OOC: This was posted a long time ago on the KHS board, I've taken the liberty to post the relpies too since they are all so damn good. Thanks to Laocoon, Ealan and Morz.


The wind blew across the flat Karana Plains, carrying the cries of a squealing halfling. The shrill screech of the terrified druid scared off all wildlife in the vicinity. Two dark figures stood over the battered body, taunting and shouting curses.
“Ah, a fresh soul for the Dark Father. Innoruuk will be most pleased,” Drazhkahn said.
“Wud we du wid diz un, Draz?” Krual asked while picking the remaining part of a gnome leg out of his teeth.
“You large fool! We can not do anything if you insist on eating them,” Drazhkahn angrily replied.
Krual fidgeted. He hated when Draz scolded him, and that happened a lot.
“Krual juz wan tu see iv nafud tazte gud. He nadid.”
“Matter it does not. Soon all lightdwellers will be consumed by the fires of Hate,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Even now this “thing” hates us for its pain.”
To prove his point Drazhkahn smashed the flat of his hand across the bridge of the halfling’s nose, spraying blood and cartilage on the ground.
“See, it hates,” Drazhkahn said, pleased with himself.
Krual chuckled, delighted with the brutality he was witnessing. He enjoyed travelling with Draz, such evilness was unrivaled in the most sinister of individuals.
“Innoruuk bless The Cimmerii,” Krual thought. “Such infernal beings spreading Your Will, we could not fail You.”
“Oaf, stop dreaming!” Drazhkahn yelled as he slapped the side of Krual’s helmet. “Go we must.”
“War tuu?” Krual asked.
“A Meeting. A Dark Meeting,” Drazhkahn said. He kicked the druid once for good measure and started up the path to Highpass.
Krual looked down at the little halfling who was praying to Karana for peace. Krual pitied him. Such weakness. Such sad weakness. A devilish smile appeared on Krual’s scarred face. Taking Dr’axx in hand the troll brought down the halberd across the halfling’s left foot, severing part from the rest of his body. He then took out Buneespayur, his favorite dagger, and cut the whimpering druid’s tongue out.
“Lez see yu prae n run lik dat,” Krual spat, then he turned and hastily tried to catch up with Drazhkahn.

The energies which crackled around the giants massive form were so cold they burned. He screamed his agony to the heavens and the earth around him rumbled. In a fit of blind fury, he thrashed his arms attempting to break free, but found that he could not. Even as his anger seethed, he stood fast, unable to move his feet. Glaring at the tiny figure which stood nearly one hundred paces from him, he struggled to comprehend what was happening as it raised its arms for a third time. Two times, the creature had done something which had caused his skin to freeze over. Two times the impudent little creature had hurt him. He would make this creature pay, he would grind its bones into the ground and devour what was left. He would... In a blinding flash of pain all thought left him as jagged bands of red light tore the flesh from his bones. With a final groan, he collapsed to the ground in a thundering heap, his life expired.
Ealan lowered his arms and breathed a sigh of relief as the hill giant fell. Even for one of his power, these beasts could be formidable foes. Their madness and hatred for all other life made them fearless and the physical power they possessed could be overwhelming. Running over to the small band of travelers who had been the object of the giants hunger just moments earlier, Ealan noted that no one had been badly injured. Two half-elven rangers and a gnomish cleric had been making haste to Highpass Hold when the giant had spied them. The plains of the Karanas were still largely wild and untamed and even the roads held terrible dangers.
"Are you okay my friends?", Ealan asked as he surveyed the group. The gnome spoke first, "Yes, milord. Thanks be to Brell that you came along when you did sir. I fear that monster would have had us for sure!" Ealan nodded gravely, "Aye, they are near certain death. All is well now, though. Are you fit for your journey?" Already arranging their gear, the three all nodded robustly; each more eager than ever to reach Highpass and face challenges they were more equipped to handle. Waving to the little band of fortune seekers and wishing them well, Ealan turned and began to make his way back along the path to North Karana.
