Tuesday, December 17, 2013

#49 - Gamblers, Shifters, and Elementals

Excerpt from the Cypher's Codex: The Scrawlings of a Warforged Scholar


The carnival proved to be a successful adventure. All of the party members were able to secure tickets to attend dinner with the renowned Three, the King’s Protector. I actually met him once, after the Battle of Brey Crossing. He wouldn’t remember me but my former unit, the Brelish Engineers Brigade, set traps before the battle, helping to stave off the overwhelming enemy attack against King Boranel, Three, and his warforged companions until the greater part of the Brelish forces could relieve them.


Pictured: A ghost tiger of the
non-stuffed variety
Along with several of my companions I acquired a belt pouch of holding, an expensive curiosity. This pouch, which I call Spacium, is a finely made oiled leather pouch of ordinary size with a narrow opening of 2.5 inches in diameter. Average magic has been infused in the pouch to transform its inside into a multidimensional space, allowing me to put many items in it without increasing its external volume or overburdening me. I’ve read many theories about the science behind extradimensional spaces and look forward to analyzing this exceptional item. Magnus bought one for himself but had trouble understanding the peculiar physics of the item. His countenance was uplifted when I demonstrated the pouch’s use by inserting an entire javelin into the opening. I look forward to analyzing Spacium at a later time. With my remaining House Phiarlian shadow pieces, I purchased a finely crafted stuffed mimicry of a ghost tiger. King Boranel, my esteemed liege and rightful ruler of the lands of Galifar, is well known to keep two domesticated magebred ghost tigers as pets. I admit to having had a sense of loss since losing my first Rungo, the stuffed bear likeness that I found in the satchel I won by defeating the gargoyle in a duel in the streets of Graywall. I was forced to sell toy Rungo to a night hag under curious circumstances. She expressed delight to receive an item, even mundane, that was treasured at one time by a child. I don’t like to part with things but she had offered clues about the origins of the schema I found inside Claviger’s disabled corpus. I have named the new stuffed toy Stripes. On the way back into town, Kard announced that he would not be retiring with the rest of the tired party. He declared interest in a game of Three-Dragon Ante, a card game used to gamble coin. I was not in need of rest myself and I did not fully trust in Kard since his brazen admittal to harboring unbridled anger toward my entire race, so I insisted upon joining him. I asked Grapnel to join me as well, hoping to elicit discomfort from Kard by forcing him to be in the company of only warforged companions. Kard hid his discomfort, if he felt any, and seemed keen on getting to the game.
We went to the tavern known as the Everflowing Cup, a boisterous place filled mostly with humans drinking, carousing, and gambling. I sat in on the game with Kard and he explained the rules to me, much to the amusement of the roughians we were competing with. I won the first hand but proceeded to lose after that. Someone in the crowd that had gathered to watch us mentioned beginner’s luck, but I had not read any research on that subject. Perhaps Olladra, the goddess of fortune, offers a cosmic solution to what people call luck. When the stakes of the game finally peaked at 50 galifars I opted out. Instead I carefully watched the dynamics of the game being played. I think I have figured out the nuances of the game, some thoughtfully-used infusions could greatly increase a player’s odds of winning. Kard won the final round against Cutter, the “alpha male” of the group of human gamblers, and took in a count of over 200 galifars. Yet Kard still wanted to continue playing so Cutter offered to make things more “interesting,” and he did indeed. Cutter claimed to have possession of a shifter girl and asked us what we would put on the table to play against that, even though he did not produce said shifter girl on top of the table himself. This offer was quite distressing to us, as I took it to imply that he had enslaved a shifter. I rummaged through my possessions trying to find something of equal value to another’s soul. I asked Kard what was the value of a shifter girl but his response was no help to me. I pulled out my newly acquired Gryphon Feather, infused with the power of a feather fall spell. Cutter laughed at me, and looked around at the growing crowd and said, “Does this look like Sharn to you, warforged?”

Kard then offered to remove the middle digit of his hand if he were to lose the hand of cards. Cutter was shocked at first by this, so Kard gave Grapnel a dagger and gave him instructions on how to perform a crude phalangectomy. His forthrightness may just have stunned Cutter into accepting the wager. I had to further instruct a very confused Grapnel to hold his surgical action in case Kard won the bet, which thankfully he did because Kard won the final round of Three-Dragon Ante. I have no trouble performing my duties with three digits on each hand, but I doubt the warforged-disparaging human would have been the same without his fifth finger. Cutter grumbled a bit from his loss but stated outwardly that “Aza” was more trouble than she was worth. It turned out that Aza, the young shifter girl he had lost to us, was in fact his stepdaughter. No mention was made as to the whereabouts of her mother.

Aza was a young shifter of eleven years with tiger-like (longtooth) features and a feisty yet sullen demeanor. Kard tried to calm the child and get her to tell us about her mother but she did not respond helpfully. I attempted to placate the child by giving her Stripes, knowing that children often used stuffed animal likenesses as toys. To me she did not seem interested in the ghost tiger so I took it back but Kard insisted that I force it upon her and she took it. I am not skilled at reading the nuances of children’s behaviors. We returned to the Golden Chalice and Kard gave her sustenance, which she accepted unappreciatively but with obvious voraciousness. The rest of our party had already retired by that time and Kard had Aza sleep in his room. I told Grapnel to stand guard outside her door and Kard joined him, although Kard fell asleep in the hallway, propped against the wall in a chair, almost immediately upon sitting. I spent the rest of the night in Magnus’s and Rendar’s room gathering up my arcane powers and practicing with the magical whip I won in the Graywall Arena, the Tongue of Hrasta.

In the morning, when Magnus and Rendar returned to an active state, I told them about Aza. Then Kard discovered that she was missing. We ran into the room to inspect the scene and I retrieved a situational report of the night’s affairs from Grapnel. He hadn’t heard anything from inside the room but confirmed that no one had entered or exited through the door he was guarding. He did tell me that he suspected Aza might have been into espionage, as her behavior was in line with a spy’s. I shared my findings with Magnus and Rendar. Magnus was mostly bemused by the entire experience but was not moved into action; he sat down for a lengthy meal. Rendar agreed that there might be a problem so I spent the next minutes coming up with a plan for finding Aza while the other’s ate their first meal. I intended to use Rendar’s Mark of Finding to locate Stripes. To maximize the efficiency of his power, he and I would run through the city in a circular pattern, hopefully homing in on Aza’s location. Aleae and Clarion arrived just then; they had spent the night outside the city at a temple of the Sovereign Host called the Arcadium. I apprised them of the situation. Aleae was similarly bemused by the events and sat down to eat with Magnus—whose appetite seemed to exceed even Rendar’s. She thought I was being foolish; she is such a selfish creature. Kard, proving again his lack of sympathy and disdain for teamwork, left the tavern in order to pray at the Arcadium. Exacerbated, I left with Rendar to find the girl. Within minutes of running through the city in a military reconnaissance pattern, Rendar’s dragonmark powers detected the stuffed ghost tiger inside a warehouse down by the city’s docks. Winded, on account of his limited hominid body, he remained to keep watch over the warehouse and I marched hastily back to the tavern to assemble the party for support.

I was on a mission by that point. I had a clear military target and a strategy to achieve my goal. I ordered the rest of the party into action. My demeanor seemed to stun my companions, because this time nobody argued with me and they prepared to journey to the warehouse. A hungover Myrcose arrived in the tavern just as we were leaving. I gave him a quick situation report and he agreed to direct Kard to the warehouse once he returned from his poorly-timed pilgrimage.

At the warehouse again, I quickly positioned the party in strategic patrols alongside two walls of the warehouse. I formulated a plan whereby I would climb to a window 15 feet high and gauge the situation inside the building. Aleae demanded more of an active role, but I insisted on taking first recon. I instructed her to send arcane messages to me every 30 seconds so I could relay instructions from above. I infused a piece of chalk with the magical essence of stealth, causing its bearer’s form to shimmer slightly when viewed by an untrained eye. I climbed to the window and peered inside, but the dim lighting in the warehouse prevented me from seeing anything of note. I messaged Aleae to join me, her eladrin eyesight being better suited for the conditions. Meanwhile, Kard arrived with Myrcose, who immediately walked off to “tend” to an errant dock worker that had stumbled upon our growingly tense situation. The opposite side of this wharehouse complex was busy with dock workers and we had hoped to avoid their notice. Aleae gracefully jumped through the window onto a high stack of boxes, having seen no immediate danger, and I followed her. Magnus grew impatient and started mauling the locked door near him, prompting Rendar to run around the building’s corner to another locked door. I lost sight of Aleae as she delved deeper into the structure but I heard no signs of immediate danger so I infused my gemstone eyes with arcane light and made my way to the door that Magnus was emulsifying. There were stacks of crates blocking his path, so I started to move them to aid his progress into the building.

From across the dimly-lit, box-filled space, we heard the loud clamor of crates and boxes being forced apart. At about the time that Rendar breached his door, a large amalgamation of packed soil and chunks of rocks, formed into a 12-foot-tall humanoid shape, stepped into view in front of Rendar. I immediately recognized this creature to be an incarnation of the Earthly Elements. The situation turned to chaos instantly, as much of the party was not in communication. I furiously ruptured the boxes to let Magnus and Kard into the building, and Magnus set upon the creature with fury immediately upon entering.

