Another arrow buried itself in the dead tree beside the others with a thunk. Streaks of sweat running down either side of his face, Belàldur watched the arrow strike from his standpoint sixty yards away. With a look of dissatisfaction, the green-eyed elf reached back over his shoulder to grab another arrow. Behind him, the fool human was still prattling on about Tangadorin. Belàldur made no effort to stop him; he considered the soldier’s proselytizing to be a good source of motivation to reach his training goals quickly.

Nock.
Draw.
Release.

Another arrow sped towards the tree. As it struck home, something the man said caught Belàldur’s attention, and he turned to speak. He knew that he shouldn’t, going against the zeal of the newly converted was like sailing against the wind, but he couldn’t resist. “You think it was the Will of Tangadorin that got the job done today?” he asked in a quiet but firm tone, looking the man square in the eye, “I’ll tell you what won the day out there: Flames and fear.”

“Think of the orcs’ perspective. They were spread out, surrounding the keep, thinking all they had to do was to wait for Ynivax and his forces to die or break, starve them out. And they were nearly at that point. Then, the flames start up, coming out of the ground at seemingly random places. Started by my companions, who had snuck out on the field, and from the archers in the Keep, who fortunately had plenty of oil to make fire-tipped arrows. Then, arrow attacks start coming from different directions, followed by an attack from the forces suddenly coming out of the Keep, and then, as the final wave against the bow, a massed cavalry charge straight into the forces protecting the orcs’ commander. It’s no wonder they broke.”

“Like most of the battles I’ve seen, the side that runs first dies. It was ugly, but we got the job done. Some of our forces ran too in the chaos, but most held firm, and we got them out. No magic, no miracles, no hero’s tales, just the right circumstances and a bit of luck.”

“The mission to get the folks in the fort ready to escape hadn’t exactly gone according to plan either, but it worked. The three of us were supposed to sneak in and get Ynivax’ men some healing potions and brief them on our plan. The enemy was spread thin, but I spent most of the way to the keep worried that the orcs would hear the human’s loud breathing. I was so distracted that when we were getting up to the keep, I fell right to the ground. The things in my pack made so much clatter the dullest orc alive would’ve noticed it.”

“Then, to dive deeper into the piranha, I tried to put some arrows into the oncoming orcs, and only managed to drive my newly-purchased bow into the dirt. I’m still paying for that one.” Belàldur winced, the pain in his side surging with the memory of the wound there. Turning back to the tree, he fired off a quick arrow at it, then faced the soldier again to continue: “Luckily, the archers in the keep were on watch, and when my two friends got over the wall and let them know what was going on, their fire arrows spooked off the orcs. I made one of them pay when it panicked. As I said, the first side to run dies.”

“All in all, not pretty in the least, but we did get it done.” Facing the tree, he raised the six foot long elm bow once again towards the target. The soldier started up again about Tangadorin. Apparently, all it took was a little healing magic and a few words to convert some humans into devoted lunatics.

Nock.
Draw.
Release.

Thunk.

Satisfied, Belàldur put down his bow and arrows and turned about, looking for a good place to sit. Once comfortable, he thrust his hand into his pouch and pulled out a pipe and some leaf. He lit it, took a few puffs, and let out a long, slow exhaled cloud. He held the pipe out to the soldier, offering it to him. “Here, have some of this, you can relax and think on your new beliefs. And no matter what you believe, remember this: When you’re in stormy seas, always keep your wits about you.”

It is a cold winter’s day.

Winds howl.

Snow swarms any walking in the storm. The village has shut themselves in to protect themselves from the storm. Those who do go out, do so if they have too.

The sun has not been seen for days. The storm clouds have eaten it, and as the clouds eat their meal, the storm rages. It is the time of Talvi Paksu (Winter’s Deep). For three months, far to the north, the sun dips so low that the land is shadowed by perpetual night.

Myrskyjen Pimeys.

Storms of Darkness.

Once it was thought Tapio created this time to mock and harm his people. After all, Tapio is a capricious god, and when he deems it is time to recognize his worshipers, he does so by taunting them.

Yet, here in the village that is not the case. This time of the year is seen as Odotus (The Waiting). Since Børæn returned to his home, and took his rightful place, many things changed. The most notable one is the worship of the goddess Mesha. Many looked skeptical at Børæn’ belief, but with patience, the Wolf Tribe slowly begun to see that Mesha was more closer to the way of the northern tribes, and now the Wolf Tribe venerates here.

