#117 - Bones of Contention and Chaos

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

My head is spinning.

Simel is dead, I said a few words over his body and then took his items and then we mangled his corpse, hoping to keep him from being taken by Trazzen and turned into something awful. Death underground is the worst. I hope to die where I can be burned and my ashes will rise to the sky. Left in a pile in a dungeon is no way to end. I am sorry, Simel, we did our best by you and we are still running.

We find ourselves led by Bale the Dark Elf. He reminds me of Xoma, but somehow less cheerful. We haven’t had time to sort him out, but he knows the lower halls of Glyphstone better than we do and he insists we have only hours to save Breland from “the Cauldron.”  I don’t understand why we trust him, but he has slain some of our enemies and helped us hide. We are so depleted and tired, any help is welcome.

Bale covered us in an illusion, one that could affect our entire party. He now looks like the Blue Wraith, and seems to be able to speak like him. The rest of us appear as the silent suits of animated armor that we have seen a few times in the company of that now-dead wizard. We can’t tell who is who, but hopefully the illusion works on the locals as well as it does on us.

After killing the undead escort sent by Trazzen to gather the Blue Wraith, we turned and headed for where Bale says the Cauldron should be, guarded by Trazzen and many Gnolls—and Khyber knows what else. We have no real hope of surviving any real fight. Weak and depleted of all spells and abilities, we are like villagers hiding under a sheet during a raid. Our best plan is to use our illusion to see what is going on and maybe then develop a plan.

We needed rest most of all.  Bale is pushing us and I’m not sure we can live up to his expectations.
Then, in our midst, Aleae returns from her wand, summoned out of the air by her fey magic. It takes some whispered words from Clarion to let her know we are all with her under our disguises. She hears our familiar voices to convince her that we are as Clarion has described. She is not disguised and so she walks in our midst or behind us with Arafin and Rungo.

Just after that, a familiar voice from the darkness mocks our newfound stealth. It was Sarrel, the oni we met in the upper levels. He said that he has been among the enemy and all is much as Bale has described: Cauldron, gnolls, Trazzen, and dire times for Breland. He recounted that our work underground was making Trazzen nervous, for we disappeared for some time as we consorted with powerful wizards, an angel, an nagas. And slew his spawn, Halbazar, our old friend. Our moving about has created mystery, and I hope trouble, for the vampire's work.

Sarrel said that we must act quickly and that he can help us. I confirmed for him that we indeed now possessed the Scepter of Glyphstone and are ready to give it to Irakis in the throne room above. He said she still lived, but that she had been discovered and even besieged. Sarrel advises us that we should get to her and give her the Scepter, for with it she may be able to get "Glyphstone itself" to help us deal with Trazzen.

We need that help.

Perhaps she can send the giant golem she commands from the throne room to help. Perhaps there are more powers with the scepter. She might even be able to send some of the goblin horde from the plains above to help re-take the keep. That was my hope, anyway..

We need help.

So this was Sarrel's counsel, and the whole group agreed that this was best. But we needed to get past the levels between us and Irakas. A large encampment of gnolls was the primary danger, but Bale and the oni have both mentioned other foes—the cohorts Trazzen brought to help him with the Cauldron. Above the gnoll army is a level that has been mostly collapsed, but above that is the level with the throne room and Irakas. We just needed to get there.

Aleae says she has one spell of invisibility left. She could also see well in the dark. She was swift and silent. I give her the Scepter. We all agree that whatever happened, she was to sneak away however she can and deliver it to Irakas. She was entrusted. The oni also offered to grant her a spell of movement so that nothing could slow or hinder her. He also cast a spell of healing for most of us, asking us if we would accept a "benediction from the Shadow." I am already marked by that dark god—what did it matter?

We could not fight our way to Irakas, so we accepted this help. Sarrel also agreed to move among the gnoll army, sowing seeds of confusion, if we can develop a plan. Cypher had an idea. He had acquired a bag of enchanted bones that, if they were planted in earth or sand, could sprout forth some unpredictable magical effect—perhaps not unlike the powers of Aleae's wand. It was a gamble. He did not know what effects would come forth, whether good or bad, but we believed that if we can get them buried in a few locations around the gnolls' camp, perhaps whatever happened would distract them and let us move past. Sarrel would do the planting. It was our best plan.

Bale used some magic to create dirt from the stone around us. I give my shirt as a bag for him to carry some dirt in, while cloaks and blankets were offered by the others. Sarrel took his packages and headed up, among the gnolls, instructing us to wait and listen and be ready to move. We did. heard nothing.

Cypher and Clarion start urging us up the stairs silently.  Soon, gnoll barks, grunts, and shouts indicated that something was happening. It was time.

Still covered by Bale's illusion—that he was the Blue Wraith and we his armored guards—we left the stairwell and emerged in an enormous cavern filled with gnolls of every size and description. Tents, fire pits, bone spits...even hyenas gathered like hunting dogs. But they were distracted by something to one side of the cavern, then another. Then another. Harpies flew past, calling out that there was a "walking tree" somewhere. The work of Cypher's bones?

With Bale-as-the-Blue-Wraith in the lead we hurried through one side of the great encampment, weaving past hurrying gnolls and tents. Most most of them ignored us, some gnolls did challenge us—we talked our way past the first ones, then Bale actually attacked the next pair. We slew them quickly without raising any great alarm.

When we drew close to the stairwell up—our destination—and we are stopped by a ranking, scimitar-wielding harpy and two more gnolls. Pointing at Bale, but seeing the Blue Wraith, she exclaimed, "You live?! Explain!"

By way of explanation, Bale attacked, so we all did. Izzeth held one of the gnolls with a spell, and we all tore into the harpy, hoping to keep her from flying off or singing. Cypher launched his crossbow bolts, while Wynn lashed out with her polearm. Somehow in the confusion, a tiny winged and draconic form appeared next to Aleae. A faerie dragon! They are a source of mystery and folklore even among the Seren tribes—like the little cousins of gods. I had never seen one, and this was a very strange and inconvenient time to do so. Questions for later!

The little dragon spoke in a flowery language with Aleae, then with expected courage darted forward expelled a cloud of colored dust upon the harpy. Soon the she-monster went crashing down, unable to raise any alarm. The second gnoll, however, ran away and started to howl. We were exposed. As a group we ran for the stair.

I am exhausted and bleeding, the rest of us are barely held together and staggering as we run.

My head is spinning.

#116 - A Grim Escort

From the journal of Diva’un Mur'ss, last of House Zaughym, Bale of Nightfall, Drinker of the Blood of Erebus the Thrice Unforgiven, Bringer of Darkness

Hope is weakness. Hope betrayed me. Without hope I would have bided my time and betrayed Katashka at a moment of my choosing. But I let myself believe for a moment that great events could be altered. I allowed hope in a coalition of heroes who Katashka had taken notice of, who had defeated all who had stood against them.

Now as I surveyed them, I was left with a single question. How does such an unlikely assemblage of disparate rogues manage to murder their way into prophecy?

I had prevailed upon them the urgency of preventing Katashka’s servants from unleashing The Mire of True Hunger on the world. I had spoken of the war that would surely result, of the pestilence that would spread and the loosening of Katashka’s bonds. The best I could do was convince them to merely rest for an hour instead of sleeping for the night. Faced with their intransigence, I agreed to summon a sphere of protection that would at least allow them take their leisure uninterrupted.

Once the protection formed, I called Durag back from his banishment. He assumed his usual bat form and clung to my arm, squeaking. His presence was a comfort, but not his words. For while my new acquaintances merely heard animal vocalizations, in my mind Durag spoke. Avashad will kill you. Avashad will destroy me. These creatures have clouded your mind. Slay them all and you may be forgiven. Slay them while they sleep and we will be rewarded.