Having identified the creature as an earth elemental, and knowing that the raw power of the elements could not be easily controlled, I determined it to be a threat. I set about preparing an elemental prod from one of my spent wands, a new and powerful infusion against such beings of the worldly essences. Just as I was about to use the infused wand to manipulate the spacial location of the elemental, it was swallowed up into the ground. Rather, it descended into the earth of its own volition and power; I knew that it would reappear in moments and I readied myself for the ultimate battle, elemental vs. artificer. Were my alchemical fluids capable of boiling in the way Magnus flew into a rage, I would have been smoldering hot. The arcane power within me flowed. I was ready for this earthly creation’s next move.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

#48 - Hydras and Lady Elves

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.


After the Xen'drik tent we were all a bit worn out and we decided to review our shadow pieces and see if we were ready to leave. Most of us had over ten so we'd be invited to the dinner party. Since it wasn’t too late, and some of us wanted one or two more pieces we decided to stay for a few more games.

But first, we saw another elf woman. Like a Xoma, she was a drow, or appeared to be, and she wore pale scorpion-style armor. On a silver leash she had a dog. Well, perhaps not a dog—a massive hound as black as the night sky above Seren on cloudy nights, it may not be a true canine. Like a hunting dog that had grown too long and had rolled around in shadow mud. Hard to say.

The beast was staring at Aleae, who did not seem happy about it. She walked up to the drow woman to have words about her pet. I didn't hear what was said between the elves, but Aleae soon walked brusquely away, leaving both Cypher and Clarion were left standing awkwardly. Which now seems to be a pattern. Rendar also went up to the hound to pet it. Cypher tried to analyze it like he would his iron dog. The shadow beast seemed calmer and more like a dog now with Aleae gone. The drow also seemed friendlier.
Shadows mastiffs, it is said in arcane circles,
originated in Mabar, the Plane of Endless Night

Elves.

Looking around we saw a tower-climbing challenge and a drinking challenge. Closer to hand were a spinning wheel, a juggler, and an ice carver working near the steps of a little roofed porch unattached to any building. (I heard this is called a gazebo. There are no gazebos on Seren or Argonessen. Back home, we call Khorvaire the Land of Demons. Gazebos are therefore demonic.)

Kard led the charge to the spinning wheel. The game was that you had to throw a dagger—made of shadows?—at the wheel and hit one of the slots marked winner. The higher the number, the greater the reward. It cost a shadow piece to play. I didn’t understand the wheel and I asked Cypher to help me see if it was likely for me to win. He said that the game was even. I wasn’t willing to give a shadow piece to get one back.

As the party gathered round, it turned out that you could bet up to three shadow pieces and that the wheel could be....controlled somehow....and the chances were better if you confessed a secret to the crowd. Elves seem to like shadows and secrets. I had no secrets for sale, but Kard was really ready to go.

Kard took the dagger hilt, which then grew a blade of shadow, and shouted out his secret:  “All warforged are an abomination and should be punished for their crimes!” or something to that effect. In the stunned silence that followed, he threw his dagger and I can’t even remember if he won or lost. He casually left the area and the entire party started to chatter about what he meant and what to do about it. I don’t understand what his problem is, but I think it could be a problem for the party.

I wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the spinner game, I was looking at the climbing tower. Soon the party approached the juggler—who juggled shadow coins—who appeared to be offering a shadow piece for the answer to a riddle. He said: "Somewhere in the Carnival is a House Phiarlan performer who I love above all others. Discover her name and tell it to me. If you are correct, you will receive one—or several—of these shadow pieces. For every wrong answer, I will take one of yours and add it to my collection."

The many-headed hydra is the
symbol of House Phiarlan.
I don’t think it was actually a woman, elf or not. No one had any guesses, at least not yet.

At the climbing tower we all gave it a try and I almost made it, but at the top was an illusion of several hydra heads which I tried to ignore, but just at the last bit I fell and was floated down to earth on some magic like Xoma used to do. Cypher alone made the climb successfully, I think that he was the only one. I recall that Clarion, like me, nearly made it to the top, but slipped at the last. Rendar, too. Aleae didn't get very far at all. She is limber and quick, but has proven to be a better jumper than climber.

After falling to the ground, we looked for easier challenges, circling the drinking challenge. All the past contestants were unconscious on the ground, and I wasn’t ready to get dead drunk...yet.

Near the ice sculptures, was a challenge we overlooked. There was an pale elf, like Aleae, but with solid, blood red eyes. Her name and title, as we heard other people say, was Amaryllis, the Lady of Ice and Blood and Mistress of the Carnival. Carnivals elves said, "Any who can make her laugh, or impress her with a story—preferably a personal one—can earn one shadow piece."

Laugh? I had the perfect joke! I worked it through in my head first to be sure I would have it right.

Sadly, Cypher and Clarion went up first. These warforged don’t even really understand humor—what were they doing? As they stood mute for a few seconds, I pushed up and told the old joke about the lady in the bar. The ice elf chuckled and gave a signal to the others that I was to get a coin.

But actually, no, Aleae went first—and wow, whatever she said to the ice elf was clearly not funny at all. She is terrible at this. I was expecting her to walk away brusquely like she did with the drow, but no, this time Aleae maybe had been pleasant. She had a long conversation with the red-eyed elf woman, she even pulled out her bauble, that orb of crystal, to share with her. Eventually the elf lady smiled in the end and gave Aleae a coin. Finally Cypher found his voice and had a conversation of his own with the lady elf. No laughter, but she gave him a coin anyway. Out of pity, perhaps? Clarion also told some tale in his voice, did some music and won a coin. Entertainment, I guess, is more important than laughter?

While Clarion told his tale, it occurred to me that this ice elf might have the power to unlock my bone mace—for the medusa priestess insisted that strong elemental cold was required to release more of its power. I asked Cypher what he thought, and we agreed to ask Aleae what she thought. She said it was likely, but she wanted my bond on a future promise, which she would hold me to later. Many have tried to tame the Serens, when the time comes I will see if she is worthy of the promise she extracted.

Together we approached the ice elf again. She insisted on knowing who my enemies were, since she may already be involved. I told her about the tribal conflicts that made me leave Seren. She agreed to help, but would only talk at the dinner party two nights hence. Glad I have a ticket for that!

When we left, Kard started in muttering to me about small dragons and that he might have seen one on the roof of the little porch while I was talking to the ice elf. It sounded like a pseudo-dragon—a tiny and distant but true cousin of dragonkind. We went back to her (again!) and asked if she knew about it. She said yes, and we would talk about it later.

Pseudodragons are said to
be the size of domestic cats,
have poisonous stingers on
their tails, and can mimic
the sound of any animal.
At this point Aleae insisted on returning to the juggling elf, convinced she had solved his riddle. Evidently the elf Mistress of the Carnival was one of her own kind—"eladrin" is the word I keep hearing tossed about—and had stayed on Eberron and married a normal elf. Aleae believed the juggler was the elf in question.

Aleae was wrong, though, so she lost a shadow piece. The mistress wasn't the one the elf "loved above all others." Maybe this is good for Aleae; she isn't always right. She was very upset by it, though.

Elves.

I guess we are done here for now. We went to the gate and traded in our shadow pieces.  Many of us got a magical pouch of holding, which seems really useful, but kind of small. I wonder if they make bags? Others also got stuffed animals, and I think Kard got a special Carnival ring. The ring I wear, which I bought in Graywall, is much better, though.

Friday, November 22, 2013

#47 - Acid, Eggs, and Errant Fish

Excerpt from the Personal Chronicles of Aleae Dyo'ionah Tiamah D'maii Dwin' Eytherarnith



As we quietly awaited the arrival of the others in the darkened hallway following the illusionary sphinx, a passage illuminated only by the slight flicker of an everburning candle moving in place on the far right wall, I did my best to ignore the ghastly stench that hit my nostrils and without further investigation struck me as a sad combination of wet gnoll and orc entwined with a touch of rot harbinger lingering in this air. I casually glanced to my left and then to my right, my vertically stretched shadow twisting with and greeting me on either side, but Rendar was nowhere to be found. Hmmm… Humanoids and orcs mating. I know that the half-orc race has existed for over one thousand years—by Eberron's standards—but I wonder if that first “combination” was voluntary or forced? Was the maternal parent human or orc? Are there issues during birth if the female is a full human? Note to self: At next athenaeum, gather further information on origins of half-orc species.

My train of thought was quickly broken as the prevailing stench made its origins fully known the moment a “bloodied” Rendar and Cypher stepped into the passageway. The odor that went along with the red substance with which they were soiled must have shed countless tears upon these floors and was clearly elevated by some pre-existing “conditions.” There was no possible way I could continue our journey with this fetor. The nutriment purchased earlier from the gangly low-elf vendor pirouetted through my abdominal region like pixies in fairy rings beneath the light of a bright winter’s moon. With a quick word and slight swivel of the second and third digits of my right hand, the two were made tolerable and we proceeded towards the door to the next test.

