#107 - A Bear among Nagas

From the writings of a druidic stranger...

Upon waking, the first thing I remember was the shock of seeing the corpse of my companion, Duran. His arms and legs had been chewed off. I quickly understood that it wasn't the collapse of the ceiling that tore him asunder, but rather a most foul creature. The creature returned shortly after I awoke. It had the body of a serpent, easily twenty feet long or more, but the head that seemed to depict both human and demon in one. I have never seen one in person, but I knew it to be a naga.


I was in quite a predicament. If I didn't act swiftly, I might suffer the same fate, for I was sitting waist deep in a stagnant pool of brackish water, my hands were bound and sticky tendrils of some sort of water plant were fixing my in my current position.

The naga slithered towards Duran and continued to finish its meal. Perhaps Duran could still save me. Despite the gruesome sounds of my friend being consumed by a monster, I calmed my mind and focused into a meditative trance. This brief rest allowed me to regain my spells. I now had a choice, stay and fight, or flee.

Naga are no easy prey. They are immortal. The slay one is to merely forestall the battle, for legend says they will return swiftly: but when? A day later? A week? Mere minutes? I do not know. What's more, they are intelligent spellcasters, gifted with the magic of their creation. Perhaps with Iowerth at my side, I could best this unnatural abomination, but alone, I had no real choice. I had to escape.

My training saved me once again. I was able to meditate and prepare my spells even with my hands tied, some of which I could even cast. Freedom of Movement allowed me to escape my bonds and traverse the brackish waters with alacrity. I quickly discerned that a section of wall covered with the sticky kelp like substance was, in fact a passageway and I proceeded with as much speed as I could muster.

Luck was on my side, for the naga did not pursue me, though it reared up like a cobra, alarmed by its escaping meal. Perhaps I was too fast, or perhaps it was too full. I did hear it screeching out the Draconic language. I do not know precisely what it said, but the gist was clear, I was to be stopped.

Several small tunnels that I had not noticed before began to emit kobolds, minions of the naga. These kobolds were not nearly as fearsome as the creature that they served and I was able to dispatch them readily, but to my great dismay, I learned that I had not escaped unscathed. At some point during my unconsciousness, my most prized possession was taken from me. I must recover it. The rest of me had clearly been given over to the naga.

As I cut through the ranks of kobolds, they began to see their impending doom. One towards the back  climbed up the stone wall of the passage we were in activated an unseen level in the stone. Stone grated upon stone and a new passage was revealed, from whence came several gricks.

Gricks are large wormlike creatures with four tentacles at one end and a razor sharp beak. I have fought them in the past many times and always emerged victorious. Generally, they like to ambush their prey by blending in with the surrounding stones. This time, they had no such advantage.

I transformed myself into a cave bear and dispatched the gricks quickly. While I had a brief moment of respite, I knew that more kobolds would be coming, so I knew I had to press onward. Down the passageway was a set of stairs, at the bottom were two skeletons and the sounds of another battle.

Another battle meant my enemies had enemies. A trace of good fortune, that.

I paused for a moment to try to discern what was going on, but there wasn't a better way to gather information than to get my eyes on the situation. I charged down the stairs and launched myself into the room. Unfortunately for one of the skeletons, he was in my path. With one bite, I returned him to the ground from which he came.

In the center of the chamber was a jailed area with four doors. Beyond it, another passageway similar to the one I had entered from and a set of stairs. There was a track on the floor surrounding the jail. In the center of the jail was a large chest and across the way, several of the bars seemed to have been bent.

To my right was a badly-injured viridian naga, a female, slightly smaller than the one that I would have been feasted upon in the other chamber. There were a few kobolds near it with bows and arrows.

To my left was an all out war. A fuscous (more precisely, brown-, gray-, and black-banded), male naga was coiled and manipulating a strange, wheeled contraption. The contraption held the large, central eye of what is very likely a beholder, but where the body was and how they kept the eye alive is beyond me. Beside the naga was another skeleton. On the far side, engaged in battle with the naga was a towering human with tribal tattoos and bits of scale embedded in his skin and wielding a large bone of some sort. Next to the barbarian was an armored soldier wielding some sort of pike, a strange choice of weapon for such an enclosed space. To the left of her was a tall warforged unlike any I have ever seen. This one had pipes of varying sizes protruding from its back.

Attacking the soldier from the other side were two blackish oozes on the ground—black pudding, Iowerth called it. It is an especially caustic variety of monster that leeches up from the depths! Further back was yet another naga, only this one was bound to the wall with a myriad of metal straps and bands. A second warforged, smaller than the first, had scaled the wall and was applying some liquid to the metal.

I had only a moment to decide, left or right. I went right to finish off the more injured, viridian naga and raked through its body with my bear claws, sinking them deep into its flesh.

At this point a kobold, larger than any I have ever seen, stepped out from behind and launched an arrow at the adventurers. Luckily for them, it missed and the arrow sunk into the beholder eye instead. To be sure, I was uncertain of this one's loyalty. The soldier woman surprised me by whipping her polearm to and fro, cleaving the two kobolds in half and using the blunt end to smash one of the oozes. She is a formidable warrior indeed. The oozes retaliated by forming pseudopods and lashing out at her. One of the pods connected a mighty blow and she crumpled to the ground.

The brown naga was quite dismayed by the large kobold's shot and quickly closed a shutter over the eye, screaming "no, no, no!" I think that if we don't kill this kobold, he surely will. With the beholder's eye shuttered, he spat a fearsome spell at the large-piped warforged, creating a flux of dark energy. The warforged simply collapsed to the ground under its effect. Slain or merely incapacitated, I could never say. I do not understand the physiology of constructs.

This fight was not going well. I knew I had to dispatch some of these enemies quickly so that I could at least try save these potential allies. I launched an attack at the injured viridian, chomping with my jaws and slashing with my claws, but the serpent beast was to agile for me to actual do any damage.

The barbarian, enraged by the falling of his comrades, unleashed a fury the likes of which I have never seen. He swung his massive bone-mace over his head, twisted his entire body, and smashed the bone into the side of the male naga's head. White light trailed the attack. The naga's eyes seemed to roll back into its head and the sound of bone cracking was clearly audible, despite the noise of combat. The naga was dazed for a moment, which the human used to his opportunity to hit the naga once again, yet the mighty serpent did not fall.

The oversized and strangely-clad kobold, as if sensing that the armored soldier woman was near death, attempted to finish the job and aimed his bow at her, but he missed and hit the black pudding instead. Perhaps the naga need better minions, this one seems to be doing more harm than good.

The oozes once again formed pseudopods and surged at the unconscious woman. Even without looking at it, I could smell the metal armor she wore dissolving beneath their touch. Meanwhile, I was busy evading the attacks of the kobolds protecting the viridian naga.

At this point a strange metal dog-like creature scurried across the walls and ceiling and descended behind the female. The construct sank its fangs into the naga, eliciting a shrill scream, then climbed back up the wall. What manner of strangeness is this?

The brown male naga that refused to die lashed out in retaliation at the large human, spitting some vile poison at him. The glob of poison landed in the middle of his chest and with a single gasp, he also fell to the ground.

