#110 - Battle for the Scepter of Glyphstone Keep

From the Annals of the Gateekeper Izzeth, Druid of Dagger Wood

An age ago, the Dhakaani had an empire that spanned the entire continent of Khorvaire. Their rule lasted for thousands of years and ultimately ended when Xoriat, the Realm of Madness, became coterminous with Eberron and the Daelkyr were able to walk upon our soil. When these anathemic beings attempted to seize Eberron for their own, the goblin empire resisted and waged a war against the invaders the likes of which has never been seen before. And we never be seen again...if my order has anything to say about it. It was druids of my order who saved the world then by closing the gates between worlds and preventing these most foul aberrations from crossing over.

The massive crustacean that was attempting to crush Wynn between its pincers was a chuul, a leftover aberration from that war many thousands of years ago—and I am sworn to send it back into the oblivion from which it came. If only I had regained the Crescent of Therendor sooner, it would have made this fight easier.

After flooding part of the chamber to limit the intrusions of the kobolds on our fight, I shifted into a boa constrictor of considerable size. Although boas were common in the jungles of my homeland, the giants were relatively rare—but not so rare that I'd not had to escape the attack of one myself. Constrictors are fierce predators, skilled on land and in water, tremendously strong, and capable of tying up enemies within their coils. As I altered my form, the sticky kelp-like substance surrounding Hothyr's pool stuck to my body and fixed me firmly in place. With my movements restricted, I wasn't able to get my new serpentine body around the chuul, so I had to settle for sinking my fangs deep into its chitinous plate. (The byeshk blade of the Crescent would have sunk much deeper.) As I was withdrawing my fangs to prepare for another bite, Simel stepped out from behind a wall and sunk several arrows into the chuul, then Wynn stabbed her spear into its mass, lodging deep into armor, flesh, and its vitals. The aberration let out a gutteral shriek and collapsed into the murky waters, sinking slowly but largely in place by the kelp.

We turned our attentions towards the massive water naga. But Hothyr, but upon seeing his protector dispatched, uttered an incantation and three more likenesses of him appeared—then all four Hothyrs dove beneath the surface of the blackwater pool. Arafin, seeing Hothyr flee, dove beneath the surface. At the same moment a new set of bubbles began to froth at the center of the pool: something else was coming.

Magnus by then was nearly at the center of the pool, traversing the surface of the water slowly bur surely, both hindered and enhanced by various magics. Rather than waiting for the new arrival, he dove beneath the surface of the water to welcome it. I must confess: I've seen the courage of humans many times in my life, but only one other have I seen as fearless (or foolhardy) as this one.

In my snake form I was coiled to the side and so I spent the brief pause in combat to free myself from the sticky kelp. Wynn was beside me disentangling herself from the now-slackened grasp of the slain chuul. Clarion was on the other side of her, I am not sure where Aleae was, for I had not seen her since we entered the chamber. She might well have been lingering inside the dark water I'd risen—it was so dark it might as well have been the ink of a great octopus.

As I shook free of the last of the sticky slime a terrible clang rang out from the passage behind us. I have not seen a great deal of combat indoors, but it sounded like an axe resounding off of a stone wall, and it was far louder than I would have ever imagined it to be. I knew something very large must be in the passage behind us and I feared that Aleae was the target of that axe. Wynn and Clarion raced into the passageway to meet the new foe and from the sounds of it, they took more than they gave. For all my new companions' lack of strategy, they are cohesive and quick to rescue one another from danger.

Drawing upon the magic of Eberron herself, I once again reached out to the water in the pool, this time commanding it to part. Instantly, the waters separated, revealing a slimy, stony floor a mere fifteen feet below the rim of the pool. In the spot where the bubbles were coming from there was a circular pit with some sort of membrane stretched across it. The membrane had a slash across it, allowing an entry from the space below. On the far side of the pit, the four Hothyrs were revealed, looking somewhat surprised that the murky waters were no longer sheltering them. Magnus, who was near the pit with the membrane, fell to the ground with a light thud—and yet he rolled over in what I could only describe as rapturous fury. Truly, this human has either perfected the art of rage, or he is utterly mad.

