robes' Lair. Alice -- in horrible danger. All in the court are."

"Well, that's good to know," Agatha says calmly. "Have you let Alice know, though? She's the one in a position to do something about it right now."

"We can't. It will only endanger her further," Thomas replies. "Because, who would believe it? Where is the proof? We only have witness testimony, and inferences from several observations. We must find Lord April -- or his remains, to prove it."

"I think you underestimate Alice's value as a spy," Agatha says, and leaves it at that. "For the moment though ... I'm not seeing any killer ghosts attacking us. I don't suppose you have a map or anything that can help us inside the temple?"

Thomas tilts his head briefly, then looks toward the chapel.His hand slips down to his sword hilt. "We are not alone," he says warily.

Sir Lefallon says, "Aye, a warning might lead Alice to take greater care than she might otherwise." He nibbles on his lower lip pensively, and then his hand goes likewise to sword hilt, his eyes go about the lonely-seeming space. "What-- where?"

"The chapel -- movement. It stopped now. Whatever it was, it's heavy and low to the floor," Thomas says, then starts heading toward the chapel doors.

Agatha draws her sword first, then looks around, paying more attention to the shadowed areas around the building. She moves towards the left-hand side of the open door to cover Tom's approach.

Sir Lefallon touches Thomas's arm. "We'd best be careful, milord," he warns, though following with sword drawn. "I like not the looks of these bones. Many a traveler before us has fallen to whatever this threat might be."

Rachel falls in place behind them, her crossbow at ready. Ahearn spares a glance for the bound prisoner, then circles in the open. He checks the perimeter behind the two-legged folk, ensuring that nothing will sneak at them from their outside surroundings.

Thomas nods in acknowledgement to Agatha, then Lefallon. "Fetch one of the sheets in the backpack, my rope, tinder box, and some lamp oil would you?" Thomas asks Lefallon. "Lady Redmane, will you keep watch on the door while I prep something, please?"

The swords-girl nods to Tom and keeps her vigil next to the door.

The knight nods. "Fire, is it? Very well, milord." He sheathes his sword and trots back to the horses, rummaging through them for the things that Thomas has asked for.

From her vantage point, Agatha can make out some of the interior of the chapel, lit by a flame at the far end, on the altar. Statues of knights armed with lances and tower shields line the sides of the chapel, though most of them have toppled over long since to end up in myriad pieces of armor and weapons littering the floor. Between them are rows of pews, and the altar itself, on a circular dais. The tapestries behind it look to be of medieval designs, Biblical scenes.

Sir Lefallon comes back to Thomas with his arms laden with a folded sheet draped over one, a coil of rope over the other, and holding a tinder box and a skin of lamp oil. "Is this what you wanted, milord?" he asks.

"There's a flame burning near the altar, guys," Agatha says quietly.

Thomas steps away from the door, just to the side. "Exactly what I wanted, Sir, Lefallon," Thomas replies, then thrusts his sword point down into the dirt to anchor it. He takes the items and sets them out, "Any idea what I'm about to do?" Thomas asks as he pulls out his knife and cuts several long strips of cloth from the sheets. "I'm basically going to convert my sword into a torch of sorts." He then proceeds to wrap the cloth around the blade, followed by rope to secure it in place.

"You know, I've got that really long lance," Agatha reminds Tom.

"Yes, and it's iron, isn't it?" Thomas reminds Agatha. "I can't touch it."

"Only the tip is -- wait," Agatha says, and presses her ear to the door. "Something is breathing on the other side," she mouths to the others.

Thomas stops what he is doing and looks up, expression grim. "Behind the battered door?" Thomas mouths back.

Sir Lefallon's eyes widen. He reaches for his sword.

Agatha shakes her head to Thomas, and nods toward the ajar door she's standing next to. She makes an elbowing motion towards the door, and raises her eyebrows questioningly to Thomas.

Thomas draws his sword from the ground, then slides off the material he had been bundling around it. He motions to Lefallon to move to the side of the door opposite Agatha, then heads that way. He nods toward Agatha, then moves his elbow.

Partway through Thomas's stealthy move to the door ... his foot comes down on a shard of bone, snapping it. tik There is no immediate response to this, however.

