#76 - Cold Prophecy (Part 2)

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

Storrgrimm kept swinging his axe and telling me that I was not worthy to wield Haurach, the great bone-maul. I was smashing away at his legs with my old Seren mace but I just couldn't land a real blow. His wolf kept after Clarion and I both and we were all getting worn down. Clarion kept taking immense amounts of damage, but his hewed-up armored body seemed to keep going. The snow around me with spattered with my blood, flowing from slashes. Each cut would have taken off a limb if I wasn't as fast as I was. But through my rage I still felt cool, and the pain was minimal.

Eventually with another swing of that mighty axe, the frost giant sent Clarion crashing into the snow. I can never tell at first if a warforged is actually dead or just—as Cypher calls it—"disabled."

At the same time, something seemed to happen to Aleae, as if the fey (Faye?) had taken her away in some way. She had the Wand of Wonder in her hand but she seemed to flicker in and out as if she wasn't really there with us. She managed to focus herself enough to revive Clarion with a spell, and she used her wand to conjure a torrential downpour on all of us. Not useful in any way, but that is what she did.

Simel was holding his own against the wyvern and the air elemental, which was attacking both Simel and the wyvern. The fighter somehow managed to bend his rapier when he thrust it hard against the ground and at a bad angle. (I think I would rather use my fists than a rapier...)

Surprisingly, both foes gave up and flew away. The wyvern was badly wounded by arrow and blade, and without the witch to lead them both, they just lost interest. Lucky for us they did flee, because Simel was bleeding pretty well now, too.

Storgrimm landed a shot that knocked me flat. Another chop from the axe would have cut me in two, but I awoke mere seconds later when Clarion, still badly compromised, had used a healing spell to revive me. Storgrimm seemed happy to have me back in the fight. If he weren't nearly twenty feet tall and clearly preferred colder climates, he could have been a Bringer of Fire like me. His anger, his lust for battle, and his desire for a foe worthy of challenge was admirable. But he still needed to die, so we fought on!

Clarion stood up. Storrgrim snarled at him and hacked him back down with two swipes of his axe. Once more the warforged crashed into the snow and lay still. At one point Simel called out to me, shouting his encouragement, and it reminded me that I was not here alone despite the power of my foe.

I dodged around the giant and drank what healing draughts I carried, buying a few precious seconds. If I was to be slain this day, I would prolong it. Red dragons and their heirs last. The potions did make me feel better and I chose to slow down a bit. It was time to make my blows count and to stop being so reckless.

Simel started loosing arrows at Storgrimm and the giant blocked a few with his shield. With that distraction, I finally landed a good shot as he overreached and he leaned down within my reach. I swept my mace straight across his face, breaking teeth and filling his mouth with blood. His smile disappeared. The winter wolf instantly went over and attacked Simel, breathing out a blast of frost like a small white dragon.

A few more swings between Storgrim and I passed. I was almost done. I was bleeding badly and staggering around light-headed.  Suddenly, I saw an opening and got a great overhand shot direct to his chest.

He looked startled. He said, “You surprise me, Seren,” and his eyes lost all semblance of the life and vigor of battle. His wounds vanished even as his body reverted into icy mist, reminding me that he was somehow more spirit than giant. Even the winter wolf dissolved into mist again. As the fog rolled back in, I could see the bone mace lodged in the snowy ground in front of me. I yelled out that Clarion was down and needed healing. Simel limped over and poured a potion into whatever passed for the warforged's throat, waking him up. Clarion, of course, set to healing us as well.

I picked up Harauch again. This time I could feel it. I had earned the ability to not only carry it but to wield it. Storgrimm was there in the mace, a grudging ally who would be observing me. Was it his ghost, or just an echo of his spirit? I could sense that he was unfettered by time. He had been a chieftain in his time thousands of years ago...and so this weapon was just as old.

I now had his permission to use the mace, but its full power would come as his opinion of me improved. The more I seek out the enemies of Vensheratryx and his rakshasa servant, Avashad (the Defiler), and work to resurrect the Winter Coalition, the more powerful the mace would become. I don’t know if the images in my mind are promises of things to come or of things the mace had already done. At one point, it felt as though I was Storgrimm in another time, or one of the others who carried Harauch. I knew that with time and commitment, I could awaken deeper powers within this artifact. I could summon the winter wolf, Warlazz, and conjure storms of ice. I might even be able to invoke Storrgrim incarnate. I need more time and some advice to understand this new tool. I wonder what Cypher will think of it.

Luckily, Cypher, Kard, and Dar soon arrived as the four of us were standing around in shock and looking for our horses. On their way here, they had seen the fleeing wyvern. Cypher had blasted it with a magic missile, and Dar used some crazy moon magic to knock it out of the sky. It crashed to the ground, slain at last.

Everybody was patched up into a fighting state and the site was explored. I was spent. I wanted to get back to the Royal Bear Inn and rest and talk to my companions about what had happened here.  They agreed and we want back to Wroat, talking the entire way.

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

In the wake of Magnus's battle with the "entity"—a frost giant, truly?—of his intriguing and re-awakened weapon, there was still the matter of the wyvern-riding sorceress which presented a minor mystery to us. She had been slain by Aleae, not with a spell of her own but from, as I understand it, a curious discharge of gemstones. [Annotation: The Wand of Wonder is indeed just that, a great wonder. If only Aleae could spare the Wand for a few years to allow me to study it.]

We knew that the air elemental-conjuring sorceress was in league with Drazul, for we had fought with her outside of the Dragonwood. But how had she found us? Wroat is no small community, and to have eyes on every gate is highly impractical.

Kard, however, had the means to extract some answers. Using a clerical spell of necromancy, he forced the dead wyvern-riding sorceress to answer five specific questions.

We learned that her name was Unatiss and she was a mercenary or bounty hunter allying with our enemies for the gold it would earn. She claimed to not know the names of others who are hunting us. When asked how she would have proved to collect the bounty placed on our heads by Governor Trazzen ever since our time in Droaam, she answered: "I would bring the heads of Rendar d'Tharashk and Magnus to Glyphstone Keep." This further proved that our enemies—or some of them—reside in that ruin.

Three, the King's Protector

I was curious to notice the omission of my name from the bounty hunter's re-animated lips. Was this another example of latent warforged racism, indicating that my corporeal dome is not worth as much as that of a human's or half-orc's? Does not my ghulra not uniquely identify me, as the face of a flesh-and-bone creature can identify him? Was my involvement in this plot even known to Governor Trazzen?  Perhaps this could be used to our advantage, seeing as I am the one in possession of the Emporer's Key and the schema from the body of Claviger.

Upon our return to the capital city of Wroat we were informed that Three had returned and we were summoned to the Citadel for our debriefing. After asking for our trust in Dar, Kard, and Simel, he met with all of us. Three confirmed for us that appropriate emissaries of the crown would be sent to meet with Sorethyress as she had instructed us. The King's Protector also said that he had sent a missive to King Boranel himself on our behalf to make him aware of us and our actions. I informed my companions of the great honor we have had to serve the King, although Kard didn't seem as interested in the honor. I was happy to have served the crown in such a satisfactory manner.

Three informed us of some other events that had been occupying his time. There have been strange occurrences in the region. No one of these, he said, were so concerning, but all of them together are.

In addition to an unusual number of wyverns spotted in and around the Bear's Wood, reports of strange winged beasts have been coming in around outlying farms. There were attacks mostly on cattle. The winged creature or creatures are reported to breath fire (based on the scorch marks or charred remains), fight with their claws and bite, and they tear apart their prey, but they are decidedly too small to be dragons. Of the many cattle that are killed, only some are eaten, which seems to have confounded the agents of the Citadel, for most creatures large or numerous enough to kill livestock do so for food.