It seems that I may have signed my own death warrant by throwing myself in with this lot, but if this is how I am to die, then so be it. The female naga cast the same spell that the male had, this time directing it to me. The air rippled and the light dimmed, and I felt my energy sucked away. This banished the cave bear altogether, reverting me back to my normal form.

There were still many foes about, so I summoned the power of Eberron herself, conjuring a dark storm cloud just below the ceiling of the chamber. Connecting to the cloud, I brought down a bolt of lightning upon the brown naga and its nearby allies. The remaining skeleton was splintered into bony fragments and the naga received a nasty scorch mark, but still did not fall. Then, something truly unbelievable happened...

The oversized kobold withdrew a gemstone from his pocket and cast it upon the ground. In an almost familiar burst of telluric energy, a fearsome earth elemental rose from the worked stone! The kobold was too far away for me to hear what he commanded, but it did not bode well for those of us battling the nagas.

The second, smaller warforged, however, quickly climbed back down from the wall where he'd been working and, with a spell-like gesture, laid his hand upon the other warforged, reviving him in an instant. I now suspected the metal dog was bound to this smaller warforged.

If we can at least fell the two nagas, then we'll have a chance against the earth elemental. If we cannot, then I may see Iowerth sooner than I expected.

#106 - Domain of the Serpents

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

The naga on the balcony made idle threats I didn’t think were justified. We were told this was the Domain of the Serpents and that, if we groveled and cast our weapons into the pit, we would be granted an audience with our "betters." Although there was no chance of complying with its words, I remembered how the last nagas we faced escaped unharmed after wreaking havoc with their spells and acidic spit.

This time we were expecting them and didn’t heed its words.

We broke ranks. Magnus ran for the wall beneath the unoccupied balcony, I charged up the stairs toward the closed door. The clatter of approaching enemy reinforcements came from the side passages. I couldn’t see what creatures the others engaged, but they didn’t sound like mages. I needed to kill the naga before it could unleash any magic.

When the door gave way, I came face to face with a second naga. Before it could move I drove the Fang into its coils and unleashed the enchantment Talor had placed upon it. I don’t know whether that being would have approved this use of his blessing. While we were here to rescue the keep’s guardian naga, our motives for doing so were admittedly selfish, but in battle none of that mattered. I needed to make an impression on these arrogant serpentine spellcasters. And so I did. Nearly cut in half, its blood pooled on the ground and the creature screamed.

When the light and ringing from the blast faded, I heard an echo from below as someone–Simel – had the same idea about ending this fight quickly and decisively.

Magnus didn’t make the climb up to the balcony, but Clarion and Cypher did. Clarion tried to use the height to his advantage, engaging the first naga. Both snakes teleported away with cowardly magic, mine fumbling its spell in terror and hitting the ground thirty feet below with a distinctive splat. Clarion’s landed without further injury—until the warforged leapt down after it to continue the fight.

Descending the stairs, I finally saw—or at least became aware of—what the others were fighting. I felt strangely compelled to look at the monstrous creatures but that odd feeling made me wary about indulging it. One was larger than the largest dog, reptilian, many-legged, and many-toothed, and I later learned it was a basilisk—like the one in their Droaam stories. The other was an umber hulk, ogre-sized, insect-like and clad in the carapace of a colossal bug. Most of the others were averting their eyes from these two creatures, so I followed suit.

The battle ended a few short exchanges later. Throughout the fight I hadn’t seen Aleae, but the coat of acid covering some of the corpses look like the work of her spells. Magnus was in the worse shape; some of his dragon scales, which I think were intended to serve as some sort of armor, were dislodged and bent backwards from the gashes. It took most of our remaining resources to get him back up to any sort of fighting condition. Even so, it went better than I feared it would after how we had struggled against nagas previously. There would be more of them ahead, though.

While we patched up our wounds, Aleae had gone exploring while her invisibility lasted. She guided us beyond the balconies through narrow carved-stone corridors, past little crevice-like tunnels that only kobold-sized creatures could traverse. Maybe Simel in his distorted “king of the kobolds” guise could attempt it. (Why he was still wearing that guise after the kobolds we encountered were dead or fled, I don’t know. To be honest, it’s a little unsettling.)

We had to travel single-file. I was close to the rear, and at first could only listen to what the others said about where we emerged. The room was large, but we emerged into a narrow tunnel of bars approaching a cage (also entirely barred) taking up the center of the room. The cage had four doors, the one in front of us and across attached to barred tunnels, the side doors opening to the rest of the room. Dense fog blocked our vision beyond the bars. It smelled like incense. Familiar? Talor’s chamber had a similar smell, but this was more sinister and with a musky quality to it.

Not for one moment was actual treasure
suspected to occupy the chest.

A chest sat in the middle the cage, and none of us ventured to suggest opening it.

Magnus and I tried to bend the bars, but they were unyielding. Cypher unlocked the first door, checked for traps, and felt it safe to enter. A few of us did. Clarion sensed the presence of undead in one half of the room and took up a vigil, but they weren’t moving—had they not detected us? Unlikely.

From a certain point in the central cage a strange contraption could be seen against the wall opposite from the undead in a section of the chamber beyond the bars not obscured by the fog. It was akin to both a sculpture and a suit of armor: a series of plates and pipes welded to the wall, naga-sized, and very much occupied. We were certain that it was Arafin, whom we sought, for a female head with bronze skin and long hair was exposed. It was evident she was imprisoned within the serpentine armor. Aleae attempted to communicate with her, but she couldn’t speak and could only blink yes/no. Her answers weren’t particularly helpful.

It was right to suspect we were being watched. Once four of us (not counting Rungo perched on the wall of bars) were in the central cage, the enemy sprang the trap. A voice from the mist barked a spell, the chest flew open, and down became up.

We dropped toward the ceiling, which rose forty feet above us—suddenly below us! Aleae broke our fall with a quickly-enacted featherfall spell, so we floated up past Rungo, whose wall-clinging ability made her immune to gravity's reversal. Still in the barred tunnel, only Simel and Magnus remained fixed to the ground.

At Cypher’s command, the homunculus climbed down (up?) the wall and shut the chest, but the spell didn’t fade. Disoriented and unable to see our opponents, I had the feeling whatever happened next wasn’t going to end well.

#105 - Stalagmites and Stalactites

From the Analects of Simel, veteran of Karrnath 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

This was no place to rest.

The burnt and blasted bodies of the gnolls, the undead orcs, the skeletal minotaur, and Halbazar lay, not where they had fallen, but where fire and ice had tossed them. The air thick with smoke and spent magics. We were, none of us, ready to face a new threat, but we had made too much noise and needed to make haste.

Cypher immediately began to recover Rungo from the ceiling where she had been stranded when Magnus's mace-powered ice storm had incapacitated her. Magnus, who seemed to have finally come to appreciate reach during battle, took the best gnoll bow he could find. I collected the salvageable arrows and stowed all I could carry in my pack. Wynn, who had been the target of a disproportionate amount of undead aggression, consumed healing potions and steeled herself for worse than what we had already seen.

