#96 - Restful Words and An Unexpected Goat

Translated from the Pelgah do Sahlessh [The Journal of Sahlessh]

It was clear to me that my new companions were not going in the right direction when they chose to seek the wizard in the alleged tower above. I could not abandon Saralith, the one who was selected with me to begin this adventure. I had to try to find her, even if it meant leaving my group and facing these gnolls on my own.

As the party continued through the secret door, I remained behind... alone.

There were six gnolls in the first group that came. One attempted to freeze me with a spell of frost, little did he know that I was raised in a land far colder than anything his magic produced. As the gnoll's companion attempted to strike me, I sidestepped, delivering a bone-crushing elbow to its ribs. Before he had time to yelp I grabbed the neck of the gnoll next to him and threw him towards their companions. This opened a space for me to charge the spellcaster. The last thing he saw was my finger gouging out his eye. His screams clearly shook the other gnolls and they lost their will to fight. I fear that my companions mistook those screams for mine.

When fighting groups, it is essential that you inflict maximum damage in the shortest period of time. Furthermore, if you can make a gruesome example of one, generally the others in the group will think twice about engaging you, buying precious seconds that can be the difference between life and death.
I hurriedly moved on, attempting to work my way downward, towards the area I thought that I might find Saralith, but the gnolls were always on my scent.

I adopted the tactics of the Stormwalkers, a small but fierce tribe back on Seren. These warriors fight like dragons. They weave in and out of battle, constantly moving like serpents. They strike and then disappear into the shadows, only to strike again from a new angle. I picked off gnolls here and there. I attacked when they rested. I retreated when they advanced. I harried them even as they hunted me, but had little time to rest and so eventually I abandoned my foray and decided to rejoin my companions.

One noteworthy discovery was a large chamber that I skirted by. The chamber was guarded by gnolls and the undead remains of several larger creatures, perhaps ogres or minotaurs. This place is worth returning to, as it may be the location of the teleportation circle that the group has been looking for, and Saralith may be held nearby.

It was not hard to find my way back to the secret door. I ventured up the stairs, which were covered in an unfamiliar, fungal substance. I encountered only floating but easily-avoided spheres which resembled the eye tyrants of legend if one had been infested with spores. At last I emerged into the crumbling walls of a fortress, in what turned out to be part of the ground-level keep. There was no roof and vast portions of the walls were missing, their remains lying in heaps on the floor.

As I stood there surveying the land and trying to figure out which direction my companions had ventured in, the sky began to change color, gradually lightening. First the black gave way to a deep purple, then blue began to creep in.

The sun began to take its place in the sky, though shielded by the vault overhead, when suddenly my eyes were plunged back to darkness as a massive shape loomed over me alarming speed. It took but a moment to realize that a rock had been hurled at me, but no ordinary rock. This rock was at least as large as the head of a mountain yak and rounded smooth, perfectly shaped for throwing. If not for my training, I would surely have been struck dead where I stood, but I was able to throw myself to the side and narrowly avoid that horrible death.

I slipped out of a hole in the opposite wall, trying to put as much distance between myself and my assailant as possible. As I rounded a corner to catch a glimpse at my opponent, I found myself face to face with a massive bull with metal scales covering his frame. His eyes glowed with an unnatural green aura and the world suddenly changed. First to grey, then to black.

The next thing that I can recall was being quite disoriented and staring a giant. Not my favorite way to wake up. As I struggled with whether or not I was dreaming, I heard the voices of my new companions. They explained that I had been turned to stone and it seemed to be the gray-skinned giantess near me who had removed the petrification.

Shortly after reverting to my normal consistency, we went to speak to a dovah [dragon]. From a distance, it seemed like a young sahqo [red] dovah. It had the right shape and mannerisms, but as we approached, I could see that something was very wrong. This sahqo seemed blemished, as though the color had faded and been replaced with a smoky, ash color. I had seen abominations like this once before.


