My night time precautions prove effective, as we are untroubled in our sleep – obviously any potential assailants realise that they are up against a master in such matters and decide to wait upon easier sheep to prey upon.  We awake in the morning and venture forth to find the ferry, only to discover that our informants have misinformed up upon this matter as the ferry has been replaced by a fine stone bridge many years ago.  That is always the problem with the memories of elves – they are always thinking back to the time of their youth, rather that focusing on the here and now.  Anyhow, the bridge proves to be sturdy and fully functional in its purpose of conveying us to the fine town of Womford, so we proceed.  Unfortunately, our progress to the fine town of Womford is prevented by the discovery that Womford is actually a miserable hamlet, boasting a dilapidated wharf with three river barges tied up, a run down general store and a rather dubious looking tavern.  Short of alternatives, we fall back upon my normal recourse in any situation, and head for the tavern.  The tavern keeper seems bemused to see so many strangers in at such an early hour, but perks up when I order five tankards of ale (or the nearest potable alternative).  There is one other inhabitant of the bar, who perks up when I include him in our largess.  He drinks our health and then launches into a long (and possibly slightly drunken, which is impressive given the early hour of the morning – obviously a true knight of the tavern) rant about how things have gone to the bad around here.  This is saved from being the usual elven maudlin lament for how so much better things were in the old days, by being specific on what is the problem, the problem in question being river pirates.  I prick up my (undeniably cute) ears at this, for Endrith had tasked me, as the most resourceful and bravest of the Harper agents in the area, with the complex and dangerous task of infiltrating the river pirate organisation, and bringing its leaders to justice (summary or otherwise).  Thus I was most interested in this line of conversation, and plied him with more ale, which he gladly and thirstily accepted, in order to find out what he knew of them.

They were apparently a scourge on all traffic on the river, and indeed three youths from Womford had even joined them as they seemed to be the new power in the area.  They were, apparently, so brazen that one of their boats was even at this very moment tied at the wharf below, the River Lady.  It is captained apparently by a blue man by the name of Shoalar Quandrille.  Fascinated by this information, I finished quaffing my ale, and stroll outside to cast a glance over the River Lady and it’s crew, for the name of Shoalar Quandrille was one I had heard before.  Indeed he was one of the villains that had been named to be by Endrith as a ringleader of the river pirates and someone who should be eliminated as a threat.  I found a vantage point by the corner of a building and easily identified the River Lady, as it is the closest of the three wherries that are moored alongside.  There was a sole crewman visible, swabbing the quaterdeck (as I understand it is termed).

My interest in the vessel was now fully piqued.  The original plan had been to continue onwards to Summit Hall, but this seemed too interesting an opportunity to overlook.  Had I been alone, I would have considered attempting to sign on as a new recruit and infiltrate the organization from the bottom upwards, but with five of us, all heavily armed and diverse, it seemed too complex an enterprise.  Feyabelle, on the other hand, felt that the more direct approach was best, a quick attack on the boat to eliminate it as a threat and find out some information.  I was nervous about what the locals might think if we just suddenly launched an unprovoked attack on a vessel at anchor, so Thorg offered to go and get them to start a fight.  He stomped off down the hill and a brief conversation ensued, which, as Thorg had predicted, rapidly descended into violence.  As he approached, a blue man, obviously Shoalar Quandrille, came out on deck, and when I say blue, he was actually blue skinned.  The conversation was hard to hear, but I think I heard him refer to Thorg as shorty, and soon afterwards, Thorg made a comment about him being untrustworthy on account of his skin colour.  That seemed to work, as the blue man started to wave his hands about as if about to cast a spell.  Thorg hefted his axe, but I was on a hair trigger for this, and shot three magic missiles from my wand at his at the first sign of trouble.  Feyabelle followed this up with a bullseye arrow, and Thorg swung an struck him a glancing blow with his axe.  Sorrel rushed forwards and turned into a bear (again).  The blue man had by this time completed his spell, and a great wave of water rose up and crashed over Thorg and Sorrel, knocking Thorg off his feet and washing him off the gangplank and back onto the quayside.  Arielle used her mystic mastery to impose an area of silence over the whole boat, but then two more deck hands boiled up to join the first one who had dropped his mop and picked up a light crossbow.  Two of the deck hands shot at us with crossbows, while the third, a halfling, attacked Thorg, who was still lying on the floor.  One of the deck hands shot at Arielle, who leapt to the side, and caught the quarrel out of the very air, flipped it over and was able to throw it back, hitting the shooter with his own bolt.  I cast a sleep spell over the boat, and one of the deckhands with a crossbow dropped in a slumber.  Feyabelle hit the blue man with another arrow, and he dived over the side of the boat.  Sorrel lunged forward over Thorg to slash and bite the halfling, as the gangplank creaked ominously under their weight.  Thorg got back onto his feet and grabbed his crossbow, shooting at the deckhand at point blank range, and still managing to miss.  Feyabelle threw another dart at the remaining deckhand, whose shot then hit Thorg.  Thinking quickly, I sent Blinky up to see which direction the blue man was swimming in, then rushed over and fired another five magic missiles into him.  He stopped struggling and started floating downstream.  Feyabelle shot the deckhand with the crossbow, killing him, and Sorrel bit the head off the halfling. Thorg dashed onto the boat next door, grabbing a boathook to try and fish out the body of the blue man, but Arielle dived into the river and pulled it to shore.