In addition, unnatural phenomenon—that Three did not describe—have also been reported in the King's Forest by the Knight Rangers. The Knight Rangers, I have learned, patrol the borders of that forest to counter the actions of poachers and bandits and work to keep dangerous monsters from venturing out to endanger the Brelish people.

Three said that the Citadel is sending an envoy deeper into the wood to take counsel with the Shadows of the Forest. This is evidently a rare occurrence. Dar told Three that she was affiliated with the Shadows, the quasi-legal force of druids active deeper inside the King's Forest where even the Knight Rangers do not go. Three surprised her by indicating that he knew something of her history. The necessity of Dar acquiring identification papers in this city will have had something to do with that.

Three then mentioned that Princess Haydith, Karnathi royal and sister to King Kaius III who resides in King Boranel's court as part of the foreign exchange of royals, has also gone missing. However, he abruptly moved on from that topic to talk about the recent theft at the Wroat Exchequer's office. Later, Aleae speculated that Three may have told us about the princess accidentally, although I find it hard to believe such a noble warforged would make such a mistake.

We told Three about our recent inquisitive work on behalf of the crown, such as our encounter with Lord Szen and how that led us to the forger Sylvander. I told Three everything about the last week, including the fact that we made a deal with the Sivis excoriate in order to secure a map of the secret meeting place of the Blue Wraith at Glyphstone Keep. Three asked me why we would not bring a criminal directly to the Citadel, and instead hand one over to the impartial Carnival, but I assured him it was for the greater good of Breland. His reaction and opinion of this response was unclear.

Based on our own intelligence, Three then made a request of us. He asked if we would investigate Glyphstone Keep, for unsubstantiated rumors and signs have been reaching him regarding that old ruin and he wished to either (1) dismiss them or (2) confirm that there is something there worth considering. What we learned from Sylvander regarding a conspiracy against the King was still only secondhand information, but if valid, worth investigating. If evil druids, the Order of the Emerald Claw, or any other agencies bent on regicide are conspiring there, then as First Sergeant of the Brelish Engineers Brigade, I would see them removed.

Three informed us that gargoyles had also been sighted perched or flying around the spires of the keep. I waited for Kard to share with Three about the encounters with gargoyles on the open plains of Breland, but instead Magnus told the story. None of the other recent events—the wyverns, the unknown winged, fire-spewing beast, the missing princess—pointed directly to Glyphstone, and therefore Three cannot actively counsel King Boranel accordingly. If, however, we were to discover a true threat there, he would have the evidence he needs to take military or governmental action.

Glyphstone, he explained to us, is considered something of a memorial to the descendants of Dhakaani. And in fact recently a small encampment of goblins has been seen growing around the base of the keep. Some came from Wroat, but most were migrants from Darguun. So far they have made no attempt to enter the ruin and they have broken no laws, so again, the Citadel is hesitant to take any action.

Of course, we immediately agreed to go to Glyphstone Keep. We had already resolved to do so for purposes of our own. Before he parted company with us, Rendar told us he knew with certainty—through the mystical connection he had to his dragonmark—that Governor Trazzen resided there now. Kard, too, had come seeking our help in entering the place.

But because for Three the troubles concerning Glyphstone Keep were only a matter of speculation thus far, we would not be working as inquisitives for the Citadel. Rather, we would be doing so as a favor to him.

Three waited for us to agree, and then told us he would like us to speak with the Darguun diplomat Irakas. She is a hobgoblin and a dirge singer (a bard among Darguun culture), and we had met her before on the same day when we first met Three. She and her companions had been especially interested in the Emperor's Key then, but we had managed to avoid concluding potentially hazardous discussions with her. She had come to Three as a delegate of Darguun seeking permission to enter Glyphstone Keep, where the Brelish government does not allow trespass. Most importantly, Three said that Irakas would know more about Glyphstone Keep and its history than anyone.

Now that I have had a chance to brew potions for the party and enhance Rungo's abilities, I am eager to travel to this ancient fortress on behalf of my country. But yes, we must first gather information.

#75 - Cold Prophecy (Part 1)

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

The letter from Lord Syraen was more than I had thought possible. Firstly, it sounded like he would hold me to my promise of an unknown service in the future. I fully intend to serve him as we agreed, but in my heart I know that I will never commit an act that aids the Defiler or the forces of darkness. I will die first.  I can only hope that the elf mage has the same foes as I. In that way, my service to him would be a joy. He suggests that he has knowledge of the Winter Coalition and that I should seek him out for information.

Even more, Lord Syraen suggested that the mace I now hold (Named Haurach, meaning  “fate” or “Defilers Dread”) is wrapped up in the destiny of the land. Somehow, the Dragons and the greater forces of the world have interest and history with this weapon. In ways I cannot understand, the maul is intelligent and has some ideas of how to fight the forces of darkness. Some spirit inhabits it, Storrgrim, it is named. It was meant for great beings to use in the secret conflict raging for the fate of the world. How did that bugbear in Droam get his hands on it? Did he ever attune to it? Was he the one chosen to wield it?  He did not seem the pinion of destiny as he died.

Re-reading the letter, this maul is tied to the Winter Coalition and we have often thought that somehow our party (whoever its members?) had a connection to the re-emergence of the Winter Coalition. As Lord Syraen suggests, the paths of prophecy are involved. Somehow, if I am able to wield this weapon, something will change (in me?  in the world around me?) that will aid in the reformation of the Winter Coalition. How would that happen? How would I know what to do? Would I become so different that I am alone and must leave the party? Would we all go the way of Rendar, called to higher purpose? Is this the gateway I have been seeking that will lead me to aid Lucerix in the rescue of Seren?  How could a white dragon bone that draws power from cold help the Bringers of Fire?

I laid awake in the comfortable bed at the Royal Bear. Hours passed and the moons moved overhead as I tried to understand and as I considered the fateful day ahead of me. In the end, the down pillows, soft blankets, and thick mattress won out over my disquiet. I slept.

Morning came and we met for breakfast in the common room. As Lady Amaryllis had predicted, heavy snow was falling in the usually warm city of Wroat, more evidence that the fates are involved in our lives. Kard was still busy with his healing hand and temple duties, so he would not accompany me. I hoped I wouldn't fall and need his curing. Dar had sought the wooded parks to consider her own fate. I would have liked her to come with me, but she is new to us and our fates may not be bound.

Cypher was caught up in his refashioning of Rungo in the workshops of House Cannith. I was upset by this. All along I have relied on Cypher to help me understand what was happening to us. He alone of our group was with me when this all began in the gnome city in Zilargo. Even my dwarven friend Doongul, the first companion I had made when I arrived on the continent (the Land of Demons), was no longer with me. The dark elf Xoma had left us mysteriously. The shifter Cyzicus returned to his homeland. And Rendar's path was no longer ours. Cypher, at least, was still with me, and he remembered who our real enemies were. What if this mace required knowledge or understanding of prophecies? What if I could not answer the call? Without Cypher I feel afraid of my own lack of knowledge. I trust that somehow, this is all as it was meant to be.

Clarion would come with me, however, as will the flighty and fey Aleae, and I am glad of their help. I feel that they have an interest in all of this and that they have a great part to play.

Clarion is a warrior, forged for music and war in the land of Aundair, but he also serves the goddess Dol Arrah. I know little of this goddess but they say she is sometimes depicted as a red dragon: So I know his purpose must be true. He heals with music and a cold metal touch and his shield is strong!

And Aleae, whose full name no one can pronounce but Aleae (except maybe Cypher), comes from another world altogether, a world of faerie stories like those the elders used to tell us. But those faeries are real now and  one of them is my companion and she sprouts wings and throws spells as mighty as any Seren shaman's. Enemies and owlbears beware!

