#115 - Ingression and Reflection

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As we rested, I meditated on recent events.

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

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

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

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

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

Now, we are finally allowed a quiet moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

#114 - The Traitor

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

We collectively rounded on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#113 - The Death of Simel

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn't empty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Memories of Xen'drik

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

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

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

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

#111 - Weapons, Shields, and Scrying Eyes

From the Analects of Simel, veteran of Karrnath 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#110 - Battle for the Scepter of Glyphstone Keep

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How powerful was a vampire thousands of years old?

#109 - Lair of the Water Naga

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad nagas are not nice.

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

To our task at hand:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We must cleanse this place!