We were quickly surrounded by a crowd of locals, who made it clear that rather than regarding us as blood-crazed lunatics, they were fully appreciative of our effort in removing this scourge from their village.   All except Sorrel, who they remained nervous of now that they knew that she could turn into a bear.  We quickly tied up our sleeping captive, and searched the boat.  We found five more dwarvish tomes that looked like the one that Endrith had shown me, plus some money and a finely worked dagger that on later investigation turned out to be a dagger of venom.  The hold was full of supplies and trade goods, presumably looted from passing boats.

Having satisfied ourselves that there was nothing more to be found we started interrogating our prisoner.  He started out cocky, but when we told him of the fates of his captain and the rest of his crew he rapidly became amenable.  It seemed that he had little loyalty for his captain, being just a hired mercenary looking to make a living working as a river pirate.  Their base was somewhere called Riverguard Keep, which was upriver in the Sumber Hills, although towards this end of the hills.  There was an organisation there dedicated to the worship of water, led by a crazy woman in the chapel.  Those in charge were devotees of this cult, but the majority of the pirates were hired mercenaries like him, who were just fighting for the money.  The keep was build right on the river, with a river gate that allowed the boats to access it.  The fort was run by a man called Jolliver Grimjaw.  This name was also not unknown to me, having been mentioned to me by Endrith as another one of the river pirates who needed to be eliminated.  In among all his other ramblings, he happened to mention that they had ferried four captives across to the keep a couple of weeks ago, and the descriptions that he gave matched those of the embassy given by Endrith.  This new information suggested to me that we should change our plans once again.  What was the point of going to Summit Hall if we now had intelligence that they embassy had crossed the river weeks ago.  This was now the freshest lead on the fate of the embassy that we had, so it seemed our bounden duty that we should follow it.  The main issue that we had was that we were not exactly experienced boatmen, and an, it turned out, related issue, was that we had a prisoner, and no obvious law enforcement agency to hand him over to.  However he indicated that his loyalty to the pirates was now gone, and that indeed, he feared if he returned there they would kill him.  The offer of two gold coins a week was enough to buy his loyalty, and he pledged to serve us.  In addition we were able to hire a young chap from the village, who was keen to serve under such an obvious hero as me and strike a blow against the pirates who had been terrorizing the river.

We therefore enjoyed a good lunch provided for us by the grateful townsfolk, and left, sailing upriver, folk-heroes once again in another community.  Surely there will soon be no village, hamlet or other gathering place in the Dessarin Valley that will not have a statue to Erky the Brave?  Anyway, as we sailed up river, we discussed the fort with Thedorm, our new hireling and recent turncoat.  He told us much of the operations of the place, as far as he knew them, and we came up with the outlines of a plan.  We would sail into the water gate around dusk, as if returning from an expedition, which indeed they had been on the verge of doing.   Thedorm would act as steersman and would give the sign and countersign, being known to the gatekeeper.  He would introduce >>>> as a new recruit.  I would disguise myself, being a master of disguise, as the halfling mate, which is a role suitable to my stature.  Meanwhile, I would use my Silent Illusion to show them an image of Captain Quandrille leaving the deck and going below.  This would then hopefully satisfy them that Captain Quandrille was on board, and Thedorm would cover for him, saying that he was busy and did not wish to be disturbed.  The rest of us would then hide below decks.  We would then tie up at the main wharf to unload cargo.  If there were no other cargo unloaders present, we would take the opportunity to sneak into the castle, otherwise we would be introduced as prospective new recruits and rely on that to get us an interview with Jollivar, the commander of the fort.