His journey passed largely without incident as his magically enhanced boots carried him swiftly along. These plains could be so peacful at times, he thought to himself. It was a tragedy that the beauty of Norrath was often offset by horrors like the giant he had faced earlier. His mind wandering, Ealan nearly tripped over the small bundle which appeared suddenly in the road before him. Bending down to inspect it, he realized, with a start, that it was a halfling! Battered and bloodied, the little druid had pulled himself to the path in hopes that someone would find him. Turning him over, Ealan saw, with revulsion, that his tongue had been cut out and part of his left foot had been severed. He attempted to bandage the wounds, but he knew that they were too severe. His heart breaking, he cradled the halflings tiny head, comforting him as best he could in his last moments. "Who did this to you little one? Why?". The druid was only partially lucid, fading in and out of conciousness as his breathing grew more ragged. Through blood soaked lips he managed to gasp out only a few words before crossing to the next life, "Teir`Dal...... Highpass...... the darkness! the darkness....."
Ealan clenched his fists in anger. Even here, so far from the Nektulos, the wretched cousins of his people flaunted their evil and their hatred. Perhaps the death of the poor halfling would not be in vain though, for he had given him one clue; Highpass. It appeared that fate had altered his course once again. Asking for the blessing of Karana, he dragged the body of the halfling off of the path and into the tall grass for the earth to reclaim it; such was the druidic way. With grim determination and a glimmer of hope that his path should cross with those of the murderers, Ealan focussed his will on Highpass. Muttering words of magic, a blue light coalesced around him and carried him away on the winds...

As I crossed the bridge from Northern Karana's invisible...I noted Ealan. A powerful one, radiating cool confidence. For kicks I chose to follow. To my pleasing eyes not far had we ran swiftly across the Karana's green grasses had Ealan stopped on the side of the path. I almost screamed in ecstasy at the blood work that had been done. Alas more now see the powers of simple pain and suffering. As Ealan did his "goodly deeds" I hurriedly scrolled a quick note and while he was busy at task placed it within his pack. I was a bit sloppy, but with his concentration solely upon the carnage he must have nay noticed my movement. Aye events go as I would like ....

"ahh bloodshed, massacre. I nay know who did this beautiful deed...but ye can see more often within the Commonlands......"

Giahn sat patiently soaking in the late afternoon sun. He really didn’t have a problem with the outdoors, but, by Brell, he missed the solidity of Kaladim, so secure in the confines of its mountain. Nevertheless, he swore to his two friends, Taen and Terras, that he would meet them at the top of Highpass, and he would never break that promise. However, his patience was with them was growing thin. “By the gems of Brell!” Giahn swore as he hopped off his rock. “Looks like they stood me up,” he thought, “just like that time in Freeport!”
No sooner did he think that when he spotted two figures coming up the pass. No, they were to big to be his friends, unless Terras grew six feet and gained 400 pounds! “Two adventurers out for excitement,” Giahn thought, “maybe they have seen my friends in their travels.” Giahn quickly gathered his things and approached the two oncoming figures.
Giahn drew near the two figures. “One is obviously Troll, the other, I can’t quite tell with that helmet…it looks like Taen’s, but he’s definitely not that tall.” As they neared Giahn saw that the helmet wearing individual was a Tier’dal, and that was certainly Taen’s helmet!
“Hail friends,” Giahn said in Common, “might I trouble you hardy travelers with a question?”
The two looked at each other and exchanged a few words that Giahn didn’t quite understand.
“Shur Grizl,” the brutish Troll replied.
“I see you have acquired the armor of a friend of mine. Could you prehaps guide me to their location?”
The two dark figures shared a glance, one that made Giahn feel uneasy. In fact, Giahn was starting to regret his decision. “Brell protect me,” he thought.
“Help?” the Teir’dal hissed.”Why of coursse! Krual, help thiss dwarf find hiss friendss.”
Before Giahn could react, the troll lifted him off the ground by his beard and carried him over to the edge of the cliff. “BY BRELL!” Giahn shouted, “SOMEONE HELP ME!” The terror was evident in his pleas for help and this did nothing but fuel the hate-filled duo. He flailed wildly but the troll’s grip was too strong, the pain started to move from his face to the rest of his body, he felt like his beard would be ripped off.
