July 2004

From Elayne:The tall blonde woman sat in a quiet room in a medium sized manour near the southern tip of Moonglow.

The chamber walls were shining white marble that showed no sign of having been worked by tools. The room itself was markedly stark, with little more than a desk, a book case and a few chests.

The woman sighed loudly, scratching her nose idly, not paying attention to a streak of blue ink her stained fingers left behind. Hunching forward, she dipped her quill into the ink pot and quickly sketched a few more runes on the half full parchment before her.

As she wrote, the runes on the parchment began to glow softly, a small crackle of energy radiating from the tip of the quill pen. The surge of energy was so small as to be unnoticed, an action repeated so many thousands of times that it had lost it's magic, becoming an everyday chore rather than an impressive feat.

The scribe rolled the finished scroll up and dropped it in a heap of similar scrolls gathered around the legs of her chair. She then pulled over another blank scroll, flexing her weary fingers before dipping the quill once more.

She was interrupted by the sound of heavy feet coming up the stairs. Setting the quill down idly, she spoke without looking up from her scrolls.

"Bonjour, Trigger."

The man, a large and powerfully built warrior wearing scuffed leathers and a sash of bright blue nodded in reply. "M'lady Elayne."

Elayne rose wearily, taking her pointed bright blue wizard's cap off the desk and settling it on her head. Once, long ago, some had called her pretty. Though her powerful magic had prevented the ravages of age from lining her face, years of war and conflict had left it's mark on the Archmage of Moonglow. Her eyes were full of cold challenge, her expression fierce, like a predatory bird waiting to swoop on an unsuspecting rodent. "You have news from Skara Brae?" she said crisply, wasting little time with pleasantries.

Trigger Happy shrugged, the haft of his massive axe bobbing from where it hung slung across his back. "Aye, Elayne. You wanted me to keep track of the movements of those you suspect of being involved in the Chaos Movement..."

Elayne nodded briskly, motioning for the powerful paladin to continue.

"The Temple of Mondain seems to be moving. Rumour has it that they have seized a chunk of Yew..."

"Which chunk of Yew?" Elayne cut in abruptly, eyes narrowing.

Trigger paused a moment, non plussed. "Word is sketchy... by my friends in the Militia say they seized Empath Abbey."

Elayne nodded, lips twisting in a grimace of distaste. She reached down to her belt and pulled out a pair of heavy leather gauntlets that hung there, sliding them on with sharp motions.

Trigger watched a moment, then ventured, "Your thoughts, Elayne?"

The lady paused a moment, reluctant to share her thoughts even with her closest friend and ally. Shrugging cooly, she murmured, "I like it not. I know this new voice of the Temple but little."

Trigger did not bother to ask how Elayne new Poet at all. He simply waited for the Archmage to elaborate.

Elayne paused a moment, considering how much she wished to say. Finally, slowly, she continued. "Mordain was... a known quality. His political .. ambitions .. made him easy to predict. This Poet.. I do not know his skills or ambitions. That makes him unpredictable."

Trigger nodded in agreement. Both of them knew that unpredictable, unknown quantities were dangerous threats in the middle of Moonglow's invasion.

"There is more, Elayne." Trigger said.

Elayne looked up with interest.

"Archmage Burne has.. cornered... a priest of Mondain, not far from here. We are certain that he is a spy."

Elayne walked over to the book case and coolly reached up to the top of the case. She carefully pulled down a large metal kite shield, checking the straps and then sliding her arm through it.

Turning to Trigger Happy, she smiled savagely.

"Take me to this spy."

The two dark robed men stood silently before a broad oak table in a small, torchlit cell in the heart of an ancient keep in Felucca.

Though the keep was located in the middle of a desert, the night had robbed the sands of their warmth. The heat had drained away like blood from a wound, living a cold touch in the night air, a chill tang that would have made most men shiver.

The two men hunched over the table did not shiver. They stared downwards with such a burning intensity that the air around them seemed almost to crackle. The table was adorned with maps, some large felt maps scribed with the breadth of the entire world, some depicting the valleys and mountains of Malas, others showing dire places that none outside this keep had ever visited. The central map however, showed a pleasant city on a temperate but small island in the ocean south of Vesper in Trammel.

That map was covered with tiny steel figures, like toy soldiers and mages, that covered the face of the city, massing near the docks at the north end and sweeping down south throughout the island. It might have seemed a diversion for a child, yet the game those figures represented was deadly serious.

"Your thoughts?" the blue robed man in front of the table murmured to his companion.

"The hiring of the bandit Executioners has proven to be fortuitous, Lord Poet," the other replied, gesturing to the soldiers on the map. "Their steel combines well with Yusuf's minions magecraft. They are pressing the defenders of Moonglow heavily."

"Yet the defenders endure," commented Poet, still staring at the steel figures, as if willing them to advance.

"Moonglow has always been the home of a number of powerful citizens," the other man ventured. "Mages and druids with powerful beasts to help the defense."

"Perhaps, Durnik." Poet continue to stare at the map with it's steel ornaments, but one long fingered hand drifted across to a map of another city, this one over run by steel figures. "Yet Magincia fell easily to the onslaught. What gives Moonglow a greater will to resist the Chaos?"

Durnik hesitated a moment, considering carefully what justification to offer. "It may be, Lord Poet, that the newly reformed Council of Moonglow is putting more of a backbone into their citizens.. Inspiring them to fight harder."

Poet raised an eyebrow quizzically, bidding Durnik to continue.

"Lady Elayne, who apparently was briefly aiding the Highland Guards, has recently returned to Moonglow," Durnik said, his voice gaining intensity as he mentioned the hated Highlanders. "And she has brought withher some of the old Highlanders, as well as mustering some of her old allies and making inroads with a few other residents of Moonglow."

Poet tapped his fingers on the table, considering this. "Yet, even Archmages must sleep, Durnik. When the next step of the Movement's plan is revealed, Moonglow must surely fall, despite anything this Council does."

Durnik nodded in agreement, but any further comment he might have made was interrupted as the door opened, and another dark robe man entered.

"Come, Uetri." Poet spoke, motioning the new man forward. "Tell me of our efforts."

"My Lord," Uetri replied. "We have already gathered all the gold you required.."

Uetri hesitated, not wishing to give his lord bad news.

Poet frowned however, motioning Uetri forward insistently.

"We have gathered the gold.. and our scribes are working as quickly as possible... But..."

"But we continue to fail to produce scrolls quickly enough." Poet finished coldy.

Uetri nodded, "Aye, and our spies report that the stockpile of the scrolls in the Usurper British's castle is growing very rapidly."

"Curse the fool who revealed to them that they would need dispel scrolls!" burst out Durnik, pounding a fist on the table.

Poet merely nodded, brow furrowing as he thought.

"What is your will, Lord Poet?" Uetri ventured.

"It is clear to me.." Poet began slowly, as he decided the Temple of Mondain's course of action. "It is clear to me that we must have more scribes. And that the Usurper must have less."

Durnik nodded. "But how will we accomplish this, my lord?"

Poet looked back down at the map of Moonglow, running his finger tips along the north end of the island.

Slowly looking up at the other two Mondainites, Poet smiled coldly.

"I have a plan."