Catching my breath as I relaxed following this epic encounter, I moved towards Larrakh to examine his body, checking that he was really dead and this wasn’t some devious and underhand trick worthy of such an obviously evil and depraved villain.  He proved to be truly dead; Arielle muttered something about having struck to merely knock him out, but Thorg had no such qualms and the large axe wound in his chest removed any lingering possibility that he was merely faking his demise.  He proved to be equipped with nothing other than some small metallic bars, which Thorg identified as Mirabar trading tokens.  We took them anyway, although I usually have little truck with fiat currencies.

A search of the room proved similarly futile, apart from these 6 stone slabs, each with a human skeleton on it.  Investigation revealed that each skeleton had some kind of injury, and Thorg ventured, from his first hand experience, that these were the sort of injuries that would occur in mining or rockfalls.  These skeletons then appeared to be the mysterious delvers.

I dispatched Sorrel and Thorg to fetch our two prisoners, the cryptic old man in the corridor and the single remaining cultist from the chamber with the statue.  Sorrel returned swiftly, bearing one in paw (bearing – get it), and we started to re-interrogate the old man.  He seemed discombobulated by the death of Larrakh, although continued to sing his praises as a prophet who could interpret the messages from the delvers.  I suggested that his powers of interpretation would be strictly limited from now on, and that possibly more co-operation would be helpful, especially since he had warned Larrakh of our presence.  I mentioned the murdered bodies that we had found, and inferred that things might look bad for him with the local authorities.  He claimed to have nothing to do with any kind of violence or murder, just being part of a local charitable organisation that revered the delvers and sort to do good deeds, organise tombolas, and stuff like that.  I did manage to get to start naming some of the members, reluctantly, when suddenly Constable Harburk burst in with several deputies, and a craven looking half-orc.  He seemed confused to find us, but recognized us and thanked us for our role in rescuing the children.  We explained our role and actions in this underground complex, and he dispatched a constable to investigate our claims of murder victims.  He explained that he had ventured down the main corridor and the ceiling contained a number of cage traps, which had pinned them, but that the half-orc had released them when he realised the importance of whom he had trapped and didn’t want to take responsibility for that action.  The constable returned and confirmed our story, so we jointly exited through the quarry entrance.

Over the next couple of days, we were universally praised as the rescuers of small children and harbingers of all that is good and right in the world.  Not that this seemed to wear off on Sorrel, who has become increasingly grumpy and aggressive since the bear incident.  If I didn’t know better I would say that she was actually becoming part bear.  Certainly the way she tears into her food and devours it raw is enough to unsettle even the most broad-minded and would make her presentation in polite society completely impossible.

I dropped in on Endrith again and updated him on our subterreanean progress.  It was notable that certain senior members of the village ‘vanished’ over the next couple of days, so it seemed that Constable Harburk was obviously following up on the information we had gathered for him.  I was reassured that my original concerns that the good Constable might be in some way associated with this organisation and that its tendrils might have completely ramified Red Larch were not realised, and that he was obviously a dependable servant of law and order (or possibly playing an even deeper game, so completely embedded that his reveal as the evil mastermind behind the who organisation would be even more devastating when it came).

Anyway, Endrith seemed little interested in my conspiracy theories, which he referred to for some reason as ‘advanced paranoia’.  Apparently greater things were afoot – an embassy from Mirabar to Waterdeep had gone missing, and he would like us to investigate their whereabouts.  Of considerable interest was a dwarven scholar who was travelling with them along with a library of ancient texts of inestimable value.  Enderath was concerned that he had only that day purchased an ancient dwarven tome from a passing merchant who in turn had bought it from a mysterious stranger in Womford.  Ancient tomes sounded very interesting to me – I know that some wizards will pay a fortune for old tomes.