The lodge is quiet.

Gone are the rowdy feasts.

The endless drinking.

The continuous boast of deeds great and small. It is the morning, and the lodge is devoted to its’ other role; learning.

The children of the tribe, sit and learn. Besides the Mesha, Børæn brought with him teachers. With them, a goal of teaching his people so they could have a more secure future.

A old man sits by a small fire. He is hunched over, and his body shows the signs of many battles. Sitting in front of him are the youngest of the tribe.

The old man is happy. This is his favorite task; teaching the children.

His voice is strong, despite his weak appearance. It is a voice capturing everyones attention. Everyone stops their tasks, turn, and listen to the man. He speaks:

Many are the tales of Børæn and the deeds he accomplished. There are many tales and lessons to learn, but this tale is a simple one.

See Børæn riding with great speed to the village.

Børæn is angry. His anger builds as he gets closer to Enonia.

His anger is one of helplessness.

The events at Irecia have angered him. The men trapped by the foul Vihreä-iho (Greenskins or Orcs) fuels this anger.

He wanted to save those men.

Wet his sword in the blood of the Vihreä-iho.

He wanted nothing more then send them to Tulipalot Helvetti.

Yet here he is, riding in failure.

Though Belàldur tried to calm Børæn, Børæn still raced off.

In truth, this anger was not about failure, it was about the fact they could do nothing for the warriors trapped there.

Arriving in Enonia, see Børæn stalk to the tavern he and his companions frequent. All who see the warrior, know a storm has arrived. They run from his wake.

See his knuckles grow white as he clenches his mighty fists.

Hear his footsteps roll as thunder across the tundra.

See the door burst into fragments as Børæn’s storm breaks.

The storm has arrived.

It is obvious to all he is angry.

The storm has come.

As it makes its’ way to the back of the tavern, no one stands in his way.

The storm hits the companions, and his fist pounds the table. It is like lightning, and the table splinters into shrapnel.

See one try to speak, but his words are swallowed as the gaze of Børæn’s anger touches him.

Hear Børæn speak, and hear the strength of his words fill the air.

“Cowards. Drunks. You lack honor.”

“You knew we were to ride to Irecia. Some of us did, while the rest of you still celebrate a victory that is now over. You are like all lazy people here in the south. You are soft, weak, and live in ignorant bliss ignoring the danger that blights this land.”

“Do you care that Irecia is nearly gone? Do you care that those warriors are near death? Why you sit here, drinking and laughing; while those warriors eat leather, eat dirt, and still do their duty.”

“Cowards.”

“Your greed speaks of you. Your greed shows you for what you are.”

“Grab your weapons, find your spines, and remove your asses from this tavern. Because if you do not remove them, I will remove them for you.”

Though they try to speak, one look at Børæn shows that he is not to be tested.

“We have three days to rescue the men at Irecia. You have ten minuets to be outside. We ride as soon as Hemming gathers the men.”

See Børæn turn and leave the tavern, but before doing so, gives the tavern keeper some coins.

Hear Børæn speak with shame, “I am sorry for the damage, sometimes I get a bit angry.”

Hear the tavern keeper stammer, “If that was a bit angry, I do not want to see you really angry.”

See Børæn look over his shoulder. Hear him say to the tavern keeper, “If that sorry lot do not move their asses, you will see my true anger.”

With that, see Børæn leaves the tavern.

He is too ride again.

He and Winter’s Bite will resume the hunt.

Tooth and Sword.

Claws and Axe.

Vihreä-iho blood will flow as a spring river fat with the flow of melting ice.

The two will kill many before they return to Enonia again.

Dearest Ursana,

I have arrived, safe and sound, to a town called “Enonia”, at the Eastern Borders.

My trip was not without incident, though.
The caravan I was traveling with at one point was overwhelmed by bandits and a few of us surrendered. The others were eventually killed anyway, for ‘sport’. But the bandits were intrigued by my lockpick set and other similar items. These men were primarily rough thugs, with no assests to speak of, beyond their swords and clubs – completely lacking in any form of subtlety or cleverness. I convinced them that I would like to join their gang and could contribute by teaching them the more artistic elements of thievery. They kept me under very close watch, but let me live under those terms. Eventually, during a rowdy celebration where many of them were deeply inebriated, I managed to slip away unnoticed. I even liberated my own belongings. And a modest ‘Tutelage Fee’.