“It is done.” I answered through our telepathic bond. “There is no turning back. We must prevail against Lumeris, Avashad, and Katashka. Look on them. Consider them your friends. For if they fall then I fail, and if I fail, Avashad will consume all that you are."

Durag grew quiet. Then he loosed a plaintive squeak. The dragon lover smells.

It was a moment of humor and I was afraid there would be few enough of those in my future.

There was the sound of leather slapping metal.

“Grt mrrr unt!” Cypher, who had been examining a cloak we had found in Alain’s wardrobe and, in trying it on, he found himself suddenly wrapped in a living creature of batlike aspect. Of membranous and leathery folds.

Durag squeaked again, cheered by this development. Perhaps their stupidity will slay them for us.

Cypher's voice was muffled by his attacker's flesh and he flailed to pull free from its embrace. He was fortunate he was not a living and breathing creature, for the embrace of a cloaker means suffocation.

This was a foolish fate. A dome of perfect protection doesn’t help when you bring your foes in with you.

With little room to maneuver we all attempted to damage the creature without hurting Cypher, but it was not cooperating. The cloaker sported teeth and a sharp-tipped tail, which found its mark cutting my arm.

“Rowww!” said Cypher as I blasted him and his tormenter with eldritch energies.

Cypher finally managed to wrestle free and we finished off the flapping thing before it could try to suffocate a member of our party who actually needed to breath.

Perhaps a rest is appropriate.  They don’t look up to another battle.

Magnus, flopped back onto the corner of Alain’s bed, heedless of the danger of being smothered by it and we resumed our rest as best as we could on the stone floor. Clarion conjured an unseen servant, who he tasked once again with carrying a stack of shields. I do not understand why he needs four additional shields. Wynn wrapped her injuries. Izzeth stared at me. I recognize undiluted drow hatred, even if his blood is thin.

After our rest, we exited the sphere to find Arafin dozing with her eyes slitted open, periodically refreshed by a nictating membrane. She started awake and we all froze in place as a loud banging rang through the chamber from the outermost door of Alain's chamber. Something strong was obviously knocking. The knock repeated and it was decided we attempt deception.

“Go away," I yelled in my best imitation of the Blue Wraith's voice. "I must rest and recover my spent powers.”

“The master summons you,” came the muffled and very guttural reply. The speaker was either a brute, or undead. Perhaps both.

“I must rest, come back later," I replied. "The interlopers have headed back the way they came.”

“What of the drow?”

I looked at my new companions and speaking more truth than they could possibly understand, I answered, “He is dead.”

“You must report," the speaker said. This was getting us nowhere.

"I require five minutes to ready myself."

“I can lead them away,” Cypher offered. “I can appear as The Blue Wraith.”  He opened one of the potions he carried releasing a stored magic which altered his appearance quite convincingly. One moment, he was his warforged self, the next he looked exactly like Alain ir'Valesh.

The party seemed split about Cypher taking the risk. While he countered that he was of little use for now and was otherwise spent, I thought the risk would be too great, especially because he didn’t sound like the mage he impersonated.

Finally I revealed my most powerful magic. One I had hoped to save until the last moment, but that moment seemed to be upon me. By using one of the few remaining spells contained in my torc, I could cause all of us to seem as other than what we were.

After another stalling exchange with whatever waited on us beyond the Blue’s Wraith’s antechamber, we decided that I would appear as the room's former occupant and the rest of the party would be concealed as his bodyguards, the walking suits of armor he had animated. I argued that Arafin could be disguised as one of the evil nagas that inhabited these caves, but she vociferously declined.


In agreement, I held the Torc of House Zaughym and used its most powerful spell to hide us all. In the moment I decided Arafin’s pride shouldn’t condemn us to discovery and clothed her in illusion as well.

Seeing that she wore the visage of one of the enemy nagas, she rose to her full height angrily and spit a caustic poison at my feet.

“If you do not take me to my mate," she said, "I will kill you myself."

We all stood ready as Magnus removed the spikes from the outer door and opened it. In the hallway beyond stood a ghoulishly decayed hobgoblin whose odor was highly offensive, the zombie of an ogre, and one of the few undead beholders Trazzen has placed on patrol. It was quite the escort.

The hobgoblin was the only one of the three capable of speech—and of thinking at all. It stepped aside to let us out and then led the way west. The ogre filed after it and the long-dead beholder floated behind us. None of the creatures seemed to question my armored escort, and my ruse as the Blue Wraith was effective.

Cypher’s Rungo and the illusory-masked Arafin stayed behind and only followed us at a distance.

We continued westward through the columned hallway until, having passed the corridor we had entered from, it was clear we were not headed toward the Rumdhal Cauldron. Where, then, were we supposed to report?

I cleared my throat, mentioning that “It was too bad that I had forgotten to buy a new cauldron.” I was never comfortable with unplanned dissembling. I bent low to tighten the strap on my boot, hoping the rest would be ready for what would happen next. I focused my energies, sprinted towards that rear where the beholder floated, and unleashed four blasts of dark energy, hexing it. Fortunately, our escort were not quick to react to our attack.

Although some of its necrotic flesh was blasted away, the undead beholder showed little sign that I inflicted upon it power that I had used many times with fatal results. Magnus charged the two creatures that had been leading us, bashing the debased hobgoblin, while the remainder of the group attacked the beholder.  Wynn was able to strike repeatedly with both ends of her partisan, a weapon with unusual reach. Cypher was reduced to merely firing crossbow bolts from the inventive arm attachment of his—understandable in his depleted state. Izzeth brought a powerful beam of moonlight down upon the suspended ball of malevolence which caused it to begin to smoke. Clarion ran forward and grappled the thing with his own hands, keeping it from retreating.

The struggle continued despite all of our attacks. Although blinded in death of its central eye, the beholder turned one of its bent eyestalks upon Clarion, damaging him gravely with a mere gaze. Clarion released the thing and swung his staff instead. All of us focused our attacks but the beholder held its ground until finally it looked up into the light that was burning it. It hovered for a moment, winced with its remaining eyestalks, then fell hard to the ground, smoldering from the radiant light.

Behind us, Magnus had held his two opponents at bay while we finished the rear guard.

I ran to join him, again sending my most lethal attack against the ghastly hobgoblins, staggering it but not felling it. All of our attacks weakened but didn’t stop the two undead monsters, until Izzeth once again brought the silver-white beam of light down upon them. Injured as they were, the conjured moonlight seemed to stab at them from all sides, and both creatures fell to the stone floor, truly dead.

Even as desperate as this “Winter Coalition” is, they have some fight in them.

Hope is weakness and I have hope.

#115 - Ingression and Reflection

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

After we slew our undead assailants, Bale led us to the door of the Blue Wraith's chambers. Cypher inspected it and informed us that it was safe to open. Magnus wasted no time in rushing in to see if a bed might be found. He got a few steps into the first chamber before Bale loosed a warning, "Be careful, you fool, there may be traps."


In an uncharacteristic display of restraint, Magnus halted in his tracks and allowed Cypher to assess the path ahead. He did not do so successfully. As he advanced, we heard a quiet sound of stone sliding. Almost immediately afterwards, a series of clicks and whirrs emanated from within the room followed by the loud thud of Magnus hitting the floor. Wynn raced to the door and dragged Magnus from the room. A number of sleek darts had shot through the chamber, and two of them were protruding from Magnus’s back. Undoubtedly they were poisoned, else he may not have even noticed them.


