One of the last jobs Gorfang and Eloy planned before leaving the city to head for Amberlan was to stop back at the Mageguild and collect something to help against Fae Mhor darkness spells. A little negotiation with Aloysius the trademage and they emerged with a Rod of Daylight, a non-rechargable spellcasting device usable by anyone, that would cast the spell Daylight when needed.
Gorfang went to say goodbye to Darnivarn. She was deep in plans to rebuild the guild in Lossal, and gladly agreed to keep an eye on the orc's estates. "If your guild raids the place, I'd have to kill you," said Gorfang, only half joking. "I'd just have to spend it all before you got back!" she riposted laughing. "Don't worry; remember you said I could use the place? I'm hardly going to burgle one of my own homes, am I? It's top of the Protected list, once we get one again. Just see you come back to use it." She hung a kiss on his scarred face and walked away.
Meeting up with Méabh again, and with Bog in tow, the pair headed out through Cheapgate north of the mageguild and headed back towards the vanished kingdom of Morglas. Where it had all begun....
It had been raining for two solid days. While not especially cold - it was June after all - everyone was pretty fed up of the constant wet, as well as the pervasive smells of wet orc and wet warg. Perhaps because of the rain, it wasn't until the signs of movement were forty or fifty yards away that they realized they were being followed.
The ground was rough and broken here, and whatever it was was flitting from boulder to boulder on either side of them. Gorfang and Eloy strung their bows and took some potshots. They were fairly sure they'd got at least one each of 
whatever it was when their stalkers came over the rocks with a chorus of bloodcurdling yells. Five on each side charged down towards them. Five more on each side stopped atop the boulders and opened up with short bows. Now they could be clearly seen for what they were - slitheren, the ratmen from the Desolation. Gorfang and Eloy had fought these before and laughed contemptuously. Meabh cast one of her newer spells and a magical layer of invisible armour settled around her shoulders as Eloy slipped off his horse - he preferred to fight on foot.
Eloy retained his bow for a last volley, confident in his ability to draw quickly before the wave of attackers arrived. He stuck a couple of arrows in one of the archer ratmen, but was a little surprised to note that it didn't go down, despite the cold damage added by his bow Varlan. Behind them, Bog cast a spell, and vanished from everyone's attention as Sanctuary tucked him out of harm's way. Gorfang kicked Shamlakh into a run and headed straight for the oncoming line of warriors, swords drawn. A volley of arrows from the archer ratmen soared over the heads of their own warriors and dealt light wounds to Méabh and Gorfang - the latter ended up with an arrow lodged in his Khabran gold crown - and then the raiders reached the party and engaged them. Shamlakh the warg attempted to pull down one of his foes so his rider could get a better strike at him, but only wounded him. Gorfang killed him anyway, and turned to attack another.
Méabh looked around at the archers, and her eyes narrowed. Between the armoured creatures plying their bows, she could see an area of distortion in the air, a blur, as if there was something concealed there. She threw a Dispel Magic at it, and felt the magic there crumble helplessly with some satisfaction. Suddenly, an eleventh ratman was standing there, lightly dressed in comparison with the odd bits of metal strapped to the others. Méabh spurred her horse towards this new arrival. As she rode, she drew Rilliantorin in battle for the first time. The shimmering silver blade left the scabbard with a faint, musical ring, and felt light and well-balanced in her grip. Her feelings of anger and uncertainty receded a little, and her confidence rose slightly.
Gorfang cut down two more of the warriors on his side of the battle, and Shamlakh pulled a third down which the orc finished off as well. Then the pair were bounding up the slope towards the ratman archers, who were looking distinctly unhappy at this turn of events.
Eloy dropped his bow and drew Bereloth. As the ratmen charged towards him, he struck out, bringing one down and wounding another. As he did so, he saw Méabh ride past, heading uphil and dealing a disabling blow with a bright silver sword to a third ratman who tried to stop her as she passed. Eloy spun and finished the victim of that off, then retrieved his bow as no foes were left within striking distance.
Méabh reached the top of her side of the valley - causing the surviving archers that side to break and flee - and struck a flat-of-the-blade blow at the spellcaster, who she now saw was probably a female slitheren. The blow was enough to numb the creature's weapon arm, and when Méabh grated "Drop it!" the rat-woman complied.