It seems the designers did not prognosticate talent such as ours partaking in their illusionary adventures as we were required to wait for the party ahead to conclude their task and the low-elves to reset the challenge. As clatter and cursing from elsewhere infiltrated the corridor and the others strained to listen, I slowed my breath and looked inward to shoulder the noise. Using the chant my father taught me when I was but five years amongst the worlds to steady my thoughts, “Om burvasat bhura da’vit sah ha,” I rapidly regained my center.
A thin, darkened door at the end of the hallway slid open, disappearing into the wall. Strong, illusionary sunshine filled the walkway; its beams warming my skin and temporarily blinding me. My eyes strained in their adjustment from the dim lighting effects of the one tiny everburning candle to the grandiose rays of a desert sun.

Our feet sank comfortable into sand as we traipsed into the new arena. Sounds of waves dancing in the water and birds chirruping high above frolicked for my attention. A massive stone wall loomed approximately 40 feet high and 40 feet out from where we stood, intensifying the room’s vastness. The floor of sand was pristine save for the gigantic egg in the center and a few other seemingly random items scattered about its surface (a ladder, wooden pole, a ring, and a small metal cube). A low-elf hidden somewhere in the rafters overhead announced our challenge: “The egg is a roc egg. You have been tasked with recovering it for a group of mermaids; only with their help can you cross the perilous rivers of Xen’drik to reach your destination! You must deliver the egg into the water beyond the high wall. Be careful not to break it, though; despite its size, it’s somewhat fragile.” The hourglass indicated a time limit of twenty minutes. Separation commenced without conference as individually we engaged assiduously with our surroundings.

Although I fully understand and thoroughly embrace the thrill of executing a puzzle a moment before the sun smiles at a unicorn, would removing these limits of time not afford participants the opportunity to engage in moments of laughter and gaiety, imbuing a sense of merriment amongst all who participated? Is not that the aspiration of a carnival?

Rocs are enormous avians large
enough, it is said, even for
giants to ride.
INITIAL ASSESSMENTS:

Item: 3” Metal Cube
Examiner: Self
Findings: 

  • lightweight
  • no discernible openings
  • easily pushed deep into the sand  (Note: The sand’s depth was beyond that of arm’s reach, roughly 2’ 4.6513”.) 

Conclusion:  Drawing from our previous encounters with room objects of indeterminate application, I believed the 3” metal cube with no markings or openings was most likely magical in nature. Further investigation was necessary and best completed by one who had trained appropriately. In current company, I postulated that position is best held by the smaller warforged, Cypher.

Item: "Roc" Egg
Examiner: Clarion & Kard
Findings:
  • 12’ long x 8’ wide
  • exceptionally heavy
  • fragile

Conclusion: We would not be able to move the egg simply by using our group’s strength. Additional tools would be necessary.

Item: Ring
Examiners: Cypher and Kard
Findings:
  • small
  • no markings
  • when worn: ▪ a disc of solid black appears approximately 3’ above the surface below ▪ disc follows wearer within a 5’ radius ▪ wearer can control the disc’s horizontal position within this 5’ radius ▪ wearer cannot control the disc’s vertical position ▪ center of disc is depressed at an angle of approximately 3.1875 degrees ▪ disc can hold a maximum weight of approximately 500 lbs
Conclusion: Use the floating disc to move the egg.

Item: Pole
Examiner: ???? (Magnus or Rendar)
Findings:
  • wooden
  • thick, approximately 3” in diameter
Conclusion:  This is an ordinary pole.

Item: Ladder
Examiner: Rendar
Findings:
  • 10’ long
  • metal
Conclusion:  This is an ordinary ladder.

Coming together momentarily to disseminate our initial findings, we promptly dissolved into smaller groups and solo efforts and continued with the mission. While I inspected the right side of the substantial stone wall for imperfections and clues to overcome its enormity—to no avail, I’m afraid—Cypher squatted closer to the entrance and examined the metal cube. Magnus, Clarion, and Rendar finagled with getting the egg atop the disc with Kard as the disc’s controller. I must admit, this scene did have me stray a bit from my investigation. Many times I had to bite the inner side of my cheek to keep from chuckling aloud as the larger three moved sand like corpulent kobold tunnelers attempting to get the wedged angled disc horizontal. Just when I thought I could no longer hold the laughter back, the half-orc realized that the pole could be used as leverage to help pry the egg off the ground and within moments, had it upon the disc.

This triumph was short lived as moments later, Cypher having deduced the means necessary to activate the cube, did just that. Force fields erupted in waves from the tiny block, pushing Cypher, the egg, and those surrounding the egg multiple feet from where they started. We all gasped as a 30’ high stone monolith arose next to the wall filling a 20’ area on the floor. Having a firmer grasp as to what could be expected from this object afforded us the opportunity to establish its exact role in our mission.

I, along with Magnus (surprisingly quick thinking for such a boorish creature), suggested that we bury the cube in the sand at the center of where we wished for it to appear. This way we could maneuver the disc holding the egg above this zone and hopefully, once activated, the monolith would carry the egg carefully lifted by the disc to the top of the monolith. The others agreed that this logical plan was sound.

Cypher easily deactivated the cube, handed it off to me and Magnus to bury deep in the sand. The egg was once again positioned on the disc and Kard, with the help of Clarion and Rendar, carefully maneuvered it over the spot where the cube was buried.

Except for Cypher (who kept a safe distance in what appeared to the collective as a bout of cowardice), we all surrounded the egg, linking hands to buffer possible damage created by the cube upon activation (which Cypher was to perform). I prepared myself both mentally and physically to collectively rise with the egg atop the monolith. Once the signal was given, the cube sprung into action in the sand below. Our attempt to act as a cushion was thwarted as a tremendous force blew us aside like colorful leaves pulled from the branches of their regal trees in the Eldeen by the cold winds of early Sypheros. As Kard was propelled backwards, the disc followed him, and slipped out from underneath the egg. Nonetheless our plan worked out and the egg rose, unharmed, with the monolith to its top. Clarion, who had taken the position by the corner—the most perilous location in the circle—was momentarily stuck between “a rock and a hard place.” With an uncomfortable cacophony of screeching noises of metal against stone, he emerged from out of the small opening between the wall the the monolith covered in various scratches and scrapes.

Cypher was the first to make his way into the door of the monolith and up the stairs that led to its top, with Magnus, Kard, and Rendar carrying the ladder close behind. Cypher, now in possession of the ring, summoned the disc while the others repositioned the egg atop it. The ladder was placed at an angle to bridge the gap between the monolith and wall. Cypher bound up the makeshift staircase to the top, the disc closely followed him with Magnus and Clarion at its back to stabilize the egg as it rose up the incline.

Time was of the essence. We had less than two minutes to complete our task. Unfortunately, we had summoned the tower on the exact opposite side from where stairs led straight into what we were to believe was the mermaidens’ cove. The wall, though high, was a generous 5’ in its width, and Cypher easily navigated down its length with the egg in tow. The confidence he gained from this quick traversal almost got the better of the warforged as the equally swift transfer from the wall to the stairs very nearly sent the egg tumbling off the disc to the sand below. Only with the help of Magnus and Rendar was a catastrophe averted. The egg made it intact, in the end rolling over Cypher’s back and head, safely into the water with only seconds to spare. “Hooray!” Mermaiden cheers surrounded us and we were each handsomely rewarded with two Shadow Coins.

A short and enjoyable swim through the warm peacock-colored waters of the mermaidens’ cove ushered us towards the entrance of the following room, its surroundings reminiscent of a dilapidated hut in the far reaches of a swamp. Hot and muggy, the air thick with sweat, two natural-colored, wooden tables were before us. The table on the left housed a rather large glass tank filled with an assortment of fish of varying hues and sizes. Along side it, a small net made of braided dry marsh reed and mesh, most likely provided so as to catch fish. The table on the right contained eight uncapped pint jars each filled to relatively 1” below capacity with distinct tints: yellow, white, green, red, purple, brown, black, and blue. Stir sticks and an empty container with four lines marked evenly up its side were beside the pint jars.

An actual green hag would not
likely have presented so
innocuous a challenge.
A low-elf from above introduced the challenge: “You have taken shelter in an abandoned hut, starving and hiding from the dangers of the jungle. Here you have found a cache of food and wine. But alas...the hut once belonged to a green hag and you’ve inadvertently imperiled yourselves! Each of you has been poisoned, and you have until the sand runs out to figure out—and consume—the cure among the hag’s alchemical solutions. Take a look at all of these fishies. You’ll notice that there are fishies here of several colors. One of them is the antidote to the poison you drank. Of course, another color is even more poisonous—you swallow that one, you’ll be dead instantly. Yes, even you warforged. Your task is to figure out what color of fishie you need to swallow, and to do that, you’ll have to follow this set of instructions. If you’re all ready, then, let’s begin!”

The directions to determine the color of the fish which we should consume seemed simple enough: Add one part red, to one part hue of the majority of fish, to one part blue, to one part hue of the largest fish. Employing the basics of color theory gained during summer chroma mastery training at Hafleikr Adu in my 10th year afforded me the ability to immediately surmise the final color must be either a shade of purple, brown, or black with the majority of possible mixtures creating a brownish hue. (Unless, of course, the tints were somehow magical in nature.)

The fish were extremely nimble and swam considerably fast making use of the net to extract them from the aquarium one by one laborious. Draining the water from the tank and then turning the fish out into a far corner for separation and counting would accelerate the process dramatically. Magnus initiated this task, lifting the tank effortlessly off the table and angling it just right so the water poured out at a precise rate that supported both speed and accuracy. I held the net at the corner of the tank, ensuring no fish escaped during the siphoning. In response to Magnus’ action, the two warforged seized the timbered table and positioned it on its side at the room’s watery entry, impeding the escape of any fish that may have gotten loose during the straining.

