#80 - The Chamber of Offering

Craving rest and healing, the PCs deliberated as to the next course of action: break through the thin wall of stone and attempt to conceal themselves there or seek safety elsewhere. Irakas only one partial solution but preferred to save it for another time when the party was deeper in the dungeons of Glyphstone: she possessed a small glass sphere which could replicate the Leomund’s Tiny Hut spell. While it could ensure the safety of nine individuals (there were 11 total),  the extradimensional dome it would conjure would not necessarily be concealed. It could be discovered.

Irakas was most worried that the group would be discovered if they didn’t find shelter soon: it had only been a short while since they slew the guardians at the entrance and their enemies would discover this.

Dar used her druidic magic to change into the shape of a small spider. She crawled through the hole in the stone wall to examine the space beyond. Another door lay behind it, and beyond that a circular, mostly-featureless chamber that contained only nine round depressions in the floor. When she entered the room in her human form, she felt a strange humming energy in the air. It was ultimately decided that this chamber wasn’t worth the risk entering.

A new plan was hatched. Dar once again used her druidic magic to bestow great stealth upon all of her allies, so long as they remained close to her (30 feet). Meanwhile, Aleae used a spell of invisibility to run reconnaissance alone. Given that a nearby room was occupied by undead creatures (according to Clarion), the PCs finally decided to seek safety somewhere beyond the vast central chamber lit by the fountain and chalice.

So Aleae went out into the dark, quieted and concealed with the assistance of an infusion placed on her garments by Cypher. Despite their earlier “disagreement,” the eladrin and the warforged still had a common goal of survival, perhaps even triumph.

Aleae explored the vast hall, discovering strange features and a large number of doors along its perimeter. She also discovered that a second, possibly even larger room lay further to the south beyond a great curtain—a throne room, occupied only by a towering statue of bronze-colored metal carved to resemble a Dhakaani hobgoblin warrior.

She also discovered what at present was patrolling these chambers: a decrepit beholder (larger than the previous one) trailed by three shambling human corpses. She evaded it for a time, but the beholder caught her scene and began to glide after her. The other PCs were closer now and detected the threat. Lit only by the dim glow of the color-shifting chalice at the center of the Chamber of Offering, a battle ensued.

Aleae blasted the floating abomination with powerful winds from her Wand of Wonder, while arrows and javelins were hefted at the enemy. The beholder, once illuminated by magical light (in the form of Rungo, bespelled with Cypher’s magic), turned out to be dead: or undead, as it were. Its large central eye was all but gone, ruined and withered, while most of its eyestalks were broken or shorn away. Yet the creature had some vestige of its power in life, and used a few remaining eyestalks to lay enemies low with deadly rays. Magnus was stricken by magical fear, while paralysis took hold of Cypher. Dar was narrowly avoid a ray of disintegration.

The zombies proved tougher than they looked, absorbing blow after blow and arrow after arrow. Clarion and Kard put their holy water to good use—the zombies were burned like acid by its touch. Despite his fear of the undead beholder, Magnus managed to lob a few javelins into its dead eye. Kard boldly ran up to it, flinging his holy water into the ruined orifice and creating a virtual cloud of foul evaporating dead flesh.

At last, the creature tumbled to the ground, and the zombies were pulped on the floor in the Chamber of Offering.

#79 - Bronze Doors and Stone Coffins

From the Leaves of Memory, the written musings of Loh, druid of the King's Forest

Last thing I recall was running up the wall to towards the beholder-thing. After that, nothing. When I came to, I was crumpled on the ground, and my body felt tingly and weird. 

I hate dungeons.

After Cypher, Magnus, and the others brought down the many-eyed creature, Irakas and her hobgoblins huddled around the body of one of their fallen comrade. His face was clearly burned by fire, probably from one of the beholder-kin's blasts. While my companions debated what to do next, I hovered by the dirge singer and eavesdropped on their conversation. They didn't want to move on without honoring the dead. They wanted to bury him but knew this wasn't the safest place to do so; instead, they were opting to burn the hobgoblin's body in the tunnel.

To me, this seemed like a horrible idea. It could attract more attention to our location and leave a clear sign of our having been there in the first place. I reported what I overheard to the others, who agreed with me that we needed to find another way. Fortunately, I was able to persuade Irakas to let me transform part of the tunnel wall into a coffin—to shape the very stone, something I had only recently learned to accomplish—so the body would be safe and she could hopefully return for it later.

The surviving hobgoblins helped move a pile of boulders that sat to the left of the giant, bronze double-doors. I fashioned part of the exposed wall into a passable coffin. After the hobgoblins disguised my work with the giant's boulders, Irakas and her bodyguards broke into a mournful song.

When they finally finished their not-so-discreet dirge, Cypher withdrew an amulet from one of his many pockets and placed it around his neck. In Goblin, he commanded the Emperor's Key to open the door, and, to my astonishment, that's exactly what happened. The ornate doors opened slowly, and beyond them we saw a dark hallway. Immediately across from us was another short passageway that ended with another door, but the areas to the right and left were more difficult to see.

The so-called
Emperor's Key

Cypher wanted to jam the goblin door so that it could not be opened except by us or so that no one could enter it from the other side, but Irakas insisted we were wasting our time. She seemed convinced that our use of the doors would be discovered no matter what, and so we had best not idle.

The hallway smelled faintly malodorous, and Clarion identified the presence of several undead to our right. Luckily, they were moving away from where we stood. But who is working in these tunnels that has a use for the undead? Such hideous beings are uncommon in the civilized parts of Breland, surely. As far as I know, only in faraway Karrnath is this particular necromantic practice used openly. In Breland, most people who animate the corpses of the dead are almost certainly an enemy. In the King's Forest we would tolerate no such abominations.

To our left was a vast open chamber lit by a dim, color-shifting light. Those who observed it from the corner saw that the source was a large chalice sitting upon a pedestal at the center of some kind of fountain. This was nearly one hundred feet away! That is how large the room was. I heard Irakas mutter to Cypher that this might have once been a "Chamber of Offerings" when Glyphstone Keep was still occupied by her ancestors.

Uncertain in these new surroundings, I scurried over to the short hallway across from the goblin doors. There, Semel had pushed open another door. Inside was a circular chamber with four lit candles standing before the painted images of four human warriors, each one adorning the back of one of the chamber's doors. This also did not seem like a safe place to be. Semel ventured inside, and found that the flicking candle began to dwindle, as fire does when it is starved of air. Semel uttered the likelihood that this was probably a trap of some sort. He existed, and closed the door with a shudder.

Stories of the dreaded beholder are far more numerous
than any actual known encounters with one.

In the dark and away from the sounds of the natural world, I felt dull and useless. I spent the previous battle paralyzed, and I was exhausted from shaping ancient rock into a stone coffin. My mind is loathe and too spent to encounter whatever horrors lurked in this place. We all needed rest.

Aleae reported to the rest of us that she had spotted a beholder-shaped creature floating in the dark hall to the left of the goblin doors. By he report, this one is much larger than the one we fought! Beholders used to be just stories, even in my youth. They were a creature of the depths and the distant past, not a real threat. But Aleae's spotting of one, or something like one, quickly helped us decide to walk the other way, toward the undead. Choice takes on a new meaning in these dark places.

