At the time, the trek up mount Orgarath was the bleakest trip I had yet taken in my life.  There would be darker ones, but after this one I would be better girded for such dread and despair.  It was late afternoon when we set off.  I had a thought that we should probably rest at this camp for the night before heading uphill, but none of us could stomach sleeping in the place where so much recent carnage occurred.  We followed what must have been the same trail that the campers had come from, and we all expected to see the father at any moment.  Turmond and Forcellus both walked with drawn swords.  The path wound through the woods going ever upwards.  Even in the low light we could periodically catch glimpses of the mountain above us through the trees.

The cabin caught us by surprise.  We rounded a corner and there it was.  There was a clearing beyond it that looked like it might have been tilled soil at one point.   We all stopped.  There was smoke coming from the crude stone chimney.  Perhaps this was not the home of our campers.  We cautiously approached the door, which we discovered was open a crack.  There was a boulder partially in the doorway which blocked the door from closing.  Forcellus knocked on the door with his sword hilt.  "Anyone here?" he inquired loudly.  There was no answer.  Forcellus and Turmond moved the boulder a bit and fully opened the door.  Aside from the glow of a fire at the hearth the cabin was dark.  Someone had been here after the camp disaster.  Forcellus entered the cabin and shortly reported that there was no one in it.  We discussed spending the night there and agreed that if there were a madman wandering about, we were better off in the cabin than on the ground somewhere outside of it.
So we all trooped in.  We discovered a few candles and lit them.  Aside from a layer of dirt and soot on everything, the cabin gave no indication of any disfunction.  It looked like the cabin of a happy family.  There were small homemade dolls.  Were were pretty sure that we were indeed in the cabin of the unfortunate family.  Environment Empathy confirmed this, but also confirmed the presence of distress and despair.  We built up the fire and reluctantly bedded down for the night.

At some point maybe an hour later, I awoke with a start.  there was a great deal of smoke in the room.  Alarmed, I jumped up and looked for fire, and found none.  The smoke was apparently pouring from the hearth.  The chimney had become blocked.  From the cover of soot we had discovered earlier I should have suspected a problem, but the fire had drawn well when we stoked it so I had assumed it was fine.  The cloud of smoke was thick at the ceiling so I crouched and roused the others.  We ran to open the door.  And even though it opened inward and had no obstruction, it would not budge.  Suddenly there was a change in the smoke, it began to rise a bit.  The chimney was open!  We all momentarily turned and looked toward it.  There was a rumbling sound and down crashed branches and a substantial log.  Someone was on the roof dropping these down.  Then the chimney closed again.  It seems our madman was attempting to asphyxiate us.  It took Forcellus and Turmond using their swords to pry open the door.  It was being held by unknown forces.  I suspected Kinesis of some kind.  Forcellus squeezed out.  We all suddenly realized why the boulder was there.  We were not the only ones to have received this treatment.

Next: Our Green Nemesis

Needing a bit of cheer, we stopped off at a tavern in the center of town.  We found rooms for the night in an empty inn.  We quickly came to discover that there was no cheer to be found in Morban.  We all felt that our quest was probably a waste of time and the townspeople we came in contact with seemed to wordlessly echo that sentiment.  The ones that did speak seemed to treat the darkness as a homegrown moral failing.  They railed against their own ancestors for deserting Fuegon and other old deities.  But mostly, they did not speak of anthing.  There few in the tavern that night were a depressing lot.  But then again so were we. I suppose I should have attempted to provide some levity or solace - but I could not bring myself to it and in the end we simply crawled off to bed.
The next morning we retrieved our horses from the stable and set off.  We were a dispirited group.  Young Turmond alone seemed to posses some degree of hope, it was he who roused us in the morning and called for the horses.  But perhaps it was not hope, but simply a youthful sense of adventure.  Forcellus was grim, but resolute.  Veltek and I were both lost in undeclared thought.  I did not ask him - and he was uncompelled to ask me.   We rode in silence.  Forcellus took the lead and we followed.
I imagined that the road north and then west led us further into the darkness.  I could not really tell, it just felt that way.  At what must have been midday, we were moving through a pine forest in the foothills of Forbesh.  Forcellus called out "stop!"  I could smell the dead remains of a fire.  He must have found a camp.  He dismounted, then we all did.  There was a clearing ahead and I had a pang of fear that brigands might accost us here.  That fear was strengthened when I heard an urgent exclamation of surprise first from Forcellus.