I have found others here who are of a like mind in trying to improve the world, not simply miring oneself in petty personal concerns.
I even have spent a little time at the Temple of the Light – that religion that always talks about enlightenment and improving mankind’s lot in life. Sadly, I won’t be officially joining them. Though I hear other factions and temples are more so, I still found them a bit too hung up on rules and details for my tastes. But they mean well and many are kind folk. One of them has recently loaned me an enchanted item that he said he believes will help me more than him. Can you imagine? We have never met or even heard of each other until a few months ago, and after a few conversations he trusted me enough to let me use it. Of course, he said it was a temporary arrangement and that he would have some longer acquaintances of his make sure I kept it and used it for good (more about that in a moment). But I believe he is not fool enough to think I couldn’t slip away with it, if I was of a mind to.

Since I settled in here, I have received a few invitations to join ‘adventuring parties’ and venture forth into unknown or dangerous territory. Already I have seen some amazing sights and been of some minor assistance.
On one, we were set upon by spiders. The size of PONIES. One of whom TALKED as well as you or I. They tried to wall us in with giant webs, but we slew them. We found some town soldiers who had been paralyzed and stored like flies and brought them back home, where nearly all of them recovered.
On another, we defeated some goblyns and falcon-sized wasps. And we located a long-lost hollow from which one of the Olden Gods, Meisha, still communicates.

I have hopes to make greater contributions soon, though. An old religious site was wrested from demonic creatures that had claimed it, and some of the religious folk may be occupied with matters related to that. I have heard talk of expeditions to the Fallen City of Irecia being mounted and hope to be included.
Perhaps the most exciting news, I’ve saved for last. I was right about great-Grandmother Salome’s things! They aren’t simple junk, or mere books of gypsy tales and curses. Not all of it anyway. The items, I still have no understanding of. Maybe they are just trinkets. But the books – some of them are actually starting to make sense. I think there’s real power there and a genuine reason she was so revered as “Salome the All-Seeing”. I believe I’m on the verge on being able to duplicate some of the less intricate tricks and am eager to give it a try.

Give my love to our parents
I don’t know when the next letter might arrive, but I miss you. Be well!

Ostlen

Belàldur waited silently in the shadows as Børæn performed his strange ritual with his knife. By this point, the elf was well accustomed to bizarre human behavior, but this tendency for humans to cut themselves open offended him on a practical level. In his experience, bloody hands only attracted sharks.

He had volunteered to help Børæn deliver Ja’Kar’s body here to the village – not that Børæn needed the help, the giant of a man seemed to hoist and carry the corpse as effortlessly as Belàldur wore his cloak. But Belàldur knew the way, and besides, he owed at least this much to the fallen monk.

As Børæn ended his formal address and began to talk freely with the others, Belàldur stepped out of the corner of the tent – he had instinctively gone to the place where he was least likely to be seen or noticed upon arrival – and made his way towards an old man with tears still in his eyes, with a group of grieving goblyns nearby. “Greetings, I’m Belàldur,” he said with a slight bow, “I see the news of Ja’Kar’s passing has hit you hard. I would tell you of the events that led to his death, and the good that has been done for the world thanks to his sacrifice.”

“I’m sure you know of the old abandoned monastery that had become the home of chaos and evil. Perhaps you’ve heard some of the tales of the horrors that were within, and the many humans, elves and others that had died in there, or worse. If not, count yourself lucky, and I’ll not tell any of those now, you’ll sleep better. Enough to say that the corruption of that place was spreading, and the only hope we had of ending it was to dive deep into that river of piranha.”

“There were seven of us – Ja’Kar, Mazlor and two of his followers, Jorann, Pyria and me. We went deeper into that demon pit than ever before, and came to a room with rows of thick columns. Not wanting to be surprised by creatures hiding behind them, Ja’Kar and I decided to scout ahead… he took the right wall, I the left. Unfortunately, there were two things we didn’t know: first, this room was somehow enchanted so that at any moment you could wink out of existence and appear instantly in a completely new spot. Second, there were horrific floating creatures guarding the way, ones that we’d seen before. Like small flying ships with metal undersides, that could project deadly beams at their enemies.”