A glimpse of Thelanis, the Faerie Court
(aka the Feywild)

The bowman, Simel, said he would also join me. His reasons are his own, but we have reason to believe that some of our enemies are his as well. Perhaps that will become clearer with time. More importantly, Simel has shown himself to be a resourceful ally in a fight. Though, he brought only a crooked shepherd's staff—where were his weapons? I trust the prophecies will show me the way.

We rode the horses out of town with Clarion running along tirelessly. Warforged continued to amaze me. I often wonder what the dragonspeakers back home would say of them. They are artificial beings, that is clear. Some of the elders would probably dismiss them as mere animated toys, but not all of them. Perhaps is has been the Dragons' design all along that the warforged be created in this modern time now that they are are needed? Lucerix would know.

Some ways out from the city, amidst the snow fall, Clarion and Aleae started to magic-message us that we were being followed. Far at the edges of perception, they heard something. Maybe wings. Yes, some of our enemies have been winged. But then so have some of our friends. I wondered briefly if the pseudodragon Matheu would reappear, as dragons do at times. In time, a building sense of purpose started to flow through me. I could feel the mace calling me. I began to search for a place to do that which I was summoned to do. A clearing at the forest's edge presented itself, an old campsite strewn with some boulders and lone trees. This would be the place.

We hobbled the horses a few dozen feet away and I asked the others to take cover, for I was about to start the ritual and I knew not what will come.  Clarion preferred to present himself to whatever the mace brought. I am thankful for the support of my friends and their willingness to stand by me in the face of unknown powers.

With that in mind, I cast the mace to the ground and say the name of the entity that inhabits it: “STORRGRIM!”

Immediately, icy clouds billowed from the mace, frozen air blustered about us and I could see neither my allies nor the mace. I step forward into the cold fog (was I supposed to? would this ruin it?), and I could not see the mace, but I did see some giant boots. As the fog began to clear I can see a twenty-foot frost giant. He was haggard, with a long white beard and a huge horned helm. He bore a mighty AXE.  He looked like a giant icy Seren. Unless I am mistaken, we were to fight.

He looked about with cold blue eyes and was not impressed. In a deep rumbling voice he asked me a question, but not in any language I knew. He repeated it with disgust, now speaking an a harshly accented Draconic. "Who are you?"

I answered, but he said, “You cannot be worthy. You are pitiful and small and have not the bearing of a conqueror.”

I shout, “I am MAGNUS of Seren Isle!  I have yet to be killed! Many have come before me and all have fallen beneath me!”

He returned with “Never has a wretched human successfully wielded Harauch.” He raised his axe, and twice offered me the chance to escape with my life by walking away. Doing that would be failure. Instead I charged him, running between his legs and smashing at him with my old jungle mace. He scoffed and swung his axe. I heard the snarl of a great white wolf as well. Battle was joined! Purpose! Swinging weapons! The promise of bloodshed! Whatever the outcome, this would be a wonderful memory for me. Even if I am slain.

Vaguely I became aware that my friends had become involved in some other battle as Storrgrim and I squared off. I heard a roar and then a screech to my left as a huge blue wyvern dropped out of the snowy sky to the ground. I saw its female rider (the witch from the tavern fight outside the Dragonwood?) climbing out of the saddle get hit with a couple of Simel's arrows.

I continued to smash away at the giant’s legs. His gray-blue flesh was harder than a human's, but marks begin to appear and fluids begin to flow from the wounds. He landed a few glancing blows (thank the dragon for the spells Aleae and Clarion cast to protect me) but I stood up to him.

Around me, huge ice spells turn the area into a (more) frozen waste. Blasts of icy air, Hail stones, lightening, thunder, and the crackle of wand magic surround this battle. Clarion pushed through the fight to come to my side. A huge winter wolf also joined and breathed an icy blast upon us. More than once, Clarion’s shield saved me from a chop of Storrgim's massive axe, and Clarion got badly mauled. The giant demanded to know what Clarion was, and Clarion called out that we would stand triumphant over the giant’s corps before day's end, demoralizing Storgrimm with magic.

I managed a particularly good mash into a giant leg. Instead of screams of pain, I look up to see an amused smile amidst his snowy why beard. Apparently Storrgrim liked this fight better than he thought he would. Although I know he meant to hew my body apart, I felt something burn inside me—like the kinship two matched foes feel sometimes—and I think he may have appreciated me. I write this only in looking back, because at the time, my mind was full of rage and fiery-red purpose.

I yelled out: “I will cut you down to size and mash your head in the end!” More guffaws from the
giant.

Around us, I saw an air elemental arrive as a vortex of screaming wind—that is the definitely the lady from the tavern brawl.

I saw the wyverrn hop up and move towards Simel with its lashing, venomous tail, and more blasts of magic passed between two sorceresses. Wounded by falling ice, the enemy witch soon retreated into the tree line, but then I saw Aleae stalk after her and point her Wand of Wonder. A stream of shiny-bright rocks blasted out of the wand and knocked the wyvern-riding witch to the ground. That is good.

Storgrimm and I are not seriously wounded yet.  I am sure that will change soon.

#74 - Old Enemies and New Objectives

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

After meticulously planning out the rest of our stay in Wroat, we headed to the Citadel to report in with Three.  Our mission to the Dragonwood was a success and he needed to be made aware of our findings.  Three was not in attendance at court, however.  Captain Ellanar, commander of the King's Swords (an elite warrior force trained to operate far and wide on behalf of the crown), was charged with debriefing us.  I reported on all that transpired in the Dragonwood, as well as our interlude at the ir’Valish mansion.  Captain Ellanar brusquely handed us a reward of 1,000 galifars. She did not seem pleased for us to be rewarded in this way—or by this amount—so I promptly refused payment.  I was quickly overruled by my companions. 

Absent: Three, the King's Protector

There was some tension at the Citadel and Three’s absence was making my companions nervous.  I did not tell the Captain about the dragon’s gift to us, the Deck of Many Things.  That information could wait until Three returned.  

Before I had a chance to talk about our battle against the forger Sylvander, Magnus asked the King’s Sword about the recent theft at the Wroat Exchequer.  She insisted that it was being handled capably, but Magnus persisted and was told that in addition to the Agents of the Citadel, House Medani had been hired to find the culprit.  She mentioned the Blue Wraith by name, confirming the rumors from recent broadsheets, and Magnus and I offered our services to the crown.  Somewhat dismissively, Captain Ellanar said that if we were able to find the Blue Wraith, Breland would be grateful. I vowed to not disappoint our glorious nation, although the captain did not seem to care much for my words.

Glyphstone Keep was mentioned. It will be the next stop on our journey. Kard, as well, seemed to have his own reasons for going to that ancient Dhakaani fortress, and he had already asked us to assist him. Captain Ellanar was very tight with any information about the keep.  We asked if Three was there and she still refused to share her intelligence.  Finally, Magnus declared that we were heading there next, and I quickly used some military diplomacy to ask permission for our trespassing on the king’s lands.  Captain Ellanar said we would not be stopped, but subtly reminded us that Glyphstone Keep would be considered property of Breland as it rested on Brelish soil.

I also inquired about my final messenger.  It had not reached Three, and since he was not within the vicinity when I released the messenger, it passed instead to another warforged under Brelish authority, a guard at the Citadel.  I asked for the messenger to be returned but I was refused.  They said that since the messenger was meant for Three, it would be kept safe until such time as the King's Protector could receive it.  I requested it be returned to me at the next possible opportunity. The Citadel noted my request in triplicate.

Next, we returned to the House Phiarlan Carnival, which was still setting up outside the city proper.  We found our captive, the Sivis excoriate forger Sylvander, bound and shivering in a small tent.  Lady Amaryllis, the Mistress of the Carnival, was looming over him and he was much more talkative than even before.  Apparently while we were in the city, Amaryllis had further interrogated the forger.  Between her interrogations and our further questioning, we were able to learn of a new character, a shifter named Tyken Roslof.  