During this process, a swarm of bats came screeching into the cave from one of the tunnels—the one in the direction of our primary foes—and seemed to divide in two. One group exited the tunnel toward an alleged chasm Talor had spoken of; the other exited in the direction we were going, toward the nagas. We didn't know what to think of this event.

Aww, c'mon.
This kobold surely wouldn't
hurt a fly,

We formed a single file and advanced down a rough stone passageway toward what we believed would be the prison of Arafin the Guardian Naga. Aleae and I led the column since we could see the best in the darkness, she with her eladrin eyes and me with my treasured night goggles. After a short march we came to a naturally-shaped cavern filled as far as we could see with stalagmites, scattered bones, and three natural wells. A particularly large stalagtite jutted from the ground at the opposite end elevated by a ramp, with two small humanoid bodies prone before it. The ground looked like it had once been filled with stalagmites but they'd been long cleared away.

Given a cave filled with the remains of the dead and our previous experience with deadly tentacled cave beasts that wore the shape of innocent cave features, none of us were ready to advance. I loosed two arrows at the large stalagmite formation to no effect. When I noticed that at least one of the small humanoids was still breathing, Aleae attempted to send a magical message of assistance in the Draconic tongue into its mind.  It took that opportunity to spring to its feet and dash up the ramp behind the giant stalagmite, revealing itself to be a kobold and very much alive and well.  Convinced that they intended to bait us in, I shot arrows at the second kobold and Aleae finished him with an icy blast.

"No, I'm totally a regular stalagmite."

If we were about to face a tribe of kobolds, I would give them something to think about. I altered the appearance, texture, and shape of my body, assuming a kobold-like form. While I could not reduce my stature to that of a true kobold, I would at least appear to them to be a giant of their kind. I should probably have informed my companions of my strategy as they are not yet used to my changes and were startled.

We were unwilling to test the dangers that awaited us in the cavern just yet. Magnus and Clarion both prepared magics of different sorts. I have never before seen the kind of ritual Magnus performed, but it seemed wise not to interrupt his meditation. After some ten minutes Magnus emerged from his inner world to tell us that he sensed that the chamber was filled with creatures shaped as stalactites—but not actual stalactites—and one large stalagmite beast hidden behind a bend in the wall. As one who can pretend to be what he is not, I could not fault them this strategy.

The suspicious formation at the end of the cavern was what it appeared—mere stone—but behind it was an exit tunnel. Much beyond that he couldn't ascertain as the natural stone of the tunnel gave way to crafted stonework which blocked his sight. I had only heard of earthly magics of this sort, but had been surprised to find my barbarous companion enact it himself.

With a clear picture of the dangers ahead sketched by Magnus and wary of the immobilizing tentacles we would surely face, Aleae volunteered to go first. With her ability to teleport short distances, an immobilizing tentacle would be less dangerous to her. She sprinted the length of the cave, dodging several stalactites that plunged from above and landing with organic thuds. The rest of us followed her path, avoiding being impaled by the the smaller cousins of the large stalagmite creature that came into view at last, tentacles whipping towards us. Aleae, Clarion, and Cypher were entwined by the sticky tendrils and held fast, then reeled in quickly after.

"Hi. I am, I believe, what the kids call a mofo."

I ran directly into the beast, smashing it with my shield. While my own strength would have been insufficient to the task, my shield's dwarven magic knocked the creature to the lip of one of the pits. I realized my mistake as my entwined comrades were dragged toward the pit with the toothy tentacled horror. If I had been more successful in my effort to push it fully into the pit, I am afraid my friends would have found out just how deep it was.

The creature's high pitched screeches didn't fit its rocky demeanor as its tentacles and body absorbed our blows. Seeing an opportunity, I stabbed at the beast's maw, but lost my footing. It clamped down, pulling my rapier from my hand. Switching to my bow I manage to plant an arrow deeply in its single livid eye.

"Okay, now this is a little awkward. No hard feelings?"

Cypher followed my arrow with a bolt from his armbow that discharged a dark energy into the creature, silencing it at last. The tentacles fell to the ground as the bulk of the creature sank into the pit. We were released, and quickly sprinted the remaining distance up the ramp and out of the cave. It took some effort to avoid the remaining the stalactite creatures above, which slowly shifted about in an effort to drop down directly above their prey. Those that had already hit the ground wriggled slowly, working their way back towards the wall, unable to attack again.

I would not leave without my rapier, so Cypher had Rungo retrieved it for me before we advanced up the continuation of the tunnel that had led us to this cavern.

After only a short distance the rough hewn tunnel smoothed before opening into a larger chamber of worked stone. Two more pits opened on either side of the walkway, while steps up to a door were flanked by a sort of raised balcony. Two more thresholds on either side of us led off into darkness.

I had hoped we would find a place to rest here, but before we could discuss our options a purple-black serpentine form slithered into view on one of the balconies above. This might have been one of the nagas we had encountered yesterday. If so, it had found time to rest as we had in Talor's chamber.

The naga looked disdainfully down upon us with its too-humanlike face. Then it spoke.

#104 - Halbazar the Infernal

From the Analects of Simel, veteran of Karrnath 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

A fireball looks different from the inside.

A moments distraction searching for ammunition scattered about the charred remains of the gnolls was rewarded most unpleasantly. Even as I registered a chuckle from the darkness above, I found myself as the clapper inside a giant bell of blinding light and pain. I ran forward, squinting against the heat and brilliance, calling out for my companions to scatter, but couldn't hear my own words through the sound that had taken residence in my head. Despite the pain, it was obvious I had avoided the brunt of the blast. Magnus and Wynn had occupied its center, but neither were felled.

My bow at the ready, I scanned for the source of the attack and found two shadowy creatures scuttling down different walls of the cavern, their bulk belied by their speed. While I felt joy at having targets to punish for this latest unpleasantness and immediately loosed arrows at one, it was clear that they were not the source of the fireball. They showed no great intelligence or predisposition to “chuckling." Instead, they hurried towards us, mouths agape with prominent tusk-fangs gnashing openly, as if we were a long postponed meal. They were orcs but moved and fought like no living orcs I've seen.

None of my companions seemed in the mood to oblige the slavering beasts' hunger and ran to engage them. Magnus and Wynn both attacked my target and we rapidly ended the twisted orc-thing. Wynn, who was either familiar with the beasts’ vulnerabilities or, showing a disturbing window into her character, removed its head from its body with her partisan and kicked it some distance away.

Clarion and Aleae had engaged the other, and while I was not focused on their confrontation, Clarion appeared to interpose himself between his companion and their foe's slashing claws more than once.

"Don't worry, Magnus, you will die last," spat a voice from above from our fire-slinging chuckler. I would come to know that voice as that of Halbazar—erstwhile companion of Magnus and Cypher—but for now it was only confirmation that our attacker was not just concealed, but invisible. Cypher and Rungo used the cover of our combat to try to locate the unseen heckler, which, despite being the target of his attacks, they continued to do most methodically.