Agatha steps away from door, then turns and kicks hard at it.

Thomas inhales at the snap, then brings his sword up in defense.

... Nothing. Only the gloom of the chapel, smelling musty and foreign, lit solely by a tiny fire at the far end.

Thomas's eyes narrow. "Wait here," he mouths, then starts to creep toward the door, listening and looking intently.

Dodging back to the side of the doorway, Agatha frowns and looks to Thomas. "It's still in there somewhere," she mouths.

Outside, and a little away from the others venturing slowly into the cathedral, Ahearn paces, nostrils flared.

"I'm going in. Be ready to pull my butt out if something goes wrong," Thomas mouths, then nods, at Agatha.

The young boy-knight waits where Thomas indicated, sword drawn, worried look obvious on his face. He gives his old friend an "Are you sure about this?" look.

Thomas continues towards the doorway carefully, sword up and ready. Slowly, he places one foot over the threshold and pauses to look around.

As Thomas steps into the chapel, he senses it rises high above him, much as could be seen from outside, but a balcony shields the upper half from immediate view, with stairs leading up to it from this part of the chapel. Beyond that lies the wider part of the church with pews in which people might have gathered once to attend weddings, and then at the far end, a flame burning atop an altar, upon which his keen eyes can make out a few small lengths of wood. Dust-covered tapestries hang from the wall behind it, but it has been so long since they were dusted that thereligious imagery on them is all but gray.

Thomas takes in a breath and takes another step, then another. Slowly, he approaches the altar, looking this way and that, as well as up, to try and avoid a surprise attack.

Lucky it was that he looked up, for just as he does so, he sees a shape barreling down from the balcony and toward him, something huge and horrifically multi-legged. The explorer leaps backward, drawing on his martial arts training to end in a low crouch, sword ready, and through the doors he can now see the guardian of the chapel as it rattles its extreme discontentment with its miss.

The guardian of the chapel is a terrifyingly huge black chitinous thing that looks like an armored knight's torso grafted onto a scorpion's body, and twin red eyes gleam as if they carried their own light within. It scuttles on eight legs, and the man-like body's left arm ends in a long lobster-like claw, while its right arm holds a lance as if it were a mere toy. A feeling of dread washes out from it, as if it carried with it a chilling aura even more biting than the cold desert winds. "Leave. Now," it warns in a rasping voice filled with alien clacks and clicks. "Stay, and I will not miss again."

"I am Thomas, Late of House November. Who am I addressing?" Thomas inquires, staying in a defensive posture.

"Crud, not one of these jokers," Agatha says, and starts backing away towards Ahearn. And her lance.

"My name is not your concern, trespasser," the monster replies as it jabs low at Thomas, the force of its thrust knocking him off balance as he tries to sidestep and parry it, even with both hands behind his blade, so that he is forced to take a moment to gather his feet back under him. Its glowing red eyes look down at Thomas as it steps forward slowly. "Go."

"Back off, Thomas," Agatha advises as she continues her own retreat towards the stallion.

Sir Lefallon looks horrified. "Milord!" he cries out, and runs forward to try to divert the monster's attention. He narrowly evades a jab of the lobster-claw, rolling under it, and strikes at its arm, drawing sparks but no apparent damage.

Agatha turns and runs for Ahearn once Simon attacks. "Ahearn! Did we ever fight one of these things before?" she calls ahead.

Thomas starts walking backwards, keeping his sword ready. "Your name is my concern, if you are the cause of these land's ills. I am Lord of Field and Streams, after all," Thomas says darkly, trying to buy Agatha time.

Ahearn has advanced to Agatha's side faster than she could retreat. He whuffles at her, pawing the ground and snorting, a mixture of anger and fear in his stance. Yes.

Climbing onto the horse's back and taking up her lance, Agatha asks Ahearn, "Can we take it while it's in the chapel like that?"

No, the stallion answers, communicating the idea through the tension in his flanks. He dances to one side, sizing up the Vyglari.

"Try to draw it outside!" Agatha calls to the others. "But be careful!"

Thomas snarls and surges forward, taking a swipe at the creature's legs with his sword!