I would not allow Magnus to die such an ignominious death. I placed my hands upon his tattooed and calloused skin and called upon the magics taught to me by the Gatekeepers. A faint green mist formed about my hands and coalesced on his back, it then seeped into his body and his wounds closed, pushing out the darts and purging some of the poison.

Cypher continued his work. I'm not sure he even noticed that the trap he’d sprung had felled Magnus. He certainly showed no concern for the enormous human. After a few minutes he declared that the area was clear, but we should avoid the pressure plate, as he was not sure whether it would trigger the trap again. He did take greater pains to point out the affected area.

We all filed into the antechamber, except for Bale and Clarion who remained outside as sentries. On one end was a well-wrought door made of wood with iron bands and an intricate looking lock that Cypher was inspecting. The rest of the chamber was unadorned and seemed quite plain. I was definitely not comfortable with Bale being outside the door. Did he know that there were more traps and was keeping himself out of harm's way?

Cypher attempted to pick the lock, but gave up after a few minutes, informing us that magic was helping to secure the door and had made the lock itself exceedingly resistant to picking. He then began to rummage through his pack. If only Aleae had been here, her knowledge of magic was quite astounding alas; she had vanished into her wand after the last skirmish. I am still not sure if that is a function of the Wand of Wonder, or of Aleae herself.

In a flash of inspiration, I surmised that perhaps the Blue Wraith's ring might allow us to gain passage. I moved up to the door and touched the ring to the lock, but the only thing I gained was Cypher's attention. He snatched at the ring, but I was quicker. These warforged can be quite rude, although I did let him examine it when he asked.

Meanwhile, Bale took a suspicious black powder from his belt pouch and began to scribe a circle on the floor while chanting. I have seen these black magics in the past. It is the way one calls upon a fiend. I quickly scatted the powder and confronted him. He hastily backpedaled and attempted to convince me that he was merely trying to divine whether we would be safe resting here or not.

I allowed him to continue, but kept a close eye on his ritual; I don't think the others are aware of the powers that he is playing with. When he had completed his ritual, he told us that this was not a safe place for a rest. I suspect he has not told us the whole truth.

Seeing the door as an obstacle to his finding a bed, Magnus confidently strode up and attempted to break it down. Cypher, finishing his rummaging, produced a crowbar and the strongest among us—Clarion, Wynn, and Magnus—took turns attempting to force the door. When they had exhausted themselves trying, I took a few attempts. With no progress, Arafin turned to Bale and commanded him to try next.

Truly, Bale looked indignant. I have seen that look once before when my father was informed that he would have to wash his own laundry because the slave who would have normally done it had been whipped to death for oversleeping. Suffice to say that the messenger in that instance had not been spared.

A sweat began to break on Bale's brow before he even began his first attempt. He simply could not believe his predicament, and yet, he strode to the door and worked himself to exhaustion with every ounce of his strength on the crowbar, not that it did any good. This was a drow accustomed to solving his problems with dark magic, not the strength of his arms.

Not that any of us were more successful. We were about to give up and take our chances by resting before the door when the iron dog—I think Cypher calls it Rungo—moved towards the door. She wedged her metal claws into the crack between the frame and the door and heaved, cracking the wood around the hinges. At last, we were through! On the other side was another suit of animated armor, which we wasted no time defeating.

The Blue Wraith's chambers were rather small and spartan. There was a bed in the corner, which Magnus nearly broke when he dove onto it heedless of any threat. On one wall was a tall mirror firmly attached to the wall. Opposite the mirror was a sizeable wardrobe and some water barrels. Off to one side was a simple table with a large tome opened upon it.

We set about checking and securing the area. Wynn inspected the mirror and quickly tried to pry it from the wall, while Cypher went to the book. I went towards the wardrobe and Clarion began to call upon his divine senses for assistance. Bale prepared to create a safe place for us to rest by conjuring an extradimensionally-protected dome like the one we had used the previous day.

The wardrobe was filled with many very high quality ornate robes and cloaks, but one stood out. It was very heavy and appeared to be crafted from a black leathery substance that reminded me of the skin of a giant bat, complete with bony claws that formed a clasp. I fastened it to my pack so that we could inspect it later and began to check the walls for secret passages—we did not want to be surprised while we rested.

As Bale began his magic, a shimmer appeared in the air and a hemisphere began to emerge. We gathered within it, except for Arafin who would not fit. Once inside, we debated how long to rest for. Bale was adamant that we could not afford to rest for long, because the “Cauldron” he referred to was soon to release its evil upon Sharn. We were clearly in no position to defeat the keepers of the Cauldron as we were all completely depleted of our resources. After all arguments were heard, we decided that the best course of action would be to rest for an hour and regain some strength, then scout out the Cauldron and its protectors. Only when we knew what were up against could be determine our chances of success. We also knew that our current position was not safe and wanted to be moving onward.

As we rested, I meditated on recent events.

The last 40 years had been peaceful for me. I lived in harmony with nature. I watched the flowers bloom each spring. I harvested herbs when they ripened. I saw the saplings emerge and grow year by year. I followed the seasons like a bear, hibernating in the winters, emerging in the springs, roaming in the summers and gathering in the autumns. I shared adventures and exciting times with my adopted father Iowerth, but the pace of things had been relaxed. Perhaps the incredible pace of this last week is nature's way of maintaining balance.

Three days ago, I was perched around a campfire with Duran and Ket. We were attempting to learn whether the prophetic words of the Phiarlan fortune-teller from the Carnival of Shadows, "Beneath the keep and its shattered throne," had indeed referred to Glyphstone Keep.

Two days ago, I battled the druids of the Children of Winter after hearing only stories about them—and I watched helplessly as Ket was slaughtered by one of their number. Moments later, the ceiling collapsed and everything turned black.

Yesterday, I awoke in a most foul place where Duran was being consumed by the vile naga Hothyr. I fled from one battle to another and met my new companions as they were engaged in battle with a pair of smaller nagas and their minions. After helping them to win the day, I joined forces with them.

Today, we avenged Duran by killing Hothyr. We also discovered that aberrations like the grells had risen close to the surface world. We were nearly devoured by a purple worm and then were then nearly slain by the Blue Wraith.

Now, we are finally allowed a quiet moment.

Since leaving my homeland and setting upon the path of the druids, I have learned much about the ways of nature. The laws of Eberron are the laws of balance. The warm, sunny side of the tree is but a step away from the cool, shady side. The bat, while active all night, sleeps all day. There is a moment of calm that precedes the chaos of the storm.

Has the storm passed or are we merely in the eye?

Even things that seem bad contain good. The fire that decimates the forest opens up a window to the sun through the canopy of the forest, which allows the saplings at the floor to grow. The decaying carcasses of beasts create fertile soil for plants to thrive in. Intense pain precedes the birth of a child.

In my travels, I have only found one exception: the dark elves in the land of my birth. My father's people did not treat me well as a child. My earliest memories are of older drow children tormenting me. To say my torment was merciless would be redundant. All of the drow I have known have been evil. Beings that take pleasure in learning exactly how much skin can be removed from a victim before he dies, so that they can make sure to prolong his agony as long as possible.

I have often attempted to reconcile the dilemma of my father's people. How can the drow be comprised wholly of evil? Mustn't there be some sliver of good within them, owing to their origins in the distant past? Perhaps the memory of their origin is too far past, perhaps the inner joy of what it means to be elf-kind is hidden so deeply that it cannot be seen from the outside, much like the lustrous crystals that can be found within a geode. Or perhaps, their hearts are as jet-black as their skin.