Roslof was a member of the Dark Lanterns, Breland's covert intelligence agency, but he was a defector who betrayed his king. Using the forged documents made by Sylvander, Roslof stole the gold from the Exchequer and was promptly murdered by his cohorts after giving the stolen gold to the Blue Wraith.  This was the body that Lord Szen d’Jorasco performed an autopsy on, which led to his investigations at the ir'Valish estate.

Sylvander didn’t know the significance of it, but he knew that Glyphstone Keep was involved in this crime somehow. Alain ir’Valesh, the true identity of the Blue Wraith, had recently received an invitation from an unknown party—someone, Sylvander theorized, from Droaam—to go to Glyphstone Keep and meet with others "who would see King Boranel extracted from his throne." Some of the others invited were agents of the Order of the Emerald Claw as well as "a dark druid of the Gloaming."

Symbol of the Order
of the
Emerald Claw

I had heard of the Gloaming, a place of deep darkness in the woods of the Eldeen Reaches.  It is a manifest zone to Mabar, the Plane of Endless Night and Dar told us that it is also the home of the Children of Winter, a particularly militant sect of druids with a markedly nihilistic outlook on the world. Dar asked about the Order of the Emerald Claw and we explained that they are Karnnathi terrorists, formerly a knightly orded that Karrnath's own king disbanded and outlawed. They are believed to be associated with the cult Blood of Vol. From our adventures, Magnus and I know that they are also willing to ally with other outlaw-minded groups. We crossed bladeswith the Emerald Claw back in the ruins of Paluur Draal, which implies they may be allied with Avashad as well. I remember that day well, as it might have been when I first decided that I wanted to craft an iron defender of my own (we were attacked by some).

Sylvander demanded his freedom, for he wanted nothing more to do with his former associates—only his safety. In exchange, he promised to draw a map of a secret entrance to Glyphstone Keep, which he claims to have seen in Alain ir'Valish's company. The party agreed to his demands despite his traitorous acts against the Crown.

Aleae also spoke briefly with Lady Amaryllis, for the two high elves had made some arrangement at our last meeting concerning the mutual fate of their race. Aleae comes from the feyspire in the Eldeen Reaches, and Amaryllis comes from the feyspire in Karrnath. It seemed there would be a meeting of their kind in two weeks' time with representatives from two other feyspires. 

Speaking of the feyspire in Karrnath, Lady Amaryllis had Magnus's dragonbone maul to return to him. She had sent it to her cousin, the eladrin ruler of Taer Syraen (this means "Winter Citadel" in elven), to analyze it. I had never seen Magnus read words as enthusiastically as the letter that Lord Syraen had sent back with the maul.

He read it to us.

Magnus of Seren,

My fair cousin, the Lady Amaryllis, explained to me that you had agreed to my terms: Namely, that if I examined the curious weapon placed temporarily in my care, you would perform a service on my behalf without question. I shall call on you again to meet your side of the bargain.

Here is what I have discovered. You have come into possession of a most fascinating artifact. Its name is Haurach, which means “fate” in Draconic, but it is also called the Defiler’s Bane.  The  weapon was crafted from the bones of the firstborn of the venerable  white dragon Vensharatryx, and it was wrought in vengeance with the aid of a frost giant jarl whom she held in confidence. During the Age of Demons, the white dragon was slain by the servants of Katashka, the Gatekeeper Rajah who carried the grandiose epithet of “the Lord of Undeath.”

Vensharatryx intended  the maul to be wielded by a warrior of her newly-founded Winter Coalition. The Draconic runes further suggest that its bearer, at least for a time, would become the leader of that order and would rally others to the cause.

The maul’s power is accessible to you, provided you have the strength and courage to reveal it. My cousin tells me that you and your friends have already traversed the paths of prophecy and that it is likely not by chance that you came to possess this weapon. If that is so, and you are aligned in purpose with Vensharatryx—who ever opposed the terrible rakshasa rajah—then I encourage you to claim this weapon as your own.

Yet doing so will be dangerous. You must carry it out into the elements under an open sky, ideally during snowfall. Cast the maul to the earth and speak the name of the spirit bound to it: Storrgrim. You will need to submit to whatever trial he presents. I strongly suggest you do this somewhere remote and where innocent casualties will be few. If you succeed, take caution: the Defiler’s Bane is intelligent, driven by the spirit inhabiting it, who is both irascible and violent. Yet his cause is the same as that of Vensharatryx, for his own tribe was slaughtered by the Gatekeeper’s servants. 

As a final note, you should know that the Winter Coalition interests me considerably. I possess some lore on the subject in my personal library. You and your friends are welcome to visit me and discuss the subject. Otherwise, I will call on you when I have need.

                     Lord Syraen 

When he finished, Lady Amaryllis looked out the window of her tent and remarked that it would snow tomorrow.

#73 - Goods and Services in Wroat

Over the course of several days in Wroat, the capital city of Breland, in the first month of the year (Zarantyr), the PCs were involved in political, local, and personal affairs. First the halfling Lord Szen involved them in seeking the Sivis excoriate named Sylvander, while the human bounty hunter Simel sought their assistance in finding Alain ir’Valish, the Blue Wraith. With the former in hand, the hope was to draw out the latter.

Between these events, the PCs sought to use this time to carry out a number of personal errands, acquisitions, sales, and crafting. To do this, they went individually or in groups to various sites in the city. Chiefly, the towers of the Citadel (the security agency of Breland), House Jorasco, the Temple of the Sovereign Host, the House Cannith enclave, a House Sivis messaging station, the Kundarak bank, the Carnival of Shadows (which is setting up outside the city).

Miscellaneous —

• Clarion began to discuss with Cypher some ideas he has about construction of an "expandable holy shield" or "an integrated holy water container/dispenser." Just brainstorming, at this point.
• 
  

House Cannith – When visiting this impressive estate, which rises several stories in the air and descends several below, it became clear that the PCs were not typical clients. They possessed wealth and magic, two very important criteria when doing business with the House of Making. Moreover, Cypher is an artificer of considerable skill. When speaking with members of the house about all things technical and arcane, he becomes keenly aware of how far he’s come since his apprenticeship to the magewright tinkerer long ago…

A young dragonmarked heir named Kuven d’Cannith meets with the PCs to discuss business.

• Access to a laboratory and workshop will cost Cypher 10 gp/day, which he would use for augmenting his iron defender, Rungo, and the brewing of potions.
  
• The remains of the warforged name Ink were sold to for 40 gp.
• The “dancing sword” was examined, and the Canniths provided some insight. Sometimes when weapons are enchanted, either due to crafter's error or some other factor, anomalies occur and result in cursed weapons. A sword like this one might have been intended to be a dancing sword, for example. This one, however, appeared to have been deliberately created as a cursed sword and is meant to attack whoever tries to wield it. 
• The teeth and scaled of Rastereshizak the copper dragon were sold for a total of 40 gp.
• The black stone “eye” of Rastereshizak was identified for 250 gp. It was identified as a "Black Oculus" and was confirmed to be enchanted with potent necromancy as a focus for other rituals, not necessarily as a device with its own direct effect. Additionally, a legend lore spells reveals the following lore:
• Crafted by a shapeshifter of the Dragon Below and a dreamer from the Age of Demons. The one who sees through the Oculus for one hundred days will serve his Master beyond the grave. His body will forever serve, in death a focus for the Gatekeeper’s eye. The Cannith wizards do not know what the second sentence suggests, but they believe that the third means that the body of the dragon this was taken from—"a copper dragon, you say it was?"—can be used as a focus for scrying magic. That means bones, teeth, scales, claws...all can be used against their possessors for spying purposes.
• The obsidian chunk culled from the “dark mirror” in Sorethyress’s cave was sold for 100 gp.
• Lady ir’Valish’s spellbook could have been sold for 1,000 gp, but Kuven said that the Citadel might be interested in it, given its political association. Though, he stressed that the Citadel won’t offer as much money for it, if any. Cypher and Clarion are inclined to hand it over to the Citadel.
• Claviger’s schema - When Cypher presented the schema that he had extracted from inside the body of the warforged Claviger...__________