We moved quietly through the tunnel, fortunately discovering that one branch of the hallway led away from where we suspected the undead had gone. We paused when we encountered two arcane sigils inscribed on what appeared to be a dead end. One was as simple message meaning "magical danger," and Cypher suggested the other was the unique signature of a wizard.

Upon closer inspection we noticed an uneven hole in the stone wall, about fist sized. When we shined light through it, we saw another door several feet beyond the wall. Now things really weren't making sense, but it did seem like the space between the wall and the hidden door offered a place for some rest if we could just get in there without being obvious about it. Irakas asked if I could get us through the wall with my magic.

"No," I said. "I used the last bit of magical energy I had making a resting place for your friend. I need to rest."

I can only hope my coffin-making services aren't required again any time soon.

#78 - Dangerous Dissent

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

Disgraceful events unfolded today. Cypher disappointed me. How a creature can exhibit so many signs of more than adequate intelligence and yet lack so harshly in wisdom, compassion, and manners is a disgrace. It took long for warforged to claim their freedom and step out of their existence as beings created in slavery. How he could not immediately see and appreciate the unbearable suffering another being endures if bound or enslaved is difficult for me to digest.

Simel, on the other hand, did not know better. A battle-steeled human and bounty hunter, he is not likely to appreciate such fine matters. He must have found the two glass binding orbs—which he somewhat proudly presented to us as possible weapons against our foes—on that horrid hag’s body; the one who had come by wyvern wing and who I felt obliged to embellish with a few gems, giving her at least an elegantly-adorned ending.

Immediately I could feel the agony and suffering of these sad air elementals rushing through me as they had been circling for times unknown within these orbs. There was no time to be wasted. I sprung into action to grab the orbs and free the elementals from their prisons as soon as possible.

Cypher managed to get a hold of one of the orbs and proceeded to walk away with it. I repeatedly told him that these elementals needed to be freed and that he should hand me the orb he was holding. No response. I warned him that I required him to give me the orb before I had counted to ten. No response. I counted down. No response. I did what I must.

A ray of cold energy sprang from my hand and burst the first sphere, releasing the elemental which moved through and past Cypher. I marveled at the beautiful creature beginning its rise towards its freedom in the skies.

Cypher had little reaction. Like a true mechanical being, he lacked empathy; taking a moment to contemplate what had played out and why eluded him. His next move was perfunctory, rushing in and grabbing the remaining bound elemental from my palm like a clodpate. He began to move away from me with the second orb, needlessly prolonging its release. When my demands that he return it were ignored, Cypher left me no choice but to shatter the space around him with a spell. The orb smashed into a thousand fragments. Cypher’s own construct form was dented and damaged by both the force of my words and a furious blow from the elemental. The tension lifted from my shoulders as it departed skyward.

Never can I stand idly by while another being–specifically one deserving our consideration–is held against its will. (And particularly if that being has such raw and wild grace as that of an elemental.) I am aware that elementals are not treated well on this plane, but I will do whatever I can, whenever I can, to put a halt to these atrocities. My life and that of my entire line is due to the goodness of elemental beings and that debt is eternal.

The wild powers that are woven through and allow me to change the structure of reality were forged within and founded upon my family’s past. More years ago than most timeless beings can hold in their minds, my ancestors studied the elemental energies that form and reform so much of the universe. They even devised a way to travel to the Inner Planes themselves, which comprise the respective Elemental Planes of Air, Fire, Earth, and Water. These missions were incredibly dangerous and only very few of my ancestors dared to explore the wild energy and powerful beings that roam its structure during the short bursts of time that their still-only-learned magic could keep them safe.

One day during that era, two young members of my family, Lyarea and Aleae (brother and sister twins, and one of them my namesake) were introduced to the secrets of travel between planes and prepared for the journey. Impatient and reckless they decided to venture to a junction of the Inner Planes by themselves before their full initiation.

Very quickly they found themselves in the embrace of millions of fiery elemental beings whose genuine curiosity began to steadily weaken the magic they had woven around them and which would not long withstand the onslaught of these raw energies. Overwhelmed by what they saw and only partially prepared for what was required to return to Thelanis, they were surely lost. An ancient and powerful being as old as the world itself, whose true name would take close to a year to speak, beheld my ancestors and took pity upon them. It brushed all else aside and held them in its embrace and vowed its protection. It is told that the being was so expansive and different from anything that could exist on our planes that they lived and viewed the world from within it. It appreciated them and found ways to sustain their life.

More than a century passed within which my family would return to the Inner Planes and actively search for any signs of the two lost souls. One day a research mission happened upon a vast swarm of fiery elementals and, just as they were about to return to the safety of Thelanis, they noticed two unusual figures amidst a strong wind that parted the fires around them. Slowly, the two figures approached them upon the path the winds had carved and fires roared as far as their eyes could see. At last the lost were found. On this day the two were given the name Dwin’ Eytherarnith (Walkers in Forests of Fire).

Upon their return they would discover that they had been forever changed. They felt powerful and wild magic flowing through them. A deep connection to the elemental forces of nature coursed through their veins. While they were able to control some of these energies, others were beyond their will and would bring about unforeseen events.

My lineage traces directly from Aleae the First, and my family has been a member of the Court of Rose and Thorn since its formation in times forgotten. If I make a request, I expect a response. I will not be ignored. If I set an ultimatum because I am treated discourteously, I will act upon my promise. It is my hope that Cypher learned that lesson today. Of course, I am not pleased that he was hurt, especially while we are working together to fight great evils lurking amidst the gloom ahead of us, but he left me no choice at this instance. I thought he was better than this.

Except for the very end, most of the events between Cypher and me were lost by the others as they were investigating the cave entrance. The loud noise created when I broke the second orb drew everyone's attention. Magnus immediately asked both of us how we could turn on each other like this and I could see that Clarion was equally filled with misgivings. I felt too hurt and distracted by what had just happened that I ignored Magnus and the others and began walking into the cave opening, onward into the dark and unknown.

As we marched slowly into the darkness of the tunnel—this allegedly secret entrance/exit to Glyphstone Keep—Clarion began to speak to me in my mind. Knowing my history, he could understand why I reacted so strongly when elementals were involved, but still deemed my actions, as he put it, “a bit excessive given the circumstances.” He did not understand why Cypher would not acknowledge any of my requests until I began using force. Still he insisted that I must speak with Cypher in the near future and tell him that I was sorry that he was hurt. We would talk about this at some point. Later. Possibly.

For a moment it crossed my mind whether Cypher’s behaviour had been linked to the dormant darkness that Clarion had warned me about? A shadow that could find its path into the minds of Cypher and Magnus via the marks they bear on their skin and which are unholy signs that they were touched by great evil?

We progressed in silence and without light through the passage leading from the cave entrance where we had left the body of the chimera, the fierce and magnificent beast whose existence we had ended unceremoniously. Musing through the depths of my mind I somehow found myself walking ahead with the hobgoblin Duur'kala, Irakas, and her protectors.

We came upon what appeared to be a three-way junction and Irakas pointed out the presence of a strange symbol on the floor ahead of us, a star with eight points which she believed to be of some significance. It was briefly observed more closely by some in our party but we prepared to press on once the absence of traps was established.

