#93 - Trials, Turmoil, and the Shield of Kard

As written by Kard Gelan, Cyran cleric of the Sovereign Host

By depressing the runed wall and heading up the magically darkened stairway, we found ourselves moving into the light of a candle and incense-filled hallway...

Second Level: Lukar of Thrane

The left-hand wall was filled with stained glass window depictions of the couatls, allies of dragons of old, with serpents wings colored in rainbow hues. From what I could tell, we must have been above ground, perhaps three levels, and I could discern lanterns in the street as it was night time; the vaulted architecture and ornamentation reminded me awfully of some kind of temple. Not a temple of the Host, however.

A large ornate door in front of us was blocked by two uniformed guards, and as we approached I began to notice the new attire we appeared to be wearing: like the previous phantasm we had encountered before, we were the same yet subtly different; we all bore the symbol of the Silver flame, and wore black, with brown and blue trim, with some gilt silver garments, much like the guards themselves. The iconography of the Silver Flame, although different to me, reassured me more that our purpose in this dreamscape must be of a righteous purpose, and that possibly we were in holy place of their order. Perhaps even in the cathedral of Flamekeep itself?

As we approach the guards my compatriots began conversation with them in earnest. Simel apologized for our lateness and Aleae even attempts to enchant one of the guards, with no seeming effect. I overheard the warforged among us discussing the validity of whether or not they should push their own independence, the timeframe not being set in our minds as it could have been during the war.

Our discussions continue as Simel and Aleae attempted o push past the guards once more, insisting that they were not here to wait and have urgent business to attend to. I found it to be interesting as we had no real understanding of our station. Clarion found himself to be in possession of a scroll of intricate work, that appeared to have information of a conversation between high-blooded people; a third of the way in the letter turned to darker intent, as the mentioning of an assassination was revealed, and it concluded with the initial of K. The designation was unknown to us.

Were we the assassins? Co-conspirators? Discoverers of this plot, and therefore perhaps on the way to confront the person or persons involved? These questions were cut short as the signet ring of one of the guards glowed brightly for a moment, and taking this as sign of some form, we were ushered through to the next room after the guard declared, “The High Cardinal will see you now.”

We entered a sizable study, the mark of wealth lavishly ingrained into every aspect of the opulent chamber. Everywhere there were shelves and wardrobes, a windowed wall covered by a large tapestry, lush carpeting, a fireplace, an impressive chair, a desk covered in papers, objects, and a model of a mansion. The tapestry made me bristle somewhat as it depicted the Day of Mourning itself, where by a large cloud was shown rolling over a group soldiers heading towards a forest edge; those it had already passed had fallen instantly. A strange cowled figure stood in the foreground of the scene, observing the killing fog.

Simel approached me and quietly informs me of a peculiarity of the tapestry; both that the hand on the cane of the figure in the image was backward somehow and that although the historical event of the Mourning was something that was recent, it appeared that the work was possibly far older than the time period we must be in. Shouldn't this moment in time come before the Day of Mourning?

A stately man, human and older than myself by at least fifteen or twenty years—and by his hard look and scars, quite possibly a warrior in his youth—sat in a large ornate chair behind the paper-strewn desk. He looked stern with a regal bearing to him, wearing embroidered black and dark blue garments, akin to that of a priest or paladin, with symbols of Silver Flame on his clothes and multiple rings on his fingers. A long and sharp silver spear rested beside him upright like a flag. He could easily be the Cardinal the guards spoke of, but was he our friend or foe?

"I have to say I'm a little surprised to see you here," the man I could only presume as being the Cardinal said. In response Alae hurled the scroll on his desk, demanding an explanation for its writings, whilst Magnus and Simel moved around towards the fireplace. Cypher's gaze, however, was drawn to the table for, as we approach, their appear to be some peculiar shiny silver goggles, and a decanter of vivid blue liquid constantly frothing and bubbling inside the glass. There was also a miniature house and adjoining gazebo on the desk.

The High Cardinal looked at Aleae dangerously, then calmly lifted up and read the scroll, whilst Magnus started to look through the wardrobe, and Simel peers behind a red curtain on the other wall.

“I don't understand, what is your concern?” asked the Cardinal quizzically.

“What do you want us to do with this?!” Aleae responded.

