#134 - Advancing Above and Below

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 26th, 999 YK

We slew the remainder of the demons and enemy casters in the increasingly cramped rail car. There was no time to linger once the area was clear. We’d saved those we could, but at least one civilian had died during the conflict.

Past the bulk of Magnus’s great white wolf, I saw a warforged standing outside the door to the next train. The others dispersed—Cypher and Clarion and Izzeth joining me and Bale, Aleae, and Magnus clambering back to the roof. He left his wolf, glaring around with blood caked on its mouth, resenting whatever delay kept it from the fight.

From what I could see through the small window on the lightning rail’s heavy outside door, the warforged bore no insignia. It and its companion carried weapons, nothing else. After Cypher unlocked it, I cracked the door a few inches and asked who they were.

“Concerned passengers,” one replied.

I had trouble believing that. Two experienced Karrn veterans leaping in to finish off a troll, I understood. Two armed and unmarked warforged feeling concern for a random assortment of travelers? By now I could imagine a warforged like Clarion feeling and demonstrating concern, even Cypher when it came to his Brelish loyalties, but they showed that concern visibly in the styled gear they carried, and through speech and action. These two had none of that.

One looked upward and wordlessly started climbing the precarious ladder toward the roof, where the others were. I braced the outer door and called for them to stand down. Neither did. Instead, the one facing me drew a greatsword from where it hung on its back.

Sounds of combat began above. I had full confidence that Aleae alone could throw it off the rail if it caused trouble, let alone with the assistance of Magnus and Bale. The warforged on the ground level turned abruptly away, and in an easy motion yanked free one of the pins keeping the rail cars coupled. That it came free meant the chains were already removed—their work?

I threw open the door and between myself and the two truly concerned warforged, and we took the unmarked one down before it could pull the remaining pin. Above, the rooflings leapt across—the second warforged predictably and unceremoniously flung beneath the rail by unseen magic.

The Karrns looked to me for orders again. I worried that the dangers here were beyond those any normal soldier could face, even those whose loyalties I knew I could trust. But when I suggested they guard the surviving passengers, they told me they wouldn’t be able to assist if left behind. Ultimately it was their choice. I waved them over and we pulled the final pin.

Ahead in the next car, something had caused the others pause. Not knowing what was going on, I quietly approached Izzeth, who whispered to me that more foes were holding hostages out the windows—ready to drop them if we did not surrender.

A moment later, as if from some unheard signal, Clarion called a charge and burst through one of the ajar doors flanking the hall.

Advancing after him, I saw one lean, crossbow-armed human and another unmarked warforged. The enemy rogue shouted orders to yet-unseen others to drop the hostages. I also heard the distant, muffled song of harpies—too quiet to affect those of us inside the car, but hopefully the rooflings were becoming inured by now.

I glimpsed the warforged pause, staring upward for a moment, empty hand extended out the window, before turning after Clarion. Remembering Aleae flinging bodies from the train, I could guess she was hoisting the hostages upward to safety with her spell of telekinesis.

The rogue produced a crossbow and struck Izzeth. It appeared to do more harm than a simple bolt merited, given his reaction. I suspected some trick or poison. Here I didn’t spot any demons or casters, but we were being endlessly slowed on our progress to reach the Mire, and Sharn drew ever nearer as the lightning rail ascended a mountainside.

#133 - Battle on the Rail

Aboard the lightning rail...

With Magnus having vanished over the side of the lightning rail—flung overboard by a harpy—the others regrouped on board the next cart. It was a passenger car of some kind, with private rooms instead of an open room for steerage.

Clarion and the winter wolf Warlaz leapt to its roof, the latter snarling and demanding to be led to "the carnage." No full explanation was ever given, but their understanding was that this horse-sized wolf had, in life, been a companion to the frost giant Storgrimm—who now inhabited Magnus's bone mace—who in turn had been a part of the original Winter Coalition. Now Warlaz was a spirit himself able to manifest only temporarily in a flesh-and-ice form.

While Clarion went below, the Warlaz lingered on the adjoining roof, awaiting battle.

With Cypher's direction, the PCs managed to disconnect the chains and pins that bound the passenger cart they were on with the four behind it (two steerage carts and two cargo carts), leaving only six carts in the caravan of this lightning rail. Slowly the four cars drifted away, with a few puzzled passengers looking on.

Inside the passenger car, in the hallway that ran between staterooms, a Wall of Stone had been conjured, presumably by the agents of Katashka. A human passenger, and a priest of Boldrei, had been sent to the PCs to warn them. He pleaded with them to stop, to go no further, or the terrorists would kill their passenger hostages. Meanwhile, the two Karrn passengers, veterans in their own right, had joined the PCs and wished to help.

Clarion, himself a servant of Dol Arrah, explained to the priest that their mission could not, should not, be averted. If they stopped, far more people would be killed. His words and conviction was enough to convince the human priest that the risk of further death was one they would all have to take. The priest decided to help, and said he could attempt to dispel the Wall of Stone.


Meanwhile, Wynn and Cypher sought other means to get past the wall—on the exterior of the car, through the windows. They only got partway through this plan when the Wall of Stone vanished.

The PCs faced new foes, and their captives. Already they could see several of the rail's Deneith guards had been killed. The PCs looked upon the scene and, refusing to lay down their weapons as demanded, the attacked swiftly.

A deadly battle was joined.

The enemies numbered several humans with no obvious affiliation. Perhaps they were mere mercenaries. Human spellcasters—a wizard, and two clerics—and one heavily-armored swordsman were the first ones, but there were a couple of tall fiends with black leathery skin and upward-curving horns at the back of their heads. They bore spears, long sharp claws, and hideous faces.

By this time, the Elidac-sent griffon had swooped down and scooped up Magnus where he'd fallen and caught up to the still-speeding lightning rail. The winged beast dropped him off on the platform that jutted out from the now-rearmost car. He climbed ot the roof, then raced across it to enter the car at the opposite end, along with Warlaz, by means of a hatch.