Wands available for purchase or barter:

• Wand of Binding: (market price: 4,000 gp) This wand is a length of chain held rigid by the magic that infuses it. The chain is crafted from adamantine, and runes of binding and imprisonment adorn each link. Property [Attuned]: You must be an artificer, bard, cleric, druid, sorcerer, warlock, or wizard to become attuned to this item. The wand has 7 charges. As an action, you can expend the specified number of charges to cast one of the following spells from the wand.
• hold person (2 charges)
• hold monster (6 charges)
• If you expend the wand’s last charge, roll a d20. On a 1, the wand blackens and crumbles to dust, forever destroyed. The wand regains 1d6 + 1 expended charges each day at dawn. In addition, while you hold the wand, you can expend a charge as a reaction whenever you make a saving throw to resist the hold person or the hold monster spell to gain advantage on your saving throw. 
• Wand of Sleep (market price: 1,000 gp) One end of this length of slender rosewood glimmers like a coal, but the gleam is cobalt blue. Property: You must be an artificer, bard, sorcerer, or wizard to use this wand. The wand has 6 charges. As an action, you can expend up to 3 charges to cast sleep from the wand. Each charge expended after the first allows you to cast the spell as if using a spell slot one level higher (maximum 2nd level). If you expend the wand’s last charge, roll a d20. On a 1, the wand blackens and crumbles to dust, forever destroyed. The wand regains 1d6 + 1 expended charges each day at dawn.

Gems

• Once appraised at a jeweler’s shop, you learn that the assorted gemstones from Rasterreshizak’s treasure bag are potentially worth a total of 2,000 gp (only if extensively shopped around). The jeweler offers to purchase them straightaway for 1,300gp, which is a “real steal.
• Likewise, a pouch of assorted gems was acquired from the woman at the ir'Valish country estate. Worth is about 400gp, can be sold for 300gp on the spot.
• Aleau commissioned a suit of shiftweave clothing, adding an additional 100 gp to have it made in four days' time.

House Sivis messaging station —

• Clarion visited the House Sivis messaging station.

Carnival of Shadows –

• Learning more from the captive gnome Sylvander: this will wait for our game session
• Meeting with Amaryllis, the Lady of the Carnival, who has Magnus's mace returned with new information: this will wait for our game session
• When Magnus meets with the two Seren (Stormwalker) barbarians, Durshast and Eshka, he learns that this is their last time with the Carnival. Master Mussfinch has learned that a pair of blue dragons have been sighted near the edge of the Mournland by the Brelish town of Vathiron. The Serens intend to travel there to investigate, hoping to find some connection to their kin.

Temple of the Sovereign Host —

• Prelate Faldren at the Temple of the Sovereign Host is a half-elf Brelish and the highest "ranking" priest of the Host in the city. He has a good relationship with the Citadel, and in particular Three, the King's Protector.
  
• Faldren can regenerate Kard's hand for free, but doing so would require some time of service from him—in particular for a full week in Olarune (next month) leading up to the 20th. It becomes plain to the prelate timkuuu3hat Kard is a gifted cleric. The 20th of Olarune will mark the fifth anniversary of the Day of Mourning. A cleric of Boldrei, the goddess of community, who is also a Cyran lead the observances would be wonderful. 
• Likewise, Clarion's arrival at the Temple greatly interests the prelate. For one, outside of Three, the prelate has rarely met a paladin of Dol Arrah among warforged and he is interested in learning how Clarion came into the faith—especially from arcane magic-heavy Aundair. More information to come

House Jorasco —

• The reattachment of Kard's hand would cost 1,250 gp (discounted to 910 gp by Lord Szen putting in a good word—which he would)

The Citadel—

• The PCs can meet with Captain Ellanar, commander of the King's Swords. 

#72 - One-handed Apprehension

With the troll defeated, and Kard so terribly wounded, the aftermath of the battle was protracted. Clarion finally emerged from the cave, having caught up to his companions. The newcomer, the human who had intervened and crippled the ogres, introduced himself as Simel. He was quite obviously a Karrn, though his reasons for being there were not obvious. He spoke of a bounty he'd been asked to take—his target was a criminal known as the Blue Wraith—but why a Karrn would be hunting bounties so far from Karrnath was not so obvious. Certainly, in these days of tenuous peace, many citizens of the Five Nations have taken to exploring other lands, but Simel did not seem like a tourist.

Clarion use some of his healing magic to aid Kard. With a longsword, he even managed to extract the cleric's gnawed and partially digested hand from the half-melted and burned troll carcass. Their hope was to find a way to attach it again, but they knew powerful and expensive magic would be needed. Perhaps House Jorasco could help.

The gnome, Sylvander d'Sivis by name, was subdued, although when the PCs bound his hands, he began to speak—and offer an alternative to being handed over to the Brelish authorities. As an heir of House Sivis, he reminded Simel that Sivis gnomes were trained with a preternatural discipline that enabled them to literally forget whatever they chose to. Even though handing him over to the Citadel, which is what the halfling Szen d'Jorasco would want, he would not prove to be valuable.

Magnus was not pleased. He wanted to simply hand the gnome over and finish their part. Simel was not convinced that was the best course of action, and Cypher agreed. Likewise, the druid Dar believed that Sylvander might be a lead for her own mysteries.

What was learned during the deliberations and interrogations:

• The cave they party had emerged from was situated several miles outside of Wroat, just inside the King's Forest. 
• The cave served as an emergency escape for Sylvander, but the cave—and the troll, and the ogres, and the shortsword-wielding rogue they'd slain—all belonged to the Blue Wraith.
• Yes, he, Sylvander, forger and excoriate of House Sivis (who was wanted by the Citadel and his former house), had played some part in the theft at the Wroat Exchequer, which was big news back in town.
• The Blue Wraith is believed to be Alain ir'Valish, a prominent member of the infamous ir'Valish family. The ir'Valish family, it is well known in Wroat, was once a prominent noble family loyal to the crown. But through acts of treason, and rumored devil worship, they have gone underground.
• According to Sylvander, Alain is indeed the Blue Wraith, and is a wanted crime lord who has managed to elude capture right under the Citadel's nose. (If the Citadel had a nose.)
• Sylvander claimed that if he is not handed over to the authorities, was kept free, he could provide the PCs with forged identification papers, whatever they desired. He assured them that their intrusion into his home had already ruined his business in the city anyway. He 
• Likewise, Sylvander has a link to the Blue Wraith, and if he is allowed, he could attempt to make contact and allow Alain ir'Valish to come forth. Alain is believed to be behind the recent theft against the Wroat Exchequer, which seems to be a larger threat against the crown.
• While Sylvander is a wanted criminal in his own right, his purpose is decidedly self-serving; he seems to serve no grander purpose. Clarion attempted to learn more with Detect Thoughts, but the canny gnome resisted. The warforged did learn, however, that Sylvander served no others. He's a free agent.

Rather than risking bringing Sylvander into the city—where he insisted the guards who apprehend him at the gate—the PCs decided to go directly to the Carnival of Shadows. The Phiarlan elves had told them in Galethspyre that Wroat was their next stop. Accordingly, they found the Carnival still setting up in the fields outside the eastern gate of the city.

Visiting them, they met up again with Mussfinch, the tall, white-haired, gaunt, and yellow-coated Master of the Carnival. He greeted them, and asked briefly about the newcomers: Simel and Dar.