Aleae, once free of her opponent, guessed at Halbazar's location and unleashed a storm of ice which seemed to do him harm before she dashed out of sight. For several long moments as the battle progressed, it was clear that our enemy was a sorcerer and he dogged Aleae more than any of us: a dark wave of energy coursed into her from and she was forced to conjure her spell-shield against at least one blast. Even Cypher, who had continually searched for Halbazar, must have been targeted by a spell: the warforged stopped quite suddenly, briefly frozen in place.

His orc-dogs dispatched, Halbazar finally appeared, clinging to the ceiling as he uttered words which became a dazzling spectrum of lovely lights. And in that moment, it dawned on me: Halbazar was a friend, wasn't he? I had heard Magnus say as much once. Why I had not understood that earlier baffled me. He would protect us. There was no justification for this fight. I saw him standing there on the cavern ceiling, a human in nobleman's garb. Yes, he had been forced into a defensive vantage because we had persisted in attacking him.

I felt a joy at seeing him, the sort I have only felt when witnessing the life forcibly leave a Blood of Vol disciple. I smiled, and Wynn smiled back. Magnus smiled, I smiled back. I think they understood the folly of our actions, too, and stayed their hands. The dazzling colors continued to swirl about my field of vision like an afterimage of rational thought. They were so very lovely!

But Aleae was being unreasonable again. Even as she has fought with Cypher, she exchanged blasts of acid with Halbazar. Halbazar's ribs showed through his blasted chest and he was clearly pained by the devastating magic. Why would she do that?

Then Aleae strode up to me and struck me with her staff. WHY?!

Oh. Halbazar was no friend.

Understanding, I hurried to Magnus and punched him (it hurt me more than him), and I began to loose my arrows at Halbazar now that he was both visible and stationary. Rungo, still clinging to the ceiling like an insect, sprinter over and attacked the undead human. Magnus, shaken from the same spell of enchantment, bellowed what may not have been words and ran to the ground forty feet directly beneath Halbazar. He slammed his massive bone-mace to the ground and another ice storm erupted around him that reached to the ceiling engulfing both Halbazar and Rungo. I did not realize Magnus could conjure spells like this—least of all with his weapon.

Blasted by the ice and wind Halbazar fell to the cavern floor at Magnus's feet, moving pitifully. A living man might have broken bones from such a fall, but this was no living man—yet the spells had devastated his body. He said something too low for me to hear, seeming to appeal to Cypher, who had just run to his side. I advanced with my silver dagger out, fully intending to test Wynn's strategy by sawing the man's head from his torn body. Cypher staid my hand.

"Wait," Cypher said.

I turned away. "He was your friend, deal with him as you will."

Magnus pushed by me and, despite Cypher's protestations, separated Halbazar's head and body with one stroke. Magnus held the acid and ice-burned skull to eye level and screamed…  I am not sure what he screamed, but it was heartfelt.

A short while later, Magnus wore Halbazar's head on his belt. Bereft of flesh, the blackened human skull now rested beside a somewhat smaller, elvish skull. Oh yes, I remember the female vampire creature from a battle in the halls above. That was days ago, wasn't it?

I haven't been moved to ask Magnus why he is wearing their skulls.

#103 - Blessings, Warnings, and Fireballs

Excerpt from the Cypher's Codex: The Scrawlings of a Warforged Scholar — Zarantyr 23rd, 999 YK

After a period of cessation, where those among us who required sleep did so, Talor spoke with us about the object that he guarded—and whether we should be allowed to see or know what it was at all. While I argued that we should all benefit from more knowledge, he had concerns that were difficult to dispute. The "disunity" of our group, as he called it, was one. Another was the symbol that Magnus and I bear of the Shadow in our hands. For Simel and Wynn, neither had quests necessarily aligned with ours.

Ultimately, Talor revealed this information only with Clarion and Aleae by escorting them down the stairway into the lower chamber. When they returned, Clarion spoke, saying he agreed with Talor's concerns that knowing what the object is was risky.

But it was important, and he said it gave him greater resolve to contest our existing enemies.

Then Talor offered each of us a divine blessing before we continued on our journey. He warned us that we would be required to submit to his deep insight once again in front of the entire party, but added that he understood if we declined. Making choices of one's own volition were important to him.

Magnus jumped at the opportunity before anyone else. Talor led him to one of the chamber's alcoves where we saw the reflective wall fall away to reveal another scene of our companion's past. In it, we perceived an adolescent Magnus, adorned with only a few of his tattoos at this stage of his creation. There was another young Bringer of Fire with him on a beach, along with the disabled—if not dead—bodies of many other Serens. It became clear that these were the remnants of a great battle between the Stormwalkers and the Bringers of Fire. Magnus's companions went to deliver a permanently disabling blow upon one of the unconscious Stormwalkers and we saw Magnus physically prevent the action from taking place. Evidently  At that point the vision faded away...

Then Talor spoke to him about personal experiences. "Men such as this dragonspeaker, Solashan, whom you did not kill, is but a puppet. Dangerous, perhaps, but he would have been replaced by another even if you had ended him. Your soul, however, remains untarnished for the event. Renounce the guilt. Instead, remember that much more is at stake than your tribe. You cannot grasp the true severity of the rise of even one of the great rakshasa rajahs." Indicating Magnus's bone mace, he said, "It is no accident that this ancient weapon came into the hands of the Seren who went abroad to find solutions. Wield the Defiler’s Bane not for the Bringers of Fire, not for Seren, not even for Lucerix—that old red can hold his own—but for the outlanders, for the innocents of Khorvaire and lands beyond. This impacts them all. I do not know if you are to resurrect the Winter Coalition, or to become it, but you must take part in it. They were an elite force, and more importantly, the only active agency opposing Katashka’s influence for ages."

Talor was familiar with the rajah, Katashka, of whom we'd heard before on several occasions. Then he bestowed a divine infusion upon Magnus's weapon by touching his glowing sword to it. Both weapons flared brightly.

Having seen the great magic infused in Magnus's mace, Simel stepped up next. We saw another similar scene to that which we encountered when he stepped through the misty room earlier. In it, Simel was on a forest ridge in human guise and with blood on his hands and in a Karnnathi military uniform. His commanding officer was a priest of the Blood of Vol, judging by his uniform and vestments. Simel shouted out that enemies were approaching and we saw utter confusion amongst the ranks as Simel began to loose arrows rapidly across a ravine. The other soldiers followed his lead blindly. Then we observed Simel, quietly but indisputably, shot several of his arrows carefully into the neck of the priest as well, killing him. It might have been easily mistaken for friendly fire in the tumult. Then the vision faded.

Before bestowing Simel's rapier with energy, Talor spoke to him directly. “I know that your purpose is unclear. But know that Katashka, the demon against which your companions must contest, is the author of undeath in this world. He is the reason the founders of the Cult of Vol experimented with necromancy in the first place."

Looking askance at Wynn as well, he went on. "Understand that I find the practice of your kinsmen in Karrnath abhorrent; I saw it myself during your petty war. Raising the honorable dead into the mockery of unlife is a sin; each time, the act gives tribute to Katashka. It is ignorant, at best, for there are many without evil in their hearts who study such blasphemies. But at times, the reasons for doing so are just, if not well-advised. I would counsel you to redirect your vengeance. What became of those dear to you is horrible. But it will also become commonplace if Khorvaire is ruled by Katashka. Do not let him rise.”