Hold Person spells were used in abundance, and it was one such spell cast by Izzeth that saved one of the passengers—a noble, by the look of him—from being outright decapitated by the enemy swordsman. And though one of the black-skinned fiends ran its spear through another—a noblewoman—Izzeth also pulled her back from the brink of death with a well-timed Healing Word.

Wynn was halfway from one window to another outside the car when she used the teleportation magic of her weapon, the Fang of Risia, to appear inside one of the staterooms. Therein, a family had been held hostage by one of the demons—but Clarion had intervened and drawn its ire. Together the Karrn and Aundairian saved these passengers.

Cypher, Aleae, Clarion, Wynn, and Bale fought hard, but there were some casualties. The enemy wizard cast a Cold of Cone which, while harming only one PC, completely froze and slew the human priest of Boldrei. Likewise, a demons struck down one of the Karrns. Yet Wynn bore down one of them. After unleashing a Fireball, the enemy wizard used Misty Step to move quickly across the battlefield, attempting to escape the fray. Bale pursued him.

By the time Magnus and Warlaz appeared at the far end of the battle, another stateroom door had opened and out issued horrific demons whose malformed bodies were mostly gaping, fang-filled mouths. It was apparent a number of passengers had been held hostage within that room and now stood lined up in fear. Magnus even witnessed one passenger falling to the floor, his throat slit. Someone or something within had begun to slay them.

The battle was not yet ended.

 

#132 - Riding the Rail

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 / Zarantyr 26th, 999 YK

Transcribed into the Common tongue:


Much later than the events described below, most of the others rested while I quietly completed the ritual that would give my familiar his favorite form. Durag coalesced and was soon recognizable as a subterranean bat. It was with some regret that I summoned him. I knew a tantrum that was coming and my fiendish familiar didn’t disappoint.

This is no lightning rail! You promised I would see the rail! he cried through our telepathic link. Durag’s thoughts raged and wheeled simultaneously.

"Patience, brother. Would you have had our mission fail? There was no time to properly summon you. Would you have had me bring you back wingless and earless?" I attempted reasonably.

You promised. While I couldn’t read his expressions in his bat form, his thoughts had turned regretful. I am imagining the speed, the air. The currents of fear. Innocents trampling each other to escape. You blasting the Great Katashka’s acolytes through windows, their broken bodies bursting like ripe fruit with the terrible impact of the land. Durag ended excitedly.

"I don’t believe we were going fast enough for that," I replied.

So you did throw them from the train! Durag asked.

"Would you have me tell my story?"

Yes, yes, yes. But who did you kill? he pressed.

"I will start from the beginning. You remember the mages?” I began. “While you were indisposed, they completed their portal and were convinced, with Cypher as their focus, that we could step through and would find ourselves on the lightning rail headed to Sharn. Every moment I delayed would bring the Mire closer to Sharn, so you see why I couldn’t bring you?”

No. Durag could be obstinate.

“Trust me. So with what little rest we had managed, we stepped through the portal.”

Onto the lightning rail? Durag quipped hopefully.

“My story,” I snapped. The mages claimed there would be a path to our destination. We stepped into the space between spaces. There was a path, true enough, but we were surrounded by grey nothing.  I couldn’t tell if I was looking out at miles of grey or but a few feet. Once we had all adjusted to our surroundings the lot of us advanced. The path—stone I think—stretched ahead, and while it wended unobscured before us, I had no sense of distance or any end to it.  After what could have been no more than moments but was perhaps much longer, Magnus exclaimed and pointed. The blasted rubble of some stone building littered the grey expanse. The blasted refuse floated what seemed a short distance away, until a small figure standing in half a shattered stone room belied it’s true distance. The small figure was a giant with a weapon taller than myself.”

Did you blast it from its perch?  It would have fallen for eternity. Truly a missed opportunity if you did not. Durag’s thoughts leaked into my mind.

“You do not poke a sleeping giant.” I replied. “Especially one who was not sleeping. In any case we continued until we had travelled a distance that seemed both negligible and immeasurable for a time that was both brief and too long. Later I realized this had been the Astral Plane. The plane between planes, the nothingness between all things. Wynn was the the first to note another portal before us and after a moment spent deciding our roles we stepped through."

In arcane circles, many strange and esoteric
tales are told of the Astral Plane.

I became aware that I was speaking my side of the conversation aloud, but Durag was only thinking his side. Should one of my companions be listening, I suppose they couldn’t think worse of me than they already did.

The lightning rail? Did you get to the lightning rail? Durag couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, it was finally the rail. My first feeling was discomfort. There was constant movement, almost as pronounced as the movement on a ship.”

Like when you killed the captain and blasted his lifeless body from his own ship? Durag’s thought was somehow higher pitched as I got to the good part.

“Yes,” I said, “Much like when I killed the captain, and honestly I planned to mete out similar ends to Katashka’s followers. Most of them, of course; not you. But you know, no plan survives contact with raksashas and their servants.”

“We had hoped for an inconspicuous entrance. It was not to be. The portal we stepped out of was both a strange sight and not silent. A rending sound made by the air itself could be heard even above the hum of the lightning rail. This was followed by a loud pop as my final companion, the eladrin Alea, stepped through the portal and it puckered closed. It left no sign that it had ever been, but we were immediately noticed by an assortment of steerage passengers. Truly, there appeared to be two of each race and nation represented in the enormous rail car in which we stood. Despite the disorienting facts that flooded my eyes, it was the smells that I remember most. Behind us were two heavily used privies and before us a wave of unwashed humans and humanoids, foods of a dozen nations, a hint of dwarf and a dash of something else.”