Magnus, ever the diplomat, interjected “Kill him”—this earned nothing but a glare from the Cardinal, but he returns his gaze to Aleae. Attempting to disarm the situation and gain some form of insight into the man's plans, I spoke with him.

“My lord, how do you expect us to carry out these orders wholeheartedly?”

“They were not addressed to you,” he replied, “So explain to me why you have them.”

“The messenger died bring them to us,” piped up Simel.

The Cardinal became enraged at our presence, telling us we had no right to view or be in the ownership of the scroll, and how dare we confront him in his own chamber—to which I accused him of heresy and corruption, and that he should surrender himself to us.

“I say you are heretical, sir,” I said, my temper getting the better of me, the clear deceit and bad taste of the tapestry being too much to bear for me. “You have crossed the line.”

“Hasn't enough blood been spilled already?” asked Aleae of the Cardinal.

“Clearly not enough,” said the Cardinal as he rose from his chair and reached for his spear. But as he did, Aleae hurled him from his feet with blast of ice energy, before dashing into the room hidden behind the curtain that Simel had been inspecting and had passed through at the first sign of violence.

Magnus jumped upon the table, roaring at the Cardinal to stand down, whilst Cypher and Rungo readied themselves close to the door, in order to stop the guards from entering. Instead of striking out he turned his head calmly to the Seren warrior and spoke words of a tongue I have not heard myself, but made my skin scrawl nonetheless. Once uttered, an icy gust of wind issued from beyond the red curtain, and within seconds a stomach-curdling screech emitted in reply. A hoard of rats pour out from the passage and swarmed the room, apparently under the control of the Cardinal or whatever had made the ear-splitting screech. Whatever could make that sound no goodly priest should be commanding!

“What have you done?” I yelled, as I swung my hammer down towards him, but I found myself unable to land the blow—no, as if somehow unwilling to—and so I turned the blow to the floor instead. Clarion went to the aid of Aleae and Simel, who both stood stricken, small rivulets of blood leaking from their ears at the horrid shriek. The warforged called out that it was a Vrock that had come. From my own studies I knew this to refer to a vulture-like demon of lesser statue than other demons but still considerable might.

“You summon creatures to fight for you?! Well fight me!!” Magnus bellowed, but like me he finds himself unwilling to land a blow against the priest, and so with frustration wrought across his features, he decimated the table instead, shattering the model house and sending the objects atop it flying away.

Cypher ran up to Magnus, running his hands across his clothes, his eyes glowing, and murmured what must have been some kind of incantation. Rungo gave up guarding the door and dashed across the chamber to pounce upon the Cardinal.

Regaining his footing, the Cardinal yelled at Magnus, the rat hoard turning toward him chewing and clawing at the barbarian's tanned tough skin, as the Vrock—a hideous and fell monster—waded into Simel, Clarion and Aleae, all three of them attacking back with strikes of their weapons, fireballs and blessed prayers to bolster our reserves. Spitting at the priest, Magnus slammed against him but still found himself to be unwilling to hit the spell-protected priest. He turned his rage against the rats, pulping them by the dozens with each swing of his mace.

A screech indicated the Vrock was still fighting after the attacks from my comrades and it launched some form of explosive spores onto those nearby, making Aleae and Simel choke and seem ill.

Simel turned his attention to the priest with his silvery blade. The Karrn managed to stab and cut, but a surge of blue flames flared up from the Cardinal, burning Simel with cold fire. Dropping my shield, I swung hard down onto the Cardinal, bright light shining from the hammer Octogramic symbol, and landed it at last with a satisfying crunch—though I, too, felt the cold burning sensation shoot up my arms. Meanwhile Clarion smote the demon Vrock divinely, light spilling from the otherwise minor wound. It shrieked with pain under the holy light. Aleae produced her Wand of Wonder, leveling it at the demon and activating it....causing a thick carpet of lush green grass to appear all over the room. That magical artifact has left my astonished, scared, and at times highly amused, I must admit.

Magnus, Rungo and myself continued to attack the fallen Cardinal and he attempted to maneuver away from us. In one final moment, he summoned a powerful spell, conjuring a flaming column of red and silver. It lasted only a moment, burning with true flames and holy fire alike, and when it was gone so, too, was the Cardinal. We turned our attention to the remaining Vrock, pummeling it with blows from Magnus's mace, a torrent of arrows from Simel, and a chromatic orb of magical power from Aleae—its merest touch blistering and melting the damnable creature's skin.