Bale may be the answer to this dilemma. Only time will tell. Is he the exception that proves the rule? Which rule is he proving? Are all drow as evil as I know them to be or is he illustrating nature in all of its variation? I am not sure that Vvaraak herself, in her age-old wisdom, would have known the answer. For now, I do not trust him and he has given us more reasons to be wary than trusting, but I will give him a chance to prove himself, for that is the nature of a good man.

#114 - The Traitor

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

The Blue Wraith was still wreathed in fire when I regained consciousness. Frustrated, knowing I couldn’t withstand the backlash of striking him again, I retreated. We’d have to end this at range. Arafin appeared next to me, as suddenly as she had during the fight with Hothyr. Then she had pointed me at the other naga through the murky water, but this time instead of direction she had healing so I could approach and end this fight quickly.

It was an idealistic thought. We crowded around the Wraith, then recognized our error and spread out before he could summon another fireball. The wizard shrugged off arrows, turned blades and ignored magic missiles until, unexpectedly, one of the drow’s eldritch blasts passed through him and scorched the stone walls. While I was still marveling about the wizard’s resilience, Aleae and Magnus nearly simultaneously announced that this Wraith was—or had now become—just an illusion.

I turned my back to it and listened. Among the scuffle of feet and labored breath, I heard matching breathes on the other side of the room. We pursued the fleeing wizard but we had to work our way around the pit. When he reappeared again, a good forty feet away across the gap, it was behind a bead of fire. Many of us were blasted by the heat but none of us went down. Arafin was the first to race towards him, but she stopped short and spat acidic venom at him like a spitting cobra—a customary naga attack.


The venom hit the Blue Wraith in the face. I wasn’t sure what happened next—was it a spell going wrong or the wizard’s devilish benefactor abandoning him? At first I thought the wizard's fire shield had returned, but this time he screamed in agony and collapsed, a new, nonprotective fire eating at his flesh with magical voraciousness.

Cypher and Izzeth reached the Wraith first. Realizing that the fire might consumer any valuables, Izzeth threw a blanket over the burning form. When he drew it away, the fire had been extinguished, but it sprang up again! Without waiting for the wizard to finish burning and squirming both warforged and half-drow fumbled for the wizard's possessions. The fire scorched them both, despite their precautions. This wizard was taking too long to die, and I remained suspicious even as bones, visible through bubbling flesh, began to blacken and crumble.

Magnus came running by us and I told him what I already knew—Simel was dead. Without missing a beat the Seren barbarian began to strip Simel’s body of gear, only saying that he had died well. Huh. And people say we Karrns are disrespectful of the dead.

I can’t point fingers, though. What I had to do was no better. I left the Wraith and sawed Simel’s head off with the Fang to prevent the vampire Trazzen from raising him as an enemy. Burning would have been more effective, but I had neither the time nor inclination to convince one of the casters to do the grisly work. What kind of a Karrn was I to adopt these tactics long-favored by our enemies? Magnus clearly approved, and I was grateful that he didn’t want to add Simel’s head to his growing collection of skulls. I ought to have said a few words before, or after, but it felt wrong. I wish I could say it was the first time I’ve used this partisan on a slain ally.

In the meantime the Blue Wraith burned himself out. Aleae warned us that we had little time until the corpse-elemental reappeared from…wherever she had sent it. Why she couldn’t just keep it there I didn’t understand. We readied ourselves, Cypher with a strange rod he used to control its movement, and Izzeth preparing his beam of radiant moonlight. In short work we took it down, even as it seized Magnus and lifted him into the air.

While we were coming to grips with the end of this long, hard, and costly fight, the drow urged us to continue moving.

We collectively rounded on him.

I still don’t know why we didn’t kill him on the spot. Exhaustion, maybe. Or the infectious, genuine alarm in his voice. He claimed to have turned traitor on Katashka, the rakshasa raja who we had heard about, and who Trazzen served—Trazzen, who had I never heard of until two days ago but whose name had become synonymous with the perils since I reached the vicinity of Glyphstone Keep. Given the disturbing powers he exhibited during the battle, it is easy to believe he may derive his magic from this demon lord.

The drow said he had been bound to kill one of our number, and of the seven of us had picked Simel out of spite: Katashka had wanted him to survive. That bastard seemed to think he had done us a favor. We weren’t buying it, but the drow had greater concerns. He had knowledge of Katashka’s machinations here in Glyphstone. Its servants had concocted some sort of blight from a device he called the Rumdhal Cauldron. One "batch" brewed from this vile cauldron had already been sent out somewhere, and others were in the making. He said that the next one would be bound for Sharn, and other for somewhere in Breland near the Aundairian border. He did not elaborate on the nature of this blight, but from his speech it sounded like a plague of some sort. Given that it was the dream of a demon lord, it was not likely to be a mere disease.

We had mere hours before the next batch from the Cauldron was ready to go out, but between the Cauldron and us lay two upper floors of the Glyphstone dungeons, a small army of gnolls and Arafin’s turned, undead mate who would rival Hothyr in strength and magical prowess. We had no choice but to believe this dark elf's information. We already knew that something malevolent was at work here due to interferences of Katashka’s minions, and now we had a timeline to match. As much as we needed to prevent the Cauldron from releasing even one more wave of blight, we desperately needed to rest.

The drow offered to take us to the Blue Wraith’s chambers, a possible place of temporal safety, and mentioned something about his own. So he was a native here. I wondered how long he had been working for Katashka? Was he a recent recruit or a plant? We barely got a name out of him. He said that until he earned his true name back, we could call him “Bale.” Looking at him in the aftermath of the battle, I wondered if my weariness was affecting my memory. I could have sworn he had two black eyes. But now one of them was a vivid red.

Evidently the teleportation by which I had arrived had brought me into the "natural" caverns far Glyphstone Keep. Bale was now leading us up the bank of the stairs into the goblin-carved dungeons of the keep itself. My new companions—save for Izzeth, who had arrived in a similar to manner as mine—had traversed some of these dungeons before.

As went ventured on, Aleae and I shared the second rank behind Bale, intending to watch for betrayal. Magnus had already affixed Simel’s darkvision goggles to his face and passed me his everburning torch, but the drow insisted that we march in darkness, expressing both surprise and disbelief that we had survived this long openly carrying light.

I took Aleae’s elbow, Clarion took Izzeth’s. The warforged complained about the marching order—it was clear that he and the elven sorceress had a history of some kind, and I don’t think he trusts me yet. At least he finds the drow even more untrustworthy. Ours has been an adventure of common enemies, it seems. Cypher had his iron defender Rungo guide him. That made three who were blind and three who could see, plus one homunculus and Bale.

I was so focused on straining my senses for signs of danger that I couldn’t follow our path up the stairs and into the maze of halls and chambers. We tried to walk in silence, but even I was all too aware of the noise we made, echoing off smooth walls and high ceilings.

Eventually, as we neared a wide, many-columned hall, slow dragging sounds issued from the darkness ahead. Aleae whispered that it was an undead guardian—they had seen its like here before. I couldn’t tell more than the direction—how far away was it? Could it see us, or hear us? Accompanied only by a swish of cloth, Bale moved out of my range of perception. Was this the trap we had expected from him? I was tempted to pull out the torch, but decided to rely on those of my companions who could see in darkness.

Lights began to appear as the battle unfolded—first Clarion’s dancing lights, then Izzeth’s moonbeam, and finally Cypher unveiling Rungo, whose eyes shone like lanterns. We faced three human zombies a giant skeletal minotaur wielding a battleaxe with a head as large as Rungo. Its massive size afforded it no protection: with a single shove Clarion heaved it to the ground and it vanished under blows.

It was over quickly, but the noise announced our passage down the long chamber. Whatever limited confidence we had in being unseen and unheard was gone, and we had no idea how much farther Bale would take until we were safe. If that truly was his plan.

