The disturbance of Balord's retirement. (The Great Battle)

Balord sits in his small but confortable cabin eating some fresh venision when
he hears something outside he has not heard in many years..."...can't be, I havn't heard a griffin scream in years!" Dropping his bowl to the table he grabs his bow and throws the door wide, nearly bursting if from the hinges. looking up and about he surely does see a griffin circling down towards his cabin. As he takes aim, he notices something familiar about this beast and calls out "Ripper? Is that you boy?" The beast replies with what one could assume to be a friendly scream. He waves as he lowers his bow. As Ripper gets closer he notices a small package harnessed about the griffins neck.

The beast dropped from the sky a few feet from Balord's door and slowly moved toward him. Balord reached out and unbuckeled the package and opened it. Inside were several articles, a map (?), a note (presumably from his brother Kafelderpot), and a glistening dagger of uncertain design. He opened the note and read "Brother, I have been scrying some strange happening of late that are tied to your realm of relaxation. Seems many of the factions there about are trying to wrest the power to tier own like, unsettling the balance of the realm know as Gothador. You and I have seen this before brother and understand what the consiquences of these actions can be. The dagger is said to be from very ancient time of Gothador and I believe it could be the key to maintaining the balance . At this time that is as much as I can tell you, other than I have sent you the map which I hope will aid you in your quest. I intend to dig furter into this matter, that is why I sent Ripper with this package as I was sure he could find you. In any means Brother, prepare yourself and be on the watch.
Regards
Kafelderpot of Balendorn

"Damn!!! I knew it couldn't be good news", at his exclaimation Ripper started and snorted. "I agree old boy. It is good to see you again, sad that I must send you back, but first I have a good meal and spring water for you while I scratch out a reply for my brother for you to take back, OK?"

Balord walked over to a small shed at the edge of the clearing where his cabin lay nestled deep in the forest and opened it up and hauled out the remainder (almost the whole thing!) of the buck he had taken that morning "...more huntin' fer me tommorow..." he groaned as hoisted the deer up on one shoulder and took it over to Ripper. With that done he went inside to find quill and parchment to write his reply.

"Brother, good to hear from you considedring the circumstances. I have noticed lately that there is a strange feel to the realm...kind of like when Olfan tried to overthrough Grayhawk so many years ago. I am sending you this scroll case, it is quite handy, all you needs do is place a message inside and it teleports to the holder of the mated case which I have here with me and say 'post it' and a small chime will sound and I'll have the note here. Keep you having to worry if Ripper can make the plane shift or not...that rift is a bitch man!
Balord."

After sending Ripper on his way, Balord returned to the shed on the edge of the clearing and began hauling several storage racks outside. Then near the back of the shed he dug down about 18 inches till he found a small package wrapped well in oil soaked skins. After removing these he took what appeared to be a large purse or small duffle made from shimmering green velvet. He untied the drawstrings and opened the bag and reached inside drawing out a gleaming green sword, as he drew that from the scabbard with a ringing hiss a smile crossed his face. It had been years since he looked upon the blade that was once two, the blade that made him famous in the Balendorn wars. This blade was special, and VERY heavy.

A wave of memories flashed over him as he remembered how he came about this extraordinary sword. It had came to his hand by wishing it’s existence from that of two blades, his favored Vorpal, and a green dragon slayer. That wish had very nearly cost his own life as he stood high on a mountain speaking the wish, having thought of every last detail... except that of his own safety. As the vortex of magic built atop the mountain, he then realized that he had made an error, a bolt of energy struck as he held the two blades aloft, slamming the two blades into one, the result of which threw him 100 feet down the mountain. When he regained consciousness, he suffered from cracked ribs, dislocated left shoulder, numerous cuts and contusions, and severely burned hands. He only just managed to find a potion from his pack, which had somehow, stayed with him and quaffs it before passing out once more. Next thing he knew, his brother and traveling companions were standing over him with smiles as broad as a barmaid’s ass. “You’re alive!â€