Immediately, we noticed the presence of some kind of creature lurking in the dark further down the path that had opened to our right, announcing itself through crude grunts and an odor reminiscent of half dead boars dipped in a swamp hag’s refuse.

Being the only ones able to see in this darkness except for the other hobgoblins, Irakas and I agreed to scout for the source of these odious signs of something disgusting. A deep and boorish voice bellowed from somewhere down the path. It was hard to decipher the words as they bounced and echoed along the walls. "SPEAK WATCHWORD!"

In silence, I messaged Clarion for I knew he might be able to read the creature's mind and possibly allow us to pass without a fight. Whatever had spoken was of simple mind and potentially easily tricked. Even if it did not work there was the potential for some much needed fun to be had.

Joined by Clarion we moved deeper down the passage. The voice spoke again: "Say watchword!" Clarion needed to get closer and see the creature in order to possibly learn its thoughts.

"Let me approach so that no one may listen," Clarion spoke with calm resonance into the darkness.

"Hurry," came the gruff reply.

Just then our shadows began to dance wildly across the walls ahead of us as what I discovered to be Rungo, the strange metal doglike contraption that accompanies Cypher, scurried along the walls with eyes brightly lit.

A large boulder crashed into the wall, clearly aimed for Rungo who continued unscathed. “Do not worry about the dog, he was just too excited,” Clarion replied.

Another boulder hit Clarion square on the chest causing a significant dent. “No need to break stone!” he answered, his voice resounding powerfully, yet trembling from the impact of the large rock. “We know the watchword. Let us approach so that no one may listen.”

What we could now slowly recognize as a large brutish unkempt hill giant standing before a set of tall bronze doors halted for a brief moment, another rock ready in hand. Clarion’s magic worked and it only took a few moments after he had gotten close to the giant that he exclaimed, “The watchword is Shadowcrag!”

The unpleasant features of the giant we were staring into lit up slightly in surprise. The giant dropped the rock he was holding atop the pile next to him and began fidgeting with an unusual scroll case set with a stone. “He will ask for our invitation,” I heard Clarion speak in my mind, a detail he must have gleaned from the shallow thought processes in which he was probing. A very quick display of what I considered an appropriate representation of our identification was insufficient.

I almost lost myself in the little dance I had the piece of conjured paper perform in mid-air. The giant involuntarily and clumsily joined in, grasping wildly in his pursuit of my illusion. A sense of relief was written upon his grim face as I allowed the paper to slip into the case. Then he took a look at the scroll case and stared at its inlaid gem. He was obviously anticipating something to happen, which I hastily tried to provide for his dim wits. It would appear though that the gem on the scroll case was not intended to blink. If I had devised the mechanism I would have made it blink. Clarion was immediately hit by the hill giant's massive club and a full battle ensued. Magnus, hungry for a battle, rushed ahead and began meeting the legs of the hill giant with the icy weapon within which the spirit of another giant dwells.

In the fight against such foe, I believed Clarion and Magnus to be highly effective at drawing the might of the giant so I empowered them with the speed of the wind, allowing them to hastily double up on our feeble-minded foe while I would stand back behind the ranks of our allies. A mighty blow reached for me from the large brute but Clarion was able to raise his shield against it, allowing for my safe retreat.

Not long after battle had begun, an unnatural change came upon the already odious atmosphere in these close quarters. A strange creature, one in many ways resembling a beholder but smaller than those horrid creatures of legend, had descended from an open shaft somewhere in the ceiling of the room where the giant had awaited us and was unleashing a barrage of ray attacks, repeatedly searing Clarion.

One blast ushered Magnus into a mortal sleep. One of the hobgoblins dropped to the floor with another scathing ray and I swiftly found more than half of our companions staring up at the creature's massive central eye, stupefied, obviously drawn into some kind of trance. Although the giant had succumbed to our combined onslaught, the creature from above worried me. I had decided to return its favors and sent rays of magic at it, but it seemed that the creature possessed a counterspelling ray with one of its flailing eyestalks. We had to end this aberration quickly or perish amidst the filth and dust of these dark passages.

#77 - Going to Glyphstone

The PCs met with the hobgoblin woman Irakas, whom some of them had met in the company of Three once before, and her honor guard of three half-plate-clad hobgoblin warriors, Haluk, Saltuk, and Kurat.

Irakas was a Duur'kala, a "dirge singer" of Darguun, and are a musically trained order of storytellers in the Dhakaani culture. They are also spiritual leaders held in high esteem. It is said they even among the warring clans of Darguun, it is considered a treasonous crime to kill a dirge singer, for through them the ancient legacy of Dhakaan endures.

Since the PCs were intent upon venturing to Glyphstone Keep, Irakas wished to accompany them as allies, for she has reason to believe something bad was stirring there that could prove to be a threat to many, including Darguun. Like Three, hers was a premonition and little more.

And so she explained the history of Glyphstone Keep. Here is paraphrased her words.

“To understand Glyphstone Keep, you need to understand what it represents. In its original tongue, the keep is known as Lharg Shtaraaz, the 'Tower of Sigils' in Goblin, and it is named for the arcane archives curated by the clan who once ruled it. Like the nations of Galifar, Glyphstone once served as the seat of power in this part of the empire. It was a local center of authority and protection. Settlements throughout what is now Breland paid tribute to Glyphstone's rulers—a noble family of wizards among the ghaal’dar(hobgoblins) with strong ties to the Emperor himself—and in return they received protection.

“Now imagine if you can a time long before humans came to these shores. And imagine a conflict greater than the Last War, where numerous legions beset all of civilization on Khorvaire—the entirety of the Dhakaani Empire—on many fronts. More than nine thousand years ago, the plane of Xoriat, the Realm of Madness, became coterminous with Eberron. And when it did some of the daelkyr stepped into our world and sent their minions to seize our world and make it their workshop.

"The daelkyr are powerful beings that corrupt and warp anything in our world that they touch. Sages think of them as generals or kings of Xoriat, but they are more like great artists or scientists, less interested in dominating as studying and changing everything…in horrible ways. It was these daelkyr, and the servants they brought with them, and the new creatures they spawned, that attacked the Dhakaani Empire. It was not merely military might that the daelkyr sent against us, but also the seeds of madness, of doubt and rivalry. The aberrations wounded Dhakaan with brute force, but it was their infection that truly crippled our once great empire. We fell from infighting and civil strife.

"Although in time the daelkyr were defeated and driven underground into Khyber, and the connection between Xoriat and Eberron severed, there were many cities lost, many people slain, and the empire could not recover from the damage.

One depiction of a daelkyr.

“But before that end, in this part of Khorvaire, in what is now Breland, one great army was sent against Glyphstone Keep by the daelkyr known as Belashyrra, the Lord of Eyes. Belashyrra did not himself lead this army; instead, it was led by his mind flayers, who were as generals in their ranks…if any such comparison can be made to the military regimes of our world. The creatures of Xoriat are madness personified; they are alien, and do not think as the mortals of Eberron do.