One of the fabled feyspires
of Thelanis, the Faerie Court.

Aleae's vision was very clearly of a royal court of her people; at the Carnival of Shadows, the Lady Amarillis made mention to Aleae of the Rose Queen. I assume that is her liege. There were throngs of somber, formally dressed eladrin standing before a small but ornate throne, and the eladrin queen was speaking. Though we could not hear her words, she seemed to be entreating them. Then we saw Aleae push through the crowd and lay down her Nightsong Blade before her Queen and give a deep bow. The gesture gave the impression that she was volunteering for something. The queen smiled and the vision faded.

To Aleae, Talor gave this counsel. “Your people are a bright and artistic race, but many of them are in peril now, bound to this world of mortals. I understand what it is to remain trapped in so dismal a place. Wonder lies within you in particular, eladrin—and danger, and fear. You are very quick to anger. Yet you are no child, not as these others are; find wisdom in tolerance and patience. I would also counsel you to be honest with your companions. If you trust them with your life, as you do Clarion Tritone, then trust them with your heart. The anger that lies between you and Cypher will flourish the longer you contend with demons, I promise you. As for your homeland, tell your queen that the power of the Mourning is rooted in five planes; if she knows that one of the feyspires binds the rest in its grasp, perhaps it, and those responsible, can be located.”

Yes, the five planes. Before we had rested, Talor had spoken some words about the Mourning, for that is why Aleae had come to find him. I understood that her concern for the Mourning was less about the damage it has wrought upon the Five Nations and more about her people's exile.

Talor had said that even in his homeland, not all was known. But it was believed by his people that the Mourning was orchestrated by several prakhutu—the greatest servants of the demon Overlords. But it could not have been achieved by them alone. Mortals of Eberron must have been complicit. Talor did not know who they were or if they are even living or dead now.

Yet he insisted that the agencies behind the Mourning had "rooted" its creation in fve of the outer planes. If the bonds to these five planes were to be severed, the Mourning could lose its strength. Talor said it could not be reversed, but its grip on Eberron could be broken. Perhaps, then, nature would reclaim the land and heal the wounds.

The five planes are:

• Dolurrh, the Realm of the Dead
• Shavarath, the Battleground
• Kythri, the Churning Chaos
• Thelanis, the Faerie Court
• Dal Quor, the Region of Dream

It was much to think about. When Talor was finished with Aleae, I inquired with Wynn as to her trepidations with accepting Talor's blessing. She had indicated that she alone among us would not accept his magic and I wanted to understand why she would turn down an opportunity for such a powerful weapon enhancement. I explained to her that even I had nothing in my arsenal of arcane powers that could infuse such a blessing upon her partisan for a full day. She seemed anxious about the magic permanently affecting her weapon, for which I saw no reason to be concerned.  But also she feared taking the Angel's blessing could somehow compromise her existing loyalties. Moreover, she did not believe Talor was necessarily what he claimed to be: an angel.

Clarion stepped forward next, perhaps to allay some of Wynn's fears or perhaps he had become impatient with her indecision—even I have difficulty determining his meaning when he does not speak.

A bone knight of Karrnath.

His vision began immediately with the clamor of combat. Aundairian soldiers were in a losing battle against Karnnathi forces and we saw a Karrnathi bone night viciously engaging three young Aundarians. We notice the polearm the bone knight was wieding was, in fact, the very partisan that Wynn carries! Clarion consistently puts his own body between the bone knight and the young soldiers, clearly trying to protect them. But all four of them were clearly outclassed by the bone knight's martial skill. The situation looked desperate. Finally in a maneuver to protect the others, Clarion interposed and placed his body squarely in the path of the partisan, impaling himself fully. We saw the light in his gemstone eyes fade away. So devastating was the wound that I would have judged it permanent disablement. The vision faded.

Wynn and Clarion stared at each other in silence for a while before Talor addressed Clarion. "Clarion Tritone. You are not the wandering soul that you once were but you cannot sever your past actions or thoughts. You may never be free of the thoughts of bloodshed and violence, but you can counter them. Demonstrate mercy for every dark thought, carry out an act of peace for every act of violence. I cannot speak to the truths of Dol Arrah, but the light of her faith is strong even in my homeland. You alone must represent the power of the Host in your allies’ quests against Katashka. Without it they will grow weak and fail in the end. It took innumerable dragons to bind the great rajahs, for the Overlords are the stronger. But the gods are stronger still.”

Perhaps having seen the blinding truth of Talor's visions first hand, Wynn at last stepped forward. Talor asked her pointedly, as he had Magnus, what she believed he was. She answered that she "didn't know anymore." He was satisfied with this. But she demanded reassurances from Talor that this blessing would not interfere with her oath to king and country. He assured her that no commitments or courses of actions were to be placed upon her, only counsel.

In her vision, we saw her climbing through a battlement in the wake of a great battle while a storm raged above her. She was looking among fallen soldiers and broken stones, uncaring of the fury of the roiling storm. Wynn at least found and pulled a dead female soldier, another Karrn, from a tangle of rock and corpses, and she looked saddened. Then the vision faded to a future time. The battlements had been repaired entirely using skeletal remains—whose it was unclear. We saw Wynn on sentry duty, and she stopped at a particular skull in the wall and stared at it. The vision faded.

Before bestowing her partisan with his magic, Talor addressed her directly. “Your family is…complicated. But there is honor there, and it will be tested. Foremost in you. The spear you carry is very old. It is fashioned with white ironwood, a tree native to Risia, the Plane of Ice, but has been known to grow as well in the Frostfell beyond the Bitter Sea. The only ones skilled in such craft are the eladrin of the Winter Citadel. That you have carried it here, and that you have met these others who travel with weighty quests, tells me that you were meant to. It is my  belief that your weapon is a sister in purpose to the one carried by Magnus and bears a legacy of prophecy. Even in the hands of the ignorant, it has serves that legacy in unexpected ways."

Talor looked at Clarion as he said this last part. Then he went on. "The spear should not be used to kill men and women who merely defend their homelands. It should be used to slay fiends. My counsel to you is join the Winter Coalition, or else to relinquish the spear to them. Become worthy of this weapon.”

Although I am most intrigued by Talor's divine magic, and I would never pass up an opportunity to gain some insight into my past or my possessions, I was a little reluctant to accept his blessing myself. I have been relying so heavily on my armbow lately that I didn't think blessing the Tongue of Hrasta would be of much use. I couldn't pass up the knowledge, however, and I stepped forward.

Immediately I knew the vision he conjured for me. Many years ago during the Last War I was, of course, fighting for Breland in the Engineers Brigade. My duty was to set traps and explosives and, perhaps more importantly, locate and disarm those placed before my countrymen. At the Battle of Brey Crossing I was tasked with clearing the bridge of traps in order to allow our main forces to push forward, enabling them to reunite with King Boranel and Three who were trapped on the other side of the river. With no time to properly handle the explosives and King Boranel's life at dire risk, I made a carefully calculated dash onto the bridge, setting off all of the traps at once, but disabling myself in the process. I would not be found and repaired for two full days after the battle concluded.