#113 - The Death of Simel

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

The drow remained fixated on Simel even as Izzeth, in his giant constrictor form, coiled around him and his dizzying duplicates. With a spare shield from Hothyr’s chamber to compensate for my damaged breastplate, I contended with the suit of animated armor that had a vortex of swirling wind instead of legs, but the drow’s behavior kept drawing my attention away from its attacks. The dark elf was a spellcaster as well as a warrior, and his tactic was to use both to take instant control and press the advantage of sudden aggression. Engaging him immediately was the only way to break his momentum, but we were more than evenly matched and Simel was already incapacitated.

It was clear the drow considered it more expedient to avoid obstacles instead of defeating them. He vanished from Izzeth’s coils with a quick spell and appeared beside me. He acknowledged my presence only to dismiss me, then spoke aloud "I regret the need, but this must happen." It was unclear if he spoke to me or to Simel, who could surely not hear. Then with his rapier the drow ran Simel through.

When he withdrew the blade, a shadowy image of it remained suspended in Simel’s body, necrotic shadows swirling around it like smoke. A wall of writhing darkness surrounded them both, encapsulating them like a cocoon. It had the consistency of wet earth, and though my weapon could pierce it, I couldn’t make a usable hole.

Then Cypher came charging from the rear, skirted the barrier and leapt at the air elemental with Magnus’s borrowed mace. His brash courage wasn’t enough to balance his lack of experience with such a weapon. The creature retaliated by whipping the spiked chain around with momentum fueled by its own wind. I slammed back into the barrier and regained consciousness moments later in time to see Cypher stow his wand of healing with uncharacteristic violence.

The chaos in the Blue Wraith’s chamber had remained separate from us until magic dragged the animated armor away from Cypher and me and slammed it into the invisible barrier on the far side of the pit. Izzeth and Cypher heeded Aleae’s unsubtle summons and ran to rally with the others to engage the barbed devil, the Blue Wraith, and any of his undead that still lived.

I remained in place, trying to catch my breath, standing but only barely conscious. I was the only one present when the shadow-barrier around Simel and the drow fell away. The dark elf emerged and flung magic toward me, declaring something as he did. I caught only the word "Katashka," for by now I had heard this name a few times already, but could make nothing of it. I attempted to avoid the crackling black energies that the drow flung, but I was not the target—the elemental creature was. I heard it clang against the pinned armor and I caught a glimpse of wispy, ephermal tendrils grasping and pulling the elemental back.

At the drow’s feet lay Simel in his true, changeling form. The necrotic gut wound already looked weeks old. He was unmistakably dead; I have seen it too many times to mistake it. Even after two years of almost-peace, images flooded back to me at the sight of another sprawled corpse in Karrnathi armor, another fallen comrade. Simel’s changeling face made it even easier for the litany of faces to appear and disappear across it, some more familiar and more painful than others.

This time the clash of arms failed to recall me to the present. I felt cold and very alone, the only Karrn in the middle of a battlefield a thousand miles from home. The constant, subtle comfort that a fellow Karrn had vouched for this ragtag group of Aundarians, Brelish, and Outlanders only made itself evident in its absence. The cacophony sounded distant, like someone else’s fight and that I had just wandered into.

The confusion lasted only a moment, but it was enough to fill me with disgust. The loss of Simel shouldn’t affect my opinion of my allies, unlikely though they may be. Their loyalty to each other and even to me speaks for itself, and I shouldn’t need to be standing next to a Karrn to know my obligations to them.

This drow had a lot to answer for—then I would rejoin the main conflict. I demanded the know his purpose here, because he was clearly no ally of the wizard we were battling. He didn’t answer and ran past me with magic-enhanced speed, toward my companions. I swung my weapon, but missed—he was gone.

With his speed and my injuries I would never catch him. Turning around, I saw the corner of the pit clogged with re-corpses of the ghouls and skeletons and every combatant except the enemy wizard. I couldn’t even see the drow among the press, but I wasn’t observing the effects of a surprise attack, either. The wizard they called the Blue Wraith watched the spectacle from the far side of the invisible barrier, arrogance in his posture. He didn’t know I had a way to reach him.

I tossed the useless shield aside and ran toward the pit, taking the stairs down two or three at a time. I readied myself to call on the Fang’s teleportation magic and sent the Host a swift prayer for enough control to make it across. Cold in my grip, I could feel the partisan's power gathering—and as if in response to my newfound strength of will, the Fang brought me in the blink of an eye right to the wizard's unguarded flank. I scored three solid hits on the wizard before he could ready a spell, but knew I couldn’t hold out for another chance. He fled in dismay and, as the others rounded the corner with Magnus at the head, centered a fireball on us.

I awoke to the too-familiar scent of char with some time lost—the barbed devil was now gone (grasped and forcibly discarded by Aleae's telekinetic magic, I would later learn) but something else had emerged from the pit: a mass of stone and charnel corpses that held Izzeth and Aleae clutched in its rocky fists. Both escaped with magic and Clarion engaged it. Whatever he did caused the corpse creature to flee and then, at a flourish of Aleae’s uncanny wand, it vanished into thin air.

When I reached Magnus and Cypher cornering the Blue Wraith, he was wreathed in magical fire. It didn’t appear to harm him, and didn’t protect him from my attack, but on impact the flames raced down the Fang’s white shaft and for the third time in as many minutes, I was unconscious.

#112 - A Worm, a Wraith, and the Promise of Death

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

The sound of a hard chitinous plate hitting stone is very distinctive, the sound of eight of them doing it in succession even more so. After the suit of armor reanimated itself and called for help, two giant scorpions emerged from further down the tunnel. Perhaps the wounds of my past were not as healed as I thought, for the sight of these beasts shook me to my core. In a glance, I was transported forty years into the past. In the Obsidian City, the place of my birth, these beasts would have been revered—if not worshiped as the Vulkoori do. Still, they represent strength and power. To me, they represent a lifetime of abuse. As a half-breed in a city where worth is measured in bloodlines, I wasn't even a second-class citizen. I was tormented relentlessly, only finding respite when I was sent out of the city into the jungles to perform menial chores. I left that place and never thought I'd see these foul things again. How naive.

I know from those times that giant scorpions are incredibly fast, capable of striking with both pincers and their tail in the blink of an eye. The claws are dangerous, capable of trapping a person easily, but the stinger in the tail is the true menace. Within is a wicked poison. In the Obsidian City, the Sulatar would use the poison as an ink to scribe arcane patterns onto their bodies, much the way Magnus has adorned himself with castoff dragon scales. Some of the drow who were most heavily inked in this way were said to have developed immunity against the venom. We were not likely to be so lucky today.

In addition to their speed, scorpions have extremely poor eyesight, but they make up for it by sensing vibrations with their feet, allowing them to "see" quite some distance. It makes it difficult to sneak up on them or catch them by surprise.

The shock of seeing them was so great that I was flustered and could only rely on the spells that I had used thousands of times in the past. I muttered the words and called forth a spark of fire, which grew into a small sphere, which I then hurled at the closest of the scorpions. The next thing I knew, a giant ball of fire had engulfed the two scorpions and burnt the life out of them. It took me a few moments to realize that it was Aleae who had cast fireball and not my flame, that had dispatched them. This reminded me that I had found powerful friends with the potential to overshadow my past.

At that point, an impossibly large worm issued from the left-hand passage—the one that led to Arafin's former lair. The worm was wider than Magnus was tall, at least eight feet in diameter and I could only guess how long it was since much of it was still emitting from the dark tunnel. Its skin had a dusky purple hue to it. On one end was a mouth of extremely sharp teeth, arranged in neat concentric rows. At the other end, I knew we would find a stinger, also capable of injecting a vile poison likely far more dangerous than even scorpion venom.