Arafin, who was on the near side of the pit, also fell to the ground without the water to support her, but with a considerably louder thud. Also revealed was some of Hothyr's treasure in the form of a small chest and a couple of objects bound in chains beside it. That might have been difficult to locate in the dark water.

I was confident that moving that much water would flood the passage behind us and at least slow the approach of whatever beast had been wielding that axe. I later learned that the axe had been wielded by an ettin, a two-headed giant that seems inspired by the worst aspects of a hill giant and an orc. Exceptionally dim-witted and strong.

Before I could think to follow my new companions into the passageway, something emerged from the membrane. A moist brain the size of a mastiff began to birth-push its way up and out. As it rose a sharp beak could be seen capping the brain and a vast cluster of tentacles dangling beneath. At the end of each tentacle was a sharp barb capable of delivering a paralytic poison. The creature floated unnaturally upon the air. I know of these aberrations, another hideous species that survived the Daelkyr war. This one was a grell. Grells generally prefer ambush to open combat, but they can be fearsome oppositions.

Magnus pulled himself to his feet, charged into the space between the grell and Hothyr and slammed his massive bone club into the ground, muttering a word in Draconic. In so doing, he unleashed a storm from above and massive chunks of ice rained down from the ceiling onto both Hothyr and the grell. Hothyr shrugged off the ice as if it were no more than a dusting of snow flurries—some sort of spell shield protected him—but the grell seemed to be injured by the storm.

I charged forward and attacked the grell myself, while Simel peppered it with arrows from the pathway that surrounded the mostly-empty pool. Despite my agility as a giant snake, I had great difficulty landing my attacks and desperately wished that I had the Crescent in my hand.

In response to the ice storm, Hothyr mouthed a few magic words and the disappeared from sight. This did not have the feeling of an invisibility spell and I sensed that he had teleported somewhere nearby—he would not likely vacate his lair lair altogether and leave his treasures behind. Nagas are too covetous for that, as indicated by our previous battle against the spirit nags.


With Hothyr out of sight, Magnus joined Simel and I in engaging the grell, but as he did so something flew at us from the southwest corner of the chamber, I think it may have been a small bead or red gem, for when it landed on the ground, it burst into a massive fireball that nearly burned us all. Luck was with us though and our quick reflexes saved our hides, resulting in only a minor crisping around the edges.

At this point, I'll admit, I began to worry. We had been fighting for a long time and had not even begun to touch our primary opponent. Aberrations are not minor creatures and we had already fought two of them! How many more were in store for us? And what had kept Aleae so silent throughout this fight? A wizard capable of the damage that she inflicted on the gricks should be making her presence felt, and yet I could not even tell she was in the room, perhaps she was still within the murky waters?

I tried to coil my snake body around the grell, to constrict it and hold it in place, but it deftly wriggled its tentacles out of my grasp—unfortunately for it, it wriggled right into the path of Magnus's club. The barbarian's strike left it dazed long enough for Simel to bury more arrows deep into the mass at the back of the brain, and at last the grell floated softly to the ground, a graceful death indeed.
As a snake, I have access to senses that my normal form does not—my immediate surroundings were as sharp with smell as with sight—and I was able to sense the presence of a being in the southwest end of the room, in the same direction that the small bead had come from. What's more, it was apparent that there was a commotion of some sort happening behind those waters, so I made my way there. As I approached, there were many forms in the waters: one was definitely Arafin, another Wynn, and I suspect the others were Hothyr and his likenesses. Only the nagas seemed unimpeded by the waters.

