#100 - Partisanship and Regret

Storrgrim, the frost giant jarl (spirit)
inhabiting the Defiler's Bane (mace)

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

I stood paralyzed.  I couldn’t move, which is something I hate (but have strangely been growing accustomed to). It seems that with all the magic in our midst these days, I am becoming more and more useless. On Seren, I had a purpose and my abilities were keeping pace with my desires. Lately, I spend my time frozen, paralyzed, held, blinded, blasted, snared, burned, unconscious, or unable to reach the foes we face. I feel like I haven’t landed one decent mash with my mace in days.

Storrgrim is watching me fail. This is not why I left Seren. My friends lead me astray, but I could never survive any of it without them. There are too many loops in the vine. I cannot see either end of the tale.

The strangest fight I can remember had unfolded in the chamber below: a wall of cheese, ice storms, fireballs, unicorns, new allies, and desperate measures. To top it all off, while I stood immobile and stricken by a serpent-flung spell, useless and bleeding and paralyzed at the end of the fight, the summoned unicorn came and healed me and wandered off. The party was regrouping, sorting through coins and smelling the cheese. Eventually, I shook off the numbness from my limbs and sat on the small ledge to start sewing myself back into some kind of fighting trim. But why?

The newcomer walked into view, a tough looking human with a very long weapon. It was a spear of considerable length, which I later heard was specifically called a partisan. This would not have been a practical weapon in the jungles of Seren.

She called herself Win. Win? With that obviously magic weapon, I bet she wins a lot. Storrgrim took note and I could feel his desire to stay near that weapon. Perhaps he wishes to change the owner of the mace. I feel unworthy.

I said my greeting to Win—rather, Wynn—and it slowly dawned on me that she was from Karrnath, a cold, northern realm I have only heard my companions speak of. Simel is a Karrn as well. Perhaps they will have much to talk about.

Then the unicorn vanished. More senseless magic. Does it make sense to Aleae, I wonder?

Clarion had heard the commotion and he walked into the vaulted chamber. He went about healing us and began his usual silent, magical chatter with Aleae. With my body ready for some more adventure, I hopped down from the balcony edge and said hello again, introducing Wynn to him. Clarion was not very interested at first, but after he secured the room he quite suddenly took interest in her—or at least her weapon. I'm not sure I have ever seen a warforged become so agitated without moving much. He interrogated her about it and expressed some strange familiarity with it. Where did she get it? From her family. I didn't quite follow the full exchange, but eventually Clarion grew calm and turned away again.

I started to remind everyone about our pressing current mission, to talk to the angel and then to kill the vampire, Governor Trazzen. After some discussion of the weight of a bag of coins, we headed back to the angel's hallway from which we had branched off.

Here Cypher and Aleae noticed a figure behind us standing in the darkness, back by the dark shaft we had descended. Cypher called out and we saw our old traveling companion Halbazar! He was much changed—no longer stout and warm, but pale and gaunt. Wynn even named him as being clearly undead.

I recall him trapped in the mirror under the Dhakaani keep, and then Rendar freeing him, and us bringing his very altered (and somewhat treacherous) self to the halfling house of healing in Droaam. It was there that Trazzen the vampire took him, killing almost all who were in that place. Before me very stood a servant of Trazzen, in the altered body of Halbazar. I told him I was here to kill Trazzen and he told me that it was not possible, that I would lose. I have heard that before, but my wounds keep healing so I continue on.

Halbazar offered to escort us to see the governor, for the governor had an offer for us, some terms of surrender maybe. As Halbazar put it, we could save our lives by joining Trazzen. Not likely. I will fight that vampire, I will attack his magical cunning with my simple strength and dragon-bone mace. I may lose and then he may take me and use me the way he took Halbazar and put him to foul purpose.  Those are my terms. I said so and he spoke slander against the dragons. Wisely, then, Halbazar left us, assuring us the next time we met it would not be under peaceful circumstances.

I later wondered how he knew where to find us. It may be that the undead ogre and minotaurs who came after us earlier made too much noise. Or perhaps they had been missed.

We set up marching down the too-smooth tunnel. After a time, we came to a strange wall of glass clouded by frozen gray mist. There was door in the middle with no handle. When Cypher touched the door to examine it, it sank into the mist. We debated what to do. Clarion ignored the discussion and simply stepped through the door. The door closed behind him and we lost sight of him altogether. We could only watch as the frozen gray mist in the room beyond the wall rolled back, revealing an outdoor scene:

A battle had taken place, but it was over now. Clarion, much "younger" and more beat-up-looking,  and lacking any religious icons on his armor, mercilessly killed a surrendering soldier and then dismembered him. We watched in horror as the gentle Clarion used his weapons to de-flesh the bones, used them to attempt to make music or percussive sounds, and then in the last he tried quite unsuccessfully to re-assemble the corpse. Then the vision faded.

Resolved to shame, I stepped through the door with no discussion. While unhindered, I found my mind troubled with something, a regret I have tried to dismiss for the better part of a year now. Around me the room was obscured but I eventually passed from it to emerge into another hall. I found Clarion there, his normal polished self, standing, looking quietly back. I don’t know what he saw in the misty window; as I watched the others follow, one by one, I can only conclude that he—that they—viewed a moment of shame in my past. 

Thankfully he said nothing.

One by one the group passed through the clouded gray chamber to join us, and each was shown to be a horrible vicious person with little regard for the dragon-granted livesof others. 

We watched as Cypher, likewise "younger" and carrying far fewer possessions, climbed into a building in some city. Shortly after he departed, the building exploded in fire, and there were helpless people inside. I saw there was a young girl within.


Within a forest, Simel, in the natural changeling form we have seldom seen, tortured a man. A warrior, perhaps, but helpless and defeated, unable to defend himself honorably. It was not brief.

In another forest, with taller trees and more vibrant plant life such as I have not seen even on Seren Island, Aleae—or rather, a much, much younger Aleae (decades ago, centuries?)—used her powerful wild magic to destroy what seemed to be a sister or cousin during what I took to be a harmless squabble. Then she marked her face and arms to seem like she had been in a real battle. 

I turned away as Wynn came through, she deserves her privacy. I wish I had done the same for my friends. We do not know Wynn at all, the good or the bad. But the others chose to watch her past unfold.

We assembled on the other side of the misty wall, each aware that the rest had seen us at our worst.

This is hardly the way to meet an angel.