“Brell, grant this soul peace,” Giahn prayed. The troll smacked the side of Giahn’s face with his free hand. “Shud yu mowf, Grizl. Der be na peece fo yu war yu goeeng,” the troll said as he pitched the horrified dwarf off the side of the mountain.
Thoughts ran through Giahn’s mind as he screamed down to his death, too many thoughts, too many memories, so many friendships, all to be ended by a misfortunate encounter.
The screams echoing in the gorge brought Drazhkahn much happiness, as much happiness as a Dark elf could feel. He felt so alive this day, three lightdwellers sent to the fiery Hate of Innoruuk. How he loved serving his God’s Will.
“Enough fooling around for now, Krual. Go we musst.”
“Oog,” Krual replied, “Bud Draz…whi cud Krual naeet de Grizl?”
Drazhkahn shot Krual a stern and piercing look that shut the immense troll up. “We go,” Drazhkahn ordered.
The two headed back to their destination, not bothering to admire the dwarf-stained mountainside that was their handiwork.

Three guards stood watch at the top of Highpass Hold. The crisp mountain air flowed through the passage and provided a moment of relaxation on an otherwise boring midday. In the late sun two guards were busy chatting about the increase of traffic through the valley, one had fallen asleep.
“Not much to guard with so many people running about,” one guard said, “Seems like we’re just guarding the rocks!”
“Could be worse,” said the other, “you could be stuck cleaning out the aqueducts! Besides, it’s not been a busy day.”
“Yeah, right. At least I have the sense not to bring MY children.”
A little girl not more than four years sleep soundly in the small keep, not far from the sleeping guard. The keep protected her from the slight chill in the air and provided a barrier from the guard’s excessive snoring.
“So? What could go wrong?” the guard asked.
Just as the guard said that a very large figure appeared from down the path. Startled, the guards instinctively reached for their weapons. The hairs on the back of their necks stood on end and slight chill overcame them, they knew what was coming.
“Troll,” the guard spat in disgust. “McKiln, wake up!” he snapped at the guard, who only waved him off.
The guard opened one eye and peered down the pass. “It’s only one troll,” he replied, “You don’t need my sword. Besides, I’m sleeping.”
“Very well.” The two guards quickly got into a defensive formation and stood their ground. The troll had slowed to a walk and was beginning to look uneasy about facing two well-trained soldiers. The guards became confident that this brute would see that it was clearly outmatched. The odds were in their favor. Blood would be spilled in the name of all that is Good.
“Stand fast, filth!” one guard shouted. “Or your festering entrails will be displayed all through the pass!”
The troll stopped, halberd at the ready. The two slowly advanced at the massive form, judging their opponent. As they were about to engage the fearsome troll, a blood-curdling scream ran out. The guards spun in horror.
“McKiln!” But, it was too late; a dark-elf had attacked them from the rear. Who would have thought the troll was a diversion! McKlin was quickly slaughtered, Drazhkahn, or “The Butcher” as his Dark brethren refer him as, unleashed a barrage of cuts and slashes that split more blood on the ground than humanly possible. Blood sprayed from McKiln’s wounds, he was not dead however, his pain was just beginning. He slumped to the ground, a mass of gore and bile. Drazhkahn turned from the dying human and smiled wickedly at the two guards.
Faced with two obviously vicious foes, the guards fumbled in their tactics. They charged back at the Teir’Dal. A brutal howl from the troll snapped them back into the situation.
“I will take this one, you get the troll.”
“Yeah, right. Easier said,” the guard gulped, turning to face the hulking halberd-wielding beast.
The guard and the troll clashed. The troll’s battle plan was simple: use sheer strength and power. The weaker guard’s human body could not withstand the punishment and collapsed to the ground. The last image he saw was a gaping Troll mouth as it closed itself around his head.
The second guard was not as lucky. The nimble dark-elf easily evaded the guards strong, but slow blows. Inching closer, Drazhkahn reached out and placed a hand on his foe.
“Innoruuk take this soul.” he prayed out-loud.
Drazhkahn’s hand was surrounded by dark cloud that sent the guard down clutching his chest and screaming in agony. The Tier’Dal hit the human in the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.