Simel, Magnus, and at last Aleae were all loosing arrows into the wall of water that I had created, although it was difficult to tell whether they were finding their targets or not. Clearly, the water that I had parted to such positive effect for us earlier was becoming a hindrance now, so I once again tapped into the power of nature and moved the water, parting it to reveal Hothyr with my new companions surrounding him. I dropped out of my snake form in preparation for using my magic against our foe, but before I had a chance, a bolt of lightning emerged from one of the shields on the wall and shot out towards the opposite end of the chamber. Arafin, Wynn, and I were all scorched painfully by its force.

The arrows that had been loosed had clearly done some damage, because instead of finding four Hothyrs, there was only one remaining. Arafin and Hothyr were entangled in each other, desperately attempting to sink their fangs into flesh. Wynn was grievously wounded, with at least one of our party's own arrows lodged into her back. Clarion was on the far side of Hothyr and while I cannot be sure, I think I spied a bit of a smile in his eyes, although his construct's face did not reveal anything. Certainly his gemstones eyes had flared brighter now.

Clarion swung out with his weapon—a simple if well-made metal staff—and connected solidly with Hothyr's coils. The naga's concentration lapsed and the spell-resisting shimmer surrounding his body disappeared, then Clarion whispered a word of prayer, sidestepped one of Hothyr's coils and brought one end of his staff down on Hothir's head when it snaked within the warforged's reach. There was an immediate blinding light and what seemed to be the sound of thunder reverberating through the chamber. Hothyr's body went limp immediately and when my vision cleared, I noticed that there no longer seemed to be a head on the body. It had utterly exploded under the force of whatever spell Clarion had used.

Simel plunged himself back into the murky waters heading towards the ettin, but returned a few seconds later to tell us that the monster had stomped off in retreat. The dark waters I'd risen had kept the two-headed giant from entering the fray.

With the battle suddenly gone silent, we surveyed the chamber. At the far end were a set of steps leading up from the pool to a dias of some sort and resting on the dais was the Crescent of Therendor! At that moment, emotion overwhelmed me. All of the heartache of the last few months washed over me. I didn't realize what this weapon meant to me, the blade of my friend, my mentor, and my adopted father; I thought it was lost to me forever. Being reunited with it moments after avenging Duran was simply too much and I cried for a bit beyond the sight of the others.

When I was able to regain my composure, I saw the others gathered around the chest. The chest was filled with gems of considerable worth, but little else. What was more interesting was the bow that was wrapped in chains to weigh it down in the water. It was a long bow fashioned from darkwood that nearly resembled the skin of those who obviously had made it: the drow of the Sulatar tribe. The bow had all of the markings and inscriptions of my homeland, as well as two dragonshards at either end of the bowstring. This weapon most certainly had an elemental bound to it to harness the fire magics of my tribe. I relayed some of its nature to the group, but they seemed more interested in a scepter that Magnus had found wrapped with it.

Apparently, this scepter of steel and bronze was what they had been searching for to aid them in fighting the vampire lord who, according to them, governed the dungeons of Glyphstone, Trazzen. I do not know if it was coincidence that I joined this group or not, but it seems clear that our paths are entwined at this time. The stink of aberration is thick in this keep and I must find out if the seals are secure.

Of additional interest is the fact that this Trazzen is allegedly a hobgoblin who, in life, had ruled in the time of the Dhakaani Empire.

How powerful was a vampire thousands of years old?

#109 - Lair of the Water Naga

From the Journal of Clarion Tritone, Champion of Dol Arrah, Vassal of the Sovereign Host 

Arafin had an air about her which was alike to what I felt in the presence of the wizard lords of Arcanix. Her demeanor was akin to that of a queen. Yet the suffering she had endured within and indubitably witnessed from the metallic cage that had her pinned to the wall in one of the corners of these unusual and twisted halls had unquestionably left deep marks in her scaled skin and soul. The loss of her eternal companion, not to death—which understandably had little meaning to these immortal beings than to most souls—but to undeath seemed to cast the greatest sadness upon her. Certainly, we would do what she asked and ensure that he will be restored to his former self if in any way possible or lain to eternal rest if necessary.