Finally, just before sunrise Balord decided he'd had enough tossing and turning and rose to do his morning routine down at his sweat lodge down by the lake. As he headed for the door he noticed the dagger his brother had sent with Ripper. What was the significance of that he wondered, and why had Kafelderpot not mentioned it? It was of no design he had ever seen and the like none he knew of. Of course the craftsmanship was quite fantastic, the handle being black opal while the blade, butt and guard were all of the same metal which was very hard to describe, it was all at once; silver, black, gray, and yet not any of them, it seemed to writhe and move yet it was solid. No doubt that it was very old, yet almost no signs of wear from sharpening or use could be detected. He continued to study it on his way to the lake. He got to the lodge and started a fire in the rock box and went to the lake for a bucket of water. Upon returning he sat on a small bench do disrobe, laying the dagger on beside him. As he stood the dagger fell to the rock paved ground with a great shower of sparks and quite an injury to the stonework...however the tip of the blade showed absolutely no damage. “Curious.â€

After they had finished bathing, Balord and Freamir went back over to the lodge to dry off and get dressed, as they walked Balord told Freamir about the journey he was about to embark on. “Freamir, I’ve something need to tell you. I have a journey to make. Seems there may be some kind of major clan war brewing. My brother believes that this entire realm my be in danger should the balance be upset too far. I’ve seen this sort of thing happen before, it ain’t a pretty sight. I feel that I need to at least look into the matter...after all sitting here doing nothing doesn’t seem right, and IF I did that, it could even effect here anyway. I can not be sure how long I will be gone, but I will be back...of that I am sure. I feel more at home here than any place I‘ve ever been before. And you my dear Freamir, are a great part of that.â€

Balord trekked on throughout the day till nearly sundown and located a nice campsite. A nearby stream supplied his supper of two nice sized trout and a handful of small wild onions to tuck inside them as he roasted them over a small fire. So far this wasn’t bad as journeys go, he certainly had seen far worse. Just as he was finishing up his meal, he heard a sound come from his pack and remembered the scroll case messenger...â€

Sometime during the night Balord awoke to what sounded like footsteps, not being certain what the sound was he cautiously grabbed the small crossbow he had readied just before bedding down. He waited...not hearing anything further for quite a while he relaxed his hold somewhat on the crossbow, still he listened and watched. After an hour waiting he silently got up in a low crouch, grabbing his bow as well as the crossbow he crept closer to where the sound originated. Still he heard or seen nothing more. All his experience as a ranger came into play as he still maintained his watch...suddenly a twig snapping of to his left drew his attention, silently as possible he place an arrow to his bow and leveled off with the crossbow. He could see nothing, yet the hair on his neck stood on end, then a slight breeze stirred and he caught the unmistakable sent of goblin from the direction of the twig. Not being able to tell if it was one or more he concentrated on his sight to try and find anything that didn’t belong. just as a breeze stopped a low bush continued to move. He thought, â€

SabrinaRayne sat by the stream looking at the scabbard. It had been passed onto her from a dying angel. She was trying to think of what that old angel had told her searching for a clue as to what she was to do with the scabbard. It had something to do with her bloodline.

“You must take this…I have traveled across many plains in search of you. You are the only one who can free us from our angelic and demonic holds. *shallow coughing* Rayne, you must find the dagger…â€

As Balord trudged along down the path he thought about what he may be facing ahead. He wondered if he should actually follow through with this, after all he was not as young as he once was, most men his age just didn’t go tramping off down the mercenary trail. He even almost turned back, but then he decided the trip would do him good anyway...at least as long as it went better than last night. Most of his time on the trails in the past though he had been accompanied by at least one other person. Just then he remembered the platinum whistle, “I wonder if this will even work here?â€

As Jolly watched from the far end of the meadow, Balord had a dream, in it he saw great turmoil and war between many factions building up to a point that could surely destroy Gothador. Daemons fought Angels, Angels fought, Drow fought Elves, and they fought Humans and on and on in such a fashion that his mind ached! He could see no point to it as all alliances seemed to be null and void. Yet somewhere it seemed at least to Balord that there was a very simple solution that everyone was overlooking. Someone was causing it to happen, like throwing a hand full of itching powder into a crowded bar room. What was there that he could do? He could almost see someone hiding in the deep shadows laughing, yet not well enough to know who or why. Suddenly his hackles rose as he thought he saw a face he knew, snapping awake with sword drawn and with such swiftness it was as if he had appeared there out of thin air he emitted a blood chilling oath, “DIE you Bastard! DIE!!!â€