"Thousands of their minions marched and slithered before them as soldiers of this great army. Dolgrims and dolgaunts were the most numerous, but larger, fouler monsters went with them, including some of the many-eyed beasts known as beholders. They overwhelmed the smaller towns and villages of the land. Refugees poured into Glyphstone Keep for miles around, hoping to survive the invasion there.

"And indeed, Glyphstone and its rulers held back the aberrations for a long time. And unlike many of the Dhakaani city-states, such as Paluur Draal, it did not wholly fall to the forces of Xoriat in the end. Instead the ruling family won a pyrrhic victory against the invaders, luring Belashyrra's entire army of monsters into its halls and through a gauntlet of magical wards and mechanical traps. Finally, the upper levels of the keep were collapsed to slay or at least trap any of the monsters who survived. The daelkyr's army had been destroyed but many of the dar (goblinkind) sacrificed themselves to achieve it.

"Yet some survived. They devised one method of escape, and they sent away their most valuable individuals and their youngest through a hidden tunnel that they used powerful magics to create and conceal during the siege. The secret entrance led from the upper level of the keep’s subterranean half and was cloaked by illusions. If it remains, it has not yet been found by any of us. Even the descendants of Glyphstone's inhabitants cannot recall it.

“For thousands of years, few have taken an interest in Glyphstone except for my people. But in recent times, two new legends have surfaced, though neither can be substantiated:

"The first legend is that during the Last War, a being of unknowable, celestial power—an angel or archon, some call it—came to Eberron and entered the ruin but never came out again. Never ascended back to the realm where it came from. Followers of the Silver Flame believe it was a servant of their nameless god, but even they do not know its purpose in going to Glyphstone, or why it never came out again.

"The second legend is of a human mage named Elidac. According to stories, he was a Brelish arcanist who was drafted into the Last War, and during his time in the Brelish Army became eccentric, strange, and powerful, and when he left active duty many years later grew he went into seclusion in Sharn, the City of Towers. Years later, older then, the stories say that he entered Glyphstone Keep with a company of like-minded companions—each one a wizard from a different nation. Aundair, Karrnath, Cyre, and Thrane. What became of him no one knows, but many theorize that they were conspiring against their former nations, that each had some grudge against his or her former government. Many remember Elidac—enough to verify that some measure but somehow no records exist."

Three, the King's Protector, confirmed this part of Irakas's story. Namely, that the Brelish wizard named Elidac, while he is remembered, does not appear to exist on any military roster. Some strange magic must have erased him from all documentation.

Irakas concluded, "He allegedly entered Glyphstone in 994 YK, two years before the Day of Mourning, and that is the last anyone knows."

At this point it was agreed that the party would venture to Glyphstone Keep as soon as they were ready. Leaving their horses (Torc and Whirlwind) stabled, handled by Three, and wrapping up a few curious errands—such as Aleae's commission for shiftweave garments—they were soon made ready.

Meanwhile, Cypher was grimly "noted" by officials of House Cannith for refusing to sell the strange schema in his possession. Once they had examined it, he was informed that the schema was considered property of House Cannith, and in fact was a necessary component for some machine or devise in Eston (formerly Cyre, now the Mournland). Kuven d’Cannith, the artificer assigned to oversee Cypher's work at the enclave, told him that if he relinquished the schema (for several hundred gold pieces), he would commend Cypher to Baron Merrix (head of Cannith South) himself! It was somewhat implied that if he refused to sell the schema, that, too, might come to the baron's notice.

Cypher chose not to sell.

Soon after the PCs started the day's walk with Irakas and her warriors to Glyphstone Keep, where at night fall they arrived and found an encampment of goblinoids. It was not a military encampment, but was nevertheless a gathering of at least a could hundred goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears—mostly Darguun migrants, but plenty from Breland as well. It was not clear why they were there, not even to Irakas, but strange rumors floated about the camp. Strange sightings, strange beasts, strange sounds. There was even the rumor that purple worms had been sighted! (Yet no actual tunnels revealed.)

The PCs made their own camp separate from the goblins, resolved to follow the map given to them by Sylvander the next morning.

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

Cypher and Dar were able to read the map and get us from Glyphstone Keep down to the water's edge where the river splits. As we entered the clearing near the cliff's edge, things changed, as if some veil was lifted and we could suddenly see the real land, including a cave entrance surrounded by partially worked boulders.

Just as we walked into the clearing, approaching the cave, a few things happened at once. One of the large boulders rolled loose from the cairn-like arrangement smashed into Clarion. It had its own face and stumpy but powerful limbs! Then a beautiful feminine voice filled the air and I was completely overwhelmed with the music and the creature singing. I was so charmed by her that I more or less ignored the chimera that then emerged from the cave: a lion head, a goat head and somewhat perverted dragon head in the center. It had wings too...

The harpy flew away from the opening and I followed her to the gravelly cliff leading down to the river, Simel and a couple of the hobgoblin guards followed as well, likewise entranced. All at once, I shook off the harpy song and pulled back, seeing her intention to lure us into the fall. I tried to grab Simel as I ran back to fight the chimera but Simel was surprisingly fast and I could not get a hold of him.  I pivoted and yelled out to the flying three-headed beast, "Come and Fight ME!!"

Cypher, Rungo, Clarion, and Kard were battling more animate boulder-men near the cave entrance and they seemed to be holding their own, but getting really banged up in the process. Clarion used his thundering-wave spell to push the rocks around and Dar conjured lightening from the stormclouds above and then a lion and an eagle to help the fight (it seems that they are not real creatures but some spirit guardians from her druid magic—never mind, we need the help).

Aleae used her Wand of Wonder to blast the creature back with a massive gust of wind and she came close to me. The chimera flew close to Aleae blasted us both with fire. I flew into a rage and Aleae sprinted away. Seeing an opportunity, I ran and jumped up into the air delivering a couple of massive blows (infused with ice from the mace) and one of them flashed a flame blast as the mace connected with the goat head.  The smell of burned flesh let me know that it was not completely immune to fire.

I tried to land on the chimera's back, but slipped off. Simel shook off the harpy's song and joined the fight with a few arrows and Aleae threw down an ice storm giving the chimera a frosty blast. By the cave entrance, the rocks were depleting our warriors and both Clarion and Kard took turns getting knocked unconscious and reviving each other.

I was getting worn down, too. After one of the hobgoblin warriors stepped out over the edge, the harpy was taken down with quick blade work from Simel and a devastating blast from Cypher's acidic armbow. Then, quite suddenly, one of Simel's arrows slew the chimera—a well-placed shaft protruded from the eye socket of its dragon head and the whole beast tumbled to the ground. In a few more seconds, the boulder-men "died," too, crumbling into smaller pieces. The battle was over.

I could feel inside me that Storgrimm, the frost giant spirit of my mace, was not so impressed with my part of the battle. He he felt that I should have delivered the killing blow to such a foe. I try. In any case, I'm keenly aware that he lingers close inside the weapon, watching me, assessing me. He will be difficult to impress, but if I am to awaken greater power from the Defiler's Bane, I will need to.

I took a few minutes wandering around the battleground. Kard healed me up and I looked down into the cave opening, ready to descend. The hobgoblin woman commanded me to keep my light out of the entrance and that we should clean up a bit to hide the fact that we were here from prying eyes. She is worried we will be discovered.