Talor said, “Though all lands are threatened by Katashka, Lord of Undeath, your nation in particular may be the most immediately imperiled. Whatever it is that Avashad plans to do with his device, it is on Breland soil that it will be unleashed. I do not feel I can appeal to your sense of justice, but I will appeal to your national loyalty. Your king desired peace even when his father did not.”

He also reminded me about something I had forgotten and thought little of. "Not long ago, you traded an object of...value...to a night hag in exchange for information. This you should not have done—in Droamm you were all naive about your allies. Know this: The hag now uses the object as a focus to haunt the dreams of the child who treasured it. Already a homeless refugee living in the slums of Sharn, now she is plagued by these nightmares and has withdrawn into herself and will not speak to her father. She is growing ill for lack of nutrition. It would be the right thing to do to correct the situation." I do not understand how Talor knows these things, but Elidac said he came from Syrania, the Azure Sky, the plane of air that allows Sharn's lofty towers to exist through the use of a manifest zone. Perhaps some of his insight comes from this connection.

He also warned me about my armbow, which took on new properties when I drew the Ruin card from the Deck of Many Things. He said that it was infused with a spirit from Mabar, the plane of darkness and negative energy and that it could, with usage, corrupt me with its influence.

The DM's Third Person Accounting and Narration

Before the party had rested in Clarion's abode, Clarion experimented with a new spell his faith in Dol Arrah had given him: Find Steed. Summoning a celestial spirit from Irian, the plane of Eternal Day, he found that it took the form of a female destrier of vivid blue and green color. The mare was large and strong, strong enough to bear his weight when the time was right. Clarion knew immediately that her name was Amatrix, after the gemstone, and she approached him and telekinetically expressed her delight at meeting him. Their bond was extent.

Look, an amatrix! It's perty!

Aleae, while instinctively pleased at the beauty of Clarion's new friend, may have muttered under her breath something about not having a unicorn of her own.

After resting and taking both counsels and blessings with Talor, the angel took the opportunity to remind the party of the nature of their enemies:

Katashka is one of the great rakshasa rajahs, demon Overlords bound in powerful slumber far beneath the surface of the world. Although their numbers are unknown, it has been speculated that twenty or thirty such rajahs exist, but every one of them was bound in dragonshards in the depths of Khyber by the collective effort of dragons and couatls long ago, marking the end of the Age of Demons. The rajahs are godlike in their power, and the awakening of even one of these mighty beings would be disastrous to all civilizations. As the first children of Khyber herself (according to the myths), each of the rajahs personified a great force of evil in the world. It is said that even the mere stirrings of one of these dread fiends in slumber carries consequences on the world above it. Some lore-keepers have speculated, for example, that it was the slight rousing of Rak Tulkhesh, the rajah of rage, war, and hatred, that inspired the aggression in Galifar that led to the start of the Last War.

For Katashka, it is nothing less than undeath itself, the perversion and repurposing of a mortals' passage from life to death, that threatens all. That is why so many undead creatures have numbered among the minions of Avashad, a shapechanging rakshasa and the prakhutu of this rajah.

Talor said this: “Understand this: The longer you endure against the servants of Katashka and Avashad the more valuable you will become to him. Do not always expect violence to be made against you, and do not think you can achieve victory against him with violence alone. He is a demon of the First Order and has a patience that you with your brief lives cannot appreciate.

"If you have proven an obstacle, then Avashad will at some point will no longer attempt to slay you...but use you. Be wary if you are too successful, for that may well play into his hands. When you meet little resistance from him, be wary.”

“Releasing a demon rajah is not like sundering a lock or forcing open a door. It is delicate work, like solving a puzzle box of antiquated design. Think of your enemy not as a warrior, but a sage...who employs thieves, assassins, spies, and mercenaries. Avashad will not lead armies against this land or try to win with force of arms; any show of force is likely to be a distraction. His true aim is to tease apart the strands of prophecy, to find the precise sequence needed to—as you say it—crack the code and free Katashka, the Prince of Undeath, upon the world. If that happens, not a host of my kind will suffice to contain the ruin. That is what you are up against, and it is likely you have borne witness to some of this unraveling. I assure you, it began centuries ago."

Nagas are said to have the bodies
of snakes but humanlike heads.

Talor provided a stylistic map to show the party where to go to seek Avashad's servants directly in the dungeons of Glyphstone (above where they were now). Trazzen, a hobgoblin vampire who was once the governor of the city of Paluur Draal in the Dhakaani Empire, had been "installed" in Glyphstone to carry out a project on his master's behalf. Talor said that if the PCs could remove him and destroy his project, it would ease the threat against Talor himself and the secret object he guarded. It might even allow him to return to his home plane and find other means of protecting. But for now, he dared not walk away from his vigil.

Alternatively, Talor's map indicated another passage they could take that would lead them to where a potential ally could be found, along with the sceptre of Glyphstone itself. Nagas, a race of intelligent, immortal serpents had laired in Glyphstone after it fell in the Age of Monsters. Benevolent guardian nagas and malevolent spirit nages fought over the chambers and treasures of Glyphstone. Earlier, the PCs had encountered a pair of dark nagas who might have been aligned with these.

But the coming of Avashad a few years ago had resulted in the capture of two of the more powerful guardian nagas, Arafin and Loravin. Loravin, the male, was slain and taken by Avashad's minions to be transformed into something undead. Arafin, the female, was given over to the spirit nagas as a permanent captive. Talor believes Arafin would be a valuable ally, if she were freed.

So the party said farewell to Talor and set out, seeking the nagas. When they followed the correct passage up to a nexus cavern, they found a skeletal minotaur and a group of gnolls idling there. A fireball blast from Aleae immolated the gnolls; the only one that had survived was quickly put down by one of Simel's arrows.

When the minotaur was destroyed, the rest of the party entered the cavern to investigate further.

And then an ominous chuckle in the darkness above preceded a fireball loosed into their midst.

#102 - Of Quests and Questions

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

This was one beat up angel. Talor was not much help as we mashed and mauled and stabbed and shot our way against his foe.

The screaming collection of smoky, screaming heads seemed resistant, if not impervious, to our weapons and magic. Spewing a noxious cloud that divided the room, and our efforts, we were hard-pressed to bring it down.

That is, until Clarion got involved with some divine magic, which lit up his staff like a dragon's breath. His radiant light was the most effective thing we had and soon Cypher infused his weapons with radiant magic and the foe took a fall and was soon vanquished.

Just as the vortex of black vapor began to sink, wisplike, to the ground, it reached into Claron directly, and we watched as Clarion invoked a spell that hurt Wynn without even touching her. I'd seen him do this before, but this time he'd levied it against her. Fortunately, the effect passed quickly and he did not speak of it, nor did Wynn address the matter with him.

Then the screaming and the darkness dispersed, shattering like ice.

Talor had done some healing for us during the battle, but he seemed unable—or unwilling—to strike the foe. He had hurled a column of holy fire as I had seen Kard do once, but the effort knocked the angel himself to the ground.