I cast an Environment Empathy.  I felt fear in the air.  And violent anger, sadness and also despair.  Arriving at the clearing, I took the first step toward understanding.  The camp was still laid out for sleeping.  Four bedrolls, an old fire, some provisions and three dead bodies.  "Orog?" Turmond asked, breathing hard and pulling his sword.  "I doubt it" said Forcellus.  "There are still provisions".  "Nor brigands for the same reason."  I walked into the center of the clearing, then to each corpse.  This had been a family.  There was a  mother and two children, one an older boy and the other a little girl.

I cast Vibroturgy on each victim.  The facts of the tragedy became clearer, though not yet the reasons.  All three had been possessed by fear initiated by someone they trusted.  Perhaps the father, whose bedroll read only confusion, panic and hopelessness.  The daughters death had been terrifying, but mercifully quick.  The son seemed to have tried to defend himself, but to no avail.  The mother had not died at the hands of her presumed husband, but by her own hand.  Well beyond her fear, she had been overcome by sadness and despair.  Forcellus and Turmond corroborated the sad tale with their tracking skills and also announced that the man had run off in the direction that we were headed.  Not a cheery thought.  We returned to the horses and attempted to mount, but the beasts simply refused to go further.  They had endured all they were willing to.  By our very crude calculations, we felt we had only a few hours before the horses would have been useless anyway.  We would be ascending Mount Orgarath to find the presumed dragon's lair.  So we took what provisions we though we would need.  Tied the horses to long tethers and marched into the blackness toward a dubious end and a crazed murderer.

Next: Mount Orgarath

My best hope for finding an orb of Fire was with a practitioner of the Fuegon faith.  But even when the ancient Rayla had made the first staff, Fuegon had been long gone.  Perhaps they found a relic or some other source.  If only Alcazar were still alive.  The great mage of Keldrun Fane had listed in his journal an "orb dedicated to Fire" as part of his belongings, yet no such orb was ever found at the DOM University, where all of his artifacts were held.  Perhaps he only possessed a gem capable of holding Energetics.  Energetics is born of the Fire element.  There exists several of those.  My telepathic amulet being one.  But the ancient Rayla sought an alliance of the elements, so there had to be some form of agreement between Avatars dedicated to the four elemental faiths.  That meant that we needed the Fire orb of an agreeable Avatar. I hoped that this would not mean a trip to an Orog shaman.  I could not imagine them ever agreeing to part with such a stone if they possessed one.

In the DOM University library I had been jumping from book to book, when I happened upon a few scribbled notes in the margins of a rather sketchy history of the Fuegon faith.  The notes were written by Alcazar!  My heart had began pounding as I realized that he was commenting on the legendary Temple of Fuegon, a place lost in antiquity.  At one point the history described a stronghold of dragons.  And in a barely discernible scribble, Alcazar had written "Forbesh."  I knew then where we had to go to that province.  There is a huge table of stone in the mountains of Forbesh.  I had seen it high above us during our DOM Triplo march.  I commented at the time that it would make a magnificent dragon's lair, especially as there was a large cavern at it's back.  It was enormous.  I also recalled the dragon worked into the crest of Forbesh.  I began to fantasize about finding the lost Temple of Fuegon.  I told myself that hunting down my fantasy could quite possibly result in a fantastic dead end.  But I had to try.

I knew the trail north from Hamellile.  I had been hunting down royal regalia on it not that long ago (at least by Raylan standards).  It led to the west of  Glamellile, and then north to Forbesh.  We rode on horseback, riding through river valleys and fording the many small creeks that ran southeast eventually merging and rolling into the Dorcer Sea. The darkness outside of Hamellile had increased measurably since the few days of our arrival in Hamellile.  And it was cold.  Even more oppressive was an indescribable gloom which hung in the air.  It became impossible to think of anything that might bring cheer or a laugh.  And it was quiet.  Deathly quiet.  No birds in the afternoon, no crickets in the evening.  It was impossible to tell what time of day it was.  I imagine it was evening when we reached the city of Morban, but it was so dark that it could easily have been midnight.  We had been making slow progress, as our horses were extremely skittish, and we could barely see to make our way.  We entered the south city gate (one of two in Morban).  We were not hailed in any way.  We did not expect to be, we sent no message and we rode in simple garb, and on humble mounts.  Morban sits upon a hillside overlooking a large lake directly to the north.  It is a mainly a mining town, but it's position at the largest mountain pass between east and west also made it a trading destination.  But there were few people in the streets as we rode through.  We decided not to visit the castle.  We might be either entertained or detained for good or ill, but in any case we would lose valuable time.  Or at least I hoped we would make it valuable.

Next: The Unfortunate Travelers