From alt.pub.dragons-inn Wed Feb 16 17:26:26 1994
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From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [Roaming]  Wading In
Date: 14 Feb 1994 22:57:12 GMT
Organization: Gustavus Adolphus College
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From the journals of Thaddius Farsinger, of the Roamer Companions:

"4 August 1993.  World: Nexus, Location: Plains west of the Great Forest.

"Night is approaching once more.  And with it will come the confrontation I am  
dreading with all my heart.

"I had hoped for more time to prepare myself before facing the abomination, but  
that is not to be.  I have been harried by his forces, though they have not yet  
discovered me.  There has not been time to sleep nor to study. The blight  
washes out any attempt I make to commune with Chan-Da'all.  She might hear me  
in battle, but not now, not without the impetus that battle brings.  All that  
remains are my own devices. Ironically, I, who all my life have had the aid of  
others when necessary, who preferred the background to the forefront, am left  
facing this threat alone.

"So be it.  Is this not the very purpose for which I began this Roam?  I am not  
disappointed with the results.  Sorrowful, yes, but not sorry.  I have finally  
made peace with myself.

"Be thee prepared, Thorne.  Though thee be ancient and wicked beyond words,  
thou shall not pass while one of faith and courage stands before thee.  Thou  
hath been warned."

***

Thad puts away his journal and writing materials.  One last time, he begins  
inventory of his equipment.  His staff is ready.  Spell components are within  
easy reach.  Their words flow through his memory.  His sling hangs free, and  
its ammo is also in easy reach.  The damage to his armor has been repair to the  
best of his ability.  Injuries have likewise been healed and dinner provided by  
the materials happened up on earlier.  The half-elf is ready to depart.

Before he leaves, he mutters a spell to himself.  After several minutes, he  
nods.  Away west is the strongest sense of undeath.  Thad calls on his goddess  
to cloak him from their sight and moves forward.

***

Meanwhile, away to the north, a problem has developed for Ellen and Marty.

"Where did you procure these mounts, Marty?" says Ellen.

The kender frowns.  "I told you, you don't want to know!"  He turns to see  
Ellen's frown.  "NO!  I didn't 'borrow' them.  I left some interesting things I  
had recovered from the drow last week..."

"Marty, how could you?!  You have no way of knowing what harm could come to the  
owners of these horses!"  The paladin is furious.  Ellen wants nothing more  
than to meet Thaddius, but not at the cost of innocents.

Marty gets a dark look on his face.  Deadly serious, he mutters, "I don't think  
they are in any condition to complain.  The farm was empty.  I am not quite a  
thief, you know.  I think they fled whatever Thad faces.  The entire landscape  
smelled of death."

Ellen nods grimly.  "Very well," she replies, "we will move out at once."

Away to the south and west they gallop.

***

Avoiding the zombies and skeletons has turned out remarkably easy.  Lacking any  
semblance of a mind, Thad's spell cloaks him from them completely.  It is  
equally successful against the lesser undead, the ghouls, ghasts, and shadows.   
Each passes him in turn, allowing him to approach closer to the center of their  
formation.  The nearer Thad gets, the great becomes his loathing; Thorne  
radiates evil and power on a scale the half-elf had rarely seen and never  
confronted on his own.  The only match in his mind is that of the Imperial  
Governor or perhaps the head of the Thad's own order.

It was about midnight when he is discovered.  Thad is hidden in another tree  
while a group of wights pass beneath him.  One stops for a moment, sniffing the  
air about him, but passes on.  It is when the bard leaps to the ground that  
trouble erupts.  Ahead, a wraith appears, heading straight for Thad.  Seeing  
his cloaking fail, the half-elf rolls to the side.  Immaterial hands pass just  
over Thad's head. From behind him, the wights reappear, hissing at the wraith  
for their piece of flesh.

Thad twirls his staff in a circle, trying to buy time as he sings out to  
Chan-Da'all, asking for protection.  A faint aura forms about him just as the  
wraith attacks again.  Its arms pas through Thad but have no effect.  The  
half-elf smiles and begins his attack.