With my composure regained, I reached up to the unseen moons above and called down their light upon the animate suit of armor. A cool dim light shone down from above, bathing the armor and searing it. At this point, Clarion went forward and grappled with the armor directly. It is still a strange sight to see warforged at work, for their nature is unclear. Still, Clarion's mass was the greater and her purposefully held the animate armor within the burning moonlight even as he struck it with his fists.

Seeing that situation in hand, I then tapped back into the magic of the Dragon Between—Eberron herself—and metamorphosed myself into a giant boa constrictor. While I wouldn't be as large as the purple worm, I would be close, and perhaps I could present myself as a target, sparing my new companions some damage. I also knew that if I could slink my coils around the worm, I would be able to squeeze it tight and make it easier for my companions to strike.

Magnus and Simel were closest to the worm and were able to react first to its emergence. Magnus swung his might bone mace into the worm with a wet, slapping sound, but did not seem to draw its attention. Simel, on the other hand, had. He attempted to pierce its hide with his rapier, but it was a tiny weapon against such a colossal beast. As he raised the weapon to plunge it through its hide, the tip caught the floor and it spilled out of his hand. Clattering to the ground with a resounding ring, the weapon came to rest nearly ten feet from him, directly under the bulk of the worm's body. Wynn reacted with lightning reflexes and charged to within striking distance where she quickly landed three quick strikes with her partisan. Against such a sizeable creature, the reach of her weapon was obviously useful.

Aleae, who had lingered at the back of the group, now found herself quite close to the action. She produced a gaudy wand adorned with gems and filigree work from her pocket, leveled it at the worm, and released unknown magical energies. When one is in combat things happen very quickly. The body responds to this by making time seem to slow down, in this way the balance of nature is maintained. The wand being leveled, the stream of energy pouring forth, and the time before the effect manifested, seemed to last an eternity. When the eternity was over, a blue shimmer formed from the top of the cavern all the way to the floor, completely engulfing the worm. Another eternity elapsed before I realized that the blue shield did not seem to have any effect on the worm.

Aleae is quite confusing. She is capable of wreaking massive devastation on our smallest foes, but when something larger is about, she seems ineffective. I don't know what her plan is, but I think I will speak to her at our next opportunity to make some sense of it all. In the mean time, I'll have to show her how to have an effect on a beast that nearly a hundred feet long.

I slithered into the worm's space, sometimes going over its body, sometimes below. I coiled around it in many places and then when I knew it would be unable to wriggle itself free, I began to squeeze. I could feel its soft insides being compressed. It tried to wriggle, but I was stronger. It was firmly within my grasp. Now it was our turn to strike.

Magnus saw his opportunity and flew into some sort of rage, whirling his bone club as if it weighed no more than a drumstick. He landed several hard blows while I held the creature immobile—each hit from the blade-edge of the mace dislodged purple flesh and jellied gore. Simel loosed four arrows in the nictitation of a membrane, all finding their target. Wynn began to open some deep gashes in the beast with her mighty polearm. Lastly, Aleae, clearly inspired by my action, spoke her magical words and launched a thunderous attack on the worm, which caused it to squeal in pain.

Things were going very well, until the worm's tail pierced clean through my snake body. The pain was astounding but brief. Had it not been for my training, I certainly would not have been able to maintain my concentration on the moonbeam that was still seeping the unlife out of the suit of armor.
The venom injected into my assumed form defeated it, and I found myself forced back into my natural body and fell to the floor. The worm then reared itself to nearly its full height and slammed down on Magnus, who seem for a moment to be swallowed whole. When the worm pulled back to consume its prize, we saw Magnus rising up again on the far side. He must have rolled free just before the maw could close around him. Instead, it got a mouthful of broken rock.

Arafin called forth some magical flame to scorch the worm, while I transformed back into the snake. I tried to get around the worm again, but it was more savvy to my intention and deftly repositioned itself just before I could cinch my hold down. Magnus, Simel and Wynn continued to pepper the worm with their blows, causing considerable damage. Clearly the beast was hurt, but in its mindless pursuit of a meal, it fought fearlessly on.

Aleae began to speak and before she was finished, I knew that she was calling forth another fireball. Her ways are starting to become familiar. The fireball exploded around the worm high in the tunnel, plunging nearly one third of it into flame and eliciting another monstrous shriek. Hopefully all those close enough to hear would be encouraged to run the opposite direction, rather than see what the commotion was. We were not subtle in our advance of these tunnels.

The worm struck out at Aleae with its tail, but Aleae was able to dodge out of the way. The other end of the worm reared and launched itself at Wynn, who was able to flatten herself to the ground and roll to safety just before the teeth could envelop her. The worm and I continued our wrestling match, but clearly I was in a different weight class, being nearly half its size.

For all of our efforts, the worm was clearly slowing down. It was oozing from many wounds, some arrow holes, some slashes from Wynn's partisan. It was burnt, cracked, crushed, squeezed, and if it had legs, it surely would have walked with a limp. Like most things in life, its end wasn't remarkable.
Magnus smashed it in several places with his mace as Simel sunk another arrow into it just behind its head. Wynn swung her partisan and on the second strike, the thing fell to the ground.

With only the suit of armor left, I slithered over and coiled myself around it, then squeezed my body tight, taking over for Clarion. I could feel the metal bending beneath my grasp like a cheap metal gauntlet under the weight of a boulder. Simel ran over and as he did, his bow transformed. The bowstring unhooked and the two ends twisted and wrapped around to become a staff, which he brought down upon the suit's helmet, denting it mightily. The armor lost its animating power and it collapses to the ground, inert.

How most people
(including Magnus)
picture Magnus's end.

With the immediate threat dispatched, we knew that we had to move on quickly. The noise of the fight would certainly attract other denizens of this place to us. Arafin insisted we continue in the same direction, toward the "upper halls" of Glyphstone Keep. She wanted nothing to do with her former lair. If a purple worm had taken up residence, it could not be a pleasant place.

We continued down the tunnel and after some time came to a fifty-foot stretch of passageway that was covered in a black tar like substance with a noxious aroma. After some debate, we decided that it was likely there to prevent the purple worms (and other sundry beasties) from venturing past it. While we discussed how best to cross it, Magnus simply strode through it. This was the Seren way, evidently, direct and without discourse. We saw that while some of the tar now clinged to his boots and lower legs, he simply burned it with fire. He must surely be mad. There were ugly blisters marking his skin and he had no concern at all for it.

Aleae was carried across the tar by Clarion. The rest of us attempted to get as little tar as possible on us as we crossed. Just after the tarry area, we began to notice torchlight streaming from ahead of us. We were clearly coming to more inhabited areas of the tunnels.

As we rounded a corner, we came to fairly large chamber. In the middle was some sort of pit, the bottom of which could not be seen from our vantage point. The rest of the room was arranged in a U-shape around the pit, with a set of stairs down on one side and a set of stairs up on the opposite side. Directly across from us was an exit tunnel with a set of stairs leading up, but that wasn't the first thing that we noticed about the room.

It wasn't empty.

At the bottom of the U were a throng of skeletons and ghouls, crouched and waiting. While the skeletons stood utterly still, the gray-skinned ghouls loped like starving dogs awaiting for their masters' permission to attack. Just up from them near the stairs on the far side was a tall creature with a greenish hide and a diabolical appearance. It had a long spiked tail, horns, and innumerable spines jutting from its pebbled skin. Beyond the devil was what appeared to be a small air elemental clad in humanoid armor and wielding a spiked chain. Behind it was a man enshrouded in vesture of the finest quality. At this belt was a well-wrought dagger.