I returned to my companions and related the tale of the missing manuscripts to them, and announced my intention to travel to Womford to see if we could locate the rest of them.  I made no mention of how valuable I thought they might be – no need to raise expectations that I might not intend to meet later on.  The ladies however, led by Sorrel, who now insists on being called ‘Storm’, and such a name certainly matches her new temperament, insisted that they would do no such thing.  They had heard also of this missing embassy, but also from some old shepherd of some newly dug graves on the Sumber Hills.  They demanded that we go and investigate them, and then go on to Beliard, which apparently was where the embassy had last been seen.  It was apparently on the way from there to Summit Hall to deposit the body of a knight that they were carrying from Mirabar to be buried in honour there.  Given the appearance of the manuscripts at Womford, which was on the road beyond Summit Hall, it seemed to be that starting at Womford and working back up the road was the obvious and intelligent route of investigation, but Storm was obdurate on the matter, and so I acquiesced gracefully and agreed to accompany them for their own protection and safety.

We departed Red Larch and proceeded, guided by the shepherd up the Larch Path, and then westwards into the hills.  He showed us the graves, which had obviously been recently dug.  There were four graves, each containing a body, covered in stones to stop the scavengers reaching them.  We found some artefacts around as well; an old grey cloak, a broken arrowhead and a javelin, which suggested there might have been a fight here.  The four bodies were:

These were obviously not the members of the embassy.  Two of them appeared to be cultists of some sort – one from the Howling Hatred based on his symbol, and obviously one from some other related cult based on his similar but different symbol.  We surmised that the other two might have been their victims – a battle must have taken place here between cultists and non-cultists, and two of each must have died and been buried.

Feyabelle ranged around and found tracks leading off to the south and the south east.  Away over to the west we saw a tower among the hills with birds wheeling around it.  The shepherd identified this is Feathergale Spire.  The mention of feathers could not but help remind us of Larrakh and his feather masked allies, and we wondered as to the coincident location of this tower so close to Red Larch.  The name of Feathergale also reminded Thorg of something.  He had heard of an organisation of nobles in Waterdeep called the Feathergale somethings, and was keen to find a member called Thurl Merroska.  I assume he must have owed Thorg some money as he seemed quite insistent on finding him.  Storm decided however not to investigate the tower and that we should proceed directly to Summit Hall.  I pointed out that the Dessarin River lay between us and Summit Hall, and the shepherd concurred that it could only be crossed by bridge or ferry.  We decided therefore to proceed southward towards Bargewright Inn and Womford, where there was a ferry apparently.  I agreed readily, since I had always wanted to go to Womford anyway.

We reburied the bodies, and encamped uneventfully for the night with the shepherd.  Our journey southward proceeded at a good pace, as we knew we had many miles to cover to reach the Bargewright Inn before nightfall.  After a few hours though, we saw that we were being pursued by 3 avian shapes.  As they came closer, we realised that there were giant vultures of some kind, and that each had a rider as well.  Their attitude did not look friendly so we decided that to start shooting.  Feyabelle cast Hunter’s Mark and shot the middle one, hitting him squarely in the chest.  Thorg shot with his crossbow and missed.  Arielle hit one of the wingmen with a dart and I then used my wand to send three Magic Missiles after him.  He fell lifeless from the back of his bird.  The leader though swooped down on Feyabelle and hit her with a javelin.  We returned fire, although Feyabelle missed this time because of the javelin wound.  Thorg hit, but only a glancing blow with his quarrel.  I used another Magic Missle and Arielle hit with another dart.  Storm stepped forward as the leader flew over and cast Thunderwaveat him, but this failed to unseat him although it did cause him to miss with his second javelin.  The other wingman also cast a javelin, but missed.  We returned fire again, and managed to kill the leader by combining on him.  The last wingman broke off and left, but we also felled him before he could escape out of range.  The three birds flapped off.  We examined the three bodies.  The leader looked well dressed and elegant, obviously a man of breeding an importance.  The two wingmen on the other hand looked starved and emaciated.  Each of them was dressed in a white cloak with black feathers and blue leather armour with the symbol of the Howling Hatred.  We took the cloaks and armour and left the bodies for the buzzards.

Pressing on, we reached the Bargewright Inn just as they were shutting the gates for the night.  We entered and found the inn itself, in the centre of a gaggle of lesser dwellings and hovels that had gathered around it and immured themselves for their own protection.  The inn seemed seedy and run down, a hive of scum and villainy that reminded me of some of the less salubrious places I had frequented when short of funds in Waterdeep.  The barkeeper seemed friendly though, although not forthcoming on the subject of manuscripts or tomes.  We settled in to spend the evening in pleasant company, while keeps ours ears and eyes open for any strange rumours or stranger folk.  We shall certainly take precautions against having our throats cut for our valuables this night.