“Their metal hulls were too strong for weapons to penetrate, so out of desperation I leaped up to grab one by its stalks and pull it to the ground. So there I was, on top of this thing holding onto it with the help of Pyria as we tried to stab its fleshy top, when it happened – I suddenly found myself kneeling over the lifeless body of Ja’Kar. He had sacrificed himself by facing one of those damnable things alone, giving us time to grapple with the others. Thanks to his last act, we were able to survive and destroy those floaters, although some of us were seriously injured.”

“Then the next wave hit the shore – something again appeared out of thin air in this room that we were sure was another agent of chaos that we’d have to fight to the death. It turned out to be that large fellow over there quaffing drink that you’ve already met – Børæn – and fortunately for us, he has a good heart beneath all that bulk. He helped us get to the one place down there that was clear of corruption, and the “holy men” of the group worked their healing magic on the injured. We spent the day resting there, then set sail again into the depths.”

“Soon the magic of the clerics was needed again, to defend us from twisted wizards that had the ability to control minds. Pyria’s sorcery was also key, she was able to vanish a moving wall of magical force that threatened to squash us flat. And Børæn, despite his youth, proved his worth as a warrior.”
“As we approached the eye of the storm, I opened a door and my mind was hit by an evil force that tried to take control,” Belàldur grins, “but my natural stubbornness won out and I told it to take a giant leap off a short pier. Inside the room, there was the rogue apprentice wizard we’d been looking for, and a creature that had to be a full-blown demon of the Chaos dimension, right in the middle of a giant portal.”

“The wizard cast an illusion that made him seem to be in four places at once, and I fired arrow after arrow in anger as my comrades charged in. But soon, I heard the eerie sound of one of those floating creatures coming up behind us! I slammed the door shut, holding it closed as best as I could while yelling at the others to hurry, hurry! The door exploded and I was knocked backwards to the ground…”

“I’ll leave it to others to describe what happened next, because I was on my back looking up at the ceiling, but the next thing I knew the demon’s voice was rumbling in my ears, giving a warning that this was not the end of its attempts. The flying creature fell to the ground with a crash, and I looked up to see the portal closing. Somehow, we had done it.”

“That alone was not enough to fully cleanse the place, as it turned out. Just when we’d caught our breath, a wizard wearing a red and white striped robe appeared, and told us in order to truly purify the monastery, a life with powerful magic within it had to be sacrificed… his own. He seemed surprised when I asked his name, apparently none had thought to do so before, and he answered, ‘Toorak.’ I thanked Toorak for making the ultimate sacrifice, and wished for the deep waters to welcome him home.”

“The dark corruption of the monastery is gone now, there will be no more reality shifts, no more foul creatures created, or innocents taken to that place to be twisted in the image of chaos. The shadow of that place is gone, though I have no desire to ever return to it. Never again will this land be cursed by the evil of that place, and never again will we see the floating tower that had been Toorak’s home.”

Belàldur reached up to lightly touch the grey leather headband at his forehead. “I wear this to honor Ja’Kar’s memory and his sacrifice. Ja’Kar and Toorak – 2 names I’ll remember of humans that gave their lives for the greater good. I’m sorry for your loss, and if there’s anything I can ever do for you, I’m at your service.”

“Now,” he said with a lighter tone as a smile played on his lips, “where can I get some of that drink, before Børæn finishes it all?”

The old man, shoulders slumped with age, and body criss-crossed with the scars of a life of fighting, slowly enters into the lodge. He leans on his staff, and it taps a steady beat as the iron shod tip, strikes the stone floor.

The feasting has finished.

Tap.

The casks of ale are open.

Tap.

The mead fills many of drinking horns, large clay jugs, and even larger pewter mugs.

Tap.

Bottles of spirits litter some of the tables. They are being drunk by those showing their drinking skills, and ability to drink more than a normal person should.

Tap.

The fire glows as flame turn to embers.

Tap.

All conversation ends, and the old one arrives at the lodge’s center.

Tap.

The sounds of silence deafen. Even the intake of astonished gasps seem eaten by the silence.

The man speaks, and despite his weak exterior the voice is strong, filling the lodge.

“It was this day, many years ago when the world cringed and Chaos rolled across it. Børæn had been gone from the tribe for 7 years. His journeys took him far from the tribe, and his clans. Here is the tale of how he came to honor the dead.”