The giant man-scorpion ignores Thomas's jibe, scuttling about upon its eight thin legs to face the young knight, who raises his shield bravely against its attack. This time it feints with its lance, striking sparks and drawinga line across his shield, and as Sir Lefallon turns, it knocks him back with its claw! The knight is thrown backward by the force of the attack, though his helmet seems to have taken the brunt of the blow. He groans as he feebly tries to rise again.

"Rachel, shoot at its head!" Agatha calls. "Try to get it angry."

Rachel stands back from the others, her crossbow raised. She sights the monster along its bolt, but with the two boys engaging it, she hasn't had a clear shot. At Agatha's encouragement, she raises her aim to its head -- high off the ground, and a clearer if smaller target, and squeezes the trigger.

Thomas's blow connects, but only scores the chitin, doing little damage. He does however, succeed in drawing the monster's attention. It whips about to face him, using its claw as a sort of shield, its tail flicking back as if about to strike with a deadly poison stinger. As Rachel's bolt glances off of its head armor, however, it gazes balefully toward her, and then retreats a few steps into the darkness of the chapel, making it hard to see or attack directly.

Sir Lefallon groans, struggling to sit up.

Thomas backs up some again, glaring at the creature. "Redmane," Thomas says calmly, "Throw me your sword. I only hope my gloves will be enough to protect me."

"Rats," Agatha curses, and dismounts. "I'll have to try from the ground, Ahearn," she says, and hefts the lance in both hands before heading towards Thomas so he can use her sword.

Ahearn snorts, following Agatha. They're big doors, he says.

Thomas backs up to the threshold, but goes no further. He takes in a breath, drawing up the willpower to try and wield an iron weapon. Quietly, he returns his own blade to its sheath.

With Ahearn close at her heels, Agatha joins Thomas and leans down so he can draw the sword from the sheath on her back. "I'll try to keep its lance busy," she tells him.

Thomas tries to wrap his hand around the hilt of the blade. Inches from it, he stops. His teeth grit, and he strains, trying to force his hand to take the weapon. "I'm not sure I can take it," Thomas hisses, looking annoyed.

Sir Lefallon struggles up to his feet, leaning against the inside wall of the chapel. "Are ... Are you all right, milord?" he wheezes.

"Try to get to Simon then," Agatha suggests, and hefts her heavy lance as she moves in to try and distract the guardian.

"You are of the fey, my lord. We cannot wield iron." Rachel peers into the dark chapel, looking for the silhouette of the Vyglari.

"Cursed iron weapons," Thomas snarls, unable to force his hand to grip the hilt. "Oh, don't be a fool, Redmane, getback on Ahearn. You're a walking target on the ground with that lance!" Thomas calls out, drawing his own sword once more.

Ahearn gives a snort that indicates a rare moment of agreement with Tom.

"Well, then it can chase me while you get Simon," Agatha hisses. "I'm not going to take Ahearn into those pews."

And how are you going to stop me? the Lord of Horses inquires, still at her side.

"The Lord of Horses can take care of himself, Redmane. For the love of the Lord, Redmane, wake up and remember!" Thomas calls out, charging back into the chapel, bringing his sword up for another attack on the creature.

Movement in the shadows near the stairs to the balcony alerts them to the monster's attack as it rushes forward at incredible speeds, passing them, striking out with its lance at Sir Lefallon, who notices in time to roll out of the way. "Trespassers," it hisses as it comes to a halt on the other side of the chapel, near the other side's stairs. "Flee." Its legs brace as it readies for another locomotive-powerful charge.

Agatha blinks and comes to her senses enough to get back onto Ahearn.

Once she's remounted, Agatha takes up her lance again and braces it to take the Vyglari's charge.

As one with his rider's desire, Ahearn stands fast in the entranceway to the cathedral, head lowered to take the charge. One hoof paws at the dry ground, ready to answer with a charge of his own, at Agatha's bidding.

The man-scorpion sizes up its enemies, and evidently decides that the young knight can be finished off at its leisure. It sets its legs forward, charging toward Thomas, lance held as a parody of a black knight on horseback. A feeling of dread washes over him coldly.

When she sees the enemy lance turn to target Tom, Agatha squeezes Ahearn with her knees and whispers, "Go," to him, aiming her own lance at the monster's chest.