As we gathered ourselves after the fight, I got a better look at the chamber. Ragged fathers and charred pieces of metal armor lay all about. Talor despite his obvious size and strength was indeed in no condition to fight. Or fight well. He advised us that he had been guarding something below us for a long time and without our help he might have been bested by whatever that was that Clarion had just defeated. Throughout all that he said, he seemed more concerned about failure in his duty than about personal defeat.

As we talked, Talor revealed that he was not going to recover from his wounds, not while he remained in this world. Yet he was not going to leave this place, and his "vigil," that he would stand guard until all his strength was gone. I was not sure if he meant death or something else. He seemed to suggest that this time of failing could be near at hand. Always he was vague. We asked what it was that he guarded so dearly, willing to sacrifice his near-immortal life to guard.

He acknowledged that we had aided him, and that very few others had come to him before this day. He said that he desired to reveal to us that which he would show no other. He had concerns, however, in the trust and the unity of our party. For one, he had noticed the Shadow-marks that Cypher and I bore on our hands.

While in Droaam, Cypher and I—and our former companions, Doongul, Xoma, and Rendar, had been in an arena match: A popular spectator sport in that city of Graywall known as Six Stones. Seven had entered the arena, as well as a basilisk, and the one that survived and was not turned to stone, was the winner. We had entered that contest "sponsored" by Zerasha, a medusa priestess of the Shadow. Going in, the party, as it was then, agreed that turning to stone was acceptable, and that the medusa would be bound to bring us back, which she did. When we awakened in our normal state, we all noticed that the symbol of the Shadow had been carved into our stone hands (a more crippling wound if done in the flesh), now just a strange brand. For myself, it was just another scar. I forget it's even there until someone points it out.

Having spent so much time in Droaam and dealing with the Shadow, we put it aside as part of the cost of our adventures. Talor suggested that the mark represented a link and that it could be used to make us take actions or reveal information against our will. He reminded us that the Shadow was known as the Sovereign of Magic and Mayhem, though I have never been convinced that any gods exist beyond the ascended dragons of old. Nevertheless, I have seen divine power wielded by Doongul, and Kard, and now Clarion. And, I suppose, even this angel. The dragons of old have gifted many, it seems, with a measure of their power.

As Talor explained his concerns about the Shadow, I understood that Cypher and I were not trustworthy with secrets of great value, we could be compromised. He assured us that servants of the Shadow are not true allies. Talor proved that he was also aware of other influences that beset me. He is not wrong. I have earned the attention, the "enmity" as he calls it, of a devil. The outcomes of the Deck of Many Things have not yet all been revealed.

I told Talor that I understood his concerns and that I would be willing to remain ignorant of the information. The rest of the party had many questions yet (some about our adventures, some about the marks) but they seemed willing to let us stay above while they received the information. If that is our course. While this went on, I asked if we could rest here, and sleep, and re-fortify ourselves, and Talor said that we would be safe here.

Talor also offered to tell us the exact location of Governor Trazzen or he would tell us where we may find the Scepter of Glyphstone of the keep. Irakas, the hobgoblin woman who had escorted us to the keep and remained in the throne room somewhere far above us, had told us of this scepter.  She would use it to gain a rulers knowledge of all chambers in the keep and could then aid us in our quest to kill Trazzen—to "cleanse this place” as Clarion so ardently desired.

I feel like we have lost fights with Trazzen before and that we should seek every advantage to make sure he dies when we meet again. I do value the idea of returning the scepter to Irakas as a means of restoring the order and rightful rule to Glyphstone Keep.  She could do it and we should aid her as a means of aiding ourselves. The group continued talking as I sat down and began to prepare myself to sleep. The newcomer, Wynn, has expressed much doubt about the things that have been said, and has repeatedly called into the question the truth that Talor is an angel. Whatever. She will learn. But I do not think any of us doubt her courage and skill at arms. Both may be needed.

Tomorrow. Much more may be resolved, or at least better understood, when I awake.

#101 - Toothy Crowns and Fallen Feathers

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar
Zarantyr, 999 YK, part four

I hoped that going last through the mist meant no one would see what it projected when I passed through, but the exit was a wall of mist identical to the entrance. No one spoke for several minutes. Then Simel broke the silence and proposed we forget what we had seen. Simel the changeling. More than one of his secrets had been revealed by the mist. No one seemed satisfied with that answer, least of all Magnus. He wanted to talk through it, ascertain the truth of the visions. Too introspective for a barbarian.

So we talked. Magnus failed to kill a man who later subjugated his people. Simel tortured a member of the Emerald Claw. Those borderline-traitors have none of my sympathy, but I have only seen torture that severe and so dispassionately conducted a few times in my life, and I would rather have seen none of them.

Changelings are subtle shapeshifters

capable of disguising their appearance.

Old stories suggest they formed from

the union of doppelgangers and

humans, eventually becoming a separate

race distinct from either ancestral tree.

They do not possess the full shapechanging

ability of a doppelganger, but they

can create effective disguises at will. 

This ability makes them consummate

spies and criminals, and many

changelings live up to that potential.

— some gnomish scholarly

monograph at the

Library of Korrenburg

The warforged Clarion also committed crimes against a Karnn, executing and dismembering a crippled, surrendering soldier to fiddle with his bones like a child attempting, and failing, to piece together a broken toy. It was all the more disturbing coming from an impassive, seven-foot construct.

Aleae as a child killed another child and then concealed the crime. It was her behavior after the death that shocked me the most, but Simel praised her for quick thinking. It seemed I had less in common with this Karrn than I had thought. I have had minimal dealings with changelings; I would be lying if I said this didn't present a negative impression. Aleae had a secret like Simel's to hide: she wasn't an elf, but an Eladrin—an unfamiliar word and race t me, but somehow still analogous to an elf. An elf from the faerie realms beyond Eberron, like in children's stories. Now the unicorn manifestation earlier makes a little more sense. A little. Perhaps this also explains why I can't read her expressions. She's not even from this world.

Cypher claimed not to remember much about his crime. I am not certain in what city he had planted explosives or what building he destroyed. It might have been residential or it might have been state property, but I am certain there were at least some civilians within. It made me wonder how many innocents he destroyed during the Last War, denying them a fair fight.

I can claim ignorance for my crime, that the slaughter of Cyran soldiers and refugees on the Day of Mourning was conducted without knowledge of the country's total destruction. But we knew—I knew—that something was wrong that day, and that those we killed weren't the competent, well-armed, and hostile Cyran company we had expected. The Mourning did enough devastation that day without my interference.

When Magnus was satisfied with our discussion, we rested. The contrast of the two warforged drew my attention. From what little I had seen of Clarion, I got the impression he harbored a great capacity for emotion, at least for a warforged. He spent the rest period in prayer. In contrast, Cypher appeared unaffected by the weight of what we had seen. He insisted on checking everyone's equipment and making repairs, unaware that we all wanted to be left alone. I was unwilling to break the silence to explain and eventually gave in.