Once the fish were separated from the water it should have been very straight forward to classify them by color and make the necessary observations. Clarion seemed surprisingly maladroit at handling the fish and one absconded from his three-fingered hands. Despite the barricaded entrance, this fish managed to find the one gap large enough to squeeze through and hastily vanished into the depths of the waterway.  Note to self: Establish why (most) warforged have only three fingers. It doesn’t appear to be particularly difficult to have added a few more fingers and it would seem to have made them to a marked degree more dexterous. Also, inquire as to the scope of warforged limbs. Personal field research shows that warforged with larger capacities for thought are two-legged/two-armed. Would not an increase in limbs allow for improved movement, speed, and use of weaponry?

A distressed Clarion immediately confessed to the accident, informing us that he was regrettably unable to establish the color of fish prior to it fleeing his grip. This incident could have very well made our findings unreliable.

The counts were promptly established and a simple pattern emerged: 1 Yellow, 2 Green, 3 Black, 3 Purple, 5 Brown, 6 Red, 7 Blue and 8 White. Clarion must have lost a black or a purple fish. Following our instructions Cypher and Clarion handled the mixing of the colors. The result was a distinct strong brownish hue–the tints were not magical in nature. 

Five brown fish for six adventures. I suppose the low-elves running this establishment use this tactic to create waves within the group’s psyche for the remaining tests all while getting a chuckle out of seeing groups fight over the “cure” for a false poison. Without a word Kard swallowed the first fish live, followed by Cypher who unceremoniously smashed the poor brown creature on the table top with his fist before devouring its mangled corpse. Since warforged do not eat under normal circumstances I can only imagine that the slight flicker of his solid eyes was an expression of surprise. What is to become of this fish is yet unknown and I fear it may have to be extracted from his construction at some point in the near future to prevent the smell of rot from overtaking his being. For his, as well as the rest of his travelling party, I hope the fish was purely illusory. Magnus was next and his smile suggested he enjoyed the feeling of pulverizing a live fish with his teeth. Conceivably, this is not the first time he has had to partake in an act or ritual with such macabre undertones. His primitiveness was illuminated further when he rinsed the bits of chewed carcass from his mouth with a large portion of the brownish paint cocktail. “Just to be sure,” he said while drips of brown emerged from the corners of his mouth. Evidently, following simple instructions is not his strong suit.  
Dol Arrah, the Sovereign of
Sun and sacrifice, probably
approved of Clarion's admission
and self-sacrifice.

With two “cures” and three “poisoned victims” remaining, Clarion immediately offered to be the one to go without a fish, citing his earlier—and potentially disastrous—mishap and the likely eternal favor of the lady he honors, Dol Arrah. Without delay, Rendar responded that he would share his fish with Clarion–a behavior most inconsistent with what I know of half-orcs! Feasibly, this grasp on proper etiquette could have its basis in the fact that this half-orc’s background is one of haut monde. Being that Rendar hardly knows Clarion, it would have been an unforgivable faux pas to let Rendar do Clarion this honour. 

After killing the fish with a single graceful, but severe blow on the tabletop, I delicately bit off only the front half, offering the remaining back portion to the massive warforged. The gesture was promptly interrupted by our unseen guide who reminded us that the “cure” was an entire fish; fractions would not suffice. With a remorseful glance, I apologized to Clarion and swallowed the tail end of my fish. I attempted to persuade him to eat a purple fish—just in case the fish he lost was both white and the largest in size, which would be the only possible way we were incorrect in our assessment, but he refused. Maybe he shared the same concerns about a warforged’s “digestive tract” as I did.  

Excluding Clarion, all were “cured” and respectively received two Shadow Pieces before moving into the next room. I found great pleasure in this moments as a calming rhythm emerged between the challenges. Either our tasks were becoming easier or a chemistry was awakening betwixt us that increased our effectiveness, as the solutions were fast becoming obvious all the while rewarding us with more and more of these amusing coins.
Inwardly, Kard was most amused by
consumption of a brown fish.

The next room was similar to that of a hallway in a dungeon: narrow, long, and darkened with two pools of “deadly” acid each as wide as the hallway and eight feet in length separating us from the exit. Suspended by a thick iron chain two feet above the furthest acid pond was a cage in which a garishly-painted female House Phiarlan low-elf clad in a frilly dress, long gloves, and a scarf acted as a captured aristocrat. The iron chain was fed through a pulley attached to the ceiling above and fastened to a hook on our left. A low-elf shrouded in the darkness called out: “Uh-oh! The drow caught up to your camp and raided you during the night. Though you drove them off, they have captured the daughter of your expedition’s leader, a noblewoman of the Five Nations! In attempt to lure you to your death, they have placed her in a cage suspended above a vat of powerful acid! But be careful; the chain supporting her cage is a deadly contact poison—which affects even warforged!”

Once again, the solution was needed before the allotted time elapsed (yet again with these limits!). On the floor next to us were two ten-foot metal spears which we could use in any way we saw fit. A jump across the pools to the ground between would not be easy for there was no space to get a running start and the sheen on the floor indicated that it may be slippery. We found ourselves spending most of the time discussing many possible courses of action. At some point Clarion decided that he had to take a closer look at the cage and jumped over the first pool with such ease that he made the distance look miniscule—so small indeed that he almost cleared the platform in the center, vaulting straight into the second pool of acid. Luckily, he was able to stabilize himself at the last moment by hanging onto the cage. This afforded him the opportunity to get that “closer look,” but at a rate I believe to be much faster than he most likely anticipated. Further discussions ensued, specifically plans to use the metal spears as a crossing bridge.  

Magnus, having tired from scholarly rumination, lunged towards the first landing, but his strength betrayed him. He overshot the platform dramatically and disappeared into the second pool of acid before Clarion had any chance to help him, disappearing from our view altogether and likely succumbing to “death.”

Our cautious approach seemed ever more prudent and we continued examining how best to use the spears. Cypher placed about two inches of the dull end of one spear into the corrosive material to see how it would react. The acid did indeed burn away the metal relatively fast. It would barely bend though under great force so from here on out we resolved to consistently used the spears to traverse the pools. One spear was placed on the floor on either side of the pool and held in place by a foot as to assure that it would not shift while the other spear was held a few feet above ground by persons on either side to allow relatively safe passage.

Kard was first to walk across and attempted to open the lock of the cage by burning it away with acid gathered on the shortened spear. He did so repeatedly while Cypher and I made our journey to the last of the platforms joining Clarion. Eventually, Kard succeeded at reducing the lock to a mere shell, but this did not prove advantageous. Even though the lock had no more mechanical significance the door would not open. Obviously the rules of this game were only roughly based on this world’s reality.

All was not lost, for using the acid to burn part of the cage away sparked an idea in Clarion’s mind and he suggested we lower the cage into the pit allowing the acid to eat away the bottom of the cage creating an opening through which the princess could escape. We discussed a few approaches to accomplish this task and eventually set a course of action that, to me, was poorly edited, yet time—again—was beginning to run short and we had to start acting on our ideas. 

Rendar would use the now significantly shorter—from the repeated dipping into the acid—of the two spears to unhook the chain from the wall, keeping its tip lodged in the chain to aid in steadying the cage. (He would have used the maiden’s gloves, but Cypher had earlier dipped them in the acid and rendered them fingerless in order to test if they would protect us from the contact poison. Something clearly got lost in translation during this computation.)

The second, intact spear was placed through the bars in the center of the cage. Clarion and Kard both held an end of the spear, intent on using it to keep the cage from dropping into the pool. I took the maiden’s scarf and formed a “U” on the spear by knotting it on both ends. She was instructed to employ the base of the “U” as a seat and wrap her wrists with the scarf for extra support while she held onto the spear.   

The execution of the plan went relatively smoothly. The chain was cut, Kard and Clarion competently bore the weight of the cage, with Clarion barely moving. Cypher twisted and pushed the cage until it was slightly skewed and together they slowly dipped its bottom into the acid pool, dissolving all the metal it contacted. The cage was lifted out, turned towards the final platform where Cypher and I stood, and collectively we aiding the “Lady” out of the cage.

The princess, wrought with false emotions, relinquished herself into the arms of Cypher who carried her out of the room and I followed suit. Within moments the remainder of the party joined us and we discovered the "slain" Magnus in the hallway, still dripping with green "acid." We were victorious and, apart from Magnus, received two Shadow Coins apiece as a reward.  

The last room of our journey presented itself as the entrance to a fotress of giants. The walls brimming with supposed writings of giants had me giggling for they made absolutely no sense (though their maker had clearly understood Giant): “No pass no pass bad monkey?”; “Beware of the rockery!”; and “Slip and fall down carefully.” Deep down I hoped the ludicrous writings were intentional, but given the history of the low-elves running this game, perhaps mockery of the giants' language was intention—or else mere maleducation. A door larger than I’ve ever experienced towered at the opposing wall. Our goal was to simply walk through this door. 