Thomas launches himself forward, growling and gripping his sword tightly. "I really hope this works," Thomas thinks inwardly, then drops down to the ground when thecreature draws close, landing on his back and preparing to thrust his blade upward.

The monster lunges, lance stabbing out to reach for Thomas ... or where he was, for the explorer has already dropped beneath his charge, and stabs upward with his sword, drawing sparks, sparks, sparks... Something soft yields beneath his blade and pain bellows from the monster, a keening shriek, as it leaps upward, colliding with the balcony, scrabbling there upside down for a moment.

And then it is down on the ground again to meet Agatha's charge, whipping its lance up narrowly in time to deflect her strike. Sensing the steel of her weapon, the monster scuttles backward at speed, trying to get beyond her reach.

Turning Ahearn to follow the creature's retreat, Agatha swings her lance about to keep it at bay.

Thomas rolls over and gets back to his feet. "Redmane, take it down!" Thomas shouts. "It's probably off balance while moving backwards!"

The man-scorpion centaur hisses, backing away, then shifts its weight as if about to make a leap across the pews.

Agatha nudges Ahearn to charge forward to try and strike the beast with her lance before it can leap.

Thomas starts backing up, trying to judge where the creature will land if it does so. "We have to keep pressing. Can't let it recover," Thomas decides.

The Lord of Horses follows their foe, sure-footed and implacable. At the touch of Agatha's knees, he makes a leap of his own. He intercepts the Vyglari as it starts tospring, its movements hampered by a hind-leg no longer responding quickly to its will, and the braced point of Agatha's lance pierces its chest. The Vyglari gives a horrible, unholy shriek, all its limbs splaying madly. Smoke pours from the wound, and the chitin and flesh shrivels around it. The poisoned stinger flails briefly, then subsides, as the Vyglari folds in upon itself in death.

The redhead holds the lance fast until the monster finishes dying, grimacing and trying to hold her nose against the stench.

Thomas watches in amazement, then smiles. With a flip of his blade, he glides it back into its sheath and breaths a sigh of relief. "Now that is how I remember Redmane," Thomas says and nods firmly. "Ever amazing, Lord Ahearn. You are truly the Lord of Horses," Thomas then adds with a salute.

"I'll never complain about how trolls smell again," Agatha mutters as she pulls the lance free from the corpse.

"Sir Lefallon, Lady Rachel, are you both well?" Thomas inquires, looking around for the two.

Ahearn acknowledges the explorer's salute with a nod. You acquitted yourself well, Thomas, he remarks. To Agatha, he says, That went much better than the last time.

The chapel seems dead now without the threat of the monster. The only sources of light are the broken doors behind them, and the eternal flame burning on the altar ahead of them. Before it is a wooden staff that has been broken into three pieces, and two golden end pieces shaped like lions that look as if they might once have held the staff between them. Bones and scraps of ancient cloth litter the floor next to the altar.

Sir Lefallon gasps for breath as he struggles upward again. "Now that," he wheezes, nodding to Thomas's concern. "That was a fight. I've never seen anything like what Lady Redmane's lance did to that monster."

"What happened last time?" Agatha asks the stallion as she dismounts to check his legs for scrapes or splinters.

Rachel comes to Lefallon's aid after unstringing her crossbow. She has a disgruntled look on her face as she answers Tom with, "I am fine, my lord."

Thomas walks up to the altar and looks at it carefully. "Rachel, come look at this," Thomas says. "I think we've found the curse focus."

We lost. He stands patiently through the examination. There's a little gash on his left foreleg, but nothing serious.

"My lord?" After making sure the small knight is comfortable on one of the pews, Rachel moves to join Tom.

Sir Lefallon rubs his head again feelingly, and then makes his way slowly down the aisle between the pews to see what it is that Thomas means. "The what?"

"We did?" Agatha asks in surprise, then goes about binding the cut with a silk handkerchief (unused). "How'd we survive, then?" she asks, glancing between the horse's legs towards the altar and the others.

"Flame -- the absence of water," Thomas says quietly, staring at the altar. "But, what does the broken staff mean? What does the book say about breaking the focus's power? And what are you talking about, Redmane?"