Before we advanced within earshot, I pulled Magnus aside and told him of my experience. Before I was brought to this Land of Demons, a young sot [white] named Raskothah came to our tribe. She was the last child of Ghal Turac (the most noble dragon who founded our tribe) and she came to warned us of an impending threat that the Bringers of Fire represented. A great evil was influencing the Bringers of Fire and needed to be stopped.

Saralith and myself were selected to accompany Raskothah to the Wyrmsperch Mountains, a place none from my tribe had ever been allowed to see before. This was an honor that cannot be conveyed by words. She told us a tale going back a thousand years or more and spoke of things I am not yet ready to share with my new companions. Upon these details the fate of the world rests. I cannot reveal what I know until I am absolutely certain where the allegiances of my companions lie.

Raskothah was preparing to bestow relics upon Saralith and myself to aid in fighting these dark forces, but we were interrupted and set upon by two "dragons" such as the one before me now. Then it was a bii [blue] and a graag [green], whereas now, it was a sahqo, but all three shared the same ashen shadow instead of their true colors. I was overcome by their forces and imprisoned in the tapestry that brought me here. Now, perhaps I had an opportunity to get some answers.

This nizah sahqo [false red]—named Mesanth we learned later—was quite cocky for an enslaved beast. The haughtiness of the sahqo is well known, even among those not so corrupted. Magnus lost not a moment before he began to taunt her. His attempt to persuade her to provide us with information had all the subtlety of the first flower after the winter's end. Even a child could see through his attempts.

He goaded Mesanth, telling her of her master's death and that hers was soon to follow. He then offered her a lifeline, if she were to switch to our side, he would let her remain in this world.
Dovah are incredibly smart. I do not think she was fooled, and yet, Magnus' plan may have yielded unexpected fruit. I am reminded of the parable of the dovah:

Long ago, ten children of Eberron gathered on a beach beneath the Sentinel Moon, there to discuss the fate of mortals.

Red and Gold agreed: "These lesser, softskin creatures are meant to serve, be commanded, or kept aloof. Those who defy us or lack respect declare themselves unfit and become food."

Sahqo are incredibly smart, but they see men as beneath them. Sometimes, they reveal too much because they think that we are not capable of doing anything that would hinder their plans. Mesanth revealed to us that her color shifting was not an affliction, but something that she chose—that she had "bathed in true night." She was not lesser than before, but more and would never chose to revert to her former self. Now, she was truly alive. It is hard to change the mind of a sahvaat, a zealot. I knew we were wasting our time. This creature before us must be destroyed before we leave this place.

After speaking with the dragon, we all decided that rest was in order. The entire group had been running for too long. We found a location near a lake and set up camp. I was nearly asleep, when I heard a sound I associate more from Seren Island, the bleating of an ozak [goat].

The ozak was normal in appearance, except for the horns, which seemed to be banded in metal. In looking around, I noticed that Cypher was not with us. It took but a moment to realize that the ozak was Cypher. Somehow, he had been turned into one!

Simel was closet to Ozak-Cypher, but he clearly has not spent time around animals, as he spooked "Goat-Cypher" while approaching. Cypher charged him and then turned his attention to me as he caught notice of me. I am quite familiar with ozak, so it was no effort to avoid being butted, nonetheless, we still needed to control Cypher so he did not stray to far and allow himself to be eaten by Mesanth.

I was preparing to catch him when a rope floated up to Cypher's neck and slipped a loop over his head—a trick of the elf woman's magic. Ozak do not like being tied down, and Ozak-Cypher was no exception to this rule. He immediately began to buck and scurry about. As Cypher ran, the rope was pulled from Aleae's grasp. Truly, I am surprised she was able to lift the rope in the first place, how can a being be so frail?

I ran and grabbed the other end of the rope. I tried to let Ozak-Cypher calm down on his own, but after a few minutes I lost patience and reeled him in. Upon returning to the group, Clarion sat down on the rope and agreed to keep Cypher from harm. Soon after, the magic that had afflicted Cypher—evidently a defensive mechanism of a cane he had been examining—had faded, and he was once again a warforged.