At the room’s center was a 30’-deep and 10’-wide chasm. A brisk look down into this chasm revealed a carpet of oversized centipedes, millipedes, and other nasty arthropoda that would lead to our quick death should we come into contact with their bodies. Looking around, we discovered our side of the chasm contained five items: a 10-foot-long javelin, a 12-foot-long giant's greatsword, an everburning torch, an enormous 20-foot-long leash and collar evidently intended for a giant hound, and the carcass of a white bunny.

Using the greatsword as a bridge, Cypher made his way across the chasm to investigate the exit. After a few moments he indicated that the door was not magical, but it was locked. We would have to locate the key that fit into its oversized keyhole.

Looking around the room there was only one, obvious solution. The key must be someplace at the bottom of the pit. Clarion and Rendar were quick to point out that we should lower one of us into the pit using the leash. As the lightest of the group, I thought it best to volunteer for this task. I placed the collar around my chest and under my arms, held the everburning torch in one hand and the javelin with the rabbit secured at its tip in the other (as bait to lure the critters around if need be) and was slowly lowered down the side of the pit by Magnus and Clarion. The rabbit did not aid me as greatly as I had anticipated, as there were only slight changes in the density of these creatures as I maneuvered the javelin from left to right. With keen sight and a bit of luck, I spotted the key in the first corner I searched. I raised the javelin, unhooked the rabbit and tossed it into the opposite corner. The vile critters were easily lured by this temptation and swarmed to the carcass. Magnus and Clarion laid on the ground, their arms outstretched over the edge providing me with the extra few feet that facilitated the excavation of this key from its hiding place in a pocket of the pit’s wall. Straining as far as I could reach, I hooked the key with the point of the javelin, dragging both along the wall as Magnus and Clarion hoisted me and it out of the repugnant cavity. 

Like Cypher before, we employed the great sword as a bridge and made our way across the gap. The keyhole hovered high above. Utilizing the warforged as a ladder, I stood atop Cypher who stood atop Clarion, placed the massive key in the sizable keyhole and turned with all my might. The humongous door opened, revealing a series of familiar tents and lights at the end of a corridor. We had completed our journey and were about to return into the fresh night breeze of the carnival.

After receiving our Shadow Pieces I decided to quickly clean everyone. Appearing pristine to the crowd when we exited as victors would accentuate our competence. It was obvious to all that we had been exceedingly successful in our tasks as we were greeted with jubilant music and gracious cheers from the crowd and from the Phiarlan elves as we emerged from the tent, smiling and immaculate.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

#46 - Lightning and Falling Sand

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.


Everyone was quite rattled by their time in the chamber beside the gibbering beast. It seems that some of the party believed the vile fantasies we were shown by the last creature—the beast of too many eyes and mouths and wordless voices. We all sat and rested outside after the tent of horrors, which had lived up to its ghastly sales pitch. For some within, death would have been better. Cypher retreated into repairing himself and fussing with his metal dog, Kard needed to pray, and the elf woman pulled out a blue bauble and lost herself, staring into its depths. Her warforged friend, Clarion, produced unusual sounds and made ritualistic gestures. He is an odd one, and I say that as one who has traveled with Xoma.

We were in sight of some kind of brawling grounds that I had seen on the way into the tent. One of the elf-clowns had said that there were other Seren Islanders here, that I wasn’t the only one. It seems that the Serens were one of the events and brawling was involved.

Once recovered, we agreed to go see the brawl. A sandy mound was the terrain as we approached and saw two Serens stalking about in some kind of mock-fight. Dark skin and blue tattoos identified them as Stormwalkers from the far end of Seren; lightning and sand to my fire and force. He with braids and she with a top-knot. Why were they here? What news from Seren? The Bringers of Fire seldom interacted with Stormwalkers. There was but one way to find out.

Nearby stood an elf in mock tattoos who explained the rules: stay conscious for thirty seconds and win two shadow pieces, no magic, no killing. I would do more than stay conscious; I would win.

“No killing,” he said again as the Serens began to growl at me and threaten death for the sins of my tribe. Sins? Often do we make raid and war on the other tribes of Seren, the better to hone our skills of war for the coming trials, but surely this is no cause for offense. I would smash them with the wooden mace from the weapon rack and prove my worth. That is the Seren way.

The elf tipped his sand-glass and I fell into the inner dragon. We brawled. They were shouting about some horror committed by the Bringers of Fire, but I knew nothing about it. There was magic in the air three times—from my friends, perhaps, but also from the Stormwalker woman (a sand-conjured cloud of lightning)—before my opponents went down before me. This was a good mace.

As I staggered back from them, the elf accused me of cheating. He was a fool, I did not cheat. The male comes to himself and the elf confers with him. I was given only one shadow piece because my party intervened after the female used lightening magic, to me this seems fair.

 I spoke briefly with the Serens, explaining and asking about the evil happenings. They did not trust me, and must decide later what they are willing to share. They said they would speak with me tomorrow, before the hours of the carnival. The male would not give his name but the woman says she was Eshka. She was not his mate, and he didn't seem happy she had given her name.

The group celebrated my victory and Clarion made fitting music and bought sweets for the children. Aleae asked me whether her help was welcome or if she had overstepped. “Victory makes no excuses,” I told her, and “Thank you.” She may have great power, Xoma was thin like she and much could be expected of him. I hope she adventures well.

We were soon drawn to a large tent with many pictures painted upon it. This fun fair was most delightful. I was sure Xoma would have liked it as much as I did. Especially since the theme was all about his homeland, and offered many shadow pieces to earn. Adventurers and veterans seemed to be those coming and going from this place.

We saw again the lead elf from the gate, in the tall hat, long yellow cape, and the only one we've seen without makeup, and he bade us welcome.  The Xen'drik Challenge was a giant tent (bigger than many jungle trees)  where many different games offer victory or humiliation. We each paid five gold pieces and removed our armor and equipment to start the games. It felt good to go about with my tribal markings displayed, and fitting for such a wild place.

After stripping down and being reminded to drop all of our spells, we entered the tent. Each challenge was a sectioned-off room of wood or stone, with the ceiling open to the darkness of the tent and a series of walkways for the elves to observe and manage. We were told that for each challenge, if a hint was required to solve it, one participant was allowed to forfeit his shadow piece for the group's benefit.

Our first challenge was a room painted and magicked up to mimic a storm-tossed ship on a night sea voyage. It was done well, I have been at sea. We were to cross a pitching deck slick with false sea spray and salt water to earn our shadow coin. Cypher and Rendar made it across quickly, but the rest were humbled by a slippery fall. Kard really hates this stuff. He is wise and strong, but not particularly fast.

We were led to the next chamber, where we found a pit filled with foul swamp water ("and parasites") and a single vine to swing across. Alea was not built for this sort of jump—where strength is key. Kard again failed and surrendered to his gods, knowing he was not in control today. Down he plummeted into brackish water, where the elves declared him "dead." As we discussed ways of tossing Aleae across—Cypher suggested she cling to his back while he jumped—she surprised us and made the swing by herself after all. At times, one's agility can't compensate for lack of strength. Clarion also made the jump. Cypher fell—good thing he hadn't been carrying the elf—and I wondered if he minded the smell of the water. Rendar and I easily swooped across.

I am starting to collect a lot of these shadow pieces. I hope to get the "pouch of holding."  I hate lugging around all my stuff, especially all the food!

Our third challenge was much harder, had a time limit, and required a team effort. Good! A pit filled with snakes (they said were poisonous), two short 10-foot metal ladders, a bag, and a thick cord tied around the bag. I had no real solution to this puzzle. We did not seem permitted to climb the walls, and they were slippery. I helped Cypher open the bag to reveal a pair of boots.

Rendar put the boots on—with Cypher's close involvement—and it was revealed that they could make him float like Xoma used to with his levitation spells. I hopped on his back to test out the weight, but they could bear only one. We puzzled for a while, even as the sand in a wall-mounted hourglass tracked the dwindling time. Kard soon gave up his chance for a shadow piece and asked for a hint from the elves; he is a strange fellow, but generous with his things and talents. Quite welcome to our group, I believe.


The hint given by one of the unseen elves above was: "One of you must be a pillar in the bridge of ladders." With that, Aleae, Cypher, and Rendar devised a scheme, with help from Clarion.

He was always making things better with his music, which seemed to issue out of him not always as a "voice" but like an instrument. I am starting to wonder how loud he can be. I suspect we have seen only a small portion of his talents. The same wonder holds true for Aleae as well. Clarion looks like he has been battled-tested, but the elf with the strange eyes is, after all, quite thin. A single backswing from an ogre could probably take her down. But I suspect, like Xoma, she has magic in store and probably the invisible sort of mental strength I have seen in the shamans and dragonspeakers back home. There in the carnival's tent of challenges, were were not being attacked by real enemies. Strange how it was still fun despite not hitting anything with my bone mace.

Soon a bridge was constructed using Rendar as the linchpin between bound-together ladders, with the boots holding him upright. The half-orc strained to hold them together but he did well as we each climbed or ran across the ladders—and Rendar—using the boots to hold himself up. Aleae's confidence almost betrayed her as she slipped and nearly fell into the pit of snakes, but she recovered and soon we'd all climbed across. Just in time as the last grains of sand dropped. We were all rewarded a shadow piece, except for Kard.