“Ahh, we eat good thiss night, Krual,” Drazhkahn said as he reached for his dagger.
Inside the keep came the cries of a small child. Drazhkahn, busy with skinning the unfortunate guard, sent Krual to go check it out. Lying on a cot was a small human child. Intrigued, Krual lifted the girl in his massive arms and carried her outside.
“Luuk Draz!” Krual said excitedly. “Oomie gerl!”
“Aware I am, Fool!” he angrily replied, “An example musst be made.”
Saying that Drazhkahn approached the trembling child. Placing the knife upon the young one's tender skin he cut a couple of gashes across her face.
“There. Sshe will hate who and what s she hass become.” Drazhkahn told Krual. “Leave her, Innoruuk will feed from her hate, then take her as Hiss own.”
The two left the keep, the corpses, and the bloody child, and headed on their way.
**Minutes later:
Heale and her family had just come from the Karana Plains, crops ready to be sold in the Commonlands. The trip was uneventful; in fact it was down right boring. It was until she spotted the mass of circling birds. What she saw next filled her heart with grief. The guard keep had been sacked. A beheaded guard laid in a pool of his own blood, one laid a mass of cuts, bruises and gore, the third…Merciful Tunare, the third was skinned. Worse still, he was alive, barely breathing, but alive. What broke Heale’s heart the most was the shattered child that sat next to the beheaded lump, as if waiting for him to awaken from a dream that would never end. Scooping the child in her arms, Heale ordered he brother, Jonnan, to return to the Plains and warn the guards and common folk of the vileness that has spread into their lives. She then ordered three of her hired hands to properly bury the two dead guards. The third was placed in a wagon in the hopes that his life would be saved.
“Tunare be merciful, grant us safe passage from the evil that has spread like wildfire.”
**Soon:
Word spread quickly through the pass and the countryside, those who heard vowed a code of silence for fear that the wicked cruelty of hatred bless itself onto them.
The two bringers of pain made their way to the Eastern Commonlands where it seemed Fate caught up with them.

After four hours of searching and questioning, Ealan had to finally admit the futility of his mission. He had come to Highpass determined to locate the murderer of the halfling druid he had found so horribly broken in the Karanas, but had, instead, been left with more questions. No one had seen anything; either on the road, or within the pass. Even generous offerings of platinum had done nothing to loosen the tongues of the common-folk and guards he had spoken with. Either they were telling the truth, or were so afraid to speak that it overwhelmed their basic desire for easy gains.
Feeling somewhat defeated, he stopped into the Tigers Roar; one of the numerous taverns nestled within the mountain pass on the way to the Kithicor forest. It was a comfortable enough place to rest a bit, overlooking a tranquil lake that Ealan was quite familiar with. Remembering fondly, as he ordered a glass of Elven wine from the barkeep, he thought back to the day that he had dove into these waters in search of a piece of Tarton's Wheel. Beneath the roaring falls, which fed the lake, he had found the rod Geza and thus taken another important step on the quest for the mighty staff he now carried. Settling back into one of the taverns comfortable chairs, he breathed a heavy sigh. Those were far simpler times, certainly, when every day had brought a new adventure. Reaching into his pack for a muffin, he marveled over how much things had changed. Each day now seemed to bring more and more ominous tidings. As he rumaged around for the muffin, his hand brushed something unfamiliar. "What's is this?", Ealan muttered to himself, as he drew forth a tattered note from his pack. Unfurling it, he read the hastily written words:
"ahh bloodshed, massacre. i nay know who did this beautiful deed...but ye can see more often within the Commonlands......"
Ah, how could he have been so blind! Even as he had been administering to the suffering of the dying druid, one of the villainous Teir`Dal had watched him; being so bold as to slip this note into his pack! Ealan feared that he was becoming far too complacent these days. In many ways, the path he now walked was far more dangerous than the one he had walked previously. As a fortune hunter in search of personal gain, all that had mattered was the goal; everyone fought as one to accomplish their objective. Now, however, he was being drawn into a world of holy wars and intrigue. The players in this game were motivated by principles they held higher than their very lives. He had allowed himself to underestimate his enemies and he would not make that mistake again.