Nothing would prevent me from sleeping now.

I woke what seemed to be a moment later, but in truth it was several hours later. The sky was dark and the moons had set. I was ready for another few hours of sleep, but was roused due to the arrival of a group of four humans.

The leader was a dark-skinned man with elaborate maroon robes and an accent that was similar to that of Cypher. He wore his beard short, something no self respecting Seren would consider, and it had a most peculiar coloration at the tips, as though he had been walking across the icy steppes and frost had accumulated at the end. Given his age, bearing, and influence, if he were a Seren, there is no doubt in my mind that he would be a dragonspeaker.

Behind the leader, was a woman in outlandish, gown-like robes, another with plainer clothing that would be more favored by the women of Seren, and a second man with a dark feel about him. These were the wizards of the tower and somehow, my new companions knew something of them already. There had been five, but the fifth, Lukar, had turned traitor and he had been slain probably around the time I had arrived and been petrified!

We conversed with the leader, Elidac, for quite some time. He and the wizards with him had been focusing their attention on something called the World Sphere for quite some time. They found the orrery, as they call it, near Silver Lake during the war that had torn up this continent in the last century. After unearthing it, Elidac had brought it to this place to study it. Through their work, they are tying to prevent the world from slipping into the war that we are on the brink of. He was exceptionally vague about how they had planned to go about this but it did seem to involve the giants. The stone giants here were representative of that.

The recent events with my companions battling the traitorous Lukar has shown Elidac that he needs to take a more active interest in thwarting the endeavors of the enemy behind all of our recent troubles—the rakshasa they call Avashad. The wizard is willing to assist us, since our intentions are aligned in some way with his. He has offered to transport us somewhere of our choosing when we are ready. He is also going to provide us with some treasures that had been Lukar's but that his former friends do not require for themselves.

He has suggested four possibilities for our transport:

• He can send us to the Great Hall (the throne room), but we have already been there and have no desire to return.
• He can send us outside the keep but warned us that it was being watched from the outside by harpies. Regardless, we have work to do here.
• He can send us to the halls of our enemies, which would be my choice. Our enemies grow in number and strength with each passing moment, I am not sure we can afford to delay our confrontation with them.
• Lastly, he can send us to the halls of Talor, the Justicator. This was the being that the others had seen when Kard sacrificed himself for the group.

Many of the details of this story were lost to me, as I do not even know what war they were speaking of. Word of events in the Land of Demons barely reach the shores of Seren.

From what I could gather, Talor was likely a force for good, but that it was not clear why he was here. He has been referred to as an angel, which is difficult to believe. During the war Talor was one of four Messengers who came down to Eberron from one of the celestial planes. They fought on the side of the Silver Flame, a church popular in the land of Thrane, and led an invasion into Cyre (which is now the Mournland). Elidac believes that these Messengers were tasked with containing some great evil and preventing it from spreading too far. When they had accomplished their goal, three of the Messengers returned from whence they came, but Talor remained behind and came to this place and, apparently, never returned home.

Magnus and the others decided that we would be transported to the halls of Talor. It is a decision I do not agree with, but I am not yet in a position to argue with them. I could venture out alone again, but I know that nothing will come of that course of action. For now, my path is entwined with my companions. I will need to prove my worth to them and convince them that all of our paths take us to confront the oni, Hiraz, and eventually Avashad himself.

Elidac left us and returned shortly afterwards with the chest of Lukar's possessions. There were several trinkets within, but what need have I for such items? A monk relies on his fists to be cudgels and his freedom is his armor. I am anxious to move on. The sooner we reach the halls of Talor, the sooner we can get return to our true task, rekindling the Winter Coalition and stopping the Lord of Undeath.

#95 - Invisibility and Chain Lightning

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

The magic that encapsulated the wizard would not last much longer. My pulse raced, my mind spun. Did we make a mistake? Was the wizard now at an advantage? Not only did he have time to prepare a host of protective spells and spells to strike, but we had given him the opportunity to study us, our interactions, our combat styles.