"Pelles said something about a staff being used to bring forth the water, I think," Agatha says to Thomas, then blinks. "Oh, I was just talking to Ahearn. He said we lost the previous fight against a Vyglari."

I am a very fast runner. You may have noticed. Ahearn looks perfectly solemn as he delivers this, turning his head to watch the others as well.

Thomas nods and replies, "So you did." He says nothing more, reachingout to carefully pick up a single piece of the staff.

Agatha finishes bandaging Ahearn's foreleg, and walks over to the others at the altar. "Just let me know if the lance starts bugging you and I'll take it back outside," she offers.

Ahearn frowns, looking bemused by Tom's statement, but doesn't add anything.

Rachel's eyes flicker with reflected firelight. "Once one finds the source of the focus of the curse, one removes and destroys the cursed object," she answers.

The staff looks incredibly old and weathered, and feels to be simple wood. It is an ordinary shepherd's crook.

"The staff you mean?" Agatha asks. "I suppose it's not needed to make the water flow, but cursing it could stop it up. Be a cruel trick if destroying it also stopped the spring."

Thomas looks over his shoulder and grins wryly. "So, is running fast how you avoided 'marrying', Redmane? You might remember I did suggest that to her a few times," Thomas says with a wink, then goes back to looking at the altar.

"So ... should we burn what is left of the staff, or try to repair it?" Thomas asks, looking at Rachel.

The flame seems to have no source. It sits on the stone top of the altar and crackles, to all appearances an ordinary flame.

Rolling her eyes, Agatha lets the gibe slide for now. She holds an ungloved hand near the flame to feel if it's giving off heat or not.

"Feels real," the mortal reports.

"Sir Lefallon, I hate to ask you to fetch one more thing, but could you go get my waterskin please? We may need water to counteract this flame," Thomas says.

I believe her answer was along the lines of 'When I find in a fey man a companion half so faithful, true, honest, and loyal, then I shall wed him. Until then, I shall count my blessings.' Ahearn seems less inclined to let the gibe slide, though he comments with equanimity.

Sir Lefallon peers at the altar more closely. "It looks like the golden lions were meant to display the staff here," he says judiciously. "I don't know if--" He nods. "Very well, milord," and walks slowly, for that seems to be the best pace he can manage, toward the back of the chapel.

Agatha tries hard not to burst out laughing at Ahearn's comment.

Thomas chuckles lightly at Ahearn's comment. "That left me safe, thankfully," Thomas replies with a grin. "For I cannot run near as fast as you, Ahearn."

"I've -- " Rachel reaches for her waterskin, then remembers she emptied it in the fight with the conjured monsters. "Never mind. Sir Lefallon, rest, I can get it." She darts back towards the entrance.

The young knight seems grateful to do as Rachel suggests. "I just need to catch my wind," he explains. "I'll be all right once I've rested."

Thomas tries to fit the broken pieces of the staff back together to see what happens.

Nothing. The pieces fit together, but will not hold.

I don't believe land speed was on her list of criteria, in point of fact, Lord Explorer, Ahearn whuffles at the flame, wrinkling his nose.

"And me without glue," Thomas mutters."True, but she often called me a sneak. So, I hardly think she thinks I'm honest, eh?" Thomas says with a grin.

Sir Lefallon rolls his eyes at the bantering.

Ahearn gives Tom a look when he mentions glue, but after a glance at the staff, he doesn't comment.

Tom hmms, picking up two of the broken sections. He holds them together, then briefly holds the broken section over the flame.

Ssz! The flame licks at the wood, sparking the very end.

Thomas pulls it away. "Didn't think so," he says.

"I think you're right to try water," Agatha says, and looks back towards the main doors. "I'm going to go check out the balcony, okay?"

The spark goes away eventually, leaving behind a char mark. Sir Lefallon shakes his head. "I'm not sure that's the way to make a mark in life, old friend," he says.

Thomas nods to Agatha and says, "Agreed. Be careful, the flooring may not be stable." He then looks over at Sir Lefallon, then takes the charred end and drags it down the small knight's chest. "No, this is," he replies with a rakish grin.

