The Black Fountain

Goater slicked through the shadows readying an attack on Xavon. Xavon hurriedly tried to restart the fire. He was so nervous that he dropped the wood all into a pile and fell over. Goater noticed this and bound off to him. Xavon was almost up before Goater knocked him back. The flint in Xavon’s pocket caught the stone he dropped and the fire roared up upon both off them. Goater jumped back and shielded his eyes. Xavon rolled out and started beating the fire off of him. Xavon picked up his sword and held it high. Goater didn’t move. Xavon walked over and looked into his eyes. They were normal again. Xavon sighed and began to lay to rest. As he looked up on the stars he pondered why Goater had these sudden changes from the evil, put upon him from the fountain, to his normal state. Slowly he drifted to sleep. In his dreams he found himself not in a hallway, but in a fierce blizzard. He woke with a start and thought it was still night. Until he ripped off the blanket that covered his head. He looked up only to squint his eyes at the large sun ahead. He smelt a lovely scent that seemed of egg and pork. He thought he must still be dreaming as the only provisions he had were some old grains of wheat, and a bowl of rice, which he kept tightly secured to his belt. He felt his belt and reached into his pockets. Nothing. In fact, everything on him was gone save his clothes. He stood up and looked around for Goater. But he was no longer in the fields, yet he was lodging in a wooden cabin.

The group of men finally had a chance to laugh and sing again. When they approached Cove Friculon mentioned of a town fair that Cove does every year before winter sets in. Tanzarian decided it best to rest a while in Cove. It would only be for a few days anyway. The was one more thing that made them jump in there shoes. As they entered the city gates a small soldier from Gonz’s army approached. They seized him and brought him in for questioning. They needed not to use any form of torture as he willingly handed himself over. "Well," he said. "Verd, well, he is dead!" All of the men present gasped at these words. "Are you sure?!" asked Tanzarian. "Yes I am. I was there. I managed to sneak off behind you and I followed." They decided the man was definitely friendly to the Militan and allowed him to stay with them. He greatly thanked them as the carnival rolled around. They arrived on solemn, slightly cold, Friday’s morning. The fair would begin that night and continue throughout Saturday and Sunday. Tanzarian and company picked a fairly expensive inn, only to realize not having enough money to stay. The innkeeper, recognizing Friculon, asked who his friends were. He replied with the story of how they had saved him and everything else. The innkeeper allowed a slight exception to his plans. Although he didn’t know how he would bring up enough room to house al of the soldiers, including guests already staying. He offered them 3 rooms and the rest would sleep in the lobby, kitchen and even his own bedroom, (Which was much more spacious than the inn’s rooms). He wrote down all of this and sighed as Tanzarian left the inn. It would be a rough three days.