It doesn't make sense to me, I think we should stand and fight all who come. The rest of the party took some time to rest and for some reason, I worked with the hobgoblins to move the carcasses of the harpy and the chimera into the cave mouth, out of sight.

I feel well enough, and ready to get underground and hunt down the Governor vampire.. or whatever else awaits, including the Blue Wraith.

#76 - Cold Prophecy (Part 2)

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

Storrgrimm kept swinging his axe and telling me that I was not worthy to wield Haurach, the great bone-maul. I was smashing away at his legs with my old Seren mace but I just couldn't land a real blow. His wolf kept after Clarion and I both and we were all getting worn down. Clarion kept taking immense amounts of damage, but his hewed-up armored body seemed to keep going. The snow around me with spattered with my blood, flowing from slashes. Each cut would have taken off a limb if I wasn't as fast as I was. But through my rage I still felt cool, and the pain was minimal.

Eventually with another swing of that mighty axe, the frost giant sent Clarion crashing into the snow. I can never tell at first if a warforged is actually dead or just—as Cypher calls it—"disabled."

At the same time, something seemed to happen to Aleae, as if the fey (Faye?) had taken her away in some way. She had the Wand of Wonder in her hand but she seemed to flicker in and out as if she wasn't really there with us. She managed to focus herself enough to revive Clarion with a spell, and she used her wand to conjure a torrential downpour on all of us. Not useful in any way, but that is what she did.

Simel was holding his own against the wyvern and the air elemental, which was attacking both Simel and the wyvern. The fighter somehow managed to bend his rapier when he thrust it hard against the ground and at a bad angle. (I think I would rather use my fists than a rapier...)

Surprisingly, both foes gave up and flew away. The wyvern was badly wounded by arrow and blade, and without the witch to lead them both, they just lost interest. Lucky for us they did flee, because Simel was bleeding pretty well now, too.

Storgrimm landed a shot that knocked me flat. Another chop from the axe would have cut me in two, but I awoke mere seconds later when Clarion, still badly compromised, had used a healing spell to revive me. Storgrimm seemed happy to have me back in the fight. If he weren't nearly twenty feet tall and clearly preferred colder climates, he could have been a Bringer of Fire like me. His anger, his lust for battle, and his desire for a foe worthy of challenge was admirable. But he still needed to die, so we fought on!

Clarion stood up. Storrgrim snarled at him and hacked him back down with two swipes of his axe. Once more the warforged crashed into the snow and lay still. At one point Simel called out to me, shouting his encouragement, and it reminded me that I was not here alone despite the power of my foe.

I dodged around the giant and drank what healing draughts I carried, buying a few precious seconds. If I was to be slain this day, I would prolong it. Red dragons and their heirs last. The potions did make me feel better and I chose to slow down a bit. It was time to make my blows count and to stop being so reckless.

Simel started loosing arrows at Storgrimm and the giant blocked a few with his shield. With that distraction, I finally landed a good shot as he overreached and he leaned down within my reach. I swept my mace straight across his face, breaking teeth and filling his mouth with blood. His smile disappeared. The winter wolf instantly went over and attacked Simel, breathing out a blast of frost like a small white dragon.

A few more swings between Storgrim and I passed. I was almost done. I was bleeding badly and staggering around light-headed.  Suddenly, I saw an opening and got a great overhand shot direct to his chest.

He looked startled. He said, “You surprise me, Seren,” and his eyes lost all semblance of the life and vigor of battle. His wounds vanished even as his body reverted into icy mist, reminding me that he was somehow more spirit than giant. Even the winter wolf dissolved into mist again. As the fog rolled back in, I could see the bone mace lodged in the snowy ground in front of me. I yelled out that Clarion was down and needed healing. Simel limped over and poured a potion into whatever passed for the warforged's throat, waking him up. Clarion, of course, set to healing us as well.

I picked up Harauch again. This time I could feel it. I had earned the ability to not only carry it but to wield it. Storgrimm was there in the mace, a grudging ally who would be observing me. Was it his ghost, or just an echo of his spirit? I could sense that he was unfettered by time. He had been a chieftain in his time thousands of years ago...and so this weapon was just as old.

I now had his permission to use the mace, but its full power would come as his opinion of me improved. The more I seek out the enemies of Vensheratryx and his rakshasa servant, Avashad (the Defiler), and work to resurrect the Winter Coalition, the more powerful the mace would become. I don’t know if the images in my mind are promises of things to come or of things the mace had already done. At one point, it felt as though I was Storgrimm in another time, or one of the others who carried Harauch. I knew that with time and commitment, I could awaken deeper powers within this artifact. I could summon the winter wolf, Warlazz, and conjure storms of ice. I might even be able to invoke Storrgrim incarnate. I need more time and some advice to understand this new tool. I wonder what Cypher will think of it.

Luckily, Cypher, Kard, and Dar soon arrived as the four of us were standing around in shock and looking for our horses. On their way here, they had seen the fleeing wyvern. Cypher had blasted it with a magic missile, and Dar used some crazy moon magic to knock it out of the sky. It crashed to the ground, slain at last.

Everybody was patched up into a fighting state and the site was explored. I was spent. I wanted to get back to the Royal Bear Inn and rest and talk to my companions about what had happened here.  They agreed and we want back to Wroat, talking the entire way.

Excerpt from the Cypher's Codex: The Scrawlings of a Warforged Scholar

In the wake of Magnus's battle with the "entity"—a frost giant, truly?—of his intriguing and re-awakened weapon, there was still the matter of the wyvern-riding sorceress which presented a minor mystery to us. She had been slain by Aleae, not with a spell of her own but from, as I understand it, a curious discharge of gemstones. [Annotation: The Wand of Wonder is indeed just that, a great wonder. If only Aleae could spare the Wand for a few years to allow me to study it.]

We knew that the air elemental-conjuring sorceress was in league with Drazul, for we had fought with her outside of the Dragonwood. But how had she found us? Wroat is no small community, and to have eyes on every gate is highly impractical.

Kard, however, had the means to extract some answers. Using a clerical spell of necromancy, he forced the dead wyvern-riding sorceress to answer five specific questions.

We learned that her name was Unatiss and she was a mercenary or bounty hunter allying with our enemies for the gold it would earn. She claimed to not know the names of others who are hunting us. When asked how she would have proved to collect the bounty placed on our heads by Governor Trazzen ever since our time in Droaam, she answered: "I would bring the heads of Rendar d'Tharashk and Magnus to Glyphstone Keep." This further proved that our enemies—or some of them—reside in that ruin.

Three, the King's Protector

I was curious to notice the omission of my name from the bounty hunter's re-animated lips. Was this another example of latent warforged racism, indicating that my corporeal dome is not worth as much as that of a human's or half-orc's? Does not my ghulra not uniquely identify me, as the face of a flesh-and-bone creature can identify him? Was my involvement in this plot even known to Governor Trazzen?  Perhaps this could be used to our advantage, seeing as I am the one in possession of the Emporer's Key and the schema from the body of Claviger.