Agatha draws her sword before testing her weight on the stairs to the balcony, taking them one at a time.

The stair steps, being made of stone, are quite sound, and the balcony itself looks to be additional seating, part of the chapel's arrangement. There are two boxed areas near the front where lords would have sat, and a raised area behind and to the side where a choir would have stood.

Rachel returns with the waterskin, while Agatha investigates the deserted balcony, which seems to be in surprisingly good shape despite the general wear and tear on the shrine.

Sir Lefallon swats the stick away. "Hey! Don't get me burned up, here."

"You'd think they'd have some windows," Agatha says.

Thomas accepts the waterskin and uncorks it. "Thank you, Rachel. Why don't you two stand back in case something bad happens, hm?" Thomas says. His attention then returns to the flame the light dancing in his green eyes. Slowly, he brings the waterskin up, holding it high above the flame. He begins to tip it, inch by inch. Finally, a bead of water forms at its tip, followed by a small stream moments later as Lord Thomas gently squeezes the waterskin. "I hope this works," he thinks and holds his breath.

The flame goes out with a whiff, and it becomes utterly dark in the chapel ... until a faint glow catches Thomas's attention.

It belongs to the bones next to the altar, but then it rises from them slowly, elongating, widening to form the robed figure of an old priest, leaning heavily upon a ghostly staff of a different design from the broken staff.

"Bless you, my children," he says with a voice like the sigh of wind through the cave, so faint that they must strain to hear him. "While the flame burned, I was powerless to manifest so much as a fingertip, though my spirit cried out to avenge the insult that those cursed mages had done to Meribah...."

Sir Lefallon startles. "A ghost?" he whispers.

Agatha watches very quietly from the balcony, and shivers at the sight of the wraith.

"In a sense," Thomas says to Sir Lefallon. "Good sir, can you tell us what happened here to cause such destruction and pain?"

"My name is Father Kelby. I was once of Mirari, many Years ago, but I came to minister to the people of Annwn, and then the last keeper of Galon Annwn came to me. He was growing old, and he wished to pass the secret task of caring for this place to someone also of the Faith," the old man whispers. He looks saddened as he looks around the chapel at the bits of armor where once stood knights, and then his gaze falls upon the pieces of the broken staff upon the altar. Something about his manner suggests sudden, abrupt despair.

It takes a long moment before he speaks again. "They came. I remember that I fought to defend the shrine, and then I was struck down by a mighty black-armored blow, and.... How long has it been? Too, too long. My bones have shed the flesh that clothed them."

Thomas nods and this and says, "Much has changed since those days. The lands are ... not as you would have remembered. Were 'they' the Black Robes?"

"Aye, they wore black robes, and they spoke disrespectfully to me, telling me that the waters of Galon Annwn would flow no longer," Father Kelby says. "And I fear it is so. No liturgy that I could say would repair the staff that brought water out of Meribah. The blessings upon this temple require a powerful holy artifact such as the staff was, in order to bring water out of the rocks."

He shakes his head sadly, his spectral glow illuminating the altar faintly. "This land was a desert once that travelers feared to cross, for that they could not carry enough water to see the other end before they thirsted to death, and I fear that it shall become that again. I rest uneasily with my bones unburied, but even more so knowing that so many are doomed to thirst."

"We'll bury you," Agatha promises from the balcony, surprised to hear her own voice. "Thomas ... is that feather of yours blessed or anything?"

Thomas nods to the old man. He then looks back to Sir Lefallon and says softly, "No, Agatha, but my friend here ... I think he carries the answer to this."

Sir Lefallon looks up. "I do?" And then there is a soft "Oh."

Ahearn tosses his head, his mane rumpling, then bows it to shrine keeper, touched by the story. Rachel's eyes turn to Simon as well, quiet and expectant.

Father Kelby signs a benediction toward Agatha. "You are kind, my child," he whispers. His gaze turns toward Thomas curiously.

"It is the only artifact I know of, unless perhaps Pelles's cauldron can do something," Thomas replies.

"I have heard of Pelles's cauldron. It is a powerful sorcerous artifact, but it is not holy," Father Kelby responds sadly. "Though it was reputed to be able to conjure water, there was a price to be paid."