Calling on Chan-Da'all again, he empowers his staff with lifeforce.  A swing at  
the wraith forces it back.  Another fells a wight that steps to close.  The  
remainder stand away, trying to get behind Thad.  In response, he laughs aloud  
and tosses a flask to the ground.

Light bursts forth and the undead howl in pain.  The wraith disappears,  
destroyed, and several wights lie broken and blasted on the ground.  Those  
remaining look puzzled, but they quickly take off in pursuit.

A shadow materializes but cowers away, screaming, from the glory of Chan-Da'all  
as Thad runs across the plains.  The stench ahead warns him of a group of  
ghasts that he skirts.  Instead he blunders into a group of ghouls.  The undead  
are over him in a flash, clawing and biting.  Their attack bears Thad to the  
ground.

But not for long.  Flailing about, he destroys two with blows, before their  
paralyzation can take effect.  Then he yanks a medallion from beneath his  
armor.  "In the Seeker's name, LET ME PASS!" he shouts.  Ghouls fall back,  
howling in anger and pain.  Once more, the half-elf sprints away.

***

North, Lady Ellen pulls up.  She concentrates for a moment, then says, "He has  
entered into combat.  We must hurry."  Urging her steed to even greater speeds,  
she rides ahead.  Martin looks at her in awe, then shrugs and follows.  The  
quicker they find Thad, the sooner he can be off this retched beast.

***

The pursuing wights meet up with the ghouls and chastise them severely.  All of  
the survivors take up the pursuit once more.  Meanwhile, word has gone out to  
the outlying forces.  Thorne commands some to continue forward, but calls forth  
more skeletons and zombies.  Under a group of shadows, he sends them toward the  
attacking mortal.

Thaddius has slowed to a jog.  He takes several seconds to heal his wounds,  
them turns back toward his pursuit.  Thrusting one end of the staff into the  
ground, Thad removes his sling and several stones.  As the undead appear on the  
rise, he begins sending the stones towards them.  Each stone flies true, and  
each hit sends another ghoul or wight to the final darkness.  The half-elf  
takes a grim pride in his work; whatever else, these creatures will cause no  
more grief to the living.

When he exhausts the supply of stones, Thad reclaims his staff.  The remaining  
three ghouls are cautious.  Perhaps they sense the approaching horde.   
Regardless, Thad goes on the offensive.  The aura protects him from all harm as  
he dispatches the remaining ghouls.  Thad turns once more to the west, hoping  
to cover more ground when suddenly, several zombies and skeletons arise jump  
him.  

Again the staff sings its deadly song, but to no avail. Undead claws dig into  
Thad while several weapons finally score strikes.  He is borne to the ground.   
For a few moments, the plains are still.  

Then light erupts from above and a shout of praise raised to Chan-Da'all.   
Undead disintegrate under this assault.  In the middle of it all, a form glows.   
Thad takes the opportunity to catch his breath.  But the glow is already  
beginning to fade.  And a new horde has emerged from the night to confront the  
half-elf.
  
Mixed among them are a few ghouls and shadows, with the occasional wight.  The  
intelligent undead hand back, allowing their fodder to soften up the half-elf.     
Thankfully, the undead move slowly and without grace.  More that once, their  
hesitation allows Thad to escape serious harm.  With the little time remaining,  
Thad calls forth chan-Da'all's power one last time.  As the undead close, Power  
flows forth from Thad forcing them back at first, then stabilizing.  None of  
the undead approach; the half-elf remains motionless.

For an hour, silence reigns.  Then a sigh escapes the massed undead, and they  
begin to move away.  A figure materializes out of the night.

Thad looks closely at him, then seems to wilt.

"Greetings Thaddius Farsinger.  I have been expecting you."

Thorne has finally deigned to face Thad himself.  The final act has begun.


-Thaddius Farsinger
"It's an invitation to dance.  And I love to waltz."
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Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind.
Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu
Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them!
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