As the demon at last succumbed to our attacks and slumped down to the ground, the world began to shift and fade from view, growing darker with each passing second. Cypher, however, notices that the blue liquid-filled decanter and the ornate silver goggles did not blur away, so he scooped them up as quickly as his warforged hands allowed him to. Then the world around us reformed into the familiar room of books and vials in the first floor of the wizard's tower.

We paused for a brief rest and took stock of the situation. Cypher examined the decanter whilst Simel discovered the goggles to be some form darkvision-enhancing device. During this respite, Cypher made it known to the party that he was displeased with the way we had approached the phantasmal experiences thus far, stating that we should simply have avoided confrontation and assessed each scenario in order to gain knowledge for the question the wizard was going to ask of us. The party as a whole were unwilling to simply sit back and allow ourselves to become assaulted morally or physically by these dreamscapes, although we did agree that we might be able to avoid direct conflict.

Without further ado we approached the books again and selected the Aundairian book with Lauranet of Aundair on a balcony.

Third Level: Lurinet of Aundair

After climbing the spiraling dark stairs, we appeared in a carpeted room, clearly a wealthy mansion, some paintings, a few desks, and ornate wooden doors around. A guest book and quill and ink sit on one table, and as for velours we appear to be nobles of some form, all sproused up as if we are about to attend a gala, wearing clothing and silk. Even Clarion was shining and golden.

Under one of the doors, smoke curled through, and the temperature was rising uncomfortbly with each moment. Simel approached one door and found it to be very hot. Yells and raised voices of a mob could be heard outside. As we proceeded to open a large set of double doors my eye was caught by a series of paintings, each one depicting a couple. In each the woman was the same, fairly youthful, beautiful, but wearing different fashions. But the male figure was always different, aged younger and older. Not the same man each time.

We passed through as the sound of smashing glass followed us, Aleae quickly scooped up the guest book in hope of knowing who was here, and Magnus jammed the door behind us to aid our flight from the flames.

We proceeded down the hallway whilst Cypher meticulously checked and opens each door, and as we came closer to a set of stairs leading to the upper levels, a crash announced the entrance of large fire-wreathed figure. It was a moment before we realized the flames were the figure. This was no mere act of human arson.

“Fire Elemental!” yelled Magnus. This announcement sped our hurried passage through the damaged hallways, as canisters were thrown through the windows by the angry mob outside. Not canisters but scroll cases! After a quick inspection by Cypher, it appeared as if each contained an official death notice of a member of an Aundairian citizen. Linked to the Lady Lurinet perhaps? Aleae attempted to converse with the fire elemental following us but remarked that it simply hungered for flesh to burn, and that there will be no dissuading it from its course.

The second floor appeared to be in better condition than the lower, but even as we approached another set of double doors we saw another fire elemental approaching from an adjoining hallway. Hurriedly we kicked the doors in and entered a large stately room, full of decoration and seating, to one side a balcony overlooking the gathered crowd, a garden leading down to the west side of the room out of the windows, and the other another hallway entrance and a room full of mirrors. Meanwhile Cypher had spotted something lying on the ground in one of the hallways—a locket.

Magnus and Clarion attempted to bar passage into the room even as the fire elementals began to consume the wooden doors with their flames, blackening it from the other side. At this point, Aleae at this point, seemed most concerned with the paintings, adamant that the woman in the painting was in fact real and could hear us; the smoke perhaps had gotten the best of her? The rest of us set about searching the area, and Clarion even stepped out onto the balcony. He attempted to beseech the mob outside, his horns and amplify voice calling for calm. For a moment he has their attention, but their answers to his questions were shortly drowned out, and they begin to pelt him with stones and more of the death notice scrolls. They shouted that he—or we?—were traitors and murders.

Cypher took a moment to examine the locket and then revealed to us that in one half was a small portrait of the woman, who could only be the Lady Lurinet. On the opposite side was a portrait of a changeling man, in his natural form, with pale white and gray skin and hair.

As the doors behind us started to crackle and spit, Magnus fell back, allowing Cypher to use his artifice magics to push the fire elemental back down the hall by enchanting a glass rod which he now referred to as an "elemental prod." He is truly his an adept and powerful spellcaster in his own right, though he does not call himself this. Aleae continued to interrogate the furnishings. Much to my bemusement Simel attempted to help by reshaping his changeling face to resemble the lady's—to what end I do not know! I stood prepared with shield, but was somewhat lost at what to do, I must admit.