I stopped for a moment to drink, clearing my palate of the memory of the uncivilized odors. Durag seemed less inclined to interrupt now that my story had moved to the lightning rail.

The House Orien lightning rail is an experience. It is swift, crowded, filled with light and sound, with windows open to the sky and the overland sun. It is perilous, a conveyance that would be unthinkable to the tribes of my people.

“There was no outcry at our appearance,” I continued, "But many of the passengers who sat in benches before us moved to give us a wide berth. Three guards, uniformed in the livery of House Deneith—the human house of Sentinel—immediately approached us from the other end of the car and Aleae advanced towards them confidently. I followed her, thinking to support whatever tale she would spin, but only too late realized we were the least well equipped to negotiate. Neither the eladrin nor myself had set foot on a lightning rail before and my familiarity with proper train-hopping etiquette was non-existent. Fortunately, Clarion's unfailingly polite manner kept the exchange from venturing too far south.

Even with Clarion's assistance, we were not able to satisfyingly explain our odd entrance and the necessity of stopping the train. The guards were finally convinced to relay a message to their commanders, but only if we laid down our arms.”

I had misjudged my audience. These details left Durag unsatisfied and he was obviously preparing to interrupt again. He was no longer raptly watching.  He shifted his wings and his nostrils flared, but before I could hear his objection, I said “We fight soon, and I promise, someone is exiting the moving rail the hard way.”

Who was slain first? Durag's thought burst into my mind. Get to the good part.

“I cannot testify to his death, but one of the guards ended up being an rakshasa—a member of the lower, warrior caste, I suspect.” Now I had Durag’s attention. “I engaged him, but despite my best intentions to blast him from the train, it was Aleae who, with the telekinetic force of her magic, thrust him bodily through a window and dropped him out of sight into the Brelish countryside.”

“But this train had many cars and this was but the first. Magnus and I climbed to the roof of the next car and advanced this way. I focused my power on speeding my progress and Magnus relied on sheer strength to advance quickly. The roof provided respite from the olfactory assault that was a crowded steerage car and gave us a view of various flying figures approaching and keeping pace with the rail.  Ahead, a disturbingly large winged creature kept pace most easily. Then a burst of flames appeared overhead many cars ahead of us and, as if it were a signal, and the flying figures began to converged on the rail.”

Was the large one a dragon? More than carnage, Durag was fascinated by dragons. Hated them and loved them all at once for their power and for the enmity that dragons and fiends have shared since the Age of Demons.

“Patience, Durag, the dragon comes later,” I continued. “Magnus and I reached the front of the car as two harpies alighted on the roof behind us. Before dropping to the walkway between cars we harassed them with arrows and eldritch blasts but managed little more than to disturb their feathers. We stormed into the next car but found a crush of passengers trying to flee the way we had come. Our companions joined us and each of us was forced to push, bully, and threaten our way through the crowd.”

Durag had to ask. Did you kill any of the cattle? 

I didn’t glance at him as I said, “They are not cattle. I have told you before I would not weigh myself down further with more innocent blood.”

Then how did you get past them? It is easier to walk or fly above the dead.

“I attempted to be reasonable. When that didn’t work, I dropped my illusory disguise and showed them my true face.

"I also threatened to eat them.” I admitted.

“It was then that I saw what had frightened the cattle—I mean, the passengers. A troll was raging at the other end of the car, though how anyone would abide such a passenger before now is beyond me. Perhaps it was summoned with a spell. Benches had been tossed about like sticks and guards lay dead. The harpies took that moment to perch at the windows of the rail and use their vile songs to charm those within. It was largely ineffectual against us, but many of the passengers became enthralled. Aleae continued to use her Telekinesis to great effect. She grasped one of the sirens with a hand of force and dragged it from view. Scorched feathers rose where the harpy had been moments before.

With a few words between my companions, we took to our roles. Magnus engaged the troll and he and Clarion bulled their way past. I shifted my focus from enhancing my speed and cloaked myself in darkness. A guard advanced toward me and despite the inky blackness of my spell, stared directly at me as he attacked without hindrance. The guard was not as he appeared. A feline visage seemed to momentarily be visible where his human face had been and his hands turned to claws—another rakshasa-kin. The second harpy entered the car and continued its song.

I cleared my throat. “To put it briefly, I prevailed and all of them fell. Then I...”

Details! The word exploded from Durag’s mind. Speak of spilled blood and shattered bones.

I continued, “Yes, details, details. Well I managed to occupy the troll a bit longer, primarily by 'letting' it rend and bite me. It seemed the guard was immune to my magics—further confirmation that this was a fiend—although I was able to scratch him with my rapier.

Finally Aleae dispatched the harpy who had made her way into the car and Wynn savagely beat the troll and the fiendish "human" guard. I finally managed to separate from the troll before it took another bite out of me and attempted to make a meal of me. I blasted its head clean off and knocked its body twenty feet from where it had been.

Two passengers—veterans of the war, it seemed—showed some backbone and began to put the troll's remains to the torch. Wynn continued to lay about with her partisan, punishing the guard that I suspected was another rakshasa. With a flurry of stabs and chops using both ends of her weapon, she brought the snarling creature to his knees and seemed to have things well in hand.

Behind me my companions had opened the locked door to the next car and as I turned from the troll’s corpse and headed toward them, I saw Cypher.

I do not know what he had discovered on his scouting mission, but he now sported a green hat and was occupied at the mechanism that connected the two cars together. I did not see my other companions who had gone ahead, but soon I saw evidence of another fight on the roof. I could hear a strange song on the air—like a harpy's luring song but somehow sharper. I also heard Clarion and saw a glimpse of Magnus on the edge of the roof as he was buffeted and cut by something unseen.

Izzeth passed me to join in the combat. I am almost positive that he saw my injuries as he went and felt no urge to heal me. I do believe that half-drow has a full-drow grudge against me.”