I was relaxing in Red Larch with my new found companions celebrating my heroic deeds in defeating the Necromancer of Lance Rock, regaling the locals with tales of derring-do and toying gently with some carbonised lamb, when suddenly a hue and cry went up from outside in the street.  Arielle, who had been deep in conversation with Thorg, having discovered a common interest in geology and speleology, cried out in horror, for she had forseen from the local morphology that the area might be subject to sinkholes.  When we emerged into the sunlight, we saw that Arielle’s fears for the local subsoil was justified, for there was a large sinkhole that had opened in the road near the crossroads.  I boldly led my companions forward, for a large crowd had gathered around the hole, with some village elders attempting to hold people back.  The villagers were distressed however for several children had fallen into the sinkhole, although fortunately they appeared to be unharmed, and standing on a pile of earth in the centre of the hole.  There appeared to be large chamber below that the sinkhole had opened into, so I retired to a nearby unoccupied doorstep and sat down in order to project my senses into those of Blinky my familiar.  We swooped down through the hole and around the chamber.  It appeared unoccupied although there was a door on the eastern wall and a corridor exiting to the north.  The chamber itself was roughly finished and of exceptionally large size.  I am no expert in such matters, unlike Thorg, but I am surprised that the village is still standing at all with a void of such size under it.

Returning from my trance, I heard the village elders continuing to warn the others to stay away from the hole and muttering about not disturbing the ‘delvers’ whoever they might be.  They were attempting to reassure the village that the children were unharmed and could easily wait for a while to be rescued.  The rest of the crowd did not seem to accept this advice however, and rope was rapidly thrust into our hands.  We quickly belayed it off on Thorg, whose low height and large waist eminently qualified him for the role of bollard.  The children were quickly rescued, to the relief and acclamation of the crowd.  Questioning of the elders about these ‘delvers’ provided no information, just mumbling and refusals, so we decided rapidly to investigate the hole below, even though the elders forbade it.  It seems that this village is not entirely in favour of gerontocracy.  We climbed down the rope and investigated the room.

The room itself was full of strange buffeting drafts and gusts of wind.  The door to the east turned out to be of stone, and Thorg ascertained that it slid to one side.  On the floor in front of it were two used robes and a half empty waterskin.  From behind the door we could hear the noise to birds chirping and singing.  We decided instead to investigate the corridor to the north.  This was a roughly formed corridor that sloped upwards and then came to a wooden door, sloped back between floor and ceiling.  We opened this, and discovered that the corridor continued, but lit by daylight, as it soon opened out above ground.  I snuck forward and discovered that it opened out in a discrete and hidden corner of the town quarry.  Methinks that Madame Mellikho does indeed have something to hide from us.

We returned, unseen due to my outstanding powers of concealment, to the first chamber, and opened the stone door to the east.  Beyond was a straight and well made corridor, sloping downwards initially and then flattening out.  Where it flattened out stood two large statues of dwarves with axes and shields, facing one another with their backs to the walls.  Blinky flew beyond to the far end and I saw with her own eyes that there was another stone door at the far end.  The ceiling of that far part was also strange, as it was made of an iron framework with ten-foot square panels of stone within them.  My experienced senses and rational sense of survival that only fools would call paranoia suggested to me that this might a trap.

Examining the statues, we decided that they did not appears to be traps themselves, but instead rather ornate doors that slid to one side.  There are advantages to having a dwarf around with his knowledge of stonework, as well as disadvantages.  We slid the northern dwarf to one side (a sentence one rarely writes), and saw a corridor beyond.  This ran north then east for a while, before opening into a chamber.  Blinky, scouting ahead, came back and reported that there were some people lying in it, and some rats.  The smell suggested that the people lying down were probably dead.  We advanced into the chamber, and were attacked by the rats; fortunately on this occasion, the dead did not rise but stayed conventionally motionless.  My companions made short work of the rats, and so I continued to scout down the corridor beyond.  They examined the bodies – they had been knifed to death it appeared, and each of them had a strange rune carved into their forehead, deep enough to have cut into the bone.  The corridor beyond opened into another chamber, this time we a black rock floating in the centre of it.  This seemed very curious behaviour for a rock – even Thorg was surprised, although he managed to restrain his emotion to just a brief flicker of his right eyebrow.  Investigation revealed that there was a column in the centre of the room that held anything placed in that area aloft and prevented it falling, although did not prevent us from moving things what were floating.  The amusement value of this started to pale after a while, even for Thorg, so we continued once again.