The next challenge is a narrow canyon which must have been illusionary, because weren't we in a field outside of a small city? At the far end, an open portal and a flight of stairs was guarded over by a large lion-like creature with wings and the head of a woman.  The others told me it was a sphinx, famed for their ferocity, but more so for the riddles they ask. We would have to answer riddles—each riddle could only be answered by one person, and if they guessed correctly, they would be allowed to pass and receive a shadow piece. A single failed guess would result in the sphinx eating the guesser.

The riddles are great, some easy, some harder. Though only one guess could be given for each person, we were allowed to discuss the riddles, for those of us not eaten. We all are able to puzzle out answers and one by one we pass. Except Rendar and Cypher, who were each savaged by the sphinx. It was ghastly to see them so mauled, yet we knew it was an illusion. The blood sure looked real. For Cypher it was actually funny, because he doesn't have any blood, but blood showered down from the gore of the sphinx's "feast." Half-orc and warforged emerged unharmed but no richer.

I was happy to be in this festival. Our celebrations back home involve challenges of strength, also, but also dragon stories, fire, and much more real blood. But they don't involve cold white roses, glass bubbles, and friends falling into stinking water. Yes, this festival is fun. What will be the next challenge?




Thursday, November 7, 2013

#45 - Dancing Lights and Dancing Shadows

Journal of Clarion Tritone, Champion of Dol Arrah, Vassal of the Sovereign Host - Zarantyr 4th, 999 YK 


The last days of our travels before we were to arrive at Galethspyre were uneventful. Marching with Aleae brought back many memories from the Last War. This was the first time since reawakening in Rekkenmark (from where I traveled to Arcanix–the place I have since called my “home”) that I would march on foreign soil. As much as I am now an instrument of my beloved Dol Arrah and however much I work on myself to be a beacon of light for the Sovereign Host, I feel compelled to imagine how I may best reclaim former enemy territories or how I could develop defenses against their inevitable invasion. I struggle with this. At any moment I expected—and a small part of me even hoped—that I would hear the sound of the great drums or trumpets of war and I would find myself amongst my comrades crossing blades with the enemy. As much as I care for my esteemed Aundair, the armies I wish to vanquish today are no longer those of other nations, but the untold numbers of undead, fiends, demons and other aberrations that lurk beyond obvious sight, gorging their disgusting appetites on these lands.

The crowds filling the streets, as we entered Galethspyre, were equally refreshing and overwhelming to our senses, who had experienced relative tranquility for weeks. Arriving at the city center I happened upon a recent issue of the Korranberg Chronicle. In one of the stories, “SURVIVORS OF THE BOOKMARK MYSTERY OFFER MYSTIFYING CLUES,” one detail caught attention:

The airship itself has been confirmed by the survivors as the Sky Talon, a private vessel whose owner, an Aundairian noble named Reltran ir’Harran, was counted among the captives but may have been complicit in the cult’s activities. Ir’Harran, a member of the Arcane Congress, is now in custody but was described as being “in a state of great delusion” at the time of his arrest. When the healers have finished attending him, ir’Harran and the Korranberg’s Aundairian diplomats will be questioned by the Council of Nine.

Once I read the article I gave it over to Aleae, who had, up until then, been taking in the change of our environment. I could tell that she quickly understood the relevance of these events to our mission.
Aleae was still reading and I was surveying our surroundings as we were approached by a highly unusual group of adventurers. One of them, a warforged by the name of Cypher, appeared particularly curious about our appearance and asked whether he could examine my back which consists of an array of pipes that can expanded into a fan, that he appeared to never have seen before. I was not quite comfortable letting him do this before we were better acquainted. Magnus was most intriguing to me, for he bore draconic markings on his skin on his dermal layer. Bits of red-hued reptilian scales were even integrated into his skin in curiously invasive ways. I had not seen such detail in a human before.

My understanding of the positive effects nourishment has on heterotrophs easily led to me agreeing to continue our conversation at a local inn, the Golden Chalice.

Our conversations at the Golden Chalice were equally polite and cautious. The fact that we should find ourselves in the company of the very group of adventurers that had been, as we soon discovered, at the core of the events that were obviously responsible for the sudden departure of my dear friend Major Killian ir’Vanatar, was either a sign that these individuals had somehow acquired knowledge of our mission and this apparent chance meeting had been well orchestrated, or, the gods—in their most celestial wisdom—have skillfully interwoven our paths for a higher purpose. Either way, friends or foes, Aleae and I felt it best to keep an eye on them, either to learn that we are to join forces or to understand their place in these affairs and how best to thwart their interference.

The late arrival of Kard, a fellow Vassal of the Sovereign Host, eased some of my suspicions. Although this human male appeared to be harboring much turmoil and unrest, I concluded that he must have good in his heart if he is able to draw strength from their powers. He reminded me of Varen, a young sorcerer who had spent a few weeks with us at my post near the village of Arcanix. Over the course of the past year my post had grown into a small, ever-changing camp composed of many young travelers most of whom possessed skills in magic, the visual, and the aural arts. Varen, to me, clearly possessed the marks of a great hero. For months, he sought to study with the masters of magic in the Floating Towers above Arcanix, but with no success. Perhaps it was the deep sadness upon him—the origin of which he would never share—that pushed others away... Varen soon grew restless and left for the Eldeen Reaches seeking to study with the druids. Once I learned that Kard was from the wasted lands of Cyre his apparent pain, unrest, and somewhat unkempt appearance made sense. Kard struck me as somewhat of a larger version of Varen.

Cypher, a very unusual and rather small warforged, was the most talkative. Perhaps the most talkative of my kind I’ve ever encountered. He clearly possesses an inquisitive mind and professed that he has the skills of an artificer—an art for which I have long had the utmost respect. The unfortunate Karrn artificer who Killian paid to repair me after the war would probably disagree, as I initially attempted to add him to the ranks of their forsaken undead army once I awoke, believing to have found myself in enemy hands. But then again, most who stand on Karrnathi soil are unfortunate. Cypher gave a rather detailed description of what they endured on the airship ride that marked the beginning of their adventures and how they had dealt with their assailants. I would often encourage him to provide me with detailed descriptions of their tactical positions and maneuvers which he was all too happy to provide. A hero often shows his true stature when he describes the battles in which he fought. It became clear that Cypher has a most wondrous mind, for much of what he described seemed most unusual, yet it made me worry less about our new companions’ motives; if he was trying to intentionally mask the truth, he would not have fabricated such improbable courses of events.
From Arcanix to Galethspyre
(click to enlarge)


Aleae, this unusual elven creature from the plane of Thelanis—whose company I have enjoyed over the last few weeks on our travels through Aundairian then Brelish countryside—expressed her distrust for Myrcose, a traveler apparently temporarily accompanying the other adventurers, quite openly. I had to agree that the presence of his gnoll companion was rather unsettling, but I was not unhappy to meet a fellow Aundairian on—as a significant part of me still considered it—enemy territory. As it turned out, he had been to Arcanix recently and it sure seemed as if he was interested to learn more about all of us. He said that he was a collector of stories. Since I consider myself as much of an instrument of the gods as a collector of stories, I was intrigued to learn more. Unfortunately, we did not have the chance to speak much for I was mostly engaged listening to Cypher.

Most of us decided to explore the grounds of the Winter Festival together. Myrcose excused himself, explaining that he was travel weary. He seemed a bit too eager to discover when we would be leaving Galethspyre but maybe he just wished to meet us later.

We made our way to the festival grounds. One could not miss the spectacle of light and color that filled the air around the carnival and we headed towards the main entrance. We learned that we were very fortunate, for a House Phiarlan carnival was in attendance. Not just any but the Carnival of Shadows itself, the house’s most elite traveling entertainers—or spies and assassins if one believed the rumors. It was the 4th day of the seven-day Winter Festival, as they call it in Breland. In Aundair this would be called Wintertide, celebrating the beginning of a new year. None of the major events of the festival were happening that day—they were to come on the last two days of the celebrations.

Cypher was taken with the elven juggler who entertained those waiting in line at the Carnival’s entrance. He approached the elf and grabbed one of the balls, infused it with artificer’s light, and then returned it to the juggler. The juggler used the glowing ball for a moment, even bounced it off Cypher’s forehead before disappearing it from his hands and adding another to the count. I decided to enhance his performance by supplementing them with a set of glowing spheres.

Weapons were not allowed on the carnival grounds so we placed them in the care of the stern-looking dwarf who manned a House Kundarak security tent. I was able to retain possession of the Dragonhawk Banner for I had vowed to never let it out of my sight.

We were greeted by a very tall, imposing elf magician in a long, mustard-yellow coat and a tall top hat. He seemed to be very old, which meant that he must have seen many centuries—though he looked no older than forty by human standards—and greeted us all personally. He hinted to Magnus that other Seren Islanders had come to the Carnival before, and this news set the human’s eyes aglow. It appeared that it had been some time since he had last set eyes on one of his own countrymen.

The first thing we saw once we entered was a large booth displaying various prizes that could be purchased with “Shadow Pieces.” These coins can be acquired by successfully completing specific challenges on the carnival grounds. The sign above the booth labeled them as “The true currency of Khorvaire!” Prizes ranged from one shadow piece to as many as fifteen for exceptional prices such as a Pouch of Holding or a suite of shiftweave clothing. In addition, those who earned at least ten Shadow Coins would also be invited to “dinner” with the festival’s guest of honor: the King’s Protector, a warforged named Three who, as Cypher explained to me, was well known for his noble deeds, friendship to King Boranel, and was a fellow Vassal of Dol Arrah. Evidently a mystery guest from Boranel’s court would also in attendance. I became very interested in attending this meeting—though I suppose warforged would merely watch as others partook of sustenance. I have learned that many social interactions among non-warforged revolve around food.