And old adventurer's drawing
of a guardian naga (like Arafin).

While we were waiting within the impenetrable bubble that would ensure that we could fully rest before this upcoming battle we spoke very little. Aleae returned to us, released from the erratic "captivity" of her Wand of Wonder. Even after introducing Izzeth to her, she regarded him with—if not with disdain, then perhaps with an oblique manner. Izzeth is elven in appearance, but not wholly. There is obvious human blood in his heritage, yet the dusky hue of his skin suggests the ancestry of dark elves. I confess I know little of the drow race save that they hail from the continent of Xen'drik and share a history with elves that traces somehow back through time to the eladrin (or high elves) that is Aleae's kind. The heritage and mingling of flesh and blood creatures will always remain something of a mystery to me.

While we took our repose, Arafin slept nearby for short periods at a time. Once she disappeared for a brief period, returning with the limp body of a kobold and proclaimed in dignified triumph that she had been able to impress the importance of not interfering with her to at least some of the innumerable kobold lurking within the warrens beyond our sight. At least, we expected to be untroubled by those kobolds who served the two spirit nagas we had slain. Arafin explained that to these deep-dwelling creatures, the nagas were revered like gods.

The light with which Talor has blessed our weapons seemed to sound strongly in my ears during these hours. But as much as I feel the slight oscillation within the dragonhawk banner, the words he spoke to me within his halls struck far more powerful chords. I pray they will guide me towards choices that honor the eternal grace and power of the Light. I sense a brightening of some of the most gruesome darknesses within my core. I wished I could say with certainty that I would be able to bear the burden of knowing what Talor keeps safe beneath his halls without his words. Never can I forget this sight, the darkness it drew, or the stories it tells.

Bad nagas are not nice.

While it may seem as if we have different reasons, gods, or methods guiding us on this journey, I have long held a strong belief that we are guided and our paths prepared to be walked together so that we can thwart the plans of the demon rajah Katashka and his numberless servants. Piece by piece, bit by bit we must prepare our final onslaught on Trazzen and the allies he has gathered within the keep. Among us, Aleae and I alone share the burden of knowing why we must drive those forces away from here, the immense potential that lies within what has fallen here and lies hidden, hopefully forever.

To our task at hand:

Our overall tactical position was clear and not encouraging. Our foes, the powerful water naga Hothyr and his monstrous servants had plenty of time to prepare for our attack, certainly fortifying their defenses and replenishing their resources, just as much as we had gathered our strength and replenished our powers to prevail in this upcoming battle. From the descriptions of Izzeth and Arafin, we knew that we could certainly expect many kobolds and their traps and deceptions before us. Some kobolds live in the cities of the Five Nations, often underfoot, overlooked, and disdained, but in their natural subterranean environs they are cunning, if cowardly creatures. In addition, Izzeth spoke of tunnel-dwelling worms called gricks—known for their ability to blend unnoticeably against stone. And there may be a host of unknown and even unknowable creatures lying ready and waiting for our assault.

Of one curious fact imparted by Arafin  I drew some comfort: The nagas were not cohorts of Trazzen, merely tenuous allies within Glyphstone's dungeon with some kind of truce. Even Talor had advised us to challenge the spirit nagas and free Arafin, but we could also have bypassed their lair and gone straight to find to Trazzen without involving them at all. In the end, I know it was right to engage these perils, release this noble creature, and recover the Scepter of Glyphstone that we now knew Hothyr guarded. We expected fierce resistance, yet our path was righteous and therefore I did not doubt that we would prevail, following the powerful strings with which the Sovereign Host and Dol Arrah would guide us and with which we were bound together as a group.

Before we ventured up the stairs toward Hothyr's lair, Izzeth enacted spells that would allow us to breath under water (for those among us who breathed at all) as well as walk upon the surface of any water—two boons that could prove especially useful given the nature of our foe. I summoned my unseen servant to accompany me on this path and after I spoke a few prayers to Dol Arrah, bolstering myself and some of my allies, we ventured up the stairs, onward to slay this monster.