We progressed. The room beyond the hall was circular, floor splattered with old blood stains, mostly old but one fresh puddle near the center next to a chest-high stone pedestal. On it sat a horrid crown, constructed of downward facing fangs longer than my fingers and as thick as crossbow bolts.

A portcullis blocked our progression on the opposite side of the chamber, unrusted iron marked with silver, out-of-place for an ancient fortress. But then again, so was this clearly magical, untouched crown. After Cypher checked for traps, Aleae, Clarion, and Magnus approached the pedestal, while Simel and I explored the edges of the room.

Magnus called us stragglers forward, and we saw writing surrounding the crown. It fuzzed for a moment, as if my eyes couldn't focus on it at first. It read: Only the one who has sinned the worst must feel the bite of the Crown of Damnation. Once wounded, the gate will open. Something made me certain that if I spoke those words aloud, I would suffer terrible consequences. This place was filled with intrusive magic. The crown was in Aleae's hands before anyone could move—I couldn't stop her, though I was certain that a child's crime couldn't possibly fit the inscription. She tried to force it on her head, but it wouldn't touch, repelled by the force of her...well, not innocence. None of us claimed to be innocent.

One after another, we tried to wear the crown. It rejected each in turn. Though both my crime and guilt was real, after seeing it reject others, I felt little fear trying it myself.

Then Magus said...the words we should not say. I could tell that he was as aware of the prohibition against saying it as I was, but he said it fearlessly. The backlash struck him like a hammer, staggering him. But confirming that we all shared this knowledge didn't help.

We pondered and explored the room for another way out. I shot a bolt through the gate, toward distant light. I heard it ricochet off metal, and a backlit figure moved. Cypher and Aleae both cast spells at it. Aleae tried to communicate with it, but the little she did share of her attempted conversation made no sense to me. I was still too new to understand the complexities at work here.

I had gone far astray in my search for Garrick, but I was committed now. No one suggested going through the mist again.

Magnus struck the door with his bone mace, yelling "Once wounded, the gate will open!" Hah! I've spent enough time around wizards to know that literal thinking is well beyond them. This did not, of course, suffice, and the sound of bone and metal clanging together was jarring.

The barbarians of Seren are an enigmatic, savage people.

Eventually we decided that the crown wouldn't accept self-sacrifice—we had to select and condemn one of us. That was why the mist revealed our sins to each other.

It was another moment where designated leadership would have proven useful, someone with both the capacity and responsibility to make the choice and be done with it. But no, we had to dredge everything up again.

Magnus made a good argument for himself. His regret was honest, and from what he explained, a great many people are suffering because of his actions. Simel's crime came close. Unlike Clarion and Cypher, his crime wasn't conducted in war—the man he tortured was a fellow Karrn.

The words we said were different, but I know what most of us were thinking. The four of us from Khorvare, who had fought during the Last War, couldn't condemn one another without facing the magnitude of our own crimes. It had to be one of the outlanders, and no one could condemn Aleae for what she did as a child.

During the argument, Aleae said something to me that was deeply unsettling. That I had committed the greatest crime because I did not question my orders. Everyone else, she argued, made a choice and took action. By not allowing myself to think about what I did, I refused to even acknowledge that I was committing a terrible sin. My justification that I "didn't know" became further evidence of my crime, not an excuse. I felt further shame: the longer we waited the more desperately I did not want to wear that crown, and so said nothing.

Magnus's will won out. Aleae crowned him with the monstrosity. I feared it wouldn't work, and it would go on my head next. But in the next moment, I instead became certain that this object was no angelic creation. It allowed us to condemn the only one among us whose sin involved not killing.

The teeth of the crown touched Magnus's head and vanished. No blood. I had the beginning of a suspicion, one that grew over time, that this wasn't over.

I didn't hear the portcullis open, but when I looked, our passage was unbarred. Magnus could still walk, so we progressed.

This room was larger. The floor looked like it divided a perfect sphere, with stairs across the room leading into the lower hemisphere. Scraps of blackened armor and huge black-and-white feathers littered the floor and a strange, incense-like odor pervaded the space.

To the left, three people sat or lay on slabs of stone to the left, all human, all unknown to me. To the right stood the giant-sized figure of a man, looking down at us calmly. The light we had seen issued from its direction. I looked just long enough to see that it wore scraps of armor and had a backdrop of feathers—undeniably wings—and was filled with the overwhelming urge to look away.

The atmosphere demanded reverence. We entered silently and wandered each our own ways. I inspected the fallen armor and feathers, but when I reached out, the words Do not touch thundered quietly but with authority in my head. There was little doubt that they came from the being. Angel, Magnus called it. I was not so blind as to call it a mundane creature, but there was nothing holy in what we had just experienced. I did my best to ignore it.

Simel inspected alcoves in the walls. Clarion and Aleae approached the being and studied it. Magnus stood near the prone figures, seeming concerned.

He and the others discussed matters with the being that I did not understand. The man encased in ice, Kard, was evidently a mission for the being "beyond this world," somehow, and would die if he failed. That it did not explain further. The other man was the "Saleessh" I had heard of, the one who left the others shortly before they met me. He looked very little like Magnus but appeared equally foreign. He held the hand of an unconscious woman of his own tribe and looked deep in meditation. The woman looked ill: pale, sweating, feverish, caught in the throes of a nightmare. She was not on a death-quest for the being, but was called an "unknowing assassin" by the winged being. It said that she'd been sent here by the prakhutu (which I later learned meant something akin to "chief servant") of a...demon lord? She was able to pass through the challenges—such as the crown?—where neither this prakhutu nor its minions could.

The being said the woman harbored a monster within her somehow, and had been sent to interrupt the being's "vigil." It spoke of guarding something but would not say what, even when asked. The monster within her had been made dormant only. In the begin's words, "I have stayed the transformation, but I could not destroy it without destroying her." The being suggested that Sahlessh had been given a choice when he came here shortly before us: he could not stop the transformation, but he could save the woman's life by taking the monster into himself. The being then explained, again minimally, that once he did this, there would be no more suppression of the "assassin." It would overtake him.

I could make little sense of this, and was not sure how much I could believe. I wanted to object, to question, to call it out as a fraud, but I couldn't break the silence. There was magic in the air, and some part of me found it difficult to disbelieve the being's warning about the danger. Angels and demons I have no sense of, but monsters I can understand, and if there would be a fight I could participate with my own hands.

The beging promised that if we survived the coming destruction, it would share with us dangerous information. The others wanted that information, though I did not know why.

We waited and watched Sahlessh. I was surprised that no one, namely Simel, suggested cutting the man's throat. They seemed willing to take the words of the being at face value, but maybe there was some lingering affection for their erstwhile companion. Though I did not disbelieve that something would happen, it would have to reveal itself as a true monster before I would take action. Whether it was here for the being or not didn't matter if I felt that we were all in danger.

After only a few minutes, Salessh convulsed and began to scream even as his teeth and a great deal of vile black fluid erupted from his gaping mouth. Black vapor poured out of his body, as his body appeared to shrivel beneath it. The fumes warped into a huge cyclone of screaming skulls and emaciated faces. And many-jointed, razor-sharp claw arms.

We attacked.