As we were discussing where to go first, we found ourselves followed and imitated by a few performers. They mirrored our movements. Cypher commanded his Iron Defender chase around them in jest and we decided on our first station: the Strongman Contest.

Before we could reach it, we were halted by two performers—elf mimes of Phiarlan, as all the elves present seemed to be—as they enacted a silent battle of two spellcasting mages. I was inspired by the festive mood and began playing “The Eternal Struggle for the Fiery Chalice.” As a third mime appeared, he pretended to cast a spell upon me, to which I acted as if I had been hit, but was making a miraculous recovery. After a short triumph, the performer acted dismayed at the obvious ineffectiveness of his powers and we continued to make our way to the tall, narrow pyramid that was at the heart of the Strongman Contest.

“With the Might of Giants, We March” seemed an appropriate piece to play while at the Strongman Contest and Magnus, the first to attempt this challenge, seemed invigorated by it. As he hit the small platform at the bottom of the device which was the target of his blow the great shadow of a mighty troll appeared against the backdrop of the pyramid. Twice it appeared as a result of the barbarian’s strength. The crowd gasped with excitement. His blow did not reach the very top of the pyramid, yet it was still worth a shadow piece each. The elven master of ceremonies bruskly asked me to stop playing my music at this point as he was apparently aware of the magic that would sometimes weave itself into my play and could provide an unfair advantage. I understood and focused my attention on the mallet I would soon wield, which appeared to initially resist once grasped before my hands could hold it steady. Obviously the gods wished to use this opportunity to teach me humility and the only shadow image my two blows would conjure up were tiny goblins, which were laughing at me—along with a crowd that had obviously not expected this outcome. I joined in with a set of sounds and body language that I had learned could mimic heterotrophs’ expression of laughter well and thanked the gods for their lesson. All of us tried the challenge, yet only Cypher was able to land another glorious hit, and as a Brelish warforged he was sure to receive the favor of the crowd in response to which he exclaimed “For Breland!” The crowd was cheering uncontrollably and I doubt anyone noticed how I involuntarily twitched, looking to grasp for the sword I placed in House Kundarak’s care and readying myself to meet this challenge. Breland and Aundair were at times allies, and at times enemies, during the Last War. Most do not forget this.
While exploring our options for the next contest a group of children in warforged costumes ran past us. I have always enjoyed the company of the young who are so often surprised to hear that I have lived fewer years than they have. When we came across a vendor of treats I purchased thirty “sweetcicles”—frozen icicles of flavorful water—and distributed them amongst the children. Aleae was so kind as to keep them cold with her magic until they had all been claimed.

The Mark of Making
A few of the children we came across bore vivid paintings of dragonmarks on their skin. Cypher became very intrigued and wished to bear the Mark of Making across the right side of his face. I hold the depictions of countless quests and accomplishments of great heroes and battles upon my composite plating, so I understand the appeal. I did not wish for a dragonmark symbol myself for I did not wish for Dol Arrah to read this as an act of pretense and hold me in disfavor.

For a moment I wondered if my senses were tricked for there she was: Aundair’s sweet Queen Aurala! Her blond hair and flowing gown were dancing in the wind and she came walking down a path between the tents. What was she doing here? Where were her servants and, more importantly, her bodyguards? Before I could step forward to offer my services though, I realized that it was merely another elven entertainer imitating our beloved and formidable queen. She was quickly joined by three more entertainers representing the royal leaders of the other nations and they engaged in mock combat. I probably stared at the scowling and brooding elf representing King Kaius III of Karrn for an uncomfortably long time, but I could not stop wondering what blows would most easily place an end to his wretched existence.

The Shot in the Dark challenge proved exceptionally difficult and none of us succeeded.
Cypher and Grapnel almost hit the target but it still missed the small moving target in the distance.
The air around us became filled with a set of magical crystal bubbles, created by an elven woman, Cypher’s immediate investigation discovered that they would shatter into harmless shards once touched.

To our great surprise Kard and I overheard kids talk about the infamous Six Stones game. I had heard of this: it is a horrible game for desperate souls played by the wicked in the monstrous realm of Droaam. Seven players hope to evade the glare of a basilisk or the touch of a cockatrice so that they may be the one staring upon the statues of their rivals. Obviously the gods must have wished for us to investigate.

What we discovered was somewhat of a relief, for it was indeed a harmless recreation of the game for the amusement of children involving an enchanted chicken and a few minor spells to give the children the illusion of being incapacitated.

It was here that I took much closer note of Grapnel and Rendar, the other enormous, very tortured-seeming warforged and the somewhat noble-seeming half-orc in our group. Grapnel had previously struck me as unusually confused by the most simple concepts and I could not help but wonder whether he had, just like me once, been only recently awakened after having fallen in the Last War. He was from Karrnath, and it is well known that our kind are treated poorly there.

Something about the game seemed to stir Grapnel’s mind and he appeared confused as to why these children would engage in such an activity. Cypher, who acted as sort of guide to the less fortunate warforged, explained to him how children use such experiences for growth. As the subject quickly switched to childhood as a weakness and the obvious superiority of warforged, Render somewhat tersely stepped in to assure Cypher that childhood could not be seen as a weakness and pointed out the faults in the warforged thinking. I preferred to stay out of this conversation.

It was then that I became aware of a small vessel passing us overhead which I indicated to Aleae, who responds with a series of—for her uncharacteristically rude sounding—crackling noises. From our past discussions of how we would make our journey south I could only assume that she was expressing her disgust for the use of elementals for these machines in one of the many exotic languages she was able to speak.

We carried on to the next challenge which was to test our cunning in battle and as it turned out tested our humility and sense of humor as well. In a small arena a halfling, obviously a great warrior from the Talenta Plains, was sitting astride a clawfoot dinosaur mount where he was swinging his weapon—a sharash—looking for a challenger to withstand the combined attacks of him and his mount for thirty seconds. To not fall to the ground, while not being able to fight back.
Aleae felt intrigued by this task and her assessment that her fey cunning would serve her well in this arena was true and she was able to withstand the ferocious attacks the longest out of us all. If she had been able to use her magic—it took great convincing for her to accept that this would not be permissible—I am sure the thirty seconds would have passed without the clawfoot or its rider ever knowing where she had set foot on the ground. She opened her valiant fight with a great battle cry in the Draconic tongue to intimidate her opponent; to great effect, it prompted all of our heroes except for Grapnel to begin the battle with a cry of battle. She skillfully danced her way around the onslaught of the clawfoot’s tail and the rider’s war scythe. In round three she produced a sack of flour, the contents of which she blew in the direction of her attackers, which momentarily incapacitated the clawfoot and stirred the anger of the halfling. She withstood his first attack but in round 4, the halfling once rejoined by his companion, her legs gave way to the clawfoot’s sweeping tail and she gracefully landed flat on the ground.

I volunteered next to test my abilities at this rider from the Talenta Plains and once he cleaned the flour from his cherished steed’s face we were measuring each other from opposite ends of the arena. Knowing that his skillful attacks would not be endured easily I sought to garner strength and intimidate my opponents with a mighty battle cry. I extended the instruments on my back to their full size and accompanied by the play of a thunderous, deep accord I prompted them prepare to see me withstand their attacks in the tongue of dragons. It seemed to work, mount and rider where were both hesitating. A little proud of myself, yet for a moment distracted by thoughts of whether the halfling was lonely so far from his people, Dol Arrah was wise to show me that such pride often comes before the fall, which followed immediately after the halfling had regained his confidence and unhinged my legs from the ground. Our companions all attempted the challenge, but all failed swiftly.

Cypher spent a while convincing Grapnel that he should attempt his luck at the challenge and it took a great deal to convince him that it was not appropriate to fight back in any way. The speed with which this giant warforged was felled to the ground by the first swoosh of the halfling’s sharash was surprising and might have caused him to doubt the wisdom in Cypher’s words.

While none of us had been victorious against the halfling on his clawfoot we were in good spirits and had attracted a small following of carnival-goers that apparently enjoyed our company or felt that we were at least entertaining to watch. As we marched to find our next challenge I played “The Dance of the Twelve Dragons,” a joyous tune in twelve verses. Cypher set an item in his hand aglow, raising it high as he was leading the way and I created an image of light in the form of a small child running ahead of our group.
We happened upon an elven lady, clad in garb that evoked images of a red dragon. She seemed to make a deep impression on Magnus who was clearly partial towards the likeness of dragons, especially red. She would spew fire in various shapes and directions. Unimpressed, Aleae pointed out that that this lady’s creations were “cute” yet nothing special, and that Aleae herself could do much better in her sleep if she ever decided to have any.

