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The Adventure of the Dreaming Gem - Part the Fifth is a book in Divine Divinity.

Location[]

On a crate in Hugh and Elli's farm in the Farmlands.

Transcript[]

*This book claims to be by the famous orc freebooter - Coram Bloodclub. Some say Coram died over ten years ago, some say he might still be alive. This book looks old enough and Bloodclub, despite his name, was renowned as an orc of education and sophistication. Perhaps this tome is indeed from Bloodclub's very own pen... I would be nice to find the other sections of the story.*

The Adventure of the Dreaming Gem.
Reminisced by Coram Bloodclub, orc adventurer and jewel thief.

Part the Fifth - Flight.

I'm a mountain-bred orc, so it didn't take over-long for me to spike-climb a wall only twenty orcs in height. The top of the wall was rounded to prevent thieves climbing up with grapnel lines, but that also meant there was little snow up there when I straddled it, which was a minor relief. Shadow, my dwarven thief companion, let herself down from my back and helped me unpack the hide-bound bundles I'd brought with me all this way.

"These bloody elven inventions better work," she whispered as we unwrapped them and started fitting the components together.

"Well if they don't you'll have only a short fall in which to curse me, so I suggest you call me some names now, just in case." Shadow complied, using some of the fruitiest language I've heard outside of a human brothel.

The packages contained woodland wings - an elf invention that allowed short flights of about forty orc-lengths or so. Made of elf silk stretched over a frame of very light, but very strong wolftree wood, the wings were triangular in shape and hooked to the shoulders. A basic lifting spell gave them a little boost on take-off.

In fact the woodland wings worked perfectly - I had feared that they might not fly well at night with no thermals to ride. The tower in the centre of the snowbound garden was a good two orcs shorter than the surrounding wall, and the wings carried us down to it swiftly but safely. As I looked down during the flight, however, I saw the demon Hastor had set to guard his garden, standing black and huge in the moonlight, staring up at us with fiery eyes.

The instant I hit the flat roof of the tower, I removed the wings and drew my sword, expecting the demon to come bounding up the wall after us, but all was quiet. I cautiously looked over the parapet, but the demon was gone: vanished, without leaving so much as a footprint in the snow. Shadow, at my side, grunted, but without surprise.

"As I'd hoped," she whispered, "the 'demon' is an illusion - a kind of scarecrow - only visible to those outside the tower. Hastor is an illusionist, not a summoner."

It was then my turn to call her some pungent names for keeping me in the dark.

To be continued...

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