When they found some privacy, Mussfinch asked them how their mission went—but both the elf and they were short on details, because neither Simel nor Dar were trusted with such classified information. The PCs then asked if Mussfinch could hold onto Sylvander for a short while—if they let him go, he would vanish, and if they turned him in to the Citadel he'd become useless. Mussfinch agreed only to watch the excoriate for 24 hours, understanding why but insisting that he was not comfortable keeping secrets from his Brelish hosts.

Mussfinch pointed out that his wife, the eladrin Lady Amaryllis, "had something for Magnus." The barbarian was quite eager to get his dragonbone mace back and discover what properties it possesses—though the arrangement he had made also meant that he owed a very powerful and royal eladrin an unknown service. He was to return the next day to meet with her.

With Sylvander in the hands of the Phiarlan elves, the PCs returned to the city, fumbled their way through the gate (Dar went mute, forcing Cypher to "explain" who she was and document her entry), and reunited with their other companions. Simel, too, was staying at the Royal Bear inn, and as as a group they began to discuss their next steps.

A short visit to the Jorasco enclave revealed the cost of having Kard's handed reattached and healed. It would be expensive indeed, but for helping Lord Szen find the gnome forger, he would get a discount.

#71 - Ogres, a Troll, and an Unexpected Ally

From the Leaves of Memory, the written musings of Loh, druid of the King's Forest

From the doorway, I saw pure chaos. A lush carpet had wrapped itself around Magnus like a coiled, paisley snake. A mad gnome, who I assumed was the forger we seek, was thrusting documents by the fistful into a blazing fire. From one room to the next, this forger's hidden compartments have held endless mystery and surprise. How is it that a forger has the ability or the need to create such a vast magical abode?

Honestly, at this point I was overwhelmed by all the foes we had faced, so I turned my attention to another, more familiar force: the fire that the forger was counting on to hide all evidence of his wrongdoing. I couldn't risk him destroying proof of what happened to my brother and my comrades—after all, it's possible that the images of me and Sah that Lord Szen found at the ir'Valish estate were created by his hand. So I strode into the room and sent a mammoth gust of wind towards the fireplace. The fire extinguished easily, and the forger looked quite angry and surprised.

I had little time to revel in my small victory, however, as a dwarven guard quickly approached me, battle axe swining. As we fought, I saw the forger relight the fire with a spell of flame, then he hopped into the fireplace, and disappear—dastardly magical doors! But the watchword he used to activate the portal was audible to all, and one by one we followed the forger through the fireplace as we had the paintings.

Our new surroundings were far less luxurious than the previous few rooms. Stone walls surrounded us on all sides, and a dark tunnel lay ahead. As Kard and I discussed what to do, it seemed as if Cypher was under some kind of spell. Very out of character for him, he urged us to wait for the forger to return so we could simply talk with him. This advice didn't seem normal for a defender of Brelish justice, but whatever spell had taken hold of his mind soon lifted, and Cypher began barking orders to get us across the tunnel, whose pitch-covered floor separated us from the forger.

At Cypher's command, I bestowed upon Magnus, then Cypher, and then Kard the ability to cling to surfaces like a spider. Then I wild-shaped into a giant wolf spider and followed suit. I've come to love that furry, eight-legged, keen-eyed beast. Blinking is so satisfying when you have eight optical orbs.

Once we had all crossed to the other side of the tunnel, the group headed toward an exit to our right, and fortunately so, as I smelled troll in a tunnel that wound the other direction. I silently hoped that moving away from the troll would keep it out of our path.

The manmade tunnel that we followed led to the mouth of a cave, and a forest widened before us. While I didn't know the exact location, it seemed to be part of my home, the King's Forest. But I had little time to feel excited because all eight of my eyes were instantly filled with the sight of two giant ogres bearing down on Magnus and Kard, lunging from around the bend!

Even more surprising, two arrows that seemed to come from nowhere dealt the ogres a crippling blow. Both howled and dropped to the ground, stricken in the ankles. With the ogres prone, we attacked them mercilessly. To my eyes, it was a flurry of activity. Cypher unleashed a a giant fireball from a spell-scroll and it erupted just beyond the ogres, rendering one of them instantly hairless. The same brute was quickly killed by Magnus, while I leapt up and bit the throat of the still-hairy one. His throat swelled as my spider poison spread through his veins, and he suffocated quickly. Paralyzed but perhaps not dead yet. The dumb creatures were no match for us.

Transcript from the unwritten memoirs of the ogre Vorg:

Vorg was hungry today. Found blue toadstools, made tummy hurt. Got Qog to eat them, too. Funny!

Vorg and Qog told to guard cave again. Stink in there. We not go far inside. Shark man says ugly troll who lives there not allowed to eat Vorg. So that good. Vorg and Qog guard cave good like always. When mean little Shark-man come again, he talks and Vorg forgot to listen. But then a little squeak shows up from INSDE cave—what! we guard it good!—and he talks too fast. Says something about robbers, I guess. Shark-man tells Vorg and Qog to hide and then hit robbers when they come out of cave. Vorg thinks this would be fun. Hit hard to make bones crunch and red go splat!

We not wait long. Loud robbers coming. Qog and Vorg jump and scare little people. But a sharp thing hits foot like faerie spear. HURTS! Vorg rolls to ground and sees Qog also on ground. Qog is so dumb! Lets little arrow-stick make him fall. We roll to get up and squish robbers, but then fire hits Vorg's body and head. Vorg thinks fire comes from little metal war-man with piece of paper. Stupid magic paper! Vorg is HOT! Vorg doesn't feel good but at least it make him SO MAD. War-man robber will get hurt worse now!

Vorg sees Qog get up again, but not-as-little little robber man with big mace hits him good. One time and then another one time, and Vorg roars and then falls into side of hill. Funny, but not-as-little robber man needs to get smashed quick!

Vorg is stronger than Qog and gets up faster. Vorg wants to crunch and bite and rip squishy little robbers real bad now. Vorg not like them at all. Then a VERY BIG SPIDER comes out of cave. It not biting robber men! Comes after Vorg! This not good day at all. Spider bites Vorg and Vorg can't breathe right.

Don't feel so good. Vorg will take a nap and smash little robber men later.

We continued to battle with two men who walked out of the trees. The first was a human, who wielded two short swords, was a clear danger. The second was the our fleeing gnome forger. He blurred his form with a spell and unleashed magic missiles at Magnus, so I scuttled over the second ogre towards him, trying to get a better look—and not a moment too soon, for the troll I had hoped we'd avoid loped out of the tunnel and into our path. More dumb creatures, I thought. But this one was especially hideous, with a third, malformed arm sprouting from one shoulder.

Suddenly, I heard Kard calling out in exalted tones. Then there stood in our midst a towering, glowing, angelic entity bearing a sword and shield and a symbol not unlike the Octogram of the Sovereign Host—conjured into being like an elemental from the outer planes. It lashed out at the troll with a blazing sword, keeping the troll from maneuvering easily towards us. This new force is not one I'd want as an enemy.

The troll, meanwhile, flailed wildly at us, and he knocked the spider-form right out of me. Dar again, I moved as far away as possible, only to turn around and see the troll swipe Kard a potentially mortal blow, then seize him and lift him in the air! Unconscious and dying, the human was mercifully unaware as the troll bit into his arm and tore his right hand clean off—then proceeded to gnash at the stump like a giant turkey leg. There was so much blood.

Elsewhere, I spotted the forger again—he'd relocated magically as Magnus bore down on him—as well as an unfamiliar, new face. A road-weary, but armored human, he seemed not to be the friend of the forger or the other human—though I soon learned that he was the sniper from the trees who felled the ogres when the battle began. I do not know if he is friend or foe to me. Keeping an eye on both men, I watched Magnus deal the final blow to the troll.

