Umber

Watchers near the field of battle muse on its meaning. (sab)

An unarmored elf with nearly a dozen children peers through the gloom, watching the battle from a nearby hill. Details are hard to make out in the darkness, but the broad scope of troop movements as well as the screams of death and victory is clear.

A surge of enemies strikes at the soldiers defending the earthen ramp, and many fall. The children are young, but old enough to know that it is their fathers and brothers whose lives are spent in defense of the village. One of the children turns his head and begins to weep.
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Haissha celebrates with Sir Geoffrey on the salvation of Blasingdell, but expresses a certain relief at the imminent departure of the adventurers.

Dearest Geoffrey,

By the grace of Pelor and Fharlanghn, I send to you now the words that yesterday I despaired of ever being able to write: it is finished, and we are well. Trapped inside the town walls for the entire conflict, I would know little of what occurred had Psydney and Hadrack not sat up with me until dawn came again, recounting what they saw and heard.
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Psydney experiences a moment of doubt.

Rejoice!
We sail upon the sea of death
And see
    From far
    From near
Carnage comes times two or three or more
Rejoice!
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In the midst of the second battle, far more vicious than the first, an unexpected force appears. (sab)

Losses have been hard, but the battle is in your control. The carnage, however, is shocking and you realize that it would not take much to unbalance things to your enemies’ favor. Another of those noxious green clouds could cause havoc – either to your troops, or even worse – to the peasant mob that is protected within the confines of the manor walls.
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The party turns back Orcus at a gate to the Prime Material.

To Erenil the Long-Lost:

Words can’t begin to express my surprise when a girallon acquaintance of mine handed me your letter. Evidently the two of you know the same derro. When I heard you’d gotten as fed up with T’lar as I did and stormed out of the Enclave, I often wondered what you were up to, and even tried to find you a couple of times. I understand now why I always failed – I’ve never been fond of the Underdark. Since you don’t volunteer much information about what precisely you’ve been doing there, I assume you don’t really want me to know. I can hazard a guess, though, especially after talking to Thiff – you’ve added drow to your ever-expanding list of hatreds, haven’t you?
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Between battles, the party tries to calm the Blasingdell citizenry; Bane and Psydney acquire unexpected proteges. (sab)

The weather worsens, and control spells are moderating, but not reversing it…a massive lightning storm threatens to move in from the mountains to the North. Some villagers are afraid, but you walk the town and their fear turns to determination. On occasion, you see Serge’s hand slip to his sword hilt when dealing with a particularly hysterical citizen.
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Haissha recounts the fortunes of war to her old friend, Sir Geoffrey, currently serving Tenser at Mage Point.

Dearest Geoffrey,

It is the morning after the battle. From outside my window come the sounds I feared never to hear again: the town about its normal business. The troops are still drilling, of course, preparing for the next onslaught, but the traders are trading, the millers are milling, the smiths smithing. The carpenters, at my direction, are dismantling the town gallows. You may make of that what you will, but it should only be puzzling if you receive this letter prior to my last. At noon I must officiate the service for the slain. If only Blasingdell sat atop a diamond mine, that I might raise them all! But there is no point in wishing for what I cannot have, and you are doubtless impatient to hear the outcome of the conflict.
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Frito finally finds what he is looking for.

Dearest Geoffrey,

It’s a hurdle or a line we’ve crossed; I’m not sure yet which. The first battle has been won, with the falling of only thirty of our soldiers. None were left on the opposing side to carry the results back to their leaders, but that in itself will tell a tale of its own. Berrick has taken the loss of the thirty hard. It is easy for the military-minded among us to explain that these are not merely acceptable losses, but far beyond what we dared hope for; still Berrick grieves with the parents and the spouses and the children of the lost. Our carefree lord is growing older and wiser, my friend; it will be a good thing for Blasingdell, even as it perhaps sorrows us.
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The party arrives in the middle of Haissha ranting at Svengali, and briefly contemplates the restfulness of Lyzandred’s maze. (sab)

You arrive in Blasingdell in the middle of the night. Loud voices and light from beyond the conference room in the manor alerts you to the fact that a war room meeting is in progress. “…and we’re not going to go live in caves like vermin, you coward!”
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Sometimes humans are squirrels, and sometimes squirrels are…dragons? (sab)

The “squirrel” raises a questioning eyebrow, and Bane explains that the lightning bolt, transformation into a non-threatening furry animal, declaration of war, and favoring of a cavern with an underwater entrance all led him to this hopefully accurate conclusion.
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