Upon our return to the capital city of Wroat we were informed that Three had returned and we were summoned to the Citadel for our debriefing. After asking for our trust in Dar, Kard, and Simel, he met with all of us. Three confirmed for us that appropriate emissaries of the crown would be sent to meet with Sorethyress as she had instructed us. The King's Protector also said that he had sent a missive to King Boranel himself on our behalf to make him aware of us and our actions. I informed my companions of the great honor we have had to serve the King, although Kard didn't seem as interested in the honor. I was happy to have served the crown in such a satisfactory manner.

Three informed us of some other events that had been occupying his time. There have been strange occurrences in the region. No one of these, he said, were so concerning, but all of them together are.

In addition to an unusual number of wyverns spotted in and around the Bear's Wood, reports of strange winged beasts have been coming in around outlying farms. There were attacks mostly on cattle. The winged creature or creatures are reported to breath fire (based on the scorch marks or charred remains), fight with their claws and bite, and they tear apart their prey, but they are decidedly too small to be dragons. Of the many cattle that are killed, only some are eaten, which seems to have confounded the agents of the Citadel, for most creatures large or numerous enough to kill livestock do so for food.

In addition, unnatural phenomenon—that Three did not describe—have also been reported in the King's Forest by the Knight Rangers. The Knight Rangers, I have learned, patrol the borders of that forest to counter the actions of poachers and bandits and work to keep dangerous monsters from venturing out to endanger the Brelish people.

Three said that the Citadel is sending an envoy deeper into the wood to take counsel with the Shadows of the Forest. This is evidently a rare occurrence. Dar told Three that she was affiliated with the Shadows, the quasi-legal force of druids active deeper inside the King's Forest where even the Knight Rangers do not go. Three surprised her by indicating that he knew something of her history. The necessity of Dar acquiring identification papers in this city will have had something to do with that.

Three then mentioned that Princess Haydith, Karnathi royal and sister to King Kaius III who resides in King Boranel's court as part of the foreign exchange of royals, has also gone missing. However, he abruptly moved on from that topic to talk about the recent theft at the Wroat Exchequer's office. Later, Aleae speculated that Three may have told us about the princess accidentally, although I find it hard to believe such a noble warforged would make such a mistake.

We told Three about our recent inquisitive work on behalf of the crown, such as our encounter with Lord Szen and how that led us to the forger Sylvander. I told Three everything about the last week, including the fact that we made a deal with the Sivis excoriate in order to secure a map of the secret meeting place of the Blue Wraith at Glyphstone Keep. Three asked me why we would not bring a criminal directly to the Citadel, and instead hand one over to the impartial Carnival, but I assured him it was for the greater good of Breland. His reaction and opinion of this response was unclear.

Based on our own intelligence, Three then made a request of us. He asked if we would investigate Glyphstone Keep, for unsubstantiated rumors and signs have been reaching him regarding that old ruin and he wished to either (1) dismiss them or (2) confirm that there is something there worth considering. What we learned from Sylvander regarding a conspiracy against the King was still only secondhand information, but if valid, worth investigating. If evil druids, the Order of the Emerald Claw, or any other agencies bent on regicide are conspiring there, then as First Sergeant of the Brelish Engineers Brigade, I would see them removed.

Three informed us that gargoyles had also been sighted perched or flying around the spires of the keep. I waited for Kard to share with Three about the encounters with gargoyles on the open plains of Breland, but instead Magnus told the story. None of the other recent events—the wyverns, the unknown winged, fire-spewing beast, the missing princess—pointed directly to Glyphstone, and therefore Three cannot actively counsel King Boranel accordingly. If, however, we were to discover a true threat there, he would have the evidence he needs to take military or governmental action.

Glyphstone, he explained to us, is considered something of a memorial to the descendants of Dhakaani. And in fact recently a small encampment of goblins has been seen growing around the base of the keep. Some came from Wroat, but most were migrants from Darguun. So far they have made no attempt to enter the ruin and they have broken no laws, so again, the Citadel is hesitant to take any action.

Of course, we immediately agreed to go to Glyphstone Keep. We had already resolved to do so for purposes of our own. Before he parted company with us, Rendar told us he knew with certainty—through the mystical connection he had to his dragonmark—that Governor Trazzen resided there now. Kard, too, had come seeking our help in entering the place.

But because for Three the troubles concerning Glyphstone Keep were only a matter of speculation thus far, we would not be working as inquisitives for the Citadel. Rather, we would be doing so as a favor to him.

Three waited for us to agree, and then told us he would like us to speak with the Darguun diplomat Irakas. She is a hobgoblin and a dirge singer (a bard among Darguun culture), and we had met her before on the same day when we first met Three. She and her companions had been especially interested in the Emperor's Key then, but we had managed to avoid concluding potentially hazardous discussions with her. She had come to Three as a delegate of Darguun seeking permission to enter Glyphstone Keep, where the Brelish government does not allow trespass. Most importantly, Three said that Irakas would know more about Glyphstone Keep and its history than anyone.

Now that I have had a chance to brew potions for the party and enhance Rungo's abilities, I am eager to travel to this ancient fortress on behalf of my country. But yes, we must first gather information.

#75 - Cold Prophecy (Part 1)

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

The letter from Lord Syraen was more than I had thought possible. Firstly, it sounded like he would hold me to my promise of an unknown service in the future. I fully intend to serve him as we agreed, but in my heart I know that I will never commit an act that aids the Defiler or the forces of darkness. I will die first.  I can only hope that the elf mage has the same foes as I. In that way, my service to him would be a joy. He suggests that he has knowledge of the Winter Coalition and that I should seek him out for information.

Even more, Lord Syraen suggested that the mace I now hold (Named Haurach, meaning  “fate” or “Defilers Dread”) is wrapped up in the destiny of the land. Somehow, the Dragons and the greater forces of the world have interest and history with this weapon. In ways I cannot understand, the maul is intelligent and has some ideas of how to fight the forces of darkness. Some spirit inhabits it, Storrgrim, it is named. It was meant for great beings to use in the secret conflict raging for the fate of the world. How did that bugbear in Droam get his hands on it? Did he ever attune to it? Was he the one chosen to wield it?  He did not seem the pinion of destiny as he died.

Re-reading the letter, this maul is tied to the Winter Coalition and we have often thought that somehow our party (whoever its members?) had a connection to the re-emergence of the Winter Coalition. As Lord Syraen suggests, the paths of prophecy are involved. Somehow, if I am able to wield this weapon, something will change (in me?  in the world around me?) that will aid in the reformation of the Winter Coalition. How would that happen? How would I know what to do? Would I become so different that I am alone and must leave the party? Would we all go the way of Rendar, called to higher purpose? Is this the gateway I have been seeking that will lead me to aid Lucerix in the rescue of Seren?  How could a white dragon bone that draws power from cold help the Bringers of Fire?

I laid awake in the comfortable bed at the Royal Bear. Hours passed and the moons moved overhead as I tried to understand and as I considered the fateful day ahead of me. In the end, the down pillows, soft blankets, and thick mattress won out over my disquiet. I slept.

Morning came and we met for breakfast in the common room. As Lady Amaryllis had predicted, heavy snow was falling in the usually warm city of Wroat, more evidence that the fates are involved in our lives. Kard was still busy with his healing hand and temple duties, so he would not accompany me. I hoped I wouldn't fall and need his curing. Dar had sought the wooded parks to consider her own fate. I would have liked her to come with me, but she is new to us and our fates may not be bound.