The previous fight left me exhausted and drained. Lukar was in possession of magic greater than mine, of that I was certain. I would have to outsmart him if I was to survive this battle.

In the mere seconds before the wizard was free, I grasped Simel’s shoulder, imparting a bit of protection onto us. “No one can see you now. Good luck, my friend,” I whispered as our bodies vanished from sight.

As I ran underneath the sphere, its existence faded, leaving our enchanted enemy floating freely thirty feet above the group who waited in vain to grapple him upon his anticipated landing. The Wand burned against my chest, aching to be used. I did what it asked; pointed it at my hovering adversary and hoped for the best.

Colors as beautiful and bright as the first day of Nost-na-Lothion sprung forth from its tip and wove through the air around me. The chroma easily had the ability to overwhelm those who were not accustomed to such brilliance. Holding my breath I arched my head back and caught a glimpse of my foe’s face and those of my peers. “Yee!” I huffed silently through clenched teeth. He was unaffected, but it seems as if Magnus was not as lucky.

Moving with exceptional, magical speed, Lukar lowered himself to the ground and darted towards the blackness. He started to mumble. Words I knew dearly rang through my ears; he was trying to make himself invisible! Uttering softly while intricately dancing my hands across the air, I focused on my adversary. I will not let you get away! I thought with an intensity so great I imagined my friends could feel the sentiment. As the spell fizzled–his form blinking in and out–the quizzical look on his face was quickly replaced by one of fury. My confidence boosted.
In retaliation, the wizard tossed two bright gemstones to the ground nearby. They hit the floor, making a light tinkling sound as they rolled and finally settled nearest to Clarion.

Both Clarion and Magus struggled to grasp hold of the wizard. Even Magnus, who looked different–bigger, bolder, dare I say, even dragon-like–found his maneuvers easily eluded by the wizard’s powers. Our frustration turned to distress as the gemstones he'd thrown cracked open. Tilting our heads upward, we gaped at towering water and earth elementals which had sprung up in their place. Within seconds, they attacked; the earth pummeled Magnus while the water flowed through a transient Cypher (who seemingly step out of the darkness, why was Cypher’s form not solid?).

Although I hated to do so, I had to stop the elementals from future assault. There was too much at stake. A stream of frost-blue energy exploded from my fingertips immediately, freezing the water elemental upon impact. I turned my attention to Lukar. Energy welded up within my stomach. Breathing in deeply, I brought it upward and through my lungs, letting it grow within me. When I could no longer stand the fire within my chest, I exhaled. The ball of energy flew down my arms, burst forth out of my palms, and headed straight for my adversary. He was too powerful, too well prepared. Much to my chagrin, the fierceness I hurled was absorbed by–what I deduced to be–an invisible shell that protected his person from magical damage. “Wasted!” I mumbled.

Feeling the pressure of our onslaught, Lukar promptly created three illusionary clones of himself. Clarion and Magnus rushed to do what they do best–pummel using weapons and fists. Magnus was able to take down one of the clones, but not before succumbing to another of the earth elemental’s vicious attacks. An arrow shot from an invisible Simel whizzed by and struck another clone out of existence. Knowing my magic would get me no where with that shell in place, I snatched my longbow from my back and easily extinguished the remaining clone.

Lukar looked concerned for the first time. He ran towards the elementals, away from Magnus and Clarion’s forceful blows, away from Cypher’s wavering form. But then he stopped dead in his tracks. I knew it was coming, but could not manage to find the words in time. Turning back towards the area from which he came, his brow furrowed in concentration, Lukar pointed a charged finger at a now fully-materialized Cypher. With a half grimace, half snarl, he let loose the thick blast of white lightning from his finger. They never stood a chance.

Cypher held up what looked like the wand he had muttered on about earlier.

“Fool!” I shouted in my head. “RUN!”