The others seemed to recognize this stranger and referred to him as the "Blue Wraith." He called out to Magnus and Magnus responded in kind. The conversation was not nuanced, he was going to bring a few of us up to "speak with" Trazzen, but the rest of us would be put to death. Magnus insisted that it was the Wraith who would not survive this encounter.

It was a tense moment. We were severely out numbered and by the looks of things, this Wraith was likely to be a wizard of some power. I would have preferred to have been fully rested, because the spells that I had prepared were more suited to battling Hothyr. At least we had Cypher and his metallic companion to guard our rear and make sure that nothing would come from behind us.

Magnus, growing tired of speaking, indicated that Simel should attack. Simel conceded and loosed an arrow at the Blue Wraith, but before it could find its target, it shattered in mid air just over the far side of the pit. An invisible barrier! Magnus tried another angle with his own bow, and Simel also tried to find the target, but all of the arrows merely burst as though they had been flung at a stone wall.

Wynn, seeing the futility of attacking the Blue Wraith directly, flung one of the two remaining beads from Hothyr's bracelet at the undead horde. The bead landed in the center of their number and burst into an enormous fireball. One of the skeletons was blasted into bone fragments, but the others all survived, although they did not look like they would do so for long.

Clarion rushed forward and prayed to his god for protection as the horde surged around him, attempting to scrape, claw, and bite his not-quite-natural body. Clarion's protection held and he was unscathed. A few of the ghouls ignored Clarion, instead homing for the appetizing look of Magnus's flesh. Apparently barbequed barbarian was on the menu, as one of their number managed to sink his teeth into Magnus's arm. The barbarian merely shook the ghoul off, dislodging one of its teeth in the process.

The Blue Wraith spoke the words of a spell and the air coagulated into plasma as lightning burst from his hands, first into one of the ghouls, instantly frying it, then forking out into Clarion and finally into Magnus. Clarion began to smoke, cooked by the spell's power, but didn't look seriously damaged. Magnus on the other hand looked to be far worse off.

Aleae recited an arcane incantation and then burst into the room. She motioned in the direction of the Blue Wraith, but nothing seemed to happen. I rushed to Magnus's aid and squeezed the remaining life (if you can call it that) out of the ghoul that had attacked him. Simel felled another ghoul and a skeleton with his bow and Wynn and Clarion took out the remaining two skeletons.

Magnus leaped across the pit diagonally, hoping to avoid hitting the invisible wall, to land at the bottom of the U, directly between the undead horde and the rest of our foes. As he landed he leveled his bow at the Blue Wraith and let loose an arrow, which did not find its target. This wizard is brave beyond all measure, but would benefit from some forethought. Magnus was immediately beset by the spiny devil-thing, which clawed him twice in quick succession and then whipped his tail about to strike Magnus once more.

The Blue Wraith summoned his lightning spell once more, this time arcing it from Magnus into Clarion, Wynn, and finally Aleae. Both Magnus and Clarion immediately fell unconscious, smoke rising frm their bodies. Arafin with her tail slapped Aleae on the back and she seemed to regain much of her vitality. Arafin then said something in the language of the dragons that I could not comprehend, but from its tongue sounded like a command. Aleae then used her magic to lift and move Magnus's body out of the midst of our foes and lay it beside Arafin.

Meanwhile a new commotion began from behind us where we had entered the chamber. As a snake, my vision is not particularly special, but my sense of smell is particularly keen, being enhanced by the sensitivity of my tongue. This new participant in our fight was a full-blooded drow, which I had not seen face to face in many years. I could tell by the smell and taste of it. Perhaps seeing the giant scorpions so recently prepared me for this second dose of nostalgia that I did not want, but this time I was able to keep my senses about me.

The drow was heavily concealed in a cloak, so much so that only a hint of red eyes and a shock of white hair were visible. Nonetheless, there was no doubt as to his heritage. Because he was so covered, I could not tell if he was Sulatar or one of the Vulkoori tribes. In one hand he held a rapier, quite nimbly. In the other he grasped a crystal like a focus for spellcasting. This one was going to be dangerous.

The drow cast a spell directly at Simel, who was pummeled with streams of dark energy that I did not recognize. They seemed to cause him considerable harm, for he was wincing mightily after being struck. I rushed to aid Simel and attempted to coil my body around the drow, but he was quite spry and easily dodged my coils. The armored air elemental joined the fray, attacking Simel from the other side and the drow brought forth the same magic that Hothyr had used, conjuring several identical copies of himself. Such illusions do not fool my snake senses, so I knew precisely where the real drow he was at all times. After Simel managed to puncture his leg, the drow disappeared with another quick spell, making a short hop to the edge of the pit. He once again leveled his dark energies towards Simel after speaking to the changeling. "Please understand, this is not personal," he spoke in the Common tongue. Simel absorbed the energies and collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Memories of Xen'drik

My huge size allowed me to be positioned perfectly to ensnare the drow as he materialized and I was able to completely entwine his body with my own. Then I began to crush him, squeezing the breath from his thin frame. If I can rid Eberron of this one drow, it will have been but a drop in the bucket, but a start nevertheless!

While I was busying myself with this foe from my homeland, Aleae had been busy tossing our enemies into the pit. The devil she flung down with the power of her magic, and I can only assume that she dispatched the final ghoul, since it never climbed back out. While I was busy with the drow, Arafin had revived Magnus—who looked no better, his skin cracked and burned by lightning, but his enthusiasm for the battle had, creepily, not been disturbed by his brush with death. As he advanced to get to the wizard, the spiny devil climbed out from the pit and got in his way.

Once again, I have a bad feeling about this fight. Two of our number are unconscious on the ground and a third is mere moments away from joining them. Our enemies still seem quite fresh, as our efforts have barely scratched them. With a little luck, my companions will make short work of this drow while I have him entangled within my clutches, then we will be able to turn towards the elemental and the wizard known as the Blue Wraith.

We will survive, because we must. The rest of my order must be told about the aberrations here in Glyphstone.

#111 - Weapons, Shields, and Scrying Eyes

From the Analects of Simel, veteran of Karrnath 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

This was no place to rest.I touched the bow we had retrieved from the bottom of the pool and a power seemed almost to call out from it. Magnus looked through the other objects the creature had left behind. Perhaps it was an odd moment to expound on the many advantages of using a bow, but Magnus seemed more receptive than previously to its many charms and it was such a beautiful weapon with its darkwood and deep red dragonshards.

Izzeth himself had claimed—rather, reclaimed—a gleaming sickle with a purplish hue to its blade. It was clearly a weapon intended for druids and he explained in brief that it was one of a set of twelve. Each is named for one of Eberron's moons. The one he carried was the Crescent of Therendor, the Healer's Moon. The material, byeshk, was a rare metal mined in the mountains of the same name and, according to Izzeth, was the perfect blade to use against aberrations. Magnus said he and Cypher had seen a similar weapon before—carried by a former companion—but now it was in the hands of Governor Trazzen, the vampire at the end of this deadly maze.

Despite Izzeth's magics allowing us to navigate the putrid water in this room, our various injuries burned with the unclean contact.  We did not, however, take the moment to rest or fully take stock of what we had found.

Aleae did try to stuff all of the gems we discovered into an improbably small pouch and we moved the other items to the ledge out of reach of the water should it come crashing back down unexpectedly. The druid's control of the water was impressive and he seemed able to keep it at bay as if a giant plow had passed through untilled soil.