Our movement through the first few turns of passage was undisturbed. We were on high alert, very much expecting an ambush from one of the kobold-sized tunnels ending along the sides at any moment.

I was leading the guard, with Arafin towering behind me, as we approached the position at which the druid Izzeth had previously encountered the gricks. For a moment as I was studying the walls. I sent a light ahead of us, taking the shape of my lost comrade Athalea as it moved, driven by the slight taps I produced on his drum. Suddenly I could distinctly make out the outlines of four gricks attached at various locations along the walls ahead, clearly waiting for us, meaning to surprise.

“Halt, we have company,” I spoke softly while I unleashed arrows into the backs of the closest two gricks. Simel loosed arrows of his own, and Aleae conjured her signature ice rays. The four shapes I had discerned all sprung into action. Suction-covered tentacles peeled back as the gricks became aggressive, revealing a beak-like mouth as they slithered down the wall.

This may have been an effect of the long days without true daylight and battling through the halls of Glyphstone Keep, and is unlikely to be of any significance, but some of the gricks appeared to have an unusual blue sheen to them which I certainly understood to be uncharacteristic for their kind. [DM interjection: Hah hah. Laugh it up, tin man.]

Aleae promptly responded by setting the path ahead of us ablaze with a well-placed fireball, which immediately expired three of the gricks, leaving the fourth badly wounded. Shrieks from around the corners told of more targets than could be seen having being hit. “Well done,” commented Arafin graciously, flashing an approving, toothy smile at Aleae.

During the Last War, one of my commanders was fond of the expression "sisters in spells" to describe female and magic-using soldiers in our ranks. Arafin was a large serpentine creature and obviously quite strong, but she favored the use of magic over brute force. From that point on, Aleae seemed to be in her favor.

If you see a Fireball at this angle,
Aleae is trying to kill someone, or
something, to your immediate left.
If she's mad at you, you might be
within its radius, though (so be careful).

A few kobolds emerged from a small tunnels ahead and gricks, some badly burnt, came rushing around both nearby corners. Weapons were swung and arrows pierced the air in all directions but the remainder of our foes were no match and indeed only one of the gricks managed to land a hit, striking me as I lifted my shield to catch an arrow.

Before I had truly noticed movements from where we had come, another fireball by Aleae now turned the path behind us into a small inferno, which had a similar effect than the first; countless shrieks and thumps accompanied many of our foe’s demise. A surviving kobold we had in sight ahead rushed as quickly as it could into a small passage and the silence that followed some quickly fading clattering from all directions made it clear that we had made quite the impression, at least on these kobolds, leaving behind a large series of grick carcasses, most of which were still smoking. The passage reeked of burnt flesh.

Still cautious, we proceeded further towards more worthy foes. As we approached what we knew was the main chamber of Hothir’s lair we found a layer of kelplike sludge clinging to the edges of a great pool of dark water, which stretched far out of sight across the long chamber. The pool blended almost seamlessly with the hard and narrow marble walkway that surrounded it. Water and scum made even this solid surface treacherous to move upon.

Once we had all gathered by the entrance of the room and taken our first steps into the dark, we heard familiar draconic mutterings and distant barks followed by a kobold rushing out of the tunnels to our left. One of the kobolds sent a small clay pot flying our way, but except for a few vapors rising as it shattered it had no effect. Once Magnus had smashed it into the pool, more sprang from the tunnels. When Magnus blasted the next one with his mace, one of the clay devices it was carrying erupted in a cloud of yellow vapors. Under its effect, magical sluggishness took hold of the human. It slowed his body, but clearly not his determination or his anger.