Cypher was caught up in his refashioning of Rungo in the workshops of House Cannith. I was upset by this. All along I have relied on Cypher to help me understand what was happening to us. He alone of our group was with me when this all began in the gnome city in Zilargo. Even my dwarven friend Doongul, the first companion I had made when I arrived on the continent (the Land of Demons), was no longer with me. The dark elf Xoma had left us mysteriously. The shifter Cyzicus returned to his homeland. And Rendar's path was no longer ours. Cypher, at least, was still with me, and he remembered who our real enemies were. What if this mace required knowledge or understanding of prophecies? What if I could not answer the call? Without Cypher I feel afraid of my own lack of knowledge. I trust that somehow, this is all as it was meant to be.

Clarion would come with me, however, as will the flighty and fey Aleae, and I am glad of their help. I feel that they have an interest in all of this and that they have a great part to play.

Clarion is a warrior, forged for music and war in the land of Aundair, but he also serves the goddess Dol Arrah. I know little of this goddess but they say she is sometimes depicted as a red dragon: So I know his purpose must be true. He heals with music and a cold metal touch and his shield is strong!

And Aleae, whose full name no one can pronounce but Aleae (except maybe Cypher), comes from another world altogether, a world of faerie stories like those the elders used to tell us. But those faeries are real now and  one of them is my companion and she sprouts wings and throws spells as mighty as any Seren shaman's. Enemies and owlbears beware!

A glimpse of Thelanis, the Faerie Court
(aka the Feywild)

The bowman, Simel, said he would also join me. His reasons are his own, but we have reason to believe that some of our enemies are his as well. Perhaps that will become clearer with time. More importantly, Simel has shown himself to be a resourceful ally in a fight. Though, he brought only a crooked shepherd's staff—where were his weapons? I trust the prophecies will show me the way.

We rode the horses out of town with Clarion running along tirelessly. Warforged continued to amaze me. I often wonder what the dragonspeakers back home would say of them. They are artificial beings, that is clear. Some of the elders would probably dismiss them as mere animated toys, but not all of them. Perhaps is has been the Dragons' design all along that the warforged be created in this modern time now that they are are needed? Lucerix would know.

Some ways out from the city, amidst the snow fall, Clarion and Aleae started to magic-message us that we were being followed. Far at the edges of perception, they heard something. Maybe wings. Yes, some of our enemies have been winged. But then so have some of our friends. I wondered briefly if the pseudodragon Matheu would reappear, as dragons do at times. In time, a building sense of purpose started to flow through me. I could feel the mace calling me. I began to search for a place to do that which I was summoned to do. A clearing at the forest's edge presented itself, an old campsite strewn with some boulders and lone trees. This would be the place.

We hobbled the horses a few dozen feet away and I asked the others to take cover, for I was about to start the ritual and I knew not what will come.  Clarion preferred to present himself to whatever the mace brought. I am thankful for the support of my friends and their willingness to stand by me in the face of unknown powers.

With that in mind, I cast the mace to the ground and say the name of the entity that inhabits it: “STORRGRIM!”

Immediately, icy clouds billowed from the mace, frozen air blustered about us and I could see neither my allies nor the mace. I step forward into the cold fog (was I supposed to? would this ruin it?), and I could not see the mace, but I did see some giant boots. As the fog began to clear I can see a twenty-foot frost giant. He was haggard, with a long white beard and a huge horned helm. He bore a mighty AXE.  He looked like a giant icy Seren. Unless I am mistaken, we were to fight.

He looked about with cold blue eyes and was not impressed. In a deep rumbling voice he asked me a question, but not in any language I knew. He repeated it with disgust, now speaking an a harshly accented Draconic. "Who are you?"

I answered, but he said, “You cannot be worthy. You are pitiful and small and have not the bearing of a conqueror.”

I shout, “I am MAGNUS of Seren Isle!  I have yet to be killed! Many have come before me and all have fallen beneath me!”

He returned with “Never has a wretched human successfully wielded Harauch.” He raised his axe, and twice offered me the chance to escape with my life by walking away. Doing that would be failure. Instead I charged him, running between his legs and smashing at him with my old jungle mace. He scoffed and swung his axe. I heard the snarl of a great white wolf as well. Battle was joined! Purpose! Swinging weapons! The promise of bloodshed! Whatever the outcome, this would be a wonderful memory for me. Even if I am slain.

Vaguely I became aware that my friends had become involved in some other battle as Storrgrim and I squared off. I heard a roar and then a screech to my left as a huge blue wyvern dropped out of the snowy sky to the ground. I saw its female rider (the witch from the tavern fight outside the Dragonwood?) climbing out of the saddle get hit with a couple of Simel's arrows.

I continued to smash away at the giant’s legs. His gray-blue flesh was harder than a human's, but marks begin to appear and fluids begin to flow from the wounds. He landed a few glancing blows (thank the dragon for the spells Aleae and Clarion cast to protect me) but I stood up to him.

Around me, huge ice spells turn the area into a (more) frozen waste. Blasts of icy air, Hail stones, lightening, thunder, and the crackle of wand magic surround this battle. Clarion pushed through the fight to come to my side. A huge winter wolf also joined and breathed an icy blast upon us. More than once, Clarion’s shield saved me from a chop of Storrgim's massive axe, and Clarion got badly mauled. The giant demanded to know what Clarion was, and Clarion called out that we would stand triumphant over the giant’s corps before day's end, demoralizing Storgrimm with magic.

I managed a particularly good mash into a giant leg. Instead of screams of pain, I look up to see an amused smile amidst his snowy why beard. Apparently Storrgrim liked this fight better than he thought he would. Although I know he meant to hew my body apart, I felt something burn inside me—like the kinship two matched foes feel sometimes—and I think he may have appreciated me. I write this only in looking back, because at the time, my mind was full of rage and fiery-red purpose.

I yelled out: “I will cut you down to size and mash your head in the end!” More guffaws from the
giant.

Around us, I saw an air elemental arrive as a vortex of screaming wind—that is the definitely the lady from the tavern brawl.

I saw the wyverrn hop up and move towards Simel with its lashing, venomous tail, and more blasts of magic passed between two sorceresses. Wounded by falling ice, the enemy witch soon retreated into the tree line, but then I saw Aleae stalk after her and point her Wand of Wonder. A stream of shiny-bright rocks blasted out of the wand and knocked the wyvern-riding witch to the ground. That is good.

Storgrimm and I are not seriously wounded yet.  I am sure that will change soon.

#74 - Old Enemies and New Objectives

Excerpt from the Cypher's Codex: The Scrawlings of a Warforged Scholar

After meticulously planning out the rest of our stay in Wroat, we headed to the Citadel to report in with Three.  Our mission to the Dragonwood was a success and he needed to be made aware of our findings.  Three was not in attendance at court, however.  Captain Ellanar, commander of the King's Swords (an elite warrior force trained to operate far and wide on behalf of the crown), was charged with debriefing us.  I reported on all that transpired in the Dragonwood, as well as our interlude at the ir’Valish mansion.  Captain Ellanar brusquely handed us a reward of 1,000 galifars. She did not seem pleased for us to be rewarded in this way—or by this amount—so I promptly refused payment.  I was quickly overruled by my companions. 