Atop the other rise, Gorfang and Shamlakh had overrun the archery position and killed two of the three surviving archers. They were turning to close in on the other when an arrow zipped disturbingly closely by and killed it. Eloy grinned up at them from below, and the battle was over.
Méabh leaned on her saddlebow and addressed the ratmage in the common tongue. "What are you doing here, attacking us, sister?" The creature swallowed nervously. "We raid here, make good living from foolish travellers," she said in adequate Common. "My brother - he had map to place with treasure in mountains, tell me this good place to come. I kill him if I see again." Méabh looked her in the eye. "I feel good today," she said reflectively. "Tell me why you're really here and I'll let you go." The ratmage glanced at the bright blade in the aasimar's hand. "Well... " she said slowly, "there was the Big Bad. Big Bad in ruins, north four days' march. They told me that this was a good valley to raid in, that foolish and weak travellers with big purses would come this way. Now it not seem such good advice. Are you going to kill the Big Bads? Angirah wish you luck." Méabh nodded; Fae Mhor suggestion power, artfully used to affect the place the ratmen went to do what they'd be doing anyway - even after it wore off, they'd think it was their own idea. She sheathed her sword. "Go in peace," she said, "Here - take this," and she handed a healing potion to her foe as she turned her horse. Angirah looked up at her. Then she pulled what looked like a knot of rat-hairs from her belt and handed it up. "Here," she said. "Show that to slitheren. They not harm you if you have that."
The ratmage waved her arms, re-casting the Blur spell she'd been protected by before, and scuttled off into the boulders. A few moments later, Gorfang and Shamlakh bounded past and down the other side. Screams away in the rain indicated that they were having fun tracking down the last survivors of the raiders, but Méabh was pretty sure they hadn't caught Angirah.
Two days later they crested a rise and looked down on what their maps said was what remained of the city of Amberlan. Darker shadows against the grass hinted at sizable ruins, though details were not visible. Occasional stretches of wall were visible, and the odd half-tumbled tower. They could see the odd humanoid figure here and there, moving with the slow pace of sentries. A few, smaller silhouettes moved with more grace - probably dark elves.
Discussion commenced about how to approach the place. The concept of 'under cover of darkness' didn't seem to work terribly well when applied to Fae Mhor; but Gorfang recalled hearing that the dark elves were disadvantaged in daylight. That being the case, maybe a daytime approach would be better? 
The looted equipment Eloy had brought was enough for at least two disguises, and he had a head start trying to mimic a dark elf with his tanned complexion and pale hair. Both he and Méabh had magic that could fill in the gaps. However, some more information would be useful, so Méabh cast an Arcane Eye and sent it down to recon the city. As it soared over the site, and as it moved Méabh murmured softly to the others, describing what the invisible sphere was witnessing.
Amberlan consisted largely of mounds and irregularities in the green carpet of the tough scrub grass that covered the plains here in the Debatable Lands between Tarlanor and the giant-haunted Engeror Mountains. Odd stretches of wall remained, varying in height from the original 30' to a foot or less. Five perimeter towers survived, a couple of them almost intact but the others mere fragments. A few buildings, mostly on the south side of the city, were marked by pieces of wall - one long building appeared almost intact from the air.
A depression in the eastern corner of the ruins resembled an Erlyid amphitheatre, and dim lights - like multiple faerie fire or dancing lights spells - illuminated it well enough for Méabh to see several pairs of fighters whirling, striving, dying for the pleasure of their dark elf masters. Some looked like orcs, though Méabh was careful not to descend too close in case the Eye was detected.
In the centre of the city was a flat-topped conical mound, with fragments of overgrown wall on it indicating that this had once been the citadel of the city. One small tower remained almost complete, and dim lights could be seen in that.
Méabh's attention returned to the walls themselves. Something was odd about the patterns of guards. She stared closer, and then it hit her. Not only were they arranged to defend certain areas of the city - usually towers - from attack from outside, but inside as well. Enclaves, she thought; factions. Maybe - just maybe - the dark elves' chaotic nature could be used against them here....
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