"Then it does indeed fall to the guardian, Sir Lefallon," Thomas says with a nod. "Sir Lefallon?"

Sir Lefallon reaches around to fetch his backpack, and then flips the flap open. He scrabbles around in it, the sounds of his moving things about all that can be seen of his search, and then he pulls forth a white cloth-covered box, and offers it to Thomas. "Here, milord," he says.

Quietly, Agatha makes her way down from the balcony to join the others, wondering just what Simon is carrying.

"I think you should do it, Sir Lefallon," Rachel says, then starts a little at her own boldness.

The ghost blinks, raising his arm to shield himself as if from a powerful glow, though there is no light visible to the other eyes. "What in the name of the Lord have you brought?" he asks, his voice sounding stronger already. "It is as warm as daylight... Oh, I did not know that I had missed the feel of daylight on my face."

Thomas raises his hand. "No, my friend. You are its guardian, not I," Thomas says, then nods toward Rachel with a smile.

"Aye, milord. I can think of no better task for it than to save a land," Sir Lefallon says with a faint smile and solemnity in his eyes. He seems to be feeling stronger already, as he stands and walks toward the altar, and as he opens the box, hand turning the lid, brilliant light pours out of it, illuminating the tapestries so that dust flies off them to reveal the original colors, scenes of a people trekking across the desert and standing before hills very like Galon Annwn. It seems as if there should be angelic choirs singing.

"What is it?" Agatha asks softly, taking a few steps back.

"The object once entrusted to the Fisher King to guard," Thomas answers, remaining motionless and watching.

The young knight reaches into the box and takes out a simple chalice, before which Father Kelby kneels abjectly. "It is the Holy Grail, Lady Redmane," he says. "I quested for it many Years ago, and now it seems that I have found a new home and purpose for it. I pray to the Lord that we chose wisely today." He sets it upon the altar between the golden lions.

Ahearn bows, reverently, folding his right foreleg beneath him in honor of the artifact the young knight carries. A beatific smile forms on Rachel's face, and she leans forward without thinking about it. She holds her breath, anticipating.

It seems at first as if nothing had happened, and then there is a deep shaking of the earth.

Agatha can only stare with her mouth hanging open.

Father Kelby looks worshipful, and then tilts his head as if a voice is speaking to him. "Go quickly, my children," he urges to the travelers. "Go to the doors of the chapel and look out!"

Thomas kneels before the altar now, bowing his head in deference. "I can think of no better place, Sir Lefallon," Thomas says, then gets back to his feet. He turns and heads right toward the chapel doors, already imagining what he will bear witness to.

Rachel laughs, breathless, a little giddy, as she leaves Tom's side and runs to the door.

After seeming frozen for a moment, Agatha finally tears her eyes away and follows the others outside.

Ahearn hesitates, then approaches Sir Lefallon, offering the young fey his flank to lean on. Together, they make their way to the doors.

Galon Annwn seems exactly as they remembered it at first, bone dry, strewn with rubble and there across the clearing is Emilio, looking disappointed that the travelers actually have the temerity to be still alive.

But the rumbling continues to shake the earth, and then there is a huge gouting of water from the spring's mouth over the reservoir, so powerful and strong that the spray of its rush forms a brilliant rainbow across the hills. Water quickly fills the reservoir and rushes down the riverbed, and where the spray falls upon the land, grass begins to grow anew, and tiny flowers burst with Springtime blue, out of season.

The transformation follows the river as water surges down the waterway toward the edge of the cliff. Behind them, Father Kelby's voice says softly, "The Holy Grail heals the land of Annwn. Bless you, my children."

"Rare has a roar been so welcome," Thomas says, watching in awe. "May life return to the land from which it was torn. And thank the Lord that we are all here to see it -- together."

"Amen," Agatha adds quietly.

"Amen," Rachel echoes, still smiling, though her laughter has been swallowed by awe.

Ahearn, joining the others, nuzzles the top of Simon's head, then bows his own.

The young knight takes a step out of the chapel, and then laughs as a spray of water flicks across him, scattering droplets into the church. "Thank you," he shouts to the sky. "Thank you, Lord!" And he runs out to leap through the rainbow, laughing.

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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.