The man walks, his stride is purposeful. In one hand he holds a staff. The staff looks as if it is twig. On his shoulder he carries a body. It is wrapped in a strange cloth made of a grey leather that shimmers. The burden would slow a weaker man.

Børæn is not a weak man.

See him stride into a small village. The village has three slabs of stone forming a tent. A shrine is under construction. In the middle of this village stands a glaive. Vines sprout from it, and flowers hang weeping. Stranger still there is a circle of goblins sitting in a circle around this glave and weep. Even more, see a old man, sitting close by weeping of his lost.

Now see Børæn, gently lay his burden upon the ground. See him place the staff next to it, as if it was the weapon of a great chieftain.

See Børæn as he stands, gathering himself.

Hear as Børæn speaks.

“I am Børæn, and I have returned to you a hero. I have been told that this man, Ja’Kar, meant much to you.”

See Børæn stand trying to show kindness. This is still before the time of the crowning. The time of when he killed the Orc Chieftain Bloodmaw of the Bloodfang. Before the time of his his destruction of the Clan That Will Not Be Named. Before the time when he leads the Wolf, the Sword and the Axe in the war to destroy the aligned Fang and Snake Tribes. This was before the time of Børæn marrying his queen.

Was this the first step to his march to his destiny?

That would be telling.

See now as Børæn speaks. Hear his words roll across the land as thunder. See the villagers look at the warrior with fear, bewilderment and curiosity. Hear Børæn’s words.

“I did not know him, nor do I know you. All I know, is that his death is a sad one, and it is a death that has hurt you. Though it was a death it was a good death; a death worthy of a hero. It was a death, that made possible my arrival in his friends’ time of need.”

See now, as Børæn pauses. See now, how the crowd gathers looking and listening with growing interest.

“I am a simple man, but I am touched from what I have learned. This man died a hero, and I honor his passing. I take upon my shoulders his work, and I wish to honor his life, by aiding you."

See now as Børæn draws his sword, unsling one of his twin axes,. See how he rises both in out stretched arms. He points to the sky. He looks to the sky.

“I am Børæn of the Wolf Tribe. I am Børæn of the Axe. I am Børæn of the Sword. By my sword and my axe, I pledge to Tapio the god of my people. I will carry on the work of Ja’Kar of the Iron Staff, warrior to Me’Sha. I pledge this to honor the passing of this brave man. Know this, and know this well. I pledge my sword. I pledge my axe. I pledge myself to stand with you, and until my life is snuffed out.”

See now as Børæn drop his weapons.

See now how he draws Lohikäärme Hammas (dragon tooth) from its’ sheath.

This is the dagger of Aapo.

The dagger of Elias.

The dagger of Aku.

The dagger of Jere.

The dagger of Sakarias

The dagger of Valthjof.

This is the dagger that has been passed down from one chieftain’s eldest to the next. This is the dagger Aapo used to unite the Wolf Tribe, and it is this dagger which sealed the bonds of leadership and family, and cemented that his line would lead the Wolf till the sun is snuffed out, and the moon is broken.

See now as Børæn draws Lohikäärme Hammas across his left palm. See now the blood swell, and see now the bloody hand placed on Børæn’s face.

“I pledge this in my blood, and my blood is my bond to you.”

See now as Børæn removes his hand and place it on the death shroud of Ja’Kar.

“I pledge to you, who I did not know in life, that in your death, I honor you. In death, we will meet, and in Tapio’s lodge, we will drink as friends, comrades and brothers.”

Looking at the crowd, you see Børæn smile. It is something Børæn is not use too. It is obvious to all who see him, that this is something Børæn is uncomfortable doing. I should add this is something he still does not do.

Laughter fills the lodge, but a deep cough, and a low wolf growl, stops it.

The old man chuckles to himself.

Hear now as once again Børæn speaks: “Now, let us bury the dead. Let us honor his memory. Let me hear about you, and let us kindle the embers of what I hope will be a long friendship."

For days Børæn and the village talk, boast, and it is here that the path of Børæn changes. Where does this path take him? What lead him back to us, many years later to bring the Tribe of the Wolf to greatness? That is another tale.

The old man, turns, and bows his head deeply to the shadows, where a large man sits, with sword and axe resting against his chair. Next to him is a woman, whose hair is gold. At the feet of the man and woman, is a large black wolf, who eyes the the old man with weary respect.

The old man nods, and the large man smiles and returns the nod.