Balord prepared the note and attached and strapped it to Jolly’s leg and sent him on his way saying, “Good luck and god speed to you.â€

As the unlikely duo hurried to the village the stormed moved toward them with a vengeance. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed as children scurried home to watch in awe, hopping to catch a glimpse of the mighty storm giants said to spawn storms such as this. As one such child rushed by he called out, “Nice bird mister! You better run before you both get wet!â€

As Balord occupied himself with the gigantic meal he noticed that Twilite had gone over too the three travelers who continued to down flagon after flagon of ale at the bar. He sampled his stew they took turns looking in his direction, talking among themselves and questioning Twilite. Balord reached over a opened the note from Freamir, keeping his attention partially diverted to the three at the bar.

"Dearest Balord, I was so pleased that you were able to contact me so soon! I had not even truly expected you to be able too. The Eagle was an apt messenger and quite politely pointed out that he carried a message of some sort. However you came by this magnificent bird and turned it to your will so quickly is nothing short of remarkable. All here at the lake is peaceful as usual, no marauding bandits to fear, though so few have ever been here for any reason that should not cause you fear. I have however sensed some `uneasy' stirrings within the my `plant' realm which lead me to believe your brothers information to be correct in nature. Please dearest, do be careful as I await your return. I hope you travels to be short, yet I fear that may not be so. Remember that I can protect myself as I have for many years before I met you, do not worry for me but rather be aware of thyself and avoid those steps which lead to disaster.

your beloved, Freamir


Just then Balord noticed that two of the three men from the bar were approaching his table so he folded the note and dropped it on the table. Both men stopped quite near the table. They were non descript yet something seemed out of place. The taller one spoke, “We understand you are seeking news of other nearby villages.â€

(OOC Post blitz)


After retiring to his room, Balord removed his tunic and unpacked some of his belongings, looking not only for some dry clothing, but anything that he thought might be of use during the next several days... just to make sure it would be at the ready in case of need. He now wished he had been better prepared when he left Balendorn,
so many useful items had been left behind. It had been a decision made in haste, but then he thought so many great decisions are.
“Oh well.â€

Late that night an eagle drifted slowly down to the murky street below. If anyone had been looking they would have seen the bird hop into the dark shadows between the simple huts that line the street. Moments later a young man emerged and headed toward the ‘Holly Knock Inn’. The figure slipped behind the inn and into deeper darkness.
Jolly had heard of Balord’s tussle earlier and now wanted to have a look about for himself. He chanted a few words of magic, which engulfed him in a dim green glow, as he morphed into a small garden-variety snake. A form, which he hoped, would enable him to slither inside the inn and down to the wine cellar where he heard the thugs were locked up. As he slid along the edge of the building he noticed a small crack where his now reptilian senses told him mice moved in and out. And squeezing through the opening, he slithered along the wall following the sent of the rodents as well as the must smell of stored wine. He located a door with a large crack under it, which allowed him to easily crawl inside and down the stairs so silently that as he brushed by a mouse, touching it before it was aware of his presence. He was able to detect the scent of blood fresh in the air, and followed that to a room with reinforced wooden doors, barred shut with huge wooden beams, again with a large gap under it. He thanked the gods for his luck. As his sleek scaled body neared the doors he could hear low talking. A dim glow came from the crack as he crawled under and he instinctively clung to the wall.

Now inside he could clearly hear the voices.
The first one said, “That was sure a stupid idea Brace had. ’An easy mark.’ he said, Bull *%#&! Look at us now. What do you think will happen to us?â€

As Balord made his way down to the corner of the street his attention was taken by a group of four Drow riders outfitted as light infantry near the City gates. An uneasy feeling enveloped him. “This can’t be good.â€

Balord made his way back to the inn where Twilite greeted him on her way out to do some marketing for Knock. “Good day to you Balord.â€

OOC. Ok, so all the writers seem to be busy more than usual (me included) I will try and bring this section up to date soon as well as try to encourage the others to get back on the story so we can bring tis all together.

Bump
(Gathering background info to finish this saga...)

Bump...been watching and waiting....will jump in as soon as everyone is ready...

My....patience is a virtue huh?