Rising to leave the tavern, the muffin forgotten, Ealan waved to the barkeep and set down his empty wine glass. He knew, without a doubt, where he had to travel next. Three days prior he had resigned himself to making contact with the Teir`Dal, but had since invented a dozen reasons to delay the journey. He wasn’t completely sure that the changes in himself would be accepted by his old acquaintances, but he would find out soon enough; he could delay no longer.
Within minutes he arrived in the Commonlands, his magic carrying him miles in an instant. As he passed the circle of stones that the druids of these parts used for their rituals, he spotted the man he was supposed to meet. It had been a bit awkward, sending him the mental request for a meeting, as they had not spoken in some time; but he had complied. Sitting calmly in the grass, his elaborate robes wrapped around him, the ebon skinned Dark Elf watched the scene before him with intense interest. Ealan, following his gaze, was impressed by what he saw. A skeletal warrior, standing more than six feet tall, was slashing with blinding speed at a mighty griffin, which screeched and clawed in the air above its bony form. The battle was over in minutes. The griffin, despite being a truly terrible foe, was no match for the undead horror. It collapsed to the ground in a bloodied heap as its wings gave out. The skeleton, its deed done, returned to the side of the master and, in a haunting, raspy voice, announced its intention to guard him.
Ealan applauded the skeletons performance and bid it greeting. As always, its master was amused by this and chuckled. “Hello old friend”, the Dark Elf said, regarding him with a cool gaze, “It has been a good while… To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sitting down in the grass beside him, Ealan surveyed the gleaming desert sands that stretched to the horizon before them just beyond the edge of the grassline. After collecting his thoughts for a moment, he met his friends gaze evenly and relayed all that he had learned. When he was finished, the Teir`Dal rose to his feet, hands clasped behind his back. “You know how I feel about these matters, Ealan. I’ve never made it a secret that my loyalties extend only as far as myself.” Ealan nodded, he knew it well and he understood it. “Aye friend, but I ask you only for information. Conversations, rumors, strange happenings, that sort of thing.” The Dark Elf considered for several long moments before responding; it was not in his nature to make light commitments. Finally, he nodded “Okay, I owe you that much at least. Be careful though, cousin, for you walk on dangerous grounds and in this battle, I cannot stand beside you.” Ealan bowed to him in gratitude “Yes, I know old friend. I would never ask you to. I thank you for this and am in your debt.” With that, the two men parted, disappearing into the trees, now Ealan thought to himself, things would get interesting.

Laocoon sat at his office away from home. Far north, in the frozen city of the Barbarians, he was paying a visit to his parents. They knew the busy nature of Laocoon's duties and were always glad to see him. They had even set up a spare room to serve as a modest office where Laocoon could do some of the work that always came in a constant stream. It was in this room that Laocoon now sat, a parchment in his hands, recently delivered.
As head of the Faithbringer order, Laocoon was privvy to dozens of reports daily. Norrath was full of death and strife, and these reports detailed much of it. This one was different, however, and he read it once again, teeth grinding.
"Reports of a Troll and Tier'Dal, heading to east commons. Suspects of particularly brutal murders in Highold Pass. Carson McCabe offering 500 gp reward for information regarding the two. Details follow..."
The report continued, detailing the gruesome and soulless manner in which the victims perished.
Just then, Laocoon's mother, Leauna, entered the office with a plate of cookies and a mug of milk. "Coon, what's wrong?" She asked, noting the look of consternation on his face.
"Ah, just more news of death and destruction." he replied, attempting to change the subject. His mother need not be exposed to the wickedness that presented itself on the table before him.
"Well Mr Templar sir," she said fondly, "I've brought you something." She carefully set the plate of goodies on his tiny desk. Laocoon's eyes softened. "Thanks mom, I love your cookies. Unfortunately I will be leaving right away."
"Oh? Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Duty calls. I am off to the East Commons. Justice is needed there." Looking back to the report, two names become burned in his mind. "Krual...Drazhkahn...." he mutters, "I am coming for you."