Izzeth, our new companion, had prepared well for this fight and was able to command large amounts of the water from the pool to fill the room up to the ceiling—though this use of druidic magic was not immediately apparent, and many of us were engulfed without warning in the brackish soup. The wall of water rose from the pool, blocking some views and possibly flooding the nearest kobold tunnels. We were still to discover whether this would keep their attacks at bay.

Able to traverse the surface of water as easily as solid ground, Magnus stepped out to engage an enemy I could not see. I heard the splashing of water and a deep-throated roar of a monster surging up from the pool. Hothyr himself? I didn't think so, as nagas were not so noisy.

Once emerged from the water I found an ogre-sized aberration of horrendous appearance towering high near the water’s edge, drawn up from depths of Khyber unfathomable. It had the massive pincers and armor like some monstrous crustacean but the ferocity and color of a troll, innumerable flailing tentacles that almost seemed to burst from its head, all mixed with something unspeakably twisted and dark.

I positioned myself in front of the creature hoping to draw most of its attention with a series of blows as most of my companions as well as Arafin were striking the creature from all angles. Simel unleashed barrages of arrows from afar and taunted the creature masterfully, while Wynn engaged it with her polearm and drew most of its attentions. She even managed to force the beast down into an awkward angle. To my right, Izzeth began to move and in the blink of an eye he transformed from his elflike body into that of a great constrictor snake! It will take some getting used to, having a companion who can become an animal on a whim.

From the corner of my view I noticed something else large slithering along the water surface. Hothyr had emerged—even larger and fiercer than I had expected, making even Arafin appear somewhat slight. A shimmer familiar from the battlefields of Karrnath surrounded him; he must have been protected by a spell-shield. If we wanted to stand a chance against this villainous beast we would have to first dispel this barrier or we were at a tremendous disadvantage.

My weapon beckons, the powers that Talor has bestowed upon it must sense that a great evil is present and seek to unleash their full wrath upon it.

We must cleanse this place!

#108 - Serpentine Strife

The battle raged on. Aleae, by the quixotic magic of the Wand of Wander, was not present to comment or interfere with the arrival of the earth elemental.

As the PCs pressed their attacks, alternately helped and hindered by the swiveling anti-magic eye, the elemental—which Simel commanded—turned its efforts unsubtly against armored prison of Arafin the naga. In short order, Arafin was freed—though it was clear she had sustained much abuse—and Magnus and Cypher both worked to remove the metal binding that kept her from speaking or using magic. The antimagic weakened the metal, and Cypher at least tore it away.

She rose to her considerable height, wounded but noble, clearly bowed under the weight of many indignities. Her scales were an iridescent green, her face an almost metallic bronze, her hair long and black, and she spoke as one accustomed to being served. Though, she did thank the PCs for rescuing her and was quick to cast a healing spell upon Magnus (who often appears to be trying to evacuate his veins).

With the help of the druid Izzeth—the others recognized druidic magic from their time with Dar—Wynn, Magnus, Cypher, Simel, and Clarion slew their foes except for the two nagas. The female shouted in the Draconic tongue to her companion that they must flee, but the male was stubborn and refused to abandon their anti-magic toy to the trespassers. While the female retreated outright into a side passage, the male lingered. The PCs pressed their advantage, and even the earth elemental was sent stomping across the chamber to kill him. Immortality apparently emboldened him, but in short order, he was slain at last. The coils of his body dropped heavily to the ground, and the female was nowhere to be seen.

Some of the PCs wished to give chase, though Arafin warned that she was spent of her magic and needed rest to help. Clarion produced some light and offered to help lead Simel into the passages beyond.

Then everyone felt a sudden tremor, and the distant and primal, fearsome sound of falling rock. Izzeth recognized the sound of a cave-in from the direction they were going, and Arafin, horrified, called everyone to move back! When the sound subsided, the tremors ceased, and the dust rolled in, they found that the passages where they were attempting to pursue the female naga has been utterly collapsed but that the area of effects was limited due to the positioning of the anti-magic ray. Evidently whatever had caused the cave-in had intended to bury the PCs as well. Yet no further threat presented itself…for now.