The corridor beyond opened out into a much larger chamber, more of a size with that by which we had first entered the labyrinth.  The centre was dominated by a life-sized stone statue of a dwarf, again with axe.  The statue appeared broken and repaired, and was supported by a wooden frame.  Around it was a circle of pebbles, within which were some coins and gems, and an ornate dagger.  As we circled to the front of the statue, we saw that the frame had some writing on it saying ‘Petrified iron(?) dwarf, found broken in Red Larch West Quarrel DR 1556’.  As we were pondering upon this strange label, and the idea of an underground museum in a village like Red Larch, and why anyone would collect broken petrified dwarfs, the previously unmentioned in this account door on the east wall (there was also one on the west wall) slid open and three men rushed in, in feather masks and with the same strange rune heretofore mentioned emblazoned on their leather armour.  They were brandishing scimitars in a manner which implied that they were not soliciting donations for good causes or inviting us for a cup of tea, and the leader shouted something in a rather cliched evil-villain manner.  We drew our weapons in return and Sorrel, in a rather surprising move, suddenly turned into a brown bear, although our surprise at this was as nothing compared to that of the villains.  Despite this, three more of them piled in and joined the fray, although two did so by shooting from beside the door.  The distance did not help them because bears are quite fast across the ground, so they rapidly found themselves up close and personal with Sorrel.  The fight was quickly over.  During it, one of the villains had crossed the line of pebbles, so we assumed that it was safe to do so, and recovered some gems, gold and silver pieces and the rather nice dagger, which I tucked into my sash for safe keeping.  We also tied up the last fanatic, whom Arielle had knocked unconscious with her staff.

The door through which they had come proved to open into another corridor, with a door at the far end and an old man sitting on a stool in front of it whittling on some wood.  He appeared not to have heard the fight, and was obviously scared to see us, partially because we were armed and bloody, and possibly also because we were accompanied by a brown bear.  We questioned him, which was rather strange, and he assured us that he knew little of what was happening, save that Larrakh was beyond the door, and that he was a wise and powerful man who led the Howling Hatred, as the acolytes we had just slaughtered were called.  The room beyond was the abode/tomb of the delvers which we had heard mentioned above.  The Hatred used these tunnels – he was unsure of their relationship with the delvers.  He did know that Larrakh had great control of the spirits of the air.  It was since he had come that the birds had gathered and the strange gusts of wind appeared.

We decided to tie this irritating old man up, but as we moved to do so, he shouted a brief warning before we could restrain him.  Irritated we bound him tighter and burst into the room beyond.  This was another large, although higher ceilinged chamber.  There were a number of strange edifices on the walls, and in the centre various monoliths and triliths, some standing and some fallen on the floor.  It was lit by a single lantern on the floor in the centre,  I advanced into the room,  keeping to the side walls, to scan for Severin or any of his allies.  Fayabelle dashed in to take cover behind one of the monoliths.  Arielle ran over the other side and took cover behind some monoliths there.  It was only as Thorg stomped into the room directly towards the lantern in the centre that a figure appeared from behind another monolith on the far side of the room, muttering an incantation, which seemed to have little effect.  Sorrel bounded into the room in bear form and launched herself across the fallen monoliths towards the lone cultist.  I whipped out my wand and used three charges to power a flight of five missiles towards him, but he spoke another incantations and the missiles flamed out before they reached him.  Fayabelle shot him with an arrow, but that too bounced off before it hit him, and Arielle’s attacked were similarly ineffective, as was Thorg’s axe.  He then waved his arms again and a great gust of wind blew forth from him,. rocking Arielle and Thorg on their feet.  Sorrel as a bear tried to grapple him to the ground, but he writhed out of her grasp.  I again used my wand, and again the missiles were stopped by an invisible barrier.  This time though, Fayabelle’s arrow struck true.  Arielle kept her footing to whack him with her staff, and the blast of wind stopped as he reeled back.  Thorg then stepped forward to deliver the death blow.  Larrakh collapsed and melodramatically muttered ‘Aerisi’ as he breathed his last.