With a freshly looted wand of awesomeness The adventurers proceed to a well deserved rest at the volcanic springs of Winterhaven.
Less restful so much as terrible, what with the ambushes and the orcs, and in the fight to defend the mysterious heirloom guarded by Sora, brave, unconscious Thorn valiantly leapt into the path of Idria’s burning hands, drawing the orcs behind her, sacrificing herself so that the party may persevere. Thorn’s sacrifice seemed in vain, as a single orc survived to flee with the enigmatic disc, yet it is the thought that counts.
Who else to blame for this calamity but Sora? The mischevious Draconian wyrm, masquerading in the noble guise of a paladin, while his secrets and vendettas of personal ambition lead the poor, innocent, spellcasters to a doom of ineveitable misery and misfortune. A moment of remembrance for those spellcasters, and the burden that weighs upon the heroic, though clumsy, Idria, as she must come to terms with the terrible events of the day. Oh, and Thorn too.
Perhaps, in the shadows, Kaltharin now schemes, laughing maniacally in his misdirection and subterfuge, for behind all puppets lies a puppeteer – and Sora doesn’t have the brain-meat to pull this off on his own. No, none can know for sure, but would they know if he isn’t scheming? That is the true question that should be asked this day.
Ellariel tries her hardest to sustain these fools and villains, her heart torn asunder with the weight of her compassion, her blood and tears poured forth in selfless love and charity, but even her monumentous effort may not be enough to save them from themselves.
(Ellariel battles the orcs. Also some other things happened)