In the brief period of rest that followed, Simel set the earth elemental to guard them. She explained locally what was going on down here:

The spirit nagas who’d held her captive were named Lanün (the brown-scaled male, now slain) and Myalla (the purple-and-blue-scaled female, likely slain by the cave-in). As nagas, they would be reborn—according to Arafin, this could range from many hours to several days. Their slain bodies would wither away and somewhere nearby, they would manifest again. Several dark nagas (a lesser species, according to Arafin), some of which the PCs had faced before (and two of which has been killed recently) served Lanün and Myalla, and all of the nagas were served by a community of deep-dwelling kobolds that lived in the the narrow warrens running through these chambers.

According to those who know about the Overlords,
undeath itself is the product of Katashka's evil.

There was a third and more dangerous naga, however, named Hothyr—a water-dwelling variety of greater size, strength, and magic. He was to the spirit nagas, in human terms, something akin to an old uncle. They deferred to him. Izzeth spoke up and said that he’d recently awoken in the lair of this one, Hothyr, but he had escaped. According to Izzeth, Hothyr and his own monsters—kobolds and tunnel worms called gricks—were well aware of him and would not likely be surprised. Indeed, they might expect an ambush if the group chose to confront him. Arafin did say that Hothyr’s lair would contain what they were after: the Scepter of Glyphstone (the item Irakas, the hobgoblin dirgesinger had asked them to recover). She would help them, if this is what they decided, but she preferred that they rest for a great deal longer so she could regain her strength and her spells. Quite matter-of-factly, she said she expected to be killed if they pressed on now.

Although she was happy to help the PCs take on Hothyr and reclaim the scepter, she addressed the larger problem: The arrival of the rakshasa known as Avashad and the many enemies he’d brought to Glyphstone. The most recent was the vampire, Trazzen, with whom some of the PCs were already acquainted. Wherever Avashad installed servants, the undead were always to be found, for he served the great demon rajah Katashka.

The first (and most common) Gatekeepers are orcs
and half-orcs. But the sect, while small, also includes
shifters, humans, and the occasional elf-blood.

Arafin was vague on the timeline, but it sounded as though Avashad had come some time ago and installed his allies within the lower dungeons of Glyphstone Keep. Avashad’s servants joined with the spirits nagas and this shifted the balance of power between the nagas of Glyphstone. Arafin was taken captive (killing her would only lead to her rebirth), while her mate, Loravin, a male guardian naga, was taken by Avashad himself. She fears that he has been transformed into something unnatural, possibly even undead. Arafin’s only caveat in helping the PCs is that they aid her in rescuing—or, if necessary, destroying whatever Loravin has become. Undeath is the worst fate for an immortal Arafin would rather her mate be destroyed than endure in such a form.

The strange eye-device that created the anti-magic effect was something Magnus and Cypher took much interest in, though Izzeth seemed disgusted by it. Arafin said that they would not be able to make prolonged use of it, for it required maintenance of some kind—which included bathing it in "Hothyr's pool." The eye appeared to resemble that of a beholder's, but it was clearly disembodied and kept functioning.

During their talk, Izzeth explained that he was one of the Gatekeepers, a druidic sect that only Cypher and Magnus had heard of before—their former companion Cyzicus had been affiliated with them. He had come to Glyphstone with two companions, but both had been killed by their enemies. One of them had even been devoured by the naga Hothyr. Izzeth wanted revenge.

The group decided after some discussion that they sorely needed to rest more than a single hour before pressing on. It was a risk, as there were many enemies to be found. Arafin said, though, that the arrangement between the evil nagas and Avashad’s group was not one of partnership; they were not working together, but had merely made allowances for one another and agreed to combat common foes (such as the PCs!).

Cypher, meanwhile, had become quieter than usual. Talk of Gatekeepers seemed to make him so.