Absent: Three, the King's Protector

There was some tension at the Citadel and Three’s absence was making my companions nervous.  I did not tell the Captain about the dragon’s gift to us, the Deck of Many Things.  That information could wait until Three returned.  

Before I had a chance to talk about our battle against the forger Sylvander, Magnus asked the King’s Sword about the recent theft at the Wroat Exchequer.  She insisted that it was being handled capably, but Magnus persisted and was told that in addition to the Agents of the Citadel, House Medani had been hired to find the culprit.  She mentioned the Blue Wraith by name, confirming the rumors from recent broadsheets, and Magnus and I offered our services to the crown.  Somewhat dismissively, Captain Ellanar said that if we were able to find the Blue Wraith, Breland would be grateful. I vowed to not disappoint our glorious nation, although the captain did not seem to care much for my words.

Glyphstone Keep was mentioned. It will be the next stop on our journey. Kard, as well, seemed to have his own reasons for going to that ancient Dhakaani fortress, and he had already asked us to assist him. Captain Ellanar was very tight with any information about the keep.  We asked if Three was there and she still refused to share her intelligence.  Finally, Magnus declared that we were heading there next, and I quickly used some military diplomacy to ask permission for our trespassing on the king’s lands.  Captain Ellanar said we would not be stopped, but subtly reminded us that Glyphstone Keep would be considered property of Breland as it rested on Brelish soil.

I also inquired about my final messenger.  It had not reached Three, and since he was not within the vicinity when I released the messenger, it passed instead to another warforged under Brelish authority, a guard at the Citadel.  I asked for the messenger to be returned but I was refused.  They said that since the messenger was meant for Three, it would be kept safe until such time as the King's Protector could receive it.  I requested it be returned to me at the next possible opportunity. The Citadel noted my request in triplicate.

Next, we returned to the House Phiarlan Carnival, which was still setting up outside the city proper.  We found our captive, the Sivis excoriate forger Sylvander, bound and shivering in a small tent.  Lady Amaryllis, the Mistress of the Carnival, was looming over him and he was much more talkative than even before.  Apparently while we were in the city, Amaryllis had further interrogated the forger.  Between her interrogations and our further questioning, we were able to learn of a new character, a shifter named Tyken Roslof.  

Roslof was a member of the Dark Lanterns, Breland's covert intelligence agency, but he was a defector who betrayed his king. Using the forged documents made by Sylvander, Roslof stole the gold from the Exchequer and was promptly murdered by his cohorts after giving the stolen gold to the Blue Wraith.  This was the body that Lord Szen d’Jorasco performed an autopsy on, which led to his investigations at the ir'Valish estate.

Sylvander didn’t know the significance of it, but he knew that Glyphstone Keep was involved in this crime somehow. Alain ir’Valesh, the true identity of the Blue Wraith, had recently received an invitation from an unknown party—someone, Sylvander theorized, from Droaam—to go to Glyphstone Keep and meet with others "who would see King Boranel extracted from his throne." Some of the others invited were agents of the Order of the Emerald Claw as well as "a dark druid of the Gloaming."

Symbol of the Order
of the
Emerald Claw

I had heard of the Gloaming, a place of deep darkness in the woods of the Eldeen Reaches.  It is a manifest zone to Mabar, the Plane of Endless Night and Dar told us that it is also the home of the Children of Winter, a particularly militant sect of druids with a markedly nihilistic outlook on the world. Dar asked about the Order of the Emerald Claw and we explained that they are Karnnathi terrorists, formerly a knightly orded that Karrnath's own king disbanded and outlawed. They are believed to be associated with the cult Blood of Vol. From our adventures, Magnus and I know that they are also willing to ally with other outlaw-minded groups. We crossed bladeswith the Emerald Claw back in the ruins of Paluur Draal, which implies they may be allied with Avashad as well. I remember that day well, as it might have been when I first decided that I wanted to craft an iron defender of my own (we were attacked by some).

Sylvander demanded his freedom, for he wanted nothing more to do with his former associates—only his safety. In exchange, he promised to draw a map of a secret entrance to Glyphstone Keep, which he claims to have seen in Alain ir'Valish's company. The party agreed to his demands despite his traitorous acts against the Crown.

Aleae also spoke briefly with Lady Amaryllis, for the two high elves had made some arrangement at our last meeting concerning the mutual fate of their race. Aleae comes from the feyspire in the Eldeen Reaches, and Amaryllis comes from the feyspire in Karrnath. It seemed there would be a meeting of their kind in two weeks' time with representatives from two other feyspires. 

Speaking of the feyspire in Karrnath, Lady Amaryllis had Magnus's dragonbone maul to return to him. She had sent it to her cousin, the eladrin ruler of Taer Syraen (this means "Winter Citadel" in elven), to analyze it. I had never seen Magnus read words as enthusiastically as the letter that Lord Syraen had sent back with the maul.

He read it to us.

Magnus of Seren,

My fair cousin, the Lady Amaryllis, explained to me that you had agreed to my terms: Namely, that if I examined the curious weapon placed temporarily in my care, you would perform a service on my behalf without question. I shall call on you again to meet your side of the bargain.

Here is what I have discovered. You have come into possession of a most fascinating artifact. Its name is Haurach, which means “fate” in Draconic, but it is also called the Defiler’s Bane.  The  weapon was crafted from the bones of the firstborn of the venerable  white dragon Vensharatryx, and it was wrought in vengeance with the aid of a frost giant jarl whom she held in confidence. During the Age of Demons, the white dragon was slain by the servants of Katashka, the Gatekeeper Rajah who carried the grandiose epithet of “the Lord of Undeath.”

Vensharatryx intended  the maul to be wielded by a warrior of her newly-founded Winter Coalition. The Draconic runes further suggest that its bearer, at least for a time, would become the leader of that order and would rally others to the cause.

The maul’s power is accessible to you, provided you have the strength and courage to reveal it. My cousin tells me that you and your friends have already traversed the paths of prophecy and that it is likely not by chance that you came to possess this weapon. If that is so, and you are aligned in purpose with Vensharatryx—who ever opposed the terrible rakshasa rajah—then I encourage you to claim this weapon as your own.

Yet doing so will be dangerous. You must carry it out into the elements under an open sky, ideally during snowfall. Cast the maul to the earth and speak the name of the spirit bound to it: Storrgrim. You will need to submit to whatever trial he presents. I strongly suggest you do this somewhere remote and where innocent casualties will be few. If you succeed, take caution: the Defiler’s Bane is intelligent, driven by the spirit inhabiting it, who is both irascible and violent. Yet his cause is the same as that of Vensharatryx, for his own tribe was slaughtered by the Gatekeeper’s servants. 

As a final note, you should know that the Winter Coalition interests me considerably. I possess some lore on the subject in my personal library. You and your friends are welcome to visit me and discuss the subject. Otherwise, I will call on you when I have need.

                     Lord Syraen 

When he finished, Lady Amaryllis looked out the window of her tent and remarked that it would snow tomorrow.