The red-robed mage peered over her tented fingers. Her place at the center of the imposing, mahogany table marked her for the President of this inquiry.
"Initiate, our purpose today is simple. We are here only to determine whether your actions in defense of Kalaman were appropriate to the exigencies? The days here are dire. The people starve. The dragon army has cut off all approaches to the city. I understand the Lord Mayor tasked you and your companions with remedying that situation. You are returned, apparently in good health, and yet still no food reaches the city. What account can you give of your efforts?"
Al glanced at the silver ewer covered in cool water droplets sitting on his own, lower table. His parched throat screamed for the chilled wine, but he dared not employ his quivering hands to pour a cup.
He croaked something unintelligible, then cleared his throat noisily and began again.
"You see it was like this. We set out in search of the enemy blockades, riding as swift as our mounts would tolerate to the west...or maybe the east. I'm never quite sure of these things unless I am watching the sun rise over a steaming cup of rich, black..."
The white-robed mage, a wizened, hawk-beaked man, whose closed eyes Al had mistakenly believed meant he was dozing, suddenly lifted a thin-boned hand.
Al sputtered to a halt.
"The Initiate will please confine himself only to the relevant facts. Dark clouds loom and we haven't the luxury of time to complete this inquiry. You may continue."
"Um, yes, well. So, we found a blockade and attacked the nearby enemy camp slaughtering all foes."
A fat, mustachioed man at the opposite end of the high table guffawed, his black robes shaking with motion of the expansive belly encased within.
"Ha, well one for our side then. And how many more enemy camps were you able dispatch?"
"H-h-how many? Right, how many, because obviously there should be more. Um, but then there was a complication. In clearing the enemy camp, we discovered a captive, one Cudgel, who had suffered..."
"Excuse me," the red-robed mage interjected, "you say you found a club?"
"Uh, no, a cousin I believe. I mean, not mine, she was kin of the dwarf I think. Ahh, I see the problem. Her name was Cudgel and she was missing an arm."
"Uh huh, so how does this one-armed cousin present a complication?"
Al blinked a couple of times in confusion. "She only had one arm." He shrugged as if that said it all. "The enemy ripped it off. She was in dire physical shape. Could have died at any moment. So, you see, it would have been imprudent for us to have sought out more enemy blockades without first getting her the medical attention she needed."
The black-robed mage rested his arms on the ledge of his stomach. "So, your score is still holding at one?"
"Yes and no, more no actually, but sort of yes, at-at the same time."
"PROCEED!" The white mage commanded, wagging a bony finger in the air.
"That's why we went to the tree."
"What?" the red-robed mage sighed. "You abandoned your mission to take this half-dead cousin to some tree? Why did you not bring her back to the city? We have more physicians here than in the woods, I wager."
"W-we were two days ride from Kalaman and only a day from the tree..."
"It was a TREE!"
"But not just any tree. Silverload swore it was a magic tree that could mend Cudgel's broken body...probably."
"Silverload? The dwarf, the self-proclaimed 'druid'?" the white-robed mage asked. "Have we time for druidic drivel?"
"He was right, mostly, after a fashion. The tree was certainly magic, at least ensorcelled in some way, if not actually the home of Woodsy or Smokey or whatever Silverload said his God's name was.
"When we found it, the tree was virtually indistinguishable from any other in the forest. But the slightest touch revealed an illusory camouflage. The tree's actual aspect was that of an enormous, centuries-dead oak...or walnut.
"At any rate, the sticky-fingered Kender and the archer began scooping up small woodland animals and stuffing them into the tree. And, lo and behold a door opened. So, Woodsy? Who can say."
The white-robe opened his eyes, piercing and ice blue. "Are we done here?"
"Give the lad a chance," responded the mustache from the other end of the table. "His tale is just getting interesting."
"Following Silverload's lead, we went into the tree. We encountered a troop of addled and corrupted elves who professed to be in the service of some evil, reptilian God, a cult, if you will.
"They were actively involved in some circular chanting, the purpose of which was to invite some vile, black creature through a portal into this plane. No-no offense intended," Al sputtered, looking plaintively at the black-robed mage.
"I've heard far worse, Initiate."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. So, to continue, we determined to thwart the cult's ritual thereby preventing the emergence of the monster, renewing the tree, and curing Cudgel." Al smiled as if that all made perfect sense and perhaps he should stop speaking.
"And?" asked the red-robe.
"And what? That was it, the whole ball game, as they say."
"And, how-did-that-go?" intoned the red mage slowly, as if even her infinite patience might be nearing an end.
"Oh. Yes. Of course. Well, I would say, it went well. We found a talking skull that clued us in to an artifact, a crown of twigs really, that would help us accomplish our goals if we could locate it.
"Then we found a chamber with two pools, one polluted and muddy and the other crystal clear. In between sat a barren twig of a forlorn bush, naked of any leaves and bereft of all signs of life. It was immediately apparent to me that this some sort of illusion hiding the key to the entire puzzle.
"My companions and I took a moment to bathe in the clear pool and work out the solution. The druid, the bowman and the large-size foster gnome, clumsily dropped the dead bush in the clear pool, and voila! The bush instantly dissolved, leaving in its place a wooden key, just as I had predicted.
"But what to do with this odd key. Clearly the answer lay at the bottom of the muddy pool. I told my companions as much, but not being a strong swimmer, the actual execution of the plan would be up to them.
"The dwarf stripped off his clothes, and that is one hirsute gentleman, positively animalistic. Anyway, he dove into the pool and disappeared beneath the polluted surface. Moments later, the contents of the pool were draining through an unplugged hole in the bottom.
"There it was. A wooden lock that would clearly accommodate our wooden key. My companions impetuously jumped into the empty pool and inserted the key into the lock. I begged them to be careful, and at the last possible moment Kat tossed me the end of a securing line and Oskar muttered an incantation of Feather Fall. Suddenly the bottom of the pool dropped away and my companions descended down a 40 foot vertical shift. Had it not been for my caution they would have been trapped, injured or dead, at the bottom of that shaft.
"Thankfully, they heeded my warning and were able to recover the crown from the bottom of the shaft and extricate themselves on the safety rope." Al paused, studying the panel. "It looks like you have questions."
"No. No." insisted the red-robed president of the inquiry. "Please, no questions. Just finish up, if you will."
"All right, but thus is the really exciting bit. We could hear the cultists insistent chanting and suspected.that the ritual could.conclude at any moment. Time was of the essence, but the best efforts of the rogue and the ranger could find no way to get to the cultists. Fortunately, I was able to rescue the mission with a timely Knock spell which opened a magically barred door.
"Behind the door lay a set of stairs leading up, no down...honestly, that part is a little fuzzy."
"Up, down, east, west, what difference does any of it make at this point. Please, please, please just get to the end of it."
"At any event, the stairs led to the chanting. In the center of the circle of cultists, a mystic maw yawned. Through it I could clearly see the monstrosity, all black talons and teeth and shadowy wings. Kalamans doom without a doubt.
"Now, I shouted, shoving the twig crown down on Silverload's scalp and flinging him toward the ritualists. As I had instructed him, he joined the chants but altered a key phrase to seal the portal and renew the tree. The corrupted elves fell into the modified chant with him, and Bing, bang, boom, the day was saved." Al rocked back into his seat and calmly reached for the pitcher of wine.
"Is that it? No, let me rephrase, that is it, thank the gods."