It was too late. The bolt of lighting passed into Cypher, then forked out again into both Clarion and Magnus. Within seconds all three of my companions were on the ground. Whether the chain lightning had left them dead or unconscious, I did not know. Smoke rose from their blackened forms.

A calmness came over me. This man has quite possibly killed my friends. I silently reflected. He is most likely aware of or partially responsible for the Mournland and the stranding of my people. I was now prepared both mentally and physically to do what must be done. He must be brought to justice no matter the price.

Quietly I watched as Lukar studied his surroundings. When he seemed satisfied that he was alone he went towards our fallen comrades. As an arrow expertly struck the wizard, I concluded that Simel must also have been feeling uneasy about Lukar’s positioning. Once again, Lukar cast clones to confuse us, but our slew of arrows swiftly eradicated them, leaving him alone and under an onslaught of Simel’s projectiles.

The vibrations under the footsteps of Simel were slight, but it was enough for the earth elemental to "see" with its body. These minute pulses were like a bright beacon to its senses and he soon was upon the invisible marksman!

Assuming his enemy was occupied, Lukar took the opportunity to do what he had first set out to do and headed towards the orrery—the "World Sphere" as Elidca had called it. There was no time. No second to reconsider. Not one moment to catch my breath or think. It had to work. Lukar must be brought to justice. I ran as fast as I could toward the edge and launched myself into the darkness, out over the edge.

As I started to fall into the abyss, I used what little energy I had remaining to cast a minor teleportation spell upon myself. Silently I landed on the floating platform next to the orrery, reaching it before he did. It hummed, great with power. Lukar was only steps away as I made my attempt. Clearing my mind as best I could, I tried to focus on our physical location within the orrery. I pictured dissolving the enclosure and freeing the captive wizards. As I pulled away from the device I felt magic sweep over me. Delicate mechanical wings sprung from my back. This was not the result for which I was aiming. Lukar came nearer but still could not see me. I stood my ground and waited to be hit.

Lukar ran into my invisible form at full speed. He immediately attempted to cast a spell, but only shapes poured forth from his lips, no sounds. The magic I felt earlier! It was a sound void! Neither of us could speak a word. There was a possibility I may still survive.

Striving to use his staff to deal a blow against my unperceivable form proved useless. Easily dodging his maladroit efforts, I thrust my Nightsong Blade into his arm. THUD! An arrow struck Lukar from the left. Simel was still alive! I waited anxiously for more aid as the clumsy fight between Lukar and I went nowhere for far too long. Simel must be near as I spotted the earth elemental approach the floating platform by awkwardly jumping and then absorbing hovering stone after hovering stone. My body started to tingle. The invisibility spell I cast earlier was about to end.

“Please be near, Simel,” I prayed.    

Behind the wizard, Simel’s form slowly came back into view. It was at that moment–while I ignorantly let my attention wander–that Lukar struck me with his staff. Magic coursed through my body endeavoring to take control of my shape. Refocusing, I was able to shake it off before it took hold.

Seconds later Lukar toppled to the ground, black smoke pouring from his gaping mouth and mortal wound. Simel had delivered the final blow with his rapier, and the blade jutted from the wizard's chest. The changeling dropped to his knees in an attempt to stabilize the wizard, evidently thinking that Lukar's death could be worse.

“I think he is possessed!” shouted Simel. It was too late. The black form took its proper shape, that of a demon of smoke, and attacked Simel. Turning its eyes to the globe, the creature that was Lukar seemed to remember its mission. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the confined wizards appeared less frantic. This gave me great hope. As the creature moved forward to engage with the orrery, I readied to attack.

There was no need. From the chasm flew three gargoyles—the ones we'd met below allied with the stone giant. They pulled with their arms, tore with their razor-sharp claws, and bit down with their barbed jaw at the shadow demon until there was nothing left of it but tarnished air. A long drawn out breath I didn’t realize I was holding escaped my pursed lips as the tension melted from my muscles.

I am hurt. I am tired. I must rest.