As a third elemental began to crackle its way towards us through the second entrance, now opened by Magnus, I decided to push back into the hallway. We passed through in an attempt to search some of the rooms there. After Cypher used his magical prod against the elementals, with one such push successfully dropping one through the ruined burning floorboards to the level below, I began to open doors with Magnus. I found it hard going, wheezing at the sturdiness of the doors around me but eventually open all but one, until yet another elemental appeared!

Frustrated, I reiterated that we must fight as surely there could be no other way of surviving this fiery phantasm. Aleae protested and Magnus suggested that we wade into and through the crowd. I disagreed with both, and Aleae finally launched an ice bolt at the approaching elemental. It backed away, and Magnus opened the window more too increase the flow of air much to my relief.

“We cannot fight in this building even if we must fight,” pointed out Simel as the floors and walls sagged and groaned with the fierce fires raging through the halls. Remembering that there was a garden at the bottom of the stately room, we agreed to fall back as quickly as we could with Cypher leading up from behind to push the elementals back if needed. We opened the windows and began to exit from the second floor.

Even as Magnus leapt from the window down a garden patio below, the world began to fade again—not due to the smoke that had filled the rooms, but with the changing of the world. The ending of this scene.

We find ourselves once more within the entrance chamber of the wizard's tower. We were blackened by smoke and coughing still. The phantasm seemed real indeed.

On the table was a small bag containing nine small petrified bones, and Cypher added this to his ever-growing inventory. Yet without further rest we continued to the next page within the book on the table. It carried the sigil of Cyran, showing a female swashbuckling wizard facing down a squad of warforged. Magnus suggested that I, being Cyran, open it. I nodded solemnly in agreement, setting the bookmark on the designated page and turning to the door. Reverently I pushed it open and headed upward through the now familiar stairs. The darkness receded once more.

Fourth Level: Charise of Cyre

We found ourselves in a study room surrounded by large reinforced glass windows looking out onto a factory floor, and a desk covered in forms and papers. The walls were also plastered with remnants of warforged design, like manufacturing parts, and numerous diagrams. We noticed also that we did not wear any garments or armor different than our own.

We realized after a few moments that the window looked down into a creation foundry, etched with arcane symbols. Cypher and Clarion, having both originated in such a place, noticed this first, and mentioned that there were workers in House Cannith garb down below, along with some warforged. Whether the warforged are guards or were there for inspection I ddid not know. Cypher began to inspect the drawers and used his abilities to open them, as I checked the only door out of here. It was locked. Cypher meanwhile opened the drawers, revealing more parts and even some purchase orders dated to 985 YK. That was 14 years ago.

The first notable order was for a 50,853 gp purchase, listing the specs for a unit of only 12 warforged commissioned for Cyre. Details included the fact that emblems of Aundair be inscribed upon them and that the warforged be indoctrinated to regard Cyre as their enemy. In the margin was written "Starridge, survivors allowed: 5." Starridge is, or was, a town near the city of Making in central Cyre.

There was some discussion between the group about what this could mean, and I felt my gut wrench suddenly. Amberfield was the town indicated in the second, unfinished purchase order, and it listed “Survivors allowed: 2.” My head was swimming.

Then came the third: Hillsthatch. My home! “Survivors allowed: 0."

"Strange, this warforged design is unusual,” said Cypher, indicating something about the notes therein.

As this information hit me like a thunder wave, I strode across the room and snatch the papers from Cypher and began trawling through them thoroughly. Could this be a clue to those brigands that slaughtered my village for the sake of some warforged construct? Could this lead to my redemption and the final judgment of those responsible?!

Sudden commotion downstairs causes me to panic and stuffing the pages into my pockets I got Cypher to open the door. I stormed out, hammer and shield raised and ready. Several armored warforged and a man with a leering face, all in Cannith uniforms, marched down the corridor toward us.

“Ahh, here's our little mouse,” the man said....and then the world melted away for the last time.

We reappeared in front of the familiar table and there was a slender metal rod, with a transmutation effect that Cypher detects. Confused and angry, I almost missed what Clarion says, asking if we should record the information we came across. I shook my head, attempting to clear my mind of the phantasm and I begin to record the information I had come across like every other room in the Thought Books; many questions and information crossing over and scrawling madly across the pages.