Kard's body hit the ground as the troll fell, but miraculously seconds later he came awake, climbed dazedly to his feet, and tried to move away. His wound wept red puddles upon the earth.

The gnome, still blurred by his magic, appeared to have surrendered.

#70 - A Rude Arrival

The PCs were in a room quite different from the rest of the forger's opulent hideout. In the corner, trunk-like clusters of roots rose like columns. The earthen floor of the chamber roiled with strange mist, and it had a baleful effect upon Clarion, Szen, and Dafrena. Warforged, halfling, and dwarf all toppled to the ground. Unharmed but incapacitated.

An immense and quite hideous pale worm with a many-toothed maw rose up out of the ground in front of Magnus. For several long moments, he engaged it along with the others, but though it gnashes at him and dealt him minor injuries, his own weapon passed harmlessly through it. It took some time for them to realize it—and a thoughtful infusion from Cypher—to fully deduce that the beast was an illusion. Not merely an illusion, a phantasm—capable of dealing real harm, if you believe in it. Once this was realized, the worm faded away.

Meanwhile, writhing, root-like tendrils grasped anyone they could reach—the druid Dar, Kard, Cypher. Once the illusory worm was dealt with, Magnus pulped the animate plants, quieting them in time, while Dar wildshaped into a badger to escape the tendrils. She even dug into the packed earth, discovering that the chamber beyond was barred by stone from underneath.

Cypher tried out the dancing sword he believed he had, which he'd acquired in the cellar of the ir'Valish estate, casting it into the air to combat his enemies. At which point it immediately turned upon him, slashing into his body and dealing considerable damage. Soon Kard, with help from Magnus, sent it banging out of the air and into the earth. Bent, but now inanimate, the cursed blade was reclaimed by Cypher anyway (because of course it was).

When all threats had passed, the PCs brought the unconscious or disabled allies back through the painting they'd entered and lay them in the previous chamber. Cypher set Rungo to guard them.

The door to exit the earthen room had three locks, but Cypher expertly picked each and every one, using an infusion to guide his already skilled hands. With a detect magic spell, Kard learned that a section of the floor in the hallway that lay beyond it was enchanted with conjuration magic. Believing it to be a trap, they were sure to move around it.

The door at the end of the hall led into a comfortable study with a desk, bookshelves, extravagant carpet, and homey fireplace. A middle-aged gnome—well-dressed but obviously flustered—was busy gathering papers and tossing them into the fire. Obviously destroying documents as quickly as possible.

Into this chamber Magnus charged, bursting through the door and engaging in melee with a pair of dwarf bodyguards who's flanked the entry. In a corner, an ugly, much-too-large rat with bony spurs hissed and sputtered and quickly joined the combat.

Magnus made short work of the first dwarf, but a quick command from the gnome prompted the massive carpet underfoot rise up and wrap around the barbarian! Kard and Cypher rushed into the room, the cleric managing to knock the gnome to the floor. Unharmed but prone!

The diminutive forger looked...inconvenienced.

#69 - The Forger's Lair

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

Crammed spaces.  I am coming to hate them.

We were in a halfling's basement, kicking our way into a room guarded by a warforged and there was NO way I could swing my mace in there.  Hopefully, the next room would be built a bit bigger.  The party spilled out into a really nicely furnished room, tea set and all.  A handful couple of kobolds and the warforged were ready to get physical with us.

I banged the warforged hard, but this one cheated and sprayed and spurted substances at us. Some kind of ink even blinded Cypher. But as we tore into the warforged and the kobolds and and started to win, the warforged slid over to a painting of a city on the wal....and then stepped inside it.  I could see him in there…more magic.  It wasn’t long before some of the party let us know that there was a magic word to get into the painting. Kard must have heard it first. He stepped right into the painting after the warforged.

Clarion, too, then said the word very clearly—“Ristil” or thereabouts—and put his hand through the painting.  I put my hand on his shoulder and tried to put my hand in. No good, I had to say the watchword myself.

Clarion stepped in. I said the word finally, and stepped in. It was a funny feeling, but not a bad one.  I emerged in a slighter larger, less furnished room that looked like a barracks. Inside were also Kard and Clarion and some halflings and the fleeing warforged.  We killed them all—almost. And Kard got stabbed repeatedly by the halflings. It was strange! I'm more accustomed to seeing pooling blood beneath my own body, not my ally's. We did realize that without some help, we couldn’t use all the paintings—and there was another in this room. I tried to knock one of the halflings out and Kard used a “hold person” spell on him.

Cypher joined us. We spent a long time doing a bad job of interrogating our prisoner. A bad job. He negotiated with us and then gave us the watchwords for activating the magic paintings—one for passing through alone, one for looking through like a window, and one for letting in a larger group. We asked him where the forger was—the one whose lair this was—and the halfling told us it was the painting in the first room.

We headed back into the first room. We let the one prisoner go. We dragged the warforged back into the first room, since Cypher wanted his goo-spraying arm weapon. Acid, ink, grease, stuff like that. Cypher will likely mount it on his head.

After another long talk, we moved into the painting of the dark wasteland—the halfling said it was a paint of Dolurrh, the Realm of the Dead—the way we were told to go. Once we entered, we found it to be very different than the other rooms. It was like a grave or something, soft spongy ground, covered with mist and under that, insects.  At the end were two large root-like trees and a door. The misty floor felt strange and I heard some kind of commotion among my allies as I walked through it towards the opposite door. Then the floor seemed to open up directly in front of me. I didn’t fall, but something was charging up out of the misty pit in front of me.

The halfling prisoner had sent us to a trap.

And why shouldn’t he?

#68 - Entering Wroat

It was a handful of gargoyles that had been perching on boulders nearby, watching. How long they'd been there even Kard was unsure. An attempt to see and engage them sent the flying into the air. Previously, Cypher and Magnus had battled gargoyles in the Seawall Mountains and the warforged had even had a tangle with one on the streets of Graywall. They were known to be aggressive predators—not unintelligent but hardly diplomatic.

They're also known for lairing in high, rocky places or vast cave networks. So what were they doing out on an open plain?

The druid who'd first introduced herself as Dar, now revealed to be a changeling named Loh, offered a means of hiding from the gargoyles' surveillance with her earthly magic. Using a Pass Without Trace spell, the group moved with greater stealth back to where the Brelish couple awaited on the road, then moved further down the road and made camp in a copse of trees.

Kard had now rejoined the group. His quest was vague but one thing he made clear: he wanted the rest of the party to join him in entering Glyphstone Keep, a place about which they'd all heard only rumors. He would join them in their local errand in the city, but before long, insisted on returning to his quest—a quest which had something to do with his knowing where to find them in the first place.

"Changelings, bah! You can't
trust a people who can
change their faces on a
whim." —Racists, or
anyone who's been
wronged by a changeling

Meanwhile, the Jorasco halfling Lord Szen suggested that upon reaching Wroat, the party join him in investigating the "forger" address that the ir'Valish mage had on her person. It was a Brelish matter of state, in fact, and had something to do with his reason for going to the ir'Valish estate in the first place. Szen explained that recently, there had been a high profile theft at the Wroat Exchequer (the government's treasury). Someone had withdrawn a valuable sum of gold using illegal yet impeccable documents constructed for that sole purpose. Then a body had turned up in the river, and agents of the Citadel had asked Lord Szen to examine the body. Having detected trace of the necromancy-conducive plant covadish, he had been sent to investigate the abandoned ir'Valish estate, since the ir'Valish family were known for having cultivated the rare plant before.

All of these things, he believed, were related. Perhaps more answers would come if they could find the location of the forger in question! Thus far, Wroat's law enforcement had not been able to find him.