Despite the concentration required for this impressive feat, Izzeth demanded we quickly explore below the membrane at the bottom of the pool—the one from which the brain-and-beak tentacled monster had emerged during the battle. He believed there might be a seal below that was weakening and thus allowing aberrations to come through into our world.

During Izzeth's impassioned plea, Arafin quietly watched our deliberations and Clarion seemed lost in one of his deep magical musical meditations. Agreeing, we watched as Izzeth cut the membranous material—which had reformed itself—with his sickle. Then Magnus lowered Izzeth through the membrane by a rope and I followed. Wynn, in turn, lowered me into a darkness relieved only by my magical eyewear.

The well below the membrane was empty of water and as we slowly descended, the well opened out into a larger cave filled with water. The water, though dark, did not appear as corrupted as the water above. Bubbles began to disturb the calm surface below and I signaled to Wynn to stop. Magnus continued to lower Izzeth and I watched the water with an arrow knocked.

A large brain-like shape erupted, dripping, from the waters below us. Apparently a cousin to the beast who emerged earlier and who ruined so many of the arrows I had peppered it with.

Izzeth yelled out that it was another grell and Magnus and Wynn rapidly pulled us up. While I was unable to wield my bow effectively as I twisted dangling from the rope, I quickly passed through the membrane and positioned myself at the lip of the well followed by Izzeth.

The grell rapidly ascended and seemed undeterred by the arrows Magnus and I sank into its spongy but prodigious flesh. Its barbed tentacles began to stab at us repeatedly and one of them pierced my leggings. Apparently having enjoyed the taste of my blood, it rose to eye level and bit me with its beak. Wynn took advantage of its focus on me and slashed and stabbed it repeatedly as Magnus hammered at it.  Fluids, not recognizable as blood, flowed from its wounds. Enraged by the pain of its bite, I drew my rapier and buried it to the hilt in the creature's beaked maw.  Awareness faded from its alien eyes. The creature descended from whence it came carrying with it more of my arrows.

We agreed that we had had enough of a taste of grells and, in an attempt to flood the cavern below, Magnus excised as much of the membrane as he could.  We all retreated to the pathway surrounding the empty pool and Izzeth allowed his concentration to lapse. The waters rushed downward with a roar. The foul liquid obviously began to drain down the well as the waterline subsided, but then stopped at a depth of 5 feet. The membrane must have healed as we had seen it do previously. One of the shields placed against the chamber wall popped aside and more dark liquid poured out through a conduit that had been hidden by the shield. The chamber seemed intent on erasing our activities and the pool slowly filled again.

With our attention drawn to the shields we decided to try to hinder whatever power the chamber held in another way. Izzeth, driven by his hatred for aberrations that seemed the defining trait of his druid's order, seemed especially eager to unmake the devices of the naga we'd slain. According to Arain, all of these nagas would return to life in due time. Why not spoil its lair?

Wynn began to pry the shields from the walls and Clarion handed them to his unseen servant—an invisible and insubstantial entity—to carry. At first Wynn met with success, but then as she gripped a plain unadorned shield, its form flowed to form appendages that bound and pummeled her. Magnus leapt at the shield-thing with his mace and found his mace stuck fast to it. This was undoubtedly a mimic! I joined the fray piercing it with two arrows, but it seemed not to notice. Magnus struggled to pull his mace away and the shield opened a toothy mouth and bit down on Wynn's side.

Not all mimics choose to resemble chests.
Only the meanest ones.

I found myself momentarily blinded as Arafin joined in with a bright bolt of light that irradiated the creature even as Magnus and Wynn struggled to escape it. A chill blast swept by me aimed at the thing, sent by Aleae. Magnus finally tore free and with him no longer blocking my view of it, I sank two arrows into it, finally seeing it show some sign of pain. Again, Arafin blasted it with a white light and it fell from the wall dead, if it was ever alive.

Arafin seemed to have enough of our games and slithered out the passage the way we had come.  She didn't go far, but waited for us with a hint of impatience marring her regal calm.

We followed her back the way we came, through the cage room where up and down were interchangeable.

I couldn't help but notice that Cypher had shown an uncharacteristic disinterest in everything we had found. If we have time, I must try to talk to it. I find these construct beings fascinating. It's almost like they have moods.

Our wounds continued to burn but, other than a strong desire to cleanse ourselves, we noticed no ill effects. It appeared that Clarions' earlier blessing might have minimized the foul fluid's ill effects on us.

Despite Arafin's restlessness and Cypher's apparent frustration at our progress, we took the moment to rest and regather for an hour. I spent the time studying the darkwood bow and came to feel a better understood its magics; Izzeth recognized its make and warned me that using it might release a captive fire elemental held by the bow. Given Magnus's newfound fondness for bows and his ability to handle fire better than I, I offered him the weapon. Two archers wielding magical bows would certainly be more useful than me holding a bow in either hand.

Arafin suddenly drew in a breath and turned her head to focus on a point in space across the room.  The hairs on the nape of my neck stood up and I felt the presence of something watching us.  "Something is here!" I whispered to the others.

Arafin uncoiled and approached the opposite end of the room, muttered a word and an invisible sphere was outlined with faerie fire. She spit a few words at it in Draconic, that seemed a challenge. Possibly a litany of curses.

Magnus followed suit, yelling "We are coming for you and you will die!" He is always very to the point.

From Clarion came "Your rule of this place will come to an end."

I whispered to myself, "Who are they talking to?"

Arafin had the last word and with a surge of magic, she dispelled the unseen sphere. The sense that we were being watched ended, but it was clear we were expected.

Having finished a brief rest, we followed Arafin back the way we had come, revisiting various grisly reminders of our battles. Finally, Arafin took us through the tunnels in which a fork in the tunnel presented two passages. One led to the naga's one-time lair, where she and her mate had once lived before the coming of our enemies. Arafin was deeply disquieted even looking in that direction. She said that her former lair was now a place corrupted and she did not wish to go there again. The other passage led on ostensibly to the upper dungeons of Glyphstone Keep—where we had once been.

However, in that direction we saw scattered pieces of heavy armor simply lying discarded upon the ground.  Experience informed what our more veteran companions saw: We had previously encountered unfriendly animated suits of armor controlled by the Blue Wraith—the criminal I had come here to take down.

The bounty on his head was considerable. Was it worth stumbling into deeper threats and vague prophecies? I do not know. I had at least found competent allies that I can now say I well and fully trust with my life. In a very short time I have fought many battles with them already. I feel as though we have shared an extended campaign during the war. It was a warrior's camaraderie. Perhaps in time I will feel comfortable enough to explain the less savory parts of my life. And clearly they have sins of their own that have led them on these present dangers. I have begun to consider what I will next. When I return to Wroat with the Blue Wraith, or with his head, what then? I am seriously contemplating staying with this group.

In any case, Aleae concentrated and magically carried a piece of the armor—a gauntlet—towards us, confirming her fears as to what it was, and then she sent it drifting away down the leftmost tunnel. Separating pieces of the armor seemed prudent.

Just then, beyond the armor in the right-hand passage I heaard a disquieting chittering noise. Before we could act, the armor pieces scraped and snapped together, less the one hand that Aleae had removed from it.

The guardian suit of armor stood and called out "Intruders!" Very loudly.

The chittering grew louder as two giant scorpions scuttled out of the blackness, speeding towards us past the animated armor. Showing unusual coordination we seemed to focus our attacks on one of the scorpions badly injuring it. Aleae immediately released a fireball upon the scorpions and animate armor. The injured scorpion was burnt to an eight-legged cinder, while the other badly was merely badly scorched. The armor seemed resistant to the spell.

From the left tunnel a faint rustling become a roar and a giant purple worm rushed at us.  It could easily swallow one of us whole.