“What do you know of what we saw, Kard?” asked Magnus, and Clarion asked questions about what I knew of the places that Cypher had read. Stuttering in reply, still shaken by what I had seen or heard, I said I was reluctant to divulge what I knew. I then reached for the book to allow us passage, quickly setting it to the final wizard's portrait—Elidac of Breland—and hurrying Cypher to open the door as he was Brelish.

The group was confused by my sudden change in character. We opened the door and the stairway appeared.

Fifth Level: Elidac of Breland

The darkness we were greeted with, though, did not recede, and when we reach solid ground again we found ourselves in a low-ceiling room much like a warehouse or storage room. Eager to check the room Simel used his darkvision goggles to reconnoiter, and reported that there seemed to be a large amount of detritus and props just lying around in piles. Aleae with her keen eyes could see this as well. Magnus produced his everburning torch and, bathing the area with light, we saw objects and items from each  of the phantasms we took part in. Armour from warforged titan, bones, Karrnathi armor, stained glass, broken and burnt paintings in damaged frames, scraps of paper.

I bent and quickly collected one of the paper scraps with urgency in case I can use some of the information in my quest.

Continuing on up a strangely-shaped set of stairs we founds ourselves on a large stone dais like a great table. It took a moment to realize its irregular shape. The entire dais was like the Five Nations, with a stream of water flowing around the edge, and deep grooves for the border markers. The stairwell we had come up filled the gap that represented Cyre, or the Mournland. This did not catch my attention at first, as I noticed chunks of floating rock lead up to a plinth, where a floating carpet also hovers. Standing upon the flying carpet was a wizard in maroon robes with a white beard, dark skin, and dreadlocks. He faced stood facing a pedestal, upon which rested a strange device: a slender pole topped by a sphere surrounded by a ring of gold. Wrought of different colors of metal, the entire thing was suspended ominously.

As my eyes attuned to the change in light, we realized we were in a large open space, almost as if we were at the top of the wizard's tower. Perhaps it was daylight that was streaming through the arch above us? I noticed then the map we stood upon, and that there is a gap leading to an opening of space, and a stone walled area about 10 feet below the floating land mass,with a library and reading tables and chairs near the walled side. Four figures sat at some of the tables, each one perusing a book.

The figures by the tables looked like those illustrated in the book, the five wizards whose phantasmal experiences we had passed through. But they did seem somewhat older. One was a weary-looking man robed in gray, perhaps Garrek the Karrn? Scarred and wearing an eyepatch. Another was handsome, noble-looking, wearing black and blue, looking well groomed. Seeing a trace of silver, I guess him to be Lukar of Thrane. Lurinet of Aundair was the most recognizable one, for she still resembled her paintings; dressed in a gown but one that looked more practical for wizard's work. Finally there was the last one, who could only be Charise of Cyre; dressed in robes, her hair chopped shorter and wearing a strange half mask affixed with a gemstone eye. Also nearby was a large purple serpent, like some overgrown familiar, and another creature that resembled a steel-skinned, muscled great cat.

I invoked my thaumaturgical spell and approached the floating wizard, announcing ourselves.

“I think we can all drop the pretense,” I said.

The chief wizard nodded and turned around, while the reading figures barely seemed to notice us at all. I marched towards him, with Simel following closely behind. I bristled slightly, recognizing at this point where I had walked over the gap of Cyre in the table.

“I am Kard of Cyre,” I said.

“I am Elidac," he responded, "and I am glad you made it here.” He spread his arms in reference to this entire level.

“I must ask about the items you have stored below. We came across these things in your phantasms. Was it all real?”

“In some ways, it was. In others, less so. You have passed through the Trials of the Four. You have seen, and experienced, some of what convinced my comrades to turn from the Last War to look for the solutions that lie beyond it. The power of the World Sphere"—here he indicated the device beside him—"allows it."

Not wanting to waste time after all the effort that we had gone through to get to this man, I pressed him further, “I shall speak plainly, for I have seen many things today that have tested my resolve and patience."

"I know why you are here," he also spoke plainly, and he turned towards Cypher. "We spoke briefly, Cypher, in one of the chambers below. When you disturbed the golem, I took notice. I was...distracted from my work. So I chose to speak with one of you directly. I found you the most likely to disseminate. It had been some time since the golem has moved." Elidac smiled mildly. His manner was all-around a mild one. Suspiciously so.