A vendor passed us by selling a special kind of flower that would only last this night—a winter rose. Its purpose was seemingly to create stronger bond between lovers. The flowers sparkled most unusual white bluish and seemed almost crystalline. He said that they had been “cultivated by elementalists of Sharn” and that their creation was only possible since the Plane of Ice, Risia, was coterminous with Eberron. Aleae and Cypher both immediately bought one, presumably to learn more about them. Magnus decided to buy quite a few of the flowers, and stuck them in his backpack. Cypher noticed how Aleae would study the flower in her hand and asked whether she was seeing anything interesting, to which she responded with a casual, slightly bored or absent-minded yet not unfriendly “Yes.” They left it at that.

Magnus became restless once he made out what he believed to be a pair of warriors from the Seren Islands, his homeland, as they appeared to be setting up a challenge. As eager as he seemed to draw closer to them he agreed to accompany us into another attraction that promised the possibility of more shadow pieces: the Arbor of Abominations which stood right before us in the form of a large, dark tent. An elf wearing a skull-like visage—reminding me uncomfortably of the bone knights of Karrnath—was warning all passersby of the terrible horrors that would await them should they dare to step inside. "Beware!” he called out. “What lies within none of you can tolerate. You, sir! Turn away! You must not enter a place so vile! You, miss! Look not here, lest your delicate constitution render you helpless upon the floor! We cannot be responsible for the visceral storm that would surely ensue within you should you cast your eyes on the monsters that lurk within this den of disfigurement, this gallery of the grotesque. The Mockery himself has not the stomach for it!”

The elf promised a shadow piece to anyone who could withstand the terrors that would await them in the final room of the exhibition.

As we entered we were met by another, darkly cowled elf who introduced himself as Lovis, Curator of the Damned, who said that he would be our guide through the exhibits. I spoke a short prayer and asked Dol Arrah for her favor to open my senses to the divine so that I might discover whether we were to behold a series of mere illusions or whether there were true aberrations present. I detected a slight erratic flicker of signals, something dark definitely appeared present, but I could not make any real sense of my impressions.

The dreaded Mordain
the Flesh Weaver
The first lost soul we were introduced to was referred to as Master X. Our guide explained that he had once studied with Mordain the Fleshweaver, an infamous wizard of House Phiarlan (and of the Twelve) who had at some point in time left for the Shadow Marshes where he surrendered his life to the powers of Xoriat and established a domain of madness. Master X had supposedly seen the error in his ways and escaped the clutches of his master, yet he had paid a dear price: his identity. At first there was not much unusual about the figure before us except for a mask it was holding in front of his face. Once Master X dropped his mask there was no face in its place, all that could be seen was a smooth, otherworldly nothingness. The same was true for his arm which he now revealed from under his cloak. Cypher examined it closely and said that he believed that he had somehow seen himself as a reflection in the flesh-toned nothingness.

It appeared as if the situation had strung a strange note with Aleae for she decided to temporarily redecorate the mask that Master X wore with a more joyous motif, a depiction that included very thick lipstick and makeup. She did not seem to do this out of mockery or mischief. I believe that she felt that it would make us all feel better about the situation, including Master X.

As we entered the next room the sign read “The Man in Marble.” The sign was very literal for in front of us stood a warrior who, if it was not for the fact that he began to move and address us, could have been a beautiful marble statue. Our guide explained that it was unknown how this man had been turned to living stone. They were speculating whether the Medusa Queen Sheshka herself had created him or whether the circumstances of his state were related to the continent of Xen’drik. Whether the secrets to his existence were hidden in ancient texts of the giants, related to the texts that had carried the knowledge that had lead to the creation of the warforged.

Aleae was most intrigued, as she often would when the subject turned to elementals or other primordial beings. She quickly erupted into a series of sounds similar to what I had heard earlier when she became aware of the airship above us, which rung most unnatural coming from a creature so fair and it could only mean that she was now speaking in one of the languages of the elements. The man of stone obviously understood her and responded with very similar sounds. This most unusual exchange lasted for about a minute after which I heard Aleae’s voice in my head, telling me that this man had once been a real man but did not know when and how he was changed to stone and that he might be held in captivity here and that there was a possibility that we would have to set him free. I began assessing our tactical position and was preparing to explain to Aleae how I saw absolutely no chance that we could succeed at setting this man free but that I would be happy to perish trying if our mission was just. When she spoke again in my mind, saying that the man believed that the House of the Hydra could provide him with the answers he was looking for and that we should just let him be and move on.

We were next introduced to the Twice-Marked Woman, a refined, yet slightly haunted looking young human who bore both the Mark of Passage and the Mark of Sentinel. Certainly this was an anomaly. Lovis said that she was the only one of her kind. Great wars had been fought over aberrant dragonmarks, marks that occurred when members of separate dragonmarked houses had offspring together so the sight of this woman had to be very troubling to those who feared or cared about aberrant marks. While I had heard of this I did not understand their greater significance or why they seemed the cause of such fear. Cypher asked her whether she possessed the powers associated with both marks in response to which she disappeared and reappeared standing behind us—teleportation is a signature power of the Mark of Passage.

“The Mourning Twins” were possibly the most haunting sight, except maybe for what was yet awaiting us in the last room. An unusually-shaped, hooded figure sat before us. Lovis explained: “The only survivor of the Mourning. Two brothers, one whose sacrifice allowed the other to linger and grow strong again. One of the twins had used his powers to keep the other alive.” Once the figure lifted the hood we discovered at what price he had done so. The two were partially merged with one another. One was able to speak yet the other twin, its head sticking out from the shoulder of the more fortunate twin was motion- and expressionless. Kard was exceptionally curious to hear from this “survivor” of the unnatural destruction of his homeland. In response they—or perhaps he, I could not be sure—inquired as to whether Kard had any theories regarding who was responsible for the Mourning and an obviously emotionally-moved Kard replied that he indeed had theories but felt like it was inappropriate to speak of them at this point. Based on the reactions of those who passed by the twins he said that they had made a list of the likely culprits themselves. Kard wished to hear who was on this list but they replied that they could not share it with him now, that he should return the next day to see them and that they would provide him with their list. Kard appeared to have every intention to return the next day.

The next unhappy soul we were to see was “The Unobservable Man.” According to our guide’s description he was a harmless creature that had crawled out of a chasm to Khyber. His form, though, was so hideous when he emerged from the depth that sorcerers cast a spell of permanent invisibility on him for his own sake and that of everyone who might behold his unspeakably horrific shape. Aleae’s curiosity took the best of her and she decided to cast a series of harmless sparks around him to discover his shape and learn more about his nature. Unearthly shrieking filled our ears and stomps made it clear that who or whatever we were in the presence of did not appreciate Aleae’s gesture. For a moment we were not sure if this was the beginning of a battle, but the growls and grunts abated shortly. Our guide calmly but sternly requested that we should abstain from provoking, as he referred to them, “the acts.”

We were now lead into a larger room, and it appeared as if we might have reached the final station of our journey through this house of unhappy souls. What we saw was a giant glass tank of sorts filled with what can only be described as a giant, ever-changing chaotic ooze. Tentacles, mouths, eyes, anything would appear and disappear in this intangible shape. The sign bore the befitting title: “Madness Cubed.”


Lovis informed us that we were looking at a most incredible creature that had ever emerged from the darkest depth of Khyber via the Black Pit, a chasm in the northern parts of Breland. Luckily, he said, it was captured immediately as it arose for it would have surely consumed the world if it had been allowed to roam freely. There was a small, closed glass vestibule attached to the glass tank. We were told that this was where we could, if we so dared, enter and attempt to withstand the sound of the gibbering creature….to receive a shadow coin. Cypher entered first, together with Rungo. We were instructed to brace ourselves and for those who had them, to hold our ears whenever the door would open. Once the door to the room shut behind Cypher we saw him crumble under an invisible force. He first leaned against the far wall and then fell to the ground. It took him a moment before he was able to muster enough strength to get up and leave the room. He did not speak and was obviously in great distress. This appeared to intrigue Aleae who now stepped up and entered the room. She was also incapable of withstanding the unseen onslaught and could not help but scream. I tried to help steady her as she made her way out of the room, seemingly a broken woman, but she refused to let anyone near her.

As I attempted to console Aleae, Kard stepped into the room and stood there, strong, barely moving. He cringed only slightly, but whatever had befallen the others did not seem to break his spirit. This gave me great confidence that I would carry the same strength in me that had given my fellow Vassal his resolve. 

A handsome gibbering mouther!
I was wrong, so wrong, I was brought to my knees. Dol Arrah must have foreseen a different lesson for me. I was overcome with negative emotions and would hear the most horrible sounds screaming and howling at me in otherworldly languages. I felt as if all my beliefs were ripped from me, all things I had come to accept as certainties were fading away and were replaced with the most unspeakable of ideas. I saw my comrades in the war dying all around me, all my dear friends, all of those I had lead to battle as Sergeant in the Aundairian Army. And it was all my fault: I had lead them to their death. I was responsible for them, and Killian, my dear friend Killian, he had betrayed us all. He had sold us out to Karrnath, had lead us all into a trap. And Dol Arrah, she cared for no one, she just cared about herself and making us all suffer, she had an unknown mighty allegiance with the Dark Six or even the realm of Xoriat itself. Even Mother would have rather had me destroyed, and rightfully so, it had all been my fault, I was the source of all evil. I knew nothing anymore and did not know how I would awake from these visions.

Somehow I managed to step from the horrible gibbering and the dark thoughts, but it would take time for the thoughts and memories to melt away.