With that the old man turns, and begins his walk.

Tap.

All heads follow him, as he walks to the door.

Tap.

All bow their heads, and whisper oaths of respect.

Tap.

In the man’s wake conversation slowly begins.

Tap.

As the old man gets nearer to the door the voices grow louder.

Tap.

The old man leaves the lodge, and walks into the night.

So ends the tale.

Tap.

So the group headed back to the Monastery, this time Mazlor took us to a different place, not the crevice.However, the room we needed to be in was occupied, a headless creature was wandering around. Fortunately the power of the Light held it and we had not trouble, Mazlor opens a door at the far end of the room, this involved inserting what looked like a desiccated finger and some words. I should have known this was not a good sign, beyond the door was this wall of dark water, without a word Ja’Kar walks through, of course we follow. The good news is we don’t die but do face a strange twisting set of stairs surrounded by oblivion, apparently this is the way to go. If this bizarre staircase was not enough a group of Sturge attacked us, one even got hold of me, these bloodsucking beast truly annoy me. Managing to remove it and we killed them all without serious injury. Reaching the end of the stairway we came across another wall of water and a door, no finger needed this time.

We entered a room with columns with grotesque carving, I had no wish to look closely. As we left the room we heard screams, and a strange sound. Balto and Belador went to investigate, they soon came running back followed by weird floating objects, that did not look friendly. Fortunately we did manage to defeat them. They were a hybrid of organic and metallic, with a long probe. Jorann decided to pour Holy Water on them, this dissolved the organic part leaving the metal!

Heading to the room Balto and Balador had reached we find three humans and three goblyns tied to racks with glowing bonds. The bodies keep changing, going from a recognizable form to something more globulous. Ja’Kar kills the goblyns before we can react, Jorann intercedes before he kills the humans. Thinking he can ‘cure’ him Jorann forces Holy Water down the throat of one of the humans, it burns from within, Ja’Kar kills the other two.

Returning to the column room we took the door to the East, beyond is a long room with 12 statues, two each, Human, Elf, Dwarf,Goblyn, Littleling and Orc. As we were examining them, Balto yelled out, a creature had come through a door to the South. Fortunately our group of Priests dispatched it as only magical weapons seem to do any physical damage. Continuing through the room we head out of the East door into an area with high bramble hedges and strange trees with pods on them. Mazlor and Jorann seemed concerned, apparently the last time they were here the tree were not. A red goblyn suddenly appeared above us on the hedge, Balto kills it and we notice it has bird like legs, this place gets stranger by the moment. We see the brambles from a tunnel up ahead and head into it, we can hear more goblyns above us. Ja’Kar decides that he will run out ahead to draw out for the rest of us to shoot at. Speed and the ability to dodge seem to be his thing. Off he goes, two creatures follow him giving Balto and Balador shots at them. A short while later the two creatures are dead and there are no more sounds, guess that was all there was.

Regrouping we follow the path and come to a building with a door. Mazlor and Jorann mention there should be a strange fountain up ahead. We continue and come to clearing and there is fountain of black sludge, the roots of the pod trees around it are trailed into the sludge at the bottom. Determining that this sludge is a sources of the evil Jorann, Mazlor and Sal try to remove it. Jorann initially pours some Holy Water into the pool, there is much bubbling and frothing. The roots from tries start to pull themselves out of the pool and the trees begin to shake. There is a visible drop in the level of the pool, but clearly this would take a lot of Holy Water. Mazlor casts Bless on the fountain, roots and vines withdraw but still the fountain stands. The three of them try to purify it. This has a large impact but not enough to clear it. Now we have gained an idea as to how to clear the fountain, but not having the means to hand, we head back to the door, Mazlor and Jorann know where this leads to. They want to confirm all is as they remember. We go through and head down some long winding stairs. Following the corridor we come to a room, upon opening the door we see it is full of oozing goo with strange limbs reaching out. We close the door and leave. Heading North we come across two of the floating creatures, now we know how to deal with them they are quickly destroyed, more metal to use! Mazlor and Jorann lead us to a room that is full is clearly belongs to a Magic User, I am assume Ro, there are scrolls, books along with other items.

Mazlor and Jorann explain that given what we have to do and our current state of spells it would be better to go back and then return another time. They feel that one more visit and we will be able to close the portal. We head back without incident, the headless corpse once again being held by the Light.