"You control it?" asked Cypher.

"By no means," the wizard answered, taking off the spectacles that he wore. "And I am here to threaten no one."

“And the the Order of the Emerald Claw, and the Messengers of Thrane? They mean no harm either then?” I interjected.

Elidac said, "You have the advantage of me, so I must ask you about what you have learned from the Trials of the Four. I myself have never experienced them. And before we speak further I must ask you one question that only you would know."

We waited, and then he said, "One of my companions has betrayed me." He subtly indicated the other four wizards where they sat at their reading tables, still hardly taking notice of us. "I do know who it is, but I believe you may know. You see, the World Sphere created those experiences you passed through, rendered from their own minds. Each one represented a defining moment in their lives, a turning point and purpose. If one of them has gone astray, the Trial would reveal their corruption, if only in some small way. They cannot conceal their hearts. Consider, did you see anything in any of the Trials that stood out from the others? Was there a sign of something amiss?"

We began to tell him of what we saw, but he stopped us. He did into seem interested in the details. "I need you to tell me the name of the traitor," is all he would say.

Cypher asked for some time alone so we could discuss the matter. It was decided that in each of the phantasmal "trials," we took the place of the wizard it represented: Garrek of Karrnath (the battlefield), Lukar of Thrane (the Cardinal's study), Lurinet of Aundair (the burning mansion), and Charise of Cyre (the Cannith creation forge). We spoke about what set each one apart: Was it the clothes we wore or didn't? Was it the behavior of those we met? Was it something in the background? A development or a detail?

The intentions of Elidac were still unknown to us. I felt sure that he was not an ally to our purposes, and so I could not wholly give up a person that might be an aid to my own personal quest of retribution. The conversation turned to argument, with points and counter points being postulated at every junction. Even the usually quiet Magnus was deep within the conversation; truly we all had such differing views that we could not fully agree on who it was that could be Elidac's "traitor," and whether or not his enemy was our friend. We eventually settled on the two confusing scenarios, which was of the Aundair fire and the Cannith creation forge. Aleae and I were of the belief that Elidac was not our ally here; we were sure of the Cyran wizard's betrayal, but believed it was of good intentions, and Magnus, Cypher and, Clarion's belief was of the same but they believed that the truth to this unknown wizard was the correct course of action. How wrong were we all to be...

Simel approached Elidac, with our verdict, and I stared at the wizards, specifically the Cyran one, Charise. Simel explain our predicament to the wizard, and gave our answer, and Elidac frowned. But in a peculiarly calm fashion, he simply responded, “Thank you.” He then drifted on his carpet over to where his comrades sat reading. I think Aleae even messaged Charise with a spell to warn her that she may be in danger from our actions.

Calmy Elidac gathered the others together to talk. They were too far to hear what was said, but some seemed angered or confused as to what he was saying. And then the one in red, Lukar, the well-groomed wizard of Thrane—who we must have represented in confronting the High Cardinal—separated himself from the group. He was clearly upset or angered by what he had heard.

Then all of a sudden he threw his hand out and conjured into being a translucent cage of energy, which fully enclosed the other wizards—including Elidac. Then he twisted to us and hurled some sort of sphere of cold blue energy at us.

I was happy in my foolishness to be proven wrong. It is not normally a pleasant thing to have your pride injured. But in that instant I knew that the Cyran wizard, Charise, was no traitor, and that Elidac's purpose must be of a good nature—much against my belief of his being a man of evil purpose.

It was in that moment that I felt clarity, the ice bolt hurtling towards my party. I felt myself move in the way, shield outstretched to intercept the bolt of elemental energy. When it stuck, there was a blinding light and all stood still, I felt the cold across my entire body, achingly cold, but it felt like being frozen in time as well. I briefly recalled the battle arena where I had first met these strange new companions of mine. How unexpected my fate has been.

The cold was unbearable, but then I felt what I thought were the rays of a new day sun grace my back, and as I turned I saw a figure wreathed in golden fire, great feather wings of light keeping it aloft. In its wrath I felt the heat of Onatar's forge, or the loving warmth of Boldrei's hearth.

Yes, I was happy even as the world faded in the blinding light of a being I had only prayed to, and dared to dream still existed in our realms. Its embrace felt like rapture, or perhaps like death.

Thanks for playing, Sam!

We are all sad (dire) pandas now.