In the middle of the night, an earthquake interrupted my reading. I hurried out of the building, concerned that it might collapse on me, and found that the others, in addition to most of the townsfolk, had done the same. Since everyone was confused, and this was not a region prone to such events, we suspected it had had something to do with the chasm. After spending so many hours absorbed in my book of dragons, I feared (and hoped) that this had been caused by the Enemy, but the others found my idea unlikely, and the Empty Hand, who seems to have a sense for these things, said he did not feel a presence. After some argument, we decided to ride to the chasm to see what had happened.
The entire region was desolate. The forest was silent, as all animal life had either fled or been killed. The closer we came to the chasm, the worse the destruction became. First the trees were cracked or blown over, then they were burnt, and finally they were petrified, turned as hard as rock by the intense heat that had washed over the entire area. We spent until late in the day exploring, and found only destruction. The chasm itself had been filled, and its floor fused into glassy rock. There was no way through.
We slept near the chasm, and spent the next day searching. By chance, I discovered an entrance, though my discovery could have killed me. Fortunately, I was able to scramble out of the pit while the earth around me collapsed in a perfect three-foot circle. Over the next several hours, we lowered the Infiltrator and the halfling into the hole on successively longer lengths of rope, even going so far as to untie the Infiltrator's knotted rope to make it longer. Still, the hole went farther down than we could reach. It was perfectly straight, and its rounded sides were smooth, like the bottom of the chasm. Eventually, it opened into the large chamber where we had fought the drow. The chamber was in ruins, and directly beneath the hole, what remained of the evil tree had been split in half. We suspect it exploded with such force that it was felt all the way to the town, and it shot something upward fast enough to burrow straight through hundreds of feet of earth.
We returned to town and reported the news to the priest and the mayor. The priest took the priest and myself – that sounds odd. There are too many people in this world of man to call each person by a simple title. Some of the others have called the priest something, but I can't remember what it was. In any case –
The priest took the two of us to a back room to browse through his personal library, which I found to be quite impressive. He said that many of the books originated in the city a week's journey away. I asked him if he owned any books written in draconic, hoping for anything I could learn about the Enemy, but he had nothing. Perhaps in the city…
We found what the priest wanted – a history of the vampire that had been buried under that tree. Three hundred years ago, he had been the courtier to a terrible dragon warlord, and had ruled a large region from a castle a few hundred miles to the north. After the warlord was defeated, he fled, but a group of adventurers caught up to him and killed him. The town's priest believes that the vampire has once again become active, and has returned home.
While we were researching the history of the vampire, the others looked into the issue of the drow. I find it difficult to understand why we pursue these quests the mayor sets us on. With three seasoned adventurers and a town guard, they should be able to handle their own problems better than we six can, and we are already on a quest far more important than tracking a handful of drow. I voiced my thoughts to the others, and was shot down. The Infiltrator, in particular, believes that we must stop every evil in the world. He may be a better man than I, though I hope that, when the time comes, he stops chasing after dreams and does what we came here to do.
The others discovered that the group of orcs we'd seen several days ago came from the barbarian camp and headed north. We went south to see what could be learned from the barbarians. After the halfling opened a locked chest for them (again springing a trap), they pointed us to the member of their tribe who had been visited by the orcs. When he saw us through a crack in his door, he fled out of the back window. We followed and quickly caught him.
He had sold the orcs a special wagon with a false bottom capable of holding several people lying down. They were heading north, and were going to stop at the town to meet someone.
We woke in the barbarian camp and returned to the town. The town guard rushed us to the mayor, who was worried over a late caravan. He owns a mithril mine nearby, and the precious metal is the town's primary export. The caravan was six hours late returning from a shipment to the city a week's journey away. Predictably enough, we agreed to investigate.
Early in the morning, we headed north for the mines. When we reached the edge of the forest, the Tracker told us that a party had passed by here recently, but as to their identity, he could only tell us they wore boots. We followed the tracks, which led us to a point so clearly arranged for ambush that it is a mystery why the road passed through it. The main road followed a narrow valley, and two rocky hills sloped steeply up on either side. Boulders were arranged conveniently about so as to provide enough hiding places to conceal dozens.
Indeed there was an ambush. Footprints led up both hills, so the Tracker and the halfling went up on the right, while the Infiltrator and the Empty Hand climbed the left slope. The priest stayed on the road, and I held back, ready to attack anyone who went through with the ambush. All of the others, from their various positions, were spotted or rushed out at about the same time. Meanwhile, the priest fell into a pit. Our battle was against three or four orcs, and it was going well until their leader, one trained almost as well in the ways of the tracker as our own Tracker, blew a small horn. Out of a cave by the road, two monstrous, many-tentacled creatures emerged, and it took most of our strength to subdue them. Once I made sure the priest was in good health, I aided in the battle with a few spells. The creatures' tentacles emitted a paralyzing poison which they successfully used on the halfling before the fight was over.
We stripped the orc-tracker down and took him hostage, though he was of little help. He had no fear of death, and gave us only information we already had – that the orcs were in the north. He offered to lead us there, assuming we were no match for them, but I decided, and I believe the others thought similarly, that we would trust to the Tracker's direction and not to that of this orc.
While the priest healed the one human from the wagon who was still alive, the rest of us took a quick look in the cave, but saw nothing near the entrance. Once awake, the man confirmed that his wagon was the one that carried the gold back from the city, and told us his brother was missing (the orc added that he had been kept as a hostage).
The Tracker has just called out that the orcs' tracks, as well as some larger footprints, lead off the road and up one of the hills. We can not take the horses with us, so the caravan driver will bring them to town for safe keeping. The orc had a magical bandolier that could produce useful items from nothing, and the priest used it to create a mule. That animal can rough the terrain.