The last remaining days in traveling to Wroat were uneventful. Cypher examined and identified some of the magic items they'd procured in the basement of the ir'Valish estate. The gauntlets imparted supernatural agility to their wearer, the helm greater protection, and the sword was a "dancing weapon"—allegedly able to fight on its own if tossed into the air during a fight. Each of these would require some attunement, however.

The PCs reached Wroat and after some antics at the gate, all made it inside. Clarion and Aleae were slightly detained at the gate—for the eladrin possessed no identification papers—but they agreed to meet up with the others later the Royal Bear Inn, a place Szen knew well enough.

Loh also had no identification papers, but she used her druidic talents to transform into an animal, became a rat, and simply scurried underfoot past the guards. Only after assisting her to pass unseen did Cypher, First Sergeant of the Brelish Engineers Brigade, realize he'd been complicit in deceiving Brelish authorities.

Wroat is Brelish's capital city, a metropolis dwarfed only by Sharn. Spread onto two sides of the Howling River, a central island houses Brokenplade Castle (the palace-fortress of King Boranel's court) and the buildings of the Citadel. It was a bright day, and the city's many thousands of citizens and visitors flowed through the streets. Most were human, but a surprising number of gnomes and half-elves comprised the population, with a smaller amount of elves, dwarves, and halflings. Even warforged were plentiful, relatively speaking.

After crossing a massive bridge into the south side of the city, settling in at the Royal Bear, stabling their horses, and paying for rooms for three days, the PCs set out for the "forger" location. The street address led to a dark, closed little glassware shop. After Szen banged loudly on the front door and Dafrena, his dwarf bodyguard, winced at the racket, the old halfling finally broke out of thieves tools and popped it open with a bit of luck. The PCs went inside, found a tight little spiral stairwell winding down into the dark, and proceeded down.

They arrived in what seemed to be a small receiving room, with green-tiled floors, and uncomfortably low ceilings clearly intended for smaller folk like halflings and gnomes. Magnus had to stoop, and could not stand upright.

On one wall was a door, on the other a vivid painting of a moonlit meadow. A big warforged with a curious contraption on one arm answered the door, and told them, "It is advisable that you leave." When they did not, it closed the door again. When they pressed the point, they discovered that a sitting room lay beyond, as did a handful of kobolds armed with blades. The warforged warned them that if they passed through the door, they would come to harm.

They passed through the door.

#67 - Lost and Found Companions

From the Leaves of Memory, the written musings of Loh, druid of the King's Forest

Soon after I escape from gelatinous cube, we all heard the dwarf Dafrena shout from her upstairs post that the house was on fire. As Magnus encouraged us to move out as quickly as possible, Szen and some of the others begin frantically searching through the herbs on one of the tables. I, on the other hand, started to ascend immediately with Aleae by my side. As we hurried upstairs, I asked if I could see the amulet she took from the chest. As I thought, it looks just like the one Lorsanna ir’Valish used to wear. Emerging from the basement, we saw that the top floor was engulfed in flames and so we ran back towards the hedge maze, where several figures still stood in their crystal prisons.



In the tumult of the past few hours, I hadn't had time to consider who else might be in the maze, but I knew I couldn't leave without looking for my brother. In distress, I asked everyone to help me search. The more I thought about him trapped forever in this place, the more panicked I became. The others asked me to describe what he looked like, but I felt lost for words. The heat of the fire, the height of the hedges, the dawning realization that I might be completely alone—I was tongue-tied with the fear that I would leave him behind. I was asked again what he looked like, and this time asked if I could show them what he looked like. So I set my jaw firm and shifted into Sah.

Now everyone knows I am not only a druid, but a changeling as well.

I fear I have revealed too much too soon, but there was time for nothing but searching. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t do what I could to ensure Sah wasn’t in the maze.

The pseudo-dog Rungo ran through the maze looking for a fallen prisoner—as I last recall Sah had fallen to the ground when the crystal began to form around him—but found him not. Neither did the rest of us. As the heat spread to the first floor of the mansion, I saw the flames dancing in the irises of Magnus’s eyes, who stood transfixed by it all. I had done all that I could. We fled towards the road.

Heading away from the estate, my new companions express their intention of finding a family they met earlier in the day, before I was free. I care little where we go or who we find; I am so dazed, groggy like a bear who missed the start of spring.

As we traveled, I gleaned from conversation that the war had ended—an almost unthinkable development—and Cyre was destroyed. They referred to what had once been that nation as the Mournland. Questions run through my muddled mind: Did the Children of Winter succeed? Did we fail?

We paused briefly only to inspect the items taken from the chest in the ir’Valish basement: a helmet, a set of leather gauntlets, a sheaf of papers. Cypher detected a magical essence in the helmet and gauntlet. This fact was not surprising. The papers, however, shocked me, and I tried to hold onto my composure, which was rapidly becoming threadbare. The papers contained five pictures. Two are of unfamiliar people—an outlander human ("Tharari") and a halfling ("Ulmo"). The last three make my heart stop.

Sah.
Iris.
Me.

Aleae and Cypher asked me if I knew the figures in the drawings—they didn't recognize my changeling form. I didn't want to answer and wanted only to stall for time. I didn't want to face whatever reality those images held. But the questions I have are too big, too heavy to answer alone, and I need this group’s help.

I pointed to myself. I point to the impish smile of my little brother. I spoke of Iris’s fierceness and wisdom. What happened to them? What are these pictures? None of us knew. Szen pointed out that perhaps I will find some answers as we continue to help him with the mission that sent him to the ir’Valish estate in the first place. I hope that is true, but dominant in my mind is the thought that I have no one, so I may as well just continue on with these new people.

When we found the man, woman, and child my companions had met earlier in the day, they were surprised to see us alive. They seemed wary of me when I mention the time I “spent” at the ir’Valish mansion, but they consented to tell me of the ir’Valish family’s downfall. I learned that one of their eldest sons, a military commander, turned his entire battalion over to Cyre during the war, and gave them over to the slaughter. In the past, I would have been surprised by the news that this upstanding family committed treason, but now I am starting to become numb to surprises. This short day has held too many.

Finally, we slept.

When I awoke, the sun warmed my skin and I tentatively started to feel more like my old self. I savored my first sunshine in over fifteen years. Aleae gave me food and we continued traveling toward Wroat. On the second night, just before seeking our own camp, we came upon a strange circle of light cut into the darkening sky. I called upon the earth to assume the form of a rat, then inspected the perimeter of the circle with vastly heightened senses. Inside the circle of decidedly magical, day-bright light was a solitary well-worn traveler's pack. I smell someone—perhaps human?—and a whiff of alcohol on the breeze. I reverted to my own form and reported that someone’s had been drinking away his or her sorrows in this vicinity.

One by one we entered the circle of light—following Magnus's lead, who had become fond of being on horseback—but I was not sure yet that it was safe. Then, we heard a voice that some of my companions seemed to recognize. With a vague slur, a man’s voice intoned, “Don’t touch that bag, warforged!”

The speaker came out into the light. Human, indeed, somewhat disheveled but remarkably clear-headed. Robed and armored at the same time. He bore the Octagram, symbol of the Soveign Host, on his breastplate, and also a smaller holy symbol around his neck. Whatever the truth of the gods—I know little of them myself—there is no disputing that this man believes in them and it gives him power.

And so I was then introduced to Kard, a former member of this very group. To say they were surprised to find him camped in a patch of holy light off the side of a dark road on the open plains would be understating it. He spoke strange words. Kard himself was not surprised to have found them.

Kard’s presence didn't alleviate our sense that something is amiss in this area, and I wasn't the only one to spot something in the gloom. In the form of a wolf now I moved into the darkness to scout again. This time, I spied a winged creature crouching on nearby boulders. The creature itself almost looks like stone and stood as still as a mountain. It was crouched, but the wings folder arched and folded, like a statue.

It seems we are in for more surprises.