It was at that moment I noticed Durag was not the only one listening to me. Izzeth was paying attention to my one-sided story and he didn’t look approving.

I didn’t pause from the telling. “Once I had assisted Cypher with the connecting mechanism, it was ready to release the cars behind us, but our companions were now on the roof of that car. Cypher and I left the connection and scrambled to the roof to join the combat.

A harpy was grappling with Magnus while Izzeth and Clarion had engaged a substantially larger and I daresay more colorful harpy who could only have been their leader. Not some minor boss but the chieftainess of her tribe. I knew this was Callain of the Bloody Word, leader of the Wind Howlers flight. My former allies had mentioned her though I had only glimpsed her from afar in Glyphstone.

It was she who had brought her tribe of harpies from out of Droaam in alliance with Trazzen. Our efforts at Glyphstone had whittled down that tribe, and now I believe this is all that remained of her army of monstrous women. Yet she seemed cooler of mind than her minions, angry but collected. She would not be half as easy to kill than they.


Worse, Callain's song didn’t charm but instead blasted and flayed the unwary. When she sang, the air itself cut like razor blades. I returned the favor and knocked her back with repeated eldritch spells, which eventually blasted the song from her lips altogether. Magnus managed to move clear of her deadly song and using the powers of his ice-bone mace—which I still cannot quantify—he summoned, right there on that very rooftop, a mighty winter wolf. I had never seen its like: like a great worg, but snow-white in hue and glowing blue eyes.

An instant after the wolf appeared, it lunged at Callain and struck her in the back. Her deadly song was halted!

But the fight wasn't won yet. In that moment I looked back toward Magnus. The lesser harpy he'd been grappling with, and was largely ignoring in favor of more dangerous foes, swooped upon him again! Though his body mass was considerably greater than hers, the savagery and tenacity of harpies is legendary. She pounced upon him in just the right moment, when his balance was compromised. With a grunt and a snap of her wings, she dragged him from the roof of the rail, and both of them dropped out of sight!

The winged harpy reappeared in my sight further out, riding the air currents. Magnus, however, had vanished.

Durag was overjoyed, Magnus fell from the train! Did his neck snap upon impact? Did his body break upon a rock? Did more harpies descend and tear him apart in a grisly feast?! What happened?

He was hooked. The little fiend needed to hear the rest of the story and it was my moment to take advantage of that. “Enough for tonight. If you would hear the rest of the story, promise to behave and I will continue tomorrow.”

Durag was taken aback. We had gotten to the best part. Is there going to be a dragon?

Now, to press home my advantage. “If you would hear the rest, swear to behave for a day. Don’t foul my companions' drinking water while they sleep. Don’t lick their rations. Say it or there will be no story tomorrow.”

Durag settled. You have my pledge, until tomorrow.

I smiled. “Agreed.” I looked over to see Izzeth’s horrified expression, who promptly checked his rations.

Here follows an excerpt from the memoirs of Varston of Karrnath / Zarantyr 26th, 999 YK

Kel and I had shared in an uneventful journey for most of our time aboard the lightning rail. The landscapes of enemy nations—no, former enemies, I must remind myself daily—flew past as like bleeding paintings. They were not real to me, not physical. Just images through a glass pane. At every check point and border since we left home, our papers were checked, our arms scrutinized. The Aundairians were haughty, the Brelanders were condescending, but we managed it without starting any fights.


Sharn had job opportunities for us, and a Karrnathi embassy so we'd find food that actually tasted good to eat when we got there. Just had to get there.

But in that last fateful hour, our lightning rail journey was not so uneventful. Evidently arcane terrorists had compromised the security of our rail—even the Deneith guards had been infiltrated. We might not have known about it but for the arrival of a parade of...I suppose they were civilians who, given their appearance, were either conscripted Brelish mercenaries or else carnival freaks. It was difficult to say which.

First, they were leaderless—a serious error on their part—and accordingly, each member of their party strove in a different direction. None were subordinate, none were senior. No chain of command united them. But for all that they were individually courageous and accomplished warriors. They fought unearthly foes with the conviction of a Karrn. What in Khyber motivated them?

The most notable surely was a Karrn. She did not wear the silver and black of the Conqueror's army, but she fought like a tempered general and outclassed the fiendish creature that masqueraded as human. She would have slain it then and there, but a white-gowned elf witch flung the demon out a window with invisible hand, after roughing up one of those damnable harpies with. The elf waif was pretty in a sneeze-too-hard-and-she'll-fall-down sort of way, but she was obviously an accomplished mage. Why she was dressed for a gala, I do not understand. Perhaps she was a noblewoman and these were her retainers? She lingered at the back of the fray, so this seemed likely.

There was also some sort of tribal warrior among them. The big man wore his scars and burns as if they were armor, and little else, as he ran about with a great bone maul. The troll didn't even seem to concern him; he had other enemies in mind, I guessed. The brute must been one of those savage hunters from the Shadow Marches, the sort you have to throw meat at to keep from attacking his allies. There was also a bizarre warforged with pipes protruding from its armor like quills, but it carried a shield and a metal-shod staff. Every now now and then, flashes of white light would appear around it. I daresay I think it was some sort of priest-construct. There was another elf-blood among them, hooded and garbed like a forest scout, but he mostly ran past and, I think, climbed to the roof after the others.

Somehow in the chaos, a Host-be-damned troll had appeared, and the one who paused to engage it was this party's strangest member: a bloody dark elf. A necromancer, if ever I saw one. I would not have guessed him to be an ally at all if he didn't fight the same enemies. Then I lost sight of him altogether when a great orb of darkness appeared, swallowing half the steerage cart and all of our enemies. Dark energies blasted within and without that sphere, though I only saw it from a distance—it was difficult to push through the crowd of terrified civilians. When at last Kel and I moved up close enough to engage, the troll came flying out of that arcane darkness in two pieces. The head had been decapitated by the dark elf's magic in mid-air. A gout of black-green ichor stained my own clothes; maybe that would be helpful to show my prospective employers in Sharn.

When the troll's body and head hit the ground, we wasted no time and set upon it before it could grow together again. I've carried a tinderbox on me ever since the summer of 979 when those Cyran bastards lured my unit too close that Khyber-shitting troll den. I'd rather be a weak-armed Aundairian than let a troll get the better of me again.

Kel asked the white-clad elf what was going on while I ran to speak with the Karrn. She, not the waif, would have the better sense to know where we were needed. Whatever was happening on this rail, we would engage it.

Death holds no terror.

#131 - Resurfacing

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

Zarantyr 26th, 999 YK

Plunged into darkness, my mind was swimming.
I had just let the mantle of earth slip off of my shoulders so that I could save Irakas from the assault of the oni. As an elemental, I had a new, profound connection to the earth of this place. A yearning to sink into the ground in the same way that one's foot dips into a cool lake on a hot summer day. More than that, I was able to "see" through the earth. Every creatures' steps upon the ground reverberated into my rock mind and allowed me to discern their location. I knew that there was a group approaching from the main chamber (although I did not know who they were).

I felt Irakas fall to the ground under the oni's spell. I knew from the tremendous clash that Clarion was also incapacitated. I knew precisely where each of my colleagues were, as well as where the vile vampire Trazzen stood. As soon as I reverted from my earthen form, all of my senses were gone. I cannot wait to try this again, only next time, someplace more natural where my elemental sensibilities are not inhibited by the workings of the Dhakaani.

From within the darkness, I could hear the golem once again awaken and level its mighty glaive onto Trazzen, then I immediately heard the sounds of rats, scores of them based on the din of their scrabbling claws and high-pitched squeaks. I can only guess as to what transpired, as the magical darkness that Bale produces is quite complete. Based on the sounds, Magnus slew some of the rats and then moved, presumably out of the darkness. Bale seemed to skewer some of the rodents as well.

Across the room, the oni's booming voice sounded, "return my jug." I thought I heard Aleae respond sarcastically, but the sound was merely a whisper, what I definitely did hear was the sound of ceramic grating on stone as something ceramic—the oni's jug, I assumed—rolled across the floor. There was also the sound of armored footsteps from the area near the cauldron. I suspect that Trazzen's vampiric minion was once more ambulatory. I moved out of the darkness so that I could best assess our current situation.

As soon as I stepped out, I wondered if it was a mistake. A gigantic mound of rats seemed to be working its way—no, fleeing—out of the chamber, but its progress was suddenly halted by a tiger-headed fiend and his attendants. Magnus was standing by the mound covered in bits of gore and rat fur.

The rakshasa spoke a word that was foreign to my ears and yet immediately recognizable. He had commanded the rats to halt. Sensing my opportunity, I called the light of the moon to shine down upon them where they had frozen in place. I knew that slaying them one by one would take far too long. I also revived Clarion with a quick healing spell—although it would not be as effective as one cast upon a living creature, it would still restore him to consciousness.

Looking behind me, I could see Bale's sphere of darkness move towards the cauldron, he must have been engaging Trazzen's minion. The oni stood still. He seemed to be appraising the situation to see what would happen next, satisfied now that he had retrieved his jug.

What happened next is difficult to describe.

The sun as it rises does not immediately warm the rocks that it shines upon; rather it takes some time for the heat to penetrate beyond the surface layer. The light of my moonbeam is the same. If enemies are mobile, they may escape its powerful gaze, but the mound of rats seemed fixed in place by the rakshasa's glare. When the moonbeam's radiance intensified, the rats began to smoke and sizzle, much the same as an ant held beneath the gaze of a spyglass. Their teeming bodies shriveled and then the entire mass transformed in front of our eyes back into Trazzen, but no longer the hearty and hale foe who drank from the necks of my companions. Instead, his gaunt figure began to wither and scorch. Tendrils of smoke rose up from his skin, swirling within his ancient bronze armor and escaping towards the unseen sky. His eyes lost their shine and within moments he was nothing but a dark ash. His armor and scimitar fell to the ground with a resounding report.

“This chamber reeks of failure," the rakshasa said, looking upon the ruin of this chamber. It was clear to all of us, without a word, that this fiend was an enemy, but we were not prepared to fight him and he seemed uninterested in fighting us. With

With a word he banished my moonbeam and he and his undead retinue advanced into the chamber of the cauldron. We, wisely, stepped aside to allow him passage. While we were clearly in no state to pose anything approaching a threat to the rakshasa and his followers, he seemed apprehensive, as though he was not sure that he could defeat us.

"I am quite certain you are the victors here," the creature went on as he walked about the room, surveying it. My associates and I will respectfully yield this piece of broken rock to you." He was referring to all of Glyphstone Keep, it seemed. The words that followed were a blur to me, but his smug countenance was not. He seemed almost amused that we had bested his agent and disturbed his plans.

I missed much of what he said, as I was concerned with the health of my companions. I was vaguely aware that he was warning us, telling us to walk away and live. To interfere no more than we already had in whatever he and his masters planned.

Meanwhile, I cast a mass healing to at least prepare us somewhat for what was to happen next and I fixed my eyes upon the byeshk scimitar that was once in Trazzen's hands. I would not allow this weapon to fall into evil hands again.

After making sure that all of my companions would live, I returned my focus to the rakshasa, and I found he was conversing with Bale. Asking Bale if he would return to the service of Katashka and he even mentioned someone else by name, a master. "He will be displeased to hear what his pupil has wrought here," is the last of what I caught. "I will bear a message to him on your behalf. Think carefully: What do you wish it to be?"

Bale's answer was that his master would be the next to fall. He declined, and I supposed that meant we were his chosen companions going forward. Can he be trusted?

Meanwhile, Magnus had claimed the still-smoldering skull of the hobgoblin vampire that had been Trazzen. It was only a matter of time before it adorned the human's belt, I suppose.

After the rakshasa departed, we returned briefly to the halls above us, returning the golem to its original location and discussing what had happened with Irakas. Then we left to foul confines of these dungeons, and passed through a long tunnel out into the open of the night. At last!

What a relief not to be surrounded by all of that stone! Breathing in the cool night air, with its aroma of damp earth, I could tell it had rained while we had been underground. I always feel strongest when I can breathe the air that has been cleansed by the trees. We took a quick survey of the land around us and saw that there were no threats, so we let down our guard and sat for a moment.

We knew that Elidac would find us out here, and sure enough, moments later a gargoyle alit beside us. It waited but a moment before taking flight again, presumably to inform Elidac that we were ready to head on towards the lightning rail.

While we waited I sensed a shift in the glen, a pause in the song of the crickets. I felt as though we were being watched, although I did not feel any ill will. Looking around, I noticed an extremely large creature about a dozen yards from us. At nearly three times our height, it was massive. It had stone grey skin and black, sunken eyes that seems like bottomless wells. The club that he bore was taller than I was. I knew with certainty that this was a stone giant. I know that they are generally peaceful and reclusive, yet this one seems to have sought us out. They are also found almost exclusively in Xen'drik. This one was far from home.

But then I understood that.

He spoke to my companions, having clearly met them previously. He offered us water to clean ourselves and instructed us to make our camp and to take our rest while Elidac completed his preparations to teleport us to the lightning rail so that we might stop the Mire from reaching Sharn. He left to get our water and returned a short time later with a female companion. She was at least 15 feet tall and had a way about her that made me suspect that, like myself, she followed the ways of the nature of Eberron. She conjured water into great bowls of shaped stone and we cleaned ourselves as best as we could.

As we rested, I sat with the purple scimitar that I had taken from Trazzen's remains. It is made from the same metal as my scythe, byeshk. This fine blade is quite heavy, such that I think it can be wielded with two hands if need be. Inscribed on the blade near the guard are some characters that are not readily familiar, but as I focused on it they revealed themselves to me. The runes were Goblin, but very, very old. Vaarza’Gresh, or “Razor of Giants, is the blade's name. It was made to kill giants, providing its wielder with great advantage against them. This is most curious, since I do not recall hearing stories of the Dhakaani goblins battling giants. The Age of Giants preceded the Age of Monsters; they did not overlap. By the time the goblinoids rose to power in Khorvaire, the giants had already fallen from their great dominion.

Also, being byeshk, this weapon retains its power against aberrations and it can warn its owner as to the presence of such creatures.

The others were pondering the nature of a small stone found in Trazzen's armor. I was able to inform them that it was an ioun stone and showed them the stone that belonged to my mother. I took my stone and threw it upward and they were suitably impressed when it began to glow and orbit around my head. I explained that there are many types of stones and that they each convey different advantages to their owners.

Tonight we rest, but tomorrow, at dawn if not before, our adventure continues. We must stop the Mire of True Hunger from fulfilling its intended purpose.

#130 - The Fate of One Vampire

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 25th, 999 YK

The frightening thing about being charmed wasn’t the unnatural loyalty I held toward Trazzen, it was how inexplicably suicidal my behavior became. Convinced that none of my allies would strike me—though they fought each other with deadly ferocity—I waded in and out of flying weapons and spells without concern for my well being. After Trazzen struck Irakas down, I crouched beside her in the midst of the melee and patched up her wounds.

My clumsy attempt at battlefield medicine completed, I wrested the Scepter of Glyphstone from the hobgoblin's grip. For safekeeping, my addled mind reasoned. If someone healed Irakas into consciousness, she would immediately reactivate the golem and turn the battle back in our favor, and therefore out of Trazzen’s.

The vampire’s new orders for me were to stop “the warforged,” clearly meaning Clarion, who stood before him blazing with radiance. He swung again at Irakas’s still-prone form with his byeshk scimitar, impossible to miss. I flinched as her blood sprayed across me at point-blank range. I couldn’t muster so much as annoyance at Trazzen, only general frustration and confusion at the whole situation.

For the second time Bale appeared out of seeming nowhere and stabilized her with a spell, drawing Trazzen’s ire. As I dragged Irakas back, Trazzen rounded on his former ally.

I was obligated to prevent Clarion from continuing his assault on Trazzen and his allies. Rather than try to convince the paladin that the vampire was an ally—even charmed I knew that was ridiculous—I asked him to aid me in securing Irakas’s safety instead of fighting.

Before Clarion could respond, the frenzied vrock he battled spewed toxic spores and lunged at me with its beak. The jolt of pain, combined with Clarion’s rallying divine aura, broke through the charm.

On the far side the Cauldron, Trazzen snarled something in Goblin at Bale that was incomprehensible to me, though it carried an unnatural force of will. I hoped the drow hadn’t been turned in my place; he was threat enough when he wasn’t enthusiastic about the vampire’s cause.

Farther off lightning crackled as Aleae engaged with something unknown, dangerous enough to frighten her into using the single spell scroll the Cyran wizard had given her.

While I reoriented my thoughts to the correct side of this conflict, Clarion healed Irakas just enough for her to awake. She scrambled upright and snatched the scepter out of my hands. At a Goblin command, the golem resumed striking the Cauldron. I warned the grievously injured hobgoblin to stay close to me. After Trazzen’s repeated insistence that I deal with her and remove the golem, I was now determined to keep her alive and the golem fighting.

I moved to stand beside Magnus and batter down the last pair of ghouls. In the corner where Clarion fought, a hollow sound preceded a final spray of brains and gore from the vulture-headed demon. On the edge of the dais, the golem topped the cauldron onto its side, spilling dark red smoke.

Trazzen skirted the fallen Cauldron but couldn’t clear the dais, blocked by me and Magnus. More fresh blood coated his mouth. He kept glancing at Irakas between sizing us up, deciding who looked weaker. I thought it would be me, and mustered whatever mental defense I could against more magic, but he lunged for Magnus and attempted to add more holes to his already ruined throat. It actually looked personal—these two combatants have some history.

A massive stone arm reached from behind and above us—Izzeth still occupying an earth elemental form—and grabbed Trazzen. Magnus pulled free of his grip and the vampire turned his attacks against Izzeth directly, attempting to cut him free of his elemental form.

My counterattack was interrupted when we were plunged into darkness that seemed to make the rhythmic clanging of the golem striking the Cauldron even louder. Steps away from a dangling, enraged vampire and a wildly swinging barbarian, if I struck blindly I could easily hit Magnus or Izzeth. Instead it was the perfect opportunity to remove Irakas from the fray and let those who could navigate the darkness handle the undead.

When we reached light I told Irakas to order the golem off the Cauldron and focus on our active opposition. She was obviously angered at having her decisions questioned—and I had been less than tactful—but didn’t argue or hesitate, and spoke more commands in the Goblin tongue.

We were pressed into the far corner of the room and the sounds emerging from the darkness were horrific. Irakas led the way down from the knot of fighting on the dais and we finally sighted Aleae’s opposition. An oni, near twin to the one we had met on the lower stairwell, who had warned us that the next time we saw “him” it would be his evil brother. We had been warned to not kill this one and it seemed that wasn’t likely at the moment, as he wielded an impressive glaive nearly as tall as the golem and simultaneously hounded Aleae with a glowing, grasping spectral hand. He repeatedly she return to him his "jug"—so this was another bit of history as well.

I asked Irakas if she knew anything about him, and was told that for all intents and purposes it was an enemy. She ran at him, cast a spell, and got cut down for the third time that minute. I decided that I might have set myself an impossible task by trying to keep her alive.

Perhaps it was lingering confusion from the charm, or that I had spent the better part of this conflict avoiding hostilities, but I couldn’t muster Irakas’s quick aggression against the oni. It wasn’t an ally of Trazzen’s, and his brother had assisted us earlier. I decided to press my luck.

Approaching slowly, I told him that I wouldn’t attack if he didn’t kill Irakas. I didn’t receive a reply, but was able to set aside my weapon to patch her up once more. The oni remained intent on Aleae, at least.

Along the opposite wall a cloud of mist fled out of the darkness, pursued and surrounded by Magnus, Izzeth, and Bale. Trazzen couldn’t outrun them as mist, yet abandoning the chamber would concede our victory over the Cauldron. He had no allies remaining.

With Irakas revived once more by the healing power of Bale—or was it someone else?—Irakas ordered the golem to attack Trazzan directly. When it did, the bronze statue's own massive glaive sheared through the vampire's armor and into his body. Blood—much of it very likely Magnus's—showered the floor, and my allies continued to harrass him with their weapons.

Someone struck a blow, and at first it seemed that Trazzen dissolved into his retreating mist once again. But instead of remaining vapor, a small horde of rats boiled out of his transformation. They weren't healthy rats, either—they were withered, mangy, skeletal, perhaps even undead. Was this Trazzen's end or a new manifestation?

#129 - The Battle Against Trazzen (continued...)

Zarantyr 25th, 999 YK

The battle against Trazzen and his allies continued.

Wynn shook herself free of Arafin's spell of holding, but remained charmed by Trazzen himself. She pursued the battle as it advanced into the chamber where the Cauldron itself remained.

While Clarion continued his fight against the vrock, Aleae slipped past it and entered the Cauldron chamber. Still invisible, she saw that the Cauldron of Rhumdal had been righted again by another vrock, a minotaur skeleton, and hulking pair of sludge-covered hobgoblin ghouls that appeared to be newly made by the Mire. In addition, three other ghouls lurked at the edge of the chamber.

Bale soon joined Clarion and the two began to push and blast the vrock out of the hallway and into the chamber. There, Bale used his sphere of darkness to challenge the ghouls that advanced on them.

Aleae made a daring run for the Cauldron itself, while invisible, and climbed its skull-carved rim. At the top, she dropped the red pearl that Elidac had given her—which he said could disrupt its power for a long time. Although she did this, Trazzen homed in on her and attacked. Although she could not be seen, the vampire lord could hear and scent her and after failing to grasp her for the first few seconds, he managed at last to take hold—and he sank his teeth into her shoulder, draining her blood. She broke free and scrambled away, still invisible, avoiding the use of magic that would break the spell.

Meanwhile, Irakas was revived but remained badly wounded. Gaining her feet, she commanded the golem forward again and the pair of them led the charge into the Cauldron chamber. Soon everyone had arrived.

When the golem entered the room, Trazzen gave up his pursuit of the invisible elf and went to engage it directly. He seemed one of the few effectively able to wound the animate bronze statue, using his byshek scimitar. Magnus and Izzeth clashed again, trading blows, bites, and grasping hands. The vampire lord drank of the barbarian's blood and Magnus continued to punish him for it. Both human and undead hobgoblin weakened, but Trazzen commanded Wynn—who was still enthralled by his vampiric power—and quickly accepted her blood to help heal him.

When Irakas used her magic to teleport across the room, Trazzen turned away from Magnus and sought her out—he understood that she was the only one who could command the golem. If she was slain, the golem would stop.

Magnus, Izzeth in his adopted earth elemental form, Arafin, and Wynn—in her own somewhat enthralled way—moved towards the column. Whether the battle would reach its conclusion, or be further scattered, remained to be seen.

#128 - The Battle Against Trazzen

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 25th, 999 YK

As the rest of us readied to return underground, Cypher conversed privately with Elidac. The Brelish warforged couldn’t in good conscience remain with Sharn at risk. Instead, he would take the wizard’s offer of a winged beast—a griffin—to intercept the lightning rail and do anything he could to stall its progress or disrupt the Mire of True Hunger alone. It was beyond risky but provided an unexpected benefit: Cypher’s presence at our destination would significantly improve Elidac’s accuracy with the teleportation spell for the rest of us. We wished him good luck.

I had few preparations to make and waited for the others, Fang ready in one hand, in the other hand a potion Garrek had given me with instructions to drink it as soon as we passed though the arcane gate. Bale cloaked himself in the guise of a gnoll, then hid that illusion beneath his habitual darkness. Magnus and I would enter under its cover, followed by Izzeth. Clarion assisted Aleae mounting behind him on his massive warhorse (the creature wasn’t skittish despite the increasingly crowded floating platform). Once astride, she turned herself invisible with a spell scroll.

The instant the gateway opened we charged through. A shiver passed through me. That hadn’t happened the last time. Our destination sounded wrong—not silent but too quiet for the battle we were expecting. I cursed Bale’s darkness, couldn’t deviate from the plan without knowing what we faced, and couldn’t stop moving or be crushed by the warhorse behind me. I drank Garrek’s potion and sought the edge of the sphere of darkness. Three illusionary replicas of myself appeared, weaving around me and beguiling any who would attack me. So is this what it feels like to be a wizard? In a pitched battle, this would only buy me seconds. But sometimes that mattered.

We hadn’t emerged beside Irakas and the golem as planned. The gateway opened on the far side of the battleground, opposite the Cauldron’s chamber by the stairs. I spotted the tall bronze golem immediately, towering dented and unmoving above a crowd of undead that ringed it at a ten-pace distance. Its glave was caked with blood. I couldn’t see Irakas, but heard an eerie singing. "Dirgesinger," the hobgoblin had named herself. It was the only explanation I had for the inability of the undead to overwhelm their position.

I started to move in, only then noticing an unfamiliar presence between us and the stalled battle. It was a tall figure with the head of a tiger and robed like a caster. Backwards hands. A name dredged itself up from the depths of my memory. Rakshasa. Little knowledge came with that name except that they were some sort of fiend or lesser demon…and that “lesser” was still powerful enough to single-handedly rout our attempt at reinforcement.

Yet the rakshasa ignored both us and the battle behind him. He began to walk away. Bale would later relate his theory that the rakshasa had "repositioned" our arcane gate.

Magnus charged past the tiger-headed fiend and crushed a ghoul not a dozen steps away from the rakshasa. Still the demon ignored him. More cautiously, I gave the creature a wide berth and kept it in the corner of my eye as much as possible.

Izzeth now, apparently!

Finally, I spotted Irakas kneeling beside the golem. In front of him was Trazzen himself, still in his elaborate plate armor, wielding that purple-hued scimitar. And he merely stared at Irakas. Trazzen’s lieutenants around him, surrounding her, some of them fidgeting and eager for her song to falter. Given the hobgoblin's obvious injuries, it wasn’t going to be long, and the golem appeared inert. She held a sword in one hand and the Sceptre of Glyphstone in the other, and I had the impression she was using the latter like a wizard might use a staff to channel his power.

Clarion and Aleae charged outward away from the rakshasa and undead, skirting mounds of gnoll corpses and made for the Cauldron with the red pearl. The few ghouls who noticed them scrabbled ineffectually at the horse.

Between Izzeth’s ice storm and the continual chaos of the darkness, we cleaved a path through the undead. The sphere spewed flaming arrows and eldritch blasts without warning, in between revealing Magnus’s mace or the arm of an earth elemental right before it connected with hapless undead. I have to accept the unexpected abilities of my new companions—such as Izzeth becoming an earth elemental!—without much pause. Unwilling or unable to fight the elemental, the ghouls and shrouded shade surrounded me instead.

Trazzen completed the flank, blocking my path to Irakas, who had ceased singing and struggled against the vampire spawn. With his resting place destroyed, the vampire wouldn’t heal from the injuries we inflicted this time, though he appeared fresh and uninjured. I barely dodged his openhanded blow. The illusionary mirror images from Garrek’s potion were long since gone and the shade’s necrotic touch was already wearing me down. I ignored the lesser undead and struck Trazzen, then used the Fang’s magic to teleport out of the trap.

My escape didn’t go unnoticed. Trazzen pursued me with frightening speed, but rather than attacking, ran past me. He spoke my name again, and again I was unable to resist the magic behind it. I was, once more, his ally.

“Stop the golem,” he said, looking at me over his should only for a moment. He turned and vanished back towards the Cauldron to intercept Clarion and Aleae.

My thoughts warred. I still wanted to defend Irakas, though she directed the golem. I wouldn’t hurt her. Couldn’t. I reached out to take the scepter.

A fierce spitting hiss came from behind me, and suddenly I was paralyzed. Arafin, that traitor! Didn’t she understand that she was going to get us all killed trying to hinder me?

One of the vampire spawn struck Irakas down. The golem was stopped, but at the cost of my ally. I struggled to throw off the spell as Irakas continued to bleed out at my feet.

Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed a blur of matted fur, then a lone gnoll leapt into the middle of the melee. There were no living gnolls here—the golem had broken their siege against its advance—except Bale, disguised. He stopped Irakas’s bleeding with a touch and snatched up the scepter.

I threw my mind against Arafin’s paralyzing spell before Bale could figure out how to reactivate the golem. I failed to break free, but one of the vampire spawn grabbed him before he could retreat. Under the illusion it looked like it grabbed the gnoll by the scruff and yanked him back over Irakas’ body. I was about to watch my allies slaughter each other, and was unable to do anything to stop it.

And little did I know, around the corner